CHAPTER XXXIVCONSTERNATION OF THE COOLIDGES
During all those hours so full of adventure to Brownie, Mrs. Coolidge and Isabel had been sleeping heavily, for both had been well-nigh overcome with the excitement of the evening previous, and a sense of their own guilt in the matter of the young companion’s disappearance.
They did not wake until quite late the next morning, when Mrs. Coolidge’s first act was to order a good hot breakfast, telling the servant that she did not feel able to go down to eat with the family.
As soon as the servant departed, and she was assured that the guests were all assembled in the dining-room, she crept into Isabel’s room, and together they sought their prisoner.
They drew the bolt, and pushed the door open cautiously. All was silent and dark within, for the candle had burned down to the socket, and then gone out.
They entered and called Brownie by name.
There was no reply, and with a nameless fear in her heart, Isabel rushed back into her own room, lighted another candle, and returned to explore the cell.
One glance served to show that it was empty!
But with the vain hope that all guilty people have they began turning over the mattress and bedclothes, as if they expected to find her concealed underneath them.
“Where can she be?” gasped Isabel, white as the wrapper which she wore, and shaking as with the ague.
Mrs. Coolidge shook her head, and looked up at the small grated window above them.
She mounted upon the chair, and seizing one of the heavy bars, shook it.
It did not so much as move, and even had it been possible to remove it, their captive could not possibly have reached the window to escape, it was set so high in the wall.
“Isabel, I firmly believe that girl is a witch, for none but a spirit could have escaped from this dungeon!”
“Mamma,” exclaimed her daughter, suddenly, “I do not believe you fastened the door last night, and she came out when we were asleep!”
“How foolish you are,” was the impatient reply. “I am very sure that I shoved the bolt, and I do not believe it possible that she could have worked upon the door in any way to have slipped it back.”
However, to satisfy themselves, they went out, shut and bolted the door, and then tried, by gentle working it back and forth, to see if the bolt would slip.
No; it remained firm and tight, and the matter still continued to be a mystery, and a terribly tantalizing one, too.
They tried all the different doors leading from their own rooms into the corridors, but all were locked, excepting the one by which the servant who had brought the breakfast had entered, and Mrs. Coolidge had been obliged to rise to admit her, so that they knew it could not have been possible for Brownie to have escaped that way.
They knew well enough if Brownie had escaped and returned to her post, that the deepest shame and disgrace awaited them.
They little thought, however, during their anxious and almost ludicrous search in the cell, a pair of keen, bright eyes had been earnestly regarding them, while it must be confessed that Herbert Randal never enjoyed anything in his life so much as their anxiety and discomfiture regarding the beautiful maiden whom he had so opportunely aided.
The two disappointed plotters were, however, somewhat reassured, upon descending to the drawing-room, to find that Brownie’s disappearance was still the theme of conversation, together with the startling announcement which Adrian Dredmond had made.
Lady Randal looked anxious and annoyed, and was somewhat irritable.
Lady Ruxley was too ill to rise, being overcome with solicitude as to the fate of her companion, a fact which was received with the most cheerful resignation by most of the company, since it relieved them from the sting of her sharp tongue.
Sir Charles was very grave and preoccupied, and while he was not exactly cool, yet there was a certain dignity about him which somewhat awed his betrothed. There were some things which he could not understand, in particular, Adrian’s stern words and manner to Mrs. Coolidge, which the more he thought about them the more mysterious and inexplicable they became.
Altogether it was not the happiest company in Christendom that assembled in the Vallingham Hall drawing-room that morning.
Every door that opened made Isabel and her mother quake with fear, and both would gladly have given up every jewel in their possession to have been freed from that horrible suspense.
Several days passed, and still there was no news. Their anxiety began to abate, and with every passing hour they breathed more freely, yet that puzzled, wearing question was ever before them:
“Where is she?”
The drawing-room concert, or musicalsoirée, came off according to appointment, but did not prove very satisfactory. It was not really a failure, but there was a lack of inspiration which made everything drag, and it was with a uniform sense of relief that at the end of the week the gay company dispersed, while Sir Charles, Lady Randal, Isabel, and her mother departed for Paris, intent upon the all-importanttrousseau.
