WHAT OCCURRED AT HORRISTON.
AFTER that fatal interview Claude went neither to the house at
Kensington Gore nor to the chambers of his friend Tait. With the papers
given to him by Hilliston in his pocket, he repaired to a quiet hotel in
Jermyn Street, where he was well-known, and there secured a bedroom for
the night. A wire speedily brought his luggage from the railway station,
and thus being settled for the moment, he proceeded to acquaint himself
with the tragedy of his parents' lives.
It was some time before he could make up his mind to read the papers,
and, dreading the disagreeable relation, he put off the perusal till
such time as he retired to bed. A note dispatched to the Club intimated
to Tait that the second seat at the Curtain Theater would be unoccupied,
and then Claude tried to rid himself of distracting thoughts by a rapid
walk in the Park. So do men dally with the inevitable, and vainly
attempt to stay the march of Fate.
Dinner was a mere farce with the young man, for he could neither eat nor
drink, and afterward he dawdled about the smoke room, putting off the
reading of the papers as long as he could. A superstitious feeling of
coming evil withheld him from immediately learning the truth; and it was
not until the clock struck ten that he summoned up sufficient courage to
repair to his bedroom.
With the papers spread out on a small table, he sat down at half-past
ten, reading by the light of a single candle. A second and a third were
needed before he arose from his chair, and the gray dawn was glimmering
through the window blinds as he laid down the last sheet. Then his face
was as gray as the light spreading over street and house, for he knew
that his dead father had been foully murdered, and that his dead mother
had been morally, if not legally, guilty of the crime. The tragedy--a
strange mixture of the sordid and the romantic--took place at Horriston,
in Kent, in the year 1866, and the following are the main facts, as
exhibited by the provincial press:
In the year 1860 George Larcher and his wife came to settle at
Horriston, attracted thereto by the romantic beauty of the scenery and
the cheerful society of that rising watering-place. Since that time
Horriston, after a feeble struggle for supremacy, has succumbed to
powerful rivals, and is once more a sleepy little provincial town,
unknown to invalid or doctor. But when Mr. and Mrs. Larcher settled
there it was a popular resort for visitors from all quarters of the
three kingdoms, and the young couple were extremely liked by the gay
society which filled the town. For five years they lived there, but
during the sixth occurred the tragedy which slew the husband, and placed
the wife in the dock.
The antecedents of the pair were irreproachable in every respect. He was
a fairly rich man of thirty-five, who, holding a commission in the army,
had met with his wife--then Miss Barker--at Cheltenham. She was a
beautiful girl, fond of dress and gayety, the belle of her native town,
and the greatest flirt of the country side. Handsome George Larcher, in
all the bravery of martial trappings, came like the young prince of the
fairy tale, and carried off the beauty from all rivals. She, knowing him
to be rich, seeing him to be handsome, and aware that he was
well-connected, accepted his hand, and so they were married, to the
great discomfiture of many sighing swains. There was love on his side at
least, but whether Julia Barker returned that passion in any great
degree it is hard to say. The provincial reporter hinted that a prior
attachment had engaged her heart, and though she married Larcher for his
money, and looks, and position, yet she only truly loved one man--one
Mark Jeringham, who afterward figured in the tragedy at Horriston.
To all outward appearance Captain and Mrs. Larcher were a pattern
couple, and popular with military and civil society. Then, in obedience
to the wish of his wife, George Larcher sold out, and within a few
months of their marriage they came to live at Horriston. Here they took
a house known as The Laurels, which was perched on a cliff of moderate
height, overlooking the river Sarway; and proceeded to entertain the gay
society of the neighborhood. One son was born to them a year after they
took up their abode at The Laurels, and he was five years of age when
the tragedy took place which caused the death of his parent. Claude had
no difficulty in recognizing himself as the orphan so pathetically
alluded to by the flowery provincial reporter.
The household of George Larcher consisted of six servants, among whom
two were particularly interesting. The one was the captain's valet,
Denis Bantry, an Irish soldier in the same regiment as his master, who
had been bought out by Larcher when he took leave of military glory.
Attached to the captain by many acts of kindness, Denis was absolutely
devoted to him, and was no unimportant personage in the new home. The
other servant was Mona Bantry, the sister of Denis, a handsome,
bright-eyed lass from County Kerry, who acted as maid to Mrs. Larcher.
The remaining servants call for no special mention, but this Irish
couple must be particularly noted as having been mixed up with the
tragedy.
