WAS SHE NEVER TO BE AT PEACE?
News of an unpleasant nature was on its way to Miss Davenal and Sara;
but they sat at breakfast unconscious of its nearness, waited upon by
Neal the immaculate, in all confiding security, and entirely
unsuspicious of that gentleman's desk researches of the previous
evening. A letter came in; it was directed to Miss Davenal in the
handwriting of Dr. Keen.
"What's a-gate now?" exclaimed Miss Davenal, as she opened it. For it
was not very usual for the doctor to write in the middle of a quarter.
"Dear Madam,--
"I grieve much to have to inform you that an accident has happened to
your nephew Leopold. It being a half-holiday yesterday afternoon
(granted, according to annual custom, on the auspicious occasion of
Mrs. Keen's birthday), the young gentlemen had leave accorded them to
go into the fields and gather blackberries. Engaged in this (hitherto
deemed harmless) recreation, Leopold unfortunately met with a fall. In
stretching up to reach a high branch, he lost his balance, and fell
from the top of a bank. I fear he may have been pushed, but the boys
appear not to be quite clear upon the point. At any rate, he fell in
some way with his arm doubled under him, and on examination it proved
to be broken.
"Deeply sorry as I am to be obliged to impart to you this sad news, I
can yet qualify it in some degree by stating that it is a simple
fracture. It was at once set, and the surgeon assures me it will do as
well as possible. Mrs. Keen bids me say that she does not think Master
Leopold has appeared very strong of late; I have remarked myself that
he looks delicate. Master Davenal, I am happy to say, is quite well,
and gives us every satisfaction in his studies, in which he takes
great pleasure.
"With very kind remembrances from Mrs. Keen to yourself and Miss Sara
Davenal, and best compliments from myself,--I remain, dear Madam,
faithfully yours, John Keen.
"Miss Davenal."
Miss Bettina gave the letter to her niece in an excess of vexation "If
that mischievous Dick was not at the bottom of it, I shall wonder!"
she exclaimed. "He pushed him off in his roughness. He _is_ rough."
Sara gathered in the words of the letter in silence, with strained
eyes and a beating heart.
"I'd have every blackberry-tree in the land rooted up, if I had my
will," proceeded Miss Bettina. "Boys are as venturesome as monkeys
when their mouths are in question. They don't care for their clothes
or how they get torn; they don't care for their shirtfronts or how
they get stained; they fight, and quarrel, and climb, and scratch
their hands and faces with the thorns, and all for greediness--that
they may fill themselves with those rubbishing berries. And now they
have caused this mischief! The boy's arm may be weak for life. Yes, if
I had the power, I'd destroy every blackberry-tree that grows. I
should think D. Keen will interdict 'blackberrying' for the future."
"I wonder how it happened?" said Sara, musingly.
"So do I," said Miss Bettina, in a tart tone. "One would think the
bank was as high as a house. They'd climb up a house, boys would, if
they thought they should find blackberries growing upon its roof. Ah,
never shall I forget--it has this moment recurred to my mind--Leo's
father coming home in a sorry plight when he was a boy. He went
blackberrying. He went without anybody's knowledge, too, and was
absent for hours, and we grew alarmed at home, as was natural, for he
was but a little fellow of eight. I remember my dear mother feared he
had fallen into some pond, but we children thought Johnny had gone
after the wild-beast caravan, which had been in the town exhibiting
two bears and an elephant. He arrived at home at dusk; and I'm sure he
looked more fit to belong to a caravan than to a gentleman's house.
His knees were out of his trousers, and his brown-holland blouse was
in flounces, and his shirt-frill had three hanging rents in it, and
his hair and face and hands were crimson with the stains, causing my
mother to cry out with fear at the first sight of him. To crown all,
he had filled his new straw hat with the blackberries, and the juice
was dropping through the crown! John does not forget that exploit, I
know, to this day. Your grandpapa gave him a sound whipping and sent
him to bed supperless; not so much for the plight he had put himself
into as for roaming out alone and frightening my dear mother. Johnny
was ill for three days afterwards with stomach-ache, from the quantity
he had devoured. _He_ remembers blackberrying, I know; and I should
think Mr. Leo will, after this."
"I hope his arm will soon be well!"
"Dr. Keen might have mentioned what surgeon was attending to it! if
Mark Cray had remained at Hallingham," continued Miss Bettina, very
sharply--for it was impossible for her to speak of that exit of Mark's
without sharpness--"he might have gone over by rail, and seen that it
was being properly----What do you say, Neal?"
