The Mysteries of London Volume 1

by Reynolds, George W. M.

  She felt exhausted and wearied, and partook of a slight refreshment. She then took a candle from the table, and proceeded upstairs to the bed-room prepared for her. Having carefully bolted the door, she sate down to reflect upon the propriety of writing to her father the note suggested by Greenwood. She felt most acutely on the old man’s account; and she knew that she would not be permitted to communicate with him in terms more explicit than those mentioned by her persecutor. Such terms were too vague and equivocal to be satisfactory;—and she concluded in her own mind that silence was the better alternative of the two.

  Having once more satisfied herself that the room was safe against all chances of intrusion, she thought of retiring to rest. She laid aside her bonnet and shawl, which she had hitherto kept on, and then took off her gown. She approached a long Psyche, or full-length mirror, that stood near the dressing-table (for the room was elegantly furnished), and for a moment contemplated herself with feelings of pride and pleasure—in spite of the vexatious position in which she found herself. But vanity was now an essential ingredient of her character. It had been engendered, nurtured, and matured by the mode of life she had been compelled to adopt.

  And, assuredly, hers were charms of which she had full right to be proud. The mirror reflected to her eyes a countenance that had been deemed worthy to embellish a Venus on the canvass of a great painter. In that same faithful glass was also seen a form the beautiful undulations and rich contours of which were perfectly symmetrical, and yet voluptuously matured. The delicate white corset yielded with docile elasticity to the shape which no invention of art could improve. The form reduced that corset to suit its own proportions; and in no way did the corset shape the form. Those swelling globes of snow, each adorned as with a delicate rose-bud, needed no support to maintain them in their full and natural rotundity;—the curvatures which formed the waist, were not drawn nearer to each other by the compression of the stay;—the graceful swell of the hips required no art to improve or augment its copiousness. Ellen smiled—in spite of herself,—smiled complacently—smiled almost proudly, as she surveyed her perfect form in that mirror.

  But, hark! what sound is that which suddenly falls upon her ear?

  She starts—looks round—and listens.

  Again!—that sound is repeated.

  This time she comprehends its source: some one is tapping gently at the side window of the room.

  Ellen hastily put on her gown once more, and advanced to the casement.

  She raised the blind, and beheld the dark form of a man mounted upon a ladder, at the window. A second glance convinced her that he was the tall Italian whom she had before seen.

  She approached as closely as possible, and said, in a low tone, “What do you require? what means this strange proceeding?”

  “I am come to save you,” answered Filippo, in a voice so low, that his words were scarcely intelligible. “Do not be afraid—I am he who wrote the warning letter, which——”

  Without a moment’s farther hesitation, Ellen gently raised the window.

  “I am he who wrote the warning letter which you received at the theatre,” repeated Filippo. “Although ostensibly compelled to serve my master, yet privately I counteract all his vile schemes to the utmost of my power.”

  “I believe you—I trust you,” said Ellen, overjoyed at the arrival of this unlooked-for succour. “What would you have me do?”

  “Tie the sheets of the bed together—fasten one end to the bed-post, and throw the other outside,” returned Filippo, speaking in a rapid whisper.

  In less than a minute this was done; and Ellen once more assumed her bonnet and shawl.

  By the directions of Filippo she then stepped upon the window-sill: he received her in his arms, and bore her in safety to the ground.

  Then, taking the ladder on his shoulders, he desired her to follow him without speaking a word.

  They passed behind the house, and stopped for a moment at a stable where Filippo deposited the ladder. He then led the way across a field adjoining the garden that belonged to the house.

  “Lady,” said the Italian, when they were at some distance from the dwelling, “if you consider that you owe me any gratitude for the service I am now rendering you, all the recompense I require is strict silence on your part with respect to the real mode of your escape.”

  “Rest well assured that I shall never betray you,” answered Ellen. “But how is it that so bad a man as your master can possess so honest and generous a follower as you?”

