MR. SWANLAND WISHES TO BE INFORMED.
Meantime at Homewood a nice little storm was coming up against the wind.
Concerning misfortune, Kleinwort's theory may be accepted as correct. It
is rarely the expected rain-fall, rarely the anticipated storm, which
beats down the hopes of a man's life, destroys all the fair prospect of
his future. In nine cases out of ten the tempest creeps out of some
totally unlooked-for quarter; and behold ere one can quite understand
that the morning sunshine is overcast, or the mid-day glory clouded, the
heavens are opened, and out of them proceed lightnings and thunder and
blinding tempests which blast every bud and flower and fruit a man has
looked on with hope and pride, before he can realise the nature of the
misfortune that has fallen upon him.
Now something of this kind occurred at Homewood, and it assumed the
shape first of a most polite note from Mr. Swanland, asking Mrs.
Mortomley if she could oblige him by calling at his office at eleven
o'clock on the next morning, Saturday, as he was unable to go to
Homewood, and there were two or three matters about which it was
necessary for him to see her, and next of the following:
"St. Swithin's Lane, E.C.
"September 29th, 187--.
"Mrs. Mortomley,
"Homewood.
"Madam,
"A Mr. Benning has been with us to make some inquiries concerning
the moneys bequeathed to you by Miss Dollabella Chippendale, of
which our Mr. Daniells is trustee. In Mr. Daniells' absence we have
deferred answering these inquiries, but we think it might be
advisable for you to request your solicitor to call upon us with
reference to this matter, Mr. Benning, as we understand, being only
engaged about some liquidation affair in which Mr. Mortomley is
concerned.
"Your obedient Servants,
"HERSON, DANIELLS, AND CO."
Dolly sat and pondered over these letters as she had sat and pondered
over the letter signed John Jones, mentioned in a very early chapter.
That epistle she had regarded in the light of a gratuitous piece of
impertinence emanating either from Mr. Kleinwort or Mr. Forde, and under
this impression she worded the advertisement which so annoyed Mr.
Asherill; but when the last post of the next day brought those two
missives, she began to wonder whether John Jones might not really have
been some humble friend gifted with greater prescience than she
possessed, who, unknowing of the remnant of her quarter's income she
still possessed, might imagine her so short of money that even two
pounds four shillings might prove acceptable.
Moved by some incomprehensible impulse, she, the most careless of
created beings, searched for that letter and locked it away in her
dressing-case.
There was no Rupert to talk to now. Twice since his departure he had
appeared at Homewood, the first time to say Antonia was busy purchasing
her trousseau, and that old Dean had acted most generously in the matter
of money, on the next occasion to ask Dolly not to expect to see him
before Monday, as he was obliged to go down to Bath; the real truth
being Rupert had thought the Homewood matter over, and decided that
until Antonia had become Mrs. Dean, the less he saw of that place the
better.
On the occasion of his first visit, Turner, the man already mentioned as
having incited Esther to remove those vases and statuettes which seemed
to them both desirable possessions, stopped him on his way to the gate.
"You and Mr. Lang, sir, saw a man the other morning looking over the
fence, I believe?"
Rupert nodded assent.
"And you asked Lang who he was, and Lang could not tell you?"
"Yes," agreed Mr. Halling.
"Well, I know, sir; he's a detective, and there are more of them about."
Rupert stepped back as if he had received a blow, he stepped back so far
he was brought up by a tree of _arbor vitae_, out of which he emerged
dripping with wet.
"Detectives?" he repeated, taking off his hat and smoothing it
mechanically. "What can they want here?"
"If I am not greatly out in my calculation, sir, there are those in this
business who would cheerfully give a hundred pounds to catch Mr.
Mortomley tripping, or to be able to prove he ever did trip."
"Mr. Mortomley may safely defy them then," said Rupert, but he did not
turn back and warn Dolly there were spies round and about watching the
old familiar place.
Mr. Turner stood contemplating his retreating figure.
"A fine young man," he thought, "but cut out and made up after the
world's pattern. And so he won't tell her. Well, then, I will; for a
lady like Mrs. Mortomley ought not to be kept in the dark. And her
husband too ill to look after aught for himself," added Mr. Turner, who
in truth was with the Mortomleys heart and soul, so far as the
exigencies of his delightful profession allowed him to have sympathy for
any one beyond the "one" who had put him in possession.
So he told Esther, who told her mistress, who was naturally incredulous
of, and indignant at, Turner's statement.
