On quitting the cabinet, the door of which was locked, and, taking the key with her, Mrs. Calverley went out into the garden, looking, apparently, quite cheerful, though she had an anxious breast, and had just sat down on a lawn chair, when a letter that had arrived by post was brought her by Laura.
As yet, Mrs. Calverley had said nothing to her lady's-maid about the restoration of the will, as she thought it best to leave that matter in doubt for the present, and she now allowed her to depart without any allusion to the subject. Indeed, she was dying to read her letter, which she saw was from Lord Courland.
It was just such a letter as might have been expected from him, but there were some passages in it that produced an effect contrary to that intended by her noble suitor, and heightened her uneasiness.
“I must write you a line, dearest Teresa,” he began, “though I have nothing to say, except to tell you how supremely wretched I feel now you are gone. However, I try to console myself by the thought that I shall soon behold you again, and in your own house, which I long so much to see—as it will be my abode when I am made the happiest of mortals by the possession of your hand.
“I have to thank Mr. Calverley for two things—first, that he was considerate enough to die; and secondly, that he left his large property at your entire disposal. I shall always entertain the highest respect for his memory.
“This may seem rather heartless jesting, sweet Teresa, but it is the simple expression of my feelings. Really, very few men would have behaved so well as your late husband, but he fully appreciated you. I wish I could follow his example—not by quitting you, for I don't intend to do that, if I can help it, for many years to come—but by making a handsome settlement upon you.
“Fortunately, you have enough—enough for us both—and I cannot sufficiently thank you for your kind promises. My devotion shall prove my gratitude. Ouselcroft, you tell me, is a charming place, and I ought not to accept it, or any share in it; but I can refuse nothing you offer me—not even that priceless treasure, yourself.
“I do not ask you to write to me, though one word would enchant me, and enable me to endure this separation.
“Adieu, sweet Teresa! I shall count the minutes till we meet.”
The perusal of this letter gave Mrs. Calverley infinitely more pain than pleasure, for she now feared she should never be able to carry out her noble suitor's wishes, and she saw plainly that he would not be content with the income derived from her settlement.
She read the letter again, and this conviction struck her even more forcibly on the second perusal.
She revolved the matter in her mind very deliberately.
What could she do?
Dark thoughts possessed her. There seemed only one way of extricating herself from the difficulty. She shrank from it; but it recurred again and again, till she became F=familiarised with the idea, and it appeared less dreadful than at first.
The step seemed unavoidable.
She resolved to answer Lord Courland's letter, but very briefly, and to make no allusion to her promises to him, though he seemed to expect it.
She was still buried in thought when Laura came to her, and with the familiarity which this favourite attendant usually displayed, said:
“Dear me, ma'am, you look dreadfully pale! I hope nothing has gone wrong?”
“Nothing whatever,” replied Mrs. Calverley, with a forced smile. “I have had a most charming letter from Lord Courland. But I feel rather faint. The air doesn't seem to revive me, so I shall go in-doors.” And she arose.
“I came to tell you, ma'am,” said Laura, “that old Norris is greatly obliged by your kind promise to him. He says he now feels quite easy.”
“There was no need to trouble himself before,” observed Mrs. Oalverley. “By-the-bye, I haven't told you that the will has been found.”
“Indeed, ma'am! Where?” exclaimed Laura.
“In the top drawer of the escritoire!”
“I'm sure I searched that drawer, ma'am!”
“Mr. Carteret found it at once. But don't say anything more about it. I don't want the matter talked about. By-the-bye, I mean to drive over to Brackley in the pony-carriage this afternoon, and shall take you with me.”
“I'm always pleased with a drive, ma'am, especially to Brackley,” replied Laura.
As they entered the house, they met the aged butler, who bowed respectfully to his mistress.
“Much obliged to you for thinking of me, ma'am,” he said. “You've always shown me great kindness.”
“Not more than you deserve, Norris,” she replied graciously. “It was quite a misapprehension, I assure you. I never intended to part with you, and should never think of doing so without making you a comfortable provision.”
“I'd rather stay where I am, ma'am,” replied the butler. “After living in it for half a century, a man gets attached to a house.”
