“No one is doing you violence, Madame. What is happening to you is the result of a very simple measure, which we are forced to adopt with all who land in England.”
“Then you do not know me, sir?”
“This is the first time I have had the honor of seeing you.”
“And on your honor you have no reason to hate me?”
“None at all, I swear.”
There was so much serenity, coolness and gentleness, even, in the young man’s voice that Milady felt reassured.
At length, after about an hour’s journey, the carriage stopped before an iron gate at the entrance to a narrow road which led to a castle, severe in form, massive and isolated. As the wheels rolled over a fine gravel, Milady heard a vast roaring which she immediately recognized as the surge of surf breaking over a rocky coast.
The carriage passed under two arched gateways and at last drew up in a square, gloomy court. Almost immediately the door of the carriage swung open, the young man sprang lightly out and offered his hand to Milady, who leaned upon it and in turn alighted with tolerable calm.
“So I am a prisoner!” she commented, glancing about her and then back at the young officer with a gracious smile. “But surely it will not be for long. My conscience and your politeness are guarantees of that.”
Flattering though the compliment was, the officer made no reply. From his belt he drew a small silver whistle such as boatswains use on battleships and he whistled three times in three different keys. Immediately several men appeared, unharnessed the steaming horses and pushed the carriage into a coach house.
The officer, still with the same calm politeness, invited his fair prisoner to enter the house. With the same gracious smile, Milady took his arm and together they passed under a low arched door which, by a vaulted passageway lighted only at the farther end, led to a stone staircase, winding around a heavy stone pillar. They then came to a massive door; the young man produced a key from his pocket, turned the lock and the door swung heavily upon its hinges, revealing the chamber Milady was to occupy.
With one glance the prisoner took in the apartment in its minutest details. The furniture was appropriate for either a prisoner or a free man; but the bars at the windows and the outside bolts on the door smacked of the prison rather than the guest room.
For an instant all this woman’s strength of mind, though drawn from the most vigorous sources, seemed to abandon her. She sank into a large easy-chair, arms crossed, head bowed, expecting every moment to see a judge enter to interrogate her. But no one entered except some marines who brought in her trunks and bags, set them down in one corner and retired without speaking.
The officer presided over all these details with the same tranquillity as before; he too spoke no word but enforced his orders by a gesture of his hand or a note of his whistle. It was as if spoken language did not exist or had become useless between this man and his inferiors. Unable to hold out any longer, Milady broke the silence:
“In the name of Heaven, sir, what does all this mean? Pray put an end to my doubts: I have courage enough for any peril I can foresee or any misfortune I can grasp. Where am I and why am I here? If I am free, why all these bars and bolts? If I am a prisoner, what crime have I committed?”
“You are here in the apartment that has been prepared for you, Madame. I received orders to meet you on shipboard and to conduct you to this castle. I believe I have fulfilled these orders with the firmness of a soldier, but also with the courtesy of a gentleman. Thus for the present, so far as you are concerned, my mission is at an end. The rest concerns another person.”
“And who is that other person?” Milady asked impatiently. “Can you not tell me his name?”
As she spoke a loud jingling of spurs echoed through the corridor, voices passed by and died out in the distance, then the sound of a single footstep approached the door.
“That person is here, Madame,” the officer said stepping aside to leave the entrance clear and assuming an attitude of great respect.
The door opened, a man appeared on the threshold. He was hatless, he wore his sword by his side and his fingers toyed with a handkerchief.
Milady thought she recognized this shadow in the gloom, with one hand she leaned heavily on the armchair and craned her neck forward as if to face a certainty.
The stranger advanced slowly and as he came into the circle of light projected by the lamp, Milady involuntarily recoiled. Then, when there was no longer any possible doubt, she cried in amazement:
“What, brother, is it you?” Overwhelmed with surprise: “You?”
“Yes, fair lady!” Lord Winter made a bow that was half courteous and half ironical. “Yes, it is I myself, in the flesh!”
