THE THEORY OF MRS. MARSH
For the next week or so, Herrick had his hands full. Mrs. Marsh grew
rapidly worse, and several times nearly slipped through his fingers.
But the doctor's skill, Petronella's nursing, and above all the
indomitable determination of Mrs. Marsh not to die, enabled her to
turn the corner. She became much better, but still suffered from
racking pains. At times Herrick gave her morphia, but did so
sparingly. From Petronella he learned that she had taken chloral for
years past, and feared that if she gained a taste for morphia she
might take to it instead of the weaker drug. For Stephen's sake, Jim
could not let that happen.
Never had Herrick had so unruly a patient. He did not wonder that she
had quarrelled with all the Beorminster doctors. The wonder was that
she had a friend left. Her temper was ungovernable, and she fought
Herrick on every point that did not chime in with her inclinations. In
spite of the fact that he was attending her out of sheer kindness, and
had intimated to Stephen that he expected no fee, Mrs. Marsh abused
him virulently whenever she felt so inclined. But then she abused
everyone, even Petronella, who was her slave. As to Stephen, devoted
as he was to her, she could not find words bad enough for him
sometimes. He was a fool, a ninny, a milksop, he lived upon her
charity, etc., etc. Yet there were times when the young man was all
that was good in her eyes. Even Herrick came in for his share of
praise at odd moments.
"Gran' Dio!" Petronella would say to Herrick after some tussel, "was
there ever such a diavola as the Padrona?"
"The old Italian woman had taken a great fancy to Dr. Jim. He was good
to her mistress whom she idolized, he was kind to Petronella herself,
and could speak her language. He had once made a tour of Europe for
three years with a young dipsomaniac and had contrived to pick up
three or four tongues, which he spoke remarkably correctly. Spanish,
French, German, Italian, Dr. Jim knew them all and could both read and
write them with wonderful accuracy. In the eyes of Petronella he was a
marvellous man, and she often talked to him on subjects which she
would not discuss with anyone else.
"Do not be angry with the padrona Signor Dottore," she said sometimes,
"it is the blood of the Michelotto family. Eh, the Michelotti were
wicked!"
"Like Colonel Carr? Eh, Petronella?"
"Signor Dottore, the Colonel was an angel of light to the wicked
Michelotti. The padrona is the last of them, and it is not wonder she
is angry. Per Bacco," added Petronella who could swear on occasions,
"see this casa--a fitting casa for the last of the grand signori."
"But it is all right now Petronella. As soon as your signora can be
removed we shall take her to The Pines.
"That is a fine casa if you like!" Petronella spat, and shook her
white elf-locks. "It will bring no luck. Eh Signor, but that man had
the evil eye. Once I went with the padrona to see him. He overlooked
me although I made horns, and I hurt my foot. If my padrona goes to
that casa she will die."
Herrick shrugged his shoulders, and did not argue. There was no means
of persuading Petronella out of the spite she had taken to The Pines.
It was now the property of Stephen Marsh. The senior partner of Frith
and Frith had come down personally with the will. This left Stephen
the house, on condition that he pulled down the tower. Furthermore the
personal property of the late Colonel, amounting to eight thousand a
year well invested, was given to the young man on a still more curious
condition.
"You are to have a special vault constructed in Saxham churchyard,"
said Mr. Frith, "it is to be built of stone and lined with sheet iron.
The body of our late client is to be put in there, and you alone are
to hold the key of the door. Once a month you are to enter the vault
and see that the body is safe. If you do this for a year then the
property becomes yours absolutely. If you miss going once, the money
goes to--Frisco."
"To Frisco--the Colonel's servant!" said Stephen in surprise, "and by
that name Mr. Frith?"
"Yes! It is legal enough. But the man evidently murdered his master,
and has gone away to avoid consequences, I do not think you will be
troubled by him. Also Mr. Marsh--or rather Mr. Carr since you have to
take the name--you can avert all chance of this man getting the money
by visiting the vault monthly for a year."