Miss Bettina's interruption was caused by the entrance of Neal. Mrs.
Cray's maid had come round, and was waiting to speak to Miss Sara.
"Let her come in," said Miss Bettina.
The tone was as sharp a one as that just given to the absent Mark.
Caroline's maid, a remarkably fashionable damsel, did not reign in the
favour of Miss Bettina. She came in in obedience to orders; a pink
gauze bonnet on the back of her head, and a pair of dirty and very
tight straw-coloured gloves strained on her hands. Miss Bettina's
countenance lost none of its severity as she surveyed her.
"What do you want, Long?"
"If you please, mem, my message is to Miss Sara Davenal," returned
Long, pertly, for she did not like Miss Bettina any more than Miss
Bettina liked her.
"Tell it, then. Miss Sara Davenal's there, you see." Long fairly
turned her back on Miss Bettina as she delivered the message she was
charged with. She explained that Mr. Cray's mother and sisters had
arrived unexpectedly the previous night, and the object of her coming
round now was, to ask if Miss Sara Davenal would go out with Mrs. Cray
senior that morning.
"Arrived last night unexpectedly!" exclaimed Miss Bettina, who had
been bending her ear. "How many of them?"
"Four," replied Long. "Mrs. Cray and three Miss Crays."
"It's well the house is large! _I_ should not like to be taken by
storm in that way."
"I suppose I can go, aunt?"
"I suppose you can't refuse. What's it for? Where is she going?"
"Where is Mrs. Cray going, do you know, Long?" asked Sara.
"I believe she's only going shopping, miss," answered the girl, who
was always civil to Sara. "I heard her say she must get a bonnet, and
other things, before she could appear in London. My mistress has
promised to take the young ladies out, and she said perhaps you'd be
so good as accompany Mrs. Cray senior, as she does not know London."
"I don't think I know it much better than she does," observed Sara,
smiling. "But you can tell Mrs. Cray that I shall be happy to
accompany her, and to render her any service that I can. Oh, and,
Long, will you tell your mistress that we have received sad news from
Dr. Keen," she resumed, as the maid was turning away. "Poor little
Leopold has broken his arm."
"And that he did it scrambling after blackberries," indignantly added
Miss Bettina.
The maid departed, saying that Mrs. Cray senior would be round in the
course of the morning. Sara went up to the drawing-room, and opened
her letter-case, which she used sometimes instead of her desk. Her
first thought was to write a few words to poor Leo. But ere she began
she leaned her aching brow upon her hand; the vision she had seen at
the window of Bangalore Terrace, as they drove to Lady Reid's the
previous evening, had left its sting upon her brain.
A slight tap at the door, and Neal came in. He could not but note the
weary expression of her face as she looked up at him. He advanced to
the table, some papers in his hand, and spoke in a low voice as if
what he said was for her ear alone.
"The postman brought another letter, Miss Sara. It was enclosed in
this envelope addressed to me by Master Richard. Perhaps you would
like to see what he says." Neal was really honest in this. Possibly he
saw no opportunity to be otherwise. Sara, in some curiosity, took the
papers from Neal's hands. The whole lot was characteristic of Dick.
The envelope was addressed "Mr. Neal, at Miss Davenal's. Private," the
proper address of their residence being added. On opening it when
delivered to him by the postman, Neal had found it to contain a sealed
letter for Miss Sara Davenal and a scrap of paper evidently torn from
a copy-book for himself. On the latter he read the following lines,
and these he now showed to his young mistress.
"Dear Neal, give the note to my couzin Sara when nobodys buy and be
sure dont let aunt bett see it or therell be a row, R. D."
"Oh, thank you, Neal," she said heartily. But as the man left the room
and she broke the seal, a half-dread came over her of what it would
contain.
