ET TU BRUTE!
On the morning succeeding the day on which Mr. Schröder died, Mr.
Simnel sat in his room in the Tin-Tax Office, deep in a reverie. The
newspaper lay on the floor at his feet; he was slowly rubbing the knee
from which it had just fallen, and his other hand supported his chin.
The news had come upon him suddenly; and he was calmly thinking to
what results the occurrence might tend. Had he been at his club the
night before, he would have heard the whisper which, thanks to Dr.
Prater, was then permeating the West End; but on his return from Kate
Mellon's, Mr. Simnel had quietly dined in his own rooms, and there
remained for the rest of the evening, arranging his plans. Thus the
first intimation which he had received of the event was from the
columns of the newspaper then lying at his feet; in which a paragraph
headed "Sudden death of a City-merchant" had speedily claimed his
attention. Matters of weighty importance had Mr. Simnel to filter
through his mind in the course of that reverie. He was a
worldly-minded man, but by no means a bad man at heart; and the fact of
the rich man's death at that particular time struck him as specially
touching and softening. The newspaper described the anguish of the
dead man's widow as "inexpressible;" and though Simnel, from his
experience, was not inclined to lay much stress on the exactness of
that statement, yet he felt that in all probability the little woman
of whom he had heard so much, would probably be very much distressed.
From all he had learned, he believed that of late the relations
between her and her husband had been very much deepened and
strengthened. He guessed somewhat of this from the fact that Beresford
had been more than infrequent and shy in his allusions to that
_ménage_, and to the pursuit he was engaged in in that quarter.
Beresford? By Jove! then his chance was come much sooner than either
of them had anticipated! the great obstacle was removed, and he had
the course clear before him. No, not exactly clear; the manner of her
husband's death, the suddenness of it, would create a great revulsion
in Mrs. Schröder's mind, and greatly imperil Mr. Beresford's chances,
however strong they might be. Whether they were strong or not was a
matter of doubt in Mr. Simnel's mind; he had a great contempt for
Beresford's word, knowing him to be possessed of a happy inability to
speak truth; and sometimes he doubted whether his colleague had really
made any play worth mentioning at the house in Saxe-Coburg Square.
Then Mr. Simnel began rubbing his knee more violently than ever, as he
thought that the whole affair from first to last was very
disreputable, and one which redounded to the credit of no one engaged
in it. Would it not be better to drop Mr. Beresford altogether, and
leave him to fight his own way in the matter? It certainly would be
more honourable and satisfactory in every way; but then--why then, if
Mr. Beresford did not marry some rich woman (and Mrs. Schröder was his
best chance), he would go to the dogs; and then what would become of
his, Simnel's, eight hundred and twenty five pounds? Worse still, if
Beresford did not succeed with Mrs. Schröder, he might suddenly veer
round, and on the impulse of the moment, and under the pressure of
creditors, go up and declare for Kate Mellon's hand. And Simnel was by
no means certain that that young woman would decline such an offer,
even after all that had occurred; on the contrary, being naturally
suspicious, and on the present occasion jealous and in love, the
thought sent such a twinge through him, that he shrugged his
shoulders, and made up his mind that things must take their course.
As he sat there, rubbing his leg much more calmly after arriving at
this determination, the door opened, and Mr. Beresford entered the
room. He nodded airily, and, pointing to the newspaper on the floor,
said, "You've seen it, of course? That chattering doctor-fellow was
right, you see. What do you think of it?"
"Of it? of what? of Mr. Schröder's death, do you mean? I think it a
very sad thing."
"The devil you do!" said Mr. Beresford with a sneering laugh; "the
door's shut, Simnel; don't you think you'd better drop that innocence
when you and I tire alone together?"
He was a cur, this man, and instinctively a cad; he had been as
miserable as possible for weeks; but he thought he saw the breaking-up
of the dark clouds now, and immediately began to swagger and hector on
the strength of it.
