CHAPTER XX.A STARTLING ANNOUNCEMENT.
Lady Linton’s letter was handed to her by the butler just as she was sitting down to lunch.
She had come in just as the bell rang, and leaving her bonnet and wraps in the hall, went directly to the dining-room without going, as usual, to her room to make a change in her toilet; she was far too weary and shaken to mount the stairs.
She broke the seal absently, and began to read in a listless, preoccupied way, when all at once she uttered a startled exclamation, and the paper dropped from her nerveless fingers upon the table.
“Why, mamma, what is it? You are as pale as a ghost. Is Cousin William worse or—dead?” exclaimed Lillian, regarding her mother with mingled curiosity and astonishment.
“No, but the strangest thing in the world has happened.”
“It must be something strange to disturb your equanimity like this; but what is it?” inquired the girl, eagerly.
“Your Uncle William is going to be married!”
“You cannot mean it, mamma?—at last!” cried Lillian, amazed; then she added, with a gay laugh: “The dear old bachelor! Well, you will have your wish, after all. You have wanted him to marry for the last dozen years.”
“Yes; and—I am glad—I am delighted!” replied Lady Linton, slowly, but with strange exultation in her voice, while her eyes gleamed with almost ferocious triumph.
“Well, I am astonished. I had given Uncle Will up as a hardened case,” Lillian said, growing more and more surprised, as she considered the matter; “but do tell me who is the happy woman?”
“A niece of Lord Norton who has just died; you know we read of his death last week, and I have been wondering why your uncle did not write. This accounts for it,” replied Lady Linton. Then taking up his letter, she continued: “I will read you what he says. The epistle is very brief, and does not sound like him at all, but I suppose we must excuse it under the circumstances.”
“‘You will doubtless be surprised by the contents of this letter,’ he writes, ‘and as I have much on my mind, I will simply state bare facts, leaving details until my return. You already know of my having taken my cousin’s place as temporary amanuensis to Lord Norton. I was enabled to complete the manuscript for him the week before his death, which occurred on the ninth. But, during my visits to him, I met a niece of his, who, I may say, is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. By his lordship’s will she becomes the heiress to all his possessions, which consist of his fine estate called Englewood, here in Chester, besides a large amount of personal property. To make a long story short, however, I am going to make this lady my wife, and as I am too old to waste any time upon forms or so-called etiquette, we intendto be married immediately—that is, within the month—about the twenty-first, I think, after which we shall repair to Heathdale, where we shall quietly remain for the present. The wedding will be strictly private on account of his lordship’s recent death and in compliance with the request of his niece. I will, however, notify you further of my plans before the twenty-first.’”
The epistle closed abruptly and rather formally, and Lady Linton’s face was crimson as she concluded the reading of it.
“It is the most unheard of thing in the world!” she said, excitedly. “A private wedding, indeed—not even his own sister invited, and it is all so sudden that it fairly takes my breath away.”
“They might at least have asked us to go to Englewood to witness the ceremony,” Lillian observed, thoughtfully. “The letter doesn’t sound a bit like Uncle Will.”
“I suppose he is so taken up with his bride-elect that he has not much time or thought for any one else; but he might have told us something about her; he did not even mention her name; I suppose, however, we are to infer that she is a Miss Norton. I wonder whether she is young or old?” Lady Linton said, in an injured tone, and looking both perplexed and annoyed.
“He says she is beautiful, mamma.”
“Of course; one’s betrothed is always beautiful to the man who is to be married. They are going directly to Heathdale,” she added, musingly. “There ought to be some one there to receive them, and the house needspreparation for the occasion. I think, Lillian, that, notwithstanding I have been rather shabbily treated in this affair, I shall go down to Heathdale and give them the best welcome possible at so short a notice. I can at least brighten things up and arrange for a small dinner-party and reception in honor of the bride.”
“Perhaps they would prefer not to meet anyone just yet, mamma,” Lillian suggested.
“I cannot help it. Such a home-coming as that would be too dismal, and not at all in keeping with the dignity of the family. I shall take matters into my own hands and conduct the affair as I think best. We will go to Heathdale the last of the week.”
Her ladyship fell into a profound reverie after announcing this decision, while Lillian took up the morning paper and began to read.