"Dear Sara,--
"The most horrid catastrofy has hapened, leo's gone and broke his arm,
and I want to tell you how it was done I must tell somebody or I shall
burst, leo's a brave littel chap and kept his mouth shut when old Keen
and the docter were asking questions and let him think it was through
the blackberys, we had half holliday it was Mrs. Keens berthday and we
went after the blackberys, this was yesterday afternoon, and about 6
of us, me and Jones and tom Keen and Halliday and leo and Thomson, if
you want to know which of us it was, where separated from the rest and
got into one of farmer clupp's feilds and what should we see but his
poney trying to nible at the short grass, we set up a shout, which
Halliday stoppt for fear of being heard, and caught him, and then
there was a shindy as to which 3 of us should have first ride, for we
were afraid thered not be time for the other three if the school came
up, and the under master dogskin (thats our name for him hes a sneek)
was with them, so to end the dispute we all 6 got on the poney and a
stunning gallopp we had only it was rather close to sit, well leo was
the hindmost and as he hadnt much beside the tail to sit on he fell
off but he must be a great duff for he had held on all round the feild
once, he says it was Jones moved and made him fall and tom Keen says
hes sure it was, for Jones who has got the longest legs kept jogging
them to make the poney go and he was next to leo and leo held on by
him, I was first and guided the poney and in taking the sweep round at
the turning leo shot off behind, his arm was doubled under him and a
soft duffer of an arm it must be for it took and broke, we didnt know
he was gone at first, Jones called out, young Davenal's off, but we
thought nothing and galloped all round the feild again, he was lying
there when we got back, and his face was white and we called to him
and he never answered so we stopt the poney and went to him, Jones
tried to pull him up and leo screamed, and halliday calls out Im blest
if I dont think hes hurt, leo began saying he hoped he wasnt kill'd,
you know what a regular little muff he is, we picked him up at last
and when we saw his arm hang down we were frightened above a bit, well
we didnt know what was to be done, we carried him into the next feild
where the poney wasnt, for fear of anybody suspecting and just as we
had laid him by the bank the rest of the fellows came down the lane
and saw us and tom keen called out that davenal junior was hurt, with
that they came up and Marsh (thats dogskin) looks up at the high bank
above leo and sees the blackberys growing atop of it and sings out to
leo, I know how this was done, you where on the top of that bank
trying to get blackberys beyond your reach and you fell off it, well
if you'll believe me sara we never told the story to say yes, only
Jones said says he I'm sure I dont know sir how ever he managed to
fall, and Marsh he thought he did fall off the bank and went off to
take the news to Keen, and us 6 all thought what a jolly chance it was
that we had happened to lay him down by the bank, and none of them
ever saw the poney, leo was carried home and Mrs. Keen she came out
with a face as white as his, tom how did it happen, says she laying
hold of tom, and we got affraid again, for toms uncomon fond of his
mother, but he didnt split, and then Keen came and the surjon came and
Keen he says to leo how _did_ you fall did any body push you off the
bank, no sir says leo, and the surjon he asked how t was done, and leo
shook like anything, and began to cry, afraid he should have to tell a
story at last which he cant bare, he was shut up in a room then with
the doctor and Keen and one or two more and we heard him cry out when
they were setting his arm, but you know what a baby he is poor little
chap and I wish with all my hart it had been me instead of him, the
worst is I should have lost my share of the supper and a jolly good
one they give us on her berthday every year, cakes and tarts and
pidjon pies and lots of things and we have to dress for it and a heap
of duffing girls come to it in white frocks but we dont mind em much,
and dear sara thats the whole facts of how it came about and I
couldn't write it truer if I were telling it to poor Uncle Richard
himself, leos all jolly this morning and he is in bed and has got no
lessons to do and he says I am to tell you that he'll never get on a
poney with 6 again and Mrs. Keens very kind to him, and Miss Keen
(shes the big one you know) is going to read him some storys, he says
I am to tell you it doesn't hurt much and oh sara there's only one
thing we are sorry for, that Uncle Richard isnt alive to cure him
because hed have him home to Hallingham to do it and perhaps me as
well and I should get a holliday from these horrid books, I shall send
this to neal for fear of aunt bett, and mind you hide it, and dont let
a sight of it reach her, we are aufully afraid of that about the poney
getting to old keens ears for thered be the dickens to pay, yours
affectionately
"DICK.
"p s leo sends his love and he hopes you wont be angry with him for
breaking his arm and I am writing this after school at twelve instead
of playing, Good buy."
Sara smiled, in spite of herself, as she folded up the letter. But she
thought it rather a wonder there had not been a few broken legs among
the "6," instead of one broken arm.