Here was another mystery. Why the money should have been left to
Frisco no one could guess. Stephen often talked it over with Herrick,
but could come to no conclusion. However he set to work to carry out
the terms of the will. A body of workmen were employed to take down
the tower; and Mr. Corn was seen about the construction of a new
vault. Evidently the Colonel did not consider that his remains would
be safe in the ancestral burial-place. In spite of all secrecy, the
countryside came to know of this strange provision of Carr's will,
and it was said that he wanted to make sure that his body would not be
carried off by the devil to whom he had sold himself. In fact the
general opinion was, that some night the remains would be carried off
like those of the old woman of Berkley. The villagers grew confused
over the matter, and did not distinguish between the body and soul.
While Mrs. Marsh was slowly getting better, and Stephen was attending
to the carrying-out of the will, Dr. Jim remained at Saxham, or rather
for the sake of his patient he lived at Beorminster, paying occasional
visits to the village. Robin had long since returned to London, and
had left in much anger at Jim's refusal to accompany him.
"You have found a new friend," he said angrily, "and I must go to the
wall. I do call it unfair Jim."
"My dear Robin, I cannot be your shadow. You are quite well able to
look after yourself now. I took you for this walking tour, to do you
good. Now you are in excellent health. I must remain here until Mrs.
Marsh is quite well. Remember if I go she has no doctor to attend
her."
"I can't do without you," persisted Robin. "You have such an influence
over me that I am lost if you are away."
"You must take up your life on your own shoulders," replied Herrick
impatiently; "it is no use relying on other people. But if you feel
that I am so indispensable to you, why not stay here? You have money,
no ties, and can do your work here better than in London."
"I want to go back to town. If I stay here I shall not see much of
you. Marsh is your friend now."
"I like Marsh. He is a good fellow, and I can make something of him. I
suppose Robin you think I am after his money; but you know me better
than that. The three hundred a year I have is enough for me. I was
never a man for luxury."
"I never thought or hinted such a thing," said Joyce with a blush.
"Well, if you like to stay here Jim, I'll return to London, and we can
meet when you return. I suppose you'll be back some time,--that is if
Miss Endicotte will let you go."
"Nonsense," replied Dr. Jim, "she has no thought of me. I like her
very much but in my present state of poverty I could not ask her to be
my wife."
Joyce said nothing more, but the next week took his leave. He was much
missed in Saxham where his bright talk and merry face had made him a
general favourite. The Biff's especially were sorry. Bess had
foregathered with Joyce on the common ground of literature, and she
lamented when he departed.
"Why can't you stay here?" she said in her blunt way, "you can work
better in the country."
"No, Miss Bess. I am like Charles Lamb; London is my home. I cannot get
enough of the divine fire in this tame locality."
"There is nothing tame about it," cried Bess fired with indignation.
Joyce laughed. "Not to you perhaps; but I prefer London myself.
However, I hope you will let me come down and see you at times. And we
can correspond. And if you have any manuscripts you think well of,
send them to me. I will see what I can do with them."
This arrangement was made, and Robin, taking a friendly leave of Jim
went back to his West Kensington fiat. He wrote frequently at first,
but after a time his letters became rarer. Herrick was sorry, but on
the whole somewhat relieved to be rid of such a burden. For Robin was
one of those people who are delightful to meet and terrible to live
with. Had he been ill or in trouble the conscientious Jim would have
stayed with him. But since he had been particularly well after that
attack of nerves when the body was discovered, there was no necessity
for Herrick to martyrise himself further.
And besides Jim had fallen seriously in love with Ida Endicotte. When
Mrs. Marsh was fairly on the road to recovery, Stephen had taken Jim
over to Saxham and introduced him to the Biffs. They lived in a
tumbledown house of considerable size, down a deep and leafy lane. At
one time the Endicottes had been great folks, but the late Mr.
