THE DUELLISTS.
When Lady Ravensworth descended to the breakfast parlour, she summoned
her husband's principal valet, Quentin, to her presence, and desired him
to hasten and inform his lordship that the morning meal was served up.
Quentin bowed and retired.
But both Lady Ravensworth and the valet were well aware that this was a
mere idle ceremonial which would only lead to the same ineffectual
result as on the six preceding mornings—indeed, ever since the arrival
of Lydia Hutchinson at the Hall. At the same time, the servant was very
far from suspecting how large a share the new lady's-maid enjoyed in the
relapse of his master and the increasing sorrows of his mistress.
In a few minutes Quentin returned.
"His lordship requests you, my lady, to excuse his absence," was the
message which he delivered—a message as formal as the one that had
evoked it.
"How is your lord this morning?" asked Adeline, with a profound sigh.
"His lordship does not appear to be improving, my lady," was the answer.
Adeline sighed once more, and remained silent.
The valet withdrew; and the unhappy lady endeavoured to eat a morsel of
food: but she had no appetite—her stomach seemed to loathe all solid
nourishment; and she pushed her plate from her.
She then endeavoured to while away an hour or two with the most recently
published novel and the morning's newspapers; but she found her
imagination ever wandering to other and sadly painful topics.
It was about mid-day, when, as she was standing listlessly at the
window, which commanded a view of the park, she suddenly caught sight of
a carriage that was advancing rapidly towards the mansion.
The livery of the servants belonging to it was unknown to her; and she
hastily summoned a domestic to instruct him that "she was not at home to
any visitors."
The vehicle drove up to the principal entrance of Ravensworth Hall; and
although the domestic delivered the answer commanded by his mistress, it
did not seem sufficient to cause the departure of the carriage.
There was some conversation between the servant who gave that answer and
the occupants of the vehicle;—but Lady Ravensworth could not overhear a
word that was said.
In a few minutes, however, the domestic returned to Adeline's presence.
"Please your ladyship," he said, "there is a gentleman below who has
just been dangerously wounded in a duel; and his companions earnestly
request——"
"I understand you," interrupted Lady Ravensworth. "This is quite another
consideration. You must admit them by all means."
The domestic once more hurried away; and Adeline shortly beheld, from
the window, two gentlemen alight from the carriage, and then carefully
remove a third, who appeared to be in a helpless condition. She did not,
however, catch a glimpse of either of their faces.
Lady Ravensworth now felt herself to be in a most unpleasant situation.
Her husband, she knew, would not come forth from his private cabinet to
do the honours of his mansion; and delicacy prevented her from hastening
to receive persons who might be total strangers to her, and who arrived
under such extraordinary circumstances.
She did not, however, long hesitate how to act. Ringing the bell, and
summoning Quentin to her presence, she said to him, "You must make a
fitting excuse for the non-appearance of Lord Ravensworth, and see that
the wounded gentleman be conveyed to a chamber. Then assure his friends
that they may command every thing they require in this house; and state
that I shall be happy to receive them in the drawing-room in half an
hour."
Quentin retired to execute this commission. He had the wounded man borne
to a bed-room, and offered to send a messenger on horseback to procure
medical assistance, from the nearest village; but one of the other two
gentlemen proved to be a surgeon, whose services had been engaged in the
usual manner by the duellists.
In the meantime, Lady Ravensworth repaired to her boudoir, to change her
dress.
She was immediately followed thither by Lydia Hutchinson.
"I do not require your attendance," said Adeline, with a visible
shudder, as the lady's-maid closed the door behind her.
"I care not for your wishes or aversions," returned Lydia. "Appearances
compel me to wait upon you—or to have the semblance of waiting upon
you;—and, moreover, I have something important to communicate. Oh! I
feel such pleasure in being the bearer of good news to _you_!"
"What new torture have you in store for me, horrible woman?" cried Lady
Ravensworth, affrighted by the malignant bitterness with which these
last words were uttered.
"Know you to whom your princely mansion has just afforded its
hospitality?" demanded Lydia.
"To a wounded duellist and his friends," replied Adeline. "Is _this_
circumstance to be in any way rendered available to your fearful
purposes of torture in respect to me?"
"And that wounded duellist and one of his companions are well known to
you," said Lydia, impressively.
"Known to me!" ejaculated Adeline, who felt convinced that some fresh
cause of anguish to herself lurked in the mysterious language of her
torturess.
"Oh! yes—known too well to yourself and to me also!" said Lydia, as if
shuddering with concentrated rage.
"Ah! my God—it would require but _that_ to drive me to desperation!"
exclaimed Adeline, a terrible suspicion darting across her mind.
"Then despair must be your lot," said Lydia, fixing her eyes with
malignant joy upon her mistress: "for—as sure as you are called Lady
Ravensworth—Lord Dunstable and Colonel Cholmondeley are inmates of this
mansion!"
"May God have mercy upon me!" murmured Adeline, in a low but solemn
tone.
And she sank almost insensible upon the sofa.
