by Guy Boothby
CHAPTER II
Childerbridge Manor is certainly one of the finest mansions in theCounty of Midlandshire. It stands in a finely-timbered park of about twohundred acres, which rises behind the house to a considerable elevation.The building itself dates back to the reign of Good Queen Bess, and isdeclared by competent authorities to be an excellent example of thearchitecture of that period. It is large, and presents a most imposingappearance as one approaches it by the carriage drive. The interior ispicturesque in the extreme; the hall is large and square, panelled withoak, and having a massive staircase of the same wood leading from it toa music gallery above. There are other staircases in various parts ofthe building, curious corkscrew affairs, in ascending which one is incontinual danger of knocking one's head against the ceiling and corners.There are long, and somewhat dark corridors, down which it would bealmost possible to drive the proverbial coach and four, whilst there arealso numerous secret passages, and a private chapel, with stained glasswindows connected with the house by means of a short tunnel. That such amansion should be provided with a family ghost, goes without saying.Indeed, Childerbridge Manor is reputed to possess a small army of them.Elderly gentlemen who carry their heads under their arms; beautifulwomen who glide down the corridors, weeping as they go; and last but notleast, a deformity, invariably dressed in black, who is much given tositting on the foot rails of beds, and pointing, with the first fingerof his right hand, to the ceiling above. So well authenticated are thelegends of these apparitions, that it would be almost an impossibilityto induce any man, woman, or child, from the village, to enter the gatesof Childerbridge Manor after dusk. Servants who arrived were told thestories afloat concerning their new abode; and the sound of the windsighing round the house on a gusty night immediately set theirimaginations to work, with the result of their giving notice of theirintention to leave on the following morning. "They had seen the WhiteLady," they declared, had heard her pitiful death cry, and vowed thatnothing could induce them to remain in such a house twenty-four hourslonger. In fact, "As haunted as the Manor House" had become a popularexpression in the neighbourhood.
When the Standerton's reached England, they set to work to discover forthemselves a home. They explored the country from east to west, and fromnorth to south, but without success. Eventually Childerbridge Manor wasoffered them by an Agent in London, and after they had spent aconsiderable portion of their time poring over photographs of the houseand grounds, they arrived at the conclusion that they had discovered aplace likely to suit them. On a lovely day in early summer theytravelled down from London to inspect it, and were far from beingdisappointed in what they saw.
When they entered the gates the park lay before them, bathed insunlight, the rooks cawed lazily in the trees, while the deer regardedthem, from their couches in the bracken, with mild, contemplative eyes.After the scorched up plains of Australia, the picture was anexceedingly attractive one. The house itself, they could see wouldrequire a considerable outlay in repairs, but when that work wasaccomplished, it would be as perfect a residence as any that could befound. The stables were large enough to hold half a hundred horses, butfor many years had been tenanted only by rats. The same might be said ofthe buildings of the Home Farm!
"However, taking one thing with another," said Mr. Standerton, after hehad inspected everything, and arrived at a proper understanding of thepossibilities of the place, "I think it will suit us. The Society of theneighbourhood, they tell me, is good, while the hunting is undeniable.It is within easy reach of London, and all matters taken intoconsideration, I don't think we shall better it."
In this manner it was settled. A contract for repairs and decorationswas placed in the hands of a well-known Metropolitan firm, a vast amountwas spent in furnishing, and in due course Childerbridge Manor House wasonce more occupied. The County immediately came to call, invitationsrained in, and having been duly inspected and not found wanting, thenewcomers were voted a decided acquisition to the neighbourhood. WilliamStanderton's wealth soon became proverbial, and mothers, withmarriageable sons and daughters, vied with each other in theirattentions. James Standerton, as I have already said, was a presentableyoung man. His height was something over six feet, his shoulders werebroad and muscular, as became a man who had lived his life doing hardwork in the open air, his eyes were grey like his father's, and therewas the same moulding of the mouth and chin. In fact, he was anindividual with whom, one felt at first glance, it would be better to beon good terms than bad.
