It might be thought that I was too hard on my Lord Blackadder, but
only those few indeed who were unacquainted with the circumstances of
his divorce would find fault with me. The scandal was quite recent,
and the Blackadder case had been in everybody's mouth. The papers had
been full of it, and the proceedings were not altogether to his
lordship's credit. They had been instituted by him, however, on
grounds that induced the jury to give him a verdict, and the judge had
pronounced a decree nisi on the evidence as it stood.
Yet the public sympathies were generally with the respondent, the
Countess of Blackadder. It had been an unhappy marriage, an
ill-assorted match, mercenary, of mere convenience, forced upon an
innocent and rather weak girl by careless and callous guardians, eager
to rid themselves of responsibility for the two twin sisters, Ladies
Claire and Henriette Standish, orphans, and with no near relations.
Lord Blackadder was immensely rich, but a man of indifferent moral
character, a _roué_ and a voluptuary, with a debilitated constitution
and an unattractive person, possessing none of the gifts that take a
maiden's fancy.
Estrangement soon followed the birth of the son and heir to his title
and great estates. My lord was a great deal older than his beautiful
young wife, and desperately jealous of her. Distrust grew into strong
suspicion, and presently consumed him when an old flame of Lady
Henriette's, Charlie Forrester, of the Dark Horse, turned up from
foreign service, and their names came to be bracketed together by the
senseless gossiping busybodies ever ready to tear a pretty woman's
reputation to tatters. It was so much put about, so constantly dinned
into Lord Blackadder's ears, that he was goaded into a perfect fury,
and was at length determined, by hook or by crook, to put away his
wife, leaving it to certain astute and well-practised solicitors to
manufacture a clear, solid case against her.
Lady Blackadder, who hated and despised her lord, foolishly played
into his hands. She never really went wrong, so her friends stoutly
averred, especially her sister Claire, a staunch and loyal soul, but
she gave a handle to innuendo, and more than once allowed appearances
to go against her.
There was one very awkward story that could not be disproved as it was
told, and in the upshot convicted her. It was clearly shown in
evidence that she had made up her mind to leave Lord Blackadder; more,
that she meant to elope with Major Forrester. It was said, but not so
positively, that she had met him at Victoria Station; they were seen
there together, had travelled by the same train, and there was a
strong presumption that they had arrived together at Brighton; one or
two railway officials deposed to the fact.
Lady Blackadder denied this entirely, and gave a very different
complexion to the story. She had gone to Brighton; yes, but quite
alone. Major Forrester had seen her off, no doubt, but they had parted
at the carriage door. Her visit to Brighton had been for the purpose
of seeing and staying with an old servant, once a very confidential
maid for whom she had a great liking, and had often taken refuge with
when worried and in trouble. She thought, perhaps, to make this the
first stage in the rupture with my lord.
This maid had earnestly adjured her not to break with her husband, and
to return to Grosvenor Square.
This flight was the head and corner-stone of Lady Blackadder's
offending. It was interpreted into guilt of the most heinous kind; the
evidence in support of it seemed overwhelming. Witnesses swore
positively to the companionship of Major Forrester, both at Victoria
and Brighton, and it was to be fairly assumed that they were at the
latter place together.
No rebutting evidence was forthcoming. The maid, a woman married to an
ex-French or Swiss courier, by name Bruel, could not be produced,
simply because she could not be found in Brighton. They were supposed
to be settled there as lodging-house keepers, but they had not resided
long enough to be in the Directory, and their address was not known.
Lord Blackadder's case was that they were pure myths, they had never
had any tangible existence, but were only imported into the case to
support an ingenious but untenable defence.
It was more than hinted that they had been spirited away, and they
were not the first material witnesses, it was hinted, in an intricate
case, conducted by Messrs. Gadecker and Gobye, who had mysteriously
disappeared. So the plausible, nay, completely satisfactory
explanation of Lady Blackadder's visit to Brighton could not be put
forward, much less established, and there was no sort of hope for her.
She lost her case in the absence of the Bruels, man and wife. The
verdict was for Lord Blackadder, and he was adjudged to have the care
and custody of the child, the infant Viscount Aspdale.
I had not the smallest doubt when I realized with whom I had to do
that the unhappy mother had made a desperate effort to redress her
wrongs, as she thought them, and had somehow contrived to carry off
her baby before she could be deprived of it.
