THE ALARM AT ANDERBURY.—THE SUSPICIONS OF THE BANNERWORTH FAMILY, AND
THE MYSTERIOUS COMMUNICATION.
About twenty miles to the southward of Bannerworth Hall was a
good-sized market-town, called Anderbury. It was an extensive and
flourishing place, and from the beauty of its situation, and its
contiguity to the southern coast of England, it was much admired; and,
in consequence, numerous mansions and villas of great pretension had
sprang up in its immediate neighbourhood.
Besides, there were some estates of great value, and one of these,
called Anderbury-on-the-Mount, in consequence of the mansion itself,
which was of an immense extent, being built upon an eminence, was to be
let, or sold.
This town of Anderbury was remarkable not only for the beauty of its
aspect, but likewise for the quiet serenity of its inhabitants, who
were a prosperous, thriving race, and depended very much upon their own
resources.
There were some peculiar circumstances why Anderbury-on-the-Mount was
to let. It had been for a great number of years in possession of a
family of the name of Milltown, who had resided there in great comfort
and respectability, until an epidemic disorder broke out, first among
the servants, and then spreading to the junior branches of the family,
and from them to their seniors, produced such devastation, that in the
course of three weeks there was but one young man left of the whole
family, and he, by native vigour of constitution, had baffled the
disorder, and found himself alone in his ancestral halls, the last of
his race.
Soon a settled melancholy took possession of him, and all that had
formerly delighted him now gave him pain, inasmuch as it brought to his
mind a host of recollections of the most agonising character.
In vain was it that the surrounding gentry paid him every possible
attention, and endeavoured to do all that was in their power to
alleviate the unhappy circumstances in which he was placed. If he
smiled, it was in a sad sort, and that was very seldom; and at length
he announced his intention of leaving the neighbourhood, and seeking
abroad, and in change of scene, for that solace which he could not
expect to find in his ancestral home, after what had occurred within
its ancient walls.
There was not a chamber but which reminded him of the past—there was
not a tree or a plant of any kind or description but which spoke to him
plainly of those who were now no more, and whose merry laughter had
within his own memory made that ancient place echo with glee, filling
the sunny air with the most gladsome shouts, such as come from the
lips of happy youth long before the world has robbed it of any of its
romance or its beauty.
There was a general feeling of regret when this young man announced the
fact of his departure to a foreign land; for he was much respected, and
the known calamities which he had suffered, and the grief under which
he laboured, invested his character with a great and painful interest.
An entertainment was given to him upon the eve of his departure, and
on the next day he was many miles from the place, and the estate of
Anderbury-on-the-Mount was understood to be sold or let.
The old mansion had remained, then, for a year or two vacant, for it
was a place of too much magnitude, and required by far too expensive an
establishment to keep it going, to enable any person whose means were
not very large to think of having anything to do with it.
So, therefore, it remained unlet, and wearing that gloomy aspect which
a large house, untenanted, so very quickly assumes.
It was quite a melancholy thing to look upon it, and to think what it
must have once been, and what it might be still, compared to what it
actually was; and the inhabitants of the neighbourhood had made up
their minds that Anderbury-on-the-Mount would remain untenanted for
many a year to come, and, perhaps, ultimately fall into ruin and decay.
But in this they were doomed to be disappointed, for, on the evening of
a dull and gloomy day, about one week after the events we have recorded
as taking place at Bannerworth Hall and its immediate neighbourhood, a
travelling carriage, with four horses and an out-rider, came dashing
into the place, and drew up at the principal inn in the town, which was
called the Anderbury Arms.
The appearance of such an equipage, although not the most unusual thing
in the world, in consequence of the many aristocratic families who
resided in the neighbourhood, caused, at all events, some sensation,
and, perhaps, the more so because it drove up to the inn instead of
to any of the mansions of the neighbourhood, thereby showing that the
stranger, whoever he was, came not as a visitor, but either merely
baited in the town, being on his road somewhere else, or had some
special business in it which would soon be learned.
The out-rider, who was in handsome livery, had gallopped on in advance
of the carriage a short distance, for the purpose of ordering the best
apartments in the inn to be immediately prepared for the reception of
his master.
“Who is he?” asked the landlord.
“It’s the Baron Stolmuyer Saltsburgh.”
“Bless my heart, I never heard of him before; where did he come
from—somewhere abroad I suppose?”
“I can’t tell you anything of him further than that he is immensely
rich, and is looking for a house. He has heard that there is one to let
in this immediate neighbourhood, and that’s what has brought him from
London, I suppose.”
“Yes, there is one; and it is called Anderbury-on-the-Mount.”
“Well, he will very likely speak to you about it himself, for here he
comes.”
