Kitabı oku: «By Birth a Lady», sayfa 14

Volume Two – Chapter Fifteen.
The Young Ladies

Ella Bedford might well be excused for looking with astonished eyes at the three juveniles to whom she was expected to teach deportment in connection with music and language – British and foreign; for the first that presented herself was a square-shaped child of about six, very red-eyed and smudgy from the application of a pair of grubby fists to remove the tears not yet dry, evidently on account of the absence of a pocket-handkerchief, which absence was also plainly otherwise manifested.

Number two, about a year and a half older, was a young lady gifted with a perpetual sniff, in which she indulged as she stood and stared at the new governess, an operation she was abetted in by number three, a young lady of ten, with tousley hair, and an inclination to rub one ear with a bony bare shoulder, which was continually hitching itself out of the loose shoulder-straps, and rising up as its owner gave herself a writhe, and then lolled against the drawing-room table, which creaked audibly at the infliction.

“This, my dears,” said Mrs Marter, pointing at Ella with her gold eyeglass, and speaking in an imposing showman-like voice, as if she was exhibiting some new curiosity – “this, my dears, is Miss Bedford, your new governess. Eleonora, you may shake hands with her.”

Thus adjured, Eleonora, the eldest and tousley of head, gave her shoulder a hitch out of the straps, and sulkily held out a hand elegantly veined and marbled from the want of saponaceous applications.

“Alicia, you may shake hands with your new governess,” said Mrs Marter again, evidently addressing the second daughter, who did not move. “Alicia, did you hear me? Go and shake hands with your new instructress.”

“Sha’n’t?” said Alicia, twisting her feet about so as to loosen a shoe, and sniffing directly afterwards in a defiant manner.

“What do I hear?” exclaimed Mrs Marter. “Go correctly, and shake hands with Miss Bedford!”

“Shan’t!” said Alicia, tucking her hands behind her, and sniffing again abundantly, as she, to show her dislike to governesses in general, made what is termed “a face” at the new-comer – that is to say, she contracted the skin of her little snub nose, half-closed her eyes, and lolled out her tongue in a most prepossessing manner; though Ella, not being of the medical profession, could very well have dispensed with the last attention.

“Alicia, I’ve told you before that that is very coarse and vulgar,” said Mrs Marter mildly, for the young lady’s back being turned, she did not see the physiognomical contortions. “You must not say ‘sha’n’t!’ but, if you do not wish to shake hands with Miss Bedford: ‘I would rather not,’ or, ‘I do not wish to do so.’ – Selina, my darling, you will do as mamma tells you – won’t you? Now, my love, you go and shake hands with your new governess.”

Ella took a step forward, and held out her hand, when mamma’s darling’s face contracted, and directly after she spat fiercely at the new-comer, and then ran howling behind the sofa.

“Naughty Seliny – naughty Seliny!” said Mrs Marter. “You see, Miss Bedford, you are strange to them yet. They will know you better soon.”

“I sha’n’t do no lessons,” said Alicia defiantly; “and I’ve burnt my book.”

“Fie, fie!” said Mrs Marter sweetly.

“Licy pushed me downstairs, mar,” said the darling behind the sofa.

“No, I didn’t,” shouted Alicia; “she tumbled.”

“There’s a big story!” cried Eleonora. “She put her hands on her back, mar, and pushed her as hard as she could – ”

Smack!

“Boo – boo – bo – oh!”

Before Miss Eleonora had finished her sentence, her sweet sister had smitten her upon the mouth so sharply, that her lip bled, and she burst forth into a loud howl.

“There, my dears, I cannot have this to-day. – Miss Bedford, be kind enough to see them into the schoolroom. – There, it’s of no use, Selina; if you will not go, you must be carried. – There, for goodness’ sake, Miss Bedford, what are you thinking about? Take her up in your arms and carry her.”

Ella obeyed; for Miss Selina had refused to leave the room, clinging tightly to mamma’s skirts till she was carried off, fighting furiously, and slapping and scratching at her bearer’s face in such a way that, could Charley Vining have been a spectator, he would have been frantic.