"Detectives!" she repeated scornfully. "Does the man suppose we are
thieves or murderers?"
"No, ma'am, but I--I do really think he is sorry for you--and--the
master."
Esther was brushing Mrs. Mortomley's hair, as she uttered this sentence
slowly, and with considerable hesitation.
In the glass she could see reflected her mistress's downcast face--the
sudden compression of her lips--the quiver about her mouth.
They had sunk very low Dolly felt, when even the bailiffs pitied them!
That was her first thought. Her next was, that in his way Turner was
trying to do his best for her and her husband, but she could not trust
herself to speak upon the subject, so she refrained from answering, and
the brushing proceeded in silence.
Next morning Esther detected some white hairs amongst the brown. Of late
this had been a matter of no rare occurrence.
"What does it signify?" Mrs. Mortomley exclaimed. "If these men stay
here much longer my hair will be white as snow. Oh! I wish!--I wish--I
wish!" she added passionately, "we had a house to ourselves once again.
If it were the humblest cottage in England in which I could shut the
door and feel we were alone, I should thank God for his mercy--"
"It cannot be for long, ma'am, Turner says--" Esther was beginning,
when Mrs. Mortomley faced round upon her.
"If you mention that man's name again, I will give you notice."
Which certainly most servants so situated would have taken without
further ceremony on the spot.
If Mrs. Mortomley had possessed the wisdom of the serpent, she would not
have arrayed herself in the gorgeous attire she selected as especially
suitable for a visit to Mr. Swanland's offices; but Dolly could not yet
realize the fact that her husband was bankrupt, that a trustee ruled at
Homewood, that the last man in possession was his lord-lieutenant, that
the men were no longer Mortomley's men, but belonged to Mr. Swanland, as
did the works and everything else, themselves scarcely excepted, about
the place.
So, arrayed like the Queen of Sheba, Dolly started away on foot to catch
the train from Leytonstone which should enable her to reach Mr.
Swanland's office by eleven.
There were horses in the stable, but Mrs. Mortomley forbade them being
harnessed for her benefit.
"It was a fine morning and she preferred walking," she said; though Mr.
Meadows with some effusion of manner assured her, if she wished, he
would have the carriage brought round directly, and he continued to
press his offer till she cut him short by saying,
"As it seems I can no longer order my carriage for myself, I shall walk.
You have taken very good care, Mr. Meadows, during the course of the
last two days to let me know I am not mistress here or my husband
master. Kindly stand aside and let me pass. I have to see your employer
at eleven o'clock."
And she opened the gate for herself, and walked out into the road as if
not Homewood alone but all the stately homes of England had belonged to
her of right; walked out to hear the worst which could befall.
It was a splendid morning. After raining for a whole week with scarcely
a moment's intermission, the weather that day seemed to have made up
its mind to turn over a new leaf and to be bright for evermore.
Athwart all the forest glades sunbeams fell in golden bars on the vivid
turf; the trees were still in full leaf, the songs of birds sounded in
Dolly's ears; all nature seemed careless and happy and prodigal; and as
the woman upon whom such trouble had fallen so suddenly looked first on
this side and on that, she thanked God involuntarily for the beauty of
this beautiful world, and then exclaimed almost aloud,
"And there _must_ be some way into the sunshine for us, if I could only
see which turning to take."
There was, my dear, and you had taken the turning. All unconsciously
your feet were already treading a path leading into the
sunshine--through dreary wastes it is true--along places stony and
thorny; across wilds hard to traverse, but still a path conducting to
the sunshine, out of the blind, maddening, perplexing darkness, into
light.
It has always been a puzzle to me why the newest offices in London are
those which seem most frequently under the hand of the house decorator.
If you happen to have an account at an old banking establishment, to
have entrusted your affairs to the management of an old-fashioned
solicitor, or to be acquainted with a broker who is one of a firm known
in the City for years, you may call upon each and all of them, season
after season, without fearing to encounter that villainous smell of
paint which meet those who do business with new people at every turn, on
every landing.
As for Salisbury House, painters, white-washers, paper-hangers, and
varnishers pervaded it with a perpetual presence.
A man given to punning once suggested the reason for this was--the
dreadful cases taken in there--but Mr. Asherill, to whom the remark was
made, would not see the intended joke, and observed it might be well for
some people, who did not possess a saving faith, if men were able to
perform a similar cleansing operation on their souls.
On the occasion of Mrs. Mortomley's first visit to Salisbury House, Mr.