Lady Linton was deeply hurt by the way that her brother had written of his approaching marriage, and more so at having been ignored in all the arrangements; yet in spite of all this she was secretly jubilant over the fact that Sir William was about to bring a mistress to Heathdale. It would relieve her of a great burden; of all further plotting and intrigue regarding the enemy whom she had encountered only that day. Virginia Alexander might do her worst now—once let the twenty-first of December pass and she need fear her no more. She might succeed in securing an acknowledgment from Sir William that Virgie was his lawful child and a settlement of a portion of his property upon her; but there would be no longer any fear of the long-parted husband and wife coming to an understanding with each other—she, at least, would never come to Heathdale to queen it as mistress.
She had heard of Lord Norton. He was reputed to be very old, very eccentric, and very literary; but she had not known of what his family consisted. She did not know, even now, farther than that he had a niece, but in her present mood, with that bitter hatred against Virginia Alexander rankling in her heart and the fear that her own past treachery was liable to be exposed if she was ever allowed to enter Heathdale, she was prepared to welcome Lord Norton’s heiress in the most cordial manner, and her spirits rose light as air at the prospect of a new sister-in-law.
“Mamma,” said Lillian, suddenly looking up from her paper and breaking in upon these musings, “Uncle Will’s engagement is announced here.”
“What! in the paper? Well, I must say they are rushing things.”
She held out her hand for the sheet, an evil smile on her thin lips, as she imagined something of the chagrin and disappointment that Mrs. Alexander would experience upon reading an account of Sir William Heath’s approaching marriage.
There was quite an extended paragraph regarding it, considerable being said about the late Lord Norton and his recent death; mention being made of his having left the whole of his large property to a niece; while the fact that Sir William Heath was contemplating matrimony with the “beautiful heiress,” gave rise to some pleasantry, since the “distinguished baronet having for so many years resisted Cupid’s most artful endeavors to lead him to Hymen’s altar, his friends and well-wishers had begun to fear that he was hopelessly invulnerable.”
“Mamma, what will become of us when Uncle Willbrings his wife home?” Lillian asked, somewhat anxiously, as Lady Linton laid down the paper.
The same question had been agitating her ladyship’s mind.
They could not well go to Linton Grange, for Percy was making extensive improvements in view of his own approaching marriage; they had no home of their own—in fact they were wholly dependent upon Sir William, and Lady Linton felt that no place but Heathdale would ever be like home to her.
“We will not borrow trouble about that, Lillian,” she answered, “this Miss Norton may be very young and inexperienced; in that case she would need some older person, like myself, to advise and assist her; so I imagine that we shall still be welcome in your uncle’s household.”
That evening, at a dinner-party, Lady Linton was besieged by numerous friends with questions regarding her brother’s engagement.
She looked wise, and appeared as if she had been in the secret for some time but had not been allowed to divulge anything.
It was true, she admitted, that the marriage was rather a sudden one; but of course it could not have occurred before, because of Lord Norton’s critical condition, and there was no reason now why it should not take place, except for etiquette’s sake, and her brother did not propose to defer their happiness simply to observe a law of fashion. They would not, however, appear in society at present, she affirmed, but remain quietly at Heathdale, perhaps until another season, while there would only be an informal reception of their oldest friends, at their home-coming,and to arrange for this she was herself going to Heathdale.
She appeared to be very much elated over the marriage, spoke eloquently of the bride-elect, of her grace, beauty, and intelligence; for she was far too proud to allow it to be known that she had been taken as much by surprise as society at large by the announcement of the event.
To Mrs. Farnum alone she acknowledged it; for that lady called the next day, and had asked her point-blank some questions which she could not answer, and she had been obliged to confess that she “did not know.”
“Well, Miriam,” said her friend, “it is rather hard on you, I own, not to be consulted, or even asked to the wedding, but your heart will be set at rest on one subject—you need not fear that Alexander woman any more after the twenty-first.”
“No; she may do her worst then. I have lived in daily terror lest she should meet William and everything would be explained. What do you think, Myra?” asked Lady Linton, suddenly. “She has got that diary!”
“What diary?”
“That one I gave to you to keep for me, the summer I was on the Continent—the diary you lost!”
“Miriam Linton! how came she by it?” cried Mrs. Farnum, aghast.