“Never mind her scratching,” said the eldest girl; “she always does like that. This way.”

And in a few moments more Ella was able to deposit her precious charge in the schoolroom, where, set free, the sweet innocent revenged herself again by spitting, till the upper housemaid was summoned, and led Ella to her own room.

“I pity you, miss, I do,” said the woman kindly. “You’re no more fit to manage them young rips than nothing. They’re spoilt in the drawing-room, and encouraged in everything.”

“Thank you,” said Ella gently; “you mean kindly, I am sure; but pray say no more. Let me find it out by degrees.”

“Well, that’s best, certainly, miss,” said the woman, who eagerly assisted her to take off her things, and then hurried down to help get up the luggage; while Ella – did she break down and burst into weak tears?

No; smiling sadly, she determined to bear the burden that was to be hers, and nerved herself for the coming battle; so that when the housemaid returned and helped uncord the luggage, she was rewarded with a sweet and cheerful smile, which was repeated when she said she would go down and make Miss Bedford a cup of tea.

Ten minutes later, when, after coaxing the kettle to boil with a few pieces of bundle London fire-wood, she was making that infusion that is considered by the fair sex to be a balm and refreshment for every pain and fatigue, she expressed herself loudly to her fellow-servants, to the effect that “that was quite an angel they had got upstairs. But it’s my belief,” she added, “that the poor thing don’t know what she’s got to put up with.”

Volume Two – Chapter Sixteen.
Change of Scene

It was not until Ella had been gone a fortnight that Charley Vining learned the news of her departure; as it happened, upon the same day that it was brought home to Max Bray that his visits to Laneton were of no effect.

But he was shrewd, was Max Bray; and encountering Charley directly after, and reading his disappointment in his face, he assumed an air of perfect contentment himself, played with the ring upon his watch-chain, and passed his rival with a mocking smile.

Five minutes after, Charley was at Copse Hall face to face with Edward the hard, who encountered him with a shake of the head.

“Show me in to your mistress,” said Charley hoarsely; and it was done.

Mrs Brandon was seated working, but she rose, evidently much agitated, as her visitor entered to catch her hands in his, and look imploringly in her face.

“I have only just learned the news,” he said. “Dear Mrs Brandon, you know why I have come! Be pitiful! See how I suffer! Tell me where she is gone!”

“I cannot,” was the gentle reply, as, with a mother’s tenderness, Mrs Brandon pressed him back into a seat. “You forget that I have given my word to Sir Philip.”

Charley groaned bitterly.

“You are all against me!” he cried reproachfully. “You measure me by others. You do not know the depth of my feelings towards her. You all think that in a few days – a month – a year – all will be forgotten; but, Mrs Brandon, it grows upon me with the obstacles I encounter. But you will at least tell me to what part of England she has gone?”

Mrs Brandon shook her head.

“It was her wish – her express wish – that her retreat should not be known, Mr Vining; and, in addition to what I promised to your father, I must respect that wish.”

Charley looked sternly at her for a moment, and then rose, and without a word left the room; Mrs Brandon following him with a sympathising look, till the door closed upon him.

“I must be a boy – a simple boy!” muttered Charley fiercely; “for they treat me as such. My father, this Mrs Brandon, and even Max Bray laugh at me! But,” he muttered fiercely, “I may be a boy; but these bitternesses will soon make me a man – such a man as they do not dream of! Give her up? Yes, when I see her in Max Bray’s arms – not before!”

Then he laughed, almost lightly, at the utter impossibility of such a termination, and returned to Blandfield after vainly trying to obtain information at the Laneton station of Ella’s whereabouts. He could find that a young lady answering his description had taken a ticket for London; that was all; and in spite of his laugh of assurance, that was all the information that had so far been obtained by Max Bray.

But there are ways and means of finding all who play at hide and seek; England, as a rule, proving to be too small a place to conceal those who are diligently sought.

Max Bray knew that well enough; and returning to town, he sat tapping his white teeth as he made his plans; on the whole feeling very well satisfied at the change in the base of operations, since, in spite of his hippopotamus hide, he was beginning to be a little annoyed at the notice taken of his visits to Laneton. Old women were in the habit of thrusting their heads out of their cottage doors to watch him; servant-girls would titter; and on more than one countenance of the male sex there would often be a stolid grin.

