From the high glass doorway, communicating with the drawingrooms, at the far end, among towering ranks of rare and gorgeous flowers, over the encaustic tiles, and through this atmosphere of perfume, did Captain Stanley Lake, in his shooting coat, glide, smiling, toward his beautiful young wife.
She heard the door close, and looking half over her shoulder, in a low tone indicating surprise, she merely said:
‘Oh!’ receiving him with a proud sad look.
‘Yes, Dorkie, I’m here at last. I’ve been for some weeks so insufferably busy,’ and he laid his white hand lightly over his eyes, as if they and the brain within were alike weary.
‘How charming this place is — the temple of Flora, and you the divinity!’
And he kissed her cheek.
‘I’m now emancipated for, I hope, a week or two. I’ve been so stupid and inattentive. I’m sure, Dorkie, you must think me a brute. I’ve been shut up so in the library, and keeping such tiresome company — you’ve no idea; but I think you’ll say it was time well spent, at least I’m sure you’ll approve the result; and now that I have collected the facts, and can show you, darling, exactly what the chances are, you must consent to hear the long story, and when you have heard, give me your advice.’
Dorcas smiled, and only plucked a little flowery tendril from a plant that hung in a natural festoon above her.
‘I assure you, darling, I am serious; you must not look so incredulous; and it is the more provoking, because I love you so. I think I have a right to your advice, Dorkie.’
‘Why don’t you ask Rachel, she’s cleverer than I, and you are more in the habit of consulting her?’
‘Now, Dorkie is going to talk her wicked nonsense over again, as if I had never answered it. What about Radie? I do assure you, so far from taking her advice, and thinking her an oracle, as you suppose, I believe her in some respects very little removed from a fool.’
‘I think her very clever, on the contrary,’ said Dorcas, enigmatically.
‘Well, she is clever in some respects; she is gay, at least she used to be, before she fell into that transcendental parson’s hands — I mean poor dear William Wylder; and she can be amusing, and talks very well, but she has no sense — she is utterly Quixotic — she is no more capable of advising than a child.’
‘I should not have fancied that, although you say so, Stanley.’ she answered carelessly, adding a geranium to her bouquet.
‘You are thinking, I know, because you have seen us once or twice talking together — — ‘
Stanley paused, not knowing exactly how to construct the remainder of his sentence.
Dorcas added another blossom.
‘I think that blue improves it wonderfully. Don’t you?’
‘The blue? Oh yes, certainly.’
‘And now that little star of yellow will make it perfect,’ said Dorcas.
‘Yes — yellow — quite perfect,’ said Stanley. ‘But when you saw Rachel and me talking together, or rather Rachel talking to me, I do assure you, Dorcas, upon my sacred honour, one half of what she said I do not to this moment comprehend, and the whole was based on the most preposterous blunder; and I will tell you in a little time everything about it. I would this moment — I’d be delighted — only just until I have got a letter which I expect — a letter, I assure you, nothing more — and until I have got it, it would be simply to waste your time and patience to weary you with any such — any such.’
‘Secret,’ said Dorcas.
‘Secret, then, if you will have it so,’ retorted Stanley, suddenly, with one of those glares that lasted for just one fell moment; but he instantly recovered himself. ‘Secret — yes — but no secret in the evil sense — a secret only awaiting the evidence which I daily expect, and then to be stated fully and frankly to you, my only darling, and as completely blown to the winds.’
Dorcas looked in his strange face with her proud, sad gaze, like one guessing at a funereal allegory.
He kissed her cheek again, placing one arm round her slender waist, and with his other hand taking hers.
‘Yes, Dorcas, my beloved, my only darling, you will yet know all it has cost me to retain from you even this folly; and when you have heard all — which upon my soul and honour, you shall the moment I am enabled to prove all — you will thank me for having braved your momentary displeasure, to spare you a great deal of useless and miserable suspense. I trust you, Dorcas, in everything implicitly. Why won’t you credit what I say?’
‘I don’t urge you — I never have — to reveal that which you describe so strangely as a concealment, yet no secret; as an absurdity, and yet fraught with miserable suspense.’
