Chapter Nine.I put the papers down on the table as soon as I had finished them, and for a long while was absorbed in meditation.“Is it possible,” thought I, “that love disappointed can turn to such fury—can so harden the heart to all better feelings—induce a woman to shorten the days of her parent—to allow a sister to remain in painful error on her death-bed, and wreak vengeance upon an innocent being, regardless of all justice? Grant, then, that I may never yield to such a passion! Who would have ever imagined, that the careless, eccentric Lady R— had such a load of crime weighing her down, and daily and hourly reminded of it by the presence of the injured party? How callous she must have become by habit, to still delay doing an act of justice—how strange that the fear of the world and its opinion should be greater than the fear of God!”This last remark proved how little I yet knew of the world, and then my thoughts went in a different direction. As I have already said, I had been brought up as a Catholic; but, after my grandmother’s death, I had little encouragement or example shown me in religious duties. Now, having been more than two years in England, and continually with Protestants, I had gone to the established Protestant church with those I resided with at first; because I considered it better to go to that church, although I knew it to be somewhat at variance with my own, rather than go to no church at all, and by habit I was gradually inclining to Protestantism; but now the idea came across my mind, if Lady R— had confessed as we Catholics do, this secret could not have been kept so long; and, if she withheld herself from the confessional, had her agents been Catholics, the secret would have been divulged to the priest by them, and justice would have been done to Lionel; and, having made this reflection, I felt as it were, that I was again a sincere Catholic.After a little more reflection, I put away the papers, wrote a letter to Mr Selwyn, the solicitor, requesting that he would call upon me the following morning, and then went down to Lady M—.“I suppose that we shall not have much of the pleasure of your company, Miss de Chatenoeuf,” said her ladyship, “now that you have such a novel occupation?”“It is a very distressing one,” replied I, “and I wish Lady R— had not paid me such a compliment. Might I trespass upon your ladyship’s kindness to request the loan of the carriage for half-an-hour to obtain some papers from Lady R—’s house in Baker Street?”“Oh, certainly,” replied her ladyship. “Pray have you seen Lady R—’s will?”“Yes, madame.”“And how has she disposed of her property?”“She has left it all to her nephew, Lady M—.”“Nephew! I never heard her speak of a nephew before. Sir Richard had no nephews or nieces, for he was an only son, and the title has now gone into the Vivian branch, and I never heard of her having a nephew. And what has she left you, mademoiselle, if it is not asking too much?”“Lady R— has left me 500 pounds, my lady.”“Indeed! well then, she pays you for your trouble. But really, Miss de Chatenoeuf, I do wish you could put off this business until after the marriages. I am so hurried and worried that I really do not know which way to turn, and really I have felt your loss these last two days more than you can imagine. You are so clever, and have so much taste, that we cannot get on without you. It’s all your own fault,” continued her ladyship, playfully, “you are so good-natured, and have made us so dependent upon you, that we cannot let you off now. Nothing in thetrousseauxis approved of, unless stamped by the taste of Mademoiselle Valerie de Chatenoeuf. Now, a week cannot make a great difference, and lawyers love delay: will you oblige me, therefore, by leaving Lady R—’s affairs for the present?”“Certainly, Lady M—,” replied I. “I will stop a letter I was about to send to her solicitor, and write another to the effect you wish, and I will not repeat my request for the carriage until after the marriages have taken place.”“Many thanks,” replied her ladyship, and I went out, took my letter from the hall table, and wrote another to Mr Selwyn, stating that I could not enter into any business until the following week, when I should be prepared to receive him.I wrote another to the same effect to Lionel, requesting him not to call again, but that I would write and let him know where to meet me as soon as I was more at leisure.Indeed I was glad that Lady M— had made the request, as the trouble and chattering and happy faces which were surrounding the trousseaux, and the constant employment and appeals made to me, drove away the melancholy which Lady R—’s affairs had occasioned me. I succeeded to a great degree in recovering my spirits, and exerted myself to my utmost, so that everything was complete and satisfactory to all parties two days before the wedding was to take place.At last, the morning came. The brides were dressed and went down into the drawing-room, frightened and perplexed, but their tears had been shed above. The procession of carriages moved on to Hanover Square; there was a bishop of course, and the church was filled with gay and tastefully-dressed women. The ceremony was performed, and the brides were led into the vestry-room to recover, and receive kisses and congratulations. Then came the banquet, which nobody hardly tasted except the bishop, who had joined too many couples in his lifetime to have his appetite at all affected by the ceremony, and some two or three others who were old stagers on the road of life, and who cared little whether it was a wedding-breakfast, or refreshments after a funeral.At last, after a most silent entertainment, the brides retired to change their dresses, and, when they re-appeared, they were handed into the carriages of their respective bridegrooms as soon as they could be torn away from the kisses and tears of Lady M—, who played the part of a bereaved mother to perfection. No one to have seen her then, raving like another Niobe, would have imagined that all her thoughts and endeavours and manoeuvres, for the last three years, had been devoted to the sole view of getting them off; but Lady M— was a perfect actress, and this last scene was well got up.As her daughters were led down to the carriages, I thought that she was going to faint; but it appeared, on second thoughts, that she wished first to see the girls depart in their gay equipages; she therefore tottered to the window, saw them get in, looked at Newman’s greys and gay postillions—at the white and silver favours—the dandy valet and smart lady’s-maid in each rumble. She saw them start at a rattling pace, watched them till they turned the corner of the square, and then—and not till then—fell senseless in my arms, and was carried by the attendants into her own room.After all, the poor woman must have been very much worn out, for she had been for the last six weeks in a continual worry lest anycontre-tempsshould happen, which might have stopped or delayed the happy consummation.The next morning her ladyship did not leave her room, but sent word down that the carriage was at my service; but I was fatigued and worn out, and declined it for that day. I wrote to Lionel and to Mr Selwyn, desiring them to meet me in Baker Street, at two o’clock the next day; and then passed the day quietly, in company with Amy, the third daughter of Lady M—, whom I have before mentioned. She was a very sweet, unaffected girl; and I was more partial to her than to her sisters, who had been just married. I had paid great attention to her, for she had a fine voice, and did credit to my teaching, and there was a great intimacy between us, arising on my part from my admiration of her ingenuous and amiable disposition, which even her mother’s example to the contrary could not spoil.After some conversation relative to her sisters and their husbands, she said, “I hardly know what to do, Valerie. I love you too well to be a party to your being ill-treated, and yet I fear that you will be pained if I tell you what I have heard about you. I know also that you will not stay, if I do tell you, and that will give me great pain; butthatis a selfish feeling which I could overcome. What I do not like is hurting your feelings. Now, tell me candidly, ought I to tell you, or not?”“I will give you my opinion candidly,” replied I. “You have said too little or too much. You speak of my being ill-treated; certainly, I should wish to guard against that, although I cannot imagine who is my enemy.”“Had I not heard it, I could not have believed it either,” replied she. “I thought that you had come here on a visit as a friend; but what makes me think that I ought to tell you is, that there will be something said against your character, which I am sure, must be false.”“Now, indeed, I must request that you will tell me everything, and soften nothing down, but tell me the whole truth. Who is it that intends to attack my character?”“I am sorry—very sorry to say, it is mamma,” replied she, wiping away a tear.“Lady M—!” exclaimed I.“Yes,” replied she; “but now you must listen to all I have to say. I am sure that I am doing right in telling you, and therefore nothing shall prevent me. I love my mother—what a sad thing it is that I cannot respect her! I was in the dressing-room, when my mother was lying on the sofa in her bedroom this morning, when her great friend, Mrs Germane, came up. She sat talking with my mother for some time, and they appeared either to forget or not to care if I heard them; for at last your name was mentioned.“‘Well, she does dress you and your girls beautifully, I must say,’ said Mrs Germane. ‘Who is she? They say that she is of a good family; and how came she to live with you as a milliner?’“‘My dear Mrs Germane, that she does live with me as a milliner is true, and it was for that reason only I invited her to the house; but she is not aware that I retain her in that capacity. She is, I understand from Mrs Bathurst, of a noble family in France, thrown upon the world by circumstances, very talented, and very proud. Her extreme taste in dress I discovered when she was living with Mrs Bathurst; and, when I found that she was about, through my management, to leave Lady R—, I invited her here as a sort of friend, and to stay with my daughters—not a word did I mention about millinery; I had too much tact for that. Even when her services were required, I made it appear as her own offer, and expressed my thanks for her condescension, and since that, by flattery and management, she has continued to dress my daughters for me; and, I must say, that I do believe it has been owing to her exquisite taste that my daughters have gone off so well.’“‘Well, you have managed admirably,’ replied Mrs Germane; ‘but, my dear Lady M—, what will you do with her now?’“‘Oh,’ replied Lady M—, ‘as Amy will now come out, I shall retain her in my employ until she is disposed of; and then—’“‘Yes, then will be the difficulty,’ replied Mrs Germane; ‘after having allowed her to live so long with you as a visitor, I may say, how will you get rid of her?’“‘Why, I was puzzling myself about that, and partly decided that it should be done by mortifying her, and wounding her feelings, for she is very proud; but, fortunately, I have found out something which I shall keep to myself, until the time comes, and then I can dismiss her at a moment’s warning.’“‘Indeed!’ said Mrs Germane, ‘what could you have found out?’“‘Well, I will tell you; but you must not mention it again. My maid entered the room the other day, when mademoiselle was receiving a young man who called upon her, and she found them kissing.’“‘You don’t say so!’“‘Yes, a kiss was given, and my maid saw it. Now, I can easily make it appear that my maid never mentioned it to me till the time that it may be convenient to make use of it, and then I can send her away; and if any questions are asked, hint at a little impropriety of conduct.’“‘And very properly too,’ replied Mrs Germane. ‘Had I not better hint a little beforehand to prepare people?’“‘Why, it may be as well, perhaps; but be cautious, very cautious, my dear Mrs Germane.’“Mademoiselle de Chatenoeuf, I am sorry that I am obliged, in doing my duty to you, to expose mamma,” said Amy, rising up from her chair; “but I am sure that you could not be guilty of any impropriety, and I will not allow you to be accused of it, if it is to be prevented.”