Swanland's own office was undergoing a course of purification, and he
was therefore compelled to receive her in the room where a week
previously Messrs. Kleinwort and Werner had been admitted to an audience
with the senior partner.
In acknowledgment of his own comparatively subordinate standing in the
firm, Mr. Swanland's papers were ranged upon a table covered with green
baize, drawn close beside the window, while Mr. Asherill maintained his
position at the ponderous mass of mahogany and morocco leather which
occupied the centre of the room.
When Mrs. Mortomley entered, Mr. Asherill rose, and, with a profound bow
and studied courtesy of manner, handed her a chair.
Mr. Swanland availed himself of this opportunity of feebly indicating
his senior as "my partner;" then, while Mr. Benning who was present
advanced to shake hands, Mr. Asherill resumed his seat and his
occupation with an air which said plainly to all who cared to
understand,
"Now don't interrupt me or trouble me about your trumpery business. Here
am I with the whole future of mercantile London on my shoulders, and it
is absurd to expect me to give the smallest attention to this
ridiculously poor affair."
At intervals he touched his office bell, and sent the clerk who appeared
in answer, to Mr. So-and-So, to know about such and such an affair; or
had a book big enough to have contained lengthy biographies of all the
Lord Mayors of London from the time of Fitz Alwyn downwards brought in,
from which he made a feint of extracting some useful information; but
really all the time he was watching Mrs. Mortomley.
Without appearing to do so, he took her in from the enormous rolls and
plaits on the very summit of which her bonnet was perched to the
high-heeled boots, the tops of which reached high above her ankles.
There was not a flower or ruche or frill or furbelow or bow about her
dress of which he did not make a mental inventory. He noted the lace on
her mantle, and the fit and colour of her gloves; and while he thus
noticed her face, dress, manner, and tried to piece a consistent whole
out of the woman's appearance, her position, and Kleinwort's account of
her, the talk went on smoothly and easily enough at first.
"It will be necessary for us, Mrs. Mortomley, to know something about
your own money in the event of any questions being asked at the meeting
of creditors," began Mr. Swanland, after he had asked after Mr.
Mortomley and apologised for bringing her to town. "It was left to you
by a relation, I believe?"
"No," Dolly explained, "not a relation exactly. By my godmother, Miss
Chippendale."
"Before or after your marriage?"
"You need not trouble Mrs. Mortomley with all those questions," Mr.
Benning here interrupted. "I have been to Doctors' Commons and
ascertained all the particulars."
Dolly turned and looked at him as he said this; turned sharply and
suddenly, and then for the first time Mr. Asherill decided she was not
a person whom it might be quite safe to offend.
Already he saw that there was secret war between her and Mr. Benning;
already he understood she scented danger afar off, and was standing at
bay waiting for its coming.
"I am sure," said Mr. Swanland in his smoothest tone, with his blandest
and falsest smile, "I do not want to trouble Mrs. Mortomley
unnecessarily about anything; but it is for the interest of all
concerned that we should know at first precisely how we are placed. How
we are placed," repeated Mr. Swanland with some self-satisfaction at the
neatness of his sentence.
"That is just what I want to know," agreed Dolly, "though it seems to me
we could scarcely be in a more miserable position than is the case at
present."
At this juncture Mr. Asherill cleared his throat vehemently. Mr. Benning
seated with his legs stretched out crossed one foot over the other and
contemplated the polish on his boots while Mr. Swanland remarked,
"Ladies are always so hasty. They jump at conclusions so rapidly, and I
must say, if you will forgive me, Mrs. Mortomley, frequently so
erroneously."
"You mean, I suppose, that we may find ourselves in a more miserable
position still?" said Dolly flushing a little. "If that be your meaning,
let me know at once whether this fresh trouble refers to my money."
"I assure you--" began Mr. Swanland.
But she interrupted him by a quick impatient gesture.
"Why did you ask me to come here this morning? What is it you wish to be
told that Mr. Benning cannot tell you better than I?"
Mr. Asherill laid down his pen and began to turn over the leaves of his
diary softly and with a great show of interest. Mr. Benning lifted his
eyes from his boots to stare at Mrs. Mortomley, while Mr. Swanland
looking across at him asked,
"Was there anything to that effect in the will?"
"No. If you had given me five minutes' interview, as I asked, I could
have told you there was not."
"And Herson?"
"Knows nothing, or will know nothing, except the fact that money has
been withdrawn for business purposes, and that Daniells refused to allow
any more to be used, which all tallies with Forde's statements."