"Be good enough to understand, Mr. Beresford, that that is language
which I don't permit _any body_ to use to me!" said Simnel, through
his shut teeth, and with a very white face; "I repeat that I think Mr.
Schröder's death a very sad thing. Why do you choose to sneer when I
say so?"
"No, no, not sneer: hang it, old fellow! you take one up so infernally
sharp. Bad thing, of course it is, for him, poor devil; but good thing
for me; and as you know rather more of me than you did of him, I
fancied I should have had your congratulations."
"Oh, I see," said Simnel; "you fancy you ought to have received my
congratulations: on what, may I ask?"
"Look here, Simnel!" said Beresford, turning savagely round; "drop
this infernal nonsense; it doesn't do here, and it's ill-timed. Don't
come the _non-mi-ricorde_ business, after having been arch-conspirator
and suggested every thing. Plainly, the death of this unfortunate man
is in my favour, because he was the principal obstacle in my way to
the success of our scheme; and he is removed."
"Well; looking at it in that way--"
"In that way! in what other way would you look at it? It's in a
remarkably _£ s.d_. kind of way that it presents itself to me, I can
tell you. I don't mind mentioning now, Simnel, what I shouldn't have
let on otherwise; that I'm tremendously dipped; in for--ay, I daresay,
three thousand more than you know any thing about; and here's the
chance come just in the nick of time."
"Where did you get in for this? and where did you get the money?"
"Get in for it? Doncaster, the Cæsarewitch, the Cambridgeshire! each
infernal thing went to the bad. I stood a cracker on the first; then
tried a pull through with the other two; and was all wrong with the
lot. Scadgers, Parkinson, and a new man, Barnett, of Stamford Street,
over the water, did the advances; but I should have looked very blue,
if this hadn't come off, I can tell you."
"You're a little sanguine, are you not? It _hasn't_ come off yet, has
it?"
"What a wet blanket you are, Simnel! No, of course not. Indeed there's
been a strong element of virtue and duty, and all that sort of thing,
introduced of late. But now there's no necessity for that. The actual
fancy and liking always existed, I flatter myself; and now all that
can be indulged in without the slightest suspicion of vice."
"To be sure, to be sure," muttered Mr. Simnel, ruminating; "you'll
have to proceed very cautiously; but that you'll of course
understand." Mr. Beresford, by this time half way to the door, nodded
his head and went out.
Some few days afterwards Mr. Simnel was again honoured by a visit in
his room from the Commissioner. The latter gentleman looked worn and
tired; he threw himself into a chair and began beating his boot with
his cane, and seemed altogether out of sorts. Mr. Simnel noticed all
this, and was tolerably prepared for what was coming. "What's the
matter, sir?" he asked quietly; "have you had too many papers to sign;
or are you annoyed at having to come down to this plebeian part of the
town so early as two o'clock; or haven't you had your lunch; or what
is it?"
"Don't chaff Simnel; I'm not in the humour for chaff just now. I'm
afraid I'm getting into a hole at last."
"What's the matter now?"
"Oh, these infernal fellows are putting on the screw--lawyer's
letters, writs, and all that rascally machinery; and I don't see a
chance of staving them off. If I could have said any thing about a
rich marriage now--"
"That's exactly what I was coming to. How about Saxe-Coburg Square?"
"Well, fishy, very fishy. I've called there three times; the last time
sending in specially and particularly to say that I wanted to speak to
her; and still the same answer--compliments--not kind regards, you
know--compliments, and utterly unable to see me. No hint of a future
opportunity--nothing!"
"That looks badly, certainly. What do you intend to do?"
