CHAPTERIV.
TheDowager Countess of Ilfracombe was an amiable old lady, but she was also very fond and proud of her son, and anxious to preserve his interests. His long friendship with Miss Llewellyn had been a great sorrow to her, and she was rejoiced when she heard that he had made a respectable marriage. But the remarks of her daughter on Nora’s behaviour had made her a little more observant, and for the next few days she watched the young countess narrowly. The consequence of which was that she determined to have a private talk with the girl, and the first time she found her alone she proceeded to the attack.
She was a sweet old lady this dowager countess, like her son in many ways,with soft grey curls each side her face, and mild blue eyes and delicately-chiselled features. She drew her chair close to that on which her daughter-in-law sat, carelessly turning over the latest magazines, and laid her withered hand on the girl’s slim, white one,—
‘Reading, my dear,’ she commenced pleasantly. ‘Is there anything particularly good in the Christmas numbers this year?’
‘Not much,’ replied Nora, laying the magazine down. ‘The stories are all on the same old lines. I wish they would invent something new. I think it is so silly to imagine that Christmas tales must all take place in the snow, or be mixed up with a ghost. Isn’t it?’
‘Very silly,’ acquiesced the old lady, ‘but as long as there are fools found to read them there will be fools left to write them. But where is Ilfracombe this afternoon? Has he left you all alone to the mercy of the Christmas numbers?’
Nora laughed.
‘It is my own fault,’ she said. ‘Hewanted me to go out driving with him; but I thought it was too cold. So I think he and Mr Portland have walked over to Critington to play billiards with Lord Babbage.’
‘Ah, I thought dear Ilfracombe had not forgotten his little wife,’ said the dowager in a patronising tone of voice, which Nora immediately resented. ‘He is too good and amiable for that. I am sure that you find him most kind in everything. Don’t you, dear?’
The young countess shrugged her shoulders.
‘So, so; much the same as other young men,’ she answered, and then perceiving the look of astonishment on her mother-in-law’s face, she added, apologetically,—‘You see, Lady Ilfracombe, that I’m not a gusher, and I’ve known so many men I’ve learned to pretty well estimate the value of them.’
‘Perhaps, my dear, though I cannot say I think the knowledge an enviable one for a young lady. But you do not rankyour husband with other men, surely? He loves youdearly—anyonecould see that—and you must have a good deal of influence over him.’
‘Yes, I fancy I’ve got the length of his foot,’ replied Nora.
‘My dear son is almost all that a son and a husband should be,’ continued the fond mother. ‘He has no vices, but he has some weaknesses, and one is, being too easily influenced by his friends, and all his friends are not such as I should choose for him. I may be wrong, but I distrust that Mr Portland with whom Ilfracombe is so intimate. More than that, I dislike him.’
‘So do I,’ said Nora shortly.
A look of satisfaction came into her companion’s face.
‘Do you really, Nora? I am so glad to hear you say so, for I fancied that he was a great friend of yours.’
‘What, Mr Portland? Oh, Lady Ilfracombe, how mistaken you are. If I had my will I would never ask him to Thistlemereagain. But you won’t tellhimso, will you?’ she said, looking fearfully round.
‘My dear girl, what are you thinking of? As if it were likely. But, Nora, now you have told me so, I must tell you what is in my mind. Mr Portland has, in my opinion, been Ilfracombe’s worst enemy for years. Not wilfully so, of course; but he is a man who almostlivesupon the turf, and is always betting and gambling. He has no settled income, or a very small one. He is, in fact, an adventurer, though our dear Ilfracombe would be angry if he heard me say so. I am sure this Mr Portland borrows large sums of him. My brother, General Brewster, warned me of it long ago. He has also encouraged Ilfracombe in many things which I cannot speak to you about, but which a word from Mr Portland would have made him see the folly of. But he has been his evil genius. You must be his good genius, and rid Ilfracombe of him.’
The old lady smiled very kindly at Nora as she said this. She was so relieved to find that she did not stick up for thevaurienJack Portland as she had feared she might do.
‘I? Lady Ilfracombe!’ exclaimed the young countess, with somewhat of a scared look; ‘but what could I do? Mr Portland is my husband’s friend, not mine. I don’t think Ilfracombe would hear a word against him.’
‘I think he would be the first to listen and approve, my dear, were you to complain to him of the offensive familiarity with which Mr Portland treats you. I don’t think it is either respectful to your rank or yourself. Several people have noticed it. To see that dissipated-looking man hanging over you, as he often does, at the piano or the sofa, with his red face close to yours, sometimes almost whispering in your ear before other people, is most indecent. Ilfracombe should put a stop to it, and the proper person to draw his attention to it is yourself.’
