A STRANGE DISCOVERY
"You will have to make up your mind what you intend to do, my dear,"
said Mrs. Fane to her sister, "for I may tell you that Walter and I
have arranged to make a change."
"In what way?" asked Laura, looking up from her sewing.
Mrs. Fane did not answer directly. She looked round the cosy
morning-room, with rather a wistful expression. It was a very charming
room, decorated in the fashion of a quaint, old parlour. In such an
apartment might Jane Austen's heroines have sat, and the two ladies in
modern dresses looked rather out of place. Mrs. Fane was tall and
statuesque, with a placid, firm face, beautiful but cold. Her eyes
were calm; she had none of those wrinkles which show the indulgence of
emotion, and an earthquake would have failed to upset her eternal
self-possession. Occupied in knitting a fleecy shawl, she scarcely
lifted her eyes as she spoke, but continued to work placidly, never
dropping a single stitch. There never was a woman who had herself so
much under control as Mrs. Fane. Laura often wondered how she came to
marry an excitable, vivacious man like Walter. But perhaps the
exception to the law that like draws to like drew them together, and
Mrs. Fane found in her husband, whose nature was so totally opposed to
her own, the complement of herself.
The sisters resembled one another very little: Mrs. Fane was dark and
tall, Laura slight and fair. Laura laughed when she was amused, showed
anger when she felt it, and indulged unrestrained in her emotions,
though she never exceeded them. She was as open in her disposition as
Mrs. Fane was secretive. A glance would reveal Laura's thoughts, but
no scrutiny would show what Mrs. Fane had in her mind. Both of them
were plainly dressed, but Laura indulged in a few more trimmings than
her sister. Mrs. Fane might have been a lady abbess, from the severity
of her black garb. And a very good abbess she would have made, only
the nuns under her charge would have been controlled with a rod of
iron. She had no weaknesses herself, and had no patience with them in
others. Not even pain appealed to her, for she had never been ill.
Toothache was unknown to her; headaches she had never experienced; and
she seemed to move amongst less favoured mortals like a goddess,
majestic, unfeeling, and far removed from the engaging weaknesses of
human nature. Mrs. Fane, by reason of this abnormal severity, was not
popular.
To make a happy marriage, either the man or the woman must rule. If
both have strong wills, separation or divorce is the only remedy to
avert an unhappy life. If the man is strong, he controls the woman; if
the woman has the will, she guides the man; and thus with no divided
kingdom, the domestic life can be fairly happy, in some cases
completely so.
When Mrs. Fane--Julia Mason she was then--determined to marry Walter,
she also determined to have her own way. He was as weak as she was
strong, therefore he did exactly as she ordered him. But she always
gave him the outward rule, and, so to speak, only instructed him
behind the scenes how he was to act on the stage of the world. People
said that Mr. and Mrs. Fane were a happy pair, but they never knew the
real reason of such happiness. Mrs. Fane concealed the iron hand in a
velvet glove. Occasionally Walter proved restive, but she always
managed by a quiet determination to bring him again into subjection.
It may also be stated that she cherished a secret contempt that he
should thus give in to her, although such yielding formed the basis of
her ideal marriage. Only Laura knew how Mrs. Fane despised her
husband; but since she was living with the pair, she was wise enough
to keep this knowledge secret. Otherwise, Mrs. Fane would have made
herself disagreeable, and she had a large capacity for rendering the
house too hot for any one she disliked. Witness the expulsion of two
servants who had served Fane when he was a bachelor, and who were
discharged in the most polite way two months after Mrs. Fane came to
live at Ajax Villa.
This domestic Boadicea looked round the room vaguely, and then brought
her eyes back to the pretty, anxious face of Laura. She had a poor
opinion of Laura, and always strove to impose her will on her. But
Laura had her own ideas of life, and resented Julia's interference.
There was but little love between the sisters, and this was entirely
due to Julia's domineering temper. Not that the two ever fought. Mrs.
Fane would not fight. She simply held out till she got her own way,
and thus was usually successful with Walter. But Laura, made of
sterner stuff, managed to hold her own, a firm quality which annoyed
Julia, who liked people to grovel at her feet. She was a domestic
tyrant of the worst.
Outside the sun was shining, and its rays penetrated even into the
room. Mrs. Fane sat in a flood of gold, but was as unwarmed thereby as
the statue of a goddess. Even the tragedy which had happened lately
left but few traces of annoyance on her placid brow. Now that the
unknown woman was buried, and the papers had ceased to interest
themselves in the matter, she apparently dismissed it from her mind.
Secretly she was annoyed with Laura because the girl had insisted on
changing her bedroom. "I am not going to sleep in a room in which that
body was laid out," said Laura. And it was on this hint that Mrs. Fane
framed her reply.
"I wonder at you asking in what way we intend to make a change," she
said in her cold voice, "seeing that you changed your room."