  “That, lady, is a mystery which it is by no means difficult to explain,” replied Filippo. “Chosen by a noble-hearted lady, who by this time doubtless enjoys a sovereign rank in another clime, to counteract the villanies of Greenwood, I came to England; and fortunately I learnt that he required a foreign valet. I applied for the situation and obtained it. He believes me faithful, because I appear to enter heart and soul into all his schemes; but I generally succeed eventually in defeating or mitigating their evil effects upon others. This is the simple truth, lady; and you must consider my confidence in you as implicitly sacred. Any revelation—the slightest hint, on your part, would frustrate the generous purposes of my mistress. And think not, lady, that I am merely acting the part of a base spy:—I mean Mr. Greenwood no harm—I shall do him none: all I aim at is the prevention of harm springing from his machinations in regard to others. But we are now at the spot where a vehicle waits to convey you back to London.”

  Filippo opened the door of a barn, which they had just reached; and the cabman responded to his summons.

  In a few minutes the vehicle was ready to depart. Ellen offered the Italian a recompense for his goodness towards her; but he drew himself up haughtily, and said, “Keep your gold, lady: I require no other reward than silence on your part.”

  He then handed Miss Monroe into the vehicle; and ordered the driver to conduct the lady whithersoever she commanded him.

  Ellen desired to be taken home to Markham Place; the Italian raised his hat respectfully; and the cab drove rapidly away towards London.

  Miss Monroe now began to reflect profoundly upon the nature of the excuse which she should offer to her father and Richard Markham, to account for her prolonged absence. We have before said that she had ceased to shrink from a falsehood; and she had certain cogent reasons for never associating her own name with that of Greenwood;—much less would she acquaint her father or Richard with an outrage which would only induce them to adopt means to punish its perpetrator, and thus bring them in collision with him.

  At length she resolved upon stating that she had been taken ill at a concert where she had been engaged for the evening: this course would be comprehended by Markham, who would only have to substitute the word “theatre” for “concert” in his own imagination; and it would also satisfy her father.

  We need merely add to this episode in our eventful history that Ellen reached home safely at four o’clock in the morning, and that the excuse was satisfactory to both Markham and her father, who were anxiously awaiting her return.

  CHAPTER XCIII.

  NEWS FROM CASTELCICALA.

  RETURN we once more to Diana Arlington, who still occupied the splendid mansion in Dover Street, which had been fitted up for her by the Earl of Warrington.

  The routine of the life of the Enchantress continued the same as we have described it in Chapter LI.

  The Earl of Warrington was unremitting in his attention, and unchanged in his liberality towards his beautiful mistress; and, on her part, Diana was the faithful friend and true companion who by her correct conduct maintained the confidence which she had inspired in the heart of her noble protector.

  We must again introduce our readers to the Enchantress at the hour of breakfast, and in the little parlour where we have before seen her.

  But on this occasion, instead of being
occupied with the perusal of the Morning Herald, her entire attention was absorbed in the contents of a letter, which ran as follows:—

  “Montoni, December 3, 1839.

  “I SIT down, my dearest Diana, to inform you that the ceremony of my union with his Serene Highness Angelo III. was solemnized yesterday.

  “You are aware that this ceremony was to have taken place some months ago; but the intrigues of certain persons holding high and influential offices in the state, delayed it. Calumny after calumny against me was whispered in the ears of the Grand Duke; and, although his Highness believed not a word of those evil reports, I steadily refused to accept the honour he was anxious to confer upon me, until he had satisfied himself of the falsity of each successive calumny. At length I implored his Highness to address an autograph letter to the Earl of Warrington, with whom his Highness was acquainted during the residence of that good English nobleman in Castelcicala. His Highness complied with my request, and despatched his letter so privately that none of those who surround him suspected his proceeding. The Earl of Warrington, as you know, dearest Diana, hastened to reply. His answer was so satisfactory, so frank, so generous, so candid, that the Duke declared he would visit with his severest displeasure any one who dared breathe a word of calumny against me or my friends in England, in future.