“Then rest easy, Norris,” she rejoined. “You shall stay here to the last—that I promise you.”
The old butler muttered his thanks, for he felt rather husky, and Mrs. Calverley went up-stairs to her own room.
After closing the door, Mrs. Calverley approached the large Psyche that stood opposite her, and ejaculated, “No wonder Laura was struck by my appearance! I do look frightfully pale! I must take care my looks don't betray me.”
But her countenance assumed a deathly hue, and her limbs seemed scarcely able to support her as she moved towards the door communicating with, the dressing-room.
There she stopped, her entrance, apparently, being barred by a shadowy figure resembling her dead husband.
But Teresa, as we have shown, was a woman of high courage, and not to be daunted by superstitious fears.
Convinced that the figure was a mere effect of her imagination, she passed into the inner room, and then, standing still for a moment till she had quite recovered her self-possession, proceeded to unlock a large dressing-box that stood upon the toilet-table, and took from it a small casket apparently containing scent bottles.
When the casket, in its turn, was unlocked by a diminutive and peculiarly-shaped key, four very small phials were disclosed.
Teresa selected one of them, filled, as it seemed, with a very bright spirit, held it up for a moment, and then, taking out the stopper, breathed at the contents of the phial.
Just then a slight noise disturbed her, and she became aware that she was watched by Laura, who was standing at the bed-room door.
Though appalled at the sight, she exhibited no sign of alarm, but with the utmost coolness said:
“I thought someeau-de-lucewould do me good. I always take it for themigrainefrom which I am now suffering. But you need not stay. Order the pony-carriage in half an hour, and be ready yourself by that time, Laura.”
Not for an instant doubting the truth of what she was told, Laura withdrew; and she was no sooner gone than Mrs. Calverley wrapped the small phial in her embroidered pocket-handkerchief, and then replaced the casket, and carefully locked the dressing-box.
Half an hour later, Mrs. Calverley, who had completely recovered, and, indeed, looked remarkably well, drove over to Brackley in the pony-carriage, attended by Laura and a groom.
The two girls were in the garden when she arrived at the Hall, but Lady Barfleur, who was much impressed by the brilliant engagement Mrs. Calverly had formed, received her with great ceremony.
“Accept my congratulations, dear Mrs. Calverley!” she said. “I felt sure you would marry well, but I did not expect you would make such a great match as this. You are fortunate in every respect, it seems, for Emmeline tells me Lord Courland is exceedingly good-looking and agreeable. I hope he may like Ouselcroft. I should be very sorry if you left this part of the country.”
“Don't be alarmed, dear Lady Barfleur,” rejoined Mrs. Calverley. “I should never think of leaving Ouselcroft, and I am persuaded Lord Courland will be pleased with the place. I expect him on Thursday.”
“You must all come and dine with me during his stay. I don't give dinners now, as you know, but I must see him.”
“He will be delighted to dine with you, I am sure. But I must bring him over some morning to see the old Hall.”
“By all means,” replied Lady Barfleur. “You will always be welcome.”
Here the two girls came in fresh from the garden. Emmeline looked blooming and full of spirits, but Mildred complained of slight indisposition, and, in fact, did not seem very well.
Mrs. Calverley noticed these symptoms with secret satisfaction. They favoured her dark design.
“You seem rather poorly this morning, my love,” she said.
“I am a little out of sorts,” replied Mildred. “I think I caught cold on the journey. But I shall soon be better.”
“Better when a certain person arrives,” whispered Emmeline. “Well, he will be here this evening, or to-morrow at latest. Don't fall ill before he comes!”
“Unfeeling creature!” exclaimed Mildred, with a sickly smile.
Just then, the luncheon-bell was rung, and the ladies proceeded to the dining-room.
It might have been noticed—if such a trifling circumstance could attract attention—that Mrs. Calverley carried her embroidered kerchief in her hand.
While they were crossing the hall, the Reverend Mr. Massey made his appearance, and after saluting Lady Barfleur and the others, went in with them to luncheon.