Endicotte who had married the daughter of an Earl, had squandered the
revenues of the family. His wife Lady Arabella had died of sheer
worry, and Mr. Endicotte had found himself alone with five children
and an impoverished estate.
For a time he did his best to keep things together, but ultimately
died--as it was said--of a broken heart. It seemed probable that the
five children would go on the parish. "What a fall for the haughty
Endicotte."
It was at this juncture that Lord Gartham stepped in. He was an Irish
peer, and poor himself, but he could not see his sister's children
entirely penniless. Ida the eldest was twenty-four when her father
died; Bess, had reached the age of twenty-three; and Sidney the
youngest, was sixteen. The five Endicottes were all handsome, and had
high spirits; but poorer than the proverbial church mouse. What was to
be done?
"We'll earn our own livings," said Bess who was the most energetic of
the five. "Ida can look after the house, Frank can manage the farm;
and Sidney can go to school, and I shall ask Mr. Arch to take me on to
the Weekly Chronicle."
"But my dear child!" expostulated the Earl.
"What does it matter?" cried Bess. "We are the Endicottes whatever we
may do. Everybody knows who we are and what we are. There is nothing
disgraceful in earning one's own living Uncle Gar!"
The Earl--rather a helpless person--who had never done a stroke of
honest work in his life, was rather surprised at the energy of Bess.
However her scheme recommended itself to his favour since there was
absolutely no other way of settling the matter. In one way and
another, Lord Gartham paid off the debts by selling some of the land,
and arranged that the united five should have a small income which
they would have to increase as best they could. Thus it was that the
Endicottes found themselves with their ancestral home, a small farm,
two hundred a year, and the world before them.
They were all young and hearty so they thought very little of the
matter. Bess obtained a post on the Weekly Chronicle at Beorminster,
Ida looked after the house, and Frank managed the farm. Flo was put to
a Beorminster school, whence she returned once a week to Saxham, and
Sidney studied under Mr. Corn who expressed a desire to take him. The
countryside all approved of this independent spirit, and made much of
the Biffs.
When the Colonel died, this had been going on for three years. Ida was
still unmarried, as she had refused several offers. "I cannot leave
the children," she said, and people were divided as to the wisdom of
this attitude. Some said it was right; but the majority agreed that it
was a pity such a beautiful girl should develop into an old maid. But
the fact is no one knew Ida's secret. She was in love with Stephen,
and although they had never spoken on the subject they understood one
another very well. Hitherto Stephen's poverty had prevented his
speaking openly. Now the inheritance of eight thousand a year had
altered all that, and he intended to ask Ida to be his wife on the
very earliest opportunity.
It was a pity Jim did not know of this. He had fallen in love with
Ida, and as she was always pleasant to him, it never crossed his mind
that her heart was engaged. Open on most points with his new friend,
Stephen out of delicacy for Ida was reticent about his love. So Jim
continued to live in a Fool's Paradise, and not even the sharp-eyed
Joyce had been able to able to enlighten him.
Certainly Mrs. Marsh had spoken to Jim on the subject. She wanted
Stephen to marry Miss Endicotte, But Dr. Herrick thought that was
merely her own desire, and did not think there was anything serious
between the young people. Nor could Mrs. Marsh inform him of more than
the fact that they liked one another, and that it was the desire of
her heart to see them married.
One day when Stephen was at Saxham, Mrs. Marsh had a long talk with
the doctor in which he saw more of her stormy character, than had ever
been shown to him before. She could sit up in bed now, and wearied of
the society of Petronella, frequently asked Herrick to stay beside
her.
"You are one of the few sensible men I have met," she said, drawing
her black brows together. "Come and talk. I want you to tell me what
you think of Stephen."
"What can I think but that he is the best of fellows," replied Jim
taking a chair by the beside.
"H'm! That sounds like the 'weakest of men,' Stephen I mean. You are
strong enough in every way. That is why I want you to look after
Stephen."