‘Ah, Dorcas, why will you misconstrue me? Why will you not believe me? I long to tell you this, which, after all, is an utter absurdity, a thousand times more than you can desire to hear it; but my doing so now, unfortified by the evidence I shall have in a very few days, would be attended with a danger which you will then understand. Won’t you trust me?’
‘And now for my advice,’ said Dorcas, smiling down in her mysterious way upon a crimson exotic near her feet.
‘Yes, darling, thank you. In sober earnest, your advice,’ answered Lake; ‘and you must advise me. Several of our neighbours — the Hillyards, the Ledwiches, the Wyndermeres, and ever so many more — have spoken to me very strongly about contesting the county, on the old Whig principles, at the election which is now imminent. There is not a man with a chance of acceptance to come forward, if I refuse. Now, you know what even moderate success in the House, when family and property go together, may accomplish. There are the Dodminsters. Do you think they would ever have got their title by any other means? There are the Forresters — — ‘
‘I know it all, Stanley; and at once I say, go on. I thought you must have formed some political project, Mr. Wealdon has been with you so often; but you tell me nothing, Stanley.’
‘Not, darling, till I know it myself. This plan, for instance, until you spoke this moment, was but a question, and one which I could not submit until I had seen Wealdon, and heard how matters stood, and what chances of success I should really have. So, darling, you have it all; and I am so glad you advise me to go on. It is five-and-thirty years since anyone connected with Brandon came forward. But it will cost a great deal of money, Dorkie.’
‘Yes, I know. I’ve always heard it cost my uncle and Sir William Camden fifteen thousand pounds.’
‘Yes, it will be expensive, Wealdon thinks — very, this time. The other side will spend a great deal of money. It often struck me as a great mistake, that, where there is a good income, and a position to be maintained, there is not a little put by every year to meet cases like this — what they call a reserve fund in trading companies.’
‘I do not think there is much money. You know, Stanley.’
‘Whatever there is, is under settlement, and we cannot apply it, Dorkie.
The only thing to be done, it strikes me, is to sell a part of Five
Oaks.’
‘I’ll not sell any property, Stanley.’
‘And what do you propose, then?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t understand these things. But there are ways of getting money by mortgages and loans, and paying them off, without losing the property.’
‘I’ve the greatest possible objection to raising money in that way. It is, in fact, the first step towards ruin; and nobody has ever done it who has not regretted that he did not sell instead.’
‘I won’t sell Five Oaks, Stanley,’ said the young lady, seriously.
‘I only said a part,’ replied Stanley.
‘I won’t sell at all.’
‘Oh? And I won’t mortgage,’ said Stanley. ‘Then the thing can’t go on?’
‘I can’t help it.’
‘But I’m resolved it shall,’ answered Stanley.
‘I tell you, Stanley, plainly, I will not sell. The Brandon estate shall not be diminished in my time.’
‘Why, you perverse id
iot, don’t you perceive you impair the estate as much by mortgaging as by selling, with ten times the ultimate danger. I tell you I won’t mortgage, and you shall sell.’
‘This, Sir, is the first time I have been spoken to in such terms.’
‘And why do you contradict and thwart me upon business of which I know something and you nothing? What object on earth can I have in impairing the estate? I’ve as deep an interest in it as you. It is perfectly plain we should sell; and I am determined we shall. Come now, Dorcas — I’m sorry — I’m such a brute, you know, when I’m vexed. You mustn’t be angry; and if you’ll be a good girl, and trust me in matters of business — — ‘
‘Stanley, I tell you plainly once more, I never will consent to sell one acre of the Brandon estates.’
‘Then we’ll see what I can do without you, Dorkie,’ he said in a pleasant, musing way.
He was now looking down, with his sly, malign smile; and Dorcas could almost fancy two yellow lights reflected upon the floor.
‘I shall protect the property of my family, Sir, from your folly or your machinations; and I shall write to Chelford, as my trustee, to come here to advise me.’