“She says her uncle was in the railway carriage with you when you left London that afternoon after I had met you at the —— Hotel, and you dropped it in the coach.”
“Well, I am at least glad to knowhowI lost it,”returned her friend, in a relieved tone. “It has been a most annoying mystery to me all these years. Does she know what there is in it?”
“I do not know,” Lady Linton said, growing pale. “I met her yesterday on Oxford street, when she told me she had it, and would return it soon. If she has not opened the package, I am all right; if she has, and ever sees fit to betray me to Sir William, it will be a sad day for me.”
“You were very foolish ever to commit to paper anything concerning that American escapade.”
“I suppose I was, but I always keep a diary; there are many things of importance that I like to remember accurately, and a diary is so convenient to refer to—it has saved me many mistakes.”
“It would have been far better if you had destroyedthatyear’s notes, as I advised you,” returned Mrs. Farnum.
“But it was full of important data, and I never dreamed that anything could happen to it—it was very careless of you to lose it,” said her ladyship, complainingly.
“I know it was, and I have suffered a great deal of anxiety on account of it; for, of course, with all those names and dates, I am implicated almost as much as yourself. Why don’t you go around to her lodgings and get it at once?—your mind will be at rest then. If the seal has never been broken, you are as safe as if it had never been lost.”
“True; I believe I will,” Lady Linton answered, brightening.
She followed the advice of her friend the very nextday, and, calling at Mrs. Alexander’s lodgings, was shown at once up to her private parlor.
There was no one there when she entered, but presently Virgie came in, looking charming in her morning robe of mauve cashmere, with blue silk facings, and greeted her ladyship politely, although with some reserve.
“You wished to see mamma,” she said, “but I am obliged to receive you as she is not in just now. Can I do anything for you, Lady Linton?”
“I wished to see Mrs. Alexander personally,” returned Lady Linton, haughtily. “Will she return soon?”
“I am afraid not. She had an engagement with Madame Gerbier, her modiste, at eleven, and one with her lawyer at one,” Virgie explained.
Lady Linton thought a moment, then she said:
“Mrs. Alexander told me, a day or two ago, that she had a package belonging to me; do you know anything about it?”
“A package?” repeated Virgie, looking mystified; then she added, quickly, “Oh! perhaps it is that sealed package that mamma’s uncle found so long ago. Is that yours, Lady Linton?”
“Yes. Sealed!—did you say it issealed?” asked the woman, breathlessly.
“Yes, it is sealed with a strange device and motto.”
“And has it never been opened?” was the eager query.
“Of course not; it is just as mamma’s uncle found it,” Virgie responded, with curling lips, and flushing indignantly at the implied suspicion of the woman.
Lady Linton could have wept for joy. She wassaved! her vile secrets were still all her own; and if she could but get that coveted diary into her possession once again, she had nothing to fear; she would burn it without a moment’s hesitation.
“I am very sorry to miss Mrs. Alexander; but perhapsyoucould get it for me?” she said, insinuatingly.
“I do not think I should like to do that without mamma’s sanction,” Virgie answered; “but I will tell her your errand, and no doubt she will take measures to return the package to you at once.”
“Very well,” replied Lady Linton; “tell her to send it immediately to my brother’s residence; the street and number are on my card, which you have. I shall leave town to-morrow, and would like it before I go.”
Virgie promised to deliver the message, and her ladyship took her leave, with a heart lighter than she had known for years, for the burden of a great dread had been rolled from it.
But she did not receive the package before leaving for Heathdale, as she had confidently expected.
She had arranged to go on the fifteenth, taking Lillian with her, and although she waited until the last minute, hoping for the appearance of her long-lost diary, she was obliged to depart without it.
She did not worry over it very much, however, for she told herself that if it had been kept all these years with the seal unbroken, there was not much danger of its being disturbed at this late day.
Just as she was about to enter the carriage there arrived a telegram from her brother. It contained just two lines:
“Shall leave Englewood Wednesday noon; arrive at Heathdale on the 7:30 express. Meet us there if you like.”
“Rather a curt bidding to a wedding feast,” Lady Linton sarcastically observed, showing it to her daughter; but she would have been more than content had she not been bidden at all, for her brother’s marriage was, to her, an unlooked-for triumph over her enemy, a release from a much dreaded doom.