DANGERS AHEAD.
‘Matilda,’ said Bertha Belassis, ‘don’t you think it rather odd that
Sir Herbert Moncrieff was so sure that Phil was Mr. Torwood?’
‘Was he so sure? I fancied he had only made a mistake. Philip didn’t
seem to think it so very odd. I suppose they have been mistaken for one
another before.’
‘Yes; but he spoke of it again to me afterwards; and did I tell you
about Maud?’
‘No. What?’
‘I don’t think I thought of it at the time particularly; but
afterwards, turning it over in my mind, I couldn’t help thinking it
rather strange.’
‘What?’ questioned Matilda impatiently. ‘I don’t know what you’re
talking about.’
‘Well, I’m just going to tell you. We were walking about the grounds,
Sir Herbert and I (he really was very attentive to me, Matilda!), when
we came across Maud, talking and laughing with some fellow, and looking
quite pretty and animated. I noticed Sir Herbert looked at her rather
hard, and, when we had passed, he said: “I think I cannot be mistaken
in identifying that lady as Miss Torwood? She is so like her brother.”
I stared at him, and said: “That is my cousin, Maud Debenham; but I do
not think she is at all like Philip.” He looked quite flustered and
puzzled for a bit, and said slowly: “Let me think; I can’t make it
out. That lady is exceedingly like a man whom I believed to be Philip
Debenham, and she _is_ Miss Debenham! But the man is not a Debenham
at all, but Torwood—I had confused the two fellows. Odd coincidence,
isn’t it?” He laughed, and then passed the matter off, as though he
had been surprised into saying something rather strange, and wanted it
forgotten. I didn’t trouble my head about it at the time. It didn’t
seem to me to matter much, if Maud did happen to be rather like Mr.
Torwood. But when one comes to think over it all, it does seem rather
odd, doesn’t it? Everyone says Phil isn’t a bit like a Debenham.’
‘Goodness gracious, Bertha! don’t go putting notions into people’s
heads!’ cried Matilda, in some alarm. ‘It can’t be anything but Sir
Herbert’s stupidity—or, perhaps, some spite against poor Phil. It would
be very awkward for him to have such things said of him; and papa and
mamma would be simply offensive if they could get hold of anything and
trump up a story. Mamma would be delighted to try and make out that
Phil wasn’t Phil at all, but an impostor. There’s nothing too nasty for
her to say or do when she’s disagreeable, which she mostly is now.’
‘Good gracious, Matilda! you’re out-Heroding Herod, talking about
impostors. Why, how could Phil be that? He’s got everything, and knows
everything needful to identify him! Of course he’s Phil! How could
he be anybody else? But, of course, I shan’t say a word to Mamma or
anybody. If she were to get hold of such an idea, there would be no
peace for anyone. And I’m sure nobody could be kinder or nicer than
Phil; and whoever he is, we don’t want him changed for anybody else.’
An odd sort of fancy was suggesting itself to the minds of both girls;
but they did not choose to give it words even to themselves. Neither
of them had relinquished the hope of becoming the mistress of the
Manor, and Tor’s pleasant, flattering, cousinly air kept him a prime
favourite with both sisters. At the present moment, neither would have
moved hand or foot, if by so doing any annoyance could fall upon him;
but if jealousy or dislike should be stirred up in either heart, it was
altogether uncertain how any secret might be preserved.
‘It couldn’t possibly be, you know,’ said Bertha, with a laugh, not
specifying what the ‘it’ might be. ‘It’s not possible, of course. But
it will be fun to tease Phil about it, just to see what he says.’
‘I’d advise you not to say anything at all about it,’ said Matilda.
‘You’ll only annoy him.’
‘Nonsense! Phil and I are capital friends. He likes fun as much as I
do.’
‘Well, do as you like,’ returned Matilda, thinking to herself that if
Bertha chose to go and spoil her own chances, it might not be such a
bad thing for somebody else.
‘Yes, I mean to. I like chaffing Phil, and he likes it too.’
Bertha, on her part, was thinking that she might do worse than have
a secret with her handsome cousin, for he could not but perceive the
awkwardness of Sir Herbert Moncrieff’s suggestion; and if—— But not
even to herself did the girl complete that train of thought.
The next time she had her cousin to herself, she put her threat into
execution.
‘Phil,’ she began, looking up at him archly, ‘don’t you think that was
a very odd mistake of Sir Herbert Moncrieff’s the other day?’
‘What mistake? Taking me for Torwood? Well, yes—rather, perhaps. It
all comes of that lazy beggar Tor giving me all the work to do, whilst
everything went down in his name, as he had the money, you know.’