She got ready for Mrs. Cray, and went down to the dining-room. Miss
Bettina was gone out then. She took up a book, but had not been
looking at it many minutes when she saw Neal coming up the street
talking to a young person whose condition in life it was rather
difficult to guess. In these days of _dress_ it is difficult. She had
a pretty face, Sara could see that, though a veil covered it; her gown
was one of those called a "washing silk"--and very much "washed out"
it seemed to be; and a smart shawl, just flung on the shoulders,
trailed on the ground behind. But for this trailing shawl and a sort
of general untidiness, there would have been something superior about
the girl. In the face she looked like a lady, and Sara had seen many a
lady worse dressed.
Sara, behind the blind, could see them, but they could not see her.
Neal stood a moment at the door, and then looked down over the
railings of the area.
"Are the ladies out?" he asked.
"Yes," came back for answer in Dorcas's voice. The woman evidently did
not know that Miss Sara had not accompanied her mistress.
"You can come in then," Sara distinctly heard Neal say to the lady--if
lady she was. And he opened the door with his latch-key.
They stood talking in the passage for some little time in an
undertone, and then Neal took her into the back room. It opened to the
dining-room with folding-doors; but the doors were always kept closed:
and indeed the back room was chiefly used as Neal's pantry. Sara, who
at first had been doubtful whether it might not be a visitor to
herself, came to the conclusion that it was only a visitor to Neal,
and she resumed her reading.
But the voices grew rather louder; and the words "Captain Davenal"
caused her to look up with a start. No wonder she should start at that
name, remembering the past. A sudden fear same over her that something
or other connected with that past was again threatening her brother.
She could not hear more, for the voices dropped again to their covert
tone. Another minute, and Neal was conducting the stranger to the
front door.
"We shall hear more by the next mail; but there's not the slightest
doubt he's married," Sara heard him say as he passed the room. "The
lady is an heiress: a Miss Reid."
"Well," cried the other voice, "I'll have satisfaction. I'll have it
somehow. I don't care what punishment it brings him to, I'll have it."
The visitor went away. Neal closed the street-door upon her and turned
to behold his young mistress at that of the dining-room, a scared look
in her eyes, a white shade upon her face.
"Neal! what has that young "--Sara hesitated between the words
_person_ and _lady_, but chose the former--"person to do with Captain
Davenal?"
She had spoken without reflection in her impulse; in her renewed fear,
which she had deemed buried with the past. Neal for once in his life
was confounded. He did not speak immediately; he was probably striving
to recall what had been said, inconvenient for her to hear.
"Tell me at once, Neal; I insist on your speaking," she reiterated,
attributing his hesitation to unwillingness to speak. "Indeed it is
better that I should know it. What was she saying about my brother?"
That alarm of some nature had been aroused within her, that she was
painfully anxious, and that the alarm and anxiety were connected with
Captain Davenal, Neal could not fail to read. But his speech was
certainly less ready than usual, for he still kept silence.
"I heard you tell her that Captain Davenal was married; that further
news would be in by the next mail," pursued Sara, growing more
inwardly perturbed with every moment. "What was it to her? Who is she?
For what purpose did she come here? Neal, _can't_ you answer me?" and
her voice grew quite shrill with its alarm and pain.
"Miss Sara--if I hesitated to answer, it is that I do not like to
speak," he said at length. "I tell the young woman she must be
mistaken in what she says--that it _can't_ be. But she won't hear me."
"What is it that she says? Have you seen her before today?"
"She has been here once or twice before. But for understanding that
you and my mistress were out I should not have allowed her to come in
this time. I am very sorry that it should have happened, miss."
"But what _is_ it?" returned Sara, nearly wild with suspense. "What
has she come for?"
"She has come to ask questions about Captain Davenal."
"But _what_ about him? What is he to her?"
Neal coughed. He took out his handsome silk handkerchief--he always
used very handsome ones--and wiped his mouth. Sara trembled. His
manner was unpleasantly mysterious, and it seemed that she was on the
verge of hearing something terrible.
"Does she know my brother?"
"She says she does. Miss Sara, I would have given a great deal to
prevent this happening today. It will only worry you, and I daresay I
could still have put her off and kept her quiet."
"Neal, tell me the worst," she cried, her voice and heart alike
growing faint. "I must hear it now."
"Well, Miss Sara, she says she is the wife of Captain Davenal."
"She--says--she--is--the--wife--of--Captain Davenal!"
The words were echoed slowly in very astonishment, a pause between
each. Vague as her fears had been they had not touched on this.