The two latter were only too eager to plunge into the pleasures of the gay French metropolis, and busy themselves with the cares which the next few weeks would involve, hoping thus to drive more unpleasant thoughts out of mind.
When Adrian Dredmond recognized his betrothed in the dim light of that dismal morning, he sprang forward with a cry of joy, mingled with dismay, and folded her close within his arms, while Brownie, utterly overcome by the reaction from excessive fright to a sense of security, and that her troubles were all over, burst into nervous sobbing, and clung to him with a grip so fierce that he was startled.
“My darling, my darling, what does all this mean?” he asked, soothingly.
But she could not tell him; the floodgates were open, and the storm must spend itself ere the calm would come; the restraint which she had imposed upon herself had been so resolute and of such long duration that, now she had once given the rein to her feelings, it was not easy to regain her self-control.
“My precious one,” Adrian continued, “I have been searching for you all night long. I came hither to see you last evening, and they told me you had disappeared in the most mysterious manner. Not knowing which way to turn to find you, I started for Dunforth again in despair, but something seemed to be holding me back, and I have roamed over the park and the forest, the highways and byways, all night. As daylight approached, I resolved to return to the Hall and inquire if any clew had been gained during the night, and then I saw you coming through this grove. Dearest, how cold you are,” he added, tenderly, “and how you tremble. Did I frighten you? Come back into the shadow of yonder chapel, and tell me how it is that I find you thus alone and unprotected from the cold night air.”
He wrapped his cloak about her, for the mist was settling down into a fine rain, while the air grew more piercing and chill, and he almost bore her back to the door of the old chapel, where they were screened from observation and protected somewhat from the wind.
He chafed the little icy, quivering hands, and kissed the warmth and color back to her pale cheeks. But it was long before she was herself again, for now that she realized that she was safe, her strength all forsook her, and she lay almost lifeless in his arms. But at last she was able to whisper something of the story of her fearful experience, and a mighty wrath arose in his heart against the authors of it all.
“I mistrusted they might have had some hand in it last night, but they shall pay dearly for this shameless insult to you, my dearest,” he muttered, between his set teeth.
Then he became suddenly silent and thoughtful, but still holding her form in his loving embrace, until she grewwarm and strong again, while a sense of security and happiness began to steal over her, until she felt that she could return to the Hall, if need be, and face them without a tremor, with him by her side.
But he had been revolving other matters in his mind. He had been greatly startled and surprised to learn that Lady Randal had another son, and had been criminally concealing it all these years, and he classed her with the others as a false and heartless woman.
He knew that Lady Ruxley was very fond of her companion, but he knew her temperament, and was unwilling that Brownie should remain longer with her in that capacity, while, after the events which had so recently transpired, he did not deem it wise to seek her as a protector for the young girl, as he had planned to do, for any length of time. He could not feel safe about her while the Coolidges were near.
Finally, he raised the beautiful face which was resting against his bosom, and, with a look of infinite tenderness, asked:
“Darling, it is settled, is it not, that you belong to me now?”
“Yes, Adrian, wholly.”
“And you will trust me fully, from this time forth?”
“I trust you fully,” and the little hands fluttered confidingly in his.
“Then, little one—my Brownie, will you come to me now, and let me make you my own wife to-day—or at least as soon as that is possible? I feel that I cannot allow you to be exposed to such suffering and insult for another hour.”
He felt her heart leap against his own at his words, but she did not reply.
“Darling,” he questioned, “am I putting your love and faith in me to too severe a test?”
“To-day! so soon—oh, Adrian!” she whispered, and he could see wave on wave of rich color surging up over her lovely face.
“Will you love me better by waiting a week—a month—or a year?” he asked, gravely.
“No, oh, no!” she said, quickly.
“Can you bear for a moment to think of going back to the old life?”
She nestled closer to her lover, and he answered for her:
“No, dear, you cannot; and you have nowhere else on earth to go but to the one who loves you best, Brownie,” he continued, with tender authority, “you are mine—you have freely given yourself to me, and now I am not willing that you should go back to face those wolves until I have an indisputable right to go with you to demand proper respect for you, and the restitution of your property, without the possibility of a repetition of the insult and suffering to which you have heretofore been subjected. I know all the objections you would raise,” he went on. “I have thought them all over carefully. Lady Ruxley’s anxiety upon your account; the misconstruction which will be put upon your mysterious absence; the notoriety of a clandestine marriage, etc. But I think it will do them all good to suffer a little upon your account, without it is Lady Ruxley. And as to the other reasons, I do not care a straw for them. In fact, our marriage will not be so very secret, since I announced the fact of our engagement to the whole company assembled in the drawing-room last evening, and told Sir Charles I should marry you just as soon as possible.”