‘And I snap my fingers at you both, and meet you with defiance;’ and
Stanley’s singular eyes glared upon her for a few seconds.
Dorcas turned in her grand way, and walked slowly toward the door.
‘Stay a moment, I’m going,’ said Stanley, overtaking and confronting her near the door. ‘I’ve only one word. I don’t think you quite know me. It will be an evil day for you, Dorkie, when you quarrel with me.’
He looked steadily on her, smiling for a second or two more, and then glided from the conservatory.
It was the first time Dorcas had seen Stanley Lake’s features in that translated state which indicated the action of his evil nature, and the apparition haunted her for many a day and night.
CHAPTER LVII.
CONCERNING A NEW DANGER WHICH THREATENED CAPTAIN STANLEY LAKE.
The ambitious captain walked out, sniffing, white, and incensed. There was an air of immovable resolution in the few words which Dorcas had spoken which rather took him by surprise. The captain was a terrorist. He acted instinctively on the theory that any good that was to be got from human beings was to be extracted from their fears. He had so operated on Mark Wylder; and so sought to coerce his sister Rachel. He had hopes, too, of ultimately catching the good attorney napping, and leading him too, bound and docile, into his ergastulum, although he was himself just now in jeopardy from that quarter. James Dutton, too. Sooner or later he would get Master Jim into a fix, and hold him also spellbound in the same sort of nightmare.
It was not from malice. The worthy attorney had much more of that leaven than he. Stanley Lake did not care to smash any man, except such as stood in his way. He had a mercantile genius, and never exercised his craft, violence and ferocity, on men or objects, when no advantage was obtainable by so doing. When, however, fortune so placed them that one or other must go to the wall, Captain Stanley Lake was awfully unscrupulous. But, having disabled, and struck him down, and won the stakes, he would have given what remained of him his cold, white hand to shake, or sipped claret with him at his own table, and told him stories, and entertained him with sly, sarcastic sallies, and thought how he could make use of him in an amicable way.
But Stanley Lake’s cold, commercial genius, his craft and egotism, were frustrated occasionally by his temper, which, I am afraid, with all its external varnish, was of the sort which is styled diabolical. People said also, what is true of most terrorists, that he was himself quite capable of being frightened; and also, that he lied with too fertile an audacity: and, like a man with too many bills afloat, forgot his endorsements occasionally, and did not recognise his own acceptances when presented after an interval. Such were some of this dangerous fellow’s weak points. But on the whole it was by no means a safe thing to cross his path; and few who did so came off altogether scathless.
He pursued his way with a vague feeling of danger and rage, having encountered an opposition of so much more alarming a character than he had anticipated, and found his wife not only competent ferre aspectum to endure his maniacal glare and scowl, but serenely to defy his violence and his wrath. He had abundance of matter for thought and perturbation, and felt himself, when the images of Larcom, Larkin, and Jim Dutton crossed the retina of his memory, some thrill of the fear which ‘hath torment’ — the fear of a terrible coercion which he liked so well to practise in the case of others.
In this mood he paced, without minding in what direction he went, under those great rows of timber which overarch the pathway leading toward Redman’s Dell — the path that he and Mark Wylder had trod in that misty moonlight walk on which I had seen them set out together.
Before he had walked five minutes in this direction, he was encountered by a little girl in a cloak, who stopped and dropped a courtesy. The captain stopped also, and looked at her with a stare which, I suppose, had something forbidding in it, for the child was frightened. But the wild and menacing look was unconscious, and only the reflection of the dark speculations and passions which were tumbling and breaking in his soul.
‘Well, child,’ said he, gently, ‘I think I know your face, but I forget your name.’
‘Little Margery, please Sir, from Miss Lake at Redman’s Farm,’ she replied with a courtesy.
‘Oh! to be sure, yes. And how is Miss Rachel?’
‘Very bad with a headache, please, Sir.’
‘Is she at home?’
‘Yes, Sir, please.’
‘Any message?’
‘Yes, Sir, please — a note for you, Sir;’ and she produced a note, rather, indeed, a letter.