As they took their seats at table, Mrs. Calverley easily managed to get a place next her step-daughter.
Some little progress had been made with the repast, which it is supposed ladies enjoy more than dinner, when Emmeline remarked:
“You must let us have some champagne to-day, mamma, please. Mildred is rather out of spirits.”
The proposition was seconded by the chaplain, who was always exceedingly cheerful, and had been conversing very agreeably with Lady Barfleur. So the wine was brought and handed round by the butler.
“You must not refuse, Mildred,” cried Emmeline. “The champagne was ordered expressly for you.”
“And for me,” added the chaplain, laughing.
“For you as well,” said Emmeline. “You are entitled to a second glass.”
Even as the words were spoken, with singular boldness and dexterity, and screened by the handkerchief, Mrs. Calverley contrived to let fall two or three poisonous drops from the phial into Mildred's glass.
The action passed completely unnoticed, Mildred's attention being diverted at the moment.
No peculiarity was perceptible in the flavour of the champagne. It seemed excellent, and really believing the exhilarating wine would do her good, Mildred emptied the glass.
In answer to a friendly sign from the chaplain, Mrs. Calverley raised the glass to her lips, but her handkerchief had disappeared.
The enlivening effect of the wine on the party was speedily apparent—except in the instance of Mildred, who began to feel ill, and was obliged to rise from table, and leave the room.
Mrs. Calverley, who seemed greatly concerned, and was very attentive to her, wished her to see Doctor Spencer, but she declined, insisting that it was a mere passing indisposition.
Emmeline was of the same opinion, but Rose Hartley, who bad been summoned to attend her, thought otherwise, and prevailed on her to retire to her own room.
By this time, she had become so faint, that Rose had to assist her to mount the spiral staircase.
To disarm suspicion, Mrs. Calverley remained for an hour, conversing with Lady Barfleur and Mr. Massey, and played her part to perfection—charming them both.
Before setting out on her return, she went up-stairs to see Mildred, and found her lying on a couch with Emmeline and Rose by her side. The glow of the painted glass in the bay-window somewhat disguised the sufferer's paleness.
No touch of pity agitated Teresa's breast as she gazed at her victim. On the contrary, she secretly exulted in the success of her direful attempt. Nevertheless, she inquired with well-feigned solicitude:
“How do you feel now, my love?”
“Somewhat better, I think, mamma,” replied Mildred.
“I am so glad to hear you say so!” remarked Mrs. Calverley. “I hoped to take you and Emmeline back with me to Ouselcroft, but that is quite out of the question now.”
“Quite, ma'am,” observed Rose. “I think Miss Calverley ought to have medical advice.”
“So do I,” rejoined Teresa. “Shall I send for Doctor Spencer, my love?”
“No, mamma,” replied Mildred. “If he comes, I shall be laid up for a week, as I know from sad experience. You recollect how tiresome he was during my last illness, and wouldn't let me stir. I won't have him now, unless I'm obliged.”
“Better let her have her own away,” whispered Emmeline, unconscious that she was playing into Mrs. Calverley's hands. “She wants to see a certain person on his arrival here.”
“Well, you mustn't blame me if any harm ensues,” rejoined Teresa. “I really think she ought to have immediate advice.”
Rose looked imploringly at her, but did not venture to remonstrate.
“Well, I shall come over to-morrow morning,” said Mrs. Calverley; “and then——”
“What then?” asked Mildred, faintly.
“I shall go and fetch Doctor Spencer myself, unless you contrive to get well in the interim. However, I shall feel easy about you, knowing you're in good hands.”
“Yes; Rose and I will take every care of her,” said Emmeline.
“Don't bring Doctor Spencer, or send him, till you see me again, I beg, mamma,” said Mildred. “Promise me that.”
Mrs. Calverley gave the required promise, though with apparent reluctance.
As she bade her victim adieu, and kissed her fevered brow, Mildred instinctively recoiled from the contact of her lips.
No trace of anxiety could be discerned on Mrs. Calverley's beautiful countenance as she drove back to Ouselcroft with Laura by her side. On the contrary, she seemed quite elated.
