At the close of the second act, as she was urging her sister and
brother-in-law to take some refreshment, she was disagreeably
interrupted by hearing a voice which she recognised as that of
Mr Portland, a friend of Lord Ilfracombe’s. Jack Portland (as he
was usually called by his own sex) was a man whom Miss Llewellyn
particularly disliked, on account of his bad influence over the Earl.
He was a well-known betting and sporting man, who lived on the turf,
and whose lead Lord Ilfracombe was, unfortunately, but too ready to
follow. She shrunk back as she encountered him, but Mr Portland was not
easily rebuffed.
‘Ah, Miss Llewellyn,’ he exclaimed, as he scrambled over the vacant
seats to reach her side, ‘is this really you? I thought I recognised
you from the stalls, but could hardly believe my eyes. What are you
doing in the dress circle? I have always seen you in a box before.’
‘I am with friends, Mr Portland,’ replied Miss Llewellyn, with visible
annoyance; ‘and one can see a play like this much better from the
circle. We have been enjoying it very much.’
‘You must be pretty well sick of it by this time, I should think,’
returned Mr Portland, with his glass stuck in his eye, ‘for I’ve seen
you here twice with Ilfracombe already. By the way, how is Ilfracombe?
When did you hear from him last?’
Miss Llewellyn was on thorns.
‘Will you excuse me, Mr Portland,’ she said, with a face of crimson,
‘but I and my friends were just going to have some ices at the buffet.’
‘By Jove, but you won’t!’ exclaimed the officious Portland. ‘I will
send them to you. How many do you want? Three?’
‘Yes, three if you please,’ answered Miss Llewellyn, who saw no other
way of getting rid of her tormentor, and dreaded what he might say
before her sister.
‘Who is that gentleman, Nell?’ inquired Hetty as soon as his back was
turned.
‘No one in particular,’ said the other, ‘only an acquaintance of Lord
Ilfracombe’s. Don’t take any notice of him, Hetty. He talks a lot of
nonsense.’
She was praying all the time that Mr Portland, having given his orders
to the waiter, might see he was not wanted, and go back to his stall.
But he was not the sort of man who gives something for nothing. He
meant to be paid for the attention, though in his own coin. The waiter
soon appeared bearing the tray of ices and wafers, and in his train
came Mr Jack Portland, smiling as if he knew his welcome was assured.
‘I’ve got you Neapolitan, Miss Llewellyn, you see. I remembered that
Ilfracombe always orders Neapolitan. By the way, you never told me the
contents of his last letter. He’s very gay at Malta I hear. Always with
those Abingers. Have you heard of the Abingers? He’s the admiral there.
By George, Miss Llewellyn, I’d recall Ilfracombe if I were you. Send
him home orders, you know. He’s been out there quite long enough, don’t
you think so?’
Miss Llewellyn saw that Hetty and William were listening with open eyes
to this discourse, and did not know how to stop Mr Portland’s tongue.
She would fain have got rid of him altogether, but of the two evils she
chose what seemed to her the least. She lowered her voice, and begged
him to cease his remarks on Lord Ilfracombe till they were alone.
‘That’s the way the land lies,’ he replied, with a wink in the
direction of Hetty. ‘All right, mum’s the word! How deucedly handsome
you are looking to-night,’ he added in a lower voice, as he brought
his bloated face in close proximity to hers. ‘Tell you what, Miss
Llewellyn, Ilfracombe’s a fool!--a d--d fool, by George! to leave such
a face and figure as yours, whilst he goes gallivanting after a set of
noodles at Malta!’
At this remark Nell flushed indignantly, and, turning her back on the
intruder, directed her attention to her sister, upon which Mr Portland,
with a familiar nod, and an easy good-night, took himself away. As
soon as he was out of hearing Hetty pestered Nell to tell her his name,
and to confess if he was anything to her.
‘I can’t say I think he’s handsome,’ she said, with a little _moue_,
‘his face is so red, and he stares so; but do tell me the truth, Nell.
Is he your young man?’
‘My young man? Gracious, no, child! Why, I hate the fellow! I think he
is the most odious, impertinent, presuming person I know! But he is a
friend of Lord Ilfracombe’s, so I am obliged to be civil to him.’