‘I hate it! I detest it!’ cried Nora, her face flushing with annoyance and the knowledge that she had put it out of her power to resent such conduct, as she ought to do. ‘I think Mr Portland is vulgar and presuming to a degree; but if it is Ilfracombe’s pleasure to have him here he would surely not like me the better for making mischief between them.’
‘I should not call it “making mischief,”’ replied the dowager. ‘I should say it was what was due to your position as Ilfracombe’s wife. However, my dear, perhaps you know best. Only, pray promise me to discourage that odious man as much as possible. I shall have to speak to him some day myself, if you don’t.’
‘Indeed, indeed, I will, Lady Ilfracombe. I will come and sit close by you every day after dinner if you will let me, and then he will hardly have the presumption I should think, to thrust himself between us.’
‘My dear, I should not like to put alimit to Mr Portland’s presumption. He is one of the most offensive men I have ever met. However, if you dislike him as much as I do, there is no harm done, and I should think, judging from your courageous and independent manner, that you are quite capable of keeping him at a distance, if you choose.’
‘I hope so,’ laughed Nora uneasily. ‘Don’t have any fears for me, dear Lady Ilfracombe. My only wish in this particular is not to annoy my husband by offending his great friend, whom he has commended over and over again to my hospitality; but, if matters go too far, he shall hear of it, I promise you.’
The dowager kissed her daughter-in-law, and felt perfectly satisfied with the way in which she had received her advice, telling the Ladies Devenish afterwards that they had taken an utterly wrong view of the young countess’s conduct, and she only wished every young married woman were as well able to take care of herself and her husband’shonour. The Ladies Devenish shrugged their ancient shoulders as soon as her back was turned, and told each other that ‘mother’s geese were always swans, and, of course, anyone whom Ilfracombe had married, could do no wrong in her eyes.’ But they ceased making remarks on Nora for the future all the same.
Meanwhile the young countess did all she could, without being positively rude, to discourage Jack Portland’s intimacy with her. She kept as close as she could to her mother and sisters-in-law, and took every precaution to prevent herself being left alone with him; but perceived, in a few days, that Mr Portland had guessed the cause of her avoidance, and was prepared to resent it. If he could not get an opportunity of speaking to her privately during the evening, he would stand on the hearthrug and gaze at her with his bloodshot eyes, till she was afraid that everybody in the room must guess the secret between them. One afternoon, as they were seated roundthe luncheon-table, he lolled over her and stared so fixedly into her face, that she felt as if she must rebuke his conduct openly. She saw the dowager put up her eyeglass to observe them, and the Ladies Devenish nudge each other to look her way; Ilfracombe, of all present, seemed to take no notice of Mr Portland’s behaviour. Nora writhed like a bird in the coils of a serpent. She did not know how to act. She could have slapped the insolent, heated face which was almost thrust in her own; she professed not to hear the words addressed to her in a lowered tone, but tried to treat them playfully, and told him to ‘speak up.’ But it was useless. She saw Jack Portland’s bloated face grow darker and darker as she parried his attempts at familiarity, until she dreaded lest, in his anger at her repulsion, he should say something aloud that would lower her for ever in the eyes of her relations. Who can trust the tongue of a man who is a habitual drinker? Atlast Nora could stand it no longer, and, rising hastily, she asked the dowager to excuse her leaving the table, as she did not feel well. Her plea was sufficient to make her husband follow her, but he could not get the truth out of her, even when alone.
‘It’s nothing,’ she told him when he pressed her to say if she were really ill; ‘but the room was warm, and I didn’t want any more luncheon, and Mr Portland bored me.’
‘Jack bored you!’ exclaimed the earl in a voice of astonishment, as if such a thing could never be, ‘I never heard a woman say that before. Shall I speak to him about it, darling?’
But Nora’s look of horror at the proposal was enough to answer the question.
‘Speak to him, Ilfracombe? Oh, no, pray don’t. Whatwouldhe think of me? It would sound so horribly rude, and when he is a guest in the house too. Never mention it again, please. I wouldn’t offend a friend of yours for the world.’
