The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  Vexed by this disagreeable intelligence, Stanley made a very poor breakfast, nor could he even read the Times.

  So he sat down at a side table and wrote a letter to his mother, telling her how much he had been pleased by his visit to Lady Starkey, and making some slight mention of Rose Hylton, whom he described as a very nice girl.

  “As to Mildred’s dislike of the old house, it is quite immaterial,” he said. “I don’t think she will ever be asked to reside there.”

  Having finished his letter and left it to be posted, he went out and strolled into the park.

  The fine weather had brought out a number of equestrians. Amongst these the majority were young ladies with their attendants. There were likewise a few carriages.

  Having heard Rose say that she and her aunt drove out early, Stanley looked out for them, and ere long discovered her ladyship’s brougham.

  Both ladies were inside it, and perceiving him at the same time, they stopped the carriage, and Stanley went up to them immediately.

  “I fancied we should meet you in the Park this morning, Mr. Brereton,” said Rose. “What a delightful day for a drive or a walk!”

  “Charming,” he replied. “Your ladyship is quite right to take advantage of it.”

  “I always come here early, if the day is fine,” she replied. “I don’t care for a crowd of fashionable folks, and prefer the Park as it is at present.”

  “Have you been long here, Mr. Brereton,” asked Rose.

  “No, I have only just come out,” he replied. “I have been writing to my mother, and have received a letter from her, in which she speaks of your ladyship in terms that I think will please you.”

  “I should much like to hear what she says,” observed Lady Starkey.

  “There is the letter,” replied Stanley, taking it from his pocket, and giving it her.

  Opening it and glancing at its contents, she seemed deeply moved.

  “Will you leave this letter with me for a short time?” she remarked to Stanley. “I should like to read it again when alone. I need not say how much gratified I am by your mother’s good opinion.”

  “Take it by all means,” replied Stanley. “You can place entire faith in my mother’s sincerity.”

  “I know I can,” replied Lady Starkey. “Pray tell the coachman to drive home. We shall see you anon.” Having done her ladyship’s behest, Stanley bowed and withdrew.

  CHAPTER XVI.

  A GHOST STORY.

  “I am very glad we happened to meet with Mr. Brereton, aunt,” said Rose. “His mother’s letter seems to have pleased you.”

  “It has pleased me exceedingly,” replied her aunt. “She has spoken of me in most gratifying terms, such as I had no reason to expect from her, for there has been a kind of estrangement between us. But I am truly glad it is at an end.”

  “Does her son resemble his mother, aunt?” inquired Rose.

  “Very strongly,” replied Lady Starkey.

  “Then she must be extremely handsome,” said Rose, “I should like to see her.”

  “I hope you will see her soon,” rejoined Lady Starkey.

  Rose looked at her for some explanation, but received none.

  On arriving at the house in Berkeley Square, Lady Starkey’s first business was to seek a private interview with her confidential servant, Mrs. Thomson, whom she found in her own room.

  Mrs. Thomson was about forty, had a very pleasing expression of countenance, and was remarkably neat in her attire.

  She was engaged on some needlework when her ladyship entered, but immediately laid it down and arose.

  “I want your advice, Thomson,” said Lady Starkey. “But, first of all, I must read you this letter. It is from Mrs. Brereton to her son.”

  Mrs. Thomson listened to the letter and expressed her approval of it “I feel certain she is sincere,” she said. “What she says of your ladyship is quite true, and very gratifying.”

  “I mean to ask her to stay with me a short time, Thomson. Do you think she will come?”

  “Whether she comes or not, my lady, she cannot fail to be pleased by the invitation.”

  “I should like her to meet my niece,” said Lady Starkey, after a moment’s hesitation. “I believe Miss Rose would produce a favourable impression upon her.”

  “No doubt of it,” replied Mrs. Thomson, who now began to comprehend her ladyship’s scheme. “Miss Rose is very amiable and engaging.”