Struck by her want of feeling, the lady's-maid said:
“I am sorry to hear Miss Mildred has been taken ill.”
“Oh, there is nothing much the matter,” rejoined Mrs. Calverley. “She has been slightly indisposed all the morning, and something disagreed with her at luncheon.”
“Glad to hear it, ma'am. I was afraid from what Rose Hartley said, it was a serious attack.”
“Oh, no,” replied Mrs. Calverley. “She thought so little of it herself, that she wouldn't let me send for Doctor Spencer. I shall drive over again to-morrow, and trust to find her quite recovered.”
“I should think a littleeau-de-lucewould do her good, ma'am?” remarked Laura.
“Why do you think so?” asked Mrs. Calverley > startled.
“She seems to have had such a sudden seizure, like yourself, ma'am.”
“Mine was merely a violent headache, Laura, accompanied by faintness. Ah!” she exclaimed, in real alarm, after vainly searching for it in her bag. “What did I do with my handkerchief? I hope I haven't left it behind!”
“No; it's here, ma'am,” replied Laura, giving it her. “You had laid it on the seat.”
“Oh! thank you, Laura,” cried Mrs. Oalverley, looking inexpressibly relieved.
And squeezing the handkerchief to make sure the phial was safe inside it, she put it into her bag.
“I wonder why she was so agitated just now?” thought Laura.
All signs of exultation had now vanished from Mrs. Calverley's countenance, and she looked thoughtful and uneasy during the rest of the drive, and scarcely made a remark to Laura, who could not account for the sudden and extraordinary change in her mood.
On arriving at Ouselcroft, she went upstairs almost immediately to her own room, but, contrary to custom, and greatly to the surprise of the lady's-maid, did not take her with her.
This time, on going into her dressing-room, she did not neglect to lock both doors.
Feeling now safe from intrusion, she sat down to reflect. But there was such a turmoil in her breast, such confusion in her brain, that she found it impossible to do so calmly.
The fancied loss of her handkerchief, with the phial inside it, which, if it had really occurred, must have inevitably led to the discovery of the terrible crime she had committed, had completely unnerved her.
All was now quiet, but when the dreadful catastrophe occurred, suspicion would be instantly aroused, and the slightest circumstance that bore upon the dark deed would be weighed and examined.
The will, which had been prepared by Carteret, and which, she could not doubt, had been read by Norris, supplied the motive of the crime; inasmuch as it showed that her step-daughter's death would be extraordinarily advantageous to herself—so advantageous, indeed, as almost to suggest Mildred's removal.
Evidence sufficient to condemn her could be furnished by Laura, whose strange curiosity had enabled her to become a fatal witness against her.
When she clearly understood the frightful position in which she was placed, her terror increased, and she would have given all she possessed, and all she hoped to gain, if the deed could be undone.
So agonising were her remorseful feelings, that life had become intolerable; she resolved to put an end to it, and by the same means she had employed to remove Mildred. She had not yet put by the phial, though she had come thither for the express purpose of doing so. With a terrible feeling of exultation at the thought of escaping the consequences of her last crime, and of another crime equally dreadful that still weighed upon her conscience, she raised the phial to her lips, with the intention of swallowing the whole of its deadly contents.
But her fatal purpose was arrested by a tap at the bedroom door.
For a few moments, she could scarcely collect her thoughts, and when she spoke, her voice was hoarse.
“Who is it?” she demanded.
“Laura,” replied the person in the bedroom. “May I come in?”
“No,” rejoined the wretched Teresa.
“I have only come to tell you that Mr. Chetwynd has just arrived with two young men,” said Laura.
The mention of that name produced an instantaneous effect on Mrs. Calverley, and dispelled her fears.
Even if he had come to charge her with her crime, she would have met him and defied him.
“Tell Mr. Chetwynd I will come down directly,” she said in a firm voice. “Who are the persons with him? Do you know them?”
“They are two young men whom I saw at Lady Thicknesse's, ma'am—Mr. Harry Netterville and Mr. Tom Tankard. I don't know what business they've come about, but I fancy it relates to Rose Hartley—Miss Barfleur's lady's-maid.”