"How do you mean look after him Mrs. Marsh." The widow mused for a time
before replying. "He is a good-hearted fool," she said at last, "and
with his sweet nature is likely to be imposed upon in this world. Now
he is rich and scoundrels will prey on him. I want you to see he comes
to no harm."
"But I have to return to London," remonstrated Jim, rather taken aback
by the responsibility thrust upon him. "I am not a rich man Mrs.
Marsh, and I must look after my practice."
"I can arrange all that," she replied sharply. "You are a good man Dr.
Herrick. I can see that; and I'm no fool. All your influence over
Stephen will be for good. I can get him to offer you some inducement
to stay beside him--at all events until he is married."
"Until he is married?" echoed Jim puzzled. "Has he any intention of
getting married?"
"Not that I know of. He is too much wrapped up in his poetry. But I
wish him to marry Ida Endicotte. She is a well-born girl and a good
woman. I think she will make Stephen an excellent wife. She likes
him."
Jim felt the blood flush in his face. "Liking is not love," he said in
a rather irritated tone.
Mrs. Marsh pulled the curtains aside so that the light fell on the
face of the young man. Then after a scrutiny she gave a short laugh.
"So that is it, is it?" she said. "You are in love with the girl!"
"I never said so Mrs. Marsh."
"Pshaw! You can't blind me. I am a woman. Come. You are in love."
Herrick shrugged his broad shoulders. "I do not see why I should deny
it," he said coldly, "I am in love with Miss Endicotte; but so far as
I can judge she is not in love with me.
"I don't think she is in love with anyone," replied Mrs. Marsh, "but I
have not seen enough of her to judge. If I could only see them
together, I could tell. She likes Stephen though. But here I am
chained to this bed and cannot get out to attend to matters of
importance. Humph!" she eyed Herrick steadily, "so you are in love
with her! Well! it has been the desire of my life to see Stephen
married to Ida, but for all that, I want you to stay. Stephen shall
give you a thousand a year to stay."
"My dear Mrs. Marsh!"
"Now don't contradict me or you will put me out of temper. And you
know what that means. I ask you to stop, to show my regard for you.
Many another woman would get you out of the way rather than see her
pet scheme interfered with. I am not that sort of narrow-minded
person. You shall have your chance along with Stephen. If she loves
you, marry her in God's name and let's have done with the matter. If
however she prefers my poor Stephen--sweet-hearted fool that he
is--you must promise me not to put any obstacle in the way of the
marriage."
"If Miss Endicotte prefers your step-son I certainly should not think
of objecting Mrs. Marsh," said Herrick stiffly. "Your remark is rather
unnecessary."
"I don't think it is," retorted the widow, "you are a gentleman, I
know. But you are also a human being, and when love comes into the
question there are few things a man will not do, or a woman for the
matter of that!" She clenched her thin hand that laid outside the
coverlet, and her face darkened. "I know! I know," she muttered
between her teeth, "who should know but I who have suffered? Give me
something to drink doctor. My throat is dry with talking."
"I think I had better leave you," said Herrick after her thirst was
assuaged, "you are wearying yourself."
"Don't go," cried Mrs. Marsh abruptly, "I have much to say of
importance. I may not be here long to say it."
"Nonsense, Mrs. Marsh. You are getting better,--much better."
"All the same I may die; one never knows," said the widow gloomily.
Herrick laughed at these forebodings. "What!" said he trying to joke
her out of so morbid a mood, "have you enemies, like Carr?"
"Anyone who came into contact with Carr was bound to have enemies,"
said Mrs. Marsh bitterly. "He was a devil if ever there was one.
However this is not to the point," she went on impatiently, "I want
to know if you will stay with Stephen for a thousand a year?"
"It is a tempting offer to a poor man like myself," said Herrick with
some hesitation, "but until Stephen himself asks me to stay, I cannot
promise. He may not wish----"
"Oh, that is all right Dr. Herrick. Stephen knows that you are his best
friend. I want you to take him in hand and make a man of him. He is
too fond of poring over books; too careless of his physical health.