“Then this castle—?”
“Is mine.”
“This room—?”
“Is yours.”
“Then I am your prisoner?”
“Virtually.”
“But this is a frightful abuse of power!”
“No hifalutin words, Madame! Come, let us sit down and chat quietly as brother and sister ought to do.”
Then, turning toward the door and noticing that the young officer stood waiting for further orders:
“All is well, I thank you. Now please leave us, Mr. Felton.”
L
OF AN INTIMATE CONVERSATION BETWEEN BROTHER AND SISTER
Lord Winter closed the door, fastened a loose shutter and drew up a chair close to his sister-in-law.
Milady seemed lost in thought. Staring into space, she searched the limits of possibility without imagining what had befallen her and what would come of it. Her brother-in-law was, as she knew, a gentleman, a loyal and decent man, a great huntsman, an inveterate gambler, a wooer of women, but no plotter or intriguer. Could he possibly have discovered the hour of her arrival and had her seized and abducted? If so, why was he holding her?
There was Athos, of course, who had insinuated that her conversation with the Cardinal had not been unheard. But surely Athos could not have acted so promptly?
Perhaps her previous activities in England had come to light. Buckingham might well have discovered that it was she who had stolen the two diamond studs. He might well wish vengeance. Yet Buckingham was temperamentally incapable of persecuting a woman, particularly if that woman was probably moved by jealousy.
Was her past catching up with her or was her future in jeopardy: there lay the whole problem and she inclined toward the former solution. All in all she congratulated herself on falling into the hands of her brother-in-law. A stranger would have been more direct, intelligent and vigorous. Her immediate problem was to find out from Lord Winter what to do in the immediate future. He might not know what this operation signified or he might be hedging. Accordingly she smiled on him and waited for him to react to her charm. She did not have long to wait.
“So you decided to return to England?” he said very evenly. “Against every oath you swore to in Paris, here you are in Britain, eh?”
Question to question, Milady thought, and using enemy tactics:
“May I ask how you were able to know so intimately of my movements? May I ask since when you kept so close a watch upon me? Port of landing, day and hour, even?”
Lord Winter countered in kind:
“What brings you to England, sister?”
“The desire to see you.”
“To see me?”
“Why not? Is that strange?”
“So you have crossed the Channel just to see me.”
“Yes, My Lord and brother!”
“How dearly you must love me, My Lady.”
“You are my only kinsman,” Milady sighed ingenuously.
“Your only kinsman, ay. That makes you my only heir, Madame!”
Milady started. Obtuse as Lord Winter was, he could not fail to observe her dismay. The thrust was direct and deep. Had Kitty betrayed her, Milady wondered. Had Kitty told Lord Winter of certain indiscreet remarks, of certain expressions of dislike, confes
sed by mistress to servant and inspired wholly by greed of gain? Why had Milady been so indifferent and callous on the evening when Lord Winter introduced D’Artagnan to her as the man who had saved her life? And there was Kitty’s disappearance, too.
“My dear brother—” she stalled. “I do not follow you.” She must at all cost let him declare himself. “What on earth do you mean? What mystery lurks behind your words?”
“No mystery at all, my dear sister,” he replied. (Was his joviality spontaneous or assumed?) “So you came to England to see me, eh? Knowing this, I spared you all sorts of annoyance: I sent you an officer to land you easily, I had a carriage at your disposal, you arrive here under my roof, you find a very comfortable room at your disposal, and we shall meet daily. What could be more natural? Certainly, what I tell you is as natural as what you tell me.”
“But how did you know I was coming, brother?”
“Quite simple, Milady. The skipper of your vessel asked for permission to enter this port. He forwarded his logbook and his register. I am Governor of the Port; I consulted these records and I recognized your name. My heart told me what your lips have just confirmed. A choppy sea … a great many formalities … your yearning to see me again—all these considerations inspired me to send my cutter to meet you. You know the rest.…”
“Tell me, My Lord and brother—” Milady, terrified, paused for a moment. “Didn’t I see His Grace of Buckingham on the jetty?”