‘Ah, well, I wish you had a young man, Nell, all the same. Mother would
be so glad to hear you were thinking of getting married. She often says
that it is high time you were settled, and that you’re far too handsome
to be single in London, for that it’s a dreadful dangerous place for
girls, and especially if they’re good looking. She _would_ be pleased
to hear you were keeping company with anyone that could keep you like a
lady.’
‘But I’m not, Hetty, dear, nor likely to be, so you mustn’t get any
ideas of that sort into your head. But let us attend to what is going
on. I hope Will and you are enjoying yourselves.’
‘Oh, lovely!’ said Hetty, with a sigh of ineffable content.
But Miss Llewellyn had not got rid of Mr Portland yet. As she was
pushing her way out of the corridor when the play was over, she found
him again by her side.
‘Will you be at home to-morrow, Miss Llewellyn?’ he asked in a low
voice.
‘I believe so. Why?’
‘Because I particularly want to speak to you. May I call about three?’
‘Certainly, if you really wish to speak to me; but I cannot imagine
what you can have to say that you cannot say now?’
‘Oh, that would be quite impossible,’ rejoined Mr Portland, looking her
straight in the eyes; ‘I couldn’t even explain what my business with
you is, but you shall hear all about it if you will be so good as to
receive me about three.’
‘I shall be at home,’ replied Miss Llewellyn coldly, as she pushed her
way out into the street and entered a passing cab with her companions.
‘I shall call for you both to-morrow about six o’clock, Hetty,’ she
said, as she deposited them at the door of their lodgings, ‘and take
you to the Alhambra. You’ll see something there more beautiful than you
have ever seen before.’
‘Oh, Nell, you _are_ good!’ cried her sister; ‘and what a lot of money
you must receive. It makes me wish that I, too, had come up to London
town when you did, and gone to service, for then I might have saved
some money to help Will furnish our rooms. I brought him nothing, you
know, Nell--not even a penny, It seems so sad, doesn’t it?’
‘What nonsense!’ replied Miss Llewellyn. ‘You brought him your true,
pure heart and your honest soul, and they are worth all the money in
the world, Hetty, and I am sure William thinks the same. Good-night. We
shall meet again to-morrow.’
And with a wave of her hand, she drove away to Grosvenor Square.
Her maid was waiting up for her, all consternation to find she had
left the house without calling in her assistance.
‘Dear me, ma’am!’ she exclaimed, as she knelt down on the floor of Miss
Llewellyn’s bedroom to unbutton her dainty boots, ‘to think you could
go out, and me not to dress you. When John told me you had left the
house, and not even taken the carriage, you might have knocked me down
with a feather. And in this dress and mantle, too! Dear, dear, wherever
did you go? Not to the theatre, surely?’
‘Yes, I did,’ responded her mistress. ‘I took some young friends from
the country with me to the Adelphi; and you see, Susan, the fact is,
they are not used to fashionable dressing, so I thought I would not
make them feel uncomfortable by being smarter than themselves.’
‘Many ladies think the same,’ remarked the maid; ‘though I don’t hold
with it, for it’s a real pleasure to look at such dresses as yours,
even if one can’t have ’em for oneself.’
She spoke rather more familiarly than servants usually do to their
mistresses, for she knew perfectly well, though she dared not say
so openly, that Miss Llewellyn was not a gentlewoman any more than
herself, but it was, she thought, to her profit to appear to think so.
The Court favourite is generally the object of adulation and sycophancy
until her reign is over. But Ellen Llewellyn had been accustomed to
subservience for so long now that she had almost forgotten that it was
not hers by right. It was only at times that the truth was borne in
upon her that she held the luxuries of life on an uncertain tenure.
Her maid undressed her, and put her blue cashmere dressing-gown about
her shoulders, and would have hovered around her for an indefinite
period, chattering of every bit of news she had heard that day, but
Miss Llewellyn was in no mood to indulge her, and dismissed her at last
rather abruptly. She wanted to be alone to ponder over the surprise she
had had that afternoon--to dream again of Panty-cuckoo Farm; to wonder
how the dear old garden looked under the July sun; if her mother had
aged much during the last five years; whether her father’s figure was
more bent and his steps feebler--above all, she wanted to communicate
her thoughts to someone who would sympathise with them. She felt too
excited to rest, so she took up her pen again and finished the letter
in the writing of which she had been interrupted that afternoon by her
sister’s arrival.
