The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  “Oh, yes; we are quite aware of it,” Lady Starkey hastened to say, in a haughty and somewhat insolent tone. “Had we been aware of your intended return we should not have come here at all.”

  “Extremely unlikely, I think,” said Lady Talmash. “I consider we have been very much affronted.”

  Mildred took no notice of this rudeness, but Stanley looked excessively angry, and Mr. Warburton got very red in the face.

  “I am very sorry you were invited,” he said.

  “I think we might have been allowed to depart without annoyance or insult,” said Lady Talmash, haughtily.

  “Neither annoyance nor insult have at any time been offered to your ladyship,” said the Squire, “and I cannot allow such an imputation to be made.”

  “I, too, must contradict it,” said Stanley. “Your ladyship has always been treated with the utmost respect while you have stayed at Beaucliffe. That I affirm.”

  “Pray let me retire, dear Stanley,” implored Mildred. “This scene is too much for me. I did not expect it or I would not have come.”

  “You might have expected it,” said Lady Starkey. “But Stanley is chiefly to blame.”

  “In what way am I to blame?” he rejoined. “I have acted like a man of honour. I have been greatly affronted, but have exacted reparation and punished the offender with death. My wife, I admit, has been indiscreet — very indiscreet — her conduct has been misconstrued, and she has been blamed far too severely. I now proclaim her innocence to you, who have constituted yourselves her judges. She is innocent of all, save folly.”

  “That I emphatically declare,” said Sister Aline, coming forward, “and I have had the very best opportunity of arriving at the truth. I have listened to a dying man’s confession. That man was Darcy himself. With his latest breath he exonerated Mildred.”

  “If this testimony does not satisfy you, nothing will,” said Mr. Warburton.

  “It matters not to me what others think, so long as I, myself, am satisfied,” said Stanley.

  “Oh, thank you! thank you for that declaration,” exclaimed Mildred.

  And uttering a cry, she fell senseless in his arms.

  “You have killed her,” he said, looking sternly and reproachfully at the two ladies, as he bore her to a couch, followed by Sister Aline and Rose.

  “I’m afraid we have gone rather too far,” said Lady Starkey.

  “It almost seems so,” said Lady Talmash. “I did not believe she was so ill.”

  “I did not believe your ladyship had so little feeling,” remarked Mr. Warburton, who overheard what was said.

  “Can I be of any service to your daughter, sir?” said Lady Starkey to him.

  “Not in the least,” he replied, angrily. “You are more likely to do her harm than good. I beg you won’t go near her — nor you,” he added to Lady Talmash.

  “I really am excessively sorry for what has occurred,” said the latter lady.

  “Your ladyship can’t expect me to believe you,” he rejoined. “If anything happens, I shall attribute it entirely to you and Lady Starkey.”

  Fortunately, Sister Aline always carried restoratives about her, and before this a few drops of spirit had been administered to Mildred and produced a beneficial effect.

  “Pray allow me to remain here till your daughter recovers, Mr. Warburton,” said Lady Starkey. “I will then relieve you of my presence.”

  “I must beg a like favour of you, sir,” added Lady Talmash. —

  “Stay as long as you like, ladies,” replied the easily mollified old gentleman, moving towards his daughter, who had now completely regained consciousness.

  “Are they gone?” she asked, as he came up.

  “Who, my love?” he inquired.

  “Lady Starkey and Lady Talmash.”

  “No, my darling,” he rejoined. “They are still here.”

  “Then beg them to come to me for a moment!” she said.

  “Better not,” he rejoined.

  But, moved by her looks, he consented and went to them.

  “My daughter would fain say a word to you before you go. If you grant her request, I must beg that you will not excite her.”

  Contrary to his anticipations, they both instantly went back with him. Sister Aline, Mrs. Brereton and the others, standing near the sofa, drew back as they came up.

  Mildred regarded them very affectionately, and they were evidently much touched by her looks, and reproached themselves for their conduct.