“Adrian! did you do that?” demanded Brownie, looking up astonished.
“Certainly I did. You do not suppose I could sit tamely by and listen to all their remarks and surmises without making an effort to silence them, do you?”
“But it was very brave and noble in you—few would have braved public opinion like that,” and she lifted her red lips to give him a voluntary kiss of gratitude.
“What had I to brave, my darling? I shall be proud to call you by that dearest name in the world—wife; and since they all know now that I mean to make you such, they cannot say that you have run away with me. We will go to London to-day. I will get a special license, and you shall be my wife to-morrow.”
“But—but——” she began, with a troubled face.
“No, dear,” he interrupted smiling, as he read her thought, “you shall not go alone with me. My old nurseand her daughter shall go with us to make everything proper. Nurse Clum will do anything in the world for me, and keep any secret I intrust to her. Milly, her daughter, has long been trying to get a situation as lady’s maid, and we will make one for her at once, thus doing a charitable deed, as well as make ourselves happy. In a week’s time, less if you desire, we will return to Vallingham Hall, claim our property, and right that other wrong; while with me by your side, you will be freed from the possibility of insult from any one. Will you go with me, dear?”
“But you have relatives, I fear——”
“I am my own master, my darling, and no one can say me nay upon this most vital point,” he replied, gravely, yet with decision.
“I will go with you, Adrian,” she said, simply.
“Bless you, my own!” he exclaimed, joyfully, then added, in tones of regret: “It is not a fitting way to wed you, I know—not as I had fondly hoped it would be, when I planned to lead you before my friends, and wed you openly, as befits your station and mine; but,” he added lightly, “when once we are settled we will make a great feast, and all shall do honor to my wife. But we must not delay longer if we would escape observation. But, first, I have something for you—I brought it last evening.” He then took the ring from his pocket and put it upon her finger, saying as he did so: “There, that seals our vows so far.”
He then took his cloak from his own shoulders, and, wrapping it closely around her, led her by an unfrequented path to the spot where he had left his carriage.
He drove directly to Nurse Clum’s, where, giving his betrothed into Milly’s hands to be fed and cared for, he secured a private interview with the former, told her his plans, and what he thought necessary of the circumstances which seemed to make them advisable.
The faithful old nurse shook her head when he told her that he was braving his grandfather’s displeasure; but she saw he was determined upon the course he had marked out, and she could not say him nay.
Milly was delighted at the prospect of being lady’smaid to a bride, and was charmed with the sweet lady who was to be Master Adrian’s wife.
They took as early a train as possible from West Malling, in order to escape observation, and before noon they were all comfortably settled in London, Brownie and her two companions having an elegant suite of rooms at the Langham Hotel, in Portland Place, the most fashionable quarter of the city, while Adrian returned to his own private apartments in St. James Street.
Before sundown he had procured the special license, and believed himself the happiest man alive, the only cloud being the disapproval of his grandfather, and this, he trusted, time would overcome.
Meantime, Brownie, in company with Milly, visited a fashionable ladies’ furnishing house, and procured the most suitable outfit it was possible to procure at so short a notice, and gave orders for several other articles of apparel which she would need in the future.
The next morning a quiet little wedding party alighted at St. George’s Church, Hanover Square, at eleven o’clock, and, leading his beautiful betrothed proudly up the grand aisle, Adrian Dredmond stopped before the gray-haired rector, and the twain were made one.
It was a very sweet but solemn face which looked up into Adrian’s when he paused a moment in the vestibule and whispered, tenderly:
“God bless my own wife!”
But her eyes, as he pressed that first kiss upon her lips, were full of happiness and trust, and he knew that he had it in his power to make her life very bright. It was well for him, however, that he had not betrayed to her the fact of his grandfather’s disapproval, nor what he was likely to forfeit by his alliance with her, else all the pride of a royal race would have risen within her, and that fair April day would not have seen Brownie Douglas, Adrian Dredmond’s bride!