"Yes," continued the unrelenting Lydia, "_he_ to whom you gave your
honour, as one child might give a toy of little value to another—and
_he_ who stole my honour as a vile thief plunders the defenceless
traveller upon the highway,—those two men are beneath this roof! The
villain who ruined me and slew my brother, is now lying upon a bed from
which he may never more be removed save to the coffin. His second was
the gay seducer who rioted awhile upon your charms, and then threw you
aside,—yes, _you_—the daughter of one of England's proudest peers—as he
would a flower that had garnished his button-hole for an hour, and then
failed to please any longer. These two men are beneath your roof!"
"Oh! if my errors have been great, surely—surely my punishment is more
than commensurate!" murmured Adeline, in the bitterness of her heart.
"Your punishment seems only to have just begun," retorted Lydia, ever
ready to plunge a fresh dagger into the soul of the unhappy lady.
"My God! you speak but too truly!" ejaculated Adeline, clasping her
hands together. "Oh! that I could pass the latter half of my life over
again—oh! that I could recall the years that have fled!"
"The years that have fled have prepared a terrible doom for those that
are to come," said Lydia. "But hasten, my lady,—_this time_ I will aid
you to change your dress," she added sneeringly; "for I long to see your
meeting with Colonel Cholmondeley."
"_See_ our meeting!—_you!_" cried Lady Ravensworth, springing from the
sofa in alarm.
"Yes—I shall contrive that pleasure for myself," observed Lydia, calmly.
Adeline made no reply: she felt convinced that all remonstrance would be
useless.
She accordingly addressed herself to the toilet, Lydia assisting her in
that ceremony for the first time.
"I have chosen the attire that best becomes you—and I have arranged your
hair in the most attractive manner," said Lydia; "for I should be vexed
were you not to appear to advantage in the presence of him who made you
his mistress during pleasure."
"Wretch!" cried Adeline, turning sharply round upon Lydia, whose bitter
taunt touched the most sensitive fibre of her heart.
"If I be a wretch, it is you who made me so," said Lydia, with
imperturbable coolness.
Adeline bit her lips almost till the blood came, to suppress the rage
that rose as it were into her throat.
She then hastily left the boudoir, followed at a short distance by Lydia
Hutchinson.
Lady Ravensworth knew that her torturess was behind her,—knew also that
it was vain to reason with her in respect to any particular line of
conduct that she might choose to adopt.
[Illustration]
As the unhappy lady proceeded towards the drawing-room, she endeavoured
to compose both her countenance and her mind as much as possible: but
she felt herself blushing at one moment and turning pale the next,—now
with a face that seemed to be on fire—then with an icy coldness at the
heart.
Since she was at school at Belvidere House she had never met Colonel
Cholmondeley. He had been much abroad; and, when he was in London,
accident had so willed it that he did not once encounter the partner of
his temporary amour.
But that same chance was not for ever to be favourable to Adeline in
this respect; and now she was at length about to meet that man of all
the species in whose presence she had most cause to blush.
Such an encounter was however necessary, for the sake of appearances.
What would her servants think if she remained in the solitude of her own
chamber while visitors were at the mansion? what would the surgeon, who
attended the wounded duellist, conjecture if she refused the common
courtesy which became the mistress of the mansion? The total retirement
of Lord Ravensworth was already a sufficient reason to provoke strange
surmises on the part of the newly-arrived guests, although the existence
of his extraordinary and unaccountable malady was well known in the
fashionable world: but if to that fact were superadded the circumstance
of a similar seclusion on the part of Lady Ravensworth, the most
unpleasant rumours might arise. Thus was Adeline imperatively forced to
do the honours of her house on this occasion.
And now she has reached the door of the drawing-room.
She pauses for a moment: how violently beats her heart!
"This is foolish!" she murmurs to herself: "the ordeal must be
passed;—better to enter upon it at once!"
And she entered the drawing-room.
One only of the guests was there; and he had his back towards the door
at the moment.
But full well did she recognise that tall, graceful, and well-knit
frame.
The sound of light footsteps upon the thick carpet caused him to turn
hastily round;—and then Adeline and her seducer were face to face.
"Lady Ravensworth," said the Colonel, rather averting his glance as he
spoke—for he experienced the full embarrassment of this
encounter,—"necessity, and not my wish, has compelled me to intrude upon
your hospitality. My friend Lord Dunstable and another officer in the
same regiment had an altercation last evening, which would permit of
none other than a hostile settlement. The choice of time and place, fell
by the laws of honour, to Lord Dunstable's opponent; and the vicinity of
your abode was unfortunately fixed upon as the spot for meeting. My
friend was grievously wounded with the first shot; and I had no
alternative but to convey him to the nearest habitation where
hospitality might be hoped for. Your ladyship can now understand the
nature of that combination of circumstances which has brought me
hither."
"I deeply regret that Lord Ravensworth should be too much indisposed to
do the honours of his house in person," said Adeline, with her eyes
fixed upon the ground, and a deep blush upon her cheeks. "Is your
friend's wound dangerous?"
