Читать книгу My Lord of Wrybourne - John Jeffery Farnol - Страница 12

Table of Contents

Cecily, Lady Scrope, was burgling her own desk. Stealthily and with tremulous fingers she inserted key in lock; silently as any furtive, guilty wretch, she opened a certain drawer, took thence a bundle of folded papers—then, warned by some fearful sense, started and, glancing round, beheld the husband she had believed deep in drunken slumber, watching her from beyond the half-opened door.

"Thought I was asleep, eh, sweetheart?" he demanded, entering and closing the door with needless violence. "B'lieved I was drunk, but I'm not—much! Not enough to 'llow you t' cheat me——"

"Oh, Ralph," she sighed, distressfully, "how can you say or even think it of me, when you know——"

"Those are th' deeds o' Wrexford property, ain't they?"

"Yes, Ralph, but——"

"Well, I want em, m'dearest."

"No!" she answered, clasping the papers instinctively to her bosom. "We mustn't ... you cannot, shall not have them——"

"Ah! And why not, m'lady?"

"Because, as you know, we promised Sam——"

"Eh, Sam?" repeated his lordship, scornfully. "If you mean m'damned cousin, use his right name and call him Japhet."

"No, Ralph," said she, gently. "Oh no; I have always called him Sam and always shall. And I must not give you these deeds because we both promised him——"

"Ay, but you can, m'dear, and you will."

"No!" she repeated, in the same gentle way. "No, Ralph dear, I cannot and never shall——"

"Listen, Cecily! Am I your husband or not?"

"Yes, yes, of course you are."

"Then, do you belong to me or don't you?"

"Yes, Ralph, yes—now and ever, like I always have and always must."

"Very well then, m'dearest, by law—all of you and yours, yes, everything you are and own—is mine! So now, Sweetheart, give me those deeds of mine."

"Ah, Ralph, no!" she pleaded. "Ask me for anything else, yes—anything except these papers, for give them to you——Oh, I can't and won't——"

"Ha, because of Japhet?"

"Yes, because of Sam."

"Then curse him——"

"No, Ralph, don't—don't, for shame! How can you after all he has done for us? But for Sam's goodness you would still be in that debtor's prison,—yes, at this very moment you would and I, with never a penny to help you, should be breaking my poor heart for you like I was till Sam made me rich——"

"Enough, enough—for God's sake!"

"Yes, for dear God's sake, Ralph, be always grateful to Sam for saving us from——"

"Oh, damme, but I'm sick o' the fellow's name! So will you ha' done with it?"

"No—I will not!" she retorted, her blue eyes ablaze. "No, I won't be done along o' Sam—not never and nohow!"

"Well," he sneered, "at least mind your grammar."

"What's my grammar matter?" she demanded, her splendid form endued now with a native majesty. "'Tis your wicked ingratitude shames you and me too—when you know that everything we own, yes, and all that we are is owing to Sam. You know all this, of course you do, and you can't ha' forgot. And now Sam wants to buy old Wrexford Mill to do away with that—oh, that deadly, murderous pool as has been death to so many in its time—and so he shall! So this is why I can't and won't give you the deeds."

"Then, damme, I must take them!"

"No ... Ralph dear, please don't try because ... if you do ... I'm afraid I might——" Her lips quivered and were mute.

"Well, what might you do?"

"Hurt you, Ralph."

"You?" he cried, scornfully. "Try!" And he leapt....

And now in this spacious chamber yet haunted by memories of his evil sire, there befell a hateful scene to shame the day,—a struggle between calmly resolute wife and furiously determined husband; his grip was cruel, yet she endured unflinching and with no complaint until at last, finding him utterly remorseless, she uttered a broken, despairing cry and, using all her splendid strength, hurled him so violently that he reeled backward to the wall to lean there, breathless, shaken, but with the deeds in his clutch.

"Egad ... Cecily," he panted, "you're grand ... a right glorious ... woman——"

"But—you," she gasped. "Oh Ralph ... Ralph ... what are you?" Then with such look in those great eyes of hers as he had never seen before, she turned and left him to the triumph that now shamed him almost beyond endurance. Rigid and motionless he stood gazing remorsefully upon the closed door until, becoming aware of the papers in his hand, he dashed them to the floor and set his foot upon them, and thus, stared at that closed door again like one quite horror-stricken. At last he turned and, coming to that ornate desk whereat his father had once talk so placidly concerning the necessity of murder,[1] he sank down there, miserable head between clenched fists, grieving for his wife, her broken cry, the strange look in her eyes 'ere the closing door shut her away from him. Small wonder now if she hated him ... scorned him. And yet could such love as hers ever die? Could she ever come to hate him, his gentle, too-loving Cecily who was always so ready to forgive? Good God, suppose he lost her—how ever could he endure life without her—his Cecily? These and many other thoughts so tormented him that, after some while, unable to endure them any longer, he rose, minded to seek her and humbly plead forgiveness. His hand was upon the door-latch when, becoming aware of a gentle though pertinacious tapping on the window, he turned, scowling, to see Viscount Twily smiling in at him through the open lattice and, the casement being wide and low, in he came thereby, saying as he did so:

"Is this permitted? However, my dear lord, here I am and sincerely hopeful that I don't intrude."

