CHAPTER XXIV.
FRANK AMBERLEY’S ADVICE.
Captain Desfrayne was at first so eager and vehement, that Frank Amberley found it a little difficult to disentangle the strange story he had to tell.
The young lawyer did not find himself in an agreeable position. In the secret depths of his heart he would have infinitely preferred that Paul Desfrayne should remain bound. So long as his marriage was an unalterable fact, there was no fear of his carrying off Lois. There was scant hope for Frank himself, poor fellow; but he was asked to give his best aid toward demolishing the great bar to her union with this powerful rival. If she did not care for any one else—and he reflected with a sigh that she cared little for himself—the probability was that she would not raise any urgent objections toward fulfilling her dead benefactor’s wishes.
But he was generous, and scorned to act a mean and dishonorable part. The cloud was dissipated from his grave, kind face by a sad smile, and he said:
“You wish to ask my advice and assistance how to proceed?”
“I shall be most thankful if you will give me your opinion as to how I ought to act,” answered his visitor.
“Is there any chance of your being able to compel this—your—Madam Guiscardini to confess whether she has or has not destroyed the stolen register?”
“None that I can see. She is of a most stubborn nature. Even if there were no particular object to be gained, I believe she would obstinately refuse to do or say anything that did not suit or please her.”
“I am sincerely sorry for your cruel situation,” said Frank Amberley, in a tone of profound feeling.
“Of that I am assured,” replied Paul Desfrayne; “and I come to you in the full confidence that you will help me to the utmost of your power.”
“The register being, we will say, destroyed, there is noresource but to trace out the priest who married Lucia to her peasant lover?”
“None.”
“But the expense would be something frightful. There would probably be a great delay, and in the end perhaps the man might not be discovered.”
“Could you form any idea of what the search might cost?”
“It would necessarily depend on the persons employed. If I understood you aright, you have not trusted your servant, Gilardoni, with the secret of your own unhappy marriage?”
“I have not. For one reason, I could not bear to humiliate myself; for another, I desired to consult you before moving a step or speaking a word.”
“I am afraid you will be obliged to take him into your confidence. He is master of the circumstances; he would have the strongest motive for tracing out the missing person. He would probably be more economical and more devoted than any stranger could be. Send him, and let him be accompanied by a professional detective. Perhaps the search may not be such a lengthened one as you fear.”
Paul Desfrayne reflected for a few moments.
“I had already resolved to abide by your advice,” he said. “Let it be so. I would give all I have in the world to be free from the consequences of my own mad folly. When could he set out?”
“As soon as he could make the necessary preparations. The sooner the better, I should say.”
“What do you think the expenses would be likely to come to? It would be a bitter disappointment should the search continue for a certain time, and fail almost at the last for want of funds.”
“Gilardoni, having traveled a good deal on the Continent, as I understand you have implied, and being accustomed to manage for himself and others, would be able to give you a better estimate than I could form. In his hands, I don’t think, after all, it would be so very great. Say ten or fifteen pounds a week. Suppose it took himten months, or even fourteen or eighteen, the calculation is easy.”
“I will send him to you to-morrow, my dear friend,” said Paul Desfrayne. “Heaven grant me a happy issue to this search. But—but the suspense will be something unbearable.”
“Why, you will constantly hear how the affair is progressing,” urged Frank Amberley. “Do you think I could aid you by insisting on an interview with—with this woman?”
Paul shook his head.
“I fear it would be time wasted,” he answered. “She would, perhaps, insult and annoy you——”
“Pshaw! Her most violent attack would only make me laugh, my dear fellow,” interrupted Frank Amberley. “It would be amusing. In fact, I should really like to see this lovely tigress in her own den. One doesn’t often enjoy a chance of interviewing a beautiful fury.”
Paul Desfrayne grasped Frank’s hands, and looked earnestly into those open, candid eyes that yet faithfully veiled the secret that their owner was a noble, self-sacrificing hero, offering up a possible gleam of happiness on the altar of duty. Paul saw nothing but a kind, pleasant, genial man, who undertook a matter of business with the genial air of a friend.
“I leave the affair entirely in your care,” he said, “knowing full well that you will not neglect anything that may tend to free me from the cruel burden that weighs me down.”
“You give me permission to speak as fully to this Italian valet as I may find necessary?” asked Frank Amberley.
He lowered his gaze as he demanded this; his heart felt heavy and sad, and he feared lest Paul Desfrayne might read his thoughts.
“Certainly. I give you carte blanche in every way.”
“You do not object to my visiting Madam Guiscardini?”
“I should be rejoiced if you undertook the unpleasant task, were it only to hear what she has to say. It would be a very different matter bullying a fellow like Gilardoni,and tackling a practised English lawyer like yourself.”
