THE BUTLER’S PANTRY.
Nancy spent an almost sleepless night, and awoke the next day with a
headache. She got up earlier than usual, and went downstairs. Murray was
waiting for her in the hall—as usual, the boarhound, Roy, accompanied
him.
“Roy wants to make friends with you, auntie,” said the child. “Come, Roy,
come forward, do allegiance.”
The dog turned his eyes on the bright childish face, then he walked
straight up to Nancy, lay down at full length at her feet, and tried to
lick her shoe with his tongue.
“There, you belong to us now,” said Murray, delighted. “Is not Roy
wonderful? I whispered all that to him this morning. He seems to
understand almost as if he were a person. It is so nice to think that
there are three of us all of one mind—you, and Roy, and I. I know I shall
be awfully happy at Rowton Heights in the future.”
“Come to breakfast now, Murray,” said Nancy, holding out her hand.
He clasped it in his and danced into the breakfast room by her side.
“This is Sunday,” he said presently, giving her a glance, as bold and
direct as Rowton’s own.
“Yes,” replied Mrs. Rowton.
“Sunday means church. Are you going to church?” asked the child.
Nancy remembered Rowton’s wish on that subject.
“I don’t want to,” she said, “for my head aches; but all the same I shall
go.”
“That is awfully brave of you,” replied Murray. “I am delighted, for
I always have to go, and I have to sit in that dull old square pew by
myself. I hope, auntie, now that you have come to Rowton Heights, you
will get the Rowton pew altered, and made like everybody else’s. It is so
dull not to see the congregation.”
“Is the pew so high as all that?” asked Nance.
“Yes; if you sit down—I mean if you happen to be a child—you are quite
lost to the congregation. Perhaps _you_ will be seen, and perhaps you
will see, for you are tall. I like tall girls. I shall marry a very tall
girl when I grow up.”
Nancy could not help smiling. The boy’s chatter, the gaiety of his sweet,
high laugh, the look in his eyes, ever and always reminding her of
Adrian, gave her more pleasure than she knew.
“I see we shall be capital friends,” she said, looking at him
affectionately. “We’ll often talk together of that tall girl whom you are
to marry. Now come out into the grounds; a little of the fresh air may
take off my headache.”
They walked about for some time, and then a beautifully-appointed
carriage being brought round, Nancy ran upstairs to put on her bonnet and
mantle, and she and Murray drove to church together.
After all, Rowton did not come back in time to go with them. Nancy’s
heart sank within her. She did not want to face the eager and curious
congregation without him. Her life had been so solitary for such a number
of years that she was often affected by almost painful shyness—she felt
queerly shy now, and quite trembled as she walked up the little church.
A verger went before her, opened the family pew with much ceremony,
and ushered in the bride and Murray Cameron. Murray had very quick
perceptions. He seemed to guess all that Nancy was feeling—accordingly he
sat close to her, seeming to take possession of her. He found her places
for her, and saw that she was accommodated with a comfortable footstool;
now and then his eyes fixed themselves on her lovely face; when he saw
that it looked pale and sad, he slipped his little hand into hers.
The service was about half way through, when the pew door was suddenly
opened, and, to Nancy’s surprise, and indescribable delight, Rowton came
in. He just glanced at her and then seated himself at her other side.
His face looked perfectly serene and contented. Nancy’s face now shared
the look of apparent happiness which was seen on his. All her depression
vanished on the instant—she felt comforted, soothed, blissful. He had
gone away, but he had come back again; the first separation was over; how
full of delight were the joys of reunion!
After church Rowton stopped to speak to one or two friends. He introduced
Nancy to an old lady with a kindly face, and beautiful grey hair.
“This is my wife, Lady Joyce.”
Lady Joyce favoured Nance with a piercing and yet kindly glance. She held
out her hand cordially.
“I am delighted to see you, Mrs. Rowton,” she said. “I hope to have the
pleasure of calling on you to-morrow. It was a good day for us all when
this young man married and elected to bring his bride back to Rowton
Heights.”
Rowton smiled and said something in a light tone. His remark, of a
trivial nature, amused the old lady; she laughed in a very hearty way,
shaking her sides as she did so.
“Ah! you always were a sad dog,” she said. “Don’t forget that I have
known you since you were as tall as that little lad,” pointing to Murray
as she spoke. “Mrs. Rowton, I’ll have plenty of tales to tell you of that
good husband of yours when we get better acquainted—so you had better
keep in my good graces, young man, for you were a pickle when you were
young.”
The good lady hobbled off to her carriage as she spoke. Rowton helped her
in, and presently Nance, he, and the boy, returned home.
The rest of the day passed without anything special occurring. Rowton and
his wife took a walk together. In the evening they sat in the library and
Rowton told her stories with regard to several of the books. He never
alluded to the sorrow which he knew was waiting for her the next day.
“Time enough,” he said to himself; “I need not leave here till three
o’clock in the afternoon—there is a train at three-thirty which will take
me to King’s Cross in sufficient time. Let me see, I need not tell her
to-night, nor will I tell her to-morrow, until after lunch; we’ll have
what happiness we can. After all it may be all right, and I may come back
safe and sound, or——” he paused in his own thoughts. A picture rose up
before his eyes. He saw himself a corpse, shot through the heart—such
an event was more than probable. He knew that he was going into grave
danger—that, in very truth, he was about to carry his life in his hand.