"Oh; you find the villa disagreeable after this tragedy?"
"I do not. So far as I am concerned, I should not mind living here for
the rest of my days. I like the house and the neighbourhood, and
especially do I like the White Room----"
"The very place where the poor creature was killed said Laura, with a
shudder, which made Mrs. Fane smile.
"My dear, what does that matter? Death is death, however it comes, as
you ought to know. If a murder took place in every room in the house I
should not mind."
"Would you like it to take place in the nursery?" asked Laura.
Here she touched Mrs. Fane on a raw spot. If there was one thing the
self-possessed woman loved it was her little daughter. That she was
annoyed showed itself by the slight flush which crimsoned her face.
"You shouldn't say such things, my dear," she said in icy tones; "of
course I except the nursery. An atmosphere of crime would not be
conducive to the health of Minnie. But as I was saying, Walter wishes
to give up the house."
"You said nothing of the sort," said Laura, irritated.
"I say it now, then. Walter wishes to go abroad."
"What about the business?"
Mrs. Fane raised her perfectly marked eyebrows. "Well, what about it,
Laura? You know Walter is often away for weeks yachting. Times and
seasons make no difference to him, so far as his love of the sea is
concerned. Frederick says"--Frederick Mason was her brother--"that
Walter is of very little use in the office."
"I wonder he keeps him, then," said Laura.
"There is no question of keeping," replied Mrs. Fane serenely; "you
speak of Walter as though he were an office-boy. He is a partner,
remember, and I do his business for him."
"I don't quite understand."
"It's very simple, Laura. Walter, as you know, brought very little
money into the business. He seems to have spent what he had, or the
greater part, in furnishing this house for me."
"It was furnished before you and he became engaged."
"That is true. But I saw what was coming a long time before Walter
asked me to be his wife. He hinted that he was furnishing a house
here, and how he was spending money on it. I then knew that he
intended to make me his wife, and I determined to accept him. Not that
I loved him over much," added Mrs. Fane quietly, "but I was anxious to
have a say in the business. Frederick is a fool; and unless the
business is looked after, it will go to ruin. As the wife of one of
the partners, I am able to take a part in the conduct of the
business."
"You could have done so without marrying," said Laura.
Mrs. Fane shook her head.
"No. Father left you an income of five hundred a year, but he left me
much more, because he knew that I would make good use of it. The money
which came to me, and your principal, were not invested in the
business. I asked Frederick to let me become his partner. He refused.
Then I engaged myself to Walter, who became a partner with my money.
Frederick is willing, seeing that Walter is not a good business man,
to let me act for my husband. I dare say he could have permitted this
without the marriage, but he would not for some reason. However, you
know now why I married Walter. Besides, Walter is a fool, and I wished
to have a weak husband, so that I might control him."
"Was there no love at all in the marriage?"
"Well, my dear"--Mrs. Fane laughed--"I must confess that Walter is
very good-looking, and that I should be jealous of his attention to
any other woman. Are you answered?"
"Yes--so far as the love is concerned. But I don't understand how
Walter can go abroad and leave the business."
"He is not much use. I can look after it for him, as I have always
done. Do you think I should let Walter go away yachting if I did not
like a free hand? He is happy on the sea, and I am happy in the
counting-house, so all is well. This villa has become objectionable to
Walter on account of the murder, so we intend to give it up. Probably
we shall move to a French watering-place or to Switzerland. Walter can
enjoy himself in his usual way, and I can run over when needful to
attend to the business."
"I understand. But if you make your home in Switzerland, you will be
far from London. Also, Walter will not be able to yacht."
"True enough. We shall see. I must be near England, so that I can run
across rapidly, and Walter must be near the sea, for his beloved boat.
If I allow Frederick to conduct the business without help, I am sure
he will ruin it and me too."
"I wonder you like Walter to remain away for so long, Julia."
"My dear, I have perfect confidence in him."
"But if you loved him----"
"I would keep him by me. Well, I do love him in a way, though he is
too weak to command my respect. But Walter is one of those
demonstrative men who are a nuisance to a woman of my temperament. He
wants to kiss and caress all day long. I find that trying, so I prefer
him to go away occasionally. And now you know what we intend to do,
what about yourself?"
"Am I not to go with you?"
"If you like. But you are getting older, and, I must confess, that as
you have an income of your own, I think you should have a home."
"I see"--Laura looked directly at her sister--"you wish to get rid of
me."
"Oh no," replied Mrs. Fane in quite a conventional way; "you are a
very good companion for Walter, and he is fond of you in his weak way.
As you don't trouble me, I shall be pleased to have you with us
abroad. But I think it right to give you the choice."
"Of going with you as the fifth wheel on the chariot----"
"Or marrying," said Mrs. Fane calmly--"yes. That is what I mean."
