The Tenants of Malory, Volume 3

by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

  CHAPTER XX.

  A BREAK-DOWN.

  ABOUT an hour after, a message came down from Malory for the doctor.

  "How is his lordship?" asked the doctor, eagerly.

  "No, it isn't _him_, sure; it is the old _lady_ is taken very bad."

  "Lady Wimbledon?"

  "No, sure. Her ladyship's not there. Old Mrs. Mervyn."

  "Oh!" said the doctor, tranquillized. "Old Rebecca Mervyn, is it? Andwhat may be the matter with the poor old lady?"

  "Fainting like; one fainting into another, sure; and her breath almostgone. She's very bad--as pale as a sheet."

  "Is she talking at all?"

  "No, not a word. Sittin' back in her chair, sure."

  "Does she know you, or mind what you say to her?"

  "Well, _no_. She's a-holdin' that old white-headed man's hand that'sbeen so long bad there, and a-lookin' at him; but I don't think shehears nor sees nothin' myself."

  "Apoplexy, or the heart, more likely," ruminated the doctor. "Will youcall one of those pony things for me?"

  And while the pony-carriage was coming to the door, he got a fewphials together and his coat on, being in a hurry; for he was to playa rubber of billiards at the club for five shillings at seven o'clock.

  In an hour's time after the interview with Arthur Verney, Lord Verneyhad wonderfully collected his wits. His effects in that department, itis true, were not very much, and perhaps the more easily broughttogether. He wrote two short letters--marvellously short for him--andsent down to the Verney Arms to request the attendance of Mr. Larkin.

  Lord Verney was calm; he was even gentle; spoke, in his dry way,little, and in a low tone. He had the window-shutter opened quite, andthe curtains drawn back, and seemed to have forgotten his invalidedstate, and everything but the revolution which in a moment hadovertaken and engulfed him--to which great anguish with a dryresignation he submitted.

  Over the chimney was a little oval portrait of his father, the lateLord Verney, taken when they wore the hair long, falling back upontheir shoulders. A pretty portrait, refined, handsome, insolent. Howdulled it was by time and neglect--how criss-crossed over with littlecracks; the evening sun admitted now set it all aglow.

  "A very good portrait. How has it been overlooked so long? It must bepreserved; it shall go to Verney House. To Verney House? I forgot."

  Mr. Jos. Larkin, in obedience to this sudden summons, was speedilywith Lord Verney. With this call a misgiving came. The attorney smiledblandly, and talked in his meekest and happiest tones; but people whoknew his face would have remarked that sinister contraction of the eyeto which in moments of danger or treachery he was subject, and which,in spite of his soft tones and child-like smile, betrayed the fear orthe fraud of that vigilant and dangerous Christian.

  When he entered the room, and saw Lord Verney's face pale and stern,he had no longer a doubt.

  Lord Verney requested Mr. Larkin to sit down, and prepare forsomething that would surprise him.

  He then proceeded to tell Mr. Larkin that the supposed Mr. Dingwellwas, in fact, his brother, the Hon. Arthur Verney, and that,therefore, he was not Lord Verney, but only as before, the Hon. KiffynFulke Verney.

  Mr. Larkin saw that there was an up-hill game and a heavy task beforehim. It was certain now, and awful. This conceited and foolish oldnobleman, and that devil incarnate, his brother, were to be managed,and those Jew people, who might grow impracticable; and doors were tobe muffled, and voices lowered, and a stupendous secret kept. Still hedid not despair--if people would only be true to themselves.

  When Lord Verney came to that part of his brief narrative where,taking some credit dismally to himself for his penetration, he statedthat "notwithstanding that the room was dark and his voice disguised,I recognized him; and you may conceive, Mr. Larkin, that when I madethe discovery I was a good deal disturbed about it."

  Mr. Larkin threw up his eyes and hands--

  "_What_ a world it is, my dear Lord Verney! for so I persist instyling you still, for this will prove virtually no interruption."

  At the close of his sentence the attorney lowered his voice earnestly.

  "I don't follow you, sir, about it," replied Lord Verney,disconsolately; "for a man who has had an illness, he lookswonderfully well, and in good spirits and things, and as likely tolive as I am, about it."

  "My remarks, my lord, were directed rather to what I may term theanimus--the design--of this, shall I call it, _demonstration_, mylord, on the part of your lordship's brother."

  "Yes, of course, the animus, about it. But it strikes me he's aslikely to outlive me as not."

  "My lord, may I venture, in confidence and with great respect, tosubmit, that your lordship was hardly judicious in affording him apersonal interview?"