  “We are so very glad you have recovered, dearest Mildred,” said Lady Talmash, taking her hand. “If anything had happened to you I should never have forgiven myself — never!”

  “I know you are the most amiable creature breathing,” said Lady Starkey, approaching on the other side of the sofa. “Pray think no more of what has just occurred!”

  “I won’t,” replied Mildred. “But you must promise not to leave me.”

  “We will stay till you get quite well,” said Lady Starkey.

  “Even if you should be a month about it,” added Lady Talmash.

  “Don’t be afraid! I shall get well directly now,” said Mildred, with the sweetest smile imaginable.

  “I am so glad your ladyship has come round to my opinion,” said Mrs. Brereton, drawing near Lady Starkey.

  Everybody now seemed to think the two ladies had completely made amends for their previous rudeness. Even Stanley’s anger had abated.

  After a little quiet conversation with them, Mildred retired to her own room attended by Stanley and Sister Aline.

  Before withdrawing she said to Rose —

  “If I don’t come down to-morrow, you must come up to me. I should like to have a little talk with you.”

  “You will be sure to see me,” replied the other, highly pleased by the invitation.

  “All has ended very much better than I expected at one time,” said Lady Starkey, “I was touched to the heart by Mildred’s looks.”

  “She looked like an angel,” added Lady Talmash, “I don’t believe any ill of her.”

  “Every possible care must be taken of her,” said Rose. “I’m sure she is exceedingly delicate.”

  “I almost fear she is in a consumption,” said Lady Starkey.

  “She ought to spend next winter in the south of France,” said Lady Talmash.

  CHAPTER XVII.

  SUPPER IN THE SERVANTS’ HALL.

  “I am glad that those two important dames didn’t take their departure,” said Mildred, as she entered her own room with her companions. “A quarrel with them just now would have troubled me very much.”

  “I confess I should be glad to get rid of them,” said Stanley. “They have fixed themselves here and mean to stay.”

  “But they are agreeable guests,” said Mildred.

  “Agreeable when they have it all their way. But not when their plans are thwarted, as has just been shown.”

  “I think them designing and somewhat malicious,” remarked Sister Aline.

  “And you judge them rightly,” said Stanley. “They are designing. Lady Starkey fancied at one time that she should gain Mr. Warburton’s hand. But they are both disappointed since Mildred’s return. That is the real cause of their vexation.”

  “So I should suppose,” said Sister Aline. “But will Mr. Warburton marry again, do you think?”

  “Certainly not now, since Mildred has come back,” replied Stanley. “What he might have done, had she left us altogether, I cannot say.”

  “No, no, I’m quite sure papa won’t marry again,” said Mildred. “Those two ladies would never have been established here, had I been at home. But they have completely failed. Rose Hylton, I think, is a very nice, amiable girl.”

  “So she is,” said Stanley. “My mother likes her extremely.”

  Just then, Georgette’s voice was heard at the door, and Sister Aline bade her come in.

  On entering, she said she had been invited to supper that evening in the servants’ hall, and asked if she mig
ht accept the invitation.

  Her mistress replied in the affirmative, but said she must return to her own room before ten.

  “That will be quite late enough for me,” said Georgette, and she withdrew.

  “Who is that pretty Stet?” inquired Stanley.

  “She was formerly my attendant,” replied Sister Aline. “I brought her with me from Dieppe. She witnessed your duel with Darcy. She has been very useful, and I shall take her back with me when I return.”

  “No, you must leave her with me,” said Mildred. “I have become very fond of her and should be quite grieved to part with her.”

  “Well, she shall remain with you, if you wish it,” replied the Sister.

  Georgette’s good looks, liveliness and pretty figure, set off by a very becoming costume, caused quite a sensation among the men-servants at Beaucliffe, who were all charmed with her. Mr. Glossop, the portly butler, who placed her between himself and Dominique, the French cook, at supper, declared she was better looking than any lady in the house; and the two valets, Robert and Charles, agreed with him in opinion. Buckland, the coachman and Warton, the groom, regarded her with admiration, as did the chef, who was fortunate enough to have her near him.

