by Hall, Ian
"And what then?"
"She -- she fell upon my breast and wept and blessed me. Could I desert her -- could I say to her, 'My dear girl, when you were full of health and beauty, I loved you, but now that sadness is at your heart I leave you?' Could I tell her that, uncle, and yet call myself a man?"
"No!" reared the old admiral, in a voice that made the room echo again; "and I tell you what, if you had done so, d -- n you, you puppy, I'd have braced you, and -- and married the girl myself. I would, d -- -e, but I would."
"Dear uncle!"
"Don't dear me, sir. Talk of deserting a girl when the signal of distress, in the shape of a tear, is in her eye?"
"But I -- "
"You are a wretch -- a confounded lubberly boy -- a swab -- a d -- -- d bad grampus."
"You mistake, uncle."
"No, I don't. God bless you, Charles, you shall have her -- if a whole ship's crew of vampyres said no, you shall have her. Let me see her -- just let me see her."
The admiral gave his lips a vigorous wipe with his sleeve, and Charles said hastily, --
"My dear uncle, you will recollect that Miss Bannerworth is quite a young lady."
"I suppose she is."
"Well, then, for God's sake, don't attempt to kiss her."
"Not kiss her! d -- -e, they like it. Not kiss her, because she's a young lady! D -- -e, do you think I'd kiss a corporal of marines?"
"No, uncle; but you know young ladies are very delicate."
"And ain't I delicate -- shiver my timbers, ain't I delicate? Where is she? that's what I want to know."
"Then you approve of what I have done?"
"You are a young scamp, but you have got some of the old admiral's family blood in you, so don't take any credit for acting like an honest man -- you couldn't help it."
"But if I had not so acted, " said Charles, with a smile, "what would have become of the family blood, then?"
"What's that to you? I would have disowned you, because that very thing would have convinced me you were an impostor, and did not belong to the family at all."
"Well, that would have been one way of getting over the difficulty."
"No difficulty at all. The man who deserts the good ship that carries him through the waves, or the girl that trusts her heart to him, ought to be chopped up into meat for wild monkeys."
"Well, I think so too."
"Of course you do."
"Why, of course?"
"Because it's so d -- -- d reasonable that, being a nephew of mine, you can't possibly help it."
"Bravo, uncle! I had no idea you were so argumentative."
"Hadn't you a spooney; you'd be an ornament to the gun-room, you would; but where's the 'young lady' who is so infernal delicate -- where is she, I say?"
"I will fetch her, uncle."
"Ah, do; I'll be bound, now, she's one of the right build -- a good figure-head, and don't make too much stern-way."
"Well, well, whatever you do, now don't pay her any compliments, for your efforts in that line are of such a very doubtful order, that I shall dread to hear you."
"You be off, and mind your own business; I haven't been at sea forty years without picking up some out-and-out delicate compliments to say to a young lady."
"But do you really imagine, now, that the deck of a man-of-war is a nice place to pick up courtly compliments in?"
"Of course I do. There you hear the best of language, d -- -e! You don't know what you are talking about, you fellows that have stuck on shore all your lives; it's we seamen who learn life."
"Well, well -- hark!"
"What's that?"
"A cry -- did you not hear a cry?"
"A signal of distress, by G-d!"
In their efforts to leave the room, the uncle and nephew for about a minute actually blocked up the door-way, but the superior bulk of the admiral prevailed, and after nearly squeezing poor Charles flat, he got out first.
But this did not avail him, for he knew not where to go. Now, the second scream which Flora had uttered when the vampyre had clasped her waist came upon their ears, and, as they were outside the room, it acted well as a guide in which direction to come.
Charles fancied correctly enough at once that it proceeded from the room which was called "Flora's own room," and thither-ward accordingly he dashed at tremendous speed.
Henry, however, happened to be nearer at hand, and, moreover, he did not hesitate a moment, because he knew that Flora was in her own room; so he reached it first, and Charles saw him rush in a few moments before he could reach the room.