Completely reassured by this remark, Mrs. Calverley told Laura to go down at once, and desire Norris to offer the young men some refreshment; and as soon as she found that the inquisitive lady's-maid had departed, she unlocked the dressing-box, replaced the phial in the casket, and then, having made all secure, went down-stairs.
“What has happened?” she said to Chetwynd. “I thought you were staying with Sir Bridgnorth?”
“I have only just come from Charlton,” he replied. “We have got a strange business on hand, as you will admit when you learn what it is. You have heard me speak of an infamous scoundrel named Romney. Well, it seems that this daring libertine, who for some time has persecuted Rose Hartley with his addresses, has resolved to carry her off from Brackley.”
“Such audacity seems scarcely credible!” exclaimed Mrs. Calverley.
“It is, nevertheless, certain he is about to make the attempt this very night,” said Netterville. “My friend Tom Tankard discovered his design in a very singular manner, as he will tell you.”
“Yes, ma'am,” said Tom, with one of his best bows; “I went to get my hair cut yesterday by acoiffoornamed Sigebert Smart, and while I was undergoing the operation, Sigebert, who is rather too familiar, says to me, 'Do you remember Rose Hartley, Mr. Tom' 'To be sure I do!' says I. 'And a very pretty girl she is. She has gone to Brackley Hall, in Cheshire, with Miss Barfleur and Miss Calverley.' 'But she won't remain there long,' remarked Sigebert. 'Why not?' says I. 'Don't she like the place?' 'Can't tell about that,' observed Sigebert. 'But there's a gentleman going to look after her.' 'Indeed!' says I, pricking up my ears—for I thought of my friend, Harry Netterville. 'It won't be any use if he does.' 'You're very much mistaken there, Mr. Tom,' says he, with a knowing look. 'I'm going with him!' 'You!' says I, in astonishment. 'Yes; and if we can't manage it, the deuce is in it!' 'Manage what?' says I. 'You don't mean to carry her off?' 'That will depend,' said he. 'There may be anenlevement.But I dare say she'll come willingly enough.”
“On hearing this, I said no more to alarm him, for I knew who he meant, and wished to catch the rascal. But I presently inquired, 'When do you set out on this expedition?' 'To-morrow,' he replied. 'We shall get down to Brackley Hall in the dusk of the evening. But don't go and talk about it—especially to Harry Netterville—or you'll spoil all.'
“I promised to keep silence, but had no sooner left the rascally hairdresser's shop than I took a cab, and drove to Gray's Inn to see Harry, and tell him what I had found out. At first, he didn't believe it.”
“I couldn't,” said Netterville. “The attempt seemed too wild; but Tom convinced me it would be made. We then arranged our plans, and having ascertained from Lady Thicknesse's butler, Higgins, that Mr. Chetwynd Calverley had gone to spend a few days with Sir Bridgnorth Charlton, we set off for Stafford early this morning, and saw Mr. Calverley, hoping he might feel disposed to accompany us, and he did not hesitate a moment.”
“No,” cried Chetwynd; “and I confess the intelligence you brought gave me the utmost satisfaction, for I felt that at last Romney had delivered himself into my hands. I judged it best to come on here, instead of proceeding direct to Brackley,” he added to Mrs. Calverley, “as I feared to alarm the rascals. But I shall send over a note to warn Rose, and give her some instructions. Romney must not escape me!”
“I should be very sorry for that,” said Mrs.
Calverley. “But it is rather unlucky that Mildred should have been taken ill this morning, and Rose is obliged to be in attendance upon her.”
“She is not seriously ill, I trust?” inquired Chetwynd, anxiously.
“No; and Emmeline can stay with her, while Rose leaves her for a time,” said Mrs. Calverley.
“Nothing more will be needful,” said Chetwynd.
Then turning to Netterville, and pointing to the writing materials on the table, he added, “Sit down and prepare a note to Rose, and I will send it off a once by a groom to Brackley, together with another letter from myself.”
So saying, he quitted the library with Mrs. Calverley, but presently returned for Netterville's letter which he gave to the groom, enjoining him to set off at once.