“Many thanks,” replied I. “My dear Amy, you have behaved like a kind friend. I have only, in duty to myself, to clear up the charge against me, of impropriety. You must not imagine me guilty of that. It is true that your mother’s maid did come in when a young lad of seventeen, who was grateful to me for the interest I took in his welfare, and who was taking leave of me at the time, did raise my hand to his lips and kiss it, and, had he done so before your mother, I should not have prevented it. This was the kiss which, as your mother asserts, passed between us, and this is the only impropriety that took place. Oh, what a sad, treacherous, selfish, wicked world this is!” cried I, throwing myself on the sofa, and bursting into tears.Amy was making every attempt to console me, and blaming herself for having made the communication, when Lady M— came downstairs into the room.“What is all this—what a scene!” exclaimed she. “Mademoiselle de Chatenoeuf, have you had any bad news?”“Yes, my lady,” replied I, “so bad that I am under the necessity of leaving you directly.”“Indeed! may I inquire what has happened?”“No, my lady, it is not in my power to tell you. I have only to repeat, that I must, with your permission, leave this house to-morrow morning.”“Well, mademoiselle,” replied her ladyship, “I do not want to pry into your secrets, but this I must say, that where there is concealment, there must be wrong; but I have lately discovered so much, that I do not wonder at concealment—nor am I, indeed, surprised at your wish to leave me.”“Lady M—,” replied I, haughtily, “I have never done anything during the time that I have been under your roof which I have to blush for—nor indeed anything that requires concealment. This I can proudly say. If I conceal now, it is to spare others, and, I may add, to spare you. Do not oblige me to say more in presence of your daughter. It will be sufficient for me to hint to you, that I am now aware why I was invited to your house, and what are your plans for dismissing me when it suits you.”“Eaves-dropping, then, is a portion of your character, mademoiselle,” cried Lady M—, colouring up to the temples.“No, madam, such is not the case, and that is all the answer I shall give; it is sufficient for you that you are exposed, and I do not envy your present feelings. I have only to repeat, that I shall leave this house to-morrow morning, and I will not further trouble your ladyship with my company.”I then walked out of the room, and as I passed Lady M—, and observed her confusion and vexation, I felt that it was she who was humiliated, and not me. I went up to my room and commenced my preparations for immediate departure, and had been more than an hour busy in packing up, when Amy came into my room.“Oh, Valerie, how sorry I am—but you have behaved just as I think that you ought to have done; and how very kind of you not to say that I told you. My mother was so angry after you left; said that the maids must have been listening, and declares she will give them all warning; but I know that she will not do that. She spoke about your meeting a young man, and kissing going on; but you have already explained all that.”“Amy,” replied I, “after I am gone, take an opportunity of saying to Lady M—, that you mentioned this to me, and tell her that my reply was, if Lady M— knew who that young man was, how he is connected, and how large a fortune he will inherit, she would be very glad to see him kiss one of her daughter’s hands with a different feeling from that which induced him to kiss mine.”“I will, depend upon it,” said Amy, “and then mamma will think that she has lost a good husband for me.”“She will meet him some of these days,” replied I; “and what is more, he will defend me from any attack made on that score.”“I will tell her that, also,” said Amy, “it will make her careful of what she says.”One of the servants then knocked at the door, and said, that Lady M— wished to see Miss Amy.“Wish me good-bye now,” said I, “for you may not be permitted to see me again.”The dear girl embraced me cordially, and, with tears in her eyes, left the room. I remained till I had finished packing, and then sat down. Shortly afterwards her ladyship’s maid came in, and delivered me an envelope from her ladyship, enclosing the salary due to me, with Lady M—’s compliments written outside.I saw no more of Lady M— or her daughter that evening. I went to bed, and, as in my former changes, I reflected what steps I should take. As for the treatment I had received, I was now to a certain degree hardened to it, and my feelings certainly were not so acute as when, the first time, I had received a lesson of what I might expect through life from the heartlessness and selfishness of the world; but in the present case there was a difficulty which did not exist in the former—I was going away without knowing where I was to go. After a little thought, I determined that I would seek Madame Gironac, and ascertain whether she could not receive me until I had decided upon my future plans.My thoughts then recurred to other points. I recollected that I had to meet Mr Selwyn and Lionel in Baker Street, and I resolved that I would go there with my effects early the next morning and leave them in charge of the cook, who was taking care of the house. I calculated also the money that I had in possession and in prospect. I had such a good stock of clothes when I came to England with Madame Bathurst, that I had no occasion, during the two years and more that I had now been in England, to make any purchases of consequence—indeed, I had not expended more than the twenty pounds I had brought with me. I had received some few presents from Lady M— and Madame Bathurst, and a great many from Lady R—. Altogether, I calculated that I had about two hundred and sixty pounds in my desk, for Lady R— had given me one hundred pounds for only a portion of the year; then there was the five hundred pounds which she had left me, besides her wearing apparel and trinkets, which last I knew to be of value. It was a little fortune to one in my position, and I resolved to consult Mr Selwyn as to the best way of disposing of it. Having wound up my meditations with the most agreeable portion of them, I fell asleep, and in the morning woke up refreshed.Lady M—’s maid, who had always been partial to me, for I had taught her many things valuable to a lady’s-maid, came in early, and said that she knew that I was going away, which she regretted very much. I replied that I should leave as soon as possible, but I wanted some breakfast. This she brought up to my room.I had not finished when Amy came in the room and said, “I have permission to come and wish you good-bye, Valerie. I told mamma what you said about the person who was seen to kiss your hand. She acknowledges now that it was your hand that was kissed, and she was so astonished, for she knows that you never tell stories; and, what do you think, she desired me to find out what was the young gentleman’s name that had so large a fortune. I said I would if I could, and so I will, by asking you outright, not by any other means. I don’t want to know his name,” continued she, laughing, “but I’m sure mamma has in her mind fixed upon him for a husband for me, and would now give the world that you were not going away, that through you he might be introduced to her.”“I cannot tell you, my dear,” replied I. “I am not at liberty to mention it at present, otherwise I would with pleasure. I am going now. May God bless you, my dearest, and may you always continue to be the same frank and amiable creature that you are now! I leave you with regret, and I pray earnestly for your happiness. You have made me very happy by telling me that your mamma acknowledges that it was my hand that was kissed, after that, she will hardly attempt to injure me, as she proposed.”“Oh no, Valerie, I think she is afraid to do so now. This young man of fortune has made her think differently. He would, of course, protect you from slander, and expose her, if she attempted it. Then, good-bye.”We embraced, and then I ordered a hackney-coach to be called, and drove with my luggage to Baker Street. The cook welcomed me, saying that she expected my coming, as Mr Selwyn had called to tell her of Lady R—’s death, and that when she asked to whom she was to look for her wages, he had told her that I was the person who was to settle all her ladyship’s affairs, as everything was left on my hands. She showed me a letter from Martha, Lady R—’s maid, by which I found that they would probably arrive in Baker Street that very day, with all her ladyship’s effects.“I suppose you will sleep here, miss?” said the cook, “I have aired your bed, and your room is all ready.”I replied that I wished to do so for a night or two, at all events, as I had a good deal to attend to, but that Mr Selwyn would call at one o’clock, and that I would speak to him on the subject.I had requested Lionel to call at twelve, an hour previous to Mr Selwyn, that I might make him acquainted with the contents of Lady R—’s papers addressed to me. He was punctual to the time, and I shook hands with him, saying, “Lionel, I congratulate you, at now having proofs of your being the nephew of Lady R—, and also at her having left you considerable property. You will be surprised to hear that she has appointed me her executrix.”“I am not at all surprised,” replied Lionel; “I am sure she has done a wise thing at last.”“That is more than I am,” replied I, “but I appreciate the compliment. But, Lionel, there is no time to be lost, as Mr Selwyn, the lawyer, is coming here at one o’clock, and before he comes I wish you to read over Lady R—’s confession, if I may so call it, which will explain the motives of her conduct towards you. I am afraid that it will not extenuate her conduct, but recollect that she has now made all the reparation in her power, and that we must forgive as we hope to be forgiven. Sit down and read these papers, while I unpack one or two of my boxes upstairs.”“The last time that we were here, I corded them up for you, Miss Valerie; I hope that you will allow me to assist you again.”“Thank you, but you will have no time to read what Lady R— has said, and the cook and I can manage without you.”I then left the room and went upstairs. I was still busy in my room when a knock at the street door announced the arrival of Mr Selwyn, and I went down into the drawing-room to meet him. I asked Lionel, who was walking up and down the room, whether he had finished the papers, and he replied by a nod of the head. The poor lad appeared very miserable, but Mr Selwyn entered, and I could not say more to him.“I hope I have not kept you waiting, Mademoiselle de Chatenoeuf,” said he.“No, indeed. I came here at ten o’clock, for I have left Lady M—, and I may as well ask at once whether there is any objection to my taking a bed in this house for a few nights?”“Objection! Why, mademoiselle, you are sole executrix, and everything is at present yours in fact, for the time. You have, therefore, a right to take possession until he appears, and the will is proved.”“The hero is before you, Mr Selwyn. Allow me to introduce you to Mr Lionel Dempster, the nephew of Lady R—”Mr Selwyn bowed to Lionel, and congratulated him upon his accession to the property.Lionel returned the salute, and then said, “Mademoiselle de Chatenoeuf I am convinced that in this case Mr Selwyn must have been made a party to all that has occurred. The reading of these papers has rather disturbed me, and it would be painful to me to hear everything repeated in my presence. With your permission, I will walk out for an hour, and leave you to explain everything to Mr Selwyn, for I am sure that I shall need his advice. Here is the confession of old Roberts which I shall leave for his perusal. Good-morning, then, for the present.”So saying, Lionel took up his hat and quitted the room.“He is a very prepossessing young man,” observed Mr Selwyn. “What a fine eye he has!”“Yes,” replied I, “and now that he has so large a property, others will find out that he is a prepossessing young man with fine eyes; but sit down, Mr Selwyn, for you have to listen to a very strange narrative.”When he had finished it, he laid it down on the table, saying, “This is perhaps the strangest history that has ever come to my knowledge during thirty years of practice. And so she brought him up as a footman. I now recognise him again as the lad who has so often opened the door for me, but I confess I never should have done so if I had not heard what you have now communicated.”