CHAPTER XXXVI
THE GIRL-WIFE
But the effort of the past few moments had been almost more thanMarmaduke de Chavasse could bear.
Anon when the church bell over at Acol began a slow and monotonous tollhe felt as if his every nerve must give way: as if he must laugh, laughloudly and long at the idiocy, the ignorance of all these people whothought that they were confronted by an impenetrable mystery, whereas itwas all so simple ... so very, very simple.
He had a curious feeling as if he must grip every one of these men hereby the throat and demand from each one separately an account of what hethought and felt, what he surmised and what he guessed when standingface to face with the weird enigma presented by that mutilated thing inits rough deal case. He would have given worlds to know what his friendBoatfield thought of it all, or what had been the petty constable'sconjectures.
A haunting and devilish desire seized him to break open the skulls ofall these yokels and to look into their brains. Above all now thesilence of the cottage close to him had become unendurable torment. Thatclosed door, the tiny railing which surrounded the bit of front garden,that little gate the latch of which he himself so oft had lifted, allseemed to hold the key to some terrible mystery, the answer to somefearful riddle which he felt would drive him mad if he could not hitupon it now at once.
The brandy had fired his veins: he no longer felt numb with the cold. Apassion of rage was seething in him, and he longed to attack with fistsand heels those curtained windows which now looked like eyes turnedmutely and inquiringly upon him.
But there was enough sanity in him yet to prevent his doing anythingrash: an uncontrolled act might cause astonishment, suspicion mayhap, inthe minds of those who witnessed it. He made a violent effort to steadyhimself even now, above all to steady his voice and to veil that excitedglitter which he knew must be apparent in his eyes.
"Meseems that 'tis somewhat strange," he said quite calmly, evenlightly, to Squire Boatfield who seemed to be preparing to go, "thatthese people--the Lamberts--who alone knew the ... the murdered manintimately, should keep so persistently, so determinedly out of theway."
Even while the words escaped his mouth--certes involuntarily--he knewthat the most elementary prudence should have dictated silence on thisscore, and at this juncture. The man was about to be buried, thedisappearance of the smith had passed off so far without comment. Peace,the eternal peace of the grave, would soon descend on the weird eventswhich occupied everyone's mind for the present.
What the old Quakeress thought and felt, what Richard--thebrother--feared and conjectured was easy for Sir Marmaduke to guess: forhim, but for no one else. To these others the silence of the cottage,the absence of the Lamberts from this gathering was simple enough ofexplanation, seeing that they themselves felt such bitter resentmentagainst the dead man. They quite felt with the old woman's sullenness,her hatred of the foreigner who had disturbed the serenity of her life.
Everyone else was willing to let her be, not to drag her and youngLambert into the unpleasant vortex of these proceedings. Their home wasan abode of mourning: it was proper and seemly for them to remainconcealed and silent within their cottage; seemly, too, to havecurtained their windows and closed their doors.
No one wished to disturb them; no one but Sir Marmaduke, and with him itwas once again that morbid access of curiosity, the passionate, intensedesire to know and to probe every tiny detail in connection with his owncrime.
"The old woman Lambert should be made to identify the body, before it isburied," he now repeated with angry emphasis, seeing that a look ofdisapproval had crossed Squire Boatfield's pleasant face.
"We are satisfied as to the man's identity," rejoined the squireimpatiently, "and the sight is not fit for women's eyes."
"Nay, then she should be shown the clothes and effects.... And, if Imistake not, there's Richard Lambert, my late secretary, has he laidsworn information about the man?"
"Yes, I believe so," said Boatfield with some hesitation.
"Nay, Boatfield, an you are so reluctant to do your duty in this matter,I'll speak to these people myself.... You are chief constable of thedistrict ... indeed, 'tis you should do it ... and in the meanwhile Ipray you, at least to give orders that the coffin be not nailed down."
The kindly squire would have entered a further protest. He did not seethe necessity of confronting an old woman with the gruesome sight of amutilated corpse, nor did he perceive justifiable cause for furtherformalities of identification.
But Sir Marmaduke having spoken very peremptorily, had already turned onhis heel without waiting for his friend's protest, and was stridingacross the patch of rough stubble, which bordered the railing round thefront of the cottage. Squire Boatfield reluctantly followed him. Thenext moment de Chavasse had lifted the latch of the gate, crossed theshort flagged path and now knocked loudly against the front door.
Apparently there was no desire for secrecy or rebellion on the part ofthe dwellers of the cottage, for hardly had Sir Marmaduke's imperiousknock echoed against the timbered walls, than the door was opened fromwithin by Richard Lambert who, seeing the two gentlemen standing on thethreshold, stepped back immediately, allowing them to pass.
The old Quakeress and Richard were seemingly not alone. Two ladies satin those same straight-backed chairs, wherein, some fifty hours ago AdamLambert and the French prince had agreed upon that fateful meeting onthe brow of the cliff.