"Suppose I do neither. I have my own money. I might go and live with
Gerty Baldwin."
"You might," assented the elder sister, "if you like to live in a
pig-sty with that lymphatic woman, who is more like a jelly than a
human being."
"There's no harm in her," protested Laura.
"Nor is there in a pig. But I don't care to live with a pig. As to
Gerty Baldwin, she is a fast young minx, engaged to a vulgarian."
"Mr. Tracey is a kindhearted man."
"But vulgar. And Gerty?"
"The dearest girl in the world."
Mrs. Fane again lifted her eyebrows.
"I confess I don't care for people of that sort."
"Do you care for any one but yourself?" asked Laura bitterly.
"I care for Minnie, and a little for Walter," said Mrs. Fane, "but the
ordinary human being does not seem worthy of being liked."
"You condemn the world as though you were its judge and not its
denizen," said Laura, with a curled lip and flashing eyes. "Julia, you
were always a hard woman. Your nature is like our father's."
"Quite so, and for that reason he left me most of the money. You and
Frederick take after our late mother. A kind woman, but so weak! Oh,
dear me," sighed Mrs. Fane; "how very weak!"
"Laura felt inclined to walk out of the room. But she knew that such
behaviour would result in nothing. Mrs. Fane would show no anger, but
would simply attack Laura on the subject uppermost in her mind when
they again met. The subject was Laura's future, so the girl thought it
best to bring the matter to an issue.
"Does all this mean that you withdraw your opposition to my marriage
with Arnold?"
"No. I still think the match is a bad one. But if you are determined
to commit social suicide, I will not hinder you. Down at Westcliff I
considered the matter, and resolved to tell you this when I returned.
Of course this murder brings the matter still more to the front, since
it makes us give up the villa. You must decide whether to come with
us, or to marry Mr. Calvert, and take your own life on your own
shoulders."
"We can settle that later. When do you go?"
"In three or four months. We have to get rid of the lease of the
villa, you see, and there are other things to be considered. Have you
accepted Mr. Calvert's hand?"
"Yes. We are engaged."
Mrs. Fane shrugged her ample shoulders.
"Fancy marrying an actor, and a mediocre actor at that! Why, the man
can't keep you."
"I have money enough for us both."
"Oh, I am quite sure that he will live on you, my dear. Why hasn't he
been to see you lately?"
Laura rose to her feet.
"Because I asked him not to come," she said distinctly. "You have been
so disagreeable to him that, for the sake of peace, I thought it best
he should not visit me."
"You saw him when you were at the Baldwins'?"
"Several times."
"Oh indeed!" sneered Mrs. Fane; "and when do you marry?"
"When we choose. Arnold is an actor and----"
"A perfect stick," said Mrs. Fane derisively.
"A fine actor, as every one acknowledges. He will make his mark."
"There are few signs of it at present. Just now he is acting in this
new play at the Frivolity Theatre. A secondary part!"
"He has the leading comedy part," said Laura angrily. "Julia, why will
you annoy me?"
"My dear, I don't. It's your own bad temper. You never will face the
truth. However, I have placed matters before you, so you can take time
and decide your future course."
"I won't go abroad with you, Julia. We should only quarrel."
"Oh dear me, no! I never quarrel. People--you included--are too weak
to quarrel with. However, it's decided you won't come?"
"Yes. I shall live with the Baldwins."
"I wish you joy! But recollect, if you marry this actor, I refuse to
come to the wedding."
"You had better wait till you are asked," said Laura rather weakly,
and left the room, fearful what she might say next. The last words she
heard from Julia were an admonition to keep her temper.
At first Laura intended to go to her own room, but hearing voices in
the White Room she peered in. To her surprise, she saw Arnold seated
with Walter Fane. When they saw her, Arnold rose quickly and came
forward.
"My dearest, how glad I am you have come!"
"Why didn't you send for me?" said Laura, as he kissed her.
"I asked him not to," interposed Walter uneasily. "Julia was with you,
and she would have come also. I don't feel well enough for Julia's
preaching at present," he said, passing his hand across his brow; "this
murder has upset me."
"Have you heard about it, Arnold?" asked Laura, looking at her lover
in a searching manner.
"Yes," he replied calmly, and evidently prepared for the question. "And
I should have come before to see you, but that you told me not to."
"You haven't been here for a long time," said Walter wearily.
"Not since you left for the seaside. But I saw Laura at the Baldwins'
a week ago. Laura, you are not going?"
Miss Mason, who had changed colour while her lover was speaking, and
had not taken her eyes from his face, was by this time half-way to the
door.
"I must go," she said rapidly. "I have something to do. I shall see
you again."
"When?" asked Calvert, detaining her at the door.
"I shall write and let you know," said Laura, and abruptly withdrawing
her hand from his, she escaped.