“He was always much above his position,” replied I. “He is very clever and very amusing; at least I found him so when he served me in his menial capacity, and certainly was much more intimate with him than I ever thought I could be with a servant. At all events, his education has not been neglected.”“Strange! very strange!” observed Mr Selwyn, “this is a curious world; but I fear that his history cannot be kept altogether a secret, for you must recollect, mademoiselle, that his father’s property must be claimed, and no doubt it will be disputed. I must go to Doctor’s Commons and search out the will at once of Colonel Dempster; he intends, as I presume he does by what he said just now, to employ me. After all, it will, if known, be but a nine days’ wonder, and do him no harm, for he proves his birth by his appearance, and his breeding is so innate as to have conquered all his disadvantages.”“When I knew him as a servant, I thought him an intelligent and witty lad, but I never could have believed that he would have become so improved in such a short time: not only his manners, but his language is so different.”“It wasinhim,” replied Mr Selwyn; “as a domestic the manners and language of a gentleman would have been out of place, and he did not attempt them; now that he knows his position, he has called them forth. We must find out this Mrs Green, and have her testimony as soon as possible. Of course, after the deposition of old Roberts, Sir Thomas Moystyn will not be surprised when I communicate to him the confession of Lady R—, and the disposition of her property. In fact, the only difficulty will be in the recovery of the property of his father, Colonel Dempster, and—”A knock at the street door announced the return of Lionel. When he entered the room, Mr Selwyn said, “Mr Dempster, that you are the nephew of Lady R—, to whom she has bequeathed her property, and what was your own, is sufficiently established in my opinion. I will, therefore, with your permission, read her ladyship’s will.”Lionel took a seat, and the will was read. When it was finished, Mr Selwyn said, “Having been Lady R—’s legal adviser for many years I am able to tell you, within a trifle, what property you will receive. There are 57000 three per cents; this house and furniture, which I purchased the lease of for her, and which is only saddled with a ground-rent for the next forty years; and I find, a balance of 1200 pounds at the banker’s. Your father’s property, Mr Dempster, of course, I know nothing about, but will ascertain this to-morrow by going to Doctors’ Commons. I think I may venture to assure the executrix, that she will run no risk in allowing you to take any sum of money you may require from the balance in the bank, as soon as the will is proved, which had better be done to-morrow, if it suits Mademoiselle de Chatenoeuf.”“Certainly,” replied I; “I am anxious to get rid of my trust as soon as possible, and give Mr Dempster possession. There is a tin box of papers, Mr Selwyn, which I cannot get at till the return of Lady R—’s maid, as the keys are with Lady R—’s effects which she is bringing home with her.”“Yes, they will no doubt be important,” replied Mr Selwyn: “and now, Mr Dempster, if you are in want of any ready cash, I shall be your banker with pleasure till you can have possession of your own.”“I thank you, sir, I am not in want of any,” replied Lionel, “for the present; but, as soon as I may be permitted to have money from the bank I shall be glad, as it is not my intention to remain in England.”“Indeed!” exclaimed I.“No, Mademoiselle Valerie,” said Lionel. “I am but too well aware of many deficiencies which must arise from the position I have been so long in, not to wish to remedy them as soon as possible, and, before I appear as the heir of Lady R—, it is my intention, as soon as I can, to go to Paris, and remain there for two years, or, perhaps, until I am of age; and I think in that time to improve myself, and make myself more what the son of Colonel Dempster should be. I am young yet, and capable of instruction.”“You propose a very proper step, Mr Dempster,” said Mr Selwyn; “and during your absence all legal proceedings will be over, and, if the whole affair is made public, it will be forgotten again by the time that you propose to return. I am sure that the executrix will be most happy to forward such very judicious arrangements. I will now take my leave, and beg Mademoiselle de Chatenoeuf to meet me at Doctors’ Commons at three o’clock to-morrow; that will give me time to look for Colonel Dempster’s will. Good-morning, mademoiselle; good-morning, Mr Dempster.”Mr Selwyn went out, and left us alone.“May I ask, Miss Valerie, whether you have left Lady M—?”“Yes,” replied I; and I told him what had passed, adding, “I stay here for a night or two, and shall go then to Madame Gironac’s.”“Why not stay here altogether? I hope you will. I shall go abroad as soon as possible.”“Yes, and you are right in so doing; but, Lionel, you forget that my duty as executrix will be to make the best of the estate for you until you are of age, and this house must be let furnished; Mr Selwyn told me so, while you were away; besides, I am not a young lady of fortune, but one most unfortunately dependent upon the caprices of others, and I must submit to my fate.”Lionel made no reply for some little while, and then he said, “I am very glad that Lady R— has showed the high opinion she had of you, but I cannot forgive her treatment of my mother. It was too cruel; but I had better not talk any more about it; and I am sure, Miss Valerie, you must be anxious to be alone. Good afternoon, Miss Valerie.”“Good-bye, Lionel, for the present,” replied I. “By-the-bye, did the cook recognise you?”“Yes; and I told her that I had given up going out to service.”“I think that you had better not come here, Lionel, till I have dismissed Lady R—’s maid, which I shall do the day after her arrival. I will meet you at Mr Selywn’s office—it will be better.”To this Lionel agreed, and we parted.The next day the will was proved, and Mr Selwyn then informed us that he had found the will of the late Colonel Dempster, which had left his property to his child unborn, as might be supposed, with a jointure on the estate, which was entailed. The will, in consequence of the supposed non-existence of Lionel, had been proved by the next of kin, a gentleman of large property, and of whom report spoke highly. It was the intention of Mr Selwyn to communicate with him directly. The probate-duty, etcetera, had required a large portion of the 1200 pounds left in the bank, but there was still enough to meet all Lionel’s wants for a year, if he wished to go abroad immediately, and another dividend would be due in a month, so that there could be no difficulty. Mr Selwyn explained all this as we drove to his chambers, where I signed some papers at his request, and Lionel received a check on the bank, and I sent, by Mr Selwyn, instructions to meet his drafts for the future.This affair being arranged, Lionel stated his intention of quitting immediately for Paris. He said that he would go for his passport that afternoon, as there was time enough left for him to give in his name at the office; and that he would call to-morrow afternoon to bid me farewell. He then took his leave, and left me with Mr Selwyn, with whom I had a long conversation, during which I stated to him that I had some money of my own, as well as what had been left me by Lady R—, which I wished to put in safety. He recommended that I should lodge what I then had at a banker’s, and, as soon as I had received the rest, he would look out for a good mortgage for me. He then handed me into a coach, and bade me farewell, stating that he would call on the day after the morrow, at three o’clock, as by that time Lady R—’s maid must have arrived, and I should have obtained possession of the key of the tin box, the papers in which he was anxious to examine.On my return to Baker Street, I found that Lady R—’s maid had arrived, and I, of course, immediately took possession of everything. I then paid her her wages, and dismissed her, giving her permission to remain and sleep in the house, and promising her a character. It appeared very summary to dismiss her so soon, but I was anxious she should not see Lionel, and I told her that, as executrix, I was not warranted in keeping her a day longer than was necessary, as I was answerable for all expenses. Having now the keys, I was able to examine everything. I first found the tin box, with various papers in it; among others a packet, on which was written, “Papers relative to my sister Ellen and her child.” I thought I would not open them till Mr Selwyn was present, as it might appear as if I was curious, so I laid them aside. I then despatched the cook with a note to Madame Gironac, requesting that she would come and spend the evening with me, as I had much to communicate to her. Indeed, I felt dull alone in such a large house, and I also felt the want of a sincere friend to talk with.Having nothing better to do, I opened the various drawers and cupboards which contained the apparel, etcetera, of Lady R—, and found such a mass of things that I was astonished. In her whimsical way, she had at times purchased silks and various jewels, which she had never made use of, but thrown on one side. There were more stuffs for making up dresses than dresses made up,—I should say nearly double. I found one large bundle of point-lace, some of it of great beauty, which I presume had belonged to her mother; and of other laces there was a great quantity. The jewels which she had taken abroad with her were very few, and such as she wore in common; her diamonds, and all that was of value, I knew she had sent to her banker’s a day or two previous to her departure, and I thought I would wait till I had seen Mr Selwyn again before I claimed them.Madame Gironac came as requested, and I then communicated to her all that had taken place. She was delighted at my good fortune, and said she hoped that I would now come and live with them, as I had the means of living, without being subject to the caprices of others, but I could give no answer till I knew what my property might amount to. All I could promise was, to go to her as soon as I had finished my business in Baker Street, and then I would afterwards decide what steps it would be advisable for me to take.After a long conversation, during which Madame Gironac was as lively as ever, we separated, Madame Gironac promising to come and pass the next day with me, and assist me in looking over Lady R—’s wardrobe. During the afternoon, I had selected a good many of Lady R—’s dresses, and some which did not please my taste, or hadbeen much worn, I gave to her maid, on the following morning, before her departure. This pleased her very much, as she knew that her mistress’s wardrobe had been bequeathed to me, and did not expect to obtain any portion of it; but the drawers and closets were so loaded, that I could well afford to be generous. Madame Gironac came to breakfast the next morning, accompanied by her husband, who was delighted to see me, and having as usual quarrelled, after their fashion, he bounced out of the room, declaring that he never would see that odious little woman any more.“Oh, Monsieur Gironac, you forget you promised to come and dine here.”“Well, well, so I did; but, Mademoiselle Valerie, that promise has prevented a separation.”“It is very unlucky that you asked him, Mademoiselle Valerie,” replied his wife, “all my hopes are destroyed. Good-bye, Monsieur Gironac, and be grateful that you have been prevented from committing a folly; now go, we are to be very busy, and don’t want you.”“I will go, madame; and hear me,” said Monsieur Gironac, with mock solemnity; “as I live, I will not return—till dinner-time.”He then bounced out of the room. We then proceeded to sort and arrange. Madame Gironac, who was a good judge, stated the laces to be worth at least 200 pounds, and the other articles, such as silks, etcetera, with the dresses and lace, at about 100 pounds more. The laces and silks not made up she proposed selling for me, which she said that she could to various customers, and the dresses and lace she said could be disposed of to a person she knew, who gained her livelihood by re-making up such things.We were thus employed, when Lionel called. He had obtained his passport, and had come to wish me good-bye. When he rose to say farewell, he said, “Miss Valerie, I can hardly say what my feelings are towards you. Your kindness to me when I was a supposed footman, and the interest you always took in anything concerning me, have deeply impressed me with gratitude, but I feel more. You are much too young for my mother, but I feel the reverence of a son, and if I did dare to use the expression, I feel towards you, what I think are the feelings that a brother should have towards a sister.”