CHAPTER XXI.
THE VILLA IN HYDE PARK.
The subtle, insinuating manner of Viscount Rivington completely deceived Lady Elaine. Open and honest as the sunshine of day, it was impossible for her mind to descend to the lower plane wherein his schemes had birth.
He accompanied her and her maid to London, and saw them comfortably quartered at an hotel. He it was who elected next day to escort Lady Elaine to the office of Mr. Worboys. He had no desire to know anything of her business with the old family lawyer, and he remained in the waiting-room without.
In truth, it was but a formal call, and at first Mr. Worboys waited expectantly to hear what Lady Elaine had to say.
She told him briefly of her quarrel with Lady Gaynor and Viscount Rivington’s unexpected help and sympathy.
“You can trust him?” questioned the lawyer. “Do not blind yourself to possible ulterior motives.”
Lady Elaine flushed slightly.
“The Viscount thoroughly understands that all hope in that direction—in the direction of an alliance between us—is at an end. He has even been generous enough to hint that I shall ultimately be no loser by my father’s eccentric will.”
“Ah! you surprise me, Lady Elaine; indeed you do. I am astonished that any man can so easily relinquish so great a prize as yourself and a princely income—particularly when that man is so needy as Viscount Rivington. It is not generally known, but within the last three months the Viscount’s name has been filed in bankruptcyby importunate creditors, and he has only escaped a receiving order by very doubtful practices. He has made known the contents of your father’s will to several money lenders for pecuniary reasons purely, and his marriage with you means, at least, social salvation to him. You wonder how these things come to my ears? My dear child, a lawyer gets such knowledge without any seeking. I only say, be careful of Viscount Rivington.”
“I am deeply sorry for him if all this is true,” Lady Elaine said.
“And now as to your future movements,” went on Mr. Worboys.
“Yes. My maid and I will rent a small house somewhere in the suburbs—until—until——”
“I understand what you mean. Until something lucky happens, eh?” he smiled. “Well, it appears to me that I can do little or nothing for you, Lady Elaine, but remember that I am always at your service. Let me know where you reside when you are settled, and if you require a small advance for furniture or anything of that kind, don’t go to any one else.”
“Thank you, Mr. Worboys; you are extremely kind, but I have a reserve fund amounting to a few hundreds.”
A little later the old lawyer bowed my lady out, and Viscount Rivington escorted her back to her hotel.
The next few days were so full of busy hours that Lady Elaine almost forgot her pitiful lot. The viscount managed to secure a bijou villa within half a mile of Hyde Park. It was a pretty little place, set in an acre of garden, and the whole was surrounded by a high brick wall. To add to its advantage, the villa was already furnished, and the agent who let it to the viscount proudly announced that the last occupant had been a Russian prince.
“I have taken it in my own name,” he explained to Elaine, “to save the bother of references and the needlessexposure consequent upon such a course. You have no idea how loth people are to have responsible business transactions exclusively with ladies. I have paid the rent three months in advance—a matter of fifty guineas, which includes all rates and taxes—so that you will not be bothered by anybody. Here is the key to the house. Now I am leaving London for a week or two to join some friends in Scotland, but if you require anything at my hands, a telegram will promptly bring me back.”
Lady Elaine did not quite like the arrangement, but it was perhaps the best that could be made under the circumstances. It almost appeared that she and her maid were living in a house to which Viscount Rivington alone had legal right. However, she paid him the amount of money he claimed to have disbursed upon her account, and thanked him warmly for the great trouble he had taken in all matters concerning herself.
“I do not think that I shall willingly trespass further upon your kindness,” she told him. “My life is already mapped out, and I shall be content to spend it quietly between the four walls of yonder garden until hope breaks through the dark clouds of the future.”
“Time will dull the edge of your sorrow,” he said, gently, but with a sense of bitter defeat gnawing at his heart. Her very words, the mournful sadness in her tones, sounded the death knell to his hopes. “You cannot live here always—you, the loveliest girl in England—the daughter of an earl! Oh, Lady Elaine, it is impossible!”
He spoke almost passionately.
“I have no other choice—no other wish—until my lover comes back to me,” she said.
The viscount turned away to hide the disappointment—the fury in his eyes.
“Good-by,” he said, suddenly. “I will send you my addressto your new home in a few days. You will take possession at once?”
“To-morrow,” replied Lady Elaine. “Nina is engaging a servant to-day.”
He went away—a raging demon in his heart.
