Kitabı oku: «Cursed by a Fortune», sayfa 2
Chapter Four
“Will that Doctor never come!” muttered plump Mrs Wilton, who had been for the past ten minutes running from her niece’s bedside to one of the front casement windows of the fine old Kentish Manor House, to watch the road through the park. “He might have come from London by this time. There, it’s of no use; it’s fate, and fate means disappointment. She’ll die; I’m sure she’ll die, and all that money will go to those wretched Morrisons. Why did he go out to the farms this morning? Any other morning would have done; and Claud away, too. Was ever woman so plagued? – Yes, what is it? Oh, it’s you, Eliza. How is she?”
“Quite insensible, ma’am. Is the Doctor never coming?”
“Don’t ask me, Eliza. I sent the man over in the dog-cart, with instructions to bring him back.”
“Then pray, pray come and stay with me in the bedroom, ma’am.”
“But I can’t do anything, Eliza, and it isn’t as if she were my own child. I couldn’t bear to see her die.”
“Mrs Wilton!” cried the woman, wildly. “Oh, my poor darling young mistress, whom I nursed from a babe – die!”
“Here’s master – here’s Mr Wilton,” cried the rosy-faced lady from the window, and making a dash at a glass to see that her cap was right, she hurried out of the room and down the broad oaken stairs to meet her lord at the door.
“Hallo, Maria, what’s the matter?” he cried, meeting her in the hall, his high boots splashed with mud, and a hunting whip in his hand.
“Oh, my dear, I’m so glad you’ve come! Kate – fainting fits – one after the other – dying.”
“The devil! What have you done?”
“Cold water – vinegar – burnt – ”
“No, no. Haven’t you sent for the Doctor?”
“Yes, I sent Henry with the dog-cart to fetch Mr Leigh.”
“Mr Leigh! Were you mad? What do you know about Mr Leigh? Bah, you always were a fool!”
“Yes, my dear, but what was I to do? It would have taken three hours to get – Oh, here he is.”
For there was the grating of carriage wheels on the drive, the dog-cart drew up, and Pierce Leigh sprang down and entered the hall.
Mrs Wilton glanced timidly at her husband, who gave her a sulky nod, and then turned to the young Doctor.
“My young niece – taken bad,” he said, gruffly, “You’d better go up and see her. Here, Maria, take him up.”
Unceremonious; but businesslike, and Leigh showed no sign of resentment, but with a peculiar novel fluttering about the region of the heart he followed the lady, who, panting the while, led the way upstairs, and breathlessly tried to explain how delicate her niece was, and how after many days of utter despondency, she had suddenly been seized with an attack of hysteria, which had been succeeded by fit after fit.
The next minute they were in the handsome bedroom at the end of a long, low corridor, where, pale as death, and with her maid – erst nurse – kneeling by her and fanning her, Kate Wilton, in her simple black, lay upon a couch, looking as if the Doctor’s coming were too late.
He drew a deep breath, and set his teeth as he sank on one knee by the insensible figure, which he longed with an intense longing to clasp to his breast. Then his nerves were strung once more, and he was the calm, professional man giving his orders, as he made his examination and inspired aunt and nurse with confidence, the latter uttering a sigh of relief as she opened the window, and obeyed sundry other orders, the result being that at the end of half an hour the sufferer, who twice over unclosed her eyes, and responded to her aunt’s questions with a faint smile, had sunk into the heavy sleep of exhaustion.
“Better leave her now, madam,” said Leigh, softly. “Sleep is the great thing for her.” Then, turning to the maid – “You had better stay and watch by her, though she will not wake for hours.”
“God bless you, sir,” she whispered, with a look full of gratitude which made Leigh give her an encouraging smile, and he then followed Mrs Wilton downstairs.
“Really, it’s wonderful,” she said. “Thank you so much, Doctor. I’m sure you couldn’t have been nicer if you’d been quite an old man, and I really think that next time I’m ill I shall – Oh, my dear, she’s ever so much better now.”