“Very likely. He is often at Admiralty Headquarters. Coming from France as you do, I suppose the sight of him impressed you. In France, I hear, there is much talk of British armament and preparations for invasion. Apparently this disturbs your friend the Cardinal.”
“My friend the Cardinal!”
“Do you not acknowledge the friendship of His Eminence? Strange, I thought you both hand in glove. But we can discuss Richelieu and Buckingham at some other time. Meanwhile you came, I think you said, in order to visit me?”
“Exactly.”
“As I remarked, you shall have your wish. We shall see each other daily.”
“Then I am to stay—?”
“You will be comfortably lodged, sister. If there is anything you lack, you have but to ask for it.”
“But I have no maid or lackeys.”
“You shall not want for service, Madame: I would not venture to guess upon what footing your first husband established your household but, brother-in-law as I am, I shall match it.”
“My first husband!”
“I mean your French husband, not my brother, who was perhaps your second husband. Or have you forgotten? At all events, you have a French husband still living. I am quite willing to write to him.”
“You are joking, brother,” Milady said airily. But a cold sweat broke over her brow.
“Do I look like a jester?”
“No. You look like someone who is trying to insult me!”
“Insult you! Is it humanly possible to insult you?”
“God help us, My Lord and brother, you are either in your cups or out of your senses. I beg you to withdraw and send me a maidservant.”
“Women are discreet, eh, sister? Shall I play the maid to you? Family secrets—”
“Coward!” Milady looked angrily at him, then sprang across the room. “Coward!” she repeated.
“Well, well, well,” Lord Winter replied, his arms crossed but his right hand on the pommel of his sword. “Murder is murder and you are skilled in the art. But I warn you I can defend myself even against you.”
“Yes, you are cowardly enough to draw your sword against a woman.”
“It would not be the first time a man raised his hand against you in punishment,” he said, pointing to her left shoulder. “Snarl all you wish, tigress sister,” he went on, “but do not bite, for it will not profit you. Here are no lawyers to settle an estate in advance … and no knights errant to quarrel with me for the sake of the female I hold incommunicado … here are only judges and righteous judges.… They will make short shrift of a bigamist, however charming; and I warn you they will hand you over to a hangman who will make your two shoulders as like as a brace of cherries on one stem.”
Milady’s eyes flashed and, though armed, Lord Winter cowered. The chill of fear stole over him but with rising anger.
“Yes, I know your game,” he continued, “you inherited my brother’s fortune, now you plan to inherit mine. But, kill me or not, I am forewarned. Not one penny of mine can possibly go to you. Are you not rich enough? God knows you ‘inherited’ almost a million. But it was not enough; you had perforce to pursue your wicked career. Tell me—” he glanced speculatively at her, “was it greed of gain that possessed you or love of evil for evil’s sake?”
“My Lord—”
“At all events I can tell you this. Were my brother’s memory not sacred to me, you would now be rotting in a state dungeon or providing a spectacle to entertain the curiosity of sailors at Tyburn. For my part I shall not unmask you: by the same token, I advise you to take your imprisonment calmly. Within two or three weeks I go to La Rochelle with the army. The day before I sail, a vessel will come for you and I shall see you off to our colonies in the south. You may be assured of a bodyguard who will blow your brains out at the first effort you make to return to England or to the Continent.”
Milady, her fiery eyes dilated, listened with extreme concentration.
“Thus for the present you are to remain here in this castle,” Lord Winter went on. “Its walls are thick, its doors are strong, its bars are stout. Besides, your window juts out over the deep blue sea. My men, who are devoted to me body and soul, stand watch around this apartment; they guard every passage leading to the courtyard; even if you managed by some miracle to reach the courtyard, you would still have to pass through three iron gates. My orders are positive: one step, one move, one word suggesting escape and you will be shot down. Should you be killed, English justice will, I trust, be beholden to me for having spared it some work.”