  “The next step adopted by his Serene Highness was to dismiss the Marquis of Gerrano from the office of Minister of Foreign Affairs. Baron Ruperto, the Under Secretary in that Department, retired with his superior. The Duke adopted this measure in consequence of the intrigues of those noblemen to thwart his Highness’s intentions of raising to the ducal throne the woman whom he loved. You may suppose how grieved—how vexed—how distressed I have been through the conviction that I myself was the cause of these heart-burnings, jealousies, and intrigues; and although I was innocently the source of such disagreeable proceedings, my sorrow and annoyance were but little mitigated by this impression. I implored the Grand Duke to allow me to leave the country, and retire to Switzerland; but his Serene Highness remained firm, and assured me that, although he had many difficulties to overcome, he was not disheartened. Then he declared that his entire happiness was centred in me, and he thus over-ruled my scruples.

  “At length the duke remodelled his cabinet (a fact to which I alluded above) by appointing the Count of Friuli (who is deeply attached to His Highness, and favourable to our union) to the Foreign Office, in place of the Marquis of Gerrano. Signor Pisani, another faithful dependant of His Highness, was appointed Under-Secretary in the place of Baron Ruperto. The Minister of War also retired, and was succeeded by General Grachia. When these changes were effected, his Serene Highness communicated to the council of ministers his intention to unite himself to Eliza Marchioness of Ziani on the 2d of December of the present year.

  “This decision was made known on the 19th of last month. I did not write to communicate the important fact to you, because I was apprehensive of new delays; and as I had already misled you once (though unintentionally on my part) I was unwilling to deceive either you or myself a second time. I know your friendship for me, Diana,—I know that you entertain a sister’s love for me, the same that I feel for you,—and I also know that you anxiously watch the progress of my fortunes, as, under similar circumstances, I should yours. I therefore resolved to acquaint you with no more of my hopes, until they should have been realised. That result has now been attained; and I need preserve a cold silence no longer.

  “In the evening of the 19th of November, the Grand Chancellor of Castelcicala, the President of the Council (the Marquis of Vincenza), and the Archbishop of Montoni, visited me at the villa to acquaint me with the royal decision. I endeavoured—and I hope succeeded—to convince their lordships of the profound sense which I entertained of the high honour intended to be conferred upon me, and my conviction that no merit which I possessed could render me worthy of such distinction; at the same time I declared my readiness to accept that honour, since it was the will and pleasure of a sovereign Prince to bestow it upon me.

  “I can scarcely tell you the nature of the varied emotions and feelings which filled—indeed agitated—my bosom when the memorable morning dawned. That was yesterday! I awoke at an early—a very early hour—before six, and walked in the garden with the hope that the fresh air and the charming tranquillity of the scene would compose me. I could scarcely believe that I was on the point of entering upon such high destinies; that a diadem was so soon to encircle my brow; that the thrilling words Highness and Princess would in a few hours be addressed to me! I could not reconcile with my former obscure lot the idea that I was shortly to sit upon a sovereign throne—command the allegiance of millions of human beings,—and share the fortunes of a potentate of Europe! Was it possible that I—I who was the daughter of a poor farmer, and who had seen so much of the vicissitudes of life,—I who had thought myself happy with the competence which I enjoyed through the Earl of Warrington’s bounty at Clapton,—I who conceived myself to be one of the most fortunate of individuals when, by the goodness of that same excellent peer, I arrived in this State, and took possession of the villa which he had placed at my disposal,—I who had then no more elevated aspirations than to dwell in tranquillity and peace—no loftier hope than to deserve that kind nobleman’s benefits by my conduct—was it possible that I was in a few hours to become the Grand Duchess of Castelcicala? I could not fix my mind to such a belief; the idea seemed an oriental fiction—a romantic dream. And yet, I remembered, I had already received an earnest of this splendid promise of fortune; I had already been elevated from a lowly condition to an exalted rank; the distinction of a Marchioness was mine; for months had I been accustomed to the sounding title of Your Ladyship; and for months had I been enrolled amongst the peeresses of Castelcicala. Yes—I thought: it was true,—true that a Prince—a powerful Prince—intended to raise me to a seat upon his own ducal throne!