"Eh, no,—oh no!" answered Ralph, shaking his woeful head in such dazed, helpless manner that the Viscount's smile widened and his voice became almost caressing as he enquired:

"My dear Scrope,—nothing wrong, I trust?"

"Wrong?" echoed Ralph. "Certainly not! Why d'you ask?"

"Simply that you appear a leetle—shall we say—agitated? Perhaps I startled you?"

"No,—yes, you were dev'lish sudden, Viscount."

"Then behold me all humble apology. But I happened to be in the vicinity and hoping I might be so fortunate as to find you and your most gracious lady at home. Yes, I had hoped for the pleasure of your lady's company if merely for the extreme joy of kissing her hand,—but, alas, it seems I am not to be so fortunate!"

"How d'ye mean, sir?"

"That she is at present in the enjoyment of perhaps more agreeable company, more attractive perhaps than my poor self."

"Viscount, what the devil d'you mean?"

"That your gracious lady is at this moment blessing a far happier man——"

"Damme, sir, be plain! What are you tryin' to tell me?"

"Simply that Lady Scrope is riding with your noble cousin, the Earl. And, 'pon my life, a splendid pair they make! Indeed and indeed my Lady Scrope is a magnificent figure on horseback—ah, happy, happy man!"

"Who is?"

"My dear Scrope, who but her thrice blessed husband, for, as I say, your lady——"

"Is my wife, sir, so by your leave we'll change the subject."

"As you will, my dear fellow, though for my part,—but as you will. Let us then from subject beauteous change to subject quite the reverse,—business, Scrope, which I detest. Heigh-ho! Well, can those be the deeds of that Wrexford property yonder on your desk, laid out for my perusal and acceptance?"

"No,—yes, yes, they are, but—on second thoughts, well—I don't think I'll part with the property."

"But—I say, my dear man, it was so agreed, and you can't go back on your word! Besides——" From the breast of his modish coat the Viscount drew a bulky wallet from which he extracted a sheaf of bank-notes which he laid before Ralph with graceful turn of wrist, saying:

"Three hundred pounds was the price agreed, my lord."

"Well, yes—but——"

"Three hundred for that dismal marsh is an excellent price, you must admit?"

"Yes,—yes it is, of course. And yet ..." Slowly, almost unwillingly, Ralph touched these notes, took them up rather as if they might have stung him, and instinctively began to count them. Seeing which, the Viscount smiled and put away his wallet, saying, as he did so:

"And now, my lord Ralph, since I, or rather we, are denied the pleasure of your lady's company, I'll bid you 'Good day'—unless you care to ride with me so far as the Wrybourne Arms; the Burgundy, as you'll remember, is surprisingly good and the port eminently drinkable. Come, what do you say?"

"No, thanks—and yet—yes, I will," answered Ralph, and, thrusting the notes carelessly into pocket, he rang and ordered his horse. Thus in a while these ill-sorted companions mounted and rode away through the afternoon sunshine, and of course began to talk, or rather the Viscount did as thus:

"My dear lord, may I take it that you incline to share my sentiments and regard me in the light of friendship?"

And after keen side glance and momentary hesitation, Ralph answered:

"Oh yes, certainly!"

"Splendid, my dear Scrope! For between you and me and my Lais here, I find things damnably dull. Sir Robert Chalmers, as you may have noticed when I made you known, is scarcely a glad and joyous soul or cheerful company. So much so indeed that until my return to Town I am residing at the Wrybourne Arms. And the word 'Wrybourne' reminds me naturally of your noble cousin—the Earl."

"What of him, Viscount?"

"Ah, no no, my dear fellow,—no! If we are to be the friends I hope and desire, pray know me henceforth as your friend Raymond. Agreed?"

"Yes—Raymond."

"Excellent! This emboldens me to enquire if it is the fact that your noble cousin was once no better than a common seaman?"