  "Why, I should hope my personal direction of that conversation,and--and things, has been such as I should wish," said the peer, veryloftily.

  "My lord, I have failed to make myself clear. I never questioned theconsummate ability with which, no doubt, your lordship's part in thatconversation was sustained. What I meant to convey is, thatconsidering the immense distance socially between you, the habitualand undeviating eminence of your lordship's position, and themelancholy circle in which it has been your brother's lot to move,your meeting him face to face for the purpose of a personal discussionof your relations, may lead him to the absurd conclusion that yourlordship is, in fact, afraid of him."

  "That, sir, would be a very impertinent conclusion."

  "Quite so, my lord, and render him proportionably impracticable. Now,I'll undertake to bring him to reason." The attorney was speaking verylow and sternly, with contracted eyes and a darkened face. "He hasbeen married to the lady who lives in the house adjoining, under thename of Mrs. Mervyn, and to my certain knowledge inquiries have beenset in motion to ascertain whether there has not been issue of thatmarriage."

  "You may set your mind perfectly at rest with regard to that marriage,Mr. Larkin; the whole thing was thoroughly sifted--and things--myfather undertook it, the late Lord Verney, about it; and so it wenton, and was quite examined, and it turned out the poor woman had beenmiserably deceived by a mock ceremony, and this mock thing was thewhole _thing_, and there's nothing more; the evidence was verydeplorable, and--and quite satisfactory."

  "Oh! that's a great weight off my mind," said Larkin, trying to smile,and looking very much disappointed, "a great weight, my lord."

  "I knew it would--yes," acquiesced Lord Verney.

  "And simplifies our dealings with the other side; for if there hadbeen a good marriage, and concealed issue male of that marriage, theywould have used that circumstance to _extort money_."

  "Well, I don't see how they could, though; for if there had been achild, about it--he'd have been heir apparent, don't you see? to thetitle."

  "Oh!--a--yes--_certainly_, that's very true, my lord; but then there's_none_, so _that's_ at rest."

  "I've just heard," interposed Lord Verney, "I may observe, that thepoor old lady, Mrs. Mervyn, is suddenly and dangerously ill."

  "Oh! _is_ she?" said Mr. Larkin very uneasily, for she was, if not hisqueen, at least a very valuable pawn upon his chess-board.

  "Yes; the doctor thinks she's actually dying, poor old soul!"

  "What a world! What is life? What is man?" murmured the attorney witha devout feeling of the profoundest vexation. "It was for this mostmelancholy character," he continued; "you'll pardon me, my lord, forso designating a relative of your lordship's--the Honourable ArthurVerney, who has so _fraudulently_, I will say, presented himself againas a living claimant. Your lordship is aware of course--I shall begoing up to town possibly by the mail train to-night--that the law, ifit were permitted to act, would remove that obstacle under the oldsentence of the Court."

  "Good God! sir, you can't possibly mean that I should have my brothercaught and executed?" exclaimed Lord Verney, turning quite white.

  "Quite the reverse, my lord. I'm--I'm unspeakably shocked that I shouldhave so misconveyed myse
lf," said Larkin, his tall bald head tinged toits top with an ingenuous blush. "Oh no, my lord, I understand theVerney feeling too well, thank God, to suppose anything, I will say,so _entirely_ objectionable. I said, my lord, if it were_permitted_, that is, allowed by simple non-_interference_--your lordship sees--and it is precisely _because_ non-interferencemust bring about that catastrophe--for I must not conceal from yourlordship the fact that there is a great deal of unpleasant talk in thetown of Cardyllian already--that I purpose running up to town to-night.There is a Jew firm, your lordship is aware, who have a very heavyjudgment against him, and the persons of that persuasion are sointerlaced, as I may say, in matters of business, that I shouldapprehend a communication to them from Goldshed and Levi, who,by-the-by, to my certain knowledge--_what_ a world it is!--have aperson here actually watching Mr. Dingwell, or in other words, theunhappy but Honourable Arthur Verney, in _their_ interest."(This was in effect true, but the name of this person, which he did notcare to disclose, was Josiah Larkin.) "If I were on the spot, I thinkI know a way effectually to stop all action of that sort."

  "You think they'd arrest him, about it?" said Lord Verney.

  "Certainly, my lord."

  "It is very much to be deprecated," said Lord Verney.

  "And, my lord, if you will agree to place the matter quite in myhands, and peremptorily to decline on all future occasions, concedinga personal interview, I'll stake my professional character, I effect asatisfactory compromise."

