LADY WATSON'S STORY
"My mother!" Beatrice stopped short at the door, and caught hold of a
chair to support herself. The shock of this discovery came upon her
with overwhelming force. "Impossible!"
"It is true," said Lady Watson, advancing towards her with outstretched
arms. "I am your most unhappy mother."
The girl suffered the little woman to embrace her, but did not return
the caress. "My mother!" she repeated again faintly; "it is impossible,
Lady Watson."
"Don't call me Lady Watson. I am your mother. I should not have
told you: I promised Durban that I would not. But Nature is too,
too strong," cried Lady Watson theatrically; "my heart spoke, and
I responded. Darling! darling!" She embraced Beatrice still more
affectionately, and guided her to a low armchair, into which the
bewildered girl sank unresistingly.
Was Lady Watson in earnest? Was she really her mother? Were these
violent demonstrations genuine? Beatrice could not tell. The whole
thing seemed to be beyond the bounds of possibility. What of the
supposed mother who was buried in Hurstable churchyard? Revolving these
things in a much-puzzled brain, Beatrice sat silently staring at the
artificial little woman who claimed so sacred a relationship. Lady
Watson, seeing the girl's coldness--as she thought it was--squeezed out
a few serviceable tears.
"Oh, cruel, cruel!" she wept. "My own child--the baby that I carried in
my arms--to act like this! It is wicked, it is incredible."
"Mother!" said Beatrice blankly. "Are you really and truly my mother?"
"Of course I am," snapped the elder woman, drying her tears. "How
often do you wish me to repeat it? I am not in the habit of calling
other people's children my children. Can't you say something more
affectionate, you cold-hearted girl?"
"It is all so strange--so new," gasped Beatrice. "Tell me how it came
about that I never knew this until now."
"It's Durban's fault," said Lady Watson sullenly. "Durban always hated
me, though I'm sure I was always kind to him--the beast!"
"Durban is a good man," said Beatrice quickly.
"Oh! dear me, that is exactly the exasperating sort of thing your
father would have said. He was a good man also--the kind of man I most
particularly hate. Never mind, I'll make everything plain to you. I've
held my tongue long enough. Now I am going to speak out, and take back
to my hungry heart the baby girl I loved."
"Did you really love me?" asked Beatrice doubtfully.
"Yes--really I did. You were all that I had to love, as my husband--the
first one, your father--was a kind of stone image with no feelings
and no affections. I loved you fondly, and wanted to be your dearest
mother--which I certainly am--but that Durban and that horrid Alpenny
were too strong for me. No, it wasn't Alpenny. I don't think he wanted
to bring you up; but Durban insisted, and I gave way."
"Why did you?"
"There were reasons," said Lady Watson evasively, and a spot of red
burned on either cheek.
"They must have been strong reasons to make a mother surrender her
child to the care of strangers."
"Durban wasn't a stranger. He was in the house when you were born; and
really you might have been his own child, from the fuss he made over
you. But Colonel Hall--your father, my dear--saved Durban from being
lynched in America, and Durban always pretended that he loved him
dearly."
"I am sure Durban did," insisted Beatrice. "He is not a man who says
one thing and does another."
"That is just what he does do," cried Lady Watson, fanning herself with
a flimsy handkerchief all lace and scent. "Look at the way he has kept
you in the dark all these years. And I am quite sure that he has told
you heaps and heaps of lies! These niggers never can tell the truth."
"Durban told me as little as he could," confessed Beatrice; "but he
never told me a deliberate lie, I am sure. But if you are my mother,
who is the woman who is buried as you?"
"Not as me--the idea!" protested Lady Watson; "as Alpenny's wife--and
a nice bargain she got in that old scoundrel! She was Amelia Hedge,
and called herself Mrs. Hedge when she married Alpenny, to account
for you. It wasn't my fault. I'm sure I always liked to have you with
me, Beatrice, as you were such a pretty child, and it looks well to
have one's children about one, nowadays. But Durban would insist that
I should give you up--and perhaps he was right after all," ended Lady
Watson candidly "as Sir Reginald--my second husband--would never have
married a widow with a child."
So the weak little woman babbled on, and Beatrice felt her heart sink
as she at last beheld her mother. To think that this frivolous and
weak creature should have given her birth! Then a thought came to her.
"Durban said that my mother was quiet and silent."
"And so I was, for years and years and years. Colonel Hall--I never
could call him George, he was so military and stiff--made my life a
perfect burden, and never would give me any pleasure. I was crushed,
Beatrice, perfectly crushed, and held my tongue because I could not be
natural. I was a dull, dowdy thing in those days. But now I really am
something to look at and to listen to!" and Lady Watson smirked in a
near mirror at her artificial beauty.
"Mother," said Beatrice, accepting what appeared to be the inevitable
with a good grace, although the discovery of the relationship did not
please her, "will you tell me if you had anything to do with the murder
of my father?"
