Читать книгу Charles Peace, or The Adventures of a Notorious Burglar - Anonymous - Страница 84

We left Aveline Gatliffe at the door of Earl Ethalwood’s seat, known as Broxbridge Hall. The engineer’s wife and child were conducted into the presence of the proud old lord, who was anxiously awaiting their appearance.

Mr. Chicknell introduced the visitors, and at first there was an air of restraint and timidity upon the part of Aveline, and a certain amount of hauteur in the manner of the earl. This, however, soon wore off.

“I think, my lord,” observed the lawyer, with something like triumph in his tone, “that there cannot be much mistake in the matter. If any doubts did exist in the mind of your lordship they are now dispelled.”

The earl nodded.

“It is Aveline, Aveline risen from the dead—​my own Avaline.”

“You hear what his lordship says?” cried the lawyer, addressing himself to the lady.

“I do, sir,” she answered. “I am so wonderstruck that I hardly know how to comport myself, or to thank you sufficiently for the interest you have taken in the welfare of one who was to you a perfect stranger.”

“I have had a duty to perform which I have endeavoured to carry out to the best of my ability,” answered Mr. Chicknell. “I may observe that it was a difficult and delicate task, but it is at all times a pleasure to me to meet with the approval of my client and yourself.”

While these few remarks were being made the earl had been gazing intently on the young woman, and he nearly lost his self-possession as his eyes fell upon her beautiful face.

Aveline, who did not know very well what to say or do, observed, quietly, to the earl—

“I am sure you will love me for my dear mother’s sake.”

She had all the Ethalwood grace of manner and movement.

The earl was touched, for she had crept up to him and laid her hand gently on his arm.

He kissed her on the forehead; he looked at the violet eyes, with their golden light; he laid his hand on the shining masses of waving hair.

Then he sighed.

He was thinking of other and earlier days in his troubled life.

His memory conjured up the image of the wife who had proved so false to him, who fled with her paramour, and died in a foreign land unheeded and uncared for.

How about the young creature before him?

Was she to be trusted?

Time will show.

“I shall learn,” said he, in answer to her question, “to love you best for your own sake, and no other.”

“Ah!” ejaculated Aveline, a little disconcerted, “for my own sake?”

“Yes,” he answered. “I think you good and true—​nay, I am sure of it. Is this little fellow your son? You seem to me to look so very young that I can hardly believe you are a mother, or that I am a great grandfather,” he added, with a smile.

“You mustn’t tell people that, my lord,” observed Mr. Chicknell, in a bantering tone.

“They’ll find it out without any one telling them,” answered the earl, taking the boy in his arms, and, placing him on his knee, looking at him with evident interest.

“He has something of the Ethalwood face,” he said, musingly.

“Ah! most undoubtedly. I saw that from the very first,” cried the lawyer. “Indeed, to say the truth, he resembles your lordship in a most remarkable degree.”

You think so?”

“Certainly. It is plain and palpable enough to the most obtuse observer. Quite the Ethalwood cast of feature.”

Aveline proved, to her grandfather’s delight, that she too had some of the old Ethalwood spirit and pride. Although the magnificence of the interior of Broxbridge Hall was enough to startle and surprise one brought up in a humble sphere of life she did not express surprise, but was perfectly self-possessed.

There was an air of refinement about her which went far towards propitiating the proud old nobleman, who, if he disliked any one thing more in this world than another it was vulgarity, or even anything that bordered on it.

In this respect he had no reason to complain of his grand-daughter, whose natural grace of manner won upon him the more he became acquainted with her.

He was, in short, delighted with her; she seemed to bridge over a wide gulf which separated the present from the past.

The long, long, solitary years he had passed had made him something of a misanthrope, now a new light broke in upon his gloomy path which seemed all of a sudden to be irradiated with sunshine.

If he could only have this young and fair creature all to himself, make her his darling, how happy would he be! But then there was a husband in the way. This last-named he would not countenance nor receive, not under any circumstances.

These thoughts rushed rapidly through his mind as he sat nursing and fondling the little boy.

“You will be my guest for a short time. You will do me the pleasure of remaining at Broxbridge,” said he, suddenly, “so that we become better acquainted.”

Aveline turned towards Mr. Chicknell and said, “It was understood, was it not, that I was to remain for a short time?”

“Oh, yes, certainly,” returned the lawyer. “I told Mr. Gatliff so; that’s a distinct understanding.”

