Kitabı oku: «Jolly Sally Pendleton: or, the Wife Who Was Not a Wife», sayfa 13

CHAPTER XLV

To sit quietly by and hear mother and daughter discuss the man she loved, was as hard for Bernardine to endure as the pangs of death.

"He is sure to be a worshipful husband," said Miss Margaret. "I always said love would be a grand passion with Jay. He will love once, and that will be forever, and to his wife he will be always true."

Poor, hapless Bernardine could have cried aloud as she listened. What would that proud lady-mother and that haughty sister say if they but knew how he had tricked her into a sham marriage, and abandoned her then and there? Oh, would they feel pity for her, or contempt?

The servants, in livery, had taken their posts; everything was in readiness now to welcome the five hundred guests that were to arrive in advance of the bridal pair.

In her boudoir, the grand old lady-mother, resplendent in ivory-satin, rare old point lace and diamonds, was viewing herself critically in the long pier-glass that reached from ceiling to floor. Her daughter Margaret stood near her, arrayed in satin and tulle, with pearls white as moonbeams lying on her breast, clasping her white throat and arms, and twined among the meshes of her dark hair.

The contrast made poor Bernardine look strangely out of place in her plain gray cashmere dress, with its somber dark ribbons.

"You look quite tired, Miss Moore. I would suggest that you go into the grounds for a breath of fresh air before the guests arrive. Then I shall want you here," said Miss Gardiner, noticing how very white and drawn the girl's face looked.

Oh, how thankful she was to get away from them – away from the sight of the pomp and the splendor – to cry her heart out, all alone, for a few moments! With a grateful murmured "Thank you," she stepped from the long French window out on to the porch and down the private stair-way into the grounds.

Margaret Gardiner stepped to the window, drew aside the heavy lace curtains, and watched the dark, slim figure until it was lost to sight among the grand old oak-trees.

It seemed to Bernardine that she had escaped just in time, for in another instant she would have cried out with the pain at her heart, with the awful agony that had taken possession of her.

One by one grand coaches began to roll up the long white road, turn in at the great stone gate-way, and rattle smartly up the serpentine drive to the broad porch.

Then they commenced to arrive scores at a time, and the air was filled with the ringing hoofs of hundreds of horses, the voices of coachmen and grooms, and the gay sound of laughter.

The din was so great no one heard the solitary little figure among the trees crying out to Heaven that she had counted beyond her strength in remaining there to witness the home-coming of the man she loved and his bride.

Suddenly she heard the sound of her own name.

"Miss Moore! Miss Moore! Where are you?" called one of the maids. "My lady is asking for you!"

"Tell your mistress I shall be there directly."

"Dear me! what an odd creature that Miss Moore is!" thought the maid, as she flew back to the house. "Instead of being in the house, enjoying the music and the grand toilets of the aristocracy that's here to-night, she's out in the loneliest part of the grounds. But, dear me! what an amazing goose I am to be sure. She must have a lover with her, and in that case the grove's a paradise. Too bad my lady was so imperative. I would have pretended that I couldn't find her – just yet."

Bernardine stooped down, and wetting her handkerchief in the brook, laved her face with it.

She dared not approach the grand old lady with her face swollen with tears, as she was sure it must be.

Bernardine found her quite beside herself with excitement.

"I heard the whistle of the incoming train some fifteen minutes ago, Miss Moore," she said. "My son has reached the station by this time. I have sent our fastest team down to meet him. He will be here at any moment. Ah! that is his step I hear now in the corridor! I am trembling so with excitement that I can hardly stand. Do not leave, Miss Moore. I may need you in case this meeting is too much for me and I should faint away in his strong arms."

The footsteps that Bernardine remembered so well came nearer.

She pressed her hand tightly over her heart to still its wild beating.

Bernardine could have cried aloud in her agony; but her white lips uttered no moan, no sound, even when the door was flung open and a tall, handsome form sprung over the threshold.

"Where are you, mother?" cried Jay Gardiner. "The room is so dark that I can not see where you are!"

The next moment the proud, stately old lady was sobbing on the breast of the son she idolized.

She forgot that in the shadow of the alcove stood her companion; she forgot the existence of every one save her darling boy, whom she clasped so joyfully.

Bernardine watched him herself, unseen, her whole heart in her eyes, like one turned into stone.