‘Thanks. Yes, I’m afraid dear old Jack might feel a little sore if I were to tell him he bored you. But it mustn’t be allowed to occur again, Nora. I’ll take him out of the house more than I have done. He won’t worry you this afternoon, for we’re going to ride over to the Castle together and pay old Nettleton a visit. I want to get a brace of his pointers if he will part with them. We mean to be home to dinner; but if we’re a little late, don’t wait for us.’
‘Very well,’ said Nora brightly.
She was glad to think she would be relieved from herbête noirfor the afternoon at all events.
The earl stooped and kissed her, and ran downstairs. Nora would have liked to return that kiss, but as she was about to do it, she suddenly felt shy and drew back again. Women are so generally accredited with changing their minds, that when they do so, they don’t like to confess the truth. But she waved herhand gaily as Lord Ilfracombe left the room, and sent him off on his expedition happy and contented. The afternoon passed quietly away; nothing unusual occurred until the ladies had assembled in the drawing-room, preparatory to dinner being served.
‘Ilfracombe particularly requested that we should not wait if he were late,’ said Nora to her mother-in-law; ‘so I think we had better not do so. I fancy he had some idea that Mr Nettleton might press them to dine at the Castle—any way that was what he said to me.’
‘I would give them ten minutes’ grace, my dear,’ replied the dowager; ‘the roads are very bad to-day, and they may not reach home as soon as they anticipated. It is so uncomfortable to come in just as the soup has been removed. Besides, they must change their clothes before dining.’
‘Yes, you are right,’ replied Nora, glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece, ‘it is a quarter to seven now. I willring and tell Warrender to put off dinner till half-past. Shall I?’
‘Yes, my dear, do,’ the old lady was saying, just as Warrender entered the room unceremoniously, and with an air of decided perturbation.
‘What is the matter?’ cried Nora hurriedly, for she saw at once he was the bearer of news. ‘What has occurred? Why do you look like that?’
‘Oh, my lady!’ exclaimed the servant, ‘nothing, Ihope—yourladyship mustn’t be alarmed, but I thought it right you should hear that—that—’
‘That—what? For God’s sake, speak!’ cried Nora impetuously. ‘It is folly to keep us in such suspense.’
‘Well, my lady, Johnson, he has just come up from the stables to say that the BlackPrince—hislordship’s horse, you know, mylady—raninto the yard a few minutes back,without—withouthis lordship, my lady!’
‘Thrown!’ exclaimed Lady Laura shrilly.
‘Without Lord Ilfracombe?’ queriedLady Blanche; ‘but where, then, is Mr Portland?’
‘Oh, heavens, my poor son! He may be lying dead in the road at this moment,’ said the dowager, wringing her hands.
But Nora said nothing. She was standing in the centre of the room, motionless as though turned to stone. Presently she asked in a harsh voice,—
‘Have they sent out to search along the roads?’
‘No, my lady, they thought—’ commenced Warrender.
‘Thought? Thought? What is the good of thinking when they should act? Tell Johnson to go out at once and scour the road to the Castle, and let the carriage be got ready to follow him. His lordship may be unable to walk. Go at once; don’t lose a moment. Stay, where is Johnson? I will give him the directions myself.’
She flew down to the lower premises as she spoke, regardless that her dress was quite unsuited to cold corridors andstone passages. She was very white, but perfectly calm and collected as she gave her orders, whilst Lady Laura was shrieking in hysterics in the drawing-room, and Lady Blanche had her hands full in trying to prevent the dowager fainting under the dreadful suspense. As soon as Nora was satisfied that assistance had been dispatched in case of need, she went slowly up to her own room, with her hand tightly pressed against her heart. She could not realise what might be taking place, or might have taken place. She had only one fear, one dread, Ilfracombe and she might be parted before she had had time to tell him that she loved him. She kept both hands and teeth clenched to prevent her crying out, and making her cowardice patent to all around, whilst her cold lips went on murmuring, ‘Oh, God, save him! oh, God, save him!’ without any idea of the meaning of what she said.
She had stood thus, not having the heart or the sense to sit down, forperhaps half an hour, when she heard a shout from thehall—ashout of laughter, and then her husband’s voice exclaiming,—
‘So sorry to have given you such a scare. Not my fault I assure you. We came on as quick as we could. No, I’m not hurt. Was Nora frightened? Where is she? I must go to her. Down in a minute. Tell you all about it then,’ and his feet came flying two steps at a time up the stairs to her side.
She stood with clasped hands expecting him, all the blood in her body mantling in her face.
‘Oh, Ilfracombe,’ was all she could say as he entered the room.