“Humph!” ejaculated Wilton; and then he gave his wife an angry look, as she pushed him in the chest.
“Come in here and sit down, Mr Leigh. I want you to tell us all you think.”
The Doctor followed into the library, whose walls were covered with books that were never used, while, making an effort to be civil, their owner pointed to a chair and took one himself, Leigh waiting till his plump, amiable-looking hostess had subsided, and well-filled that nearest the fire.
“Found her better then?” said Wilton.
“No, sir,” said Leigh, smiling, “but she is certainly better now.”
“That’s what I meant. Nothing the matter, then. Vapours, whims, young girls’ hysterics, and that sort of thing? What did she have for breakfast, Maria?”
“Nothing at all, dear. I can’t get her to eat.”
“Humph! Why don’t you make her? Can’t stand our miserable cookery, I suppose. Well, Doctor, then, it’s a false alarm?”
“No, sir; a very serious warning.”
“Eh? You don’t think there’s danger? Here, we’d better send for some big man from town.”
“That is hardly necessary, sir, though I should be happy to meet a man of experience in consultation.”
“My word! What airs!” said Wilton, to himself.
“As far as I could I have pretty well diagnosed the case, and it is very simple. Your niece has evidently suffered deeply.”
“Terribly, Doctor; she has been heart-broken.”
“Now, my dear Maria, do pray keep your mouth shut, and let Mr Leigh talk. He doesn’t want you to teach him his business.”
“But James, dear, I only just – ”
“Yes, you always will only just! Go on, please, Doctor, and you’ll send her some medicine?”
“It is hardly a case for medicine, sir. Your niece’s trouble is almost entirely mental. Given rest and happy surroundings, cheerful female society of her own age, fresh air, moderate exercise, and the calmness and peace of a home like this, I have no doubt that her nerves will soon recover their tone.”
“Then they had better do it,” said Wilton, gruffly. “She has everything a girl can wish for. My son and I have done all we can to amuse her.”
“And I’m sure I have been as loving as a mother to her,” said Mrs Wilton.
“Yes, but you are mistaken, sir. There must be something more. I’d better take her up to town for advice.”
“By all means, sir,” said Leigh, coldly. “It might be wise, but I should say that she would be better here, with time to work its own cure.”
“Of course, I mean no disrespect to you, Mr Leigh, but you are a young man, and naturally inexperienced.”
“Now I don’t want to hurt your feelings, James,” broke in Mrs Wilton, “but it is you who are inexperienced in what young girls are. Mr Leigh has spoken very nicely, and quite understands poor Kate’s case. If you had only seen the way in which he brought her round!”
“I really do wish, Maria, that you would not interfere in what you don’t understand,” cried Wilton, irascibly.
“But I’m obliged to when I find you going wrong. It’s just what I’ve said to you over and over again. You men are so hard and unfeeling, and don’t believe there are such things as nerves. Now, I’m quite sure that Mr Leigh could do her a great deal of good, if you’d only attend to your out-door affairs and leave her to me – You grasped it all at once, Mr Leigh. Poor child, she has done nothing but fret ever since she has been here, and no wonder. Within a year she has lost both father and mother.”
“Now, Maria, Mr Leigh does not want to hear all our family history.”
“And I’m not going to tell it to him, my dear; but it’s just as I felt. It was only last night, when she had that fit of hysterical sobbing, I said to myself, Now if I had a dozen girls – as I should have liked to, instead of a boy, who is really a terrible trial to one, Mr Leigh – I should – ”
“Maria!”
“Yes, my dear; but you should let me finish. If poor dear Kate had come here and found a lot of girls she would have been as happy as the day is long. – And you don’t think she wants physic, Mr Leigh? No, no, don’t hurry away.”
“I have given you my opinion, madam,” said Leigh, who had risen.
“Yes, and I’m sure it is right. I did give her some fluid magnesia yesterday, the same as I take for my acidity – ”
“Woman, will you hold your tongue!” cried Wilton.