"Oh, dear me! no," said Lady Watson perfectly calmly, and showing no
signs of indignation at the accusation,--which it was, in a way. "Of
course Durban made capital out of it, and forced me to part with you
and the necklace because of that horrid death. But I've got back the
necklace"--Lady Watson fingered it fondly--"and you."
"How did you get the necklace?"
"A friend of mine called Miss Carr gave it to me. She got it from her
father, though I don't know how he got it, I'm sure. Major Ruck--you
know the man, dear?--wanted Maud--that is Miss Carr--to give it up, and
would have killed her for it. He's just the sort of bully who would
kill a woman to get money, and I don't mind saying it, although he was
my friend. So Maud, to spite him, gave it to me, and----"
"Wait one moment, mother. Were you not going to elope with Major----"
Lady Watson interrupted in her turn, and uttered an embarrassed scream.
"Yes, I was, my dear. Your father was a bear--there's no good saying
anything else. He was a bear! I couldn't stand his Puritan airs any
longer, and on the very night he was murdered I intended to elope with
him, to pay your father out. But Alpenny met me----"
"At the head of the stairs?"
"Who told you that?"
"Mrs. Snow," said Beatrice promptly.
"Julia Duncan? Ah, she always was a false-hearted cat. Why, the very
last time I saw her, and that was when I went down to get Alpenny's
money, she promised to hold her tongue."
"I forced her to speak."
"And you have forced me, you clever girl. I promised Durban never to
reveal who I really was but I did so, through natural affections; and
now you know. I'm sure I don't care," added Lady Watson with a reckless
air. "Durban can do his worst."
"What can he do?"
"Accuse me of your father's murder, although I'm as innocent as a
child. But I dare say he'll hold his tongue if I pay him well. He was
always fond of money, and Alpenny's legacy has made me rich."
"I don't think Durban can be bribed, nor do I think he is fond of
money," said Beatrice with decision. "But for my sake, he may hold his
tongue."
"Well, I shan't give up the Obi necklace," muttered Lady Watson. "The
Colonel bought it for me; he got it from a Brazilian negro, and said
there was a curse on it,--at least the negro did. For that reason your
father--who really was fond of me, I suppose, although he had a horrid,
dull way of showing his love--would not give it to me. He kept it in a
green box along with his papers beside his bed, and I got it from there
when he was lying dead."
"Did you see him dead?" asked Beatrice, horrified. "Of course I did.
That is why Durban says that I killed him. He always did hate me, the
beast!"
Beatrice passed her hand wearily across her forehead. "I cannot gather
much from these scraps of information," she said irritably; "please
tell me all connectedly and from the beginning."
"Oh, dear me, how very like your father you are!" said Lady Watson,
with an affected shudder. "He was always so very precise: I don't know
how I came to marry so dull a man. But my father made the match. He was
a planter in Jamaica, and Colonel Hall was stationed at Port Royal I
was merely a child--seventeen, in fact--and the Colonel fell in love
with me. I married him, although I liked twenty other men better. Sir
Reginald was one; but he went to England, on leave, and my father made
me marry the Colonel while Reginald was away. He was in a rage when
he came back. Afterwards, when the Colonel died so dreadfully, Sir
Reginald married me, as he knew--if no one else did--that I had nothing
to do with that horrid murder."
"Tell me the events of that night," said Beatrice keeping the voluble
little woman to the point.
"Well, I'm doing it, if you will only let me speak," snapped Lady
Watson; "but you are like your father, and want me to hold my tongue
as he did. I'm sure I never opened my mouth for years with that man.
Shortly after you were born we went to England. Amelia and Durban came
also, as Durban would never leave the Colonel; and Amelia was brought
for your sake, you being a baby--and a very pretty one too. Colonel
Hall went down to see Mr. Paslow at Convent Grange, as they were great
friends. I stopped in London for a time, as I was so sick of the
Colonel's stiffness. Then I came down because he insisted on it. Major
Ruck--who was really a nice man in those days--followed, and stopped at
The Camp, as he wished me to elope with him. On the night of the murder
I arranged to do so."
"Had the Major anything to do with the murder?" asked Beatrice
hurriedly.
"He said he hadn't, but he might have told a lie. He never could tell
the truth," said Lady Watson vaguely. "But as I was saying--and don't
interrupt again, please--I dressed late at night I knew that Mr.
Paslow, and Alpenny, and the Colonel had gone to bed. Your father and
I were in different rooms, because we had quarrelled. I came out into
the passage, and intended to meet Major Ruck at The Camp, where he had
a carriage waiting. Alpenny should have been at The Camp also, only
he stopped at the Grange--to spite me, I believe, as he loved me, and
wanted to prevent my elopement."
"Did he know about it?"
"Yes. He wheedled the information out of the Major, and learned also
that I intended to bring the Obi necklace with me. It was because of
the necklace, as well as because of his love for me, that he stopped at
the Grange to thwart me."
"But the necklace was in my father's possession?"