  "I--I don't know--I don't _see_ a compromise--there's nothing that Isee, to _settle_," said Lord Verney.

  "_Every_ thing, my lord. Pardon me--your lordship mentioned that, inpoint of fact, you are no longer Lord Verney; that beingso--technically, of course--measures must be taken--in short, a--aquiet _arrangement_ with your lordship's brother, to prevent anydisturbance, and I undertake to effect it, my lord; the nature ofwhich will be to prevent the return of the title to abeyance, and ofthe estates to the management of the trustees, whose claim for mesne_rates_ and the liquidation of the mortgage, I need not tell yourlordship, would be ruinous to you."

  "Why, sir--Mr. Larkin--I can hardly believe, sir--you can't mean, orthink it possible, sir, that I should lend myself to a deception,and--and sit in the House of Peers by a _fraud_, sir! I'd much rather_die_ in the debtor's prison, about it; and I consider myselfdishonoured by having involuntarily heard such an--an idea."

  Poor, pompous, foolish Lord Verney stood up, so dignified and stern inthe light of his honest horror, that Mr. Larkin, who despised himutterly, quailed before a phenomenon he could not understand.

  Nothing confounded our friend Larkin, as a religious man, so much asdiscovering, after he had a little unmasked, that his client would notfollow, and left him, as once or twice had happened, alone with hisdead villanous suggestion, to account for it how he could.

  "Oh dear!--_surely_, my lord, your lordship did not _imagine_," saidMr. Larkin, doing his best, "I was--I, in fact--I _supposed_ a _case_.I only went the length of saying that I think--and with _sorrow_ Ithink it--that your lordship's brother has in view an _adjustment_ ofhis claim, and meant to _extract_, I fear, a sum of _money_ when hedisclosed himself, and conferred with your lordship. I meant, merely,of course, that as he thought this I would _let_ him think it, andallow him to disclose his plans, with a view, of course, to deal withthat information--first, of _course_, with a view to your lordship's_honour_, and next your lordship's safety; but if your lordship didnot see your way _clearly_ to it"----

  "No, I don't see--I think it most objectionable--about it. I know allthat concerns me; and I have written to two official persons--one, Imay say, the Minister himself--apprizing them of the actual positionof the title, and asking some information as to how I should proceedin order to divest myself of it and the estates."

  "Just what I should have expected from your lordship's exquisite senseof honour," said Mr. Larkin, with a deferential bow, and a countenanceblack as thunder.

  That gigantic machine of torture which he had been building anddove-tailing, with patient villany, at Lord Verney's word fell with acrash, like an enchanted castle at its appointed spell. Well was itfor Lord Verney that the instinct of honour was strong in him, andthat he would not suffer his vulgar tempter to beguile him into oneindefensible concealment. Had he fallen, that tempter would have beenhis tyrant. He would have held everything in trust for Mr. Jos.Larkin. The effigy of Lord Verney would, indeed, have stood, on stateoccasions, robed and coronetted, with his order, driven down to theHouse, and sat there among hereditary senators; all around him, wouldhave been brilliant and luxurious, and the tall bald head of theChristian attorney would have bowed down before the out-going and thein-coming of the phantom. But the real peer would have sat cold anddark enough, in Jos. Larkin's dungeon--his robe on the wall, a shirtof Nessus--his coronet on a nail, a Neapolitan "cap of silence"--quitetame under the rat-like eye of a terror from which he never couldescape.

  There was a silence here for some time. Lord Verney leaned back withclosed eyes, exhausted. Mr. Larkin looked down on the carpet smilingfaintly, and with the tip of one finger scratching his bald headgently. The attorney spoke--"Might I suggest, for the safety of yourlordship's unhappy brother, that the matter should be kept strictlyquiet--just for a day or two, until I shall have made arrangements forhis--may I term it--escape."

  "Certainly," said Lord Verney, looking away a little. "Yes--_that_must, of course, be arranged; and--and this marriage--I shall leavethat decision entirely in the hands of the young lady." Lord Verneywas a little agitated. "And I think, Mr. Larkin, I have saideverything at present. Good evening."

  As Mr. Larkin traversed the hall of Malory, scratching the top of hisbald head with one finger, in profound and black rumination, I amafraid his thoughts and feelings amounted to a great deal of cursingand swearing.

  "Sweet evening," he observed suddenly to the surprised servant whoopened the door for him. He was now standing at the threshold, withhis hands expanded as if he expected rain, and smiling villianouslyupward toward the stars.

  "Sweet evening," he repeated, and then biting his lip and looking downfor a while on the gravel, he descended and walked round the corner tothe Steward's House.