MR. PATTENS
The next day the Duchess called, and mother was looking so well for
her, and so pleased to see her old friend again, that I do not think
at first the Duchess of Wilmot half realised how ill she was. I just
saw her for a moment, and then went out. I came back again at the end
of an hour. Mother's cheeks were quite bright, and her eyes shining,
and her hand was in the Duchess's hand, and when she looked at me her
eyes grew brighter than ever, and she said to me--
"Come here, darling," and she raised her dear lips for me to kiss her.
I did kiss those lips, and I thought them too hot, and I said to the
Duchess--
"You are tiring mother, you have stayed with her long enough."
"Oh no, let her stay; I do love so much to see her," said my mother,
so I could not have the heart to say any more, and I went away to a
distant part of the room, and they began whispering again just like
the dearest friends which they really were, and at last the Duchess
came up to me and said--
"Come downstairs with, me, West."
I went with her, and wondered why she called me by mother's pet name,
but I loved her very much.
"Tell me the truth about your mother," said the Duchess as soon as we
got into the hall. "At first I thought her fairly well, but she is
feverish, quite feverish now. Have I overtired her?"
"I cannot tell you anything except that she is not strong," I said;
"that you have come so seldom to see her, that you have over-excited
her now. Oh, I cannot wait, I must go back to her."
"I will come again to-morrow or next day," said the Duchess; "I don't
like her appearance at all."
The Duchess went away, and I returned to mother.
"It was nice to see Victoria," said my mother. "She is just the same
as ever, not the least changed. She told me about all our old
friends."
"You are over-excited," I said, "you ought to stay quiet now."
"On the contrary, I am well and hungry; only I wonder when I shall see
her again."
"She said she would come to-morrow or next day," I answered.
In the evening mother certainly seemed by no means worse for the
Duchess's visit, and the next day she said to me, "Victoria will
certainly call to-morrow." But to-morrow came and the Duchess did not
arrive, nor the next day, nor the next, and mother looked rather
fagged, and rather sad and disappointed, and at the end of a week or
fortnight she ceased to watch anxiously for the sound of wheels in the
Square, and said less and less about her dear friend Victoria.
But just then, the thoughts of every one in the house except mother
(and the news was carefully kept from her), were full of a great and
terrible catastrophe, and even I forgot all about the Duchess, for one
of our largest Orient liners had foundered on some sunken rocks not
far from Port Adelaide, off the coast of South Australia, and there
had been a terrific shipwreck, and almost every one on board was
drowned. The vessel was called the _Star of Hope_. The papers were all
full of it, and the news was on every one's lips; but just at first I
did not realise how all important, how paralysing this same news was
for us. I read the trouble first in Jane's face.
"You must not let your mother know about the shipwreck," she said.
"But I cannot keep the newspapers from mother, and every newspaper is
full of it," I replied; "surely, Jane, surely--oh, you cannot mean
it--no person that we know was on board?"
"I have a great fear over me," she answered.
I clutched her arm, and looked into her face with wild eyes. My own
brain seemed to reel, my heart beat almost to suffocation, then I
became quiet. With a mighty effort I controlled myself.
"Surely," I said, "surely."
"His name is not mentioned amongst the list of passengers, that is my
one comfort; but it is quite possible, on the other hand, that he may
have gone on board at Adelaide," she continued, "for I know he had
business close to Adelaide, he told me so. If that was the case they
might not have entered his name in the ship's list of passengers,
and--oh, I have a great, a terrible fear over me, his silence, and now
this. Yes, child, it is true, he was, if all had gone well, to be on
his way home about now; but he has never written, and now this
shipwreck. I am more anxious, far more anxious than I can say."
That night I did not sleep at all. Thoughts of Jim Randolph filled my
mind to the exclusion of all hope of repose. Was he really drowned?
Had he left the world? Was I never to see his face again? There was a
cry at my heart, and an ache there which ought to have told me the
truth, and yet I would not face the truth. I said over and over to
myself, "If he dies, it is terrible; if he dies, it means ruin for
us;" but nevertheless I knew well, although I would not face the
truth, that I was not thinking of the ruin to the house in Graham
Square, nor the blow to mother, nor the loss of James Randolph simply
as a friend. There was a deeper cause for my grief. It was useless for
me to say to my own heart Jim Randolph was nothing to me. I knew well
that he was. I knew well that he was more to me than any one else in
the wide world; that I--yes, although he had never spoken of his love
for me, I loved him, yes, I loved him with my full heart.