Meanwhile, Norris came to the library, and invited the two young men to come to the butler's pantry where a substantial repast was set out for then together with a bottle of claret.
“I say, Harry,” remarked Tom, as he discussed the pigeon-pie, and quaffed the claret, “I shouldn' mind an expedition like this every day, if I could insure such prog. And what a beautiful creature that Mrs. Calverley is! I declare I'm quite in love with her myself. How do you feel?”
“Very comfortable,” replied Harry. “I can think of nothing but Rose.”
“Oh, Rose! lub'ly Rose!” chanted Tom. “Take another glass of claret. That'll cure you!”
On that same evening, about nine o'clock, two individuals, who had recently alighted from a hired carriage at no great distance from Brackley Hall, and had contrived to cross both bridges, traverse the courtyard, and get into the garden—these two persons, we say, were standing near a yew-tree alley, looking towards the ancient mansion, which could be distinguished through the gloom, with its picturesque outline of gables and windows.
There were lights in some of the windows, but the general appearance of the house was exceedingly sombre.
Fortunately for the two individuals we have mentioned, there were no dogs in the court-yard. These protectors were all with the keeper, Ned Rushton. Not even a watch-dog was kept at the Hall, so that no alarm was given.
“Well, I think you may succeed in your design,” said one of the pair, “if you can only contrive to get the girl out of the house. There's the difficulty. The carriage is not more than a quarter of a mile off.”
“We must have it much closer at hand presently,” replied the other. “I wonder we haven't seen Lomax. He ought to be here by this time. I hope he has not played us false. Let us go towards the house.”
On this, they quitted the garden, crossed the moat, and re-entered the court—proceeding with the utmost caution. But there did not seem any one about.
However, they soon discovered that some slight preparations had been made for them.
Reared against the side of the house was a ladder which could easily be shifted to any other spot that was required; and not far from the ladder was an open bay-window without curtains, in the deep recess of which window a candle was set, that illuminated the chamber, and showed Rose was its sole occupant.
This arrangement of things appeared so promising, that it almost looked like a snare.
But Romney did not hesitate. Without giving himself a moment for reflection, he carried the ladder to the open window, mounted as quickly as he could, and sprang into the room, followed by Sigebert.
On seeing them, Rose flew towards the door, but was instantly followed by Romney, who fastened a scarf over her mouth, so as to stifle her cries.
All this was executed with wonderful success, but it is quite possible Rose might have made more noise if she had thought proper. She did not even struggle much when they proceeded to take her through the window.
“She goes very quietly,” thought Sigebert. “I believe we shall have no trouble whatever with her. In my opinion, she's not at all disinclined to be carried off.”
Having got first down the ladder, Sigebert received the precious burden from his principal; but, as soon as Romney landed, he once more took charge of the fair damsel, and endeavoured to get her out of the court.
Hitherto, she had been quiet enough; but she now made a grand disturbance.
She quickly succeeded in tearing the scarf from her face, and then the court rang with her cries; in answer to which came forth Harry Netterville and Tom Tankard, who had been hidden in the old chapel. Each being armed with a stout stick, they soundly belaboured both rascals.
After a while, both caitiffs were released, but only for a worse punishment. As they were running off, in the hope of gaining their carriage, they were stopped by Chetwynd, and taken in charge by a couple of police officers, by whom they were conveyed in their own carriage to Knutsford, where they were locked up in the gaol.
She had not expected such a favourable change, and could not very well account for it; but, for many reasons, she was glad the poison had not taken full effect.
Of course Mildred was still very weak, though rapidly recovering; but, as her symptoms differed in no respect from those of an ordinary illness now, it seemed quite unnecessary to consult Doctor Spencer. Thus the evil woman escaped that danger.
But, though she had been saved the perpetration of this dreadful crime, and its consequences, she felt no regret. No pity touched her heart. Even as she looked at Mildred on that morning, while suffering from the poison she had administered, she resolved to complete her work—but more deliberately, so that there should be no possibility of detection. While thus planning Mildred's destruction, she feigned the greatest affection for her, and seemed beyond measure rejoiced at her recovery. Perhaps, she rather overacted her part; for both Mildred and Emmeline doubted her sincerity.