‘I had written thus far, my dearest, when I was interrupted
by the appearance of my little sister Hetty, from Usk, and
her husband, William Owen, when I never even knew that they
were married. Oh, Ilfracombe, I was so surprised! They have
come up to town for their wedding trip expressly to see me,
so I felt compelled to show them some attention. But I was
so nervous! I hurried them out of the house as soon as I
could, and took them to the Adelphi; and there, who should
spy us out but Mr Portland, who would keep on talking to me
of you till I was fairly obliged to run away from him. What
a fool he must be to speak so openly before strangers. I
could have boxed his ears! Oh, I never feel safe or happy
except when I am by your side. How very glad I shall be when
you come home again. Then you will take me up to Abergeldie
with you for the shooting, won’t you? Till then I shall not
stir. How could I enjoy myself at a watering-place all
alone? I have seen nothing of Mr Sterndale yet, and cannot
imagine what he should have to say to me. We never had much
in common; indeed, I regularly dislike him. He always looks
at me so suspiciously as if he thought I was a wretched
harpy, like some women we know of, and cared for nothing but
your money and your title. Instead of which I love you so
dearly that I could almost wish you were a ruined
costermonger, Ilfracombe, instead of the grand gentleman you
are, that I might prove my love by working for you and with
you. Ah, if I only could do something to return all your
goodness to me; but it is hopeless, and will never be. You
are too high above me. All I can do is to love you.’
And with much more in this strain the letter ended. The excitement
that had been engendered in Nell by seeing friends from home had been
continued by writing her feelings to the man she loved; but now that it
was over, and she lay down on her bed, the natural reaction set in,
and she turned her beautiful face on her pillow and shed a few quiet
tears.
‘Oh, how I wish Ilfracombe were here,’ she sobbed. ‘He has been away
four months now, and my life is a desert without him. It is hardly
bearable. And if Hetty or William should hear--if by chance anyone who
knows it, like that officious Jack Portland, should come across them
and mention it, and they should tell mother, it would break her heart
and mine too. If he would only have the courage to end it, and do
what’s right. But it’s too much to expect. I must not think of such a
thing. I have always known it was impossible. And I am as certain as I
am that there is a heaven that he will never forsake me; he has said it
so often. I am as secure as if I were really his wife. Only this world
is so hard--so bitterly, bitterly hard!’
And so Nell cried herself to sleep.
But the next morning she was as bright and as gloriously beautiful as
ever, and when she descended to breakfast the butler and footman waited
on her as assiduously as if she had been a countess, and the coachman
sent up to her for orders concerning the carriage, and the cook
submitted the menu for that day’s dinner for her approval. As soon as
her breakfast was concluded she gave an interview to Lord Ilfracombe’s
stud groom, and went with him into the forage and stable accounts,
detecting several errors that he had passed over, and consulting him
as to whether his master might not, with some benefit to himself, try
another corn merchant. So much had she had identified herself with all
the earl’s interests that she more than once used the plural pronoun in
speaking of the high prices quoted to her.
‘This will never do, Farningham,’ she said once; ‘we cannot afford
to go on with Field at this rate. His charges are enough to ruin a
millionaire. With four horses here, and eleven down at Thistlemere, we
shall have nothing left to feed ourselves soon.’
‘Very well, ma’am,’ replied the man, ‘I’ll get the price list from two
or three other corn merchants, and submit them to you. I don’t fancy
you’ll find much difference, though, in their prices. You see, with the
long drought we have had this season, hay has risen terribly, and oats
ain’t much better; they’re so poor I’ve had to increase the feeds. Will
his lordship be home for the hunting, ma’am?’
‘Oh, yes, I hope so sincerely, Farningham. He says he shall miss the
grouse this year; but I quite expect him for the partridge-shooting.
And after that he is sure to go down to Thistlemere for the hunting
season. He couldn’t live without his horses for long, Farningham.’
‘No, ma’am, he’s a true nobleman for that is his lordship, and I
guessed as much; but I’m glad to hear you say so, for there’s no heart
in getting horses in first-rate order if no one’s to see ’em or use
’em. Good morning, ma’am, and I hope we shall see his lordship soon
again, for all our sakes,’ which hope Miss Llewellyn heartily echoed.