The earl’s countenance darkened.

“I have no desire to coerce or control you in any way; indeed I have no right to do so, but still as a favour—”

“There is no favour in the matter, my lord,” cried Aveline, “I will remain with you for the present.”

“Spoken like a scion of the house of Ethalwood,” exclaimed the earl, in evident delight.

The wife of the young engineer was taken by the housekeeper of Broxbridge into a superb suite of rooms, which had already been prepared for her. She was wise enough not to give expression to the surprise she felt at the grandeur of the apartments.

There was a day and night nursery for the boy, and there was a neat smiling maid to attend to him.

A suite of four rooms had been set apart for the sole use of Aveline herself. These were magnificent and luxurious as though they had been for a queen. They consisted of a boudoir with rose silk hangings, rare pictures, fragrant flowers, exquisite statuary, and furniture of the most modern beautiful design; a sleeping chamber, all white and gold; a dressing-room, filled up with every luxury that the proudest lady in the land could not fail to be satisfied with; and a small library, where she could read, write, or study at will.

As a matter of course, she was treated with the greatest deference by all the servants at Broxbridge.

“I hope you will find all you desire in these apartments,” said the housekeeper, “but should you require anything else your orders will be attended to without a moment’s delay.”

“These are intended for me, then?” returned Aveline, looking round at the beautifully furnished rooms.

The housekeeper answered in the affirmative.

A pleasant-looking maid now entered, and, after smiling and dropping a curtsey, she said that Lord Ethalwood had deputed her to attend upon his grand-daughter.

Aveline took this for granted, and did not appear at all astonished.

The wardrobe doors were opened by the obsequious maid-servant, and an extensive assortment of costumes were displayed.

Aveline saw wondrous treasures of satin, silk, and lace dresses that had been sent from Paris; Cashmere shawls and mantles of the richest velvet. There was also provided everything necessary in the way of gloves, fans, slippers, &c. Nothing had been forgotten.

Aveline’s face grew pale with wonder as she gazed.

“Shall I help you, madame, to dress for dinner?” inquired the maid, and Aveline, with some little trepidation, consented.

The girl had selected a demi-toilet, a dress of rich blue velvet trimmed with white lace. She arranged the wavy masses of light brown hair so as to show its silky abundance, she placed a white camelia in it, and then she opened a jewel ease that lay on the table. It contained a suite of pearls, a beautiful necklace, bracelet, and ear-rings.

When her toilette was complete and the last finishing touch had been given by her attentive hand-maiden, Avoline looked at herself in one of the survey glasses which reflected on its face the whole of the figure, and She was perfectly dazzled at her resplendent appearance.

Could it be possible that the lovely, radiant, magnificently dressed woman was the wife of Tom Gatliffe, a poor working man?

The white graceful neck and exquisitely moulded shoulders were fair as the soft gleaming pearls—​the rounded arms were perfect in shape as the small white hands.

She smiled to herself.

It seemed hardly possible that she could have been so transformed.

It has been said that beauty unadorned is adorned the most, but it would be in vain to conceal that the most beautiful woman is not enhanced by the aid of elegant attire and rendered still more radiant by glittering jewels.

“I wish poor Tom could see me now,” she murmured, “he would hardly recognise me. Indeed, to say the truth, I hardly know myself.”

She went down to the drawing-room where the Earl and Mr. Chicknell awaited her.

They both looked up in wonder as the magnificently-attired girl entered the room.

The old lord was profuse in his compliments. He was evidently proud of his grand-daughter’s aristocratic appearance.

“She is an ornament to the old walls of Broxbridge,” cried the lawyer, “and I congratulate you, my lord, in possessing such a charming companion, whose presence here imparts so much happiness.”

Aveline blushed. She was not accustomed as yet to the compliments which fall so glibly from lips of men of good breeding.

She went through the ordeal of dinner with great calmness and self-control.

But there were many things which, in some measure, made her feel uneasy. She had never partaken of a meal of such an elaborate description. The number of courses seemed to bewilder her.

The banquet was served with the greatest care. The services of gold and silver plate, the rare wines, the exotics, and the luxury which seemed to abound everywhere, half startled her.

She took the initiative from her grandfather—​she watched what he did, and imitated him.

“She is clever, and can be easily taught. Three months under the careful tuition of some accomplished high-bred woman,” murmured the earl to himself, “and she will be fit for any society.”