However, since this favourable change had taken place, she now proposed that both girls should come over to Ouselcroft next day, and bring Rose Hartley with them. Mildred felt sure she should be quite well by that time, so the proposition was agreed to.
At this particular juncture, Mrs. Calverley's great desire was to render herself agreeable to everybody. She, therefore, pretended to take a great interest in Rose Hartley, and made her give her full particulars of the intendedenlèvement.From Rose she learnt that all had been prepared for the intruders, and that Romney and his companion had completely fallen into the trap.
“Miss Barfleur was good enough to lend me her room for the occasion,” said Rose, “as it was very conveniently situated for our plan, and we hoped they would venture into the house. And so they did. Taking the ladder, which had been placed close at hand, ready for them, they mounted to the window, got into the room, seized me, tied a scarf over my mouth, and carried me off. But I was soon free; while my assailants, after receiving a sound thrashing from Harry Netterville and Tom Tankard, were taken in their own chaise to Knutsford Gaol, where they are likely to remain some time; so that, at last, I am rid of my persecutor!”
“I am glad of it,” cried Mrs. Calverley. “The business was capitally managed. But where are Harry Netterville and his friend?”
“They are still here, ma'am,” replied Rose. “And perhaps they may remain for a day or so.”
“Ask them to come over to Ouselcroft to-morrow,” said Mrs. Calverley. “I will direct Mr. Norris to take care of them. We shall have some festivities going on.”
“I'm sure it is very kind of you, ma'am,” said Rose. “They will be delighted with the invitation. The young ladies, I believe, are going to you to-morrow?”
“Yes; and you will come with them,” said Mrs. Calverley. “Therefore I make this proposition in regard to your friends, thinking it may be agreeable to you.”
“It is most agreeable to me, ma'am,” said Rose. “And I am exceedingly obliged to you. A few days at two such charming country-houses as Brackley and Ouselcroft will be a great treat to Harry and his friend.”
“Well, I hope they may enjoy themselves,” said Teresa. “And now take care to get Miss Calverley quite well by to-morrow. We mustn't have any more illness.”
“Oh, she'll get well to-day, ma'am, I'm sure,” said Rose, with a significant look. “Captain Danvers is expected!”
The tact and good-nature displayed by Mrs. Calverley quite charmed Rose, who had not previously a very great liking for her.
The two young men were enchanted by the invitation to Ouselcroft. Tom Tankard had fallen desperately in love with Mrs. Calverley. His egregious vanity made him imagine she was struck by his appearance, and he fancied it was on his account that he and Netterville were invited to Ouselcroft.
The first opened by the lady was one from Lord Courland, as full of ardour and passion as his last letter, but considerably shorter.
Its chief object was to mention that he and Scrope Danvers would make their appearance in plenty of time for dinner. But he added, as a postscript, that he was dying with curiosity to behold Ouselcroft.
“The place is not yet mine,” thought Teresa. “But rest easy. You shall not be disappointed. My project is only deferred.”
The next letter opened was from Lady Thicknesse. This was quite unexpected. Her ladyship had talked of coming to Ouselcroft, but at a later date. She now volunteered a visit. But we must give her own words:
“You have pressed me so strongly to come to you, dear Mrs. Calverley, that I cannot resist. I propose to come to you to-morrow about mid-day. I have got a surprise for you. You will wonder what it is; but as you will never guess, I must tell you I am bringing with me mychef, Zephyrus, and I place him at your disposal.”
“Charming!” exclaimed Teresa. “This will be a great delight to Lord Courland. I know how highly he appreciates Monsieur Zephyrus's performances. Nothing could please me better. But he is not the only one, it seems. I shall have an entirely new household.”
“I shall also venture to bring with me my butler, Higgins. He is a very clever man, and I think you will find him useful; but if he is at all in the way, he can go on to Brackley.”