“I am flattered by your saying so, Lionel,” replied I. “You are now in a much higher position, or rather soon will be, than I shall ever obtain in this world, and that you have such feelings towards me for any little kindness I have shown to you, is highly creditable to your heart. Have you any letters of introduction to anyone in Paris? but now I think of it, you cannot well have.”“No,” replied he; “I may have by and bye, but how could I possibly obtain one at present?”A thought struck me.“Well, Lionel, you do not know my history; but I was once very intimate with a lady at Paris, and, although we parted bad friends, she has since written kindly to me, and I believe her to have been sincere in so doing. I will give you a letter of introduction to her, but do not blame me if I have been deceived in her a second time.”I went to the table and wrote the following short note—“My dear Madame D’Albret,—“This letter will be presented to you by a Mr Lionel Dempster, a young Englishman of fortune, and a great friend of mine. He is going to reside at Paris to improve himself, until he comes of age; and I give him this introduction to you for two reasons; the first, because I want to prove to you that, although my feelings would not permit me to accept your last kind offer, I have long forgotten and forgiven any little injustice you did me: and the second, because I feel convinced that in your society, and that which you keep, he will gain more advantage than perhaps in any other in Paris.—Yours with esteem,—“Valerie de Chatenoeuf.”“There, Lionel, this may be of use to you; if not, write and let me know. You will of course let me hear from you occasionally?”“May Heaven preserve you, Miss Valerie!” replied Lionel. “I only hope the time may arrive when I may be able to prove my gratitude.”Lionel kissed my hand, and the tears rolled down his cheeks as he quitted the room.“He is a charming young man,” said Madame Gironac, as soon as the door was shut.“He is a very superior young man in my opinion,” replied I; “and I am most anxious that he should do well. I did not think it possible that I ever could have written again to Madame d’Albret, but my good-will towards him induced me. There is Monsieur Gironac’s knock, so now for a quarrel, or a reconciliation, which is it to be?”“Oh, we must reconcile first, and then have a quarrel afterwards: that is the established rule.”Monsieur Gironac soon joined us. We passed a very lively evening, and it was arranged that I should in three days take up my quarters at their house.The next day Mr Selwyn called at the time appointed, and I made over to him the box and papers. He told me that he had seen Mrs Green, and had had her full confession of what took place, in corroboration of all that was stated by Lady R— and old Roberts, and that he had written to Mr Armiger Dempster, who had succeeded to the property of Lionel’s father.I then told him that I wished to go with him to the bank, to lodge the money I then had, and to obtain Lady R—’s jewel-case which was deposited there.“Nothing like the time present,” said Mr Selwyn; “my carriage is at the door. I will have the pleasure of taking you there and then returning with you. But I have another appointment, and must be so impolite as to request that you will hurry your toilet as much as possible.”This was done, and in an hour I had lodged my money and obtained the jewel-case.Mr Selwyn took me back again, and, having put the tin box into the carriage, wished me farewell.I told him that I was about to take up my residence with the Gironacs, gave him their address, and then we parted.That evening I opened the jewel-case and found it well stocked. The value of its contents I could not possibly be acquainted with, but that so many diamonds and other stones were of value I knew well. I placed the other caskets of Lady R— in the case, and then proceeded to make up my packages ready for transportation to Madame Gironac’s, for there were a great many trunks full. I occupied myself with this for the remainder of the time that I was in Baker Street, and when Monsieur Gironac and his wife called, according to promise, to take me to their home, it required two coaches, and well loaded, to take all the luggage; a third conveyed Monsieur and Madame Gironac, myself, and the jewel-case. I found a very cheerful room prepared for me, and I had the pleasant feeling, as we sat down to our small dinner, that I had a home.Madame Gironac was indefatigable in her exertions, and soon disposed of all the laces and wardrobe that I had decided upon parting with, and I paid the sum that they realised, viz., 310 pounds, into the banker’s. The disposal of the jewels was a more difficult affair, but they were valued by a friend of Monsieur Gironac’s, who had once been in the trade, at 630 pounds. After many attempts to dispose of them more favourably, I succeeded in obtaining for them the sum of 570 pounds.Mr Selwyn had called upon me once or twice, and I had received my legacy with interest; deducting the legacy duty of 50 pounds, it came to 458 pounds. I had, therefore, the following sums in all: 230 pounds of my savings; 310 pounds for the wardrobe and laces, 570 pounds for the jewels, and 458 pounds for the legacy, amounting in all to 1568 pounds. Who would have imagined three months before, that I should ever have possessed such a sum? I did not, certainly.Mr Selwyn, as soon as he knew what sum I had to dispose of, viz., 1500 pounds, for I had retained the 68 pounds for my expenses, procured me a mortgage at five per cent, on excellent landed security; and thus did the poor forlorn Valerie possess an income of 75 pounds per annum.As soon as this was all arranged, I felt a tranquillity I had not known before. I was now independent. I could work, it is true, if I felt inclined, and had an opportunity. I could, however, do without work. The Gironacs, finding that I insisted upon paying for my board, and knowing that I could now afford it, agreed to receive forty pounds per annum—more they would not listen to. Oh! what a balm to the feelings is the consciousness of independence, especially to one who had been treated as I had been. There were two situations to which I had taken a violent abhorrence—that of a governess, and now that of a milliner; and I thanked Heaven that I was no longer under any fear of being driven into either of those unfortunate employments. For the first month that I remained with the Gironacs, I absolutely did nothing but enjoy my emancipation; after that, I began to talk over matters with Monsieur Gironac, who pointed out to me, that now that I could live upon my own means, I should endeavour to increase them, so as to be still more at my ease.“What do you propose that I should do, then, monsieur,” replied I.“I should propose that you establish yourself as a music-mistress, and give lessons on the pianoforte and singing. By degrees, you will get a connection, and you will still be your own mistress.”“And when you have nothing else to do, mademoiselle, you must make flowers in wax,” said Madame Gironac. “You make them so well, that I can always sell yours when I cannot my own.”“I must not interfere with you, Elise,” said I; “that would be very ungrateful on my part.”“Pooh—nonsense—there are customers enough for us both.”I thought this advice to be very good, and made up my mind to follow it. I had not money sufficient to purchase a piano just then, as it would be five months before the half-year’s interest of the mortgage would be due; so I hired one from a dealer with whom Monsieur Gironac was intimate, and practised several hours every day. Fortune appeared inclined to favour me, for I obtained employment from four different channels.The first and most important was this: I went every Sunday to the Catholic Chapel with Madame Gironac, and of course I joined in the singing. On the third Sunday as I was going out, I was touched on the arm by one of the priests, who requested to speak with me in the vestry. Madame Gironac and I followed him, and he requested us to sit down.“Who have I the pleasure of addressing?” said he to me.“Mademoiselle de Chatenoeuf, sir,” replied I.“I am not aware of your circumstances, mademoiselle,” said he, “but the name is one well known in France. Still those who hold our best names are very often not in affluent circumstances in this country. I trust, let it be as it may, that you will not be offended, but the fact is, your singing has been much admired, and we would wish for your service, gratuitous, if you are in good circumstances, but well paid for, if you are not, in the choir.”“Mademoiselle Chatenoeuf is not, I am sorry to say, in good circumstances, monsieur,” replied Madame Gironac.“Then I will promise that she shall be well rewarded for her exertions, if she will consent to sing in the chapel—but do you consent?”“I have no objection, sir,” replied I.“Allow me, then, to call the gentleman who presides over the choir,” said the priest, going out.“Accept by all means, Mademoiselle Valerie. It will be an introduction for you as a music-mistress, and very advantageous.”“I agree with you,” replied I, “and I like singing sacred music.”The priest returned with a gentleman, who told me that he had listened with great pleasure to my singing, and begged, as a favour, that I would sing him a solo, which he had brought with him.As I could sing at sight, I did so. He was satisfied, and it was agreed that I should come on Saturday, at twelve, to practice with the rest of the choir. The following Sunday I sang with them, and also sang the solos. After the service was over, I received three guineas for my performance, and was informed that a similar sum would be given to me every Sunday on which I sang. My voice was much admired; and, when it was known that I gave lessons, I very soon had engagements from many Catholic families. My charges to them were moderate, five shillings a lesson of one hour.The next channel was through Monsieur and Madame Gironac. He recommended me to a gentleman whom he taught, as a music-mistress for his sisters and daughters, and she to all her various customers and employers. I soon obtained several pupils by her exertions. The third was from an intimacy I had formed with an acquaintance of Madame Gironac, with a Mademoiselle Adèle Chabot, who was of a good French family, but earning her livelihood as a French teacher in one of the most fashionable schools in Kensington.Through her recommendation, I obtained the teaching of the young ladies at the school, but of her more hereafter. The fourth channel was through the kindness of Mr Selwyn, the lawyer, to whom I shall now again revert. I had several visits from Mr Selwyn after I had left Baker Street, and on one of these he informed me, that upon the proofs of Lionel Dempster’s identity being examined by the legal advisers of Mr Dempster, of Yorkshire, they were considered so positive that the aforenamed gentleman immediately came to terms, agreeing to give up the property to Lionel, provided, in consequence of the great improvements he had made, he was not come upon for arrears of income arising from it. That Mr Selwyn advised this offer to be accepted, as it would prevent any exposure of Lady R—, and the circumstances under which Lionel had been brought up, from being made public. Lionel had written to say that he was anxious that any sacrifice should be made rather than the affair should be exposed; and the terms were consented to, and Lionel came into possession of further property, to the amount of 900 pounds per annum. As we became more intimate, Mr Selwyn asked me many particulars relative to myself, and, by his habit of cross-examining, soon gained the best portion of my history; only one point I did not mention to him,—that my family supposed that I was dead.
I put the papers down on the table as soon as I had finished them, and for a long while was absorbed in meditation.