“I should think so. Where is she to be found?”
“When I called at her house on Monday, I was informed that madam had gone to Paris, and nobody knew when she would return. On consulting the newspapers, however, I found she was advertised to appear on Friday night——”
“To-morrow evening?”
“Yes. I have been told that she prides herself on never disappointing the public, and that she has never failed once since her first appearance to perform on the nights for which she is announced. Her health is excellent, and she is passionately devoted to her art.”
“Then, if I find she refuses to see me at her house——By the way, where does she live?”
“She did live in Porchester Square; but may change on her return, by way of giving a little trouble to those who may want to see her when it does not suit her to be visited. But here is the address.”
He scribbled down the number and name of the square on the back of one of his own cards.
“Have you—did you—that is to say—I mean, has any explanation passed between you and Miss Turquand?” inquired Frank Amberley, with some embarrassment.
“I wished to speak to her—to tell her how unhappily I am situated,” replied Paul Desfrayne hesitatingly.
“Did you give her any notion of the nature of this barrier?” asked Frank Amberley.
“I scarcely know what I said; but I should imagine she could readily guess to what I must allude. I accidentally traveled in her company this morning.”
“Indeed! Has she returned to London?”
“Lady Quaintree received a telegram stating that her husband was unwell——”
“Good heavens! Unwell? I must go to Lowndes Square this evening,” exclaimed Frank, in great concern. “Do you know what is the matter with him?”
Paul shook his head.
“Lady Quaintree was my informant, and she said thatthe telegram stated simply the fact, without entering into detail.”
“I will go there directly office-hours are over. In case I see Miss Turquand, and have any opportunity of speaking to her, is it still your wish that I should enlighten her as to the state of your affairs?”
“It is essential that she should not be left in ignorance,” said Paul. “It is my duty to inform her without delay, as my silence may be injurious to her.” But he sighed heavily as he spoke.
“I will use my own discretion,” said Frank Amberley. “But I could not take any important step without your special sanction. You will send this Italian valet to me?”
“At once—early to-morrow morning.”
“We will set him to work directly he can make his own personal arrangements. I will make a point of seeing madam. If I do not succeed in obtaining an interview with her at her residence, I will endeavor to surprise her at the opera-house. I think it best to defer engaging a detective to accompany Gilardoni until I see him. You will not be able to come up to-morrow?”
“I fear not. Besides, I could not endure to be present when you inform him of my position.”
“Well, then, what I have to do is, firstly, this evening, to try to find a chance of enlightening Miss Turquand; secondly, to-morrow morning, to hold a consultation with and give instructions to this Leonardo Gilardoni; thirdly, to-morrow evening, to endeavor to surprise Madam Guiscardini into some kind of admission, and, if I do not see her, I must make an opportunity of doing so on Saturday or Monday, or some time next week. The way is plain enough. Whether it leads to a happy harbor of rest remains to be seen.”
“It will be impossible for me ever to thank you sufficiently,” said Paul Desfrayne.
“Do not speak of that,” replied Frank Amberley. “Are you obliged to return to your quarters at once?”
“At once; yes.”
The two men clasped hands, and parted.
Lady Quaintree found that her husband’s illness was not of a seriously alarming nature, but yet sufficiently grave to justify Gerald in sending for her. The doctor had ordered the patient to bed; but it was not necessary for any one to remain with him to watch. Her ladyship, therefore, with her son and the two young ladies, was at liberty to dine as usual.
It was not yet the hour fixed for dinner when Frank Amberley arrived at the house.
“Mr. Gerald went out, sir, and has not come home yet, though he said he’d be back to dinner,” the domestic said. “But the young ladies are in the drawing-room.”
The servant threw open the door, announced Mr. Amberley, and then retired.
Throughout the house the lamps had been lighted, but were all still turned down to a mere spark; for the long summer days had only begun to show signs of shortening. In the drawing-room, a soft, amber glow, subdued and mellow, mingled its rays with the dreamy semitwilight.
At first, the profound, peaceful silence made Frank Amberley imagine the apartment was uninhabited; but, as the door closed, a soft swish of silken garments undeceived him.
For a moment his heart fluttered with pain and pleasure at the thought that he was possibly alone with Lois; but instantly after the unfamiliar figure of Blanche Dormer presented itself.
She had been reading one of the new magazines, nestling in a quiet corner by one of the windows.
It was a sufficiently embarrassing situation, as neither knew what to say. A formal salutation passed, and then Miss Dormer meditated for a moment or two how she could best manage to beat a retreat.
Presently, however, these two forgot their embarrassment, and found themselves chatting together as if they had been friends for a dozen years.