“Lady Gaynor was right,” he said to himself. “Force and questionable means must be employed or I am a ruined man! But I have my bird safely caged. She cannot escape me; she shall not, by Heaven! Now have I to conciliate the vampires who seek for my heart’s blood—to prove to them that Lady Elaine is under my protection—living in my house. I know that I no longer belong to myself, and that my life is a living death—all for what?—Money! Money! And when I have humbled myself to these birds of prey, whose talons are red with the blood of human hearts, I have to turn toward that old dotard—the Duke of Rothwell, and lie and fawn to him—for what?—Money! Money!”
He ground his teeth with impotent fury, sprang into a cab, and ordered the driver to take him to Oxford Circus, where we will leave him.
In the course of a few days Lady Elaine Seabright was comfortably installed in her new home, and then commenced a weary time of waiting. Two or three of the curious-minded neighbors called at the villa, but she declined to see them. The efforts of the clergyman who claimed that respective district were equally futile, and nearly three weeks passed without one word from Viscount Rivington.
Then a letter reached her from the Duke of Rothwell’s country seat. The viscount professed that he had been unable to go to Scotland on account of his uncle’s indisposition. She made no reply to this, and appeared to be growing thinner and whiter every day to the eyes of the watchful Nina.
“My lady,” she said at last, “I am getting frightened. It is killing you in this stifling place. You ought to go for a morning walk every day.”
“Am I really looking ill, Nina?” asked Lady Elaine, listlessly. “Yes,” she added, looking at herself in a mirror. “What a miserable being I shall be when my lover comes home! This will never do, Nina!”
After that Elaine and Nina were often seen in the park, and many people wondered whom the graceful and lovely girl could be.
At length another letter came from the viscount, and with it a newspaper.
This is what he wrote:
My Dear Lady Elaine—I have news for you which you may hate me for sending, but I must honestly confess that I cannot withhold it, for the very reason that it may influence you to look more favorably upon the wishes that are still dearest to my heart. Surely my patience deserves some recognition, and I shall wait in a fever of anxiety for your reply. To be brief, it is proven beyond all doubt that Sir Harold Annesley has been masquerading about the country for some time, and his eccentricities have culminated in his marriage to a young and beautiful girl, named Theresa Hamilton. The ceremony took place a few days since at Tenterden Church, and I forward to you a copy of theTelegraph, containing a description of the wedding. I do not wish to force my attentions upon you, but I ask you to give me hope. I care not if it is months before I may look to the happy consummation of my soul’s delightful desire. I only want hope, after your most careful consideration. I love you, and shall ever love you! Till death, yours alone,Rivington.
My Dear Lady Elaine—I have news for you which you may hate me for sending, but I must honestly confess that I cannot withhold it, for the very reason that it may influence you to look more favorably upon the wishes that are still dearest to my heart. Surely my patience deserves some recognition, and I shall wait in a fever of anxiety for your reply. To be brief, it is proven beyond all doubt that Sir Harold Annesley has been masquerading about the country for some time, and his eccentricities have culminated in his marriage to a young and beautiful girl, named Theresa Hamilton. The ceremony took place a few days since at Tenterden Church, and I forward to you a copy of theTelegraph, containing a description of the wedding. I do not wish to force my attentions upon you, but I ask you to give me hope. I care not if it is months before I may look to the happy consummation of my soul’s delightful desire. I only want hope, after your most careful consideration. I love you, and shall ever love you! Till death, yours alone,
Rivington.
Lady Elaine read this extraordinary letter with the numbness of an awful despair at her heart. Hope! how could he dream of hope?
Then she opened the newspaper, and saw a paragraph ruled round with red ink that looked like blood.
It was true then—all true! She sat for an hour dimlycomprehending the fact that life was at last ended for her. Sir Harold was her lover no longer! Sir Harold—her darling, her king—belonged to another!
She mechanically penned a few words to the viscount, as follows:
Your letter has filled me with pain. I thought that you understood. I can give you no hope—absolutely none. I shall never marry. My love has been given, and is lost. My heart is dead.Elaine Seabright.
Your letter has filled me with pain. I thought that you understood. I can give you no hope—absolutely none. I shall never marry. My love has been given, and is lost. My heart is dead.
Elaine Seabright.
She told nothing of the crushing facts to Nina until the next day, when they went for their usual walk in Hyde Park, and the girl listened in wonderment and with righteous indignation.
The letter to the viscount was posted, and they were returning homeward, when Nina noticed the figure of a man that seemed to be familiar, reclining on one of the park benches.
When they came nearer to him, the girl’s eyes dilated wildly and she screamed loudly:
“Oh, my lady! my lady! It is Sir Harold himself!”
Then Lady Elaine forgot the news of his marriage, and cast herself at his feet in a paroxysm of tears.