Milady stared at him coldly as though he was speaking in some foreign language.
“Ha, I see!” he said. “You are calm again, your features placid and your countenance serene as ever. ‘Two weeks,’ you say, ‘three weeks, pshaw! I have an inventive mind. Between now and then I shall contrive something. My soul was fashioned in hell, I shall soon find a victim to spirit me out of here!’ Well, Madame, my only answer is: Try it!”
Milady, her innermost thoughts betrayed, dug her nails into her flesh to restrain any expression other then one of painful apprehension. Lord Winter continued:
“The officer in command here during my absence you already know, for he brought you here from Portsmouth. You observed how implicitly he obeys orders, for I am sure you could not have traveled together all that way without your attempting to sound him out. Tell me, was marble statue ever more impassive and more mute? Ah, you have tried your powers of seduction on many men and unfortunately you have always succeeded. Now try them upon this one; by God, if you get the better of him, I shall certify you to be Satan himself.”
Walking across to the door, he flung it open:
“Send for Mr. Felton,” he ordered. Then turning to Milady: “In a few moments I shall recommend you to his care.”
A strange silence ensued between the two. Presently slow regular footsteps could be heard approaching; soon a human form loomed in the shadows of the corridor and Felton stood at attention, awaiting his master’s orders.
“Come in, my dear John,” said Lord Winter, “come in and close the door.” As the young officer obeyed: “Now, John, look carefully at this woman. She is young, she possesses all earthly seductions and charms but she is a fiend incarnate. At twenty-five this monster stands guilty of as many crimes as you could read of in a year in the archives of our courts-at-law. Her voice is prepossessing, her beauty serves as a lure for her victims; and her body pays what she promises—that, at least, I must grant her. She will attempt to seduce you, she may even attempt to kill
you.”
Lord Winter coughed, looked frankly at Felton, paused for another moment, and in simple sincere tones pursued:
“I rescued you from a life of wretchedness, John; I obtained your Lieutenant’s commission for you and I once saved your life, you recall on what occasion. I am not only your protector but your friend; I am not only your benefactor but almost your father. This woman here came to England in order to plot against my life; I now hold the snake in my hands. So I have sent for you to tell you: ‘Friend Felton, my dear lad, beware of this woman for my sake but especially for yours. Swear to me by your hope of salvation that you will preserve her for the punishment she has so richly deserved. John Felton, I trust in your pledged word; Lieutenant Felton, I trust in your loyalty.’ ”
The young man’s mild calm expression changed; he flushed with all the hatred he could find in his heart:
“My Lord,” he said solemnly, “your orders will be carried out.”
Her eyes on his face, Milady received Felton’s harsh glance with the air of a gentle victim, innocence and submission written large upon her exquisite features. Even Lord Winter found it difficult to believe that here was the tigress he had been ready to strike down a few moments ago.
“This woman is never to leave this room under any circumstances whatever, do you understand, John? She is to communicate with no one by writing, and orally with you alone. Whether or not you do her the honor of replying is your own affair.”
“I understand, My Lord. I have given you my word of honor.”
Lord Winter nodded. Then to Milady:
“Now that Man has passed judgment upon you, Madame,” he advised, “try to make your peace with God.”
Milady bowed her head as if crushed by the overwhelming justice of this sentence; Lord Winter beckoned to Felton to follow and the door closed upon them. A moment later the steady tread of a sentry echoed up and down the corridor with the occasional clank of a musket against wall or floor.
Suspecting that somebody might be spying up on her through the keyhole, Milady sat stock-still for some minutes. Then raising her head she stared into space, her features contracted in defiance and menace. Presently she edged toward the door to listen; then she crossed to the window to look down on the sea; and at last she sank back into her armchair, lost in thought.
The Modern Library Children's Classics Page 115
