Man and Wife

by Wilkie Collins

Anne opened the letter, and looked at it for the second time. The

  passages relating to Sir Patrick were expressed in these terms:

  "I don't think, darling, you have any idea of the interest that

  you have roused in my uncle. Although he has not to reproach

  himself, as I have, with being the miserable cause of the

  sacrifice that you have made, he is quite as wretched and quite

  as anxious about you as I am. We talk of nobody else. He said

  last night that he did not believe there was your equal in the

  world. Think of that from a man who has such terribly sharp eyes

  for the faults of women in general, and such a terribly sharp

  tongue in talking of them! I am pledged to secrecy; but I must

  tell you one other thing, between ourselves. Lord Holchester's

  announcement that his brother refuses to consent to a separation

  put my uncle almost beside himself. If there is not some change

  for the better in your life in a few days' time, Sir Patrick will

  find out a way of his own--lawful or not, he doesn't care--for

  rescuing you from the dreadful position in which you are placed,

  and Arnold (with my full approval) will help him. As we

  understand it, you are, under one pretense or another, kept a

  close prisoner. Sir Patrick has already secured a post of

  observation near you. He and Arnold went all round the cottage

  last night, and examined a door in your back garden wall, with a

  locksmith to help them. You will no doubt hear further about this

  from Sir Patrick himself. Pray don't appear to know any thing of

  it when you see him! I am not in his confidence--but Arnold is,

  which comes to the same thing exactly. You will see us (I mean

  you will see my uncle and me) to-morrow, in spite of the brute

  who keeps you under lock and key. Arnold will not accompany us;

  he is not to be trusted (he owns it himself) to control his

  indignation. Courage, dearest! There are two people in the world

  to whom you are inestimably precious, and who are determined not

  to let your happiness be sacrificed. I am one of them, and (for

  Heaven's sake keep this a secret also!) Sir Patrick is the

  other."

  Absorbed in the letter, and in the conflict of opposite feelings

  which it roused--her color rising when it turned her thoughts

  inward on herself, and fading again when she was reminded by it

  of the coming visit--Anne was called back to a sense of present

  events by the reappearance of the servant, charged with a

  message. Mr. Speedwell had been for some time in the cottage, and

  he was now waiting to see her down stairs.

  Anne found the surgeon alone in the drawing-room. He apologized

  for disturbing her at that early hour.

  "It was impossible for me to get to Fulham yesterday," he said,

  "and I could only make sure of complying with Lord Holchester's

  request by coming here before the time at which I receive

  patients at home. I have seen Mr. Delamayn, and I have requested

  permission to say a word to you on the subject of his health."

  Anne looked through the window, and saw Geoffrey smoking his

  pipe--not in the back garden, as usual, but in front of the

  cottage, where he could keep his eye on the gate.

  "Is he ill?" she asked.

  "He is seriously ill," answered Mr. Speedwell. "I should not

  otherwise have troubled you with this interview. It is a matter

  of professional duty to warn you, as his wife, that he is in

  danger. He may be seized at any moment by a paralytic stroke. The

  only chance for him--a very poor one, I am bound to say--is to

  make him alter his present mode of life without loss of time."

  "In one way he will be obliged to alter it," said Anne. "He has

  received notice from the landlady to quit this cottage."

  Mr. Speedwell looked surprised.

  "I think you will find that the notice has been withdrawn," he

  said. "I can only assure you that Mr. Delamayn distinctly

  informed me, when I advised change of air, that he had decided,

  for reasons of his own, on remaining here."

  (Another in the series of incomprehensible domestic events!

  Hester Dethridge--on all other occasions the most immovable of

  women--had changed her mind!)

  "Setting that aside," proceeded the surgeon, "there are two

  preventive measures which I feel bound to suggest. Mr. Delamayn

  is evidently suffering (though he declines to admit it himself)

  from mental anxiety. If he is to have a chance for his life, that

  anxiety must be set at rest. Is it in your power to relieve it?"

  "It is not even in my power, Mr. Speedwell, to tell you what it

  is."