"Do! Go there again. Have it out by hook or by crook. By Jove, I will
see her! I'll remind her that--"
"Doesn't this strike you as devilish low behaviour? Don't you see that
to thrust yourself in where you are evidently not wanted, to break in
upon the privacy of a lady, who is in the beginning of her first great
sorrow--"
"Oh, drop that, please. Doesn't it strike you that I owe you nearly
nine hundred pounds, and other people a great deal more; and that if
they're not paid, I shall be arrested and sold up? And don't you see,
therefore, that I _must_--No, by Jove! I don't see why I should;
you're quite right; it is an ungentlemanly business, and I'm sick of
all this dodging and duffing and forcing myself down the throat of a
woman whose liking for me seems to have gone off. But there's one who
would still seem to care about me, Simnel, my boy, I'll wager any
money; and one whom I've been a fool not to think of before--Kate
Mellon!"
385
"Kate Mellon?" echoed Mr. Simnel with scowling brows.
"Yes, Kate Mellon! She's got ready-money enough to pay off all my
ticks and set me square; and then I could keep square. I'm sure she'd
forget all that stupid business of which I told you; though I've never
seen her since. I could put that right in a minute; and--"
"I don't think it would do," said Mr. Simnel earnestly--"I don't think
it would do. Miss Mellon's status in society would be fatal to all
your hopes of advancement. Your aunt Lady Lowndes and the bishop would
cut you dead; and remember," added he, after a pause, and with an
attempt at a smile, very ghastly and gummy and forced, "I am
interested in this matter to the extent of eight hundred pounds, and I
don't think it would do. I'm disposed to recommend you to hold to the
other, which appears to me to want only a little patience, and--if I
understand from you the security of your position--an undoubted
declaration to bring to a favourable issue."
"And what would you advise?"
"A letter. I will draft you what I should suggest; and if you approve,
you can copy it, or embody it in any thing else you have to say to
Mrs. Schröder;" and Mr. Simnel sat down at once at his desk and began
to write. Mr. Beresford sat watching him the while. Not a change in
Simnel's face, not an inflexion of his voice, had escaped him; and he
wondered what it all meant, and in what Kate Mellon's fortunes could
have influence over the impassible secretary of the Tin-Tax Office.
Two days after this interview, Mr. Beresford called in Saxe-Coburg
Square and sent up his card, requesting an interview with Mrs.
Schröder. The usual message of excuse being returned to him, he gave
the servant a letter which he had brought with him, and begged that
the man would take it to his mistress; he would await the answer. Mrs.
Schröder, seated in her boudoir, read the note, seemed greatly
disturbed, told the man that she would send an answer downstairs by
her maid, and immediately rushed off to the adjacent bedroom, where
Barbara Churchill was lamenting all that had happened, and wondering
what was to be the end of her life.
"O Barbara, Barbara darling, what shall I do?" exclaimed the poor
little woman; "here is Mr. Beresford come again, and he wanted to see
me, and I said no, as we had determined, and then he sent me up this
dreadful letter! Oh, what shall I say to him, dear? oh, do help me,
there's a darling."
Barbara took the letter from Alice's shaking hand and read it. It was
not a pleasing composition; it began in an injured tone, and then grew
mysterious, and then almost threatening. The writer demanded an
interview, and justified his demand by referring to certain bygone
circumstances which the reader would readily remember; and the whole
tone was sentimentally prurient and offensive and objectionable in the
highest degree. Poor little Alice had not seen any thing of this kind
in it; she had merely found it "horrid" and "impertinent;" but
Barbara's cheek flamed as she perused it, and the tone of her voice
was rather sharp as she said, "Is the man still here, Alice?"
"What man, dear? Mr. Beresford?"
"Of course!--is there any other? Oh, he is here. Very well, then,
leave me this letter, and I will go down and speak to him about it."
"You'll see him, Barbara?"
"Yes," said Barbara, who was already opening her desk and looking for
something therein. "It will be the best way. You'll find he won't
trouble you any more." She kissed Alice at the door, and walking down
stairs and into the drawing-room, confronted Mr. Beresford.
That gentleman was seated near the window with book of photographs, at
which he was not looking, in his hand. He rose as he heard the door
open, and advanced rapidly when he saw the female figure: the room was
somewhat darkened by heavy curtains, and he could not clearly make out
who it was. When Barbara, stopping, pulled herself to her fall height,
he stopped, too, disappointed; he expected some one far less majestic.