“I hope and trust you will find yourself so comfortable here,” said Mr. Chicknell, addressing himself to the young lady, “that you will not object to remain for a very long time.”

“Ahem! I cannot be made more comfortable. My only fear is that I shall be spoilt,” answered Aveline; “and besides, I must not forget my husband.”

The earl held up his hand deprecatingly.

“I must entreat of you not to mention his name,” he said, quickly. “Pray do not.”

Her face flushed with anger; she was about to make some sharp retort, but had the prudence to smother her rising anger, and forbore from making any reply.

Mr. Chicknell adroitly turned the conversation with the tact and address of an accomplished courtier. He engaged the earl’s attention upon one or two topics which were favourite ones with him.

The cloud passed over, and the earl took his protegée to the picture gallery. He talked pleasantly to her, and allowed her to see how greatly she was admired by him.

Without ostentation, without boasting, he gave her some faint idea of the glories of the house of Ethalwood. He was well up in the history of his ancestors. He showed her ancient armour that had been worn by the heroes and warriors of his race.

He showed her the pictured faces of men whose voice had ruled the land. He showed her the portraits of ladies whose names had been proverbial for beauty and grace.

“I point out these things to you, my child,” said the earl, “so that when I am gathered to my fathers you may keep the remembrance of our ancestors green in your memory; for it has pleased heaven to make known to me that there is yet a living descendant of our long and honourable line, who will, let me hope, wear with credit the honours which, in good time, will be his.”

“To whom do you allude, my lord?” said Aveline.

“I cannot refer to any other than your son.”

The young girl by his side smiled wanly, but her heart was too full to make any reply.

“We shall have to discourse on this subject on some future day,” said he, still in the same measured and melancholy tone and manner he was wont to assume when referring to family matters. “Yes, some other day,” he repeated.

She bowed her head, and clung closer to him.

Something struck her just then that he was a strange weird kind of man, who seemed to have the power of drawing her closer and closer towards him, until he held her in perfect subjection.

This was but a fugitive thought, but as it passed through her brain she became more reserved in her manner.

“I doubt not but we shall understand each other pretty well,” said he; “and I am sure you will do your best to meet my views. I am old, and old age is exacting.”

“I will not hear you say so,” cried Aveline.

He stooped down, drew her towards him, and kissed her on the cheek.

She passed upstairs to her own suite of rooms, and he returned to the banqueting hall.

Aveline, upon reaching her own rooms, sat down and wrote a long letter to her husband.

In this she described all that had taken place during the day; she informed him also that a grand future was in store for their son, and furthermore that she durst not offend the earl, who had requested her to remain for a short period as his guest, and, under the circumstances it was impossible for her to refuse, and so he must make himself as comfortable as possible during her temporary but unavoidable absence.

Gatliffe, as may be readily imagined, felt lonely during the absence of his wife, for he was not a young man who had at any time sought companionship in the society of those who were frequenters of a public-house.

However, as there did not appear any help for it, he took refuge in the house of Mrs. Maitland, his mother-in-law.

In a few days after her introduction Aveline Gatliffe began to feel more at home at Broxbridge. She became accustomed to its splendours, to its many charms, to the new and beautiful life that opened to her.

She had always yearned for rank and power, and felt assured that sooner or later she would find herself in a higher sphere. In this, as we have seen, she was not mistaken.

Whether the allurements and follies of fashionable life were destined to bring with them unalloyed happiness she had yet to find out. At present she was well satisfied.

She looked back with wonder at the time she had passed at Sheffield, at Rotherham, and lastly at Wood Green.

How had she borne the quiet seclusion of these places and everything she now valued most? She began to look with contempt upon her past career. Nevertheless she was not disposed to discard her husband, but who, to say the truth, appeared at this time a sort of blot on the landscape.

Lord Ethalwood was most careful and adroit in his treatment of her.

He studiously avoided saying anything that she could openly resent, but at the same time he lost no opportunity at sneering at low-bred persons, and in a pointed manner made frequent allusions to men and women of quality, who were so far removed from the commoners.

Class distinctions he believed in like some old feudal lord. He endeavoured to imbue Aveline with the same notions as himself, and it must be admitted that to a considerable extent he succeeded.

The time soon came when, so far from feeling annoyed with him when he was riding his favourite hobby, she coincided with him in his views.

Mr. Chicknell did not attempt to interfere. He saw pretty clearly his client’s course of action, and let him carry it out after his own fashion.