The difference of time, however, was very slight, and Henry had only just raised Flora from the floor as Charles appeared.
"God of Heaven!" cried the latter, "what has happened?"
"I know not," said Henry; "as God is my judge, I know not. Flora, Flora, speak to us! Flora! Flora!"
"She has fainted!" cried Charles. "Some water may restore her. Oh, Henry, Henry, is not this horrible?"
"Courage! courage!" said Henry, although his voice betrayed what a terrible state of anxiety he was himself in; "you will find water in that decanter, Charles. Here is my mother, too! Another visit! God help us!"
Mrs. Bannerworth sat down on the edge of the sofa which was in the room, and could only wring her hands and weep.
"Avast!" cried the admiral, making his appearance. "Where's the enemy, lads?"
"Uncle," said Charles, "uncle, uncle, the vampyre has been here again -- the dreadful vampyre!"
"D -- n me, and he's gone, too, and carried half the window with him. Look there!"
It was literally true; the window, which was a long latticed one, was smashed through.
"Help! oh, help!" said Flora, as the water that was dashed in her face began to recover her.
"You are safe!" cried Henry, "you are safe!"
"Flora," said Charles; "you know my voice, dear Flora? Look up, and you will see there are none here but those who love you."
Flora opened her eyes timidly as she said, --
"Has it gone?"
"Yes, yes, dear," said Charles. "Look around you; here are none but true friends."
"And tried friends, my dear," said Admiral Bell, "excepting me; and whenever you like to try me, afloat or ashore, d -- n me, shew me Old Nick himself, and I won't shrink -- yard arm and yard arm -- grapnel to grapnel -- pitch pots and grenades!"
"This is my uncle, Flora," said Charles.
"I thank you, sir," said Flora, faintly.
"All right!" whispered the admiral to Charles; "what a figure-head to be sure! Poll at Swansea would have made just about four of her, but she wasn't so delicate, d -- n me!"
"I should think not."
"You are right for once in a way, Charley."
"What was it that alarmed you?" said Charles, tenderly, as he now took one of Flora's hands in his.
"Varney -- Varney, the vampyre."
"Varney!" exclaimed Henry; "Varney here!"
"Yes, he came in at that door; and when I screamed, I suppose -- for I hardly was conscious -- he darted out through the window."
"This," said Henry, "is beyond all human patience. By Heaven! I cannot and will not endure it."
"It shall be my quarrel," said Charles; "I shall go at once and defy him. He shall meet me."
"Oh, no, no, no," said Flora, as she clung convulsively to Charles. "No, no; there is a better way."
"What way?"
"The place has become full of terrors. Let us leave it. Let him, as he wishes, have it."
"Let him have it?"
"Yes, yes, God knows, if it purchase an immunity from these visits, we may well be overjoyed. Remember that we have ample reasons to believe him more than human. Why should you allow yourselves to risk a personal encounter with such a man, who might be glad to kill you that he might have an opportunity of replenishing his own hideous existence from your best heart's blood?"
The young men looked aghast.
"Besides," added Flora, "you cannot tell
what dreadful powers of mischief he may have, against which human courage might be of no avail."
"There is truth and reason," said Mr. Marchdale, stepping forward, "in what Flora says."
"Only let me come across him, that's all," said Admiral Bell, "and I'll soon find out what he is. I suppose he's some long slab of a lubber after all, ain't he, with no strength."
"His strength is immense," said Marchdale. "I tried to seize him, and I fell beneath his arm as if I had been struck by the hammer of a Cyclops."
"A what?" cried the admiral.
"A Cyclops."
"D -- n me, I served aboard the Cyclops eleven years, and never saw a very big hammer aboard of her."
"What on earth is to be done?" said Henry.
"Oh," chimed in the admiral, "there's always a bother about what's to be done on earth. Now, at sea, I could soon tell you what was to be done."
"We must hold a solemn consultation over this matter," said Henry. "You are safe now, Flora."