“Is it possible,” thought I, “that love disappointed can turn to such fury—can so harden the heart to all better feelings—induce a woman to shorten the days of her parent—to allow a sister to remain in painful error on her death-bed, and wreak vengeance upon an innocent being, regardless of all justice? Grant, then, that I may never yield to such a passion! Who would have ever imagined, that the careless, eccentric Lady R— had such a load of crime weighing her down, and daily and hourly reminded of it by the presence of the injured party? How callous she must have become by habit, to still delay doing an act of justice—how strange that the fear of the world and its opinion should be greater than the fear of God!”
This last remark proved how little I yet knew of the world, and then my thoughts went in a different direction. As I have already said, I had been brought up as a Catholic; but, after my grandmother’s death, I had little encouragement or example shown me in religious duties. Now, having been more than two years in England, and continually with Protestants, I had gone to the established Protestant church with those I resided with at first; because I considered it better to go to that church, although I knew it to be somewhat at variance with my own, rather than go to no church at all, and by habit I was gradually inclining to Protestantism; but now the idea came across my mind, if Lady R— had confessed as we Catholics do, this secret could not have been kept so long; and, if she withheld herself from the confessional, had her agents been Catholics, the secret would have been divulged to the priest by them, and justice would have been done to Lionel; and, having made this reflection, I felt as it were, that I was again a sincere Catholic.
After a little more reflection, I put away the papers, wrote a letter to Mr Selwyn, the solicitor, requesting that he would call upon me the following morning, and then went down to Lady M—.
“I suppose that we shall not have much of the pleasure of your company, Miss de Chatenoeuf,” said her ladyship, “now that you have such a novel occupation?”
“It is a very distressing one,” replied I, “and I wish Lady R— had not paid me such a compliment. Might I trespass upon your ladyship’s kindness to request the loan of the carriage for half-an-hour to obtain some papers from Lady R—’s house in Baker Street?”
“Oh, certainly,” replied her ladyship. “Pray have you seen Lady R—’s will?”
“Yes, madame.”
“And how has she disposed of her property?”
“She has left it all to her nephew, Lady M—.”
“Nephew! I never heard her speak of a nephew before. Sir Richard had no nephews or nieces, for he was an only son, and the title has now gone into the Vivian branch, and I never heard of her having a nephew. And what has she left you, mademoiselle, if it is not asking too much?”
“Lady R— has left me 500 pounds, my lady.”
“Indeed! well then, she pays you for your trouble. But really, Miss de Chatenoeuf, I do wish you could put off this business until after the marriages. I am so hurried and worried that I really do not know which way to turn, and really I have felt your loss these last two days more than you can imagine. You are so clever, and have so much taste, that we cannot get on without you. It’s all your own fault,” continued her ladyship, playfully, “you are so good-natured, and have made us so dependent upon you, that we cannot let you off now. Nothing in thetrousseauxis approved of, unless stamped by the taste of Mademoiselle Valerie de Chatenoeuf. Now, a week cannot make a great difference, and lawyers love delay: will you oblige me, therefore, by leaving Lady R—’s affairs for the present?”
“Certainly, Lady M—,” replied I. “I will stop a letter I was about to send to her solicitor, and write another to the effect you wish, and I will not repeat my request for the carriage until after the marriages have taken place.”
“Many thanks,” replied her ladyship, and I went out, took my letter from the hall table, and wrote another to Mr Selwyn, stating that I could not enter into any business until the following week, when I should be prepared to receive him.
I wrote another to the same effect to Lionel, requesting him not to call again, but that I would write and let him know where to meet me as soon as I was more at leisure.
Indeed I was glad that Lady M— had made the request, as the trouble and chattering and happy faces which were surrounding the trousseaux, and the constant employment and appeals made to me, drove away the melancholy which Lady R—’s affairs had occasioned me. I succeeded to a great degree in recovering my spirits, and exerted myself to my utmost, so that everything was complete and satisfactory to all parties two days before the wedding was to take place.
At last, the morning came. The brides were dressed and went down into the drawing-room, frightened and perplexed, but their tears had been shed above. The procession of carriages moved on to Hanover Square; there was a bishop of course, and the church was filled with gay and tastefully-dressed women. The ceremony was performed, and the brides were led into the vestry-room to recover, and receive kisses and congratulations. Then came the banquet, which nobody hardly tasted except the bishop, who had joined too many couples in his lifetime to have his appetite at all affected by the ceremony, and some two or three others who were old stagers on the road of life, and who cared little whether it was a wedding-breakfast, or refreshments after a funeral.
At last, after a most silent entertainment, the brides retired to change their dresses, and, when they re-appeared, they were handed into the carriages of their respective bridegrooms as soon as they could be torn away from the kisses and tears of Lady M—, who played the part of a bereaved mother to perfection. No one to have seen her then, raving like another Niobe, would have imagined that all her thoughts and endeavours and manoeuvres, for the last three years, had been devoted to the sole view of getting them off; but Lady M— was a perfect actress, and this last scene was well got up.
As her daughters were led down to the carriages, I thought that she was going to faint; but it appeared, on second thoughts, that she wished first to see the girls depart in their gay equipages; she therefore tottered to the window, saw them get in, looked at Newman’s greys and gay postillions—at the white and silver favours—the dandy valet and smart lady’s-maid in each rumble. She saw them start at a rattling pace, watched them till they turned the corner of the square, and then—and not till then—fell senseless in my arms, and was carried by the attendants into her own room.
After all, the poor woman must have been very much worn out, for she had been for the last six weeks in a continual worry lest anycontre-tempsshould happen, which might have stopped or delayed the happy consummation.
The next morning her ladyship did not leave her room, but sent word down that the carriage was at my service; but I was fatigued and worn out, and declined it for that day. I wrote to Lionel and to Mr Selwyn, desiring them to meet me in Baker Street, at two o’clock the next day; and then passed the day quietly, in company with Amy, the third daughter of Lady M—, whom I have before mentioned. She was a very sweet, unaffected girl; and I was more partial to her than to her sisters, who had been just married. I had paid great attention to her, for she had a fine voice, and did credit to my teaching, and there was a great intimacy between us, arising on my part from my admiration of her ingenuous and amiable disposition, which even her mother’s example to the contrary could not spoil.
After some conversation relative to her sisters and their husbands, she said, “I hardly know what to do, Valerie. I love you too well to be a party to your being ill-treated, and yet I fear that you will be pained if I tell you what I have heard about you. I know also that you will not stay, if I do tell you, and that will give me great pain; butthatis a selfish feeling which I could overcome. What I do not like is hurting your feelings. Now, tell me candidly, ought I to tell you, or not?”
“I will give you my opinion candidly,” replied I. “You have said too little or too much. You speak of my being ill-treated; certainly, I should wish to guard against that, although I cannot imagine who is my enemy.”
“Had I not heard it, I could not have believed it either,” replied she. “I thought that you had come here on a visit as a friend; but what makes me think that I ought to tell you is, that there will be something said against your character, which I am sure, must be false.”
“Now, indeed, I must request that you will tell me everything, and soften nothing down, but tell me the whole truth. Who is it that intends to attack my character?”
“I am sorry—very sorry to say, it is mamma,” replied she, wiping away a tear.
“Lady M—!” exclaimed I.
“Yes,” replied she; “but now you must listen to all I have to say. I am sure that I am doing right in telling you, and therefore nothing shall prevent me. I love my mother—what a sad thing it is that I cannot respect her! I was in the dressing-room, when my mother was lying on the sofa in her bedroom this morning, when her great friend, Mrs Germane, came up. She sat talking with my mother for some time, and they appeared either to forget or not to care if I heard them; for at last your name was mentioned.
“‘Well, she does dress you and your girls beautifully, I must say,’ said Mrs Germane. ‘Who is she? They say that she is of a good family; and how came she to live with you as a milliner?’
“‘My dear Mrs Germane, that she does live with me as a milliner is true, and it was for that reason only I invited her to the house; but she is not aware that I retain her in that capacity. She is, I understand from Mrs Bathurst, of a noble family in France, thrown upon the world by circumstances, very talented, and very proud. Her extreme taste in dress I discovered when she was living with Mrs Bathurst; and, when I found that she was about, through my management, to leave Lady R—, I invited her here as a sort of friend, and to stay with my daughters—not a word did I mention about millinery; I had too much tact for that. Even when her services were required, I made it appear as her own offer, and expressed my thanks for her condescension, and since that, by flattery and management, she has continued to dress my daughters for me; and, I must say, that I do believe it has been owing to her exquisite taste that my daughters have gone off so well.’
“‘Well, you have managed admirably,’ replied Mrs Germane; ‘but, my dear Lady M—, what will you do with her now?’
“‘Oh,’ replied Lady M—, ‘as Amy will now come out, I shall retain her in my employ until she is disposed of; and then—’
“‘Yes, then will be the difficulty,’ replied Mrs Germane; ‘after having allowed her to live so long with you as a visitor, I may say, how will you get rid of her?’
“‘Why, I was puzzling myself about that, and partly decided that it should be done by mortifying her, and wounding her feelings, for she is very proud; but, fortunately, I have found out something which I shall keep to myself, until the time comes, and then I can dismiss her at a moment’s warning.’
“‘Indeed!’ said Mrs Germane, ‘what could you have found out?’
“‘Well, I will tell you; but you must not mention it again. My maid entered the room the other day, when mademoiselle was receiving a young man who called upon her, and she found them kissing.’
“‘You don’t say so!’
“‘Yes, a kiss was given, and my maid saw it. Now, I can easily make it appear that my maid never mentioned it to me till the time that it may be convenient to make use of it, and then I can send her away; and if any questions are asked, hint at a little impropriety of conduct.’
“‘And very properly too,’ replied Mrs Germane. ‘Had I not better hint a little beforehand to prepare people?’
“‘Why, it may be as well, perhaps; but be cautious, very cautious, my dear Mrs Germane.’
“Mademoiselle de Chatenoeuf, I am sorry that I am obliged, in doing my duty to you, to expose mamma,” said Amy, rising up from her chair; “but I am sure that you could not be guilty of any impropriety, and I will not allow you to be accused of it, if it is to be prevented.”