‘She desired me, Sir, please, to give it into your own hand, if I could, and not to leave it, please, Sir, unless you were at home when I reached.’
He read the direction, and dropped it unopened into the pocket of his shooting coat. The peevish glance with which he eyed it betrayed a presentiment of something unpleasant.
‘Any answer required?’
‘No, Sir, please — only to leave it.’
‘And Miss Lake is quite well?’
‘No, Sir, please — a bad headache to-day.’
‘Oh! I’m very sorry, indeed. Tell her so. She is at home, is she?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘Very well; that’s all. Say I am very sorry to hear she is suffering; and if I can find time, I hope to see her to-day; and remember to say I have not read her letter, but if I find it requires an answer, it shall have one.’
He looked round like a man newly awakened, and up among the great boughs and interlacing foliage of the noble trees, and the child made him two courtesies, and departed towards Redman’s Farm.
Lake sauntered back slowly toward the Hall. On his way, a rustic seat under the shadow invited him, and he sat down, drawing Rachel’s letter from his pocket.
What a genius they have for teasing! How women do contrive to waste our time and patience over nonsense! How ingeniously perverse their whimsies are! I do believe Beelzebub employs them still, as he did in Eden, for the special plague of us, poor devils. Here’s a lecture or an exhortation from Miss Radie, and a quantity of infinitely absurd advice, all which I am to read and inwardly digest, and discuss with her whenever she pleases. I’ve a great mind to burn it quietly.’
But he applied his match, instead, to his cigar; and having got it well lighted, he leaned back, and broke the seal, and read this letter, which, I suspect, notwithstanding his preliminary thoughts, he fancied might contain matter of more practical import: —
‘I write to you, my beloved and only brother, Stanley, in an altered state of mind, and with clearer views of duty than, I think, I have ever had before.’
‘Just as I conjectured,’ muttered Stanley, with a bitter smile, as he shook the ashes off the top of his cigar— ‘a woman’s homily.’
He read on, and a livid frown gradually
contracted his forehead as he did so.
‘I do not know, Stanley, what your feelings may be. Mine have been the same ever since that night in which I was taken into a confidence so dreadful. The circumstances are fearful; but far more dreadful to me, the mystery in which I have lived ever since. I sometimes think I have only myself to blame. But you know, my poor brother, why I consented, and with what agony. Ever since, I have lived in terror, and worse, in degradation. I did not know, until it was too late, how great was my guilt. Heaven knows, when I consented to that journey, I did not comprehend its full purpose, though I knew enough to have warned me of my danger, and undertook it in great fear and anguish of mind. I can never cease to mourn over my madness. Oh! Stanley, you do not know what it is to feel, as I do, the shame and treachery of my situation; to try to answer the smiles of those who, at least, once loved me, and to take their hands; to kiss Dorcas and good Dolly; and feel that all the time I am a vile impostor, stained incredibly, from whom, if they knew me, they would turn in horror and disgust. Now, Stanley, I can bear anything but this baseness — anything but the life-long practice of perfidy — that, I will not and cannot endure. Dorcas must know the truth. That there is a secret jealously guarded from her, she does know — no woman could fail to perceive that; and there are few, Stanley, who would not prefer the certainty of the worst, to the anguish of such relations of mystery and reserve with a husband. She is clever, she is generous, and has many noble qualities. She will see what is right, and do it. Me she may hate, and must despise; but that were to me more endurable than friendship gained on false pretences. I repeat, therefore, Stanley, that Dorcas must know the whole truth. Do not suppose, my poor brother, that I write from impulse — I have deeply thought on the subject.’
‘Deeply,’ repeated Stanley, with a sneer.
‘And the more I reflect, the more am I convinced — if you will not tell her, Stanley, that I must. But it will be wiser and better, terrible as it may be, that the revelation should come from you, whom she has made her husband. The dreadful confidence would be more terrible from any other. Be courageous then, Stanley; you will be happier when you have disclosed the truth, and released, at all events, one of your victims.
Complete Works of Sheridan Le Fanu (Illustrated) Page 198