  “At seven precisely the three lovely daughters of General Grachia arrived at the villa to assist me in my toilette—my nuptial toilette. They informed me that, if it were my pleasure, they were to remain in attendance upon me after my marriage. I embraced them tenderly, and assured them that they should always be near me as friends. When the toilette was completed, I bade adieu to the villa. I wept—wept tears of mingled joy and sorrow as I said farewell to that abode where I had passed so many happy, happy hours! At length I entered General Grachia’s carriage, which was waiting; and, accompanied by my three amiable friends, repaired to their father’s private dwelling (not his official palace of the War Department) in Montoni.

  “Here my letter must terminate. Enclosed is an account of the entire ceremony, translated into English by my private secretary (who is well acquainted with my native tongue) from the Montoni Gazette. Fain would I have erased those passages which are favourable—too favourable to myself; but I fancied that my friend—my sister Diana would be pleased to read the narrative in its integrity.

  “In conclusion, let me say—and do you believe it as devoutly as I say it sincerely—that, in spite of my rank and fortunes,—in spite of the splendours that surround me, to you I am in heart, and always shall remain, the same attached and grateful being, whom you have known as

  “ELIZA SYDNEY.”

  It would be impossible to describe the feelings of delight with which Mrs. Arlington perused the latter portion of this letter. Pass we on, therefore, to the Bridal Ceremony, as it was described in the translated narrative which accompanied the communication of the Grand Duchess:—

  “THE MARRIAGE OF THE GRAND DUKE.

  “Yesterday morning were celebrated the nuptials of his Serene Highness Angelo III. and Eliza Marchioness of Ziani.

  “From an early hour the capital wore an appearance of unusual gaiety and bustle. The houses looking on the Piazzetta of Contarini, leading to the ancient Cathedral of Saint Theodosia, were decorated in a most splendid manner with banners
, garlands, festoons of flowers, and various ornaments and devices appropriate to the occasion. The balconies were fitted up as verdant bowers and arbours, and the lovely characteristics of the country were thus introduced into the very heart of the city. The Town-Hall was hung with numerous banners; and the royal standard waved proudly over the Black Tower of the Citadel. The shops in those streets through which the procession was to pass were fitted up with seats which were let to those who were willing to pay the high prices demanded for them. In other parts of the city the shops and marts of trade were all closed, as was the Exchange. A holiday was observed at the Bank of Castelcicala; and the business of the General Post Office closed at eleven o’clock in the forenoon. Nor was the port less gay than the city. All the vessels in the harbour and docks, as well as those in the roadstead, were decked with innumerable flags. The royal standard floated from the main of the ships of war of the Castelcicalan navy. The sight was altogether most imposing and lively.

  “At seven o’clock the bells of Saint Theodosia and all the other churches in Montoni rang out merry peals and the troops of the garrison got under arms. At a quarter before eight the Mayor and Corporation of the city, arrayed in their robes of green velvet edged with gold, proceeded to the palace and presented an address of congratulation on the auspicious day, to his Serene Highness, who was pleased to return a most gracious answer. It being generally understood that the Marchioness of Ziani would in the first instance alight at the dwelling of General Grachia, the Minister of War, a crowd of highly respectable and well-dressed persons had collected in that neighbourhood. At nine o’clock the General’s private carriage, which had been sent to convey the future Grand Duchess from her own abode to the General’s mansion, drove rapidly up the street, attended by two outriders. We shall never forget the enthusiasm manifested by the assembled multitude upon that occasion. All political feelings appeared to be forgotten; and a loud, hearty, and prolonged burst of welcome met the ear. The object of this ebullition of generous feeling bowed gracefully to the crowds on either side; and the cheering continued for some moments after the carriage had entered the court-yard of the General’s mansion.