Arnold returned to his seat near Fane with a puzzled expression.
"What is the matter?" he asked, and there was an apprehensive look in
his eyes.
Fane also looked nervous, but that was scarcely to be wondered at,
considering the late events.
"I suppose Julia has been going on at her about you," he said
fretfully. "I wish you'd marry her right away and take her from Julia.
Poor Laura has a bad time."
"I am not in a position to do so now," said Calvert gloomily; "things
are bad with me. This play has not been a success, and I'll be out of
an engagement soon."
"Laura has money for you both," said Fane.
Arnold flushed to the roots of his fair hair.
"I do not intend to live on my wife," he said sharply. "Until I can
keep her in the style to which she has been accustomed, I will not
marry her."
Fane laughed rather weakly.
"As things stand at present there is not much chance of your becoming
a wealthy man," he said.
"Perhaps. And yet I don't know. I may come in for money."
"Really!" said Walter with interest; "some relative?"
Arnold nodded. "A cousin on my mother's side. A man called Brand."
Fane, who had been listening quietly, started from his seat.
"What!"
"A man called Brand. He lives in Australia, and is very rich. I think
the money will come to me, or to a cousin of mine--a woman."
Fane was quiet again by this time. "I knew a man called Brand once. He
was a scoundrel who cheated me out of a lot of money. A young man he
was, with green eyes."
"Can't be any relative of mine," said Calvert. "I never saw my cousin
in Australia, but he looks a kindly man from his portrait. Not at all
the sort to have green eyes. As to Flora's eyes, they are brown."
"Flora," said Fane idly; "what a pretty name! Who is she?"
"The cousin I told you of. The money may come to her. She lives at
Hampstead, but I have never been to her house."
"How is that?"
"I only became aware of her existence some months ago," said Arnold
lightly. "We met by chance, and--but it's a long story. But we learned
that we were relations, and I promised to call."
"But you didn't?"
"No. Something always came in the way. But I dare say if Flora came in
for the money she would help me. I might chuck the stage, and get a
start--read for the bar, perhaps. Then I could marry Laura."
"Have you any capabilities for the bar?" asked Fane. "For instance,
what do you think of this murder?"
Arnold threw up his hand.
"Don't ask me," he said abruptly; "I have heard nothing else discussed
but that murder for days. I am perfectly sick of it. What is your
opinion?"
"I don't know--I haven't one. The whole thing is a mystery to me. All
I know is that the death in this room has so sickened me, that I
intend to give up the villa and go abroad to Switzerland."
"An inland place. That will rather interfere with your yachting."
"Before Fane could answer, the door opened, and Mrs. Fane, serene as
ever, entered with an evening paper in her hand. She started a trifle
when she saw Arnold, but bowed gracefully.
"So pleased to see you," she said with conventional falseness. "I must
send Laura to you. She is dying to see you."
"I have seen her, Mrs. Fane. I am now going away."
"Oh!" Mrs. Fane smiled agreeably. "You have quarrelled."
"No, but----"
"Never mind--never mind!" interrupted Walter irritably. "What is the
matter, Julia?"
"She laid her cool hand on his head.
"How hot your brow is," she said soothingly. "You have never been
yourself since this horrid murder."
"We agreed not to talk of it again," said Fane, moving his head from
under her hand.
"I fear we must," said his wife, sitting down. "Don't go, Mr. Calvert.
This is no secret. Merely a paragraph in the paper."
"Have they found out anything?" asked Arnold quietly.
"Well, it seems to be a sort of a clue. This room, you know----"
"This room!" Both men looked round the White Room, and then at one
another. Finally both pairs of eyes were fixed on Mrs. Fane's face.
"Yes," she said calmly. "I need not read the paragraph. The gist of it
is that the police have received a letter stating that there is a room
like this in a house at Hampstead."
"At Hampstead?" said Calvert, advancing a step.
"Yes. It belongs to a Mr. Brand."
"Brand!" said Fane, looking at Calvert. "Why, that is the name you
mentioned just now!"
"Yes," said the young man with an effort. "I have a cousin called
Flora Brand."
"Dear me," said Mrs. Fane in her cold way. "I wonder if she can be the
miserable creature who was murdered in this room."
"Julia!" Fane started to his feet. "What do you mean?"
"Don't grow excited, my dear," she replied in her soothing tones. "But
it seems that Mrs. Brand has disappeared. The writer of the letter
doesn't describe her to the police; but inquiries are being made.
Perhaps she may be the dead woman. How strange that she should have
died in this room, when she has one of her own furnished exactly the
same. This room was your own idea, Walter?"
"Yes," he replied, looking puzzled, "my own idea. And I don't know
Mrs. Brand. How came she to have a similar room?"
Arnold took up his hat.
"I'll find that out," he said.
When he left the room, husband and wife looked at one another.