“My grandchild will not leave me, Chicknell,” said the earl to his lawyer. “I feel assured of that.”

“Not leave you? Not return to her husband, my lord?”

“Well, not at present.”

“Ah, that’s another matter. Not at present perhaps, but what causes you to arrive at such a conclusion?”

“I will tell you; her master passion is vanity. She is good in every sense of the word as far as I can judge, but she has more vanity than affection.”

“My lord, I trust not.”

“Do you? then I think you will be disappointed. I have known women—​women of our own race too—​who would have laughed all wealth to scorn, who would have sacrificed anything, given up their lives, for their love—​women of noble nature who would have trampled all the allurements of wealth under foot, but Aveline is of a lighter nature. I have made a study of her character. Her master passion is vanity.”

“I shouldn’t have supposed so.”

“But it is, Chicknell. She will stay with me because I can administer to her vanity, and her husband cannot. Now do you understand?”

“If it be so I am sorry for it, my lord. But assuming it is—​I will assume you are better informed on the subject than myself—​assuming it is, that is no reason for her being so tempted, no reason for her to be estranged from the husband she loves, or did love, I suppose.”

“Yes, I believe she did and, indeed, does.”

“Well, then, it seems an act of injustice, not to say cruelty, to separate man and wife by any such means.”

“There is one thing you and I can’t agree upon, Chicknell.”

“What is that, my lord?”

“You are a radical, and are a self-elected champion of the lower orders. I am not. I have no sympathy with people of that order. You have, I suppose.”

“I have sympathy with every class, high and low, if they be honest and good members of their class.”

“Enough of this!” exclaimed the old nobleman, angrily.

I have done, my lord,” exclaimed the lawyer. “You sent for me. I presume it was in reference to business matters.”

“It was.”

“I am at your service.”

“It is essential to my happiness—​my peace of mind—​that this young creature should remain with me—​be my adopted. I have not many more years to live; but I cannot part with Aveline. You will say I am selfish, perhaps—​that does not much concern me; but you will admit, with all your radical notions, that it is not seemly—​not consistent with the ordinary usages of society—​that a scion of the house of Ethalwood should be mated to a common, low-bred workman. It is, in point of fact, most intolerable.”

“It is unfortunate, I admit,” said the man of parchment; “but the contract took place before you were even acquainted with your grand-daughter, and I do not see very well how it can be rescinded.”

“It can be rescinded, and must be!” exclaimed the earl, with sudden vehemence.

“Mr. Chicknell, you know what I want.”

“Ah—​a divorce!”

“That’s my meaning. Now you are talking like a sensible man. A divorce—​how is it to be effected?”

The lawyer shook his head.

“There is no possible plea for such a course of action. Can’t be done.”

“It can’t?”

“No.”

“You must manage it by some means; I will accede to any terms. See this workman; propose a legal separation to him. Offer him what you like; fellows of his nature are always to be had for money. Every man has his price; put the question home to him—​say I will agree to settle upon him a large yearly stipend for the remainder of his life, that furthermore his son will be heir to the title and estates of Ethalwood, that his wife will be mistress of Broxbridge Hall, and move in the best society. All this to be done upon one condition—​that he consents to a divorce, and does not trouble us any further.”

“Ah! this is as you would wish it to be. There is, however, I fear, one insurmountable difficulty in the way. The young engineer loves his wife too much to part with her.”

The earl bounced up from his seat in a perfect fury.

“Pshaw!” he ejaculated. “Are you mad, Chicknell? Do you suppose that men of his stamp have any fine feelings? Do you imagine that they would let them—​assuming they had such—​stand in the way of their own advancement? But that we have to see. All I want you to do is to try. Make the proposition to him. You can do that, I suppose?”

“I can do it of course; but it is early yet. Besides, what about your grand-daughter? If she objects, there is an end of the matter.”

“True. Yes, that is true enough. But she won’t object after I have made known my wishes.”

“Possibly not; but it would not be wise to move in the matter for the present. When the matter is a little more advanced, and you have ascertained that your grand-daughter will offer no obstacle, then I will see what I can do with her husband. If he consents to resign her, he is not the man I take him to be; and I must tell you frankly that I do not like the task, which, however, I will perform to the best of my ability.”

“She will have to give up her husband, or give up all claims upon me,” said Lord Ethalwood. “Understand that most clearly.”

“I understand, my lord,” returned Mr. Chicknell.