"Yes. But that's no disparagement, for he was a right good seaman and rose to commanding rank—and besides, an English seaman, being so, is—well—second to none."

"Nobly said, my dear Ralph, and admirably true! Yet what stupendous change of fortune! How vastly romantic! Just consider,—a tarry mariner with a pigtail one day, the next—a powerful nobleman enormously wealthy and, of course, extremely popular and—ah yes—adored by women—the sex!"

"Oh? What women?"

"All women—or most. For rumour tells how no woman can possibly resist him, that he has but to beckon the happy, chosen one and—she is in his arms——"

"Eh? Cousin Japhet? Gammon! He's no lady's man, no squire o' dames, not he!"

"Why should you so imagine?"

"Well, he don't look the part, nor act the part—no graces of deportment or pretty tricks o' speech, nor he ain't handsome o' face——"

"And therefore the more—dangerous!"

"How so? What the devil——"

"Precisely, dear fellow, he is, on good authority, the devil and all of a fellow, being so infernally and supremely—male! And, Ralph, with the sex, the fair—the frail, that is more devilish alluring and irresistible than all your good looks and pretty manners!"

"Ha, d'ye think so?"

"Ralph, I know it! And consequently rejoice that I am not married to a gloriously handsome wife—with my lord the Earl for neighbour!"

"What are you hinting at?"

"Nothing, dear fellow, nothing! I merely state a fact, or rather my certain belief that beauty may be cold as ice and chaste as snow and yet must melt before such masculine volcanoes as certain of our species—lucky dogs! Ah well, well, let us change the subject."

"Yes," muttered Ralph, "we'd better!"

"Then, dear fellow, this Wrybourne heritage, this vast wealth which, but for damnable trick o' fate, you would now be enjoying—eh?"

"True enough!" answered Ralph, frowning. "My father so expected and I was bred up to believe so."

"Ah, my poor, dear friend, then let me condole with you on so narrowly missing it, a mere question of inches, Ralph!"

"Eh, inches? What the devil d'ye mean?"

"Death of course, my dear fellow."

"Eh—eh—death——? Who—who has—what d'ye mean?" stammered Ralph and with such dreadful look that the Viscount, instantly suspicious, pressed him with further question—though very gently:

"What do you suspect, I mean, Ralph?"

"How—damme, how should I know?" he retorted, sullenly.

"I—wonder!" murmured the Viscount, smiling. "However, to answer your question,—two or three inches either way, and Sir Robert's sword would have been through your cousin's heart instead of—merely his arm!"

"Ah, you mean that duel,—you saw it?"

"Of course! I was Sir Robert's chief second—'twas a ridiculous affair—cutlasses! Yet it was hell and fury while it lasted, I can assure you. We all thought Wrybourne was done for, the odds were all against him, but—fortune or chance decreed otherwise——"

"Yes, he cut Chalmers' hand off!"

"He did, my poor, dear fellow, and with that same blow—cut you out of your heritage! So, alas, your luck was completely out! Aha,—but yonder is our inn where noble cheer awaits us to warm our hearts and gladden our souls. So come, my dear fellow, let us pledge and cement our friendship in the best of all ways—come!"

And the wine was indeed so good that the Viscount sipped with a deliberate enjoyment while Ralph quaffed thirstily.

Thus the Viscount sipped and talked while Ralph, for the most part, drank and listened—to such effect that when at last these now boon companions parted, he rode homewards with his lithe, powerful body swaying in the saddle and comely head bowed as though very drowsy—but—in his consciousness the seeds of those evils that were to germinate to his own future misery and grief.

He had ridden thus some distance, plagued already by new suspicions that to his now befuddled mind became ever more vile and dreadfully real, when he was roused by a voice hailing him and, glancing up, beheld another horseman approaching.

"Eh?" he demanded, peering. "Mr. Standish—is it?"

"That same, my lord. Rode over with message from th' Countess——"

"Ha—yes! Japhet's wife. An-a nangeldromeda, to b'sure, yes. But what o' my wife—what?"

"The Countess sends compliments and so on, and bids m'inform you Lady Scrope will remain—sleep at Wrybourne t'night."

"Will remain, hey? Will? And whether I will or no, eh? Will remain! And sleep without any 'by y'r leave' o' my part! But then, of course, I'm only a husband ... t'be laughed at like all the others.... Yes, damme, and I'll be first to laugh—ha ha! And so, very well, sir, very well, tell 'em I laughed too, with 'em and—at 'em! Good day, t'ye!"

Spurring his horse, Ralph galloped furiously away like the now haunted man he was, for beside him went those vicious demons whose names are Jealousy and Hate.