LADY EVELYN RETURNS
Mr. Griggs, the butler at Melbourne Hall, had just fallen asleep after
a second glass of his master's unimpeachable port, when a footman
knocked softly upon the door of his pantry and informed him that he was
the proud owner of a telegram.
"For you, sir, and the boy's a-waitin' for a hanswer."
Mr. Griggs, who had been dreaming of a rich uncle in Australia, and of
the fortune this worthy had bequeathed to him (by which he would set up
a public-house in Moretown and acquire a masterly reputation), murmured
softly, "No jugs in the private bar," and awoke immediately in that
state of irritable stupor which even a moderate allowance (and Mr.
Griggs' glasses were true bumpers) of ancient port may provoke.
"Whatever do you want, comin' creeping in here like a fox with the
gout?" he asked angrily; "is the 'ouse on fire or is Partigan took with
the hysterics? Whatever is it, James?"
"It's a telegrarf," replied James loftily; "perhaps you're a little
'ard of 'earing after port wine, Mr. Griggs. The boy's a-settin' on
the step whistlin' airs. I'll tell him to come in if you like----"
Griggs looked a little sheepishly at the bottle before him, and
prudently offered James a glass.
"Them boys is born in a hurry and that's how they'll die, James. Just
take a mouthful of that wine. I'm sampling it for the guvner. This'll
be from him, no doubt."
To do the excellent man justice, it must be admitted that he had been
sampling that particular wine during the last twenty years, and still
found it necessary to continue his task before he could give a definite
opinion. The telegram was another matter. Mr. Griggs read it by the
aid of an immense pair of horn-rimmed spectacles, and, having read it,
he uttered that exclamation he was wont to employ only upon the very
greatest occasions.
"God bless my poor old gray hairs if her ladyship ain't returning this
very evening. Whatever can have put it into her wicked little head to
do that? Derby station at eleven-forty, and Fletcher gone haymaking to
Matlock. I shouldn't wonder if the beast had been drinking," he added
pompously.
James, the footman, admitted that it was very embarrassing.
"I've lived in many families, Mr. Griggs," he said, "and a deal of
human nater I've learned. But this 'ere family is wholly a
masterpiece. Your good health, sir, and I'm sure I wish you blessings."
"It's easier to wish 'em than to bring 'em," replied the philosopher
Griggs. "Where's Partigan now and what's she doing?"
"She's a-participatin' in the Floral fete at the Bath-Dianner in a
motor-car or something of that sort."
"She went over with Fletcher, no doubt. That's how his lordship's
interests are served in his absence. Is Molly in the 'ouse, James?"
"She was takin' her singin' lesson from the horganist of Moretown half
an hour ago."
"Let her sing upstairs with the warmin' pan, and quick about it too. I
suppose the shuffer's not in?"
"Gone to Derby to see Mr. Wilson Barrett eat up by lions----"
"Then we'll have to send Williams, the groom, and make a tale. Lord,
what a 'ouse to look after. I feel sometimes as such responsibulness
will break me up into small coal, James. Just ring that bell and send
Molly here. I'll give her a singin' lesson as she won't soon forget."
There never was such a ringing of bells, certainly never such a
scampering of overfed menials as the next hour witnessed at the Manor.
Hither and thither they went: Molly up the stairs to look out the
sheets, Williams, the groom, to get the single brougham ready, James to
set the boudoir straight ("with me own 'ands I done it," he said to
Partigan, the lady's maid, afterwards, as though ordinary he did it
with other people's hands, which was a true word), Griggs to put away
his decanter and enter the kitchen in mighty splendor. Not only this,
but stable-boys upon bicycles went flying off to Matlock and Derby to
bear the tidings to the absentees.
"Her ladyship a-comin' home," said Partigan when she heard it; "well,
that do beat the best!"
"I've always said," Griggs remarked to James, when the first moments of
agitation had passed, "I've always said the Lady Evelyn isn't ordinary.
Just look at the antics she'd be a-doin' by herself when she thought no
one was lookin' at her in the park. Carrying on like a play actress,
she was, and me hidin' behind a tree, mortal feared of her throwin' of
herself into my arms by mistake. What his lordship would say if I told
him of this 'ere, the cherubims above us only knows, James."
"You surely ain't goin' to tell him, Mr. Griggs?"
Griggs tapped his breast with a heavy fist that seemed to make a drum
of it.
"A lady's secret--they'd have to cut it out of my bussum, James."
"Then you don't think, perhaps, as she's been staying with Miss
Forrester at all?"
This, however, was the beginning of a suggestion which the worthy
Griggs would not tolerate at all from one he styled a menial.
"What I think is my own affair. Take my advice and hold your tongue,
James. When you get to my time of life you'll know that the less you
say about the ladies the better for your good health. Go and get the
dining-room ready. She'll be in a rare tantrum when she comes back.
They always are when they've been up in London enjoyin' of theirselves.
His lordship himself is good cayenne after a week on the Continent.
It's enough to make a man take to drink almost."