“Many thanks,” replied I. “My dear Amy, you have behaved like a kind friend. I have only, in duty to myself, to clear up the charge against me, of impropriety. You must not imagine me guilty of that. It is true that your mother’s maid did come in when a young lad of seventeen, who was grateful to me for the interest I took in his welfare, and who was taking leave of me at the time, did raise my hand to his lips and kiss it, and, had he done so before your mother, I should not have prevented it. This was the kiss which, as your mother asserts, passed between us, and this is the only impropriety that took place. Oh, what a sad, treacherous, selfish, wicked world this is!” cried I, throwing myself on the sofa, and bursting into tears.
Amy was making every attempt to console me, and blaming herself for having made the communication, when Lady M— came downstairs into the room.
“What is all this—what a scene!” exclaimed she. “Mademoiselle de Chatenoeuf, have you had any bad news?”
“Yes, my lady,” replied I, “so bad that I am under the necessity of leaving you directly.”
“Indeed! may I inquire what has happened?”
“No, my lady, it is not in my power to tell you. I have only to repeat, that I must, with your permission, leave this house to-morrow morning.”
“Well, mademoiselle,” replied her ladyship, “I do not want to pry into your secrets, but this I must say, that where there is concealment, there must be wrong; but I have lately discovered so much, that I do not wonder at concealment—nor am I, indeed, surprised at your wish to leave me.”
“Lady M—,” replied I, haughtily, “I have never done anything during the time that I have been under your roof which I have to blush for—nor indeed anything that requires concealment. This I can proudly say. If I conceal now, it is to spare others, and, I may add, to spare you. Do not oblige me to say more in presence of your daughter. It will be sufficient for me to hint to you, that I am now aware why I was invited to your house, and what are your plans for dismissing me when it suits you.”
“Eaves-dropping, then, is a portion of your character, mademoiselle,” cried Lady M—, colouring up to the temples.
“No, madam, such is not the case, and that is all the answer I shall give; it is sufficient for you that you are exposed, and I do not envy your present feelings. I have only to repeat, that I shall leave this house to-morrow morning, and I will not further trouble your ladyship with my company.”
I then walked out of the room, and as I passed Lady M—, and observed her confusion and vexation, I felt that it was she who was humiliated, and not me. I went up to my room and commenced my preparations for immediate departure, and had been more than an hour busy in packing up, when Amy came into my room.
“Oh, Valerie, how sorry I am—but you have behaved just as I think that you ought to have done; and how very kind of you not to say that I told you. My mother was so angry after you left; said that the maids must have been listening, and declares she will give them all warning; but I know that she will not do that. She spoke about your meeting a young man, and kissing going on; but you have already explained all that.”
“Amy,” replied I, “after I am gone, take an opportunity of saying to Lady M—, that you mentioned this to me, and tell her that my reply was, if Lady M— knew who that young man was, how he is connected, and how large a fortune he will inherit, she would be very glad to see him kiss one of her daughter’s hands with a different feeling from that which induced him to kiss mine.”
“I will, depend upon it,” said Amy, “and then mamma will think that she has lost a good husband for me.”
“She will meet him some of these days,” replied I; “and what is more, he will defend me from any attack made on that score.”
“I will tell her that, also,” said Amy, “it will make her careful of what she says.”
One of the servants then knocked at the door, and said, that Lady M— wished to see Miss Amy.
“Wish me good-bye now,” said I, “for you may not be permitted to see me again.”
The dear girl embraced me cordially, and, with tears in her eyes, left the room. I remained till I had finished packing, and then sat down. Shortly afterwards her ladyship’s maid came in, and delivered me an envelope from her ladyship, enclosing the salary due to me, with Lady M—’s compliments written outside.
I saw no more of Lady M— or her daughter that evening. I went to bed, and, as in my former changes, I reflected what steps I should take. As for the treatment I had received, I was now to a certain degree hardened to it, and my feelings certainly were not so acute as when, the first time, I had received a lesson of what I might expect through life from the heartlessness and selfishness of the world; but in the present case there was a difficulty which did not exist in the former—I was going away without knowing where I was to go. After a little thought, I determined that I would seek Madame Gironac, and ascertain whether she could not receive me until I had decided upon my future plans.
My thoughts then recurred to other points. I recollected that I had to meet Mr Selwyn and Lionel in Baker Street, and I resolved that I would go there with my effects early the next morning and leave them in charge of the cook, who was taking care of the house. I calculated also the money that I had in possession and in prospect. I had such a good stock of clothes when I came to England with Madame Bathurst, that I had no occasion, during the two years and more that I had now been in England, to make any purchases of consequence—indeed, I had not expended more than the twenty pounds I had brought with me. I had received some few presents from Lady M— and Madame Bathurst, and a great many from Lady R—. Altogether, I calculated that I had about two hundred and sixty pounds in my desk, for Lady R— had given me one hundred pounds for only a portion of the year; then there was the five hundred pounds which she had left me, besides her wearing apparel and trinkets, which last I knew to be of value. It was a little fortune to one in my position, and I resolved to consult Mr Selwyn as to the best way of disposing of it. Having wound up my meditations with the most agreeable portion of them, I fell asleep, and in the morning woke up refreshed.
Lady M—’s maid, who had always been partial to me, for I had taught her many things valuable to a lady’s-maid, came in early, and said that she knew that I was going away, which she regretted very much. I replied that I should leave as soon as possible, but I wanted some breakfast. This she brought up to my room.
I had not finished when Amy came in the room and said, “I have permission to come and wish you good-bye, Valerie. I told mamma what you said about the person who was seen to kiss your hand. She acknowledges now that it was your hand that was kissed, and she was so astonished, for she knows that you never tell stories; and, what do you think, she desired me to find out what was the young gentleman’s name that had so large a fortune. I said I would if I could, and so I will, by asking you outright, not by any other means. I don’t want to know his name,” continued she, laughing, “but I’m sure mamma has in her mind fixed upon him for a husband for me, and would now give the world that you were not going away, that through you he might be introduced to her.”
“I cannot tell you, my dear,” replied I. “I am not at liberty to mention it at present, otherwise I would with pleasure. I am going now. May God bless you, my dearest, and may you always continue to be the same frank and amiable creature that you are now! I leave you with regret, and I pray earnestly for your happiness. You have made me very happy by telling me that your mamma acknowledges that it was my hand that was kissed, after that, she will hardly attempt to injure me, as she proposed.”
“Oh no, Valerie, I think she is afraid to do so now. This young man of fortune has made her think differently. He would, of course, protect you from slander, and expose her, if she attempted it. Then, good-bye.”
We embraced, and then I ordered a hackney-coach to be called, and drove with my luggage to Baker Street. The cook welcomed me, saying that she expected my coming, as Mr Selwyn had called to tell her of Lady R—’s death, and that when she asked to whom she was to look for her wages, he had told her that I was the person who was to settle all her ladyship’s affairs, as everything was left on my hands. She showed me a letter from Martha, Lady R—’s maid, by which I found that they would probably arrive in Baker Street that very day, with all her ladyship’s effects.
“I suppose you will sleep here, miss?” said the cook, “I have aired your bed, and your room is all ready.”
I replied that I wished to do so for a night or two, at all events, as I had a good deal to attend to, but that Mr Selwyn would call at one o’clock, and that I would speak to him on the subject.
I had requested Lionel to call at twelve, an hour previous to Mr Selwyn, that I might make him acquainted with the contents of Lady R—’s papers addressed to me. He was punctual to the time, and I shook hands with him, saying, “Lionel, I congratulate you, at now having proofs of your being the nephew of Lady R—, and also at her having left you considerable property. You will be surprised to hear that she has appointed me her executrix.”
“I am not at all surprised,” replied Lionel; “I am sure she has done a wise thing at last.”
“That is more than I am,” replied I, “but I appreciate the compliment. But, Lionel, there is no time to be lost, as Mr Selwyn, the lawyer, is coming here at one o’clock, and before he comes I wish you to read over Lady R—’s confession, if I may so call it, which will explain the motives of her conduct towards you. I am afraid that it will not extenuate her conduct, but recollect that she has now made all the reparation in her power, and that we must forgive as we hope to be forgiven. Sit down and read these papers, while I unpack one or two of my boxes upstairs.”
“The last time that we were here, I corded them up for you, Miss Valerie; I hope that you will allow me to assist you again.”
“Thank you, but you will have no time to read what Lady R— has said, and the cook and I can manage without you.”
I then left the room and went upstairs. I was still busy in my room when a knock at the street door announced the arrival of Mr Selwyn, and I went down into the drawing-room to meet him. I asked Lionel, who was walking up and down the room, whether he had finished the papers, and he replied by a nod of the head. The poor lad appeared very miserable, but Mr Selwyn entered, and I could not say more to him.
“I hope I have not kept you waiting, Mademoiselle de Chatenoeuf,” said he.
“No, indeed. I came here at ten o’clock, for I have left Lady M—, and I may as well ask at once whether there is any objection to my taking a bed in this house for a few nights?”
“Objection! Why, mademoiselle, you are sole executrix, and everything is at present yours in fact, for the time. You have, therefore, a right to take possession until he appears, and the will is proved.”
“The hero is before you, Mr Selwyn. Allow me to introduce you to Mr Lionel Dempster, the nephew of Lady R—”
Mr Selwyn bowed to Lionel, and congratulated him upon his accession to the property.
Lionel returned the salute, and then said, “Mademoiselle de Chatenoeuf I am convinced that in this case Mr Selwyn must have been made a party to all that has occurred. The reading of these papers has rather disturbed me, and it would be painful to me to hear everything repeated in my presence. With your permission, I will walk out for an hour, and leave you to explain everything to Mr Selwyn, for I am sure that I shall need his advice. Here is the confession of old Roberts which I shall leave for his perusal. Good-morning, then, for the present.”
So saying, Lionel took up his hat and quitted the room.
“He is a very prepossessing young man,” observed Mr Selwyn. “What a fine eye he has!”
“Yes,” replied I, “and now that he has so large a property, others will find out that he is a prepossessing young man with fine eyes; but sit down, Mr Selwyn, for you have to listen to a very strange narrative.”
When he had finished it, he laid it down on the table, saying, “This is perhaps the strangest history that has ever come to my knowledge during thirty years of practice. And so she brought him up as a footman. I now recognise him again as the lad who has so often opened the door for me, but I confess I never should have done so if I had not heard what you have now communicated.”