‘Oh, I see,’ said Bertha, her half-formed theory fading a little before
his quiet nonchalance. ‘You used always to act for him, did you?’
‘Well, yes, mostly. He’s a lazy beggar, as I said before, and was
ready to let anybody and everybody cheat him. So I generally made
the bargains, and wrote the orders, and signed everything “Torwood;”
so naturally I got taken for him, and then Tor would say: “Oh, don’t
bother to undeceive them, or they’ll all come pestering me. Let me be
Phil Debenham, insignificant and dependent.” Of course the old chap had
to have his own way.’
Tor’s voice expressed a quiet amusement and an obvious mimicry which
was irresistible. Bertha laughed, and felt her suspicions vanishing.
‘I wonder, then, what made Sir Herbert think Maud so very like Mr.
Torwood—the one he had always thought Phil Debenham, you know.’
‘Did he think that?’ asked Tor lazily.
‘Yes. Are they alike really?’
‘Tor and Maud alike,’ said Tor slowly and reflectively. ‘I don’t know
that it ever struck me; but some people have a faculty for seeing
likenesses; I don’t think I possess it. Let me see: well, perhaps there
is a sort of similarity in style, hair and eyes the same colour, and
he has rather that oval-shaped face of hers; but I think the likeness
begins and ends there. I think Maud is uncommonly good-looking, and
Tor never set up for being a beauty. Well, when he comes over here
on a visit, we will put them together and see if there is a visible
likeness. I rather imagine it exists only in Sir Herbert Moncrieff’s
imagination.’
Tor spoke with such frank and easy coolness that Bertha was disarmed.
Her confidence in her own penetration convinced her that she should
have detected him at once, had he been the least bit startled or
embarrassed, and he had not evinced the faintest sign of being the one
or the other.
One more attempt did she make to force his confidence.
‘Of course I don’t mean to say anything of this to anybody, Phil.’
‘Why not?’
Bertha gave her head an expressive shake.
‘I thought it might be awkward for you.’
Tor laughed in his mirthful way.
‘Why on earth? I think it’s rather a good joke. How could it be awkward
for me, fair cousin?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. It was only a silly fancy of mine,’ answered Bertha
confusedly; for in the light of Tor’s cool, unconcerned demeanour, her
suspicions did look both foolish and uncalled for. ‘All the same, I
shan’t talk about it, because I shouldn’t like anyone else to fancy
such things.’
‘Fancies are harmless luxuries, are they not? I am sure I have no wish
to stand in the way of anyone’s imagination,’ answered Tor lazily. ‘At
the same time, let me thank you for your evident goodwill on my behalf;
I shall not forget that you have wished to stand between me and even an
imaginary annoyance. I appreciate your consideration, my dear cousin.’
Bertha smiled and blushed, and felt greatly delighted at having
provoked such words as these. He had not even guessed at the ridiculous
blunder she had made, and had been quite grateful for her confidence.
Bertha was more than ever determined to keep her secret, whether he
cared for its preservation or not, so that he would not have cause to
think she had made a vain promise, which she intended to break.
Tor’s face was somewhat grave and preoccupied as he walked home.
Could Bertha have seen him then, she might have fancied her words had
made a deeper impression than she believed at the time. However, his
meditations ended after all in a laugh.
‘Possession is nine points of the law. They would find it rather
a difficult matter to oust me now, even if they got the clue; and
it’s too nasty a charge to bring up on insufficient evidence. Young
Moncrieff’s recognition and ideas as to likeness are about all that
could turn up against me—that, or similar identifications. Old Belassis
is too much afraid of me to proceed, unless he was sure of his cause,
and in any case he would think twice before getting quite out at elbows
with me. I don’t think I need be much afraid. I am learning the art of
brazening things out finely. Practice makes perfect. By the time old
Phil comes round, I dare say I could stand him out that he was I, and
I he, if he weren’t so completely the Debenham, and so like Maud. I
wish he would come soon, I know. I’m uncommonly tired of playing the
brother’s part, and waiting her pleasure as to young Belassis; though I
don’t believe she will marry him, when it comes to the point.’
Tor was so far settled down in his new life, and to his assumed
character, that he played the part quite naturally and without any
effort. He was interested in the farm-work upon the estate, and entered
into it with great zest. He had been long enough in America to learn
the use and value of machines almost unknown to the rustic population
of Ladywell, and he made a few daring innovations, which were at first
the laughing-stock, and then the wonder and admiration of all the
people round.