His handsome face was pale, even haggard; the dark hair, that waved back from the broad brow, was the same; but his eyes – those bonny, sunny, laughing blue eyes – were sadly changed. There was an unhappy look in them, a restless expression, deepening almost into despair. There was a story of some kind in his face, a repressed passion and fire, a something Bernardine could not understand.

"I am not alone, you must remember, mother, dear," he said in his deep, musical voice. "I have brought some one else for you to welcome. Look up and greet my wife, mother."

Slowly the grand old lady unwound her arms from about the neck of her handsome, stalwart son, and turned rather fearfully toward the slender figure by her side.

At that moment young Mrs. Gardiner took a step forward, which brought her in the full glow of the lamp, and as Bernardine gazed, her heart sunk within her.

She saw, as the lovely young stranger threw back her gray silk traveling-cloak, a slim, beautiful creature, with golden hair, round, dimpled face, flushed cheeks and lips, and the brightest of blue, sparkling eyes – a girl who looked like some dazzling picture painted by some old master, and who had just stepped out of a gilded frame. Her face was so lovely, that, as Bernardine gazed, her heart grew so heavy and strained with pain, that she thought it must surely break. She was the same girl who had visited her at her humble home.

The grand old lady took the haughty young beauty in her arms, calling her "daughter," and bidding her welcome to Gardiner Castle, her future home.

"Ah! no wonder the man I loved deserted me for this beautiful being all life, all sparkle, all fire," was the thought that rushed through Bernardine's breaking heart.

Then suddenly the old lady remembered her, and turned to her quickly, saying:

"Come forward, my dear girl. I wish to present my new companion to my son and his bride."

CHAPTER XLVI

Bernardine stood still. She could not have moved one step forward if her life depended on it; and thinking she had not heard, the old lady turned to her, and repeated:

"I want my son and his wife to know you, my dear. You have been but a short time beneath this roof, but in that time you have made yourself so indispensable to me that I could not do without you."

Both Jay Gardiner and his wife glanced carelessly in the direction indicated by his mother.

The room was in such dense shadow that they only saw a tall, slim form in a dark dress that seemed to melt into and become a part of the darkness beyond.

They bowed slightly in the most thoughtless manner; then turned their attention to Mrs. Gardiner, who had commenced telling them how eagerly she had watched for their coming, and of the strange presentiment that something was going to happen.

That moment stood out forever afterward in the life of hapless Bernardine.

She thought that when her eyes rested on the face that had been all the world to her, she would fall dead at his feet. But she did not; nor did the slightest moan or cry escape her white lips.

She had expected that Jay Gardiner would cry out in wonder or in anger when he saw her; that he would recognize her with some show of emotion. But he only looked at her, and then turned as carelessly away as any stranger might have done. And in that moment, as she stood there, the very bitterness of death passed over her.

Mrs. Gardiner's next remark called their attention completely away from her, for which she was most thankful.

"Dear me, how very selfish I am!" exclaimed the grand old lady, in dismay. "I had forgotten how time is flying. The guests will be wondering why you and your bride tarry so long, my dear boy. A servant will show you to your suite of rooms. Your luggage must have been already taken there. You will want to make your toilets. When you are ready to go down to the reception-room, let me know.

"Do not forget to wear all the Gardiner diamonds to-night, my dear," were the lady-mother's parting words. "Every one is expecting to see them on you. They are famous. You will create a sensation in them; you will bewilder, dazzle, and astonish these country folk."

Bernardine did not hear the young wife's reply. She would have given all she possessed to throw herself on her knees on the spot his feet had pressed and wept her very life out.

Ah! why had he wooed her in that never-to-be-forgotten past, made her love him, taken her heart from her, only to break it?

A moment later, Miss Margaret glided into the room and went straight up to her mother's side.

"I have just greeted and welcomed Jay and his bride, mamma," she said, speaking before her mother's companion quite as though she had not been present. But she paused abruptly as though she thought it best to cut the sentence short.

"Well," replied her mother, eagerly, "do you like Jay's bride, Margaret? You always form an opinion when you first meet a person, which usually proves to be correct."

"My brother does not look quite happy," replied Miss Margaret, slowly. "His bride is most beautiful – indeed, I have never met a young woman so strangely fascinating – but there is something about her that repels even while it draws me toward her."

"I experienced the same feeling, Margaret," returned Mrs. Gardiner. "But it seems to me only natural that we should experience such a sensation when looking upon the face of the woman who has taken first place in the heart of my only boy and your only brother. As to Jay not being quite happy, I think that is purely your imagination, Margaret. Theirs was a love match, and they are in the height of their honey-moon. Why should he not be happy, I ask you!"