‘My darling, I am so sorry that brute frightened you all so by coming home without me. Jack and I were within a mile of home when the Black Prince shied suddenly at something and threw me clean over his head. We tried our best to catch him, but he bolted to his stables, and I had to walk back.’
‘And you are not hurt?’ she asked tremblingly; ‘not at all?’
‘Not at all,’ he echoed, ‘only splashed from head to foot with mud, and feeling very much as if I would like to have a warm bath before dinner. But, love, you are shaking all over. Has it really upset you like this?’
Nora drew back a little, ashamed of having displayed so much feeling.
‘It was rather alarming,’ she answered, with a slight laugh. ‘We—we—might—never have seen you again.’
‘And you would have grieved for me?’ said the earl, pressing her to his heart. ‘Oh, my dearest, you make me feel so happy.’
A sudden impulse, which she could not resist, seized Nora. She threw her slender arms round Ilfracombe and laid her cheek against his. It was the first evidence of deep feeling which she had ever given him. But a moment afterwards she seemed ashamed of it.
‘There is no doubt you gave us astart, dear old boy,’ she said, smiling, ‘but it is over now, and I’ll run down and send Wilkins up to get your bath ready. You’ll have heaps of time. I had already postponed dinner to half-past seven. Make as much haste as you can though.’
‘One more kiss, darling, before you go,’ cried the earl.
‘No such thing! We mustn’t waste any more time in fooling or the fish will be in rags. I will go down and see that Lady Ilfracombe has a glass of wine. The poor old lady has been crying fit to make herself ill.’ And in another second she had left him to himself.
She found the drawing-room people in solemn conclave; the Ladies Devenish rather inclined to be offended at being disappointed of a sensation, and the dowager, telling Mr Portland of the terrible scare they had experienced, and how she thought poor dear Nora would go mad when the news of the riderless horse’s arrival was announced to her.
‘I am sure I thought her mind was going, Mr Portland,’ she was saying as Nora entered. ‘She stood as if she had been turned to marble, and when she rushed from the room I thought she was going to fly out into the night air just as she was after him.’
‘Of course it would have been an awful thing for Lady Ilfracombe to have lost her position so soon after attaining it,’ replied Mr Portland politely.
‘And her husband,’ returned the old lady sympathetically.
It was at this juncture that Nora appeared. She was still pale from the fright she had experienced, and had lost much of her usual jolly, off-hand manner.
‘Ilfracombe will be down directly,’ she said, addressing her mother-in-law; ‘he is going to have a bath before dinner, as, though he has broken no bones, he has a considerable number of bruises from the fall.’
‘Of course, poor, dear boy,’ acquiesced the dowager. ‘Oh, my dear, what amercy it is no worse. He might have been killed from such a sudden fall. I shall never feel easy when he is on horseback again.’
‘Never is a long time,’ replied Nora, smiling; ‘but won’t you and Blanche and Laura take a glass of wine before dinner? I am sure you must need it after the shock you have had.’
The wine was rung for, and when Warrender appeared with it, and Nora refused to have any, Mr Portland took the opportunity of observing sarcastically,—
‘Surelyyoumust require some yourself, Lady Ilfracombe? I have just been listening to an account of the terrible emotion you displayed at the supposition of Ilfracombe’s danger.’
The butler poured out a glass and handed it to his young mistress without a word. He had seen her excitement and interpreted it aright, but he did not understand why this gentleman should mention it as though it were something to be surprised at.
The young countess took the wine silently and drank it. Portland again addressed her.
‘It must have been an awful moment for you when Black Prince’s arrival was announced. Did you really think Ilfracombe was killed? It would have been a great misfortune for you if it had been so. The title would have gone, I believe, to a distant cousin, and the whole object of his marriage frustrated. And you would have sunk at once from the queen regnant to a mere dowager. Aren’t you glad he is all right?’
This was saidsotto voce, so as to be inaudible to the rest of the party.
‘I do not see that it signifies to you, what I feel, or do not feel,’ said Nora, with her most indifferent air, as she turned from Jack Portand to address some commonplace to her mother-in-law.
‘By Jove, though, but I’ll make it signify!’ he muttered to himself, as he saw the Ladies Devenish secretly amused at the evident snub he had received.The earl now joined the assembly. He was in high spirits, and disposed to make light of everything that had occurred. The evening passed pleasantly, though Nora was rather hysterically gay; but towards the close of it, when the other ladies had retired, and she was about to follow their example, her husband was told that his steward wished to speak to him.