  As may be supposed, the many lady’s maids, housemaids and other female servants, assembled in the hall, did not admire her so much as the men, but even they were compelled to admit that she was extremely captivating.

  Though she didn’t speak English very fluently, she managed to make herself understood, as much by her eyes and gestures as by her words, and Dominique acted as her interpreter.

  Besides which, the attentive chef took care to help her to all the best dishes, so that she did very well — especially as Glossop had provided a bottle of Clicquot for his particular friends.

  Animated by a couple of glasses of this inspiriting wine, which often unlocks the secrets of the heart, Georgette questioned Dominique as to what had recently occurred at the hall, and learnt from him the full particulars of Madame Stanley Brereton’s elopement with le Capitaine Darcy. “It is the custom, among the family, to regard it as a mere innocent caprice, une houtaded taquiner son man, but I confess I cannot look upon it so lightly.”

  “Then you don’t understand our sex, Maitre Dominique,” returned Georgette. “I saw the duel between the husband and the betrayer at Dieppe, and a most terrible affair it was. I know le galant capitaine proclaimed Madame’s entire innocence, avec sa derniere parole. What could he do more?”

  “Not much, certainly,” replied Dominique. “But under such circumstances he ought never to have gone away with her. Besides, he came secretly to the Hall, since her return, to carry her off again.”

  “All that has been explained,” cried Georgette. “No insinuation shall prejudice me against her. I think her just like a sainted “What saint are you talking about?” inquired Glossop.

  “Saint Mildred,” replied Dominique.

  “Madame Stanley Brereton,” explained Georgette. “I adore her. She is so beautiful — so good.”

  “She is all you describe,” rejoined the butler. “But I’m sadly afraid she wont live long.”

  “Oh, don’t frighten me!” exclaimed Georgette. “I shall die myself if she dies.”

  “No, don’t do that,” said Glossop. “Those ladies have behaved to her in a most unfeeling manner.”

  “Honteusement!” cried Georgette. “But all is now arranged to their satisfaction — so they wont interfere any more.”

  “I hope not, but don’t feel sure,” rejoined Glossop. The evening was finished by a rubber at whist, played in a small room near the butler’s pantry, between Glossop himself and Georgette, against Dominique and Lady Starkey’s lady’s maid.

  Glossop played a very good game and was tolerably well satisfied with his partner.

  “It never can happen,” he said, “but I should amazingly like to play a rubber with the Squire. I think he would be satisfied with me.”

  “No doubt, he would,” said Dominique. Then addressing himself to Georgette, he added, “You must take care not to say anything about cards, Mamzelle, when you go upstairs.”

  “Are cards interdicted?” she inquired.

  “Rigorously,” he replied.

  “But we are not playing for money,” she said.

  “Pardon, Mamzelle,” he rejoined with a significant smile, “Maitre Glossop and I have some slight stakes. I already owe him twenty shillings.”

  “Mon Dieu!” she exclaimed. “Vous ites grands joueurs!”

  “This is nothing to what we sometimes do at Ecarté.” said Glossop, laughing. “Shall we have another game and change partners?”

  “Oh! non! non!” cried Georgette, intimating by her gestures, that she could not stay a moment longer.

  “You must promise to sup with us again soon,” said Dominique, catching her hand and pressing it to his lips.

  Glossop would have snatched the other hand, but; she broke away from them, and next moment was skipping upstairs towards Sister Aline’s room.

  “Well, Georgette,” said her mistress, “I hope you have had a pleasant evening.”

  “Charming, Madame, charming!” she replied. “I have another invitation and hope you will permit me to accept it.”

  “I will consider to-morrow. Are you aware you are half-an-hour late?”

  “Is it possible, Madame? I did not think so. But time flies swiftly, when one is amused. Pray forgive me!”