It was satisfactory, then, on the whole, for London presented many advantages to a scheming mind; but the first thing to be found out was whether Ella were in London.

Max was seated in one of the windows of his club, as he ran over his arrangements; then rising, he ordered a cab, and drove away, ignorant of the fact that the hall boy was imitating his gestures for the benefit of the porter, who was convulsed with laughter.

That same day, without a word to Sir Philip, Charley started for town.

A week later, and, to his surprise, Charley Vining, who was staying at Long’s, involuntarily raised his hat as the Brays’ carriage passed him, with Mrs Bray and Laura on the back seat, Nelly and a stranger on the front. So introspective was Charley as he stood upon the hotel steps, that the carriage would have passed him unnoticed if a loud shrill voice had not shouted his name, when, starting and looking up, he saw Nelly, flushed and excited, leaning over the side of the barouche, as if ready to jump into his arms. But the carriage passed on; and though by a little exertion he might easily have overtaken it in the crowded street, beyond raising his hat, Charley made no movement.

Ten minutes after, an empty hansom passing, Charley hailed it, gave his orders, and was soon being spun along through the streets, thinking over the encounter he had just had, and wondering whether Sir Philip Vining would be the next to make his appearance.

“To see what I am doing!” said Charley bitterly. And then his thoughts reverted to the past, and he came to the conclusion that it does not fall to the lot of any of us to pass a life of uninterrupted happiness, such as his had been until he first set eyes upon Ella.

“Branksome-street, sir?” cried the driver through his little trap-door. “Number nineteen, sir?”

“How did you know that I wanted number nineteen?” said Charley pettishly; “I did not name a number.”

“Lor’ bless you, sir, this makes, I should think, a score of times I’ve been here in the course of a couple of years’ hansom-driving. I never come wunst when it was a growler I druv. You want number nineteen, sir – private-inkviry orfice – that’s what you want.”

“And how did you know that?” said Charley, who could not help feeling amused.

“How did I know that, sir?” grinned the man. “It’s a sort of instinkt, sir, as is only possessed by drivers of kebs. Here you are, sir – number nineteen. Up on the first floor for Mr Whittrick.”

Charley leaped out, ran up the stairs indicated; and directly after he was in the office of Mr Whittrick, of private-inquiry celebrity.

Volume Two – Chapter Seventeen.
Private-Inquiry

Waiting your turn in a dull cheerless room along with half a dozen more people who always seem oil to your water or vice versa, so as to insure non-mixing, is about one of the most unpleasant things in life. It is bad enough at the doctor’s, where you sit and wonder what is the matter with your neighbours right or left, and whether their complaints are infectious; but at a private-inquiry office at a busy time it is ten times worse. There is such a general disposition evinced by everybody to turn his back on everybody else; an act which the actor soon finds out to be an utter impossibility; for though he gets on very well with respect to two or three, he soon finds that, however clever a mathematician he may be, he cannot place himself in the required position; and, as a matter of course, he turns rusty, and resents the presence of the other waiters – waiters, of course not in the hotel and coffee-room sense of the term.

To do Charley Vining justice, he was as ill-tempered as any one present; but he refrained from showing it, and tried to tranquillise his mind into a state of wonderment as to the business of others present. Was there any one seeking the address of some daughter or sister very dear? – was any one moved by the tender passion? It did not seem like it, judging from the countenances around.

One lady of vinegary aspect was evidently in search of a husband who had vanished; while on the other side was a little squeezy mild man, who might have come on a similar errand respecting a wife. The gentleman in speckless black, with papers in his hand tied with red tape, looked legal, and took snuff or pounce frequently from a small box, which he tapped with considerable grace, so as to bring the dust from the corner into a heap in the centre. His mission was evidently respecting a legatee, heir-at-law, administrator, executor, or assign, whose presence was necessary for the completion of some deed, document, or preamble as aforesaid.