“No, James, certainly not. It is my duty, as poor Kate’s aunt, to do what is best for her; and you should not speak to me like that before a stranger. I don’t know what he will think. The fluid magnesia would not do her any harm, would it, Mr Leigh?”
“Not the slightest, madam; and I feel sure that with a little motherly attention and such a course of change as I prescribed, Miss Wilton will soon be well.”
“There, James, we must have the Morrison girls to stay here with her. They are musical and – ”
“We shall have nothing of the kind, Maria,” said her husband, with asperity.
“Well, I know you don’t like them, my dear, but in a case of urgency – by the way, Mr Leigh, someone told me your sister played exquisitely on the organ last Sunday because the organist was ill.”
“My sister does play,” said Leigh, coldly.
“I wish I had been at church to hear her, but my poor Claud had such a bad bilious headache I was nearly sending for you, and I had to stay at home and nurse him. I’m sure the cooking must be very bad at those cricket match dinners.”
“Now, my dear Maria, you are keeping Mr Leigh.”
“Oh, no, my dear, he was sent for to give us his advice, and I’m sure it is very valuable. By the way, Mr Leigh, why has not your sister called here?”
“I – er – really – my professional duties have left me little time for etiquette, madam, but I was under the impression that the first call should be to the new-comer.”
“Why, of course. Do sit down, James. You are only kicking the dust out of this horrid thick Turkey carpet – they are such a job to move and get beaten, Mr Leigh. Do sit down, dear; you know how it fidgets me when you will jump up and down like a wild beast in a cage.”
“Waffle!” said Mr Wilton aside.
“You are quite right, Mr Leigh; I ought to have called, but Claud does take up so much of my time. But I will call to-morrow, and then you two come up here the next day and dine with us, and I feel sure that our poor dear Kate will be quite pleased to know your sister. Tell her – no; I’ll ask her to bring some music. She seems very nice, and young girls do always get on so well together. I know she’ll do my niece a deal of good. But, of course, you will come again to-day, and keep on seeing her as much as you think necessary.”
“Really I – ” said Leigh, hesitating, and glancing resentfully at the master of the house.
“Oh, yes, come on, Mr Leigh, and put my niece right as soon as you can,” he said.
“But your regular medical attendant – Mr Rainsford, I believe?”
“You may believe he’s a pig-headed, obstinate old fool,” growled Wilton. “Wanted to take off my leg when I had a fall at a hedge, and the horse rolled over it. Simple fracture, sir; and swore it would mortify. I mortified him.”
“Yes, Mr Leigh, and the leg’s stronger now than the other,” interposed Mrs Wilton.
“How do you know, Maria?” said her husband gruffly.
“Well, my dear, you’ve often said so.”
“Humph! Come in again and see Miss Wilton, Doctor, and I shall feel obliged,” said the uncle. “Good morning. The dog-cart is waiting to drive you back. I’ll send and have you fetched about – er – four?”
“It would be better if it were left till seven or eight, unless, of course, there is need.”
“Eight o’clock, then,” said Wilton; and Pierce Leigh bowed and left the room, with the peculiar sensation growing once more in his breast, and lasting till he reached home, thinking of how long it would be before eight o’clock arrived.
Chapter Five
“I should very much like to know what particular sin I have committed that I should have been plagued all my life with a stupid, garrulous old woman for a wife, who cannot be left an hour without putting her foot in it some way or another.”
“Ah, you did not say so to me once, James,” sighed Mrs Wilton.
“No, a good many hundred times. It’s really horrible.”
“But James – ”
“There, do hold your tongue – if you can, woman. First you get inviting that young ruffian of John Garstang’s to stay when he comes down.”
“But, my dear, it was Claud. You know how friendly those two always have been.”
“Yes, to my sorrow; but you coaxed him to stay.”
“Really, my dear, I could not help it without being rude.”
“Then why weren’t you rude? Do you want him here, fooling about that girl till she thinks he loves her and marries him?”