‘Don’t go yet, Nora,’ he called out, on leaving the room, ‘wait till I come back. I want to tell you something before Jack and I go to the smoking-room. Keep her amused, Jack, till I return.’
It was Jack Portland’s opportunity, and he seized it.
‘What an actress you are,’ he commenced, as soon as they were alone. ‘You would have made your fortune on the stage.’
‘I don’t understand you,’ she said. ‘In what have I acted a part to-night?’
‘Why, in your well counterfeited dismay at the idea of danger to Ilfracombe, of course. When the old lady wastelling me about it, I thought I should have split.You—turned to stone with apprehension.You—the coldest woman in Christendom! who has no more feeling than a piece of marble! It is ridiculous. You know it was all put on.’
‘Why shouldn’t I feel uneasy if he is in danger? He is my husband. You cannot deny that.’
‘Your husband, yes. And what did you marry him for? His title and his money! You cannot deny that. Two years ago you were, or fancied yourself, desperately in love with another man—modesty forbids me to mention him by name—but you chucked him over; why? Because he hadn’t as much money as you expected to sell yourself for!’
‘It isn’t true,’ she answered hotly. ‘You know that it was my father who separated us and forbade your coming to the house again. Else, perhaps, there is no knowing I might have been your wife at the present moment. But as for being, asyou express it, “desperately in love,” you know that isuntrue—thatit is not in my nature—that I am not one of your gushing, spooney girls, who are ready to jump down the throat of the first man who looks at them, and never was.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t be too sure of that,’ said Mr Portland. ‘Certain little epistles in my possession tell a different tale. Most of them are “spooney” enough in all conscience. At least, if you do not call them so, I should like to see the ones you do!’
‘You have not returned those letters to me yet,’ she answered quickly. ‘I trust to your honour to do so, without reading them again.’
‘Why should I read them again,ma chère, when they no longer interest me? I know you women like to think you can chuck your victims over, and still keep them writhing at your feet; but I am not one of that sort. Once repulsed is enough for me. Your ladyship need never fear that I shall ever trouble you again.But don’t say you never were one of the “gushing, spooney girls,” or you may tempt me to make you retract your words. Perhaps you have quite forgotten what you wrote in those letters?’ he demanded meaningly.
‘Yes, quite,’ she answered, though with a sickening faint remembrance of a great deal of folly; ‘but what does it matter? It is over now on both sides, and we can remain good friends all the same. But I wish you would not make your intimacy with me quite so apparent before other people. It has been noticed by more than one person, and it places me in an unpleasant position. And if it is pointed out to Ilfracombe it might lead to something disagreeable.’
‘How?’ said her companion.
‘How? Why, by making a quarrel between my husband and myself, of course,’ replied Nora querulously.
‘And would you care about that? He couldn’t take your coronet from you for such a trifle, you know. Even thoseletters ofyours—werethey to come to light, he might rub rusty over them, but he couldn’t do anything. When a man marries a woman, he has to ignore all ante-nuptial indiscretions. He would make a jolly row, naturally, and you would have a hot time of it. But you are the Countess of Ilfracombe fast enough, and the Lord Chancellor himself couldn’t unmake you so.’
‘I know that,’ said Nora. ‘I don’t need you to tell me so. And there is no chance of Ilfracombe seeing the letters either. If you keep your word to me (as I conclude you will), I shall destroy them as soon as they are in my possession. I wish you would send for your dispatch-box, and give them to me at once. I should feel so much more comfortable.’
‘Why in such a hurry?’ said Mr Portland. ‘I am going home next week, and then you shall have them by registered post, honour bright. Won’t that satisfy you?’
‘Oh, yes, of course. And Mr Portland,’ added Nora rather nervously, ‘we agreed just now that it was all over, so you won’t mind my saying you think I care only for Ilfracombe’s title and fortune, and I daresay you are justified in thinking so—but—but it is not only that.He—heis so good to me, that I can’t help caring—I mean, it would be very ungrateful of me not to care, just a little.’
But here the young countess’s blushing, stammering confession was interrupted by her husband’s return.
‘Oh, hereisIlfracombe!’ she exclaimed, suddenly breaking off, and advancing to meet him, whilst Jack Portland thought to himself; ‘so the wind’s in that quarter now, is it? All the better for me; but I’m afraid her ladyship has sealed the fate of that interesting little packet. If love is to be brought into the bargain, those letters will become too valuable to me to part with. Why, I shall be able to turn and twist her, through their means, at my will.’