"It is what she says, Miss Sara. I told her it must be one of two
things--either that she was deceiving me in saying it, or that she was
herself deceived. But she insists upon it that she is his true and
lawful wife; that she was married to him nearly twelve months before
he went abroad. She says my late master, Dr. Davenal, knew of it."
Sara stared at Neal in a sort of helpless manner. Never for a moment
did it occur to her to question the truth; her mind accepted it--a
terrible calamity; worse, it seemed in this moment, than all that had
gone before.
"She came here this morning in consequence of hearing of the Captain's
marriage to Miss Reid. I acknowledged that news had come home to that
effect. It would have been quite useless, you see, Miss Sara, to deny
what's known publicly."
"Neal! Neal! you will not mention this?" came the feverish wish, the
first uttered in her bewilderment. "You will guard it faithfully?
We--I--some one must see what can be done."
"You may entirely depend on me, Miss Sara," replied Neal, speaking
more impressively than was his wont--Neal the impassive. "Of course,
miss, the chief thing will be to guard against exposure."
Sara turned into the dining-room, mind and body alike sinking. A sick,
faint fear came over her that _this_ must be the secret connected with
her brother which had been disclosed that long past night to Dr.
Davenal. Another moment, and she did not see how that could be. There
would have been no _crime_ in it: Captain Davenal was not married
then. Her brain was in a chaos of perplexity, her mind agitated with
doubt. If this young woman--lady--whatever she might be--was Edward's
wife, how could he have married Rose Reid? Was it the money tempted
him? Calm, self-controlled though she was usually, a groan of despair
broke from her lips.
Neal in the back room thought she called him, and came round to the
dining-room door. She looked up as he stood there and stared at him,
just as though she had forgotten who he was.
"Did you call, Miss Sara?"
"I--I--I did not call. Neal--do you know--what the name is?--I
mean--what it _was?_"
"Yes, miss, I know so much as that. Catherine Wentworth."
He retired, leaving Sara alone. Almost a rebellious thought was
stealing over her--was she _never_ to be at rest? Not at much rest
just then certainly; for Mrs. Cray had driven to the door and was
asking for her.
Sara tied her bonnet mechanically and went out. Mrs. Cray was seated
in a fly. She would not alight then, she said: she had a great deal to
do. Sara stepped in. Mrs. Cray was an imperious-looking woman, fair
and pale, with a handsome face. Sara thought her over-dressed and very
fidgety. They were not much acquainted when at Hallingham.
"I have nothing to wear," she said to Sara. "I want a host of things.
A bonnet first. Mrs. Mark Cray has given me the address of a superior
dressmaker. She is a little selfish, is she not?"
"Who is?" cried Sara, in answer to the sentence, which came out rather
abruptly after the rest.
"Mrs. Mark Cray. To confess to you my opinion, I think she might have
lent me the carriage this morning, instead of sending me out in a
hired fly, and keeping the carriage for herself and the girls. It
seems to be the way of the world nowadays--the young before the old.
She is Mark's wife, and I am only his mother."
Whether Sara would have found a suitable answer is uncertain.
Something outside completely took away all thoughts of it. They were
at that moment passing the War Office; and, coming from it with an
angry and determined look upon her pretty face, was the person whom
she had just heard called Catherine Wentworth. Sara shrunk back in the
cab's corner, dismay on her countenance, dismay in her heart. Had she
_already_ denounced Captain Davenal at headquarters?
From milliners to linen-drapers, from linen-drapers to dressmakers,
one place after another continually, until Sara was tired to death,
the day wore away. The afternoon was getting on when the last
commission was done, and Mrs. Cray, who had put on the new bonnet just
bought, had leisure to think of the horse and driver.
"Poor things, they must want some repose," she remarked, as she came
out of the Pantheon. "Well, there's only one place more. Will you tell
the man, my dear?" she added as she got in. "Parliament Street. You
know the number, I suppose."
"What number?" inquired Sara. "Where to in Parliament Street?"
"To Mr. Oswald Cray's. Bracknell and Street, I think, is the name of
the firm."
"_There!_" returned Sara in her discomposure. "I can't go there."
"Not go there! My dear, I must go there. Mr. Oswald Cray is my
step-son. I shall call in for a minute to let him know I am in
London."
Opposition would be worse than acquiescence. Besides, what could be
her plea? Sara, all her pulses fluttering, spoke the address to the
driver, and took her place in silence opposite Mrs. Cray.