One evening a month or so after their arrival at the Manor House, Jimwas driving home from the railway station. He had been spending the dayin London buying polo ponies, and was anxious to get home as quickly aspossible. His horse was a magnificent animal, and spun the high dogcartalong the road at a rattling pace. When he was scarcely more than half amile from the lodge gates of his own home, he became aware of a ladywalking along the footpath in front of him. She was accompanied by amastiff puppy, who gambolled awkwardly beside her. As the dogcartapproached them the puppy dashed out into the road, directly in front ofthe fast-trotting horse. As may be imagined the result was inevitable.The dog was knocked down, and it was only by a miracle that the horsedid not go down also. The girl uttered a little scream, then the groomjumped from his seat and ran to the frightened animal's head. Jim alsodescended to ascertain the extent of injuries the horse and dog hadsustained. Fortunately the former was unhurt; not so the author of themischief, however. He had been kicked on the head, and one of hisforepaws was crushed and bleeding.
"I cannot tell you how sorry I am," said Jim, apologetically to theyoung lady, when he had carried her pet to the footpath. "I am afraid Iwas very careless."
"You must not say that," she answered. "It was not your fault at all. Ifmy silly dog had not run into the road it would not have happened. Doyou think his leg is broken?"
Jim knelt on the edge of the path beside the dog and carefully examinedhis injuries. His bush life had given him a considerable insight intothe science of surgery, and it stood him in good stead now.
"No," he said, when his examination was at an end, "his leg is notbroken, though I'm afraid it is rather badly injured."
In spite of the young lady's protests, he took his handkerchief from hispocket and bound up the injured limb. The next thing to be decided washow to get the animal home. It could not walk, and it was manifestlyimpossible that the young lady should carry him.
"Won't you let me put him in the cart and drive you both home?" Jimasked. "I should be glad to do so, if I may."
As he said this he looked more closely at the girl before him, andrealised that she was decidedly pretty.
"I am afraid there is nothing else to be done," she said, and then, asif she feared this might be considered an ungracious speech, she added:"But I fear I am putting you to a great deal of trouble, Mr.Standerton."
Jim looked at her in some surprise.
"You know my name, then?" he said.
"As you see," she answered, with a smile at his astonishment. "I calledupon your sister yesterday. My name is Decie, and I live at the DowerHouse, with my guardian, Mr. Abraham Bursfield."
"In that case, as we are neighbours," said Jim, "and I must claim aneighbour's privilege in helping you. Allow me put the dog in the cart."
So saying he picked the animal up and carried it tenderly to thedogcart, under the seat of which he placed it. He then assisted MissDecie to her seat and took his place beside her. When the groom hadseated himself at the back, they set off in the direction of the DowerHouse, a curious rambling building, situated in a remote corner ofChilderbridge Park. As they drove along they discussed theneighbourhood, the prospects of the shooting, and Jim learned, amongother things, that Miss Decie was fond of riding, but that old Mr.Bursfield would not allow her a horse, that she preferred a country lifeto that of town, and incidentally that she had been eight years underher guardian's care. Almost before they knew where they were they hadreached the cross roads that skirted the edge of the Park, and wereap
proaching the Dower House. It was a curious old building, olderperhaps than the Manor House, to which it had once belonged. In front ithad a quaint description of courtyard, surrounded by high walls coveredwith ivy. A flagged path led from the gates, which, Jim discoveredlater, had not been opened for many years, to the front door, on eitherside of which was a roughly trimmed lawn. Pulling up at the gates, theyoung man descended, and helped Miss Decie to alight.
"You must allow me to carry your dog into the house for you," he said,as he lifted the poor beast from the cart.
A postern door admitted them to the courtyard and they made their way,side by side, along the flagged path to the house. When they had rungthe bell the door was opened to them by an ancient man-servant, whoseage could scarcely have been less than four-score. He looked from hismistress to the young man, as if he were unable to comprehend thesituation.
"Isaac," said Miss Decie, "Tory has met with an accident, and Mr.Standerton has very kindly brought him home for me." Then to Jim sheadded:--"Please come in, Mr. Standerton, and let me relieve you of yourburden."
