The Wicked Marquis

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER XXXIV

  At a few minutes after nine, the following morning, the Marquis enteredthe room where breakfast was usually served. The Duchess, intravelling clothes and a hat, was lifting the covers from the silverdishes upon the sideboard, with a fork in her hand. She welcomed him alittle shortly.

  "Good morning, Reginald!"

  "Good morning, Caroline," he replied. "Are you the only representativeof the household?"

  She snorted.

  "Charlie Grantham went off in his little two-seater at eight o'clockthis morning," she announced. "He is motoring up to town. Leftapologies with Gossett, I believe--telegram or something in the night.All fiddlesticks, of course!"

  "Naturally," the Marquis assented, helping himself from one of thedishes and drawing his chair up to his sister's side. "So exit CharlesGrantham, eh?"

  "And me," the Duchess declared, returning to her place and pouring outthe coffee. "I suppose you can send me to Fakenham for the ten o'clocktrain?"

  The Marquis considered for a moment.

  "I am not sure, Caroline," he said, "that your departure is entirelykind."

  "Well, I'm jolly certain I don't mean it to be," she answered bitterly."I ask no questions, and I hate scenes. A week ago I should havescoffed at the idea of David Thain as a prospective suitor for Letitia.Now, my advice to you is, the sooner you can get them married, thebetter."

  "Really!" he murmured. "You've given up the idea, then, of taking theyoung man to Scotland?"

  "Entirely," the Duchess assured him emphatically. "I was an idiot toever consider it. When people of his class find their way amongst us,disaster nearly always follows. You see, they don't know the rules ofthe game, as we play it. Whilst we are on this subject, Reginald, whatare you going to do about it?"

  The Marquis unlocked his letter case and shook out the contents.

  "You mean about last night?" he asked. "Well, as I don't want to bethe laughing-stock of the county, I shall keep as quiet as I can. Iknew that something ridiculous would happen, with that poor lunaticsitting in the garden, poring over the Bible all day long."

  The Duchess looked distinctly malicious.

  "I am not at all as sure as I should like to be," she said, "that theold man is to blame for everything."

  The Marquis looked at his sister intently. She bent over the milk jug.

  "You leave me in some doubt, Caroline," he observed coldly, "as to whatframe of mind you are in, when you make such utterly incomprehensibleremarks and curtail your visit to us so suddenly. At the same time, Ihope that whatever your private feelings may be, you will not forgetcertain--shall I call them obligations?"

  "Oh, don't be afraid!" she rejoined. "I am not likely to advertise myfolly, especially at Letitia's expense. I don't care a jot whether theyoung man came through a hole in the wall or dropped down from theclouds. I only know that his presence in Letitia's bedchamber--"

  "We will drop the discussion, if you please," the Marquis interrupted.

  There was just the one note in his tone, an inheritance, perhaps, fromthose more virile ancestors, which reduced even his sister to silence.The Marquis adjusted his eyeglass and commenced a leisurely inspectionof his letters. He did so without any anxiety, without the slightestpremonition of evil. Even when he recognised her handwriting, he didso with a little thrill of pleasurable anticipation. He drew theletter closer to him and with a word of excuse turned away towards thewindow. Perhaps she was wanting him. After all, it would be quiteeasy to run up to London for a day--and wonderfully pleasant. He drewthe single sheet from its envelope. The letters seemed magnified. Thewhole significance of those cruel words seemed to reach him with asingle mental effort.

  Reginald, I was married to James Borden this morning. I suppose it isthe uncivilised part of me which has been pulling at my heartstrings,day by day, week by week, the savage in me clamouring for its rightbefore it is too late.

  So we change positions, only whereas you have atoned and justifiedevery one of your actions towards me since our eyes first met, I amleft without any means of atonement.

  Will you forgive?

  Your very humble and penitent MARCIA.

  The Marquis replaced the letter in the envelope. For several momentshe stood looking across the park, beyond, to the well-cultivated farmsrolling away to the distant line of hills. His brain was numbed.Marcia had gone!--There was a mist somewhere. He rubbed thewindowpane, in vain. Then he set his teeth, and his long, nervousfingers gripped at his throat for a moment.

  "Your coffee is getting cold," his sister reminded him.

  He came back to his place. She watched him a little curiously.

  "Any message from our pseudo-Lothario?" she asked.

  The Marquis gathered up his other letters.

  "There is nothing here from him," he said, "but I must ask you toexcuse me, Caroline. There is an urgent matter which needs myattention."

  He crossed the room a little more slowly than usual, and his sister,who was still watching him critically, sighed. There was no doubt atall that his walk was becoming the walk of an old man. The stoop ofthe shoulders was also a new thing. She counted up his age on herfingers, and, rising from her place, looked at herself in the mirroropposite. Her face for a moment was hard and set, and her fingersclenched.

  "Years!" she muttered to herself. "How I hate them!"

  The Marquis selected a grey Homburg hat of considerable antiquity, anda thicker stick than usual, from the rack in the hall. The front doorsstood wide open, and he walked out into the pleasant sunshine. It wasa warm morning, but twice he shivered as he passed down the broad sweepof drive and, with a curious sensation of unfamiliarity, crossed thelittle bridge over the moat, the few yards of park, and finallyapproached the palings which bordered Richard Vont's domain. The miststill seemed to linger before his eyes, but through it he could see thefamiliar figure seated in his ancient chair, with the book upon hisknee. The Marquis drew close to the side of the palings.

  "Richard Vont," he began, "I have come down from Mandeleys to speak toyou. Will you listen to what I have to say?"

  There was no reply. The Marquis drew the letter from his pocket.

  "You are a cruel and stubborn man, Vont," he continued. "You have gonefar out of your way to bring injury and unhappiness upon me. All yourefforts are as nothing. Will you hear from me what has happened?"

  There was silence, still grim silence. The Marquis stretched out hishand and leaned a little upon the paling.

  "I took your daughter, Richard Vont, not as a libertine but as a lover.It was perhaps the truest impulse my life has ever felt. If there wassin in it, listen. Hear how I am punished. Month followed month andyear followed year, and Marcia was content with my love and I withhers, so that during all this time my lips have touched no otherwoman's, no other woman has for a moment engaged even my fancy. I havebeen as faithful to your daughter, Richard Vont, as you to yourvindictive enmity. From a discontented and unhappy girl she has becomea woman with a position in the world, a brilliant writer, filled withthe desire and happiness of life to her finger tips. From me shereceived the education, the travel, the experience which have helpedher to her place in the world, and with them I gave her my heart. Andnow--you are listening, Richard Vont? You will hear what has happened?"

  Still that stony silence from the figure in the chair. Still thatincreasing mist before the eyes of the man who leaned towards him.

  "Your daughter, Richard Vont," the Marquis concluded, "has taken yourvengeance into her own hands. Your prayers have come true, though notfrom the quarter you had hoped. You saw only a little way. You triedto strike only a foolish blow. It has been given to your daughter todo more than this. She has broken my heart, Richard Vont. She grew tobecome the dearest thing in my life, and she has left me.--Yesterdayshe was married."

  No exclamation, no movement. The Marquis wiped his eyes and saw withunexpected clearness. What had happened seemed so natural that for amom
ent he was not even surprised. He stepped over the palings, leanedfor a single moment over the body of the man to whom he had beentalking, and laid the palm of his hand over the lifeless eyes. Then hewalked down the tiled path and called to the woman whose face he hadseen through the latticed window.

  "Mrs. Wells," he said, "something serious has happened to Vont."

  "Your lordship!"

  "He is dead," the Marquis told her. "You had better go down to thevillage and fetch the doctor. I will send a message to his nephew."

  Back again across the park, very gorgeous now in the fuller sunshine,casting quaint shadows underneath the trees, glittering upon thestreaks of yellow cowslips on the hillside. The birds were singing andthe air was as soft as midsummer. He crossed the bridge, turned intothe drive and stood for a moment in his own hall. A servant camehurrying towards him.

  "Run across the park to Broomleys as fast as you can," his masterdirected. "Tell Mr. Thain to go at once to Vont's cottage. You hadbetter let him know that Vont is dead."

  The young man hastened off. Gossett appeared from somewhere in thebackground and opened the door of the study towards which the Marquiswas slowly making his way.

  "The shock has been too much for your lordship," the man murmured."May I bring you some brandy?"

  The Marquis shook his head.

  "It is necessary, Gossett," he said, "that I should be absolutelyundisturbed for an hour. Kindly see that no one even knocks at my doorfor that period of time."

  Gossett held open the door and closed it softly. He was a very oldservant, and in great measure he understood.