  The surgeon bowed, and went on:

  "The second caution that I have to give you," he said, "is to

  keep him from drinking spirits. He admits having committed an

  excess in that way the night before last. In his state of health,

  drinking means literally death. If he goes back to the

  brandy-bottle--forgive me for saying it plainly; the matter is

  too serious to be trifled with--if he goes back to the

  brandy-bottle, his life, in my opinion, is not worth five

  minutes' purchase. Can you keep him from drinking?"

  Anne answered sadly and plainly:

  "I have no influence over him. The terms we are living on here--"

  Mr. Speedwell considerately stopped her.

  "I understand," he said. "I will see his brother on my way home."

  He looked for a moment at Anne. "You are far from well yourself,"

  he resumed. "Can I do any thing for you?"

  "While I am living my present life, Mr. Speedwell, not even your

  skill can help me."

  The surgeon took his leave. Anne hurried back up stairs, before

  Geoffrey could re-enter the cottage. To see the man who had laid

  her life waste--to meet the vindictive hatred that looked

  furtively at her out of his eyes--at the moment when sentence of

  death had been pronounced on him, was an ordeal from which every

  finer instinct in her nature shrank in horror.

  Hour by hour, the morning wore on, and he made no attempt to

  communicate with her, Stranger still, Hester Dethridge never

  appeared. The servant came up stairs to say goodby; and went away

  for her holiday. Shortly afterward, certain sounds reached Anne's

  ears from the opposite side of the passage. She heard the strokes

  of a hammer, and then a noise as of some heavy piece of furniture

  being moved. The mysterious repairs were apparently being begun

  in the spare room.

  She went to the window. The hour was approaching at which Sir

  Patrick and Blanche might be expected to make the attempt to see

  her.

  For the third time, she looked at the letter.

  It suggested, on this occasion, a new consideration to her. Did

  the strong measures which Sir Patrick had taken in secret

  indicate alarm as well as sympathy? Did he believe she was in a

  position in which the protection of the law was powerless to

  reach her? It seemed just possible. Suppose she were free to

  consult a magistrate, and to own to him (if words could express

  it) the vague presentiment of danger which was then present in

  her
mind--what proof could she produce to satisfy the mind of a

  stranger? The proofs were all in her husband's favor. Witnesses

  could testify to the conciliatory words which he had spoken to

  her in their presence. The evidence of his mother and brother

  would show that he had preferred to sacrifice his own pecuniary

  interests rather than consent to part with her. She could furnish

  nobody with the smallest excuse, in her case, for interfering

  between man and wife. Did Sir Patrick see this? And did Blanche's

  description of what he and Arnold Brinkworth were doing point to

  the conclusion that they were taking the law into their own hands

  in despair? The more she thought of it, the more likely it

  seemed.

  She was still pursuing the train of thought thus suggested, when

  the gate-bell rang.

  The noises in the spare room suddenly stopped.

  Anne looked out. The roof of a carriage was visible on the other

  side of the wall. Sir Patrick and Blanche had arrived. After an

  interval Hester Dethridge appeared in the garden, and went to the

  grating in the gate. Anne heard Sir Patrick's voice, clear and

  resolute. Every word he said reached her ears through the open

  window.

  "Be so good as to give my card to Mr. Delamayn. Say that I bring

  him a message from Holchester House, and that I can only deliver

  it at a personal interview."

  Hester Dethridge returned to the cottage. Another, and a longer

  interval elapsed. At the end of the time, Geoffrey himself

  appeared in the front garden, with the key in his hand. Anne's

  heart throbbed fast as she saw him unlock the gate, and asked

  herself what was to follow.

  To her unutterable astonishment, Geoffrey admitted Sir Patrick

  without the slightest hesitation--and, more still, he invited

  Blanche to leave the carriage and come in!

  "Let by-gones be by-gones," Anne heard him say to Sir Patrick. "I

  only want to do the right thing. If it's the right thing for

  visitors to come here, so soon after my father's death, come, and

  welcome. My own notion was, when you proposed it before, that it

  was wrong. I am not much versed in these things. I leave it to

  you."