Certainly his management, combined with the good season, made
agricultural matters look up again; and the bailiff told him, with
wonder and delight, that this year he believed the farm would pay
its way, and not be a loss. He was disappointed that Tor was not as
rapturously enthusiastic at this news as he should have been, and
discovered that the young squire laboured under the delusion that
farms were profitable concerns.
But the quiet course of country life never seemed to run smoothly
for very long together. Tor was not permitted to enjoy Phil’s rights
undisturbed for any protracted period. The next blow was dealt him from
quite an unexpected quarter.
One day he received by the morning’s post a letter bearing the postmark
‘Whitbury.’ It was a square envelope, in thick, creamy paper, and bore
a handsome coat-of-arms upon it, in place of a crest, by which Tor
imagined his correspondent to be a lady, and a lady of some social
standing.
He turned the letter over and over, with a puzzled expression of
countenance.
‘Whitbury, Whitbury,’ he mused; ‘surely that name is familiar—it seems
associated with my dim recollections of my father. Why, yes, I have it
now. That is the name of the place where I was born—where that house
of mine is. To be sure that’s it. But who can be writing to Phil from
there? It can’t surely be on any business of mine. The agent sees to
all that. I know nothing about it. Well, I’d better open the letter
and see.’
Suiting the action to the words, Tor cut open the envelope, and read
the missive enclosed.
‘SIR,
‘I have been informed by Mr. Torwood’s agent that during some
indisposition, from which he is suffering, you are acting for him in
a business capacity. To you, then, I must appeal upon a matter of
business which threatens to become pressing.
‘I am a tenant of Mr. Torwood’s, and the lease of this house, which I
have occupied for twenty-eight years, is all but run out. I am anxious
to renew it, and that upon equitable terms; but I do not like Mr.
Torwood’s agent, and I am sure he will not fairly represent to his
client the state of the case, and will propose terms which are only
advantageous to him, without being just to me. I always do dislike
middle-men, and I am quite determined that this matter shall be
settled without having recourse to them.
‘I know that if Mr. Torwood were able to do so, he would be willing
to undertake the trouble of a journey to Whitbury, to see his father’s
old friend, and do her a kindness. I cannot tell how far you, his
deputy, are prepared to act, but can only say that I should esteem a
visit as a personal favour, and should be extremely obliged if you
would come and see me and the house, and ascertain for yourself the
true state of the case. I feel convinced that we should then have no
difficulty in coming to terms as to the new lease, for my wish is to
have justice on both sides.
‘I trust that you will grant me the favour I ask.
‘Yours faithfully,
‘MARJORY DESCARTES.
‘Minster House, Whitbury.’
Tor pulled vigorously at his moustache, and paced the room
thoughtfully. He was alone, for he had been out upon the farm early,
and had come in before the breakfast-hour, and the ladies were not yet
down.
‘Marjory Descartes! yes, I remember the name. My father spoke to me
sometimes of Mr. Descartes and Miss Marjory. She is evidently Miss
Marjory still. Why, of course she may have the house on any terms she
likes to propose. I believe I’ve had somewhere about a hundred a year
from it all this while. I’ll renew the lease on the same terms if she
likes. It would be a shame to try and “do” a good tenant, such as she
has always been. But I don’t see exactly why I need go down in person
to tender this assurance; not that there could be any danger to my
_incog._, as I haven’t been there since I was a baby: but I don’t see
any good in mixing myself up more than is needful with my own affairs
just now; and Wetherby might know me, if I were to come across him, as
I have seen him from time to time, though not for many years now. I
shouldn’t mind seeing the place and the house at all; but I’ll put it
off, I think, until I can go as Torwood, not as Debenham. I’ll write to
Miss Marjory, and guarantee that she shall not be disturbed or annoyed.
I think that ought to satisfy her.’
So Tor, during the course of the day, penned the following neat little
epistle:
‘DEAR MADAM,
‘I have received your letter about the house of my friend Mr. Torwood,
which you rent, and am in a position to assure you that you have
nothing to fear in your dealings with him. I hope, before very long,
he will have recovered his health, and be able to pay his respects
to you in person; and meantime I shall write to the agent to let him
know that things are to go on as they are for a year. By that time Mr.
Torwood will have resumed the management of his own affairs, and will
be able to settle with you the terms of the new lease, which I am sure
he will draw up so as to meet your views.
‘I trust this guarantee on my part will relieve you from all further
anxiety. If my going to Whitbury could be of any service to you, I
should be very pleased to accept your kind invitation; but if I take
the steps I propose, I do not see what advantage would be gained by my
doing so.
‘I shall acquaint Mr. Torwood with what has passed, as soon as he is
in a fit state to attend to business matters.