For some months all went well at The Laurels, and it seemed as though
the Larchers were devoted to one another. But this was only outwardly,
for the character of Julia developed rapidly after marriage into that of
a vain, frivolous woman, eager of admiration, extravagant as regards
dress, and neglectful of the infant son. Larcher, a thoroughly
domesticated man, greatly resented the attitude taken up by his wife,
and the resentment led to frequent quarrels. He was annoyed by her
frivolity and continuous absence from home; while she began to dislike
her grave husband, who would have made her--as she expressed it--a mere
domestic drudge. But the pair managed to hoodwink the world as to their
real feelings to one another, and it was only when the trial of Mrs.
Larcher came on that the truth was revealed. In all Kent there was no
more unhappy home than that at The Laurels.
To make matters worse, Mark Jeringham paid a visit to Horriston, and
having known Mrs. Larcher from childhood, naturally enough became a
frequent visitor. He was everywhere at the heels of the former belle of
Cheltenham, who encouraged him in his attentions. Larcher remonstrated
with his wife on her folly, but she saucily refused to alter her line of
conduct. But for the scandal of the thing Larcher would have forbidden
Jeringham the house; and, to mark his disapprobation, gave him the cold
shoulder on every occasion. Nevertheless, this inconvenient person
persisted in thrusting himself between husband and wife, to the anger of
the former and the delight of the latter. The introduction of this third
element only made matters worse.
The house was divided into camps, for Mona supported her mistress in her
frivolity, and, indeed, seemed herself to have an admiration for
handsome Mark Jeringham, who was very generous in money matters. Denis,
in whose eyes his master was perfect, hated the interloper as much as
Larcher, and loudly protested against the attention of Mona and his
mistress. Another friend who supported Larcher was Francis Hilliston,
then a gay young lawyer of thirty-five, who often paid a visit to
Horriston. He also frequented The Laurels, but was much disliked by Mrs.
Larcher, who greatly resented his loyal friendship for her husband.
Things were in this position on the 23d of June, 1866, when events
occurred which resulted in the murder of Captain Larcher, the
disappearance of Jeringham, and the arrest of Mrs. Larcher on a charge
of murder.
A masked ball in fancy dress was to be given at the Town Hall on that
night, and hither Mrs. Larcher was going as Mary, Queen of Scots,
accompanied by Jeringham in the character of Darnley. George Larcher
refused to be present, and went up to London on the night in question,
leaving his faithful friend Hilliston to look after his matrimonial
interests at the ball. Before he left a terrible scene took place
between himself and his wife, in which he forbade her to go to the
dance, but she defied him, and said she would go without his permission.
Whereupon Larcher left the house and went up to London, swearing that he
would never return until his wife asked his pardon and renounced the
friendship of Jeringham.
Now, here began the mystery which no one was able to fathom. Mrs.
Larcher went to the ball with Jeringham, and having, as she said to
Hilliston, who was also at the ball, enjoyed herself greatly, returned
home at three in the morning. The next day she was ill in bed, although
she had left the Town Hall in perfect health, and Mark Jeringham had
disappeared. Larcher was not seen in the neighborhood for five days, and
presumably was still in London; so during his absence Mrs. Larcher kept
her bed. Then his body, considerably disfigured, was found at the mouth
of the river Sarway, some four miles down. Curious to state it was
clothed in a fancy dress similar to that worn by Jeringham on the night
of the ball.
On the discovery of the body public curiosity was greatly excited, and a
thousand rumors flew from mouth to mouth. That a crime had been
committed no one doubted for a moment, as an examination proved that
George Larcher had been stabbed to the heart by some slender, sharp
instrument. The matter passed into the hands of the police, and they
paid a visit to The Laurels for the purpose of seeing what light Mrs.
Larcher could throw on the matter. At this awful period of her frivolous
life Francis Hilliston stood her friend, and it was he who interviewed
the officers of the law when they called.
Mrs. Larcher was still in bed, and, under the doctor's orders, refused
to rise therefrom, or to receive her visitors. She protested to
Hilliston, who in his turn reported her sayings to the police, that she
knew nothing about the matter. She had not seen her husband since he
left her on the 23d of June, and no one was more astonished or
horror-struck than she at the news of his death. According to her story
she had left the ball at three o'clock, and had driven to The Laurels
with Jeringham. He had parted from her at the door of the house, and had
walked back to Horriston. His reason for not entering, and for not using
the carriage to return, was that he did not wish to give color to the
scandal as to the relations which existed between them, which Mrs.
Larcher vowed and protested were purely platonic.