“He was always much above his position,” replied I. “He is very clever and very amusing; at least I found him so when he served me in his menial capacity, and certainly was much more intimate with him than I ever thought I could be with a servant. At all events, his education has not been neglected.”
“Strange! very strange!” observed Mr Selwyn, “this is a curious world; but I fear that his history cannot be kept altogether a secret, for you must recollect, mademoiselle, that his father’s property must be claimed, and no doubt it will be disputed. I must go to Doctor’s Commons and search out the will at once of Colonel Dempster; he intends, as I presume he does by what he said just now, to employ me. After all, it will, if known, be but a nine days’ wonder, and do him no harm, for he proves his birth by his appearance, and his breeding is so innate as to have conquered all his disadvantages.”
“When I knew him as a servant, I thought him an intelligent and witty lad, but I never could have believed that he would have become so improved in such a short time: not only his manners, but his language is so different.”
“It wasinhim,” replied Mr Selwyn; “as a domestic the manners and language of a gentleman would have been out of place, and he did not attempt them; now that he knows his position, he has called them forth. We must find out this Mrs Green, and have her testimony as soon as possible. Of course, after the deposition of old Roberts, Sir Thomas Moystyn will not be surprised when I communicate to him the confession of Lady R—, and the disposition of her property. In fact, the only difficulty will be in the recovery of the property of his father, Colonel Dempster, and—”
A knock at the street door announced the return of Lionel. When he entered the room, Mr Selwyn said, “Mr Dempster, that you are the nephew of Lady R—, to whom she has bequeathed her property, and what was your own, is sufficiently established in my opinion. I will, therefore, with your permission, read her ladyship’s will.”
Lionel took a seat, and the will was read. When it was finished, Mr Selwyn said, “Having been Lady R—’s legal adviser for many years I am able to tell you, within a trifle, what property you will receive. There are 57000 three per cents; this house and furniture, which I purchased the lease of for her, and which is only saddled with a ground-rent for the next forty years; and I find, a balance of 1200 pounds at the banker’s. Your father’s property, Mr Dempster, of course, I know nothing about, but will ascertain this to-morrow by going to Doctors’ Commons. I think I may venture to assure the executrix, that she will run no risk in allowing you to take any sum of money you may require from the balance in the bank, as soon as the will is proved, which had better be done to-morrow, if it suits Mademoiselle de Chatenoeuf.”
“Certainly,” replied I; “I am anxious to get rid of my trust as soon as possible, and give Mr Dempster possession. There is a tin box of papers, Mr Selwyn, which I cannot get at till the return of Lady R—’s maid, as the keys are with Lady R—’s effects which she is bringing home with her.”
“Yes, they will no doubt be important,” replied Mr Selwyn: “and now, Mr Dempster, if you are in want of any ready cash, I shall be your banker with pleasure till you can have possession of your own.”
“I thank you, sir, I am not in want of any,” replied Lionel, “for the present; but, as soon as I may be permitted to have money from the bank I shall be glad, as it is not my intention to remain in England.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed I.
“No, Mademoiselle Valerie,” said Lionel. “I am but too well aware of many deficiencies which must arise from the position I have been so long in, not to wish to remedy them as soon as possible, and, before I appear as the heir of Lady R—, it is my intention, as soon as I can, to go to Paris, and remain there for two years, or, perhaps, until I am of age; and I think in that time to improve myself, and make myself more what the son of Colonel Dempster should be. I am young yet, and capable of instruction.”
“You propose a very proper step, Mr Dempster,” said Mr Selwyn; “and during your absence all legal proceedings will be over, and, if the whole affair is made public, it will be forgotten again by the time that you propose to return. I am sure that the executrix will be most happy to forward such very judicious arrangements. I will now take my leave, and beg Mademoiselle de Chatenoeuf to meet me at Doctors’ Commons at three o’clock to-morrow; that will give me time to look for Colonel Dempster’s will. Good-morning, mademoiselle; good-morning, Mr Dempster.”
Mr Selwyn went out, and left us alone.
“May I ask, Miss Valerie, whether you have left Lady M—?”
“Yes,” replied I; and I told him what had passed, adding, “I stay here for a night or two, and shall go then to Madame Gironac’s.”
“Why not stay here altogether? I hope you will. I shall go abroad as soon as possible.”
“Yes, and you are right in so doing; but, Lionel, you forget that my duty as executrix will be to make the best of the estate for you until you are of age, and this house must be let furnished; Mr Selwyn told me so, while you were away; besides, I am not a young lady of fortune, but one most unfortunately dependent upon the caprices of others, and I must submit to my fate.”
Lionel made no reply for some little while, and then he said, “I am very glad that Lady R— has showed the high opinion she had of you, but I cannot forgive her treatment of my mother. It was too cruel; but I had better not talk any more about it; and I am sure, Miss Valerie, you must be anxious to be alone. Good afternoon, Miss Valerie.”
“Good-bye, Lionel, for the present,” replied I. “By-the-bye, did the cook recognise you?”
“Yes; and I told her that I had given up going out to service.”
“I think that you had better not come here, Lionel, till I have dismissed Lady R—’s maid, which I shall do the day after her arrival. I will meet you at Mr Selywn’s office—it will be better.”
To this Lionel agreed, and we parted.
The next day the will was proved, and Mr Selwyn then informed us that he had found the will of the late Colonel Dempster, which had left his property to his child unborn, as might be supposed, with a jointure on the estate, which was entailed. The will, in consequence of the supposed non-existence of Lionel, had been proved by the next of kin, a gentleman of large property, and of whom report spoke highly. It was the intention of Mr Selwyn to communicate with him directly. The probate-duty, etcetera, had required a large portion of the 1200 pounds left in the bank, but there was still enough to meet all Lionel’s wants for a year, if he wished to go abroad immediately, and another dividend would be due in a month, so that there could be no difficulty. Mr Selwyn explained all this as we drove to his chambers, where I signed some papers at his request, and Lionel received a check on the bank, and I sent, by Mr Selwyn, instructions to meet his drafts for the future.
This affair being arranged, Lionel stated his intention of quitting immediately for Paris. He said that he would go for his passport that afternoon, as there was time enough left for him to give in his name at the office; and that he would call to-morrow afternoon to bid me farewell. He then took his leave, and left me with Mr Selwyn, with whom I had a long conversation, during which I stated to him that I had some money of my own, as well as what had been left me by Lady R—, which I wished to put in safety. He recommended that I should lodge what I then had at a banker’s, and, as soon as I had received the rest, he would look out for a good mortgage for me. He then handed me into a coach, and bade me farewell, stating that he would call on the day after the morrow, at three o’clock, as by that time Lady R—’s maid must have arrived, and I should have obtained possession of the key of the tin box, the papers in which he was anxious to examine.
On my return to Baker Street, I found that Lady R—’s maid had arrived, and I, of course, immediately took possession of everything. I then paid her her wages, and dismissed her, giving her permission to remain and sleep in the house, and promising her a character. It appeared very summary to dismiss her so soon, but I was anxious she should not see Lionel, and I told her that, as executrix, I was not warranted in keeping her a day longer than was necessary, as I was answerable for all expenses. Having now the keys, I was able to examine everything. I first found the tin box, with various papers in it; among others a packet, on which was written, “Papers relative to my sister Ellen and her child.” I thought I would not open them till Mr Selwyn was present, as it might appear as if I was curious, so I laid them aside. I then despatched the cook with a note to Madame Gironac, requesting that she would come and spend the evening with me, as I had much to communicate to her. Indeed, I felt dull alone in such a large house, and I also felt the want of a sincere friend to talk with.
Having nothing better to do, I opened the various drawers and cupboards which contained the apparel, etcetera, of Lady R—, and found such a mass of things that I was astonished. In her whimsical way, she had at times purchased silks and various jewels, which she had never made use of, but thrown on one side. There were more stuffs for making up dresses than dresses made up,—I should say nearly double. I found one large bundle of point-lace, some of it of great beauty, which I presume had belonged to her mother; and of other laces there was a great quantity. The jewels which she had taken abroad with her were very few, and such as she wore in common; her diamonds, and all that was of value, I knew she had sent to her banker’s a day or two previous to her departure, and I thought I would wait till I had seen Mr Selwyn again before I claimed them.
Madame Gironac came as requested, and I then communicated to her all that had taken place. She was delighted at my good fortune, and said she hoped that I would now come and live with them, as I had the means of living, without being subject to the caprices of others, but I could give no answer till I knew what my property might amount to. All I could promise was, to go to her as soon as I had finished my business in Baker Street, and then I would afterwards decide what steps it would be advisable for me to take.
After a long conversation, during which Madame Gironac was as lively as ever, we separated, Madame Gironac promising to come and pass the next day with me, and assist me in looking over Lady R—’s wardrobe. During the afternoon, I had selected a good many of Lady R—’s dresses, and some which did not please my taste, or hadbeen much worn, I gave to her maid, on the following morning, before her departure. This pleased her very much, as she knew that her mistress’s wardrobe had been bequeathed to me, and did not expect to obtain any portion of it; but the drawers and closets were so loaded, that I could well afford to be generous. Madame Gironac came to breakfast the next morning, accompanied by her husband, who was delighted to see me, and having as usual quarrelled, after their fashion, he bounced out of the room, declaring that he never would see that odious little woman any more.
“Oh, Monsieur Gironac, you forget you promised to come and dine here.”
“Well, well, so I did; but, Mademoiselle Valerie, that promise has prevented a separation.”
“It is very unlucky that you asked him, Mademoiselle Valerie,” replied his wife, “all my hopes are destroyed. Good-bye, Monsieur Gironac, and be grateful that you have been prevented from committing a folly; now go, we are to be very busy, and don’t want you.”
“I will go, madame; and hear me,” said Monsieur Gironac, with mock solemnity; “as I live, I will not return—till dinner-time.”
He then bounced out of the room. We then proceeded to sort and arrange. Madame Gironac, who was a good judge, stated the laces to be worth at least 200 pounds, and the other articles, such as silks, etcetera, with the dresses and lace, at about 100 pounds more. The laces and silks not made up she proposed selling for me, which she said that she could to various customers, and the dresses and lace she said could be disposed of to a person she knew, who gained her livelihood by re-making up such things.