The reservation was wise, for certainly Mr. Griggs had "almost" taken
to drink on many occasions, stopping at the second bottle on a
benevolent plea of moderation. This particular occasion, however, was
not to prove one for extreme remedies as subsequent events quickly
demonstrated. Having seen that all had been prepared, both within and
without the house, he composed himself to a comfortable nap in his
arm-chair and again had begun to dream of a rich uncle in Australia
(whose continued good health he found most provoking), when a loud
ringing of bells and a sound of voices in the quadrangle instantly
brought him to a state of recollection, and he sat bolt upright and
stared wildly at the grandfather's clock in the corner of his pantry as
though its fingers reproached his tardiness.
"A quarter to two o'clock. God bless my poor old head. It must be her
ladyship. A quarter to two o'clock. What would her father say to it?"
It was her ladyship, as he said--very tired, very pale, strangely
quiet, and with frightened eyes, such as neither Griggs nor anyone in
that house had looked upon before. Amazed to see her, dressed in no
way for travelling, carrying no other luggage than the purse in her
hand, the old butler simply stared as he would have stared at any bogey
of Melbourne come suddenly upon him in the witching hours.
"I welcome your ladyship home," he stammered, looking anything but a
welcome from his inquiring eyes, and then, most inaptly, he continued:
"The trains is very late for the time of year, I must say, my lady."
Lady Evelyn merely said:
"Yes, I am dreadfully late, Griggs. Don't let anyone be disturbed. I
could not touch anything to-night. My luggage is to be forwarded from
London. Please see that everything is locked up. I am going straight
to my room, and shall not want anything at all."
Griggs did not really know what to make of it.
"She was as white as a sheet," he told the kitchen afterwards, "and she
asked me to lock up the 'ouse. Now, am I in the 'abit of leavin' the
doors open or do I see 'em shut regular? Mark my words, Partigan,
there's something more than her luggage she's left in London, and the
sooner his lordship takes it out of the cloakroom the better."
Here was something to set the servants' hall by the ears beyond
possibility of discretion. Williams, the groom, who had driven her
ladyship home, added an ingredient to the sauce of their curiosity
which proved appetizing beyond measure.
"There was a young man at the station wot kept hopping about us just
like a 'oss about a hayrick," said he. "I could see she didn't want to
take much notice on him, but what was I to do? If he'd have opened his
lips, I could have given him something for hisself. But he didn't say
nothing to nobody and all she says was, 'Drive on at once, Williams,
and don't stop for anyone.' Be sure I made the old 'oss slip it. He
come along for all the world as though he were riding to 'ounds and me
in the first flight."
Williams, be it observed, had not exaggerated at all. There had been a
young man at the station and Lady Evelyn had been very frightened by
him. What is more remarkable is the fact that she was perfectly well
aware of his identity and knew him beyond a shadow of doubt for the
apparent nonagenarian who had been so persistent at St. Pancras. That
white-haired old man and the youth who appeared before her suddenly at
her journey's end were certainly one and the same person. The only
conclusion possible was this, that she had been watched closely in
London and followed thence.
"It must be Count Odin," she said to herself, and upon this she tried
to reason out a secret of which the key lay far from her possession.
Why should the man have been at such pains to follow her if he knew her
father's name, as he pretended he did? It never occurred to her
untrained mind that a foreigner recently arrived from Bukharest might
be quite unaware of the identity of Robert Forrester and altogether
ignorant of the fact that he was Robert Forrester no longer, but had
become, by a strange accident of fortune, the third Earl of Melbourne,
Baron Norton, and heaven and Burke know what besides. Here had been
the Count's difficulty. He had searched every directory in vain for
the whereabouts of a man he had now made it his life's purpose to
discover. Knowing scarcely anyone in London, and having no particular
desire to declare his presence to the Roumanian _charge d'affaires_,
his quest had been profitless until chance brought him face to face
with the Lady Evelyn in the Strand. Instantly he had resolved never to
lose sight of her until he had discovered Robert Forrester's house, and
had asked of him that question the answer to which should tell him if
his own father were alive or dead.
The Lady Evelyn, upon her part, had no share of the story, save that
which her own eyes and the Count's brief words had told her. He had
spoken in London of her father, it is true; but there had been no
betrayal of a warm anxiety to meet him, nor had he mentioned the name
except as a passport to Evelyn's confidence. The fact that she had
been followed from town to Derbyshire disquieted her exceedingly by the
very pains which had been taken to conceal it. No longer could she
believe that Count Odin had been fascinated by her acting and had
foolishly fallen in love with her. Something lay beyond, and her
clever brain divined it to be a thing dangerous both to her father and
to herself.
So it was not Etta Romney but my Lady Evelyn, grave and stately, and
dreadfully afraid of her own secret and of another's, who returned to
Melbourne Hall, and, declining the attentions of her servants, went
straight up to her bedroom, but not to sleep. Whatever danger
threatened her must speedily declare itself, she thought. It was even
possible that the morrow would bring it to her doors.
And if it came, her father would know that Etta Romney had been
"presented" by Mr. Charles Izard at a London theatre and that she was
his daughter.
He would never forgive her, she thought. It might even be that he
would call her his daughter no more.