“No matter, but for her,” he said to himself. “I am sick of the whole
thing, and to die fighting would be the heart of my desire; but I cannot
leave her to face what may any moment be before her. No, I must court
caution this time—I must avoid risks. Her happiness must come first with
me—_her_ happiness! Ah! Nance, what are you looking at me so earnestly
for?”
“I see you are not reading,” said Nancy, flinging down her own book.
“No more I am,” he replied. “Come and sit on my knee, little woman. By
the way, I have a piece of work for us both to-morrow.”
“What is that?” she asked.
“I want us to overhaul the family plate.”
“Have we much plate?” asked Nance.
“Have we much plate?” he answered, mimicking her tone; “something like
three or four thousand pounds’ worth I should say.”
“Adrian!”
“Well, wait until I show it to you to-morrow. My grandfather was
celebrated for collecting plate. A good deal of it was mortgaged when my
father got into difficulties, but we managed to rescue almost the whole
of it. I want to have it all out to-morrow, for I have ordered a special
safe of a peculiar make to be sent down from town. Of course there are
several men servants in the house; but it is not well to have such a lot
of plate unless perfectly secured. I have ordered a safe, however, which
would baffle the efforts of the most accomplished burglar in the world.
Now let us talk no more about it. If you are not tired, I am. Remember, I
was up the whole of last night—suppose we go to bed.”
“I am so sleepy that I can scarcely keep my eyes open,” said Nancy.
“All right, come upstairs.”
The night was over, and the next day, immediately after breakfast, Rowton
and Nancy, accompanied by Mrs. Ferguson, the housekeeper, went to the
butler’s pantry, where a show of magnificent plate was arranged for them
to view.
“This is not all by any means,” said Rowton, running his eyes over the
articles as he spoke. “Where are the gold-plated things? I don’t see
them.”
“In this chest, sir,” said Mrs. Ferguson.
“Open it, pray. I want Mrs. Rowton thoroughly to understand in what her
property consists.”
The chest in question, a very heavy one, which was standing on the floor,
was opened by a curious mechanism of keys which completely puzzled Nance.
Its contents made a dazzling show; gold-plated spoons of every size and
shape, forks, large and small, dessert knives and forks; in short, a
complete assortment for the requirements of a good-sized party stood
revealed before her.
“See,” said Rowton, taking up one, “these spoons have all got the Rowton
crest on them, and just where the crest ends, a ruby of great value has
been introduced. They are unique of their kind and are undoubtedly almost
priceless.”
“Heaven preserve us, sir,” said Mrs. Ferguson; “I often tremble in my
shoes when I think of the plate that is in this house. Why, it would
tempt any burglar in the land. I say to Vickers, ‘Vickers, never show
this chest to any of the young footmen—you never can tell what friends
they have outside.’ That was why I did not open it, sir, until your good
lady and you were in the room.”
“Quite right, quite right,” said Rowton; “it would, as you say, never
do to let this kind of thing get abroad. I have often half an idea to
transfer this chest to the bank at Pitstow; but on second thoughts, what
is the use of having pretty and valuable things if we do not use them?
Now then, Mrs. Ferguson, open the secret spring of the safe and bring out
the jewel case.”
“If you have no objection, sir, I’ll first of all lock the pantry door
and draw down the blind.”
“As you please, my good soul; but you don’t suppose that burglars are
about at this hour?”
“No, no, sir, of course not, but it’s best to make all safe.”
Rowton stood very upright, with an inscrutable smile on his lips which
Nancy remembered by-and-by, as Mrs. Ferguson locked the door, and drew
down the venetian blind. The room was now in semi-darkness, but there was
plenty of light to see the brilliancy of the magnificent diamond necklet,
which he presently lifted out of its velvet case.
“Here,” he said to Nance, “this is yours.”
“Mine?” she answered, her colour coming and going.
“Yes, yours—you shall wear it at the ball. There are heaps of other
things, but I flatter myself that the necklet has scarcely its second,
certainly not in the county, and perhaps not in the kingdom. I’ll give
you its history some day. Ah! it could tell several tales if it could
but speak! Here are rubies—magnificent, are they not?”
“Yes, yes,” said Nancy; “how they shine, they seem to fascinate me.”
“Jewels of such value often have that effect on people,” said Rowton.
“What is the matter, Mrs. Ferguson? You look quite scared!”
“I never knew those things were here,” said Mrs. Ferguson. “It’s
a-tempting of Providence—they ought not to be in the house, that they
ought not. It’s enough to frighten me into leaving my situation.”
“What! you would leave us?” said Rowton.
“No, no, sir, you know I would not; but to have diamonds and rubies like
those! why, they flash so it is enough to tempt one. There’s something
awful uncanny about them. Oh! I don’t say that they are not beautiful;
but they look like evil eyes fastening on one—they ought not to be here,
sir, in a lonely country house—they ought not, really.”
“I agree with you, Mrs. Ferguson,” said Rowton, “and I shall take
measures to have all this valuable plate and these jewels properly
secured. This old safe, strong as it looks, