The Nest of the Sparrowhawk: A Romance of the XVIIth Century

by Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy

  CHAPTER V

  THE LEGAL ASPECT

  Mistress de Chavasse sat musing, in that high-backed chair, for someconsiderable time. Anon Sir Marmaduke once more traversed the hall,taking no heed of her as he went out into the garden. She watched hisbroad figure moving along the path and then crossing the rustic bridgeuntil it disappeared among the trees of the park.

  There was something about his attitude of awhile ago which puzzled her.And with puzzlement came an inexplicable fear: she had known Marmadukein all his moods, but never in such an one as he had displayed beforeher just now. There had been a note almost of triumph in the laughterwith which he had greeted her last reproach. The cry of the sparrowhawkwhen it seizes its prey.

  Triumph in Sir Marmaduke filled her with dread. No one knew better thanshe did the hopeless condition of his financial status. Debt--prisonperhaps--was waiting for him at every turn. Yet he seemed triumphant!She knew him to have reached those confines of irritability andrebellion against poverty which would cause him to shrink from nothingfor the sake of gaining money. Yet he seemed triumphant!

  Instinctively she shuddered as she thought of Sue. She had no cause tolike the girl, yet would she not wish to see her come to harm.

  She did not dare avow even to herself the conviction which she had, thatif Sir Marmaduke could gain anything by the young girl's death, he wouldnot hesitate to ... Nay! she would not even frame that thought.Marmaduke had been kind to her; she could but hope that temptation suchas that, would never come his way.

  Hymn-of-Praise Busy broke in on her meditations. His nasal tones--whichhad a singular knack of irritating her as a rule--struck quitepleasingly on her ear, as a welcome interruption to the conflict of herthoughts.

  "Master Skyffington, ma'am," he said in his usual drawly voice, "he ison his way to Dover, and desired his respects, an you wish to see him."

  "Yes! yes! I'll see Master Skyffington," she said with alacrity, risingfrom her chair, "go apprise Sir Marmaduke, and ask Master Skyffington tocome within."

  She was all agitation now, eager, excited, and herself went forward tomeet the quaint, little wizened figure which appeared in the doorway.

  Master Skyffington, attorney-at-law, was small and thin--looked doublyso, in fact, in the black clothes which he wore. His eyes were blue andwatery, his manner peculiarly diffident. He seemed to present aperpetual apology to the world for his own existence therein.

  Even now as Mistress de Chavasse seemed really overjoyed to see him, hebacked his meager person out of the doorway as she approached, whereuponshe--impatiently--clutched his arm and dragged him forward into thehall.

  "Sit down there, master," she said, speaking with obvious agitation, andalmost pushing the poor little man off his feet whilst dragging him to achair. "Sir Marmaduke will see you anon, but 'twas a kind thought tocome and bring me news."

  "Hem! ... hem! ..." stammered Master Skyffington, "I ... that is ... hem... I left Canterbury this morning and was on my way to Dover ... hem... this lies on my way, ma'am ... and ..."

  "Yes! yes!" she said impatiently, "but you have some news, of course?"

  "News! ... news!" he muttered apologetically, and clutching at hiscollar, which seemed to be choking him, "what news--er--I pray you,ma'am?"

  "That clew?" she insisted.

  "It was very slight," he stammered.

  "And it led to naught?"

  "Alas!"

  Her eagerness vanished. She sank back into her chair and moaned.

  "My last hope!" she said dully.

  "Nay! nay!" rejoined Master Skyffington quite cheerfully, his courageseemingly having risen with her despair. "We must not be despondent. Thenoble Earl of Northallerton hath interested himself of late in thesearch and ..."

  But she shrugged her shoulders, whilst a short, bitter laugh escaped herlips:

  "At last?" she said with biting sarcasm. "After twelve years!"

  "Nay! but remember, ma'am, that his lordship now is very ill ... andnigh on seventy years old.... Failing your late husband, MasterRowland--whom the Lord hath in His keeping--your eldest son is ... hem... that is ... by law, ma'am, ... and with all respect due to SirMarmaduke ... your eldest son is heir to the Earldom."

  "And though his lordship hates me, he still prefers that my son shouldsucceed to his title, rather than Sir Marmaduke whom he abhors."

  But that suggestion was altogether too much for poor MasterSkyffington's sense of what was due to so noble a family, and to itsexalted head.

  "That is ... er ..." he muttered in supreme discomfort, swallowing greatgulps which rose to his throat at this rash and disrespectful speechfrom the ex-actress. "Family feuds ... hem ... er ... very distressingof a truth ... and ... that is ..."

  "I fear me his lordship will be disappointed," she rejoined, quiteheedless of the little attorney's perturbation, "and that under thesecircumstances Sir Marmaduke will surely succeed."

  "I was about to remark," he rejoined, "that now, with my lord'shelp--his wealth and influence ... now, that is, ... that he hasinterested himself in the matter ... hem ... we might make freshinquiries ... that is ... er ..."

  "It will be useless, master. I have done all that is humanly possible. Iloved my boys dearly--and it was because of my love for them that Iplaced them under my mother's care.... I loved them, you understand, butI was living in a gay world in London ... my husband was dead ... Icould do naught for their comfort.... I thought it would be best forthem ..."

  It was her turn now to speak humbly, almost apologetically, whilst hereyes sought those of the simple little attorney, trying to read approvalin his glance, or at any rate an absence of reproof. He was shaking hishead, sighing with visible embarrassment the while. In his innermostsoul, he could find no excuse for the frivolous mother, anxious to avoidthe responsibilities which the Lord Himself had put upon her: anxious tobe rid of her children in order that she might pursue with greaterfreedom and ease that life of enjoyment and thoughtlessness which shecraved.

  "My mother was a strange woman," continued Mistress de Chavasseearnestly and placing her small white hand on the black sleeve of theattorney, "she cared little enough for me, and not at all for Londonand for society. She did not understand the many duties that devolve ona woman of fashion.... And I was that in those days! ... twenty yearsago!"

  "Ah! Truly! truly!" sighed Master Skyffington.

  "Mayhap she acted according to her own lights.... After some years shebecame a convert to that strange new faith ... of the people who callthemselves 'Friends' ... who salute no one with the hat, and who talk sostrangely, saying: 'thee' and 'thou' even when addressing their betters.One George Fox had a great hold on her. He was quite a youth then, butshe thought him a saint. 'Tis he, methinks, poisoned her mind againstme, and caused her to curse me on her deathbed."

  She gave a little shudder--of superstition, perhaps. The maternalcurse--she felt--was mayhap bearing fruit after all. MasterSkyffington's watery eyes expressed gentle sympathy. His calling hadtaught him many of the hidden secrets of human nature and of Life: heguessed that the time--if not already here--was nigh at hand, when thisunfortunate woman would realize the emptiness of her life, and wouldbegin to reap the bitter harvest of the barren seeds which she had sown.

  "Aye! I lay it all at the door of these 'Friends' who turned a mother'sheart against her own daughter," continued Mistress de Chavassevehemently. "She never told me that she was sick, sent me neither letternor message; only after her death a curt note came to me, writ in herhand, entrusted to one of her own co-worshipers, a canting, mouthingcreature, who grinned whilst I read the heartless message. My mother hadsent her grandchildren away, so she told me in the letter, when she feltthat the Lord was calling her to Him. She had placed my boys--my boys,master!--in the care of a trusted 'friend' who would bring them up inthe fear of God, away from the influence of their mother. My boys,master, remember! ... they were to be brought up in ignorance of theirname--of the very existence of their mother. The 'friend,' doubtless afellow Quaker--h
ad agreed to this on my mother's deathbed."

  "Hm! 'tis passing strange, and passing sad," said the attorney, withreal sympathy now, for there was a pathetic note of acute sorrow inMistress de Chavasse's voice, "but at the time ... hem ... and withmoney and influence ... hem ... much might have been done."

  "Ah! believe me, master, I did what I could. I was in London then.... Iflew to Canterbury where my mother lived.... I found her dead ... andthe boys gone ... none of the neighbors could tell me whither.... Allthey knew was that a woman had been living with my mother of late andhad gone away, taking the boys with her.... My boys, master, and no onecould tell me whither they had gone! I spent what money I had, and SirMarmaduke nobly bore his share in the cost of a ceaseless search, as theEarl of Northallerton would do nothing then to help me."