  “Then Mrs. Brereton shall be asked at once,” said her ladyship. “I must tell you there is something more in this letter, which seems to intimate that a quarrel has taken place between Stanley and a young lady whom, I fancy, he admires.”

  “So much the better,” observed Mrs. Thomson. “Now is the time to supplant her.”

  “Since the plan meets your approval, Thomson, I’ll set about it at once.”

  And proceeding to her boudoir, she wrote a very kind letter inviting Mrs. Brereton to come and spend a month with her.

  “You shall be as quiet as you please,” she said.

  “I have only my niece, Rose Hylton, staying with me, a very nice amiable girl, with whom I feel certain you will be pleased. Before concluding, let me again thank you for the kind manner in which you have spoken of me to your son.”

  Just as she had finished her letter, Rose came into the room, and called out, “I am sure you have been writing to Mrs. Brereton, aunt.”

  “I have asked her to spend a month with me,” was the reply.

  “Oh! I’m so glad,” cried Rose. “But do you think she’ll come?”

  “I hope so,” replied Lady Starkey. “But Stanley will be better able than I am to answer that question.” Shortly afterwards, the young man himself made his appearance, and expressed a decided opinion that his mother would be delighted to accept the invitation.

  “Then I will prepare for her,” said Lady Starkey, “Here is your letter. By-the-bye, I gather from the postscript — at which, perhaps, I ought not to have looked — that you are about to make some alterations in your old house.”

  “I intend to restore it,” replied Stanley. “But I shall postpone my design for the present.”

  “When you do restore the old place, I hope you will preserve its original character.”

  “Such is my intention,” said Stanley. “But Miss Warburton, who has called there since my departure, does not think it can ever be made fit to live in.”

  “Her tastes must differ materially from mine,” said Rose. “From what I have heard of it, Brereton must be a very picturesque old place.”

  “So it is,” replied Stanley. “I should like to show it you.”

  “We must run down and have a look at it, after your mother’s visit,” said Lady Starkey.

  “I shall hold you to your promise, and I engage to adopt any suggestions you might offer.”

  “That’s very rash,” rejoined Rose. “We may recommend you to alter the dining-room, to enlarge the drawing-room, to build a new gallery, and a new staircase.”

  “No, I’m safe there,” he replied. “Those are the best parts of the house, and only want restoring.”

  “Haven’t you a haunted chamber?” asked Rose. “Brereton wouldn’t be perfect without one.”

  “We are already provided with a ghost,” said Stanley. “But the haunted room is now shut up, and the ghost never leaves it.”

  “Have you ever slept in the room?” inquired Lady Starkey.

  “Not very lately,” replied Stanley. “But I have occupied the large, antique, four-post bed that forms part of the original furniture of the apartment. What is more, I have seen the ghost.”

  “Oh! do tell us all about it,” cried Rose.

  “Before I begin,” replied Stanley, “you ought to know that the perturbed spirit is that of the beautiful Dame Dorothy Massey, whose charms gave her a host of admirers in the days of James the First. Her husband, Sir Hubert, was very jealous, and is thought to have poisoned her. For my own part, though I had often heard of the appa
rition, I didn’t believe in it — but, strange to say, I had never tested the truth of the story.

  “One night, however, the large old bed was prepared for me, and I took possession of it.

  “Not feeling any alarm, I soon fell asleep, but was awakened about an hour after midnight, as I conjectured, by some sound in the room.

  “On opening my eyes, I was surprised to perceive a light, and when I raised myself to see what caused it, I beheld a female figure standing near the foot of the bed.

  “I knew it must be the lovely Dorothy, for we have a portrait of her in the dining-room, and the features, figure and dress, so far as I could judge, seemed precisely similar.

  “The curtains of the bed were drawn back, and the phantom appeared to gaze at me steadfastly.

  “I tried to address it, but could not utter a word. After awhile it vanished, and the light died away at the same time.

  “I remained quiet till morning, and have since thought that the vision might be a dream.”

  “Now you have spoiled your ghost story,” cried Rose. “If it was nothing but a dream, I don’t care for it. But we must see the haunted room, if we go to Brereton.”