"In a green dispatch box beside his bed," explained Lady Watson. "You
are quite right, dear; so it was. I stole out into the passage, and
there I met at the head of the stairs that horrid Alpenny, who was on
the watch. Julia Snow was watching also, as she told me afterwards. The
horrid woman, she loved George, and----"
"I know--I know--please go on."
"I am going on," cried Lady Watson in despair; "but you will
interrupt. Alpenny said he wanted to help me to get away, which
was a lie. I believed him, and we went to the Colonel's chamber. I
could easily make some excuse, you know; that I had the toothache or
something, and George would believe me."
"But your dress--your hat?"
"Oh, I took those off and gave them to Alpenny, who remained outside
the bedroom door. When I went in I nearly screamed, for the Colonel
did look so horrid, lying in bed with his throat cut. I could see it
and him, plainly in the moonlight. I called Alpenny, and we were both
afraid. Then I saw the box, and got out the necklace."
"Ugh!" said Beatrice, disgusted at this callous behaviour. "Why didn't
you call for help?"
"What! and be arrested? Everyone knew that George and I were on bad
terms; and besides, with the necklace in my possession, I might have
been accused of killing him. Alpenny said we had better take the
necklace and go away. The window was open, and I suppose the man who
killed the Colonel got in there. I took the necklace, and went out into
the passage with Alpenny, closing the door after me. I put on my hat
and cloak, and then he refused to let me go to The Camp to meet the
Major unless I gave him the necklace. I had to, and then went back to
bed."
"Why didn't you elope?" asked Beatrice sarcastically.
"My dear, my nerves were shattered, and it would have been most
dangerous. I went to bed, and pretended to be horrified when I heard of
the murder. The Major would not marry me when he found that I hadn't
got the necklace; so after the inquest I came to town, and met Reginald
Watson. I told him everything, and he married me."
"But how did my nurse marry Mr. Alpenny?"
"Durban arranged that," said Lady Watson promptly. "He was almost mad
when he found the Colonel was dead, and he forced the truth out of me.
I believe Julia Snow told him what she had seen. I knew Durban would
say nothing, because if he hated me, he loved you and your father.
He did hold his tongue, but he insisted that Alpenny should give the
necklace to him in trust for you. Of course Alpenny would not do so,
and Durban threatened to inform the police. Then Durban, who didn't
know much about English law, thought that he might get into trouble and
be accused. I really don't know," added Lady Watson, pondering, "if I
didn't threaten to accuse him."
"Oh, how could you?"
"Well, he might be guilty. Niggers always prefer to cut throats, and
your father certainly died in that horrid way."
"The man with the black patch killed him?"
"Did he? I heard something about that; but I'm not sure. However, to
make a long story short, Durban arranged that you should be taken
charge of by Alpenny, and that he should look after you along with
Amelia, who was consumptive."
"But why?"
Lady Watson rose wrathfully. "You may well ask that, Beatrice. Why?
Because, if you please, this nigger didn't think I was a proper person
to look after you. Then Amelia refused to go to The Camp unless she
went--as she said, respectably. Alpenny, who was in love with me, and
knew that I intended to marry Sir Reginald, agreed to marry her in
order to keep the necklace. Amelia died shortly afterwards, and for the
sake of safety was buried as your mother: you took her name of Hedge,
you know. That's the story."
"It is a very horrible one," said Beatrice, rising in her turn.
Lady Watson burst into tears. "It is not my fault," she sobbed. "I'm
sure, in spite of Reginald's objections, I would have kept you beside
me; only Durban took you away, and Amelia also, because she wanted to
marry a rich man, as Alpenny was supposed. They knew too much; I had to
yield; and then Reginald thought you were dead. But I have always loved
and longed for my pretty baby. Kiss me, darling!"
"No," said Beatrice sternly.
The little woman looked up aghast. "Your own mother?"
"I do not look upon you as my mother," said the girl coldly. "You
deserted me in the most heartless manner. I don't know how much of your
story is true----"
"It is all true--I swear it."
"It may be, and you may be innocent. But to see my father lying dead,
and not give the alarm, was wicked. The assassin might have been caught
and----"
"I would have been caught!" cried Lady Watson vehemently. "As it was,
people thought that I had something to do with the horrid thing. I was
quite innocent," she protested, sobbing. "Beatrice!"
Her voice rose to a scream as the girl walked to the door for the
second time. "I am going," said Beatrice quietly. "You must give me
time to think over our new relationship. I'll see you again soon."
"Oh!" wailed Lady Watson, as the door closed on the daughter who
rejected her; "how like your father--how very like!"
Beatrice walked calmly down the stairs, and opening the front door
herself, returned to the hotel to think over the matter. At the door of
the little inn she found the stout landlady arguing with a red-haired,
foxy man.
"Waterloo!" said Beatrice, drawing back.
"There," chuckled the rogue, grinning at the landlady, "she knows me
does the young lydy.--Miss, come at once--Durban's dying."
"Durban dying!"
"He'll be dead in a jiffy," said Waterloo, grinning. "You come, miss."
Then dropping his voice, "He wants to tell you who killed your father."