We were thus employed, when Lionel called. He had obtained his passport, and had come to wish me good-bye. When he rose to say farewell, he said, “Miss Valerie, I can hardly say what my feelings are towards you. Your kindness to me when I was a supposed footman, and the interest you always took in anything concerning me, have deeply impressed me with gratitude, but I feel more. You are much too young for my mother, but I feel the reverence of a son, and if I did dare to use the expression, I feel towards you, what I think are the feelings that a brother should have towards a sister.”
“I am flattered by your saying so, Lionel,” replied I. “You are now in a much higher position, or rather soon will be, than I shall ever obtain in this world, and that you have such feelings towards me for any little kindness I have shown to you, is highly creditable to your heart. Have you any letters of introduction to anyone in Paris? but now I think of it, you cannot well have.”
“No,” replied he; “I may have by and bye, but how could I possibly obtain one at present?”
A thought struck me.
“Well, Lionel, you do not know my history; but I was once very intimate with a lady at Paris, and, although we parted bad friends, she has since written kindly to me, and I believe her to have been sincere in so doing. I will give you a letter of introduction to her, but do not blame me if I have been deceived in her a second time.”
I went to the table and wrote the following short note—
“My dear Madame D’Albret,—
“This letter will be presented to you by a Mr Lionel Dempster, a young Englishman of fortune, and a great friend of mine. He is going to reside at Paris to improve himself, until he comes of age; and I give him this introduction to you for two reasons; the first, because I want to prove to you that, although my feelings would not permit me to accept your last kind offer, I have long forgotten and forgiven any little injustice you did me: and the second, because I feel convinced that in your society, and that which you keep, he will gain more advantage than perhaps in any other in Paris.—Yours with esteem,—
“Valerie de Chatenoeuf.”
“There, Lionel, this may be of use to you; if not, write and let me know. You will of course let me hear from you occasionally?”
“May Heaven preserve you, Miss Valerie!” replied Lionel. “I only hope the time may arrive when I may be able to prove my gratitude.”
Lionel kissed my hand, and the tears rolled down his cheeks as he quitted the room.
“He is a charming young man,” said Madame Gironac, as soon as the door was shut.
“He is a very superior young man in my opinion,” replied I; “and I am most anxious that he should do well. I did not think it possible that I ever could have written again to Madame d’Albret, but my good-will towards him induced me. There is Monsieur Gironac’s knock, so now for a quarrel, or a reconciliation, which is it to be?”
“Oh, we must reconcile first, and then have a quarrel afterwards: that is the established rule.”
Monsieur Gironac soon joined us. We passed a very lively evening, and it was arranged that I should in three days take up my quarters at their house.
The next day Mr Selwyn called at the time appointed, and I made over to him the box and papers. He told me that he had seen Mrs Green, and had had her full confession of what took place, in corroboration of all that was stated by Lady R— and old Roberts, and that he had written to Mr Armiger Dempster, who had succeeded to the property of Lionel’s father.
I then told him that I wished to go with him to the bank, to lodge the money I then had, and to obtain Lady R—’s jewel-case which was deposited there.
“Nothing like the time present,” said Mr Selwyn; “my carriage is at the door. I will have the pleasure of taking you there and then returning with you. But I have another appointment, and must be so impolite as to request that you will hurry your toilet as much as possible.”
This was done, and in an hour I had lodged my money and obtained the jewel-case.
Mr Selwyn took me back again, and, having put the tin box into the carriage, wished me farewell.
I told him that I was about to take up my residence with the Gironacs, gave him their address, and then we parted.
That evening I opened the jewel-case and found it well stocked. The value of its contents I could not possibly be acquainted with, but that so many diamonds and other stones were of value I knew well. I placed the other caskets of Lady R— in the case, and then proceeded to make up my packages ready for transportation to Madame Gironac’s, for there were a great many trunks full. I occupied myself with this for the remainder of the time that I was in Baker Street, and when Monsieur Gironac and his wife called, according to promise, to take me to their home, it required two coaches, and well loaded, to take all the luggage; a third conveyed Monsieur and Madame Gironac, myself, and the jewel-case. I found a very cheerful room prepared for me, and I had the pleasant feeling, as we sat down to our small dinner, that I had a home.
Madame Gironac was indefatigable in her exertions, and soon disposed of all the laces and wardrobe that I had decided upon parting with, and I paid the sum that they realised, viz., 310 pounds, into the banker’s. The disposal of the jewels was a more difficult affair, but they were valued by a friend of Monsieur Gironac’s, who had once been in the trade, at 630 pounds. After many attempts to dispose of them more favourably, I succeeded in obtaining for them the sum of 570 pounds.
Mr Selwyn had called upon me once or twice, and I had received my legacy with interest; deducting the legacy duty of 50 pounds, it came to 458 pounds. I had, therefore, the following sums in all: 230 pounds of my savings; 310 pounds for the wardrobe and laces, 570 pounds for the jewels, and 458 pounds for the legacy, amounting in all to 1568 pounds. Who would have imagined three months before, that I should ever have possessed such a sum? I did not, certainly.
Mr Selwyn, as soon as he knew what sum I had to dispose of, viz., 1500 pounds, for I had retained the 68 pounds for my expenses, procured me a mortgage at five per cent, on excellent landed security; and thus did the poor forlorn Valerie possess an income of 75 pounds per annum.
As soon as this was all arranged, I felt a tranquillity I had not known before. I was now independent. I could work, it is true, if I felt inclined, and had an opportunity. I could, however, do without work. The Gironacs, finding that I insisted upon paying for my board, and knowing that I could now afford it, agreed to receive forty pounds per annum—more they would not listen to. Oh! what a balm to the feelings is the consciousness of independence, especially to one who had been treated as I had been. There were two situations to which I had taken a violent abhorrence—that of a governess, and now that of a milliner; and I thanked Heaven that I was no longer under any fear of being driven into either of those unfortunate employments. For the first month that I remained with the Gironacs, I absolutely did nothing but enjoy my emancipation; after that, I began to talk over matters with Monsieur Gironac, who pointed out to me, that now that I could live upon my own means, I should endeavour to increase them, so as to be still more at my ease.
“What do you propose that I should do, then, monsieur,” replied I.
“I should propose that you establish yourself as a music-mistress, and give lessons on the pianoforte and singing. By degrees, you will get a connection, and you will still be your own mistress.”
“And when you have nothing else to do, mademoiselle, you must make flowers in wax,” said Madame Gironac. “You make them so well, that I can always sell yours when I cannot my own.”
“I must not interfere with you, Elise,” said I; “that would be very ungrateful on my part.”
“Pooh—nonsense—there are customers enough for us both.”
I thought this advice to be very good, and made up my mind to follow it. I had not money sufficient to purchase a piano just then, as it would be five months before the half-year’s interest of the mortgage would be due; so I hired one from a dealer with whom Monsieur Gironac was intimate, and practised several hours every day. Fortune appeared inclined to favour me, for I obtained employment from four different channels.
The first and most important was this: I went every Sunday to the Catholic Chapel with Madame Gironac, and of course I joined in the singing. On the third Sunday as I was going out, I was touched on the arm by one of the priests, who requested to speak with me in the vestry. Madame Gironac and I followed him, and he requested us to sit down.
“Who have I the pleasure of addressing?” said he to me.
“Mademoiselle de Chatenoeuf, sir,” replied I.
“I am not aware of your circumstances, mademoiselle,” said he, “but the name is one well known in France. Still those who hold our best names are very often not in affluent circumstances in this country. I trust, let it be as it may, that you will not be offended, but the fact is, your singing has been much admired, and we would wish for your service, gratuitous, if you are in good circumstances, but well paid for, if you are not, in the choir.”
“Mademoiselle Chatenoeuf is not, I am sorry to say, in good circumstances, monsieur,” replied Madame Gironac.
“Then I will promise that she shall be well rewarded for her exertions, if she will consent to sing in the chapel—but do you consent?”
“I have no objection, sir,” replied I.
“Allow me, then, to call the gentleman who presides over the choir,” said the priest, going out.
“Accept by all means, Mademoiselle Valerie. It will be an introduction for you as a music-mistress, and very advantageous.”
“I agree with you,” replied I, “and I like singing sacred music.”
The priest returned with a gentleman, who told me that he had listened with great pleasure to my singing, and begged, as a favour, that I would sing him a solo, which he had brought with him.
As I could sing at sight, I did so. He was satisfied, and it was agreed that I should come on Saturday, at twelve, to practice with the rest of the choir. The following Sunday I sang with them, and also sang the solos. After the service was over, I received three guineas for my performance, and was informed that a similar sum would be given to me every Sunday on which I sang. My voice was much admired; and, when it was known that I gave lessons, I very soon had engagements from many Catholic families. My charges to them were moderate, five shillings a lesson of one hour.
The next channel was through Monsieur and Madame Gironac. He recommended me to a gentleman whom he taught, as a music-mistress for his sisters and daughters, and she to all her various customers and employers. I soon obtained several pupils by her exertions. The third was from an intimacy I had formed with an acquaintance of Madame Gironac, with a Mademoiselle Adèle Chabot, who was of a good French family, but earning her livelihood as a French teacher in one of the most fashionable schools in Kensington.
Through her recommendation, I obtained the teaching of the young ladies at the school, but of her more hereafter. The fourth channel was through the kindness of Mr Selwyn, the lawyer, to whom I shall now again revert. I had several visits from Mr Selwyn after I had left Baker Street, and on one of these he informed me, that upon the proofs of Lionel Dempster’s identity being examined by the legal advisers of Mr Dempster, of Yorkshire, they were considered so positive that the aforenamed gentleman immediately came to terms, agreeing to give up the property to Lionel, provided, in consequence of the great improvements he had made, he was not come upon for arrears of income arising from it. That Mr Selwyn advised this offer to be accepted, as it would prevent any exposure of Lady R—, and the circumstances under which Lionel had been brought up, from being made public. Lionel had written to say that he was anxious that any sacrifice should be made rather than the affair should be exposed; and the terms were consented to, and Lionel came into possession of further property, to the amount of 900 pounds per annum. As we became more intimate, Mr Selwyn asked me many particulars relative to myself, and, by his habit of cross-examining, soon gained the best portion of my history; only one point I did not mention to him,—that my family supposed that I was dead.