"Mrs. Mortomley," asked Mr. Swanland, "you can save us a vast amount of
trouble if you will kindly inform us whether there has been any
settlement made upon you of this money."
"I do not know," she answered. "I suppose so; however, the money is
mine, it was left to me."
"Of course, of course, we understand all that," said Mr. Swanland. "What
I want you to tell me is whether Mr. Mortomley ever made any settlement
of this money on you."
"No. It did not come from any of his relations or friends; it was
bequeathed to me as I have already stated by--"
"She does not know," suggested Mr. Swanland, speaking across Dolly to
Mr. Benning.
"No; but I think we may draw our own conclusions. Was the subject of
settlements ever discussed between you and your husband?" he inquired,
turning to Mrs. Mortomley.
"No; certainly not. We never had separate purses, we never could have.
What was his was mine, and what is mine shall of course always be his."
"We do not mean to suggest that you and Mr. Mortomley ever were or ever
will be on other than the most affectionate terms," retorted Mr. Benning
with a slight sneer.
"Fortunately the domestic happiness or unhappiness of our clients is not
a matter we are called upon to investigate," said Mr. Swanland with a
light laugh. "Eh, Asherill?"
Mr. Asherill looked up with an expression of face which implied he had
come up from the profoundest depths of thought to hearken to his
partner's babble.
"No, no, no," he agreed hastily. "Matrimony is an account out of which
it would take wiser heads than ours to make a fair balance-sheet," and
he was resuming his occupation, when Mrs. Mortomley addressed him.
"Sir," she said, his white hair and large head inspiring her with a
momentary confidence in his integrity and straightforwardness, "you look
like a gentleman who might have daughters of your own, daughters as old
as I am, and who may yet be--though I earnestly hope not--in as great
difficulty and perplexity as I am this day. Will you tell me what is the
meaning of all this--why do they ask so many questions about my money?"
"I do not know anything about the matter, my dear," he answered, in his
most patriarchal manner. "I have not the faintest idea what it is my
young partner has in his mind, but you may be quite certain it is
nothing except what will turn out for your good eventually. You may
trust him implicitly."
Dolly surveyed the trio while Mr. Asherill was speaking, and when he
finished she felt she had never seen at one time three men together
before less calculated to inspire confidence.
"The days of highwaymen are over," she said when describing the
interview subsequently to Mrs. Werner, "but I felt instinctively I had
got amongst banditti."
"Supposing," she said, turning to Mr. Swanland, "that there were no
settlements, how will it affect me?"
"How will it affect Mrs. Mortomley, Benning?" inquired Mr. Swanland
innocently.
"What is the use of asking such a question of me?" exclaimed Mr. Benning
irritably. "You know as well as I that in such a case what is hers is
her husband's, and--"
"Go on please," said Dolly, as he paused.
"And what is your husband's, I was going to say," he proceeded, spite of
Mr. Swanland's look of entreaty, "is his creditors'."
"Then you mean to have my money?" she said, "you mean to take the only
thing left to us?"
"There may be a settlement you know," observed Mr. Swanland in a
soothing voice.
"There is not, I feel there is not," she interrupted.
"And in any case," continued Mr. Swanland, "it is not we who take, but
the law; it is not we who have, but the creditors. We must hope for the
best, however, Mrs. Mortomley. No one will be more truly rejoiced than I
to know this money is secured to you."
She seemed as if she had not heard his sentence, but sat for a minute
like one stunned. Then she said bitterly,
"A 'Well Wisher' sent me two pounds four the other day, and I forwarded
the amount to the London Hospital. It seems to me I may yet have reason
to repent of my haste at my leisure."
In an airy manner Mr. Swanland, apparently treating her words as a mere
jest, remarked, "I am not quite sure, Mrs. Mortomley, that in my
capacity as trustee the two pounds four you mention ought not to have
been handed over to me."
If his words conveyed any meaning to her she made no sign of
understanding it. After sitting for a few moments lost in thought she
rose, and saying "I shall go at once to a solicitor," inclined her head
to the accountants and Mr. Benning, and left the office, before Mr.
Asherill could open the door for her to pass out.
That same evening Mr. Meadows received a note from his employer
containing various directions and instructions. After the signature came
a postscript, "How does it happen _Mrs._ Mortomley's letters have not
been forwarded to me? See to this _at once_, and never let me have to
complain of such negligence again."
For with all the flocks and herds of the Mortomley
Estate held in his hand, Mr. Swanland's
soul sickened, because of that two pounds four
shillings he could never now hope to liquidate.