"Mr. Graham, a surgeon of known skill, is now with him," answered the
Colonel; "and entertains great hopes of being enabled to extract the
ball, which has lodged in the right side. It is true that I incur some
risk by remaining in the neighbourhood of the metropolis; but I cannot
consent to abandon my friend until I am convinced that he is beyond
danger."
"_It is the fashion in the aristocratic world to adhere to a friend, but
to abandon the seduced girl when she no longer pleases_," said Lydia
Hutchinson, who had entered the room unperceived by either Colonel
Cholmondeley or Lady Ravensworth, and who now advanced slowly towards
them.
The Colonel stared at Lydia for a few moments: but evidently not
recognising her, he turned a rapid glance of inquiry upon Adeline, who
only hung down her head, and remained silent.
"I see that you do not know me, sir," continued Lydia, approaching close
to Colonel Cholmondeley: then, fixing her eyes intently upon him, she
said, "Do you remember me now?"
"My good young woman," replied the Colonel, with a mixture of hauteur
and bantering jocularity, "I really do not think that you have served in
any family which I have had the honour to visit: and, even if you had, I
must candidly confess that my memory is not capacious enough to retain
the image of every lady's-maid whom I may happen to see."
"And yet it is not every lady's-maid," said Lydia, with a scornful
glance towards Adeline, who, pale and trembling, had sunk upon a
seat,—"it is not every lady's-maid that can venture to talk thus
openly—thus familiarly in the presence of her mistress."
While she was yet speaking, a light broke upon the Colonel's mind. Who
but one acquainted with Lady Ravensworth's secret could be capable of
such extraordinary conduct? This idea led him to survey Lydia
Hutchinson's countenance more attentively than before;—and, although it
was much altered,—although it no longer bore the blooming freshness
which had characterised it when he first knew her,—still the expression
and the features enabled him to recognise the young woman who had become
the victim of his friend Lord Dunstable.
"Ah! you know me now," continued Lydia, perceiving by a sudden gesture
on the part of the Colonel that he _had_ at length remembered her.
"Think you that I have no reproaches to hurl at you, sir? Was it not at
your house that my ruin was consummated? and were you no party to the
infamous treachery which gave me to the arms of your friend? But you
have no shame:—you are a fashionable gentleman—a _roué_—one who
considers seduction an aristocratic amusement, as well as wrenching off
knockers or breaking policemen's heads. What to such as you are the
tears of deceived and lost girls? what to you are the broken hearts of
fond parents? Nothing—nothing: I know it well! And therefore it were
vain for me to say another word—unless it be that I shall now leave you
to make your peace as best you may with your cast-off mistress _there_!"
And pointing disdainfully at Adeline, who uttered a low scream and
covered her face with her hands as those terrible words fell upon her
ears, Lydia slowly quitted the room.
Frightfully painful was now the situation of Lady Ravensworth and
Colonel Cholmondeley.
The former was crushed by the terrible indignity cast upon her: the
latter was so astounded and at the same time so hurt by all that had
just occurred, that he knew not how to act.
He felt that any attempt to console Lady Ravensworth would be an insult;
and yet he experienced an equal inability to permit the scene to pass
without some comment.
Fortunately for them both, Mr. Graham, the surgeon, entered the room at
this juncture.
Adeline composed herself by one of those extraordinary efforts which she
had lately been so often compelled to exert; and Cholmondeley, with the
case of a man of fashion (who must necessarily be a thorough hypocrite),
instantly assumed a manner that would even have disarmed suspicion, had
any been excited.
Having uttered a few ceremonial phrases upon his introduction to Lady
Ravensworth, Mr. Graham said, "I am happy to state that Lord Dunstable
is in as favourable a state as under the circumstances could be
expected. I have succeeded in extracting the ball—and he now sleeps."
"Thank God!" exclaimed Cholmondeley,—not with any real piety, but merely
using that common phrase as expressive of his joy to think that the
matter was not more serious than it now appeared to be.
"I am, however, afraid," continued the surgeon, turning towards Adeline,
"that my patient will be compelled to trespass for some few days upon
the kind hospitality of your ladyship."
"In which case Lord Dunstable shall receive every attention that can be
here afforded him," observed Adeline. "It would be but an idle
compliment to you, sir, under the circumstances, to say that Ravensworth
Hall will be honoured by your presence so long as you may see fit to
make it your abode."
The surgeon bowed in acknowledgment of this courteous intimation.
"For my part," Colonel Cholmondeley hastened to say, "I shall not
trespass upon her ladyship's hospitality; for—since I am assured that my
friend is no longer in danger—I must attend to certain pressing business
which calls me elsewhere."
Adeline threw a glance of gratitude upon the Colonel for this expression
of his intention to relieve her from the embarrassment of his presence;
and accordingly, after partaking of some luncheon, Cholmondeley took his
departure.
But ere he left, Lydia Hutchinson had secretly placed a letter,
containing a key, upon the seat of the carriage which bore him away.