“Oh, I am so glad Higgins is coming!” cried Mrs. Calverley. “He will be of the greatest use, and will enable me to get rid of that suspicious old Norris, whose eye seems ever upon me. But stop! I must not offend old Norris, or I shall arouse another enemy. He must be kept in the background as much as possible. So far, my letters have been very satisfactory. Here is another, and I think it is from Sir Bridgnorth Charlton. Let us see what he says.”
“Since Chetwynd does not seem disposed to return, I must come to Ouselcroft. Have you room for me for two or three days?”
“Plenty of room, and shall be delighted to see him!” remarked Mrs. Calverley. “Here's a note from Captain Danvers,” she added, with indifference. “They all seem resolved to come here. Well, I dare say I shall be able to accommodate him.”
But, besides these, there was one person on whom nobody counted.
This was Mr. Tankard. He had written a letter to Chetwynd, saying he was coming with his friend, Mr. Higgins, and hoping it might not be considered a liberty.
Chetwynd went at once to Norris; and the old butler, glad to find that Higgins was coming to see him, undertook that beds should be prepared for that important personage and Tankard—to say nothing of Harry Netterville, Tom Tankard, and Zephyrus.
With such a party below stairs, it seemed more than probable that some of the gaieties of Belgrave-square might be repeated at Ouselcroft.
Having ascertained the train by which Lady Thick-nesse must of necessity arrive, Mrs. Calverley met her at the station in her pony-carriage.
The whole of the luggage, which was rather cumbrous, together with Zephyrus, Higgins, and Tankard, came by a special omnibus.
Lady Thicknesse was one of the very few persons whom Mrs. Calverley really liked, and she showed she was glad to see her. The day happened to be fine, so they had an extremely pleasant drive of five or six miles to Ouselcroft.
Lady Thicknesse was in high good humour, and disposed to be pleased with everything. The approach to the house charmed her. Properly speaking, there was no park, but there was a good deal of land that had a very park-like character, being tolerably well timbered, while all the hedges were taken down.
As the carriage was stopped for a moment at a good point of view. Lady Thicknesse exclaimed:
“You are most fortunate, dear Mrs. Calverley. This is just the house to live in! I am sure Lord Courland will be of my opinion.”
But her ladyship was quite as much pleased with the house on a nearer inspection, as she had been on a more distant survey. The gardens and grounds were perfection; and, as she looked out on the smooth lawn from her chamber window, she thought she had never seen a lovelier place.
Mrs. Calverley had an interview with Zephyrus soon after his arrival, and expressed her great satisfaction at having the advantage of his services.
Flattered by her compliments, the distinguishedchefpromised her an excellent dinner, but, to achieve his object, he declared he must have absolute control of the kitchen. This was readily accorded him, and everything else he required; so he proceeded to make his arrangements, and struck terror into the breast of the cook and her assistants by his arbitrary manner.
Pursuing her policy of conciliation, Mrs. Calverley was very kind and courteous in her manner to Mr. Higgins and Mr. Tankard, begged them to make themselves at home, and desired Norris to show them every attention.
Harry Netterville and Tom Tankard likewise came in for a share of her civilities. They had just been to Knutsford to attend the examination of Romney and his companion who were sentenced by a full bench of magistrates to six months' imprisonment. Mrs. Calverley expressed her great satisfaction at the result, and took the opportunity of complimenting the young men on their prowess. Her observations were very simple; but Tom was greatly elated by them.
“There! did you see how sweetly she smiled on me?” he said to Netterville: “I told you I was high in favour.”
Tom was not particularly gratified by his father's unlooked-for appearance on the scene, thinking, perhaps, his own importance might be diminished.
“What the deuce has brought the guv'nor down here?” he remarked to Netterville. “We could have done very well without him.”
“He's come to look after you, I've no doubt, Tom,” observed Netterville, laughing.
“No; it's Higgins!” cried Tom. “He can't live without Higgins. Where Higgins goes, Tankard must go too. I believe if Higgins set off for Jerusalem by next train, if there is a railway to Jerusalem, Tankard would set off after him. But I must shut up! Here come the guv'nor and Higgins. I hope they didn't overhear my remarks.”
But it seemed they did, for they both shook their hands at him.