THE VISCOUNT’S SCHEME.
Rivington scribbled the following in his notebook, and for a minute
reflected intently:
MY DEAR LADY ELAINE--I have just reached here to learn that there has
been some unpleasantness between you and Lady Gaynor. She evidently
imagined that I should sanction any course she was pleased to take,
but has been woefully disappointed. I quite agree with you that the
Lodge cannot longer be your home, and my active advice, if required,
is at your service. If you will see me for a few minutes I shall be
happy to assist you to the utmost of my limited powers, without in the
last interfering with your freedom of thought and action.
Very sincerely yours, HENRY RIVINGTON.
He tore the leaf containing the message out of his notebook, and handed
it to Lady Gaynor to read, remarking:
“This merely foreshadows my plan of campaign. In any event, I am
determined to make Lady Elaine the future Duchess of Rothwell, and
the sooner the ceremony takes place the better for me and for you. My
uncle refuses to make a new will until Lady Elaine is either my wife
or he is convinced that nothing less than a miracle can prevent her
being so. He is not content with my mere word or printed notices in the
newspapers. He wishes confirmation from my lady’s own lips. So far,
luck has ever been attendent upon me. I shall now pose in the character
of the chivalrous but unhappy lover. A week or two will decide me upon
its ultimate success. If the plan does not work, I shall require your
services again, Lady Gaynor, and the business will have to be put in
hand with expedition. I care not what means are employed.”
“I will be in readiness, viscount,” her ladyship replied, with an evil
smile. “Lady Elaine has made an enemy of me, and to punish her I am
resolved that she shall be your wife.”
She laughed maliciously.
“After that she will always be in my power, more or less.”
He pretended not to notice this ambiguous speech, but said:
“I shall deliver my written message in person. It is impossible that I
may not have an opportunity of speaking to you again to-day, but I will
keep you alive regarding my movements.”
“_Au revoir!_ my dear boy. I think that there is nothing more to
say. You will make me out a monster of iniquity to her ladyship,
and your own virtues will shine with luminous brightness against my
dark background. You have a subtle brain, and the scheme would work
admirably with any ordinary girl, but Lady Elaine Seabright is not an
ordinary girl. Unfortunately, viscount, you are not an Apollo, like the
recreant Sir Harold, for instance, and I am afraid that the part you
have chosen does not suit you. The stage villain is more in your line!”
The viscount did not relish her raillery, but with a bow and a muttered
good-morning he left the room in quest of Lady Elaine, conscious that
the butler was ever on the alert.
In answer to his gentle knock the door was opened by Nina, and the
viscount’s quick eyes saw that the girl was flushed and trembling with
excitement. The floor was littered with hastily-packed boxes.
“Can I see your mistress, Nina?” he asked, softly and kindly. “Nay, I
have no wish to intrude, and will be here again in ten minutes’ time.
Meanwhile, give Lady Elaine this note from me.”
The maid took the scrap of paper from him, and when he returned in the
time he had named he was immediately admitted by Nina.
Lady Elaine was standing in the middle of the shabby little
sitting-room, his note between her fingers, and at sight of her
graceful, haughty figure and beautiful face, the viscount’s heart
throbbed with its old passion.
He stepped forward with what appeared to be warm impulsiveness, and
gently took one of her hands between his.
“I have heard something of the annoyance to which you have been
subjected by that vulgar woman downstairs. Indeed, she telegraphed to
me,” he added, with an air of candor, “and the result has not been
pleasant to her. I believe that we have good and sufficient grounds to
cause her co-guardianship to be rescinded. I applaud your determination
to leave this wretched house, and only hope that I may be permitted to
help you in some way.”
“You are very kind, viscount,” Lady Elaine said, gratefully. “I
scarcely knew how you would view my conduct.”
“You could not believe that I would oppose you, Lady Elaine?” he said,
softly. “I had no hand in bringing you here. I had no knowledge even of
the late earl’s choice of executors until it was too late to offer a
protest upon my own behalf at least. The position naturally prejudices
me in your eyes.”
“No! No!” the girl interjected.
“As for Lady Gaynor, she merits nothing but my contempt. She is a
violent and dangerous woman. This house is nightly the resort of
gamblers, and it is wonderful the influence that she obtained over
the late earl. I have myself lost fabulous sums of money among the
card-sharpers who frequent the place. I make this confession with
shame, but Lady Gaynor and I are open foes at last!”
“I believe that I have misjudged you, and I am sorry, viscount,” said
Elaine, a little penitently.
It was so sweet to have a friend at this unlooked-for moment--a friend
in one whom she had feared would be an enemy!
“You are nearly ready to leave!” he observed, glancing around.
“I shall be quite ready in an hour.”
“And may I ask whither? I would like to take you to my uncle’s
place--Rothwell Abbey--but I do not wish it to appear that I have any
hand in shaping your course. At the same time I should like to help
you.”
“I intended going direct to a London hotel--I and my maid,” Elaine
said, “and then seeking for a pretty home somewhere in the country. I
have a few hundred pounds in money, and there is my private fortune.
Now that I have your friendship, viscount, I know that no bar will be
put against my deriving full benefit from that. You see my plans are
very simple,” she added, pathetically; “I have no desire to meet those
friends who have nothing but pity for me, and my soul sickens at the
thought of gayety.”
“I quite agree with all you say; indeed, nothing could be better under
existing circumstances,” the viscount said. “I will order the carriage
to be ready in an hour. The luggage had better precede us to the
railway station, if it is ready. Allow me to tighten the straps.”
He busied himself for some minutes, then asked if lunch should be sent
upstairs.
“No, thank you,” Lady Elaine said. “I shall not breathe freely until
I am out of this house forever. I shall never forget your kindness,
viscount.”
There were tears in her eyes and in her voice, and Rivington felt that
his cause was half won.
“I will accompany you to London,” he said. “A man is useful in looking
after things, and I may be able to assist you in the choice of a house.
I know every inch of the suburbs. I would suggest a pretty villa in
the vicinity of Hyde Park--a sort of combination of country and town,
where people mind their own business. The ordinary country village is a
perfect hotbed of malicious gossip.”
“I am sure that I shall be content to leave the selection in your
hands,” Lady Elaine replied, thoughtfully. “And it will, perhaps, be
wise to be within easy reach of Mr. Worboys.”
“The late family lawyer!” the viscount exclaimed, incautiously, but
added quickly, “yes, and you may have need of his services soon. Lady
Elaine, at present I stand between you and a vast fortune. You know
what my hopes have been and ever will be, but I want you to acquit me
of having any hand in that infamous will! It is impossible to alter it,
but I am not so mean a cur that I will permit you to lose one shilling
because I suffer the keenest disappointment that it is possible for man
to endure and live!”
She looked at him gratefully, and he pressed her hand in silence.
“There,” he concluded, “I will send the cart to the door for your
luggage, and find that prying footman something to do. You have
selected your train, I presume?”
“Two-thirty from Ashbourne,” Elaine said.
“Very well,” he went on, consulting his watch, “the carriage shall be
waiting at two.”
He bowed gracefully, and left the room with the feelings of a victor.
“I shall win her,” he thought. “Aye, in a canter, I verily believe.
Sympathy and kindness appeal to her haughty soul.”
At two o’clock Lady Elaine, Viscount Rivington and Nina, the maid,
left the Lodge in Lady Gaynor’s rickety brougham, and were driven to
Ashbourne station.
“It happears to me,” remarked the butler to the footman, “that there’s
a good chance of our getting the back wages, but hang me if I can see
the drift of the little game.”