"Oh, be ruled by me. Give up the Hall."
"You tremble."
"I do tremble, brother, for what may yet ensue. I implore you to give up the Hall. It is but a terror to us now -- give it up. Have no more to do with it. Let us make terms with Sir Francis Varney. Remember, we dare not kill him."
"He ought to be smothered," said the admiral.
"It is true," remarked Henry, "we dare not, even holding all the terrible suspicions we do, take his life."
"By foul means certainly not," said Charles, "were he ten times a vampyre. I cannot, however, believe that he is so invulnerable as he is represented."
"No one represents him here," said Marchdale. "I speak, sir, because I saw you glance at me. I only know that, having made two unsuccessful attempts so to seize him, he eluded me, once by leaving in my grasp a piece of his coat, and the next time he struck me down, and I feel yet the effects of the terrific blow."
"You hear?" said Flora.
"Yes, I hear," said Charles.
"For some reason," added Marchdale, in a tone of emotion, "what I say seems to fall always badly upon Mr. Holland's ear. I know not why; but if it will give him any satisfaction, I will leave Bannerworth Hall to-night."
"No, no, no," said Henry; "for the love of Heaven, do not let us quarrel."
"Hear, hear," cried the admiral. "We can never fight the enemy well if the ship's crew are on bad terms. Come now, you Charles, this appears to be an honest, gentlemanly fellow -- give him your hand."
"If Mr. Charles Holland," said Marchdale, "knows aught to my prejudice in any way, however slight, I here beg of him to declare it at once, and openly."
"I cannot assert that I do," said Charles.
"Then what the deuce do you make yourself so disagreeable for, eh?" cried the admiral.
"One cannot help one's impression and feelings," said Charles; "but I am willing to take Mr. Marchdale's hand."
"And I yours, young sir," said Marchdale, "in all sincerity of spirit, and with good will towards you."
They shook hands; but it required no conjuror to perceive that it was not done willingly or cordially. It was a hand-shaking of that character which seemed to imply on each side, "I don't like you, but I don't know positively any harm of you."
"There now," said the admiral, "that's better."
"Now, let us hold counsel about this Varney," said Henry. "Come to the parlour all of you, and we will endeavor to come to some decided arrangement."
"Do not weep, mother," said Flora. "All may yet be well. We will leave this place."
"We will consider that question, Flora," said Henry; "and believe me your wishes will go a long way with all of us, as you may well suppose they always would."
They left Mrs. Bannerworth with Flora, and proceeded to the small oaken parlour, in which were the elaborate and beautiful carvings which have been before mentioned.
Henry's countenance, perhaps, wore the most determined expression of all. He appeared now as if he had thoroughly made up his mind to do something which should have a decided tendency to put a stop to the terrible scenes which were now day by day taking place beneath that roof.
Charles Holland looked serious and thoughtful, as if he were revolving some course of action in his mind concerning which he was not quite clear.
Mr. Marchdale was more sad and depressed, to all appearance, than any of them.
As for the admiral, he was evidently in a state of amazement, and knew not what to think. He was anxious to do something, and yet what that was to be he had not the most remote idea, any more than as if he was not at all cognisant of any of those circumstances, every one of which was so completely out of the line of his former life and experience.
George had gone to call on Mr. Chillingworth, so he was not present at the first part of this serious council of war.
--
May I just add that the editing of these two latest chapters were completed under the background noise of Reggie’s distant screams and protests. If I had not initiated the undertakings, I would have sworn Thackeray was flaying him alive.
As I finished my copies of the chapters, she presented him at the dining room door.
In his new clothes the young man looked at least two years older.
“You’ve cut his hair too.” I noticed.
“I had to,” she slapped his new cap on top of his shorn locks. “I couldn’t get a comb through it to begin with.”
“You look very much better, young man.” I hoped I’d said the correct thing, I could remember how awkward I had felt at his age.