"You wished to see Mrs. Schröder, I believe, Mr. Beresford," said
Barbara, after the first salutation: "I come as her representative."
"I am very sensible of the honour you do me, Mrs. Churchill," replied
Beresford; "but I fear that no representative will do. I want to speak
to Mrs. Schröder herself."
"That is impossible," said Barbara, calmly.
"Impossible is a very strong word, Mrs. Churchill. I sent Mrs.
Schröder a letter--"
"Oh, yes, here it is; it is about this letter that I have come to you.
You'll sit, Mr. Beresford, please; for this is likely to be a
prolonged talk. Now you know that I am Mrs. Schröder's oldest and most
intimate friend, and as such I am deputed to answer this letter."
"Pardon me, I have no grounds for believing the latter part--"
"Except my word; and you won't doubt that? No! I thought not! Now, Mr.
Beresford, I am about to speak very plainly to you, always relying on
you as a gentleman. Mrs. Schröder is very young, and rather
thoughtless and not too much gifted with brains. Since you have been
acquainted with her, both before and after marriage, you have paid her
small attentions, such as no woman dislikes. They were attentions such
as the rigidly-censorious might shake their heads at; but which no
woman, knowing her own rectitude and conscious of the proper
understanding existing between her husband and herself, need have been
afraid of. But the case is altered now! Poor Alice is unfortunately
in the position of having no husband as her guide and safeguard,
and--these attentions must cease!"
"You speak as Mrs. Schröder's mouthpiece, Mrs. Churchill?"
"Precisely! In this letter which I have here, there is a tone which I
am sure you did not intend to convey; but about which it is my duty to
speak to you plainly. Under present circumstances Mrs. Schröder feels
it necessary to limit her knowledge of you to that of the merest
acquaintance. There is no other footing on which you can know each
other. If you were not what I know you to be, a gentleman, I should
point out that there is not, nor ever has been, any thing between you
which could lead you to any other supposition--no letters, no any
thing which ill-natured persons could lay hold of--you follow me?"
"Ye-es, ye-es!" said Beresford, feeling that he was outwitted.
"That is right--so, as you are a gentleman, I don't mind telling you
the urgent necessity for the adoption of this course. Notwithstanding
the absence of any such evidence as I have spoken of, the world has
chosen to talk."
"Ah, ah!" said Mr. Beresford, with a smile of returning satisfaction.
"Yes, in its usual base and unfounded manner. Here is an anonymous
letter which was addressed to the late Mr. Schröder."
"Let me look at it!" said Beresford, eagerly.
"It is here;" and Barbara handed to him the paper picked off the
library-floor by Dr. Prater.
Mr. Beresford took the letter from her hand. The instant his eye fell
on the handwriting, Barbara, who was looking at him steadfastly, saw
his colour change and his hand shake. But he read it through without
saying a word, and returned it to her with a bow.
"You will see now, Mr. Beresford, the utter impossibility of Mrs.
Schröder's permitting her acquaintance with you to continue," said
Barbara. "You will see that the note which you addressed to her can
have no answer but that which I have already given you; and that
henceforth, as a gentleman, you are bound in honour not to--"
"Of course! of course!" replied Beresford; "it is of the other letter
I am thinking now." And he set his teeth and struck his ungloved hand
violently with his cane. "You have introduced a new element into the
discussion, Mrs. Churchill, and you must pardon me if I close it here.
What my future course may be, circumstances must determine: I make no
promise, as I make no threats; but--"
"We will close the discussion at once, sir, if you please!" said
Barbara, haughtily.
"At once," said Beresford, with a bow. "Believe me that the advocacy
of that anonymous person--whose handwriting I recognise--though useful
perhaps, as time may prove--is by no means flattering."
He bowed again and left the room. "By no means flattering!" echoed
Barbara after he had gone; "it is, then, as I suspected, some horrible
wretch who has east this shadow over my life!"