"And I reply, mamma, that I do not know," replied Miss Margaret, thoughtfully. "It is simply the way the expression of his face and his manners struck me. But I must hurry down to our guests again. Will you accompany me, mamma, that we may both be together to receive them in the drawing-room and present them?"

The young wife stood before the long French mirror, scarcely glancing at the superb picture she presented, as Antoinette, her maid, deftly put the finishing touches to her toilet.

"There is only one thing needed to make my lady fairly radiant to-night," declared Antoinette, in her low, purring voice, "and that is the diamonds. You will let me get them all and deck you with them – twine them about that superb white neck, those perfect arms and – "

"Hush!" exclaimed Sally, impatiently. "Didn't you hear me say I shouldn't wear the diamonds to-night."

Jay Gardiner, entering his wife's boudoir unexpectedly at that moment, could not help overhearing her remark.

His brow darkened, and a gleam of anger shot into his blue eyes. He stepped quickly to his wife's side.

"You will wear the diamonds!" he said in the most authoritative tone he had yet used to her. "You heard my mother express the wish that you should do so. Moreover, it has been the custom in our family for generations for brides to wear them at a reception given in honor of their home-coming."

With these words, he strode into his own room – an inner apartment – and closed the door after him with a bang.

Looking up into her young mistress's face, the shrewd Antoinette saw that she was greatly agitated, and pale as death. But she pretended not to notice it.

"Shall I not get the diamonds from your little hand-bag, my lady?" she asked, eagerly.

"No; you can not get them," cried Sally, hoarsely, her teeth chattering, her eyes fairly dilating with fright; "they are not there!"

CHAPTER XLVII

Young Mrs. Gardiner stooped down until her lips were on a level with the maid's ear.

"My diamonds are not in the little leather hand-bag, Antoinette," she panted. "The hour has come when I must make a confidant of you, and ask you to help me, Antoinette. You are clever; your brain is full of resources; and you must help me out of this awful web that has tangled itself about me. I – I lost the diamonds on the night of the grand ball – the last night we were at Newport, and – and I dare not tell my husband. Now you see my position, Antoinette. I – I can not wear the diamonds, and I do not know how to turn my husband from his purpose of making me put them on. He may refuse to go down to the reception-room – or, still worse, he may ask for them. I can not see the end, Antoinette. I am between two fires. I do not know which way to leap to save myself. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly, my lady," returned the wily maid. "Leave your trouble to me. I will find some way to get you out of it."

"You must think quickly, Antoinette!" cried Sally, excitedly. "He said he would return for me within ten minutes. Half that time has already passed. Oh – oh! what shall I do?"

"You must not excite yourself, my lady," replied Antoinette, quickly. "Worry brings wrinkles, and you can not afford to have any but pleasant thoughts. I have said you can rely upon me to think of some way out of the dilemma."

"That is easier said than done, Antoinette," declared her mistress, beginning to pace excitedly up and down the room, the color burning in two bright red spots on her cheeks.

Antoinette crossed over to the window, and stood looking out thoughtfully into the darkness. Her brain was busy with the numerous schemes that were flitting through it.

At that, moment fate pointed out an unexpected way to her. She heard footsteps in the corridor, and just then it flashed upon Antoinette that she had heard her master giving orders to his valet to bring him a glass of brandy. The man was returning with it.

Quick as a flash, Antoinette crossed the room and flung open the door.

"Andrew," she whispered to the man who was passing, "I want you to do a favor for me."

"A hundred if you like," replied the man, good-humoredly. "But I haven't time to listen to you now. I'll take master this brandy – which, by the way, is the best of its kind. I wish he'd take a notion to leave half of it in the glass, for it's fairly nectar – then I'll be back in a trice, and you can consider me at your service for the rest of the evening."

"But it's now I want you, Andrew – this very minute!" cried Antoinette. "Set your glass right down here; nobody will see it; I'll keep guard over it. My errand won't take you more than a minute. Master won't miss his brandy for that short time. He'll enjoy it all the more when he gets it."

Andrew hesitated an instant, and we all know what happens to the man who hesitates – he is lost.

"Well, what is it you want, Antoinette?" he replied, good-humoredly. "If it only takes me a minute, as you say, I don't mind accommodating you."

"I lost my little gold cross in the lower hall a few moments ago. I heard something drop as I was hurrying along, but did not miss it until just now, and I can't leave my lady to go and get it. Some one may come along and find it, and I'd never get it again. For goodness' sake, go quick, Andrew, and look for it. Not an instant's to be lost."