Riding Lessons at Euston
A single enquiry found stables near Euston Station, on Chalton Street, less than a mile from the Burton Street home and office. This would enable us to reach our horses quicker, and get on our way unimpeded by any delays at Thames bridges.
Having previously confirmed that we could ‘rent’ horses for a weekend, I cut to my main purpose. Whilst being brothers was obviously out due to our differing accents, I introduced Reggie to the head stableman as my step-brother. “He needs to learn to ride, and quickly.”
“Hmm…” he pulled Reggie arms one way then the other. “He seems to have a strength to him.”
So, while Reggie was instructed daily at the stables, I tried to work on Burke and Hare, but the words would not come. Reynold’s manuscript arrived on Wednesday morning, and I set to it right away.
A huge section, which I guessed, his publisher must set to two pages, over 7000 words, although I did see that perhaps I had been given two episodes as one; so much for having a week off. I could not fail to parallel the real Count Varanelli in Chessington with the Count in Reynold’s story, finding Reynold’s version far paler by comparison.
CHAPTER 48
MR. GREENWOOD'S VISITORS
MR. Greenwood was seated in his study the morning after the event which occupied the last chapter.
He was dressed en negligé.
A French velvet skull-cap, embroidered with gold, sate upon his curled and perfumed hair: a sumptuous brocade silk dressing-gown was confined around the waist by a gold cord with large tassels hanging almost to his feet: his shirt collar was turned down over a plain broad black riband, the bow of which was fastened with a diamond broach of immense value; and on his fingers were costly rings, sparkling with stones of corresponding kind and worth.
On the writing-table an elegant French watch attached to a long gold chain, lay amidst a pile of letters, just as if it had been carelessly tossed there. A cheque, partly filled up for a thousand guineas,—several bank-notes, and some loose gold, were lying on an open writing-desk; and, at one end of the table lay, in seeming confusion, a number of visiting cards bearing the names of eminent capitalists, wealthy merchants, peers, and members of Parliament.
All this pell-mell assemblage of proofs of wealth and tokens of high acquaintance, was only apparent—and not real. It was a portion of Mr. Greenwood's system—one of the principles of the art which he practised in deceiving the world.
He knew none of the capitalists, and few of the aristocrats whose cards lay upon his table: and his own hand had arranged the manner in which the watch, the cheque-book, and the money were tossing about. Never did a coquet practise a particular glance, attitude, or mannerism, more seriously than did Mr. Greenwood these little artifices which, however trifling they may appear, produced an immense effect upon those with whom he had to deal, and who visited him in that study.
Every thing he did was the result of a calculation, and had an aim: every word he spoke, however rapid the utterance, was duly weighed and measured.
And yet at this time the man who thus carried his knowledge of human nature even to the most ridiculous niceties, was only in his twenty-eighth year. How perverted were great talents—how misapplied an extraordinary quickness of apprehension in this instance!
Mr. Greenwood contemplated the arrangements of his writing-table with calm satisfaction; and a smile of triumph curled his lip as he thought of the position to which such little artifices as those had helped to raise him. He despised the world: he laughed at society; and he cared not for the law—for he walked boldly up to the extreme verge where personal security ceased and peril began; but he never over-stepped the boundary. He had plundered many—he had enriched himself with the wealth of others—he had built his own fortunes upon the ruins of his fellow men's hopes and prospects: but still he had so contrived all his schemes that the law could never reach him, and if one of his victims accused him of villany he had a plausible explanation to offer for his conduct.
If a person said to him, "Your schemes have involved me in utter ruin, and deprived me of every penny I possessed,"—he would unblushingly reply, "What does the man mean? He forgets that I suffered far more than he did; and that where he lost hundreds I lost thousands! It is impossible to control speculations: some turn up well, some badly; and this man might as well blame the keeper of a lottery-office because his ticket did not turn up a prize, as attempt to throw any odium upon me!"
And this language would prove satisfactory and seem straight-forward to all by-standers, save the poor victim himself, who nevertheless would be struck dumb by the other's assurance.