What a wheezy stout man wanted was doubtful; but it was evident that the quiet-looking unassuming man who came out softly from the inner sanctum, and in one glance took down and mentally recorded all who were present, had something to do with order as well as law.

And it was so, in fact; for the quiet unassuming man was Mr Orger, of the detective department of Great Scotland-yard, who, after a fortnight of unavailing search for some gentleman who was wanted, did not think it derogatory to his dignity to seek counsel – on the principle of two heads being better than one – from his old friend and fellow-inspector Mr Whittrick, of the detective force formerly, but now professionally engaged upon his own account.

Charley’s turn at last, just as he had come to the conclusion that he would wait no longer, but call another day, when there were not so many private inquirers.

Obeying a signal, he was shown into a well-furnished room with a couple of tables, at one of which, whose top was covered with papers, sat a very ordinary-looking man, in a black-velvet cap; at the other, which bore a telegraphic dial, were a couple of clerks busily writing.

“Perhaps you will step this way,” said the man of the black-velvet cap, mentally photographing his visitor the while; and Charley followed him to an inner room, where, taking the seat offered, he paid certain fees and stated his case.

“Young lady – deep mourning – fair – grey eyes – luxuriant hair,” muttered the private-inquiry high-priest, as he took notes during Charley’s explanations, trying hard to suppress a smile as he saw his client’s earnestness. “Came up from Laneton on the 9th, to the South Midland Terminus,” he continued.

“Well, Mr Vining?”

“Well,” said Charley, “I must have her address found!”

“The information you give is very meagre, sir,” said Mr Whittrick quietly.

“It is, I know,” said Charley impetuously: “but I must have that address.

“Here,” he exclaimed, drawing out his porte-monnaie and placing a couple of crisp new ten-pound notes upon the table, “do not stand for expense. That is all I have with me; but tell me what you require, and you shall have it.”

“Thanks, sir,” said Mr Whittrick quietly, as he transferred the notes to his pocket-book, after entering the transaction and the numbers in a book. “But you give us the credit of great powers, sir.”

“Well,” said Charley, “you have great powers: telegraphy and a cordon of spies, I have no doubt. All you require is something to set the mechanism at work, and I tell you frankly I am ready to supply that something liberally.”

“You would not consider those two notes ill spent for a little certain information, I suppose, sir?”

“No, nor double!” said Charley hastily.

“Good,” said Mr Whittrick; and rising, he took a whistle from the mouth of a speaking-tube in the wall, whispered a few words, and then applied his ear.

The answer came in half a minute; and then he gave some other order, replugged the tube, and sitting down, made some remark touching the present ministry.

“But I am keeping you,” said Charley, who took the remark as an intimation that he might go. “Tell me when I may come again?” he said, rising.

“Stop a bit – stop a bit, Mr Vining: I never like doing things in a hurry. Let’s economise time; and we can now you are here,” said Mr Whittrick. “It may save my sending to Long’s Hotel, and wasting time, and men, and cab-hire, and perhaps not then to find you. I shall have a reply directly to a question I have asked. And, besides, you have entirely omitted to give me the young lady’s age and name. – Ah, Smith, that will do,” he said, as a clerk entered the room with a sheet of paper.

The clerk left the room; and then, after running through the manuscript note, Mr Whittrick took out a double eyeglass, rubbed it leisurely, and then fixed it by its spring upon the bridge of his nose.

“You’d be surprised, Mr Vining,” he said, “what a deal of difficulty I have to get clerks who write a plain legible hand. I’m a terrible scrawler myself; but then my writing has to keep up with my thoughts, and has to struggle hard, with the certainty of failure always before it. But my clerks are well paid to do nothing else but copy; and really at times, either from hurry or carelessness, their stuff is almost undecipherable. But let me see; I think I have managed this, though.”

“Is that anything relating to my search?” said Charley excitedly.

“Stop a minute, my dear sir, and we’ll see,” said Mr Whittrick; and then he held the slip of paper in his hand as if about to read aloud.