In the morning I made up my mind that I would go and see the Duchess.
Perhaps, too, she might know something about Jim Randolph, as he was a
friend of hers, a friend about whom she was always hinting, but about
whom she said very little.
As I was leaving the house Jane called me into her sitting-room.
"Where are you going," she said.
I told her.
"Did you ever think over that idea of mine that you might ask the
Duchess to lend us that thousand pounds?" she said. "You remember I
mentioned it, and you said you would not do it; but things are very
grave, very grave indeed; and if--if my fear about Mr. Randolph is
true, why things are graver than ever, in fact everything is up. But I
would like for _her_ sake, poor dear, for her sake to ward off the
catastrophe as long as possible. She was very ill last night, and I
was up with her for a couple of hours. I wouldn't disturb you; but
didn't you think yourself that she looked bad this morning?"
"Oh yes," I said, the tears starting to my eyes; "I thought mother
looked terribly ill, and I am going to see the Duchess. She ought to
call in order to make mother happy."
"Shut the door, Westenra," said Jane, "I have something I must say."
I shut the door, I was trembling. Jane was no longer a rock of
defence, she made me more frightened than any one else in the house.
"Oh, what is it?" I said; "don't be mysterious, do speak out."
"Well, it is this," said Jane, "we want that thousand pounds just
dreadfully. If we had it we could go on, we could go on at least till
the end of the season, and there would be an excuse to take your
mother to the country, and she might never know, never; but it wants
two months to the end of the season, and the house is full, and every
one is in the height of good humour, and yet they are all walking on
the brink of a precipice; the earth is eaten away beneath us, and any
moment the whole thing may topple through. Why, it was only
yesterday----"
"What happened yesterday?" I asked.
"A man came, a Mr. Pattens."
"What has Mr. Pattens to do with us?" I said.
"You listen to me, my dear; things are so grave that I can scarcely
smile, and you are so ignorant, Westenra."
"Well," I said, "do tell me about Mr. Pattens."
"He is the butcher, dear, and we owe him over a hundred pounds, and he
is positively desperate. He asked to see me, and of course I saw him,
and then he said he _must_ see your mother."
"See mother? But mother never sees the tradespeople."
"I know, love; but it was with the utmost difficulty I could keep him
from not seeing her. He said that she was responsible for his account,
and that if I would not let him see her he would do the other thing."
"What?" I asked, "what?"
"Well, my dear, it is coming, and you may as well bear it. There will
be a bailiff in this house in no time. Yes, there'll be a man in
possession, and how is your mother to stand that? You think whether
you would rather just tell your grand friend the Duchess, and save
your mother from the depths of humiliation, or whether you will let
things take their course. Pattens is desperate, and he is the sort of
man who will have no mercy. I have had to get the meat from another
butcher--we can't hold out much longer. I have paid away the last
shilling of the reserve fund I had in the bank. Oh dear, oh dear! why
did Mr. Randolph go away? If he has gone down in the _Star of Hope_,
why truly it is black night for us."
"I will do my best, Jane, and do keep up heart; and oh, Jane, keep
mother in her room, she must not know, she must not meet this terrible
danger. O Jane! do your best."
"I will, love. Even at the very worst day dawns but it is black night
at present, that it is," said the faithful creature.
As I was going out who did I see standing on the threshold but Mrs.
Fanning. Mrs. Fanning had been away for over a fortnight, and I must
say we greatly enjoyed her absence, and I in particular enjoyed it;
but when I saw her comely, good-humoured, beaming face now, it seemed
to me that my heart went out to her. She looked at me, and then she
opened her arms wide.
"Come to me, you dear little soul," she said; "come and have a hearty
hug." She clasped me tightly, and kissed me over and over again.
"I am only back an hour," she said. "And how is Albert?"
"I have not seen Mr. Fanning this morning," I answered, and I tried to
disengage myself from those cheery arms.
"Dear, dear, you don't look at all the thing," she said; "there's the
brougham outside, would not you like a drive, honey? You and I might
go out by ourselves. Come, dearie."