‘Yours faithfully,
‘PHILIP DEBENHAM.
‘Ladywell Manor.’
‘There, I think that will satisfy the old lady,’ said Tor, as he
folded and addressed his letter. ‘How things come back to one! I can
remember how often my father spoke of Miss Marjory, and how much he
seemed to admire her force of character and determination. I must
certainly go and see her some day when I have cast off my shell; but I
will wait for that first, and go _in propriâ personâ_.’
Tor had yet to learn the extent of Miss Marjory’s force of character.
Two or three days later came another Whitbury letter.
‘Confound the old girl!’ thought Tor irreverently. ‘What can she want
now?’
That the letter speedily explained.
‘DEAR SIR,
‘I am grateful for your prompt and courteous reply to my letter; but
at the same time there is so much I wish to say to Mr. Torwood or his
deputy, that I cannot feel satisfied without a personal interview.
Women, as you know, are fidgety creatures, and I share this weakness.
Mr. Torwood’s illness seems a serious matter, by what I gather; and
I do not like waiting and suspense. There are several things I want
done about the place, and I do not like to settle anything until I can
see my landlord. You stand towards me in that position just now, and
therefore I want to see you. You are a gentleman, which the agent is
not; and I can deal with you, as I cannot possibly do with him.
‘I trust that you will humour this fancy of mine, and come over at
your early convenience. I think when we meet, I can convince you that
it is not a mere freak of imagination that a personal inspection is
necessary. Besides which, now is the time for working. Our hard winter
frosts prevent any kind of building-work during a great part of the
year.
‘If you will kindly consent to come, and will name your day and train,
I will see that you are met at the station; and if you will spend
the night here, instead of at the hotel, you will be doing me an
additional pleasure. The journey cannot be taken twice upon the same
day.
‘Yours sincerely,
‘MARJORY DESCARTES.
‘Minster House, Whitbury.’
‘I suppose I must go now,’ said Tor, half aloud.
‘Go where?’ asked Maud.
‘To Yorkshire, on some business of poor Tor’s.’
Maud put on an air of reproach.
‘You are always tearing off somewhere, Phil. Why must you go? Can’t you
write?’
‘I did try to do it by writing; but I find it won’t do.’
‘I wish that old Tor would come back, and do his work for himself,’
cried Maud.
‘So do I,’ answered Tor, so fervently that Maud looked at him and asked:
‘Is it disagreeable business, then, Phil?’
‘Oh no! not bad; only some business with a tenant about a house of his.
But I’m shy, you know; and she’s a lady, and I know she’ll get her own
way with me, to the detriment of Tor’s pocket.’
‘Take me with you, poor, shy little boy!’ laughed Maud; ‘I’ll see
you’re not bullied.’
‘I should like to take you well enough; only I’m to be her guest, and
couldn’t bring a sister very well.’
‘How did she know to write to you?’
‘The agent told her I was acting for Tor.’
‘Oh; and how is Tor, Phil? You never speak of him.’
‘He’s much the same; very queer and seedy. I must go and see after him
one of these days.’
‘Everybody says you ought to bring him to England to be doctored,’ said
Maud, flushing up a little. ‘It makes me quite angry, but they keep on
saying that you ought not to leave him alone, and ill, when he did so
much for you. I know it’s all right if _you_ do it; but I can’t stop
people’s mouths, and it is so horrid. I wish you would bring him over,
Phil.’
‘I will, as soon as ever I can; but he is not well enough yet to
travel. He is under one of the best men in Germany, and I don’t believe
any English physician could do more for him. Don’t you worry over what
people say, little sister. I know that you will trust me through thick
and thin, and that is all I care for.’
‘I will, I do!’ cried Maud, with enthusiasm; and Mrs. Lorraine’s gentle
voice added:
‘I think nobody who really knows dear Philip could do otherwise.’
Tor looked pleased, and bent down to kiss his aunt.
‘I think I have made at least two staunch friends, who will stand by me
through everything.’
‘Of course!’ cried Maud, with energy; ‘but why should you talk as if
you might need people to stand by you? And why don’t you kiss me too?’
He laughed, and turned again to his letter.
‘I’ll write at once, and fix to-morrow. Best get the business over as
early as possible.’
So his note was written accepting Miss Marjory’s hospitality; and Tor
made a few preparations, consulted Bradshaw, and arranged to leave in
the morning and return the following afternoon.
‘I hope this affair will not lead to any more complications,’ he said
to himself, when seated in the train. ‘I have quite enough on my hands
without that; but I don’t see how it can. Not a soul there knows me, so
I think I may feel quite safe.’