By this time the carriage had halted at the door of the hotel, and, the
door being opened, and the steps lowered, there alighted from it a tall
man attired in a kind of pelisse, or cloak, trimmed with rich fur, the
body of it being composed of velvet. Upon his head he wore a travelling
cap, and his fingers, as he grasped the cloak around him, were seen to
be covered with rings of great value.
Such a personage, coming in such style, was, of course, likely to
be honoured in every possible way by the landlord of the inn, and
accordingly he was shown most obsequiously to the handsomest apartment
in the house, and the whole establishment was put upon the alert to
attend to any orders he might choose to give.
He had not been long in the place when he sent for the landlord,
who, hastily scrambling on his best coat, and getting his wife to
arrange the tie of his neckcloth, proceeded to obey the orders of his
illustrious guest, whatever they might chance to be.
He found the Baron Stolmuyer reclining upon a sofa, and having
thrown aside his velvet cloak, trimmed with rich fur, he showed that
underneath it he wore a costume of great richness and beauty, although,
certainly, the form it covered was not calculated to set it off to any
great advantage, for the baron was merely skin and bone, and looked
like a man who had just emerged from a long illness, for his face was
ghastly pale, and the landlord could not help observing that there was
a strange peculiarity about his eyes, the reason of which he could not
make out.
“You are the landlord of this inn, I presume,” said the baron, “and,
consequently, no doubt well acquainted with the neighbourhood?”
“I have the honour to be all that, sir. I have been here about sixteen
years, and in that time I certainly ought to know something of the
neighbourhood.”
“’Tis well; some one told me there was a little cottage sort of place
to let here, and as I am simple and retired in my habits I thought that
it might possibly suit me.”
“A little cottage, sir! There are certainly little cottages to let,
but not such as would suit you; and if I might have presumed, sir, to
think, I should have considered Anderbury-on-the-Mount, which is now
to let, would have been the place for you. It is a large place, sir,
and belonged to a good family, although they are now all dead and gone,
except one, and it’s he who wants to let the old place.”
“Anderbury-on-the-Mount,” said the baron, “was the name of the place
mentioned to me; but I understood it was a little place.”
“Oh! sir, that is quite a mistake; who told you so? It’s the largest
place about here; there are a matter of twenty-seven rooms in it, and
it stands altogether upon three hundred acres of ground.”
“And have you the assurance,” said the baron, “to call that anything
but a cottage, when the castle of the Stolmuyers, at Saltzburgh, has
one suite of reception rooms thirty in number, opening into each other,
and the total number of apartments in the whole building is two hundred
and sixty, it is surrounded by eight miles of territory.”
“The devil!” said the landlord. “I beg your pardon, sir, but when I am
astonished, I generally say the devil. They want eight hundred pounds a
year for Anderbury-on-the-Mount.”
“A mere trifle. I will sleep here to-night, and in the morning I will
go and look at the place. It is near the sea?”
“Half a mile, sir, exactly, from the beach; and one of the most curious
circumstances of all connected with it is, that there is a subterranean
passage from the grounds leading right away down to the sea-coast. A
most curious place, sir, partly cut out of the cliff, with cellars in
it for wine, and other matters, that in the height of summer are kept
as cool as in the deep winter time. It’s more for curiosity than use,
such a place; and the old couple, that now take care of the house, make
a pretty penny, I’ll be bound, though they won’t own it, by showing
that part of the place.”
“It may suit me, but I shall be able to give a decisive answer when
I see it on the morrow. You will let my attendants have what they
require, and see that my horses be well looked to.”
“Certainly, oh! certainly, sir, of course; you might go far, indeed,
sir, before you found an inn where everything would be done as things
are done here. Is there anything in particular, sir, you would like for
dinner?”
“How can I tell that, idiot, until the dinner time arrives?”
“Well, but, sir, in that case, you know, we scarcely know what to do,
because you see, sir, you understand——”
“It is very strange to me that you can neither see nor understand your
duty. I am accustomed to having the dinner tables spread with all that
money can procure; then I choose, but not before, what it suits me to
partake of.”
[Illustration: The baron meets with the landlord.]
“Well, sir, that is a very good way, and perhaps we ain’t quite so used
to that sort of thing as we ought to be in these parts; but another
time, sir, we shall know better what we are about, without a doubt, and
I only hope, sir, that we shall have you in the neighbourhood for a
long time; and so, sir, putting one thing to another, and then drawing
a conclusion from both of them, you see, sir, you will be able to
understand.”
“Peace! begone! what is the use of all this bellowing to me—I want it
not—I care not for it.”
The baron spoke these words so furiously, that the landlord was rather
terrified than otherwise, and left the room hastily, muttering to
himself that he had never come across such a tiger, and wondering where
the baron could have possibly come from, and what amount of wealth he
could be possessed of, that would enable him to live in such a princely
style as he mentioned.