Suspecting nothing, the good fellow hurriedly set down the glass, and hastened away to do her bidding.

His back was scarcely turned ere Antoinette flew to her own apartments, which adjoined her mistress's, and took from a trunk, which she unlocked with a very strange-looking key, a small vial. A few grains of the contents she emptied into the palm of her hand, and in less time than it takes to write it, they were transferred to the glass of brandy and dissolved at once with its amber contents.

She had scarcely accomplished this ere Andrew returned, quite flushed from hurrying.

"I am sorry to bring you bad news, Antoinette," he said; "but some one has been there before me and picked up your cross. I met the butler, and we both searched for it. He has promised to make strict inquiries concerning it, and get it back for you if it be possible."

"You are very good to take so much trouble upon yourself," declared Antoinette, with a well-enacted sigh. "I suppose I shall survive the loss of it. It is a trinket that isn't of much value only as a keep-sake. But I won't keep you standing there talking any longer, Andrew; your master will be waiting for the brandy."

"I'll see you later, Antoinette," he said, nodding as he picked up his glass.

The next moment he had disappeared within his master's apartments.

When she returned to her mistress she found Mrs. Gardiner in a state of nervousness.

"The time is almost up, and you have devised no plan as yet, Antoinette," she cried, wringing her hands. "See! the ten minutes have almost elapsed. Oh – oh! what shall I do?"

"Monsieur will not come in ten minutes' time, my lady," replied the maid, with a knowing nod; "nor will he go to the reception. There was but one way out of it," declared Antoinette. "If he came after you to go down to the reception, the diamonds would have to be produced, so I said to myself he must not come, he must be prevented at all hazards. I knew of but one way, and acted upon the thought that came to me. Monsieur had ordered some brandy; I intercepted the valet, sent him off on a fool's errand, holding the glass until he returned, and while he was gone I put a heavy sleeping potion, which I often take for the toothache, in monsieur's glass of brandy. After taking it, he will fall into a deep sleep, from which no one will be able to awake him. The consequence is, he will not come for my lady to take her down to the reception to-night, and she is free to suit herself as to whether she will wear diamonds or not. No other occasion for wearing them may take place for some time. I will think of something else by that time."

"You have saved me, Antoinette!" cried the guilty woman, sinking down upon the nearest chair and trembling with excitement. "Oh, how can I ever thank you!"

"If my lady would do something in the way of raising my pay, I would be much obliged," replied the girl, her black eyes glittering.

She knew the trembling woman before her was in her power. The game had been commenced, the first trump had been played, and Antoinette meant to win all in the end.

"I shall be only too glad to do so," returned Sally, realizing for the first time the unpleasantness of being dictated to by her maid.

"And if madame would make me a present of some money to-night, I could make excellent use of it."

"I haven't any ready money just now," returned Sally, a dull red flush creeping over the whiteness of her face. "I have spent all last month's allowance, and it's only the middle of the month now."

"I would take the gold chain in the jewel-case which madame never wears," replied the girl, boldly.

"Antoinette, you are a fiend!" cried Sally Gardiner, starting to her feet in a rage. "How dare you expect that I would give you my gold chain, girl?"

"Madame could not afford to refuse my request," answered the girl. "If she wants me to keep her secret, she must pay well. The service I have rendered to-night is worth what I ask."

"Take the chain," said young Mrs. Gardiner, with a short gasp. "I – I shall not need your services after to-night. Take the chain, and – go!"

"So, so, madame!" cried the girl. "That is the way you would repay me for what I have done, for you? Discharge Antoinette, eh? Oh, no, my lady; you will think better of those hasty words, especially as I have a suspicion of where madame's diamonds have gone."

"I lost them at the ball that night in Newport," cried Sally, springing hastily to her feet, and facing the girl, her temper at a white heat.

"Monsieur Victor Lamont was with my lady when she lost them," returned Antoinette, softly. "She wore them when she entered the carriage on the beach that night, and she returned at day-break without them. You would not like monsieur to know of that romantic little episode, eh?"

"I repeat, you are a fiend incarnate!" gasped Sally, trembling like an aspen leaf.

"My lady sees it would be better to temporize with Antoinette than to make an enemy of her. She will think better of discharging one whose assistance may prove valuable to her. I will say no more. They are coming to see what detains madame and her husband, little dreaming what is in store for them."