But Jim would not hear of it. Accompanied by Miss Decie he carried theanimal to the loose box in the deserted stables at the back of thehouse, where he had his quarters. This task accomplished, they returnedto the house once more.
"I believe you have not yet met my guardian, Mr. Bursfield," said MissDecie, as they passed along the oak-panelled hall. Then, as if to excusethe fact that the other had not paid the usual neighbourly call, sheadded: "He is a very old man, you know, and seldom leaves the house."
As she said this, she paused before a door, the handle of which sheturned. The room in which Jim found himself a moment later was a fineone. The walls, like the rest of the house, were panelled, but owing tothe number of books the room contained, very little of the oak wasvisible. There were books on the shelves, books on the tables, and bookson the floor. In the centre of the room stood a large writing-table, atwhich an old man was seated. He was a strange-looking individual; hisface was lined with innumerable wrinkles, his hair was snow-white anddescended to his shoulders. He wore a rusty velvet coat and a skull capof the same material.
He looked up as the pair entered, and his glance rested on Jim with somesurprise.
"Grandfather," said Miss Decie, for, as Jim afterwards discovered, sheinvariably addressed the venerable gentleman by this title, though shewas in no way related to him, "pray let me introduce you to Mr.Standerton, who has most kindly brought poor Tory home for me."
The old man extended a shrivelled hand.
"I am happy to make your acquaintance, Mr. Standerton," he said, "and Iam grateful to you for the service you have rendered Miss Decie. I mustapologise for not having paid you and your father the customary visit ofcourtesy, but, as you have perhaps heard, I am a recluse, and seldomventure from the house. I trust you like Childerbridge?"
"We are delighted with it," Jim replied. "It is a very beautiful andinteresting old house. Unfortunately, however, we have been able togather very little of its history. I have heard it said that you knowmore about it than any one in the neighbourhood."
"I do indeed," Mr. Bursfield replied. "No one knows it better than I do.Until a hundred years ago it was the home of my own family. My fathersold it, reserving only the Dower House for his own use. Since then theestate has fallen upon evil times."
He paused for a moment and sat looking into the fireplace, as if he hadforgotten his visitor's presence. Then he added as to himself:
"No one who has taken the place has prospered. There is a curse uponit."
"I sincerely hope not," Jim answered. "It would be a bad look out for usif that were so."
"I beg your pardon," the old man returned, almost hastily. "For themoment I was not thinking of what I was saying. I did not mean of coursethat the curse would affect your family. There is no sort of reason whyit should. But the series of coincidences, if by such a term we maydesignate them, have certainly been remarkable. Sir Giles Shepfieldpurchased it from my father, and was thrown from his horse, and killedat his own front door. His son Peter was found dead in his bed, some saymurdered, others that he was frightened to death by something, orsomeone, he had seen; while his second son, William, was shot in a duelin Paris, the day after the news reached him that he had come into theproperty. The Shepfields being only too anxious to dispose of it, it wassold to the newly-made Lord Childerbridge, who was eager to acquire itpossibly on account of the name. He remained two years there, but at theend of that period he also had had enough of the place, and left itquite suddenly, vowing that he would never enter its doors again. Afterthat it was occupied off and on by a variety of tenants, but for thelast five years it has been unoccupied. I hear that your father hasworked wonders with it, and that he has almost turned it into a newplace."
"He has had the work done very carefully," Jim replied. "It is verydifficult to repair an old mansion like Childerbridge without makingsuch repairs too apparent."
"I quite agree with you," said the old man drily. "Your modern architectis no respecter of anything antiquated as a rule."
"And now I must bid you good-evening," said James. "My father and sisterwill be wondering what has become of me."
He shook hands with Mr. Bursfield, who begged him to excuse him for notaccompanying him to the door, and then followed Miss Decie from theroom. They bade each other adieu at the gate.
"I hope your dog will soon be himself again," said Jim, in the hope ofbeing able to prolong the interview, if only for a few moments. "If youwould like me to have him for a few days I would do what I could forhim, and I would see that he is properly looked after."