In about ten minutes Lois appeared, and Blanche did not then think it necessary to run away. Miss Turquand was, of course, quite unconscious that Frank Amberley had any special communication to make, and totally unawarethat he took any particular interest in Captain Desfrayne.
When Lady Quaintree came down, she found the three young people sitting near one of the windows, engaged in what seemingly was an agreeable and almost lively conversation. As she stood for a moment at the door, an odd thought struck her for the first time.
“What a charming wife for Frank Blanchette would make!” she said to herself.
She pressed Frank to stay to dinner, and he very gladly accepted her invitation.
Although saddened by the absence of the master of the house, the little dinner-party was extremely pleasant. Gerald returned just in time to meet his mother, the young ladies, and his Cousin Frank, in the drawing-room before they went down-stairs.
As Frank was a member of the family, he had every right and excuse, though not living in the house, to linger after dinner. He felt loath to depart. Not only was every moment spent in the presence of Lois exquisitely sweet to him; but it might be long before he could conveniently obtain so favorable an opportunity for speaking to her as he should probably find this evening. He was right in staying; for the moment came at last.
Lady Quaintree was up-stairs, Gerald and Miss Dormer were talking together, and there seemed no immediate fear of interruption.
Then Frank Amberley braced up his nerves, and prepared himself for the duty he had undertaken.
He thought it best to inform Lois of the entire story, as far as he was master thereof, withholding the name of the lady, however, and the fact that she had been already married when she became the wife of Paul Desfrayne. He thought that if the search for the Padre Josef should prove unsuccessful, as it probably might do, it would not be well either to unsettle Lois’ mind, or to fix an additional brand on Captain Desfrayne.
Lois listened in dead silence, pulling out the lace of her handkerchief mechanically. It was not until the close of the little history that she made any comment.Frank ended at the stormy departure of the signora on the morning of her marriage with Captain Desfrayne.
“It is a sad story,” she said, in a low, faint tone. “I am deeply sorry for him; and I am—I am sorry that—that his name should have been—been linked with mine in—in Mr. Vere Gardiner’s will.”
“I rely upon you not to let any one have a suspicion of this unfortunate affair,” urged Frank Amberley.
Lois assured him she would keep the matter a profound secret. She longed to get away to the solitude of her own chamber, there to reflect on what she had heard; but could think of no excuse. A strange, unaccountable sinking of the heart oppressed her.
“Why do I thus think about one who is a stranger to me, and can never be aught else?” she asked herself. “I must dismiss the subject from my mind forever after this night.”
And yet she caught herself wondering when she should again meet Paul Desfrayne, and planning how she should behave to him.
Frank Amberley watched her face with all the eager devotion of a man hopelessly, irretrievably in love, utterly unconscious that the bright eyes of the pretty country girl in white muslin and blue ribbons wandered many times his way. It was with difficulty that he restrained a passionate, plainly worded avowal of his love and adoration, and resisted the desire to ask Lois if there was any chance of his being able to win the slightest return of his all-engrossing passion.
He was pretty confident that up to this time she had not cared specially for any one, and he believed it to be perfectly impossible that any other human being could love her as deeply, as truly as he did.
A few moments more, and he might have tempted his fate, and might have gained some answer leading him to hope; but the door of the center drawing-room opened, and Lady Quaintree came through the silken archway between the two salons.
Her ladyship was ill pleased to see Lois and Frank together, and dissatisfied to notice that Gerald appeared much taken with the lively, piquant Blanche Dormer,who was playing with a not altogether unskilful hand at the pleasant game of flirtation. It would not suit the inclination of Lady Quaintree did Gerald fall in love with and marry this young girl, even if she did carry twenty thousand pounds as her dot.
Without appearing inhospitable—nay, she seemed to be sorry to break up the little party—she made it apparent to Frank that it would be only kind and considerate of him to take an early departure, in order that the ladies might rest after their hurried journey.
Turn which way she would, Lois could not rid herself of the haunting figure of Paul Desfrayne. When she gained her own room, she sat down at the foot of her bed to think.
“I am glad, I know,” she whispered to herself. “Oh! I am sorry for him, though I fear he scarcely deserves that any one should pity him, when he was guilty of such folly. He ought to have had more sense—he ought not to have allowed himself to be carried away by such a foolish fancy. Yet it seems a heavy punishment for a passing folly. They say: ‘Marry in haste, repent at leisure.’ Lifelong unhappiness, poor fellow! No wonder he seems strange, and different from other people. He is quite different from any one I ever saw. How wicked and ungrateful this girl must have been! It is inconceivable that any creature could have behaved so vilely toward him. He seems so good, so kind, so——What nonsense am I running off into, when I know nothing about him!”