|A terrible sensation was caused at Brackley Hall when tidings were
brought there of the fatal accident that had befallen its owner. Sir
Leycester had been an excellent master, and was beloved by all his
household, and their regrets for his loss were heartfelt.
Lady Barfleur was completely stunned by the shock. Marple endeavoured
to break the sad intelligence to her gradually; but his countenance and
accents betrayed him.
Rising from the sofa on which she was seated, she seized him by the arm,
and commanded him to tell her the truth.
Thus interrogated, he felt compelled to give a direct reply. But he
regretted doing so, when he saw the effect his words produced upon
her. She looked aghast, placed her hand on her heart, and, then, with a
half-stifled cry, sank upon the sofa.
Marple had taken the precaution to station a female servant at the door;
and he now summoned her to her mistress. Lady Barfleur had fainted.
Emmeline did not hear of the direful event till she returned from the
lake; and she then instantly bethought her of the death-warning she had
received. She managed to restrain her emotions till she reached her own
room, whither she was accompanied by Mildred, who was almost equally
shocked, and then gave way to a paroxysm of grief.
Mrs. Calverley was likewise much distressed. She could not help
reproaching herself as being, in some degree, the cause of the accident;
though she had endeavoured to dissuade the unfortunate baronet from
pursuing the gipsies.
Feeling certain, under the present afflicting circumstances, that
Emmeline would not be willing to part with Mildred, she settled in her
own mind that the latter should remain with her friend for a few days.
Moreover, she herself would spend the night at Brackley, if she could be
of any use to Lady Barfleur. Such were her mental resolves.
Hitherto, she had remained in the garden. She now went into the house.
It was all in confusion, the servants appearing quite scared. There was
no one to whom she could speak, for Captain Danvers had gone off to the
marsh.
The drawing-room was deserted. Nothing was changed there. But how
different the noble room looked in her eyes from what it had done in the
morning! Its splendour seemed dimmed. The great emblazoned shield over
the mantelpiece looked like a hatchment.
After gazing round for a few minutes, she sat down. Melancholy thoughts
intruded upon her. Perhaps, even feelings of remorse assailed her. But
we shall not search her bosom. She began to feel some disquietude at
being left so long alone, and wondered why Mildred did not come down to
her. Possibly, she could not leave Emmeline.
Suddenly, her attention was roused by a disturbance in the
entrance-hall, that seemed to betoken an arrival.
What it was she could not fail to conjecture.
Trampling of feet, as if caused by men bearing a heavy burden, and
muttered voices, were heard. Then followed other sounds, almost equally
significant, the opening and shutting of doors, and the congregating of
servants in the hall.
She waited for some minutes, in the expectation of being summoned, but
as no one came near her, she went forth.
The hall was empty, but the dining-room door stood open, and at it was
stationed the butler.
The man had a very sorrowful countenance indeed. He bowed gravely as she
approached, and motioned her to enter the room.
A very touching spectacle was presented to her gaze.
On a large carved oak table, covered with a crimson cloth, and placed
in the centre of the apartment, was laid the body of the unfortunate
baronet.
It was partially covered by a cloak; and the stains from the swamp in
which he had been engulfed had been carefully removed from his face and
grey locks. Strange to say, his features were not changed, but seemed to
wear their customary kindly expression.
Around were grouped the different members of the household, all of whom
looked deeply afflicted, and some of the female servants were weeping
bitterly.
On one side stood Ned Eushton, with two of his helpers, behind him.
Rarely did Ned's manly visage exhibit such grief as it wore on this sad
occasion. After gazing steadfastly at his late kind-hearted master for
some minutes, he cast down his eyes, and did not raise them again till
the moment of departure.
On the other side stood Marple, who, though burly of frame, was as
soft-hearted as a woman. He deeply lamented Sir Leycester, and well he
might, for the baronet had ever been a good friend to him.
At the end of the apartment stood Captain Danvers, a quiet but not
unmoved spectator of the scene. If his grief made little outward show,
it was not the less deep and sincere. He was strongly attached to his
uncle, from whom, indeed, he had some expectations, that might never now
be realised.
But the principal figures in this touching picture have yet to be
described.
Emmeline and Mildred were kneeling down in prayer, at the back, when
Lady Barfleur entered the room. She had nerved herself, as she thought,
for the ordeal; but on catching sight of the body, she uttered a cry
that thrilled all who heard it, rushed up to her dead husband, clasped
her arms round his neck, and fell with her head upon his breast.
No one ventured to remove her; and she was still in this attitude when
Mrs. Calverley entered the room.
The dark oak ceiling, the dark oak panels, the dim windows, harmonised
with the sombre character of the picture, which made an ineffaceable
impression upon Mrs. Calverley.
The scene suggested many reflections.
In the room, where for many years he had exercised unbounded
hospitality, and where his ancestors had feasted before him, lay the
last male representative of the ancient house of Barfleur.