Make him ride, and golf, and all the rest of it. I have been a fool
keeping him so much beside me. But I love the boy, and that was my
woman's weakness. Now he is rich, teach him how to use his riches and
be happy."
"You have most influence over him" said Herrick still hesitating.
"I have had too much and not for the best" was her gloomy reply, "no;
you are the teacher he wants. Besides who knows what may happen to
me?"
Herrick looked at her uneasily. Again she had hinted at something of
danger to herself. "I wish you would be plain with me," he said.
"What do you mean?" asked Mrs. Marsh with a frown.
"I think you can guess," retorted the doctor. "You hint at your dying;
so far as I know there is not the least likelihood of your doing so
unless you take an overdose of that chloral which I am always advising
you to leave off. Have you some enemy who is likely to----"
"No!" replied Mrs. Marsh with unnecessary violence, "I have no enemy.
But I feel--I have a presentiment--that I am not long for this world.
As an Italian you know I am bound to be superstitious."
"I should think the English part of your blood would revolt against
such morbid nonsense. Again I say you are not plain with me."
"I am. How dare you talk to me so!" cried Mrs. Marsh furiously. "You
are the one man I have met in this world of fools, other than that
dead devil Carr. If I made a confidant of anyone it would be of you.
But so far as I personally am concerned there is nothing to say. But
Stephen--" she hesitated and fell to plucking restlessly at the
coverlet.
"Well! You wish me to be his bear-leader? If he is willing, I am
willing. A thousand a year is not to be despised. Moreover my
conscience is perfectly clear as regards Miss Endicotte."
"I understand. If she loves you, marry her by all means! If Stephen is
her choice, you must promise----"
"I promise nothing," said Herrick impatiently walking to and fro,
"there is no necessity to promise. I am a man of honour. If Stephen
and Miss Endicotte love one another I am the last man in the world to
step between them. You know that."
"If I didn't I should not ask you to stop and look after him," said
Mrs. Marsh cynically. "However, you complained of my want of
confidence. I am going to amend that. Do you know why I want you to
stay with Stephen."
"To make a man of him--so you said."
"That certainly, but it is something of an excuse. I also want
you--and this is the main reason--to guard him."
"Against whom? What are you hinting at?" asked Herrick sharply.
"At Frisco," was the unexpected reply. "Oh, you may look astonished,
but if you remember the will?--well?"
"The will," repeated Dr. Jim, "I see what you mean. The money goes to
Frisco if Stephen should neglect to visit the vault monthly for a
year. What of that?"
"This much. Frisco killed Colonel Carr. Oh, I am sure of it! If not,
why did he fly? Besides there is no one else I can think of who had an
interest in Carr's death. I do not know what secrets he had, but what
there were Frisco knew. That was why Carr left the money to him
failing Stephen."
"Nonsense. If Frisco possessed Colonel Carr's secrets he could have
blackmailed him without the necessity of murder."
"Ah, you don't know," said Mrs. Marsh mysteriously. "I have heard
Frisco and Carr quarrel. It is my belief--if you remember Napper's
evidence that they quarrelled on the night of the murder. They must
have fought a duel, which is just what two devils like them would do.
Frisco killed his master before he could fire a shot. That is why all
the chambers of the revolver were found loaded. Well, Frisco has had
to fly; but he will not give up his chance of getting the money. No!
He will," here Mrs. Marsh bent forward to whisper, "he will try and
maim or kill Stephen so that he may not fulfil the conditions of the
will--and visit the vault. Then Frisco will claim the money. I have
thought this all out while lying here."
"It is ingenious," replied Herrick, "but you forget that if Frisco
shows himself, he will be arrested. That stops his attempting to harm
Stephen."
Mrs. Marsh shook her head. "You do not know Frisco; I do," she said:
and not another word could Herrick extract from her.