  “So you shall,” replied Stanley. “It is now shut up, as I have told you; but I will have it opened. Several persons have seen Dame Dorothy’s ghost — amongst others, our old man-servant, Minshull, who, according to his own statement, spoke to it, but got no response.”

  Just then, Sir John Lambert was ushered in, and the footman said that luncheon was served; whereupon, Sir John gave his arm to her ladyship, and “Stanley took charge of Rose.

  CHAPTER XVII.

  AN UNEXPECTED MEETING IN ST. JAMES’S PARK.

  AT luncheon, Sir John Lambert remarked that a great improvement had taken place in her ladyship’s spirits.

  It was quite evident that she took a strong interest in the two young people, and it struck Sir John forcibly that she wished to make up a match between them. He was not surprised at this, since Stanley was now very well off; and though Rose had nothing to speak of — her father being a man of very moderate property, who lived upon a small estate in Sussex — he knew that her aunt had just settled £2,000 upon her — the exact sum, in fact, paid to her ladyship by Sir Thomas, just before his unfortunate death.

  Of course, Sir John was informed that an invitation was about to be sent to Mrs. Brereton, and it was hoped she would accept it, but this only confirmed his views. He, therefore, lent all the assistance he could to the plan, and persuaded himself he was of considerable service. Lady Starkey thought so too, and encouraged him by her looks.

  Thus all seemed to go well for the scheme.

  And here it may be asked whether Stanley had really transferred his affections from Mildred to Rose. Only a few days ago he seemed passionately enamoured of the former, and believed that his happiness entirely depended upon her. Now, he had altered his mind. And just when he had resolved to forget her he had come across Rose, who seemed exactly calculated to fill her place. Rose was quite as good-looking as Mildred, and almost as attractive, while she was entirely free from the faults of the more dazzling beauty.

  Stanley was very anxious that his mother should see Rose, feeling almost certain she would prefer her to Mildred, to whom he knew she had many objections, and seriously doubted whether she would suit him.

  Despite all his efforts, however, he could not entirely banish Mildred’s image from his breast. She had completely fascinated him, and he was not, as yet, freed from the spell.

  As to Rose herself, there was no doubt she was greatly interested in her admirer, and had half lost her heart to him. She thought him exceedingly handsome, and very agreeable. Moreover, the encouragement given her by her aunt had fanned the rising flame, and raised hopes in her bosom, which might not otherwise have been indulged.

  Hence, owing to the combined efforts of her ladyship and Sir John, affairs made rapid progress, and Stanley began to feel that he must pause, unless he meant decidedly to commit himself.

  After luncheon, the party repaired to the drawingroom, where the same sort of talk went on for some time longer, when the gentlemen took leave, though not before Stanley had invited the ladies and Sir John to dine with him next day, at the Star and Garter, Richmond.

  On quitting Berkeley Square, Stanley and the old baronet walked down Regent-street to St. James’s Park, the chief subject of their discourse being Rose, concerning whom Sir John expressed himself in rapturous terms, declaring she was the nicest girl he knew.

  “So I think — with one exception,” replied Stanley.

  “And pray who is the exception!” inquired Sir John.

  “Mildred Warburton, only daughter — only child, in fact — of Squire Warburton, as we call him, of Beaucliffe House, Cheshire.”

  “I know the old Squire, and a capital fellow he is,” cried Sir John. “He has often asked me to come and see him at Beaucliffe, but I have never been there. And so his daughter is very handsome — eh?”

  “Remarkably so,” replied Stanley. “She is considered the chief beauty in Cheshire, where there are plenty of handsome girls. But, good heavens! — what do I behold? Did I not think it quite impossible, I should say that yonder are the Squire and Mildred, with their friend Lady Talmash, coming towards us.”

  “You are quite right,” replied Sir John. “I know Mr. Warburton and Lady Talmash, and there they both are; and, of course, the pretty girl with them is the Squire’s daughter.”