If the Baron Stolmuyer of Saltzburgh had wished ever so much to impress
upon the minds of all persons in the neighbourhood the fact of his
wealth and importance, he could not have adopted a better plan to
accomplish that object than by first of all impressing such facts upon
the mind of the landlord of the Anderbury Arms, for in the course of
another hour it was tolerably well spread all over the town, that never
had there been such a guest at the Anderbury Arms; and that he called
Anderbury-on-the-Mount, with all its rooms—all its outbuildings, and
its three hundred acres of ground, a cottage.
This news spread like wildfire, awaking no end of speculation, and
giving rise to the most exaggerated rumours, so that a number of
persons came to the inn on purpose to endeavour to get a look at
the baron; but he did not stir from his apartments, so that these
wondermongers were disappointed, and even forced to go away as wise as
they came; but in the majority of cases they made up their minds that
in the morning they should surely be able to obtain a glimpse of him,
which was considered a great treat, for a man with an immense income is
looked upon in England as a natural curiosity.
The landlord took his guest at his word as regards the dinner, and
provided such a repast as seldom, indeed, graced the board at the
Anderbury Arms—a repast sufficient for twenty people, and certainly
which was a monstrous thing to set before one individual.
The baron, however, made no remark, but selected a portion from some
of the dishes, and those dishes that he did select from, were of the
simplest kind, and not such as the landlord expected him to take, so
that he really paid about one hundred times the amount he ought to have
done for what actually passed his lips.
And then what a fidget the landlord was in about his wines, for he
doubted not but such a guest would be extremely critical and hard to
please; but, to his great relief, the baron declined taking any wine,
merely washing down his repast with a tumbler of cool water; and then,
although the hour was very early, he retired at once to rest.
The landlord was not disposed to disregard the injunction which the
baron had given him to attend carefully on his servants and horses,
and after giving orders that nothing should be stinted as regarded
the latter, he himself looked to the creature-comforts of the former,
and he did this with a double motive, for not only was he anxious to
make the most he could out of the baron in the way of charges, but he
was positively panting with curiosity to know more about so singular
a personage, and he thought that surely the servants must be able to
furnish him with some particulars regarding their eccentric master.
In this, however, he was mistaken, for although they told him all they
knew, that amounted to so little as really not to be worth the learning.
They informed him that they had been engaged all in the last week, and
that they knew nothing of the baron whatever, or where he came from, or
what he was, excepting that he paid them most liberal wages, and was
not very exacting in the service he required of them.
This was very unsatisfactory, and when the landlord started on a
mission, which he considered himself bound to perform, to a Mr. Leek,
in the town, who had the letting of Anderbury-on-the-Mount, he was
quite vexed to think what a small amount of information he was able to
carry to him.
“I can tell him,” he said to himself as he went quickly towards the
agent’s residence; “I can tell him the baron’s name, and that in the
morning he wants to look at Anderbury-on-the-Mount; but that’s all I
know of him, except that he is a most extraordinary man—indeed, the
most extraordinary that I ever came near.”
Mr. Leek, the house agent, notwithstanding the deficiency of the facts
contained in the landlord’s statement, was well enough satisfied to
hear that any one of apparent wealth was inquiring after the large
premises to let, for, as he said truly to the landlord,—
“The commission on letting and receiving the rentals of such a property
is no joke to me.”
“Precisely,” said the landlord. “I thought it was better to come and
tell you at once, for there can be no doubt that he is enormously rich.”
“If that be satisfactorily proved, it’s of no consequence what he is,
or who he is, and you may depend I shall be round to the inn early in
the morning to attend upon him; and in that case, perhaps, if you have
any conversation with him, you will be so good as to mention that I
will show him over the premises at his own hour, and you shall not be
forgotten, you may depend, if any arrangement is actually come to. It
will be just as well for you to tell him what a nice property it is,
and that it is to be let for eight hundred a year, or sold outright for
eight thousand pounds.”
“I will, you may depend, Mr. Leek. A most extraordinary man you will
find him; not the handsomest in the world, I can tell you, but handsome
is as handsome does, say I; and, if he takes Anderbury-on-the-Mount, I
have no doubt but he will spend a lot of money in the neighbourhood,
and we shall all be the better of that, of course, as you well know,
sir.”
This then was thoroughly agreed upon between these high contracting
powers, and the landlord returned home very well satisfied, indeed,
with the position in which he had put the affair, and resolved upon
urging on the baron, as far as it lay within his power so to do,
to establish himself in the neighbourhood, and to allow him to be
purveyor-in-general to his household, which, if the baron continued in
his liberal humour, would be unquestionably a very pleasant post to
occupy.