  "A visitor who brings you messages from your mother and your

  brother," Sir Patrick answered gravely, "is a person whom it is

  your duty to admit, Mr. Delamayn, under any circumstances."

  "And he ought to be none the less welcome," added Blanche, "when

  he is accompanied by your wife's oldest and dearest friend."

  Geoffrey looked, in stolid submission, from one to the other.

  "I am not much versed in these things," he repeated. "I have said

  already, I leave it to you."

  They were by this time close under Anne's window. She showed

  herself. Sir Patrick took off his hat. Blanche kissed her hand

  with a cry of joy, and attempted to enter the cottage. Geoffrey

  stopped her--and called to his wife to come down.

  "No! no!" said Blanche. "Let me go up to her in her room."

  She attempted for the second time to gain the stairs. For the

  second time Geoffrey stopped her. "Don't trouble yourself," he

  said; "she is coming down."

  Anne joined them in the front garden. Blanche flew into her arms

  and devoured her with kisses. Sir Patrick took her hand in

  silence. For the first time in Anne's experience of him, the

  bright, resolute, self-reliant old man was, for the moment, at a

  loss what to say, at a loss what to do. His eyes, resting on her

  in mute sympathy and interest, said plainly, "In your husband's

  presence I must not trust myself to speak."

  Geoffrey broke the silence.

  "Will you go into the drawing-room?" he asked, looking with

  steady attention at his wife and Blanche.

  Geoffrey's voice appeared to rouse Sir Patrick. He raised his

  head--he looked like himself again.

  "Why go indoors this lovely weather?" he said. "Suppose we take a

  turn in the garden?"

  Blanche pressed Anne's hand significantly. The proposal was

  evidently made for a purpose. They turned the corner of the

  cottage and gained the large garden at the back--the two ladies

  walking together, arm in arm; Sir Patrick and Geoffrey following

  them. Little by little, Blanche quickened her pace. "I have got

  my instructions," she whispered to Anne. "Let's get out of his

  hearing."

  It was more easily said than done. Geoffrey kept close behind

  them.

  "Consider my lameness, Mr. Delamayn," said Sir Patrick. "Not

  quite so fast."

  It was well intended. But Geoffrey's cunning had taken the alarm.

  Instead of dropping behind with Sir Patrick, he called to his

  wife.

  "Consider Sir Patrick's lameness," he repeated. "Not quite so

  fast."

  Sir Patrick met that check with characteristic readiness. When

  Anne slackened her pace, he addressed himself to Geoffrey,

  stopping deliberately in the middle of the path. "Let me give you

  my message from Holchester House," he said. The two ladies were

  still slowly walking on. Geoffrey was placed between the

  alternatives of staying with Sir Patrick and leaving them by

  themselves--or of following them and leaving Sir Patrick.

  Deliberately, on his side, he followed the ladies.

  Sir Patrick called him back. "I told you I wished to speak to

  you," he said, sharply.

  Driven to bay, Geoffrey openly revealed his resolution to give

  Blanche no opportunity of speaking in private to Anne. He called

  to Anne to stop.

  "I have no secrets from my wife," he said. "And I expect my wife

  to have no secrets from me. Give me the message in her hearing."

  Sir Patrick's eyes brightened with indignation. He controlled

  himself, and looked for an instant significantly at his niece

  before he spoke to Geoffrey.

  "As you please ," he said. "Your brother requests me to tell you

  that the duties of the new position in which he is placed occupy

  the whole of his time, and will prevent him from returning to

  Fulham, as he had proposed, for some days to come. Lady

  Holchester, hearing that I was likely to see you, has charged me

  with another message, from herself. She is not well enough to

  leave home; and she wishes to see you at Holchester House

  to-morrow--accompanied (as she specially desires) by Mrs.

  Delamayn."