  "Passing strange ... passing sad," murmured Master Skyffington, shakinghis head, "but methinks I recollect ... hem ... some six years ago ... aquest which led to a clew ... er ... that is ... two young gentlemen..."

  "Impostors, master," she rejoined, "aye! I have heard of many such sincethen. At first I used to believe their stories ..."

  "At first?" he ejaculated in amazement, "but surely ... hem ... thefaces ... your own sons, ma'am ..."

  "Ah! the faces!" she said, whilst a blush of embarrassment, even ofshame, now suffused her pale cheeks. "I mean ... you understand ... I... I had not seen my boys since they were babes in arms ... they wereten years old when they were taken away ... but ... but it is nigh ontwenty-two years since I have set eyes on their faces. I would not knowthem, if they passed me by."

  Tears choked her voice. Shame had added its bitter sting to the agony ofher sorrow. Of a truth it was a terrible epilogue of misery, followingon a life-story of frivolity and of heartlessness which Mistress deChavasse had almost unconsciously related to the poor ignorant countryattorney. Desirous at all costs of retaining her freedom, she had partedfrom her children with a light heart, glad enough that theirgrandmother was willing to relieve her of all responsibility. Timeslipped by whilst she enjoyed herself, danced and flirted, gambled andplayed her part in that world of sport and Fashion wherein a mother'sheart was an unnecessary commodity. Ten years are a long while in thelife of an old woman who lives in a remote country town, and sees Deathapproaching with slow yet certain stride; but that same decade is but asa fleeting hour to the woman who is young and who lives for the moment.

  The boys had been forgotten long ere they disappeared! Forgotten?perhaps not!--but their memory put away in a hidden cell of the mindwhere other inconvenient thoughts were stored: only to be released andgazed upon when other more agreeable ones had ceased to fill the brain.

  She felt humbled before this simple-minded man, whom she knew she hadshocked by the recital of her callousness. With innate gentleness ofdisposition he tried to hide his feelings and to set aside the subjectfor the moment.

  "Sir Marmaduke was very disinterested, when he aided you in the quest,"he said meekly, glad to be able to praise one whom he felt it his dutyto respect, "for under present circumstances ... hem! ..."

  "I will raise no difficulties in Sir Marmaduke's way," she rejoined,"there is no doubt in my mind that my boys are dead, else I had had newsof them ere this."

  He looked at her keenly--as keenly as he dared with his mild, blueeyes. It was hard to keep in sympathy with her. Her moods seemed tochange as she spoke of her boys and then of Sir Marmaduke. Her lastremark seemed to argue that her callousness with regard to her sons hadnot entirely yielded to softer emotions yet.

  "In case of my Lord Northallerton's death," she continued lightly, "Ishall not put in a claim on behalf of any son of mine."

  "Whereupon--hem Sir Marmaduke as next-of-kin, would have the enjoymentof the revenues--and mayhap would have influence enough then to makegood his claim to the title before the House of Lords ..."

  He checked himself: looked furtively round and added:

  "Provided it please God and my Lord Protector that the House of Lordscome back to Westminster by that time."

  "I thank you, master," said Mistress de Chavasse, rising from her chair,intimating that this interview was now over, "you have told me all thatI wish to know. Let me assure you, that I will not prove ungrateful.Your services will be amply repaid by whomever succeeds to the title andrevenues of Northallerton. Did you wish to see Sir Marmaduke?"

  "I thank you, mistress, not to-day," replied Master Skyffington somewhatdryly. The lady's promises had not roused his enthusiasm. He would havepreferred to see more definite reward for his labors, for he had workedfaithfully and was substantially out of pocket in this quest after thetwo missing young men.

  But he was imbued with that deep respect for the family he had servedall his life, which no conflict between privilege and people would evereradicate, and though Mistress de Chavasse's origin was of the humblest,she was nevertheless herself now within the magic circle into whichMaster Skyffington never gazed save with the deepest reverence.

  He thought it quite natural that she should dismiss him with a curt andcondescending nod, and when she had swept majestically out of the room,he made his way humbly across the hall, then by the garden door outtowards the tumble-down barn where he had tethered his old mare.

  Master Courage helped him to mount, and he rode away in the direction ofthe Dover Road, his head bent, his thoughts dwelling in puzzlement andwonder on the strange doings of those whom he still reverently calledhis betters.