I had met her in full flight upon the Engadine express.
What next? Was she to be overtaken and despoiled, legally, of course,
but still cruelly, separated from her own flesh and blood? The Court
might order such an unnatural proceeding, but I was moved by every
chivalrous impulse to give her my unstinting and unhesitating support
to counteract it.
I was full of these thoughts, and still firmly resolved to help Lady
Blackadder, when l'Echelle, the conductor whose services I still
retained, sought me out hurriedly, and told me that he believed the
others were on the point of leaving Brieg.
"I saw Falfani and milord poring over the pages of the _Indicateur_,
and heard the word Geneva dropped in a whisper. I think they mean to
take the next train along the lake shore."
"Not a doubt of it," I assented; "so will we. They must not be allowed
to go beyond our reach."
When the 6.57 P.M. for Geneva was due out from Brieg, we,
l'Echelle and I, appeared on the platform, and our intention to travel
by it was made plain to Lord Blackadder. The effect upon him was
painfully manifest at once. He chafed, he raged up and down, grimacing
and apostrophizing Falfani; once or twice he approached me with
clenched fists, and I really thought would have struck me at last.
Seeing me enter the same carriage with him, with the obvious intention
of keeping him under my eye, he threw himself back among the cushions
and yielded himself with the worst grace to the inevitable.
The railway journey was horribly slow, and it must have been past 11
P.M. before we reached Geneva. We alighted in the Cornavin
station, and as they moved at once towards the exit I followed. I
expected them to take a carriage and drive off, and was prepared to
give chase, when I found they started on foot, evidently to some
destination close at hand. It proved to be the Cornavin Hôtel, not a
stone's-throw from the station.
They entered, and went straight to the bureau, where the night clerk
was at his desk. I heard them ask for a person named Tiler, and
without consulting his books the clerk replied angrily:
"Tiler! Tiler! _Ma foi_, he is of no account, your Tiler. He has gone
off from the dinner-table and without paying his bill."
"That shall be made all right," replied Lord Blackadder loftily, as he
detailed his name and quality, before which the employé bowed low.
"And might I ask," his lordship went on, "whether a certain Mrs.
Blair, a lady with her child and its nurse, is staying in the hotel?"
"But certainly, milord. They have been here some days. Salon and suite
No. 17."
"At any rate, that's well, Falfani," said Lord Blackadder, with a sigh
of satisfaction. "But what of your friend Tiler? Thick-headed dolt,
unable to keep awake, I suppose."
At that moment a shabbily dressed person approached Falfani, touched
his hat, and offered him a note, saying:
"This must be for you, monsieur. I heard your name--"
"From Tiler, my lord, aha! This explains." And he passed the scrap of
paper on to his employer.
"I'll be hanged if I see it! He says the parties have gone, and that
he is in close attendance; yet this fellow here," pointing to the
clerk, "assures us she is in this very house. I don't understand it,
by Gad!"
"There is some fresh trick, my lord, you may be sure. The devil
himself isn't half so clever as this fine lady. But we'll get at the
bottom of it. We shall hear more from Tiler, and we've got the lady
here, under our hand."
"Ah! but have we? This chap's as likely as not to be mistaken. How do
you know, sir," to the clerk, "that Mrs. Blair is still in the hotel?
When did you come on duty? What if she left without your knowing it?"
"It could not be, milord. See, it is marked in the register. No. 17 is
occupied. I could not let it. Mrs. Blair holds it still."
"But she may not be in it, all the same. Can't you see? She may retain
it, but not use it."
"Look, my lord, look, there's one of her party, anyway," interposed
Falfani, and he called his attention to a female figure standing a
little aloof in the shadow of the staircase, and which I had already
recognized.
It was Philpotts, "Mrs. Blair's" maid, and she was trying to attract
my attention. Lord Blackadder had not seen her, and now his eye, for
the first time, fell upon me. He turned on me furiously.
"You! You! Still at my heels? This is perfectly monstrous. It amounts
to persecution. You still dare to intrude yourself. Can I have no
privacy? Take yourself off, or I will not answer for the
consequences."
I confess I only laughed and still held my ground, although my lord's
outcry had attracted much attention. Several people ran up, and they
might have sided against me, when I heard a voice whisper into my ear:
"Come, sir, come. Slip away. My lady is dying to see you. She is
terribly upset."