Sir Marmaduke's restless eyes took in at a glance every detail of thatlittle parlor, which he had known so intimately. The low lintel of thedoor, which had always forced him to stoop as he entered, the centraltable with the pewter candlesticks upon it, the elm chairs shining likemirrors in response to the Quakeress' maddening passion for cleanliness.
Everything was just as it had been those few hours ago, when last he hadpicked up his broad-brimmed hat from the table and walked out of thecottage into the night. Everything was the same as it had been when hisyoung girl-wife pushed a leather wallet across the table to him: thewallet which contained the fortune that he had not yet dared to turnfully to his own account.
Aye! it was all just the same: for even at this moment as he stood therein the room, Sue, pale and still, faced him from across the table. For amoment he was silent, nor did anybody speak. Squire Boatfield feltunaccountably embarrassed, certain that he was intruding, vaguelywondering why the atmosphere in the cottage was so heavy andoppressive.
Behind him, Richard Lambert had quietly closed the front door; the oldwoman stood in the background; the dusting-cloth which she had beenplying so vigorously had dropped out of her hand when the two gentlemenhad appeared in her little parlor so unexpectedly.
Sir Marmaduke was the first to break the silence.
"My dear Sue," he said curtly, "this is a strange place indeed whereinto find your ladyship."
He cast a sharp, inquiring glance at her, then at his sister-in-law, whowas still sitting by the hearth.
"She insisted on coming," said Mistress de Chavasse with a shrug of theshoulders, "and I had not the power to stop her; I thought it best,therefore, to accompany her."
She was wearing the cloak and hood which Sir Marmaduke had seen roundher shoulders when awhile ago he had met her in the hall of the Court.Apparently she had started out with Sue in his immediate wake, and nowhe had a distinct recollection that while the mare was slowly amblingalong, he had looked back once or twice and seen two dark figureswalking some fifty yards behind him on the road which he himself hadjust traversed.
At the moment he had imagined that they were some village folk, wendingtheir way towards Acol: now he was conscious of nerve-racking irritationat the thought that if he had only turned the mare's head back towardthe Court--as he had at one time intended to do--he could have avertedthis present meeting--it almost seemed like a confrontation--here, inthis cottage on the self-same spot, where thought of murder had firststruck upon his brain.
There was something inexplicable, strangely puzzling now in S
ue'sattitude.
When de Chavasse had entered, she had risen from her chair and, as ifdeliberately, had walked over to the spot where she had stood duringthat momentous interview, when she relinquished her fortune entirely andwithout protest, into the hands of the man whom she had married, andwhom she believed to be her lord.
Her gaze now--calm and fixed, and withal vaguely searching--rested onher guardian's face. The fixity of her look increased his nerve-tension.The others, too, were regarding him with varying feelings which werefreely expressed in their eyes. Boatfield seemed upset and somewhatresentful, the old woman sullen, despite the deference in her attitude,Lambert defiant, wrathful, nay! full of an incipient desire to avengepast wrongs.
And dominating all, there was Editha's look of bewilderment, ofpuzzledom in her face at a mystery whereat her senses were beginning toreel, that mute questioning of the eyes, which speaks of turbulentthoughts within.
Sir Marmaduke uttered an exclamation of impatience.
"You must return to the Court and at once," he said, avoiding Sue'sgaze and speaking directly to Editha, "the men are outside, withlanterns. You'll have to walk quickly an you wish to reach home beforetwilight."
But even while he spoke, Sue--not heeding him--had turned to SquireBoatfield. She went up to him, holding out her hands as if ininstinctive childlike appeal for protection, to a kindly man.
"This mystery is horrible!" she murmured.
Boatfield took her small hands in his, patting them gently the while,desiring to soothe and comfort her, for she seemed deeply agitated andthere was a wild look of fear from time to time in her pale face.
"Sir Marmaduke is right," said the squire gently, "this is indeed noplace for your ladyship. I did not see you arrive or I had at oncepersuaded you to go."
De Chavasse would again have interposed. He stooped and picked up Sue'scloak which had fallen to the ground, and as he went up to her with theobvious intention of replacing it around her shoulders, she checked him,with a slight motion of her hand.
"I only heard of this terrible crime an hour ago," she said, speakingonce more to Boatfield, "and as I methinks, am the only person in theworld who can throw light upon this awesome mystery, I thought it myduty to come."
"Of a truth 'twas brave of your ladyship," quoth the squire, feeling alittle bewildered at this strange announcement, "but surely ... youdid not know this man?"
"If the rumor which hath reached me be correct," she replied quietly,"then indeed did I know the murdered man intimately. Prince Ameded'Orleans was my husband."
The Nest of the Sparrowhawk: A Romance of the XVIIth Century Page 36