"No, thank you," I answered, "I am going on some special business for
mother."
"Then whatever it is, can't you make use of the brougham? It was all
built and painted to suit your style, love, and why should not you
make use of it? Albert would be that proud."
"Oh, indeed he would not, Mrs. Fanning; but please do not speak of it,
I cannot, I really cannot."
"Well, if you won't, you won't," said the good woman. "I have come
back, though, and I hope to see a good deal of you; I have got lots
to tell you. I have been collecting early reminiscences."
"Of what?" I could not help asking.
"Of Albert's babyhood and childhood, they are that touching. I found a
little diary he used to keep. I declare I laughed and I cried over it.
We'll read it together this evening. Now then, off you go, and do get
some colour back into your pale cheeks; you are quite the prettiest,
most graceful, most h'aristocratic young lady I ever saw; but you are
too pale now, you really are."
I did not say any more; I grasped Mrs. Fanning's hand.
"How is your dear mother?" she said.
"Mother is not at all well."
"Ah, poor dear, poor dear," said Mrs. Fanning; "then no wonder your
cheeks are pale. I said to Albert the very last night I left, 'Albert,
if you win her, she's worth her weight in gold, it is a gold heart she
has; you watch her with her mother, Albert, and think what she'll be
to you.'"
"Mrs. Fanning, you really must not talk in that way," I said. "Please
let me go."
She did let me go. My contact with her had slightly braced me. I felt
angry once more with the terrible Albert; but Mrs. Fanning was
kindness itself. Oh, if only Albert had been a different man, and I
had really cared for him, and I--but why think of the impossible.
I got into an omnibus, and gave the man directions to put me down at
the nearest point to the Duchess's house. I found myself echoing Jane
Mullins's words, "Why had Jim Randolph gone away?"
I arrived at the Duchess's in good time. I had made up my mind to tell
her all. She must lend us a thousand pounds. Mother must be saved;
mother must be kept in the dark as to the utter ruin of my mad plan. I
whispered the story as I would tell it to my old friend over and over
to myself, and when I mounted the steps of the house and rang the bell
I was trembling, and felt very faint and tired. The footman opened the
door, and I inquired for her Grace.
"Can I see her?" I said. "I am Miss Wickham; I want to see her on very
special business."
"I will mention that you have called, madam," replied the man; "but
her Grace is not visible, she is very ill. She has been in bed for
several days, and the doctor is with her. It is influenza."
Then, indeed, I felt my last hopes tottering.
"I am sorry her Grace is ill," I said. I paused for a moment to
consider. "Can I see Miss Mitford?" I inquired then. Miss Mitford was
a lady who did some correspondence for the Duchess, and who was
generally to be found in the house.
Miss Mitford came downstairs immediately, and I saw her in a small
room to the left of the great hall.
"It is the shock about Mr. Randolph," she said at once.
"Then is it really supposed that he was drowned in the _Star of
Hope_?" I cried.
"He mentioned that he was coming to England by that boat," replied
Miss Mitford. "The Duchess is certain that he is amongst the
passengers, although his name has not been mentioned as yet in any
list. Her Grace is terribly upset, more particularly as Mr. Severn,
Sir Henry Severn's only son, died a fortnight ago. There is great
confusion, and Mr. Randolph ought to be back."
I did not ask any questions with regard to this latter news, nor did
it interest me in the very least. Of course Mr. Randolph ought to be
back, but for very very different reasons. I went sorrowfully, oh so
sorrowfully, away.
When I returned home Jane was waiting for me in the hall. She was
hovering about, looking very untidy and very anxious.
"Well," she said; "come in here, I must speak to you."
"But it is luncheon time," I said, "and people will wonder."
"Let them wonder. Did you see her? Did she promise to lend it? That
man has been here again. He is desperate, and says that if he is not
paid in two days he will put in the bailiff."
"And what will that mean?" I asked.
"Ruin--utter and complete. But tell me, did you see the Duchess?"
"I did not," I answered; "she is ill in bed; and oh, Jane, it is the
shock about Mr. Randolph which has caused her illness. The Duchess is
quite sure that he did sail in the _Star of Hope_. O Jane! what is to
be done?"
"God only knows," answered Jane Mullins; "we are up a tree, and that's
the truth."