"I could not think of giving you so much trouble," she returned. "Ithink he will be all right here. I feel certain I shall be able to doall that is necessary. Will you give my kind regards to your sister? Ishould like to tell you that I admire her very much, Mr. Standerton."
"It is very good of you to say so," he replied. Then clutching at thehope thus presented to him, he added, "I trust you and she will be greatfriends."
"I hope so," said Miss Decie, and thereupon bade him good-night.
As he went out to his cart he felt convinced in his own mind that he hadjust parted from the most charming girl he had ever met in his life. Hereflected upon the matter as he completed the short distance thatseparated him from his home, and when he joined his sister in thedrawing-room later, he questioned her concerning her new acquaintance.
"She must lead a very lonely life," said Jim. "I was introduced to theold gentleman she calls grandfather, and if his society is all she hasto depend upon, then I do not envy her her lot."
His sister had a suspicion of what was in his mind though she did notsay so. Like her brother she had taken a great liking to the girl, andthere was every probability, as time went on, of their becoming firmfriends.
"It may interest you to hear that she is coming to tea with me onThursday," said Alice.
Jim _was_ interested, and to prove it registered a mental vow that hewould make a point of being at home that day. As a matter of fact hewas, and was even more impressed than before.
From that day Miss Decie spent a large proportion of her time at theManor House. In less than a month she had become Alice's own particularfriend, and Jim felt that the whole current of his life had beenchanged. What Mr. Bursfield thought of the turn affairs had taken can beseen now, but at the time his views were only a matter of conjecture.That Jim and Miss Decie had managed to fall in love with each other wasquite certain, and that William Standerton approved of his son's choicewas another point that admitted of no doubt. Helen Decie with her prettyface, and charming manners, was a general favourite. At that stage theirwooing was a matter-of-fact one in the extreme. Jim had no rival, and atthe outset no difficulties worth dignifying with the name. He waspermitted unlimited opportunities of seeing the object of his affectionsand, when the time was ripe, and he informed her of the state of hisfeelings towards herself, she gave him her hand, and promised, withoutany hys
terical fuss, to be his wife, with the full intention of doingher utmost to make him happy.
"But, Jim," she said, "before you do anything else, you must see Mr.Bursfield and obtain his consent. He is my guardian, you know, and hasbeen so good to me that I can do nothing without his approval."
"I will see him to-morrow morning," Jim replied, "and I fancy I can tellyou what his answer will be. How could it be otherwise when he knowsthat your happiness is at stake?"
"I hope it will be as you say," she answered, but not with her usualcheerfulness. "Somehow or another grandfather always looks at things ina different light to other people."
"You may be sure I will do my best to get him to look at it as we wanthim to," her lover returned. "I will bring every argument I can think ofto bear upon him."
Needless to say, Mr. Standerton, when he heard the news, was delighted,while Alice professed herself overjoyed at the thought of having Helenfor her sister. In Jim's mind, however, there was the remembrance ofAbraham Bursfield, and of the interview that had to be got through withthat gentleman.
"It's no use beating about the bush or delaying matters," he said tohimself. "I'll walk back with Helen and get it over to-night instead ofto-morrow morning."
He informed his sweetheart of his intention. She signified her approval,and together they strolled across the Park towards the little gate thatopened into the grounds of the Dower House. It was a lovely evening,and, as you may suppose, they were as happy a young couple as could havebeen found in the length and breadth of England. Their engagement hadscarcely commenced, yet Jim was already full of plans for the future.
"I shall take you from that dreary old house," he said, nodding his headin the direction of the building they were approaching, "and we willfind a place somewhere in the neighbourhood. How you have managed toexist here for eight years I cannot imagine."
"It has been dull certainly," she answered, "but I have the house and mygrandfather to look after, so that my time is fairly well taken up."
"You must have felt that you were buried alive," he answered. "In thefuture, however, we'll change all that. You shall go where, and do, justas you please."
She shook her head.
"To make you happy," she said, "will be enough for me."