Sir Leycester had had a son, who died when quite young, and the title
was now extinct. All the late baronet's estates and possessions would go
to his daughter and sole heiress. But Emmeline thought not of the wealth
she had thus suddenly acquired. She thought only of the irreparable loss
she had sustained in the death of the father who had treated her with
constant tenderness and affection, and whom she dearly loved.
But if no selfish thoughts occupied her, reflections somewhat akin
to them occurred to one near to her, who well knew how she was
circumstanced. Mrs. Calverley knew that Emmeline was her father's sole
heiress, and looked upon her as a very important personage, over whom
it would be desirable to obtain an influence. Such influence could
be easily acquired by Mildred, to whom, it was evident, Emmeline was
strongly attached.
Mrs. Calverley knew much, but there was one important matter of which
she was totally ignorant. How could she have been aware that Emmeline
cherished a secret attachment to Chetwynd?
The picture we have attempted to describe remained undisturbed for a few
minutes, when the new-made widow recovered from the swoon into which she
had fallen.
As soon as she could, Mrs. Calverley, who had come up, gently raised
her, and helped her to quit the room. Emmeline and Mildred arose and
followed.
Captain Danvers remained till the household had withdrawn, and then held
a consultation with the butler, to whom the entire management of the
house had been entrusted for the present by Lady Barfleur.
As Mrs. Calverley had foreseen, Emmeline would not part with Mildred;
and she herself remained till the following day, having despatched a
messenger to Ousel-croft with a note to her housekeeper, explaining
matters, and desiring her to send back some things that she and Mildred
required.
Passing over the dreary interval that comprised the inquest, and the
examination and committal of the gipsies, we shall come on to the
funeral, to which a great number of important personages---relatives,
connexions, and friends of the deceased baronet--had been invited.
Sir Gerard Danvers, of Offham Grange and his eldest son Scrope,
Charles's brother, arrived at Brackley Hall on the eve of the sad
ceremonial.
Up to this time, Lady Barfleur had not quitted her room; but she could
not refuse to see her brother and nephew, and she, therefore, dined with
them. It was a _triste_ party, as may be imagined, for her ladyship's
presence cast a gloom over it. Emmeline looked ill; Mildred was out of
spirits; and Mrs. Calverley, who had come over that afternoon, had to
supply the conversation. Both Sir Gerard and Scrope thought her very
charming.
Scrope was about thirty, tall, thin, dark-complexioned, and by no means
so handsome as his brother; but he was exceedingly gentlemanlike, and
would be very rich, and that was much in Mrs. Calver-ley's opinion; so
she took some trouble to please him.
It was with difficulty that Captain Danvers could maintain a grave
exterior. Mr. Carteret, the solicitor, who had acted professionally for
Sir Leycester as he had done for Mr. Calverley, had been over that day;
and when the will of the deceased baronet was examined, it was found he
had left his nephew Charles five thousand pounds. Impossible, after such
a windfall as this, that the captain, who was not over-burdened with
cash, could look very dull.
Members of some of the oldest and best Cheshire families--Egerton,
Cholmondeley, Leigh, Venables, Vernon, Brereton, Mainwaring, Davenport,
and others--attended the funeral.
Sir Bridgnorth Charlton, who had been an old friend of the deceased
baronet, was likewise invited, and came.
Before the funeral _cortège_ set out, Sir Bridgnorth took an opportunity
of speaking to Mildred, and said he would call upon her in a few days,
as he had something to tell her respecting Chetwynd.
Sir Leycester was not interred in the little chapel in the court of the
old Hall, where some of his earlier ancestors reposed, but in his family
vault in the neighbouring church of Brackley, and was borne thither,
according to custom, on the shoulders of the tenantry. Sir Gerald
Danvers and his two sons followed on foot, with a long train of mourners
composed entirely of the deceased baronet's retainers. The carriages of
the important personages we have mentioned closed the procession.
A word respecting Sir Leycester ere we lose sight of him for ever.
Not inappropriately, he might be termed the last of the Cheshire
squires, since he left none behind who so completely answered to the
description of that traditional character.
He seemed to belong to another age--a ruder but manlier age than our
own. Yet Sir Leycester, though sometimes coarse and careless of speech,
could be most courteous.
His ancestors had always been loyal--always true to the Stuarts.
Brackley Hall had held out against the Parliamentarians in the time of
Charles the First, and Sir Chandos Barfleur was killed at the siege. His
son Delves was just as faithful to the king's fortunes, and lost part
of his property; but it was restored by Charles the Second, and again
jeopardised in 1715. Circumstances prevented Sir Wilbraham Barfleur from
joining the Rebellion of '45. From this date the Barfleurs became loyal
to the reigning family.
Born in the latter part of the last century, Sir Leycester belonged to
that epoch rather than to the present. He retained the manners of his
sire and grandsire, and thus became a type of the old school--a type
that has now completely disappeared.
In look, bearing, physiognomy, costume, manner, he differed from the
present generation. But there was no better gentleman, no cheerier
companion, no stauncher friend, no better rider to hounds, than Sir
Leycester Barfleur, the last of the old Cheshire squires.