“Oh, no, dear, it would be horrid. But you don’t think – ”
“Yes, I do, fortunately,” snapped Wilton. “Why don’t you think?”
“I do try to, my dear.”
“Bah! Try! Then you want to bring in those locusts of Morrisons. It’s bad enough to know that the money goes there if Kate dies, without having them hanging about and wanting her to go.”
“I’m very, very sorry, James. I wish I was as clever as you.”
“So do I. Then, as soon as you are checked in that, you dodge round and invite that Doctor, who’s a deuced sight too good-looking, to come again, and ask him to bring his sister.”
“But, my dear, it will do Kate so much good, and she really seems very nice.”
“Nice, indeed! I wish you were. I believe you are half mad.”
“Really, James, you are too bad, but I won’t resent it, for I want to go up to Kate; but if someone here is mad, it is not I.”
“Yes, it is. Like a weak fool I spoke plainly to you about my plans.”
“If you had always done so we should have been better off and not had to worry about getting John Garstang’s advice, with his advances and interests, and mortgages and foreclosures.”
“You talk about what you don’t understand, woman,” said Wilton, sharply. “Can’t you see that it is to our interest to keep the poor girl here? Do you want to toss her amongst a flock of vulture-like relatives, who will devour her?”
“Why, of course not, dear.”
“But you tried to.”
“I’m sure I didn’t. You said she was so ill you were afraid she’d die and slip through our fingers.”
“Yes, and all her money go to the Morrisons.”
“Oh, yes, I forgot that. But I gave in directly about not having them here; and what harm could it do if Miss Leigh came? I’m sure it would do poor Kate a lot of good.”
“And Claud, too, I suppose.”
“Claud?”
“Ugh! You stupid old woman! Isn’t she young and pretty? And artful, too, I’ll be bound; poor Doctor’s young sisters always are.”
“Are they, dear?”
“Of course they are; and before she’d been here five minutes she’d be making eyes at that boy, and you know he’s just like gunpowder.”
“James, dear, you shouldn’t.”
“I was just as bad at his age – worse perhaps;” and Mr James Wilton, the stern, sage Squire of Northwood Manor, J.P., chairman of the Quarter Sessions, and several local institutions connected with the morals of the poor, chuckled softly, and very nearly laughed.
“James, dear, I’m surprised at you.”
“Humph! Well, boys will be boys. You know what he is.”
“But do you really think – ”
“Yes, I do really think, and I wish you would too. Kate does not take to our boy half so well as I should like to see, and nothing must occur to set her against him. It would be madness.”
“Well, it would be very disappointing if she married anyone else.”
“Disappointing? It would be ruin. So be careful.”
“Oh, yes, dear, I will indeed. I have tried to talk to her a little about what a dear good boy Claud is, and – why, Claud, dear, how long have you been standing there?”
“Just come. Time to hear you say what a dear good boy I am. Won’t father believe it?”
Chapter Six
Claud Wilton, aged twenty, with his thin pimply face, long narrow jaw, and closely-cropped hair, which was very suggestive of brain fever or imprisonment, stood leering at his father, his appearance in no wise supporting his mother’s high encomiums as he indulged in a feeble smile, one which he smoothed off directly with his thin right hand, which lingered about his lips to pat tenderly the remains of certain decapitated pimples which redly resented the passage over them that morning of an unnecessary razor, which laid no stubble low.
The Vicar of the Parish had said one word to his lady re Claud Wilton – a very short but highly expressive word that he had learned at college. It was “cad,” – and anyone who had heard it repeated would not have ventured to protest against its suitability, for his face alone suggested it, though he did all he could to emphasise the idea by adopting a horsey, collary, cuffy style of dress, every article of which was unsuited to his physique.
“Has Henry Dasent gone?”
“Yes, guvnor, and precious glad to go. You were awfully cool to him, I must say. He said if it wasn’t for his aunt he’d never darken the doors again.”
“And I hope he will not, sir. He is no credit to your mother.”
