THE LAST STEP BUT ONE
You shall now hear more of the cunning by which this noble and
virtuous person--this adornment and boast of the peerage--laid his
plans for securing the fortune and the hand of our Molly. He had
persuaded the simple old sailor to believe anything he chose to
advance; he had shown himself in the eyes of the girl, that which
women admire more than anything else in the world, fearless and
skilled in fence and ready to fight; he had also shown himself ready
to place his courage and his skill at the service and for the rescue
of a woman. So far, everything was prepared and in readiness for the
next step. But there were certain obstacles still in the way. These he
proceeded to remove.
The Lady Anastasia, after the morning prayers, at which she was a
regular attendant, generally returned to her lodging, where she sat
with her maid engaged in the important affairs of the toilette until
dinner.
This day, after his examination of the jewels, Lord Fylingdale was
carried to Lady Anastasia's lodging in the market-place.
The Lady dismissed her maid. "You have something to tell me,
Ludovick," she said. "I cannot tell from your face whether you are
going to deal truthfully. I have had, as you know, a large experience
of the other way. Now, what is it?"
"What I have come to say is important. Anastasia, in this matter I
have given you my entire confidence. There have been, I own, occasions
when I have been compelled--but all that is over. I now confide
absolutely in you and in you alone. My interests are yours."
"You have already given me that assurance on other occasions." She
implied, perhaps, by these words that the assurance and the fact were
not identical.
"What can I give you except my assurance?"
"Nothing, truly. But pray go on. I hear that you have been playing the
part of knight errant and fighting for distressed damsels. I laughed
when I heard of it. You to fight on the side of the angels? Where are
your wings, my Ludovick?"
"The thing happened exactly as I could have wished. The country
bumpkin who carried her off had no knowledge of fence. He could only
lunge, and he was half drunk. There was a great appearance of
desperate fighting--because he was mad with drink and disappointment.
I played with the fellow long enough to make a show of courage and
danger. Then I pinked him."
"Is he dead?"
"I believe that he is in some kind of fever. Perhaps he is by this
time dead. What matters? Well, Anastasia, the result of the affair is
that I have now arrived at perfect confidence on the part of my old
friend the guardian."
"And with the girl?"
"The girl matters nothing. The first part of the business is done. You
can now go back to London."
"Go back to London?" she repeated, suspiciously.
"You have done all I wanted done here. You have given me a very good
character; you have charmed the people of the spa; you have flattered
the girl and inspired her with discontent. Why should you stay any
longer?"
"To be sure I am living at great expense, and the bank is in a poor
way. But what are you going to do?"
"Anastasia"--he sat down and took her hand--"I have inquired carefully
into the whole business. There is no doubt, none whatever, that the
girl is far richer than even her guardian understands. She has a huge
income--a great accumulation of money--and, what is more, a collection
of jewels which is in itself a large fortune. Go back to London
to-morrow or next day; then sit down and write a letter inviting the
girl to stay at your house. Bid her bring with her all her jewels and
finery. I, for my part, will urge the captain to let her accept the
invitation."
"All this is very circumstantial. What then?"
"I will promise the captain to find her a husband--a man of position,
a man of rank, and, above all, one as virtuous as myself." He said
this without the least blush or even a smile.
"Where is that husband to be found?"
"As yet I do not know. He must be a creation of our own. He must not
know; he must simply obey. We shall find such a person somewhere. I
have, I believe, a good many of my former friends in the fleet or the
King's Bench. Now, Anastasia, to find one of these unfortunates; to
offer him an allowance, say a guinea a week, in return for a power of
attorney to administer the property. True, there are the creditors;
but we might take over the detainers. He must not be suffered to get
out." He went on suggesting deceits and villainies.
"You said 'we.' What have I to do with the scheme? It is, you must
confess, Ludovick, one of those arrangements or understandings which
the world calls a conspiracy."
Lord Fylingdale released her hand. Her words pained his sensitive
soul. "If at this time, after all that we have done together, we are
to talk of conspiracies, we had better act separately," he said
coldly.
"No, I am your servant, as you know. Sometimes your most unhappy
servant, but always at your command. Only now and then it pleases me
to call things by their proper names. At such times, Ludovick, I look
in my glass and I see, not the Lady Anastasia in a company of fashion,
but a poor wretch sitting in a cart with her arms tied down, a white
nightcap on her head and a prayer-book in her hand. There is a coffin
in the cart."
"Anastasia! You are ridiculous. What have we done that all the world
would not do if it could? These scruples are absurd, and these visions
are fantastic. What is your share? You know that half of mine--all
that is mine--is yours as well. You shall have my hand and my name.
These you should have had long ago had they been worth your picking
up. Alas! Anastasia, no one knows better than you the desperate
condition of my affairs."
"Well, I will obey you. I will go back to town. I will go to-morrow.
The other partners in our innocency--they will also go back, I
suppose."
"They will have done their part--Sir Harry and the colonel and the
parson--they will all go back. They cost a great deal to keep, and
they have done their work."
"Should I see the girl before I go?"
"Perhaps not. Write to her from London. Invite her to stay with you.
For my own part, I will look about me for the man we want. A
prisoner--on the poor side--a gentleman; one who will do anything for
a guinea a week. The girl will not know that he is a prisoner--it will
be quite easy----"
This he said, concealing his real intentions, and only anxious to get
this lady out of the way. But he left her suspicious and jealous. That
is to say, she had already become both, and this intricate plot of
getting a husband from the fleet, and the rest of it, made her still
more suspicious and jealous.