  “Well, go to the next room and see whether Madame Stanley Brereton wants you.”

  Georgette readily obeyed, and Mildred, who had already sought her couch, bade her sit down beside her.

  “I want to ask you a question, Georgette? Shall you be content to remain with me when Sister Aline returns to Dieppe?”

  “More than content, Madame. I shall be delighted. I hope you will always keep me with you. I will always serve you faithfully and well.”

  “I have no doubt of it,” rejoined Mildred. “I have a foreboding that I shall not live long.”

  “Madame must not despair. I confidently believe she will recover.”

  “No, Georgette; there is no chance of that. But with care, I may last a few months longer. You must give me that care.”

  “Rest assured, I will, Madame,” said Georgette, earnestly, almost solemnly, “I will devote myself to you.”

  “Then there is no knowing what good results may follow,” said Mildred.

  “It may be a satisfaction to Madame to learn how attached to her are the other servants. I had an opportunity of proving it this evening.”

  “I’m very glad to hear it, Georgette. And now I will wish you ‘good night.’ Recollect that henceforward you belong to me.”

  “I shall not forget it,” she replied.

  And kissing the hand of her new mistress, she withdrew.

  Mildred slept more tranquilly that night than she had done for some time.

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  AN ACCIDENT ON THE MERE.

  THE peaceful slumber Mildred had enjoyed was of so much service to her, that Georgette, entering her room next morning, noticed an improvement in her looks and declared, if Madame would only go on in this way for a month, no fears need be entertained about her.

  “I certainly feel better, to-day,” said Mildred, “and if the weather continues fine I shall walk out into the garden. You must accompany me, Georgette.”

  “I shall be delighted, Madame,” replied the attendant.

  “Perhaps, I may be able to reach the Mere!”

  “What is that, Madame?”

  “The lake at the bottom of the garden.”

  “Oh, I have always admired it so much. I think it so beautiful.”

  “So it is,” replied Mildred. “I once used to be very fond of rowing upon it; but I have given that up lately, as I have horse exercise.”

  “Yes, I have always understood Madame used to be a famous equestrian.”

  Mildred smiled.

  “I had far more enjoyment in
riding to hounds than in any other sport,” she said.

  “Then why give it up?” cried Georgette, “I have not strength for it now,” she replied, rather sadly.

  “But Madame’s strength will return.”

  “I hope it may, but I have great doubts.”

  “Madame must go and visit the stables. I understand none of her favourite hunters have been sold.”

  “Though I once was passionately fond of them, I have never inquired about them since my return. But I shouldn’t wonder if it is so. Papa was always so kind. But dear Sister Aline would be dreadfully shocked if I should begin to hunt again. She would think the chase wholly inconsistent with my professions. And so it would be.”

  “But Madame might go out occasionally merely for the benefit of her health.”

  “No, it would lead to other things. I must resist temptation. I have become a penitent and must act consistently with that character.”

  “You are quite right,” said Sister Aline, who had entered the room unperceived and overheard the discourse. “I, myself, see no harm in hunting, quietly conducted; but there are certain dangers connected with it, on which I need not dwell, and I think you had better avoid all temptation. I only hope you are not miscalculating your strength.”

  “Yes, I must be a very different person from that I now am, if I am ever able to enter the hunting field again. I often wonder at myself when I think of what I have done.”

  “I know you were considered the boldest and best female equestrian in Cheshire at one time,” said Sister Aline, “and so much was said in your praise; that no wonder your head was a little turned.”

  “I was very vain in those days,” said Mildred.

  “And not without reason,” murmured Georgette. “Shall I serve breakfast?” she added aloud.

  “Yes, in the next room,” replied Mildred.

  “Can I do anything more for Madame before I go?”

  “No; we will come to you in half-an-hour,” said Sister Aline. “Have all ready for us.”

  Georgette disappeared, and at the appointed time the others joined her.

  A very simple meal, consisting of two basins of new milk and slices of bread, without butter or any other addition, awaited them.