“But I think he means well, my dear,” said Mrs Wilton, plaintively. “It is not his fault. My poor dear sister did spoil him so.”
“Humph! And she was not alone. Look here, Claud, I will not have him here. I have reasons for it, and he, with his gambling and racing propensities, is no proper companion for you.”
“P’raps old Garstang says the same about me,” said the young man, sulkily.
“Claud, my dear, for shame,” said Mrs Wilton. “You should not say such things.”
“I don’t care what John Garstang says; I will not have his boy here. Insolent, priggish, wanting in respect to me, and – and – he was a deal too attentive to Kate.”
“Oh, my dear, did you think so?” cried Mrs Wilton.
“Yes, madam, I did think so,” said her husband with asperity, “and, what was ten times worse, you were always leaving them together in your blundering way.”
“Don’t say such things to me, dear, before Claud.”
“Then don’t spend your time making mistakes. Just come, have you, sir?”
“Oh, yes, father, just come,” said the young man, with an offensive grin.
“You heard more than you said, sir,” said the Squire, “so we may as well have a few words at once.”
“No, no, no, my dear; pray, pray don’t quarrel with Claud now; I’m sure he wants to do everything that is right.”
“Be quiet, Maria,” cried the Squire, angrily.
“All right, mother; I’m not going to quarrel,” said the son.
“Of course not I only want Claud to understand his position. Look here, sir, you are at an age when a bo – , when a man doesn’t understand the value of money.”
“Oh, I say, guv’nor! Come, I like that.”
“It’s quite true, sir. You boys only look upon money as something to spend.”
“Right you are, this time.”
“But it means more, sir – power, position, the respect of your fellows – everything.”
“Needn’t tell me, guv’nor; I think I know a thing or two about tin.”
“Now, suppose we leave slang out of the matter and talk sensibly, sir, about a very important matter.”
“Go on ahead then, dad; I’m listening.”
“Sit down then, Claud.”
“Rather stand, guv’nor; stand and grow good, ma.”
“Yes, my dear, do then,” said Mrs Wilton, smiling at her son fondly. “But listen now to what papa says; it really is very important.”
“All right, mother; but cut it short, father, my horse is waiting and I don’t want him to take cold.”
“Of course not, my boy; always take care of your horse. I will be very brief and to the point, then. Look here, Claud, your cousin, Katherine – ”
“Oh! Ah, yes; I heard she was ill. What does the Doctor say?”
“Never mind what the Doctor says. It is merely a fit of depression and low spirits. Now this is a serious matter. I did drop hints to you before. I must be plain now about my ideas respecting your future. You understand?”
“Quite fly, dad. You want me to marry her.”
“Exactly. Of course in good time.”
“But ain’t I ‘owre young to marry yet,’ as the song says?”
“Years do not count, my boy,” said his father, majestically. “If you were ten years older and a weak, foolish fellow, it would be bad; but when it is a case of a young man who is bright, clever, and who has had some experience of the world, it is different.”
Mrs Wilton, who was listening intently to her husband’s words, bowed her head, smiled approval, and looked with the pride of a mother at her unlicked cub.
But Claud’s face wrinkled up, and he looked inquiringly at his elder.
“I say, guv’nor,” he said, “does this mean chaff?”
“Chaff? Certainly not, sir,” said the father sternly. “Do I look like a man who would descend to – to – to chaff, as you slangly term it, my own son?”
“Not a bit of it, dad; but last week you told me I was the somethingest idiot you ever set eyes on.”
“Claud!”
“Well, he did, mother, and he used that favourite word of his before it. You know,” said the youth, with a grin.
“Claud, my dear, you shouldn’t.”
“I didn’t, mother; it was the dad. I never do use it except in the stables or to the dogs.”
“Claud, my boy, be serious. Yes, I did say so, but you had made me very angry, and – er – I spoke for your good.”
“Yes, I’m sure he did, my dear,” said Mrs Wilton.
“Oh, all right, then, so long as he didn’t mean it. Well, then, to cut it short, you both want me to marry Kate?”