At the "Crown" Lord Fylingdale found Colonel Lanyon waiting for him.
"I have inquired, my lord, after Tom Rising. He is in a fever this
morning."
"Will he die? What do they think?"
"Perhaps. But he is young. They think that he will recover. What are
your lordship's commands?"
"We have stayed here long enough, colonel."
"With submission, my lord. Although business has been very bad, it
would be as well to wait for the event in Tom Rising's case. My
position is very secure if he recovers. The gentlemen of the company
have acknowledged that he forced high play upon me; they are unanimous
in that respect. It means over a thousand pounds. If he recovers he
must pay the money."
"Yes. In that case it may be best to wait. If he dies----"
"Then, my lord, we know not what his heirs and executors may resolve
upon. The feeling concerning debts of honour is, however, very strong
among the gentlemen of Norfolk. I am sorry that they are not richer."
"If the man dies you can refer to me, perhaps, as arbitrator with the
executors. Meantime, make the best of your opportunities and lose no
more money. Lady Anastasia goes home in a few days, perhaps
to-morrow."
The man retired. Lord Fylingdale sat down and reflected. The great
thing was to get Lady Anastasia out of the way; the rest might stay or
not, as they pleased. Yet he would warn them that their departure
would not be delayed long. He took pen and paper and wrote to Sir
Harry.
"DEAR BEAU,--I think that the air of Lynn after a few weeks is not
wholesome for one no longer in his first youth. I would therefore
advise that you should think about going back to town. Settle
immediately your affairs, gaming and others. Leave the hearts you
have broken and return to mend those which are only cracked. In a
word, the ladies of London are calling loudly for your return, and
the wits and pretty fellows are asking what has become of Sir
Harry.--Your obedient servant to command,
"FYLINGDALE."
There remained the parson and the poet. The latter he could send away
at a day's notice; the former he would probably want for a certain
purpose. He sent for Mr. Semple, his secretary.
"Semple," he said, "I have now made inquiry into the truth of your
statements--I mean as regards this young lady's fortune."
"It is as I told your lordship?"
"It is. The fortune you have exaggerated, but it is no doubt
considerable. Well, I have sent for you in order to tell you that I am
now resolved upon carrying out the project you submitted to me. My own
affairs are, as you found out, embarrassed; the girl's fortune will be
useful to me; her person is passable; her manners can be improved. I
have therefore determined to make her my countess."
"My lord, I rejoice to have been the humble instrument----"
"You have kept the secret, so far, I believe. At least I have seen no
sign that any one suspects my intentions. You have invented a lie of
enormous audacity in order to bring us all together; myself, your
project up my sleeve; and certain friends of mine, to assist in
various ways; your inventions have converted an ordinary well into a
health restoring spring; you have caused the elevation of this town of
common sailors and traders and mechanics into a fashionable spa.
Semple, you are a very ingenious person. I hope that you are satisfied
with your success."
"Gratified, my lord. Not satisfied."
"I understand. You shall be satisfied very shortly by the fulfillment
of my promise. It is, if I remember, to find you a place under
government, worth at least £200 a year, with perquisites. You shall
learn, Semple, that I can be grateful and that I can keep my word,
written or spoken. Now there remains one more service."
He proceeded to give him certain instructions.
"And, remember, the greatest secrecy is to be observed. Neither you
nor the captain is to reveal the fact--until the business is
completed. Everything will be ruined if anything is revealed. Your own
future depends upon your secrecy. You are sure that you have your
instructions aright?"
"I am quite sure, my lord. I am your ambassador. I come with a message
of great importance. There are reasons why the proceedings are to be
kept secret. The lady will be made a countess before a prying and
impertinent world can be informed of your lordship's intentions. I
fly, my lord. I fly."
"One moment, friend Semple. Before you depart on this mission, resolve
me as to a difficulty in my mind."
"What is that, my lord?"
"You are aware, of course, that my plan of life is not quite what this
girl looks for in a husband. She will expect, in fact, the bourgeoise
virtues--constancy, fidelity, early hours, regularity, piety. You know
very well that she will find none of these virtues. They are not, I
believe, expected in persons of my rank. You are preparing for the
girl, in fact, a great disappointment, and, perhaps, a life of misery.
If I did not want her money, I might pity her."
Sam's face darkened.
"Tell me, my friend, in return for what acts of kindness done to you
by the captain or by Molly herself are you conferring this boon upon
the girl?"
The poet made no reply for awhile. Then he answered, his eyes on the
ground. "The thing is as good as done. I may as well let you know. The
captain cudgelled me like a dog--like a dog. My gratitude is so great
that I have succeeded in marrying his ward to--you, my lord. What
worse revenge could I take?"
"Frankly, I know of none." The devil, himself, you see, can speak
truth at times.
"You will waste and dissipate the whole of her fortune, and would if
it were ten times as great, in raking and gaming; you will send her
back to her own people brokenhearted and ruined. That will be my
doing."
"Friend Semple," said his lordship, "if I were not Fylingdale I would
be Semple; and, to tell the truth, if I saw any other way of raising
money I would--well, perhaps I would--even pity the girl and let her
go."