  In giving the two messages, he gradually raised his voice to a

  louder tone than usual. While he was speaking, Blanche (warned to

  follow her instructions by the glance her uncle had cast at her)

  lowered her voice, and said to Anne:

  "He won't consent to the separation as long as he has got you

  here. He is trying for higher terms. Leave him, and he must

  submit. Put a candle in your window, if you can get into the

  garden to-night. If not, any other night. Make for the back gate

  in the wall. Sir Patrick and Arnold will manage the rest."

  She slipped those words into Anne's ears--swinging her parasol to

  and fro, and looking as if the merest gossip was dropping from

  her lips--with the dexterity which
rarely fails a woman when she

  is called on to assist a deception in which her own interests are

  concerned. Cleverly as it had been done, however, Geoffrey's

  inveterate distrust was stirred into action by it. Blanche had

  got to her last sentence before he was able to turn his attention

  from what Sir Patrick was saying to what his niece was saying. A

  quicker man would have heard more. Geoffrey had only distinctly

  heard the first half of the last sentence.

  "What's that," he asked, "about Sir Patrick and Arnold?"

  "Nothing very interesting to you," Blanche answered, readily. "I

  will repeat it if you like. I was telling Anne about my

  step-mother, Lady Lundie. After what happened that day in

  Portland Place, she has requested Sir Patrick and Arnold to

  consider themselves, for the future, as total strangers to her.

  That's all."

  "Oh!" said Geoffrey, eying her narrowly.

  "Ask my uncle," returned Blanche, "if you don't believe that I

  have reported her correctly. She gave us all our dismissal, in

  her most magnificent manner, and in those very words. Didn't she,

  Sir Patrick?"

  It was perfectly true. Blanche's readiness of resource had met

  the emergency of the moment by describing something, in

  connection with Sir Patrick and Arnold, which had really

  happened. Silenced on one side, in spite of himself, Geoffrey was

  at the same moment pressed on the other for an answer to his

  mother's message.

  "I must take your reply to Lady Holchester, " said Sir Patrick.

  "What is it to be?"

  Geoffrey looked hard at him, without making any reply.

  Sir Patrick repeated the message--with a special emphasis on that

  part of it which related to Anne. The emphasis roused Geoffrey's

  temper.

  "You and my mother have made that message up between you, to try

  me!" he burst out. "Damn all underhand work is what _I_ say!"

  "I am waiting for your answer," persisted Sir Patrick, steadily

  ignoring the words which had just been addressed to him.

  Geoffrey glanced at Anne, and suddenly recovered himself.

  "My love to my mother," he said. "I'll go to her to-morrow--and

  take my wife with me, with the greatest pleasure. Do you hear

  that? With the greatest pleasure." He stopped to observe the

  effect of his reply. Sir Patrick waited impenetrably to hear

  more--if he had more to say. "I'm sorry I lost my temper just

  now," he resumed "I am badly treated--I'm distrusted without a

  cause. I ask you to bear witness," he added, his voice getting

  louder again, while his eyes moved uneasily backward and forward

  between Sir Patrick and Anne, "that I treat my wife as becomes a

  lady. Her friend calls on her--and she's free to receive her

  friend. My mother wants to see her--and I promise to take her to

  my mother's. At two o'clock to-morrow. Where am I to blame? You

  stand there looking at me, and saying nothing. Where am I to

  blame?"

  "If a man's own conscience justifies him, Mr. Delamayn," said Sir

  Patrick, "the opinions of others are of very little importance.

  My errand here is performed."

  As he turned to bid Anne farewell, the uneasiness that he felt at

  leaving her forced its way to view. The color faded out of his

  face. His hand trembled as it closed tenderly and firmly on hers.

  "I shall see you to-morrow, at Holchester House," he said; giving

  his arm while he spoke to Blanche. He took leave of Geoffrey,

  without looking at him again, and without seeing his offered

  hand. In another minute they were gone.

  Anne waited on the lower floor of the cottage while Geoffrey

  closed and locked the gate. She had no wish to appear to avoid

  him, after the answer that he had sent to his mother's message.

  He returned slowly half-way across the front garden, looked

  toward the passage in which she was standing, passed before the

  door, and disappeared round the corner of the cottage on his way

  to the back garden. The inference was not to be mistaken. It was