“Exactly.”
“Not much of a catch. Talk about a man’s wife being a clinging vine; she’ll be a regular weeping willow.”
“Ha! ha! very good, my boy,” said Wilton, senior; “but no fear of that. Poor girl, look at her losses.”
“But she keeps going on getting into deeper misery. Look at her.”
“It only shows the sweet tenderness of her disposition, Claud, my dear,” said his mother.
“Yes, of course,” said his father, “but you’ll soon make her dry her eyes.”
“And she really is a very sweet, lovable, and beautiful girl, my dear,” said Mrs Wilton.
“Tidy, mother; only her eyes always look as red as a ferret’s.”
“Claud, my dear, you shouldn’t – such comparisons are shocking.”
“Oh, all right, mother. Very well; as I am such a clever, man-of-the-world sort of a chap, I’ll sacrifice myself for the family good. But I say, dad, she really has that hundred and fifty thou – ?”
“Every shilling of it, my boy, and – er – really that must not go out of the family.”
“Well, it would be a pity. Only you will have enough to leave me to keep up the old place.”
“Well – er – I – that is – I have been obliged to mortgage pretty heavily.”
“I say, guv’nor,” cried the young man, looking aghast; “you don’t mean to say you’ve been hit?”
“Hit? No, my dear, certainly not,” cried Mrs Wilton.
“Oh, do be quiet, ma. Father knows what I mean.”
“Well, er – yes, my boy, to be perfectly frank, I have during the past few years made a – er – two or three rather unfortunate speculations, but, as John Garstang says – ”
“Oh, hang old Garstang! This is horrible, father; just now, too, when I wanted to bleed you rather heavily.”
“Claud, my darling, don’t, pray don’t use such dreadful language.”
“Will you be quiet, ma! It’s enough to make a fellow swear. Are you quite up a tree, guv’nor?”
“Oh, no, no, my boy, not so bad as that. Things can go oh for years just as before, and, er – in reason, you know – you can have what money you require; but I want you to understand that you must not look forward to having this place, and er – to see the necessity for thinking seriously about a wealthy marriage. You grasp the position now?”
“Dad, it was a regular smeller, and you nearly knocked me out of time. I saw stars for the moment.”
“My dearest boy, what are you talking about?” asked Mrs Wilton, appealingly.
“Oh, bother! But, I say, guv’nor, I’m glad you spoke out to me – like a man.”
“To a man, my boy,” said the father, holding out his hand, which the son eagerly grasped. “Then now we understand each other?”
“And no mistake, guv’nor.”
“You mustn’t let her slip through your fingers, my boy.”
“Likely, dad!”
“You must be careful; no more scandals – no more escapades – no follies of any kind.”
“I’ll be a regular saint, dad. I say, think I ought to read for the church?”
“Good gracious me, Claud, my dear, what do you mean?”
“White choker, flopping felt, five o’clock tea, and tennis, mother. Kate would like that sort of thing.”
Wilton, senior, smiled grimly.
“No, no, my boy, be the quiet English gentleman, and let her see that you really care for her and want to make her happy. Poor girl, she wants love and sympathy.”
“And she shall have ’em, dad, hot and strong. A hundred and fifty thou – !”
“Would clear off every lien on the property, my boy, and it would be a grand thing for my poor deceased brother’s child.”
“You do think so, don’t, you, my dear?” said Mrs Wilton, mentally extending a tendril, to cling to her husband, “because I – ”
“Decidedly, decidedly, my dear,” said the Squire, quickly. “Thank you, Claud, my boy,” he continued. “I shall rely upon your strong common sense and judgment.”
“All right, guv’nor. You give me my head. I’ll make it all right. I’ll win the stakes with hands down.”
“I do trust you, my boy; but you must be gentle, and not too hasty.”
“I know,” said the young man with a cunning look. “You leave me alone.”
“Hah! That’s right, then,” said the Squire, drawing a deep breath as he smiled at his son; but all the same his eyes did not look the confidence expressed by his words.