Furthermore, she asserted that her illness was caused by a discovery
which she had made on the night of the ball: that Mona Bantry was about
to become a mother, and to all appearance she believed that the father
of the coming child was none other than her husband. Far from thinking
that he had been murdered, she had been waiting for his return in order
to upbraid him for his profligacy, and to demand a divorce. Mona Bantry
had disappeared immediately after the discovery of her ruin, and Mrs.
Larcher professed that she did not know where she was.
This story, which was feasible enough, satisfied the police authorities
for the moment, and they retired, only to return three days later with a
warrant for the arrest of Mrs. Larcher. In the interval a dagger had
been found in the grounds of The Laurels, on the banks of the river,
and, as it was stained with blood and exactly fitted the wound, it was
concluded that with this weapon the crime had been committed. Inquiry
resulted in the information being obtained that Mrs. Larcher, in her
character of Mary, Queen of Scots, had worn this dagger on the night of
the ball. Hence it was evident, so said the police, that she had killed
her husband.
The theory of the police was that Captain Larcher had returned from
London on the night of the ball, and had witnessed the parting of his
wife and Jeringham at the door. Filled with jealous rage he had
upbraided his wife in the sitting room, the window of which looked out
on the cliff overhanging the river. In a moment of fury she had
doubtless snatched the dagger from her girdle and stabbed him to the
heart, then, terrified at what she had done, had thrown the body out of
the window, trusting that the stream would carry it away, and so conceal
her crime. This the river had done, for the body had been discovered
four miles down, where it had been carried by the current. As to the
dagger being in the grounds in place of the room, the police, never at a
loss for a theory, suggested that Mrs. Larcher had stolen out of the
house, and had thrown the dagger over the bank where it was subsequently
discovered.
Mrs. Larcher asserted her innocence, and reiterated her statement that
she had not seen her husband since the day of the ball. He had not
returned on that night, as the servants could testify. The only
domestics who had not retired to bed when she returned at three o'clock
were Mona and Denis. Of these the first had gone away to hide her shame,
and all inquiries and advertisements failed to find her. But at the
trial Denis--much broken down at the ruin of his sister--swore that
Captain Larcher had not returned from London on that evening, and that
Mrs. Larcher had gone straight to the sitting room, where she first made
the discovery of Mona's iniquity, and then had afterward retired to bed.
Mrs. Larcher asserted that the dagger had been lost by her at the ball,
and she knew not into whose hands it had fallen.
The trial, which took place at Canterbury, was a nine days' wonder, and
opinions were divided as to the guilt of the erring wife. One party held
that she had committed the crime in the manner stated by the police,
while the others asserted that Jeringham was the criminal, and had
disappeared in order to escape the consequences of his guilt.
"Doubtless," said they, "he had been met by Larcher after leaving the
house, and had killed him during a quarrel." The use of the dagger was
accounted for by these wiseacres by a belief that Mrs. Larcher had given
it to Jeringham as a love token when she parted from him at the door of
The Laurels.
The evidence of Denis, that he had been with or near Mrs. Larcher till
she retired to bed, and that the captain had not set foot in the house
on that evening, turned the tide of evidence in favor of the unfortunate
woman. She was acquitted of the crime, and went to London, but there
died--as appeared from the newspapers--a few weeks afterward, killed by
anxiety and shame.
The child Claude was taken charge of by Mr. Hilliston, who had been a
good friend to Mrs. Larcher during her troubles, and so the matter faded
from the public mind.
What became of Jeringham no one ever knew. His victim--as some supposed
Larcher to be--was duly buried in the Horriston Cemetery, but all the
efforts of the police failed to find the man who was morally, if not
legally, guilty of the crime. Denis also was lost in the London crowd,
and all those who had been present at the tragedy at The Laurels were
scattered far and wide. New matters attracted the attention of the
fickle public, and the Larcher affair was forgotten in due course.
The mystery was never solved. Who was guilty of the crime? That question
was never answered. Some accused Mrs. Larcher despite her acquittal and
death. Others insisted that Jeringham was the criminal; but no one could
be certain of the truth. Hilliston, seeing that Mr. and Mrs. Larcher
were dead, that Mona, Denis, and Jeringham had disappeared, wisely kept
the matter secret from Claude, deeming that it would be folly to disturb
the mind of the lad with an insoluble riddle of so terrible a nature. So
for five-and-twenty years the matter had remained in abeyance. Now it
seemed as though it were about to be reopened by Mrs. Bezel.
"And who--" asked Claude of himself, as he finished this history in the
gray dawn of the morning, "who is Mrs. Bezel?"
To say the least, he had a right to ask himself this question, for it
was curious that the name of Mrs. Bezel was not even mentioned in
connection with that undiscovered crime of five-and-twenty years before.