Volume Two – Chapter Eighteen.
Second-Hand

At the last words uttered by Mr Whittrick, Charley Vining started forward, and gazed at the speaker as if he would have devoured the ordinary-looking slip of paper rustling before him. It was with the greatest difficulty that he refrained from snatching the memorandum from its holder; for in every respect save one, Mr Whittrick, of the black-velvet cap, was outwardly an excessively slow man. He had crawled to the speaking-tube and crawled back, and when he took the slip of paper from the clerk, it was as if the effort was too much for him – so much, in fact, that he had hard work to wipe his double eyeglasses.

But we said that there was an exception, and this lay in Mr Whittrick’s eyes, which gave a sharpness to his whole appearance, as they twinkled and darted and played as it were, while they displayed the activity of their owner’s brains.

But, apparently satisfied that if he kept him waiting half an hour longer, Charley Vining would not say anything that would be of service for information of any kind, Mr Whittrick commenced reading:

“9th instant. Miss Ella Bedford, age about twenty; fair; grey eyes; thick braided hair —not false; height about five feet two; dressed in deep mourning; arrived by forty-five, a.m., train from Laneton. Robert Wilks, porter, Number 93, called four-wheeled cab, V.R. 09876, John Round driver. Luggage: canvas-covered box, black enamelled bag, and leather wallet, not addressed. Set down at 19 Crescent Villas, Regent’s-park – Mr Saint Clair Marter’s. Cab man paid. No farther communication; but footman averse to taking in luggage, whether from idleness or particular reasons not known; shall know shortly, if necessary. Cab returned to terminus.”

“Let me see,” continued Mr Whittrick, turning the paper on the other side. “No, that is all we know at present;” and he looked at Charley, who, mute with astonishment, was staring hard at him.

“Why, good heavens! how did you know that?” he cried. “That is all I wanted to know.”

“At present – at present!” said Mr Whittrick, with a smile.

“But I expected days of waiting and anxiety,” cried Charley, eagerly seizing the paper.

“Possibly,” said Mr Whittrick; “but there are times, you see, when we are speedy in our movements.”

“But I am astounded!” cried Charley. “You make me almost to believe in magicians.”

Mr Whittrick smiled deprecatingly and shrugged his shoulders.

“How did you obtain the information?” cried Charley.

“My dear sir,” said Mr Whittrick, “that is my profession. If you go to a doctor and he gives you a prescription which cures you, do you ask him how he discovered his drugs? Of course not. You came to me for assistance, and showed me that you were ready to pay liberally for that assistance, and, of course, I set to work instanter.”

“But is that – are you sure – that Miss – that the young lady is there?”

“Certainly not,” said Mr Whittrick; “some time has passed since then. But I am ready to make affidavit that she was there. Now then, sir, what can I do for you next?”

“Nothing more,” said Charley; “I am quite satisfied.”

“Do I understand you to say you consider my efforts sufficient?”

“Quite,” said Charley.

“Very good, my dear sir,” said Mr Whittrick; “then all I can say is, that it has been a most satisfactory interview for both parties; only recollect that you may want me again, and that you have paid me so liberally, that there is a large balance in your favour, which I am ready to devote to you at a moment’s notice.”

“You would rather not inform me how you obtained that information, I presume?” said Charley, turning on the threshold, to display to the high-priest of private-inquiry a thoroughly mystified countenance.

“Quite out of the question,” said Mr Whittrick, smiling; and the next minute Charley was bowed out, to descend the stairs, taking no heed of the scowls of those who had been kept waiting during the long interview.

“Where to next, sir?” said a voice; and Charley started to find that the cabman, who had not been paid, was naturally enough waiting the return of his fare.

“19 Crescent Villas, Regents-park,” said Charley abstractedly; but the next moment he had altered his mind, and changed his order for Long’s Hotel, where he arrived elate, but confused, so utterly incomprehensible seemed the power of the private inquirer.

Light came through at last, and seemed to cut through his brain with a sharp pang. It was all plain enough now: another had been seeking information, even as he had sought it, and the news he had obtained was only second-hand. But who had been beforehand with him, while he had been wasting time with his own ineffectual unassisted efforts?

There was no need for much consideration. The reply to his question was quick enough in arriving, burdened too with bitterness: and the answer was —

“Max Bray!”