  Stanley replied in the affirmative, adding that he fancied they were all in Cheshire, and could not understand how they came to be in St. James’s Park.

  Presently the others came up, and exclamations of surprise were uttered.

  “How strange we should meet you thus!” cried the Squire. “Why, we are only just arrived in town, find here we find you the very first thing!”

  “It is purely accidental that I happened to be here,” replied Stanley.

  “At all events it’s very lucky. I’m right glad to have stumbled upon you. But is not this my old friend, Sir John Lambert?”

  “You are right, Mr. Warburton,” replied the other, “and delighted I am to see you.”

  Sir John then addressed himself to Lady Talmash, who seemed very much pleased to see him, after which the old baronet was presented by her father to Mildred, whom he could not help thinking merited the eulogium just passed upon her by Stanley.

  An explanation of the unlooked-for appearance of the Squire and the ladies was then offered.

  Mildred wanted to buy a horse, and her good-natured sire, who never refused her anything, had brought her up to town for the purpose. Lady Talmash had accompanied them at Mildred’s particular request.

  They had set out on the journey that very morning, and on arriving, about two hours previously, had put up at the Grosvenor Hotel.

  “Where are you staying, Stanley?” asked the Squire.

  “At the York Hotel, Albermarle-street,” replied the other.

  “Well, come and dine with us at the Grosvenor, if you have no better engagement. And if you will condescend to accept so short an invitation, Sir John, I shall be most happy to see you at the same time.”

  The invitation was put so agreeably, that the old baronet could not refuse it, and Stanley likewise accepted.

  After a little more talk, the party turned round and proceeded slowly along the Mall past Marlborough House towards Buckingham Palace.

  Somehow or other, Stanley found himself by the side of Mildred, while the others walked on in front. He did not seek an explanation, but could not avoid it “Do you know that I was very angry with you when you left Beaucliffe the other day,” said Mildred. “Why did you run away so suddenly — especially, when I asked you to remain? Tell me that, sir?”

  “I cannot defend my conduct,” replied Stanley. “But I thought you too exacting.”

  “I asked no more than I had a right to expect from one who professed himself devoted to me,” she rejoined. “I was very much hurt by y
our hasty departure I assure you, and haven’t quite forgiven you yet.”

  “I’m sorry for that,” replied Stanley. “But I don’t think I was much in fault.”

  “You are aware that I expect implicit obedience to my command?”

  “Yes, I know you expect it,” he replied. “But what if I don’t feel inclined to render it?”

  “Ah! did I hear aright?” she rejoined looking at him in surprise.

  “Shall I repeat what I said?” he asked.

  “No occasion to do that,” she replied, haughtily.

  “I am almost of the same opinion,” he said, “apparently, you will never be satisfied with such homage as I can tender.”

  “This is not homage, but defiance,” she cried sharply. “I begin to think you no longer love me,”

  “It would be useless to maintain the contrary, when it is clear you won’t believe me,” he rejoined, coldly.

  “Now, I am convinced you are changed,” she cried. “Don’t say another word. I won’t listen to you.”

  “As you please. But for a time, at least, let us maintain a semblance of regard.”

  “I don’t mind that. But understand that all is’ at an end between us.”

  At this moment, a very seasonable interruption was offered by Lady Talmash, who quitted the two gentlemen and joined them.

  Whether she guessed what was going on we cannot tell, but it looked very like it.

  “I hope the little misunderstanding that occurred at Beaucliffe the other day, has been quite settled?” she said, turning from one to the other.

  “Quite,” replied Stanley.

  “You don’t answer, Mildred?” she remarked.

  “I’ve nothing to say,” returned the other.

  “I’m afraid that is an answer. But do let me have the satisfaction of arranging this little quarrel, which both will regret, if it goes on. I don’t know what has occurred, but I know what trifles lovers’ quarrels generally are in the beginning, and how important they sometimes become in the end. I’m sure you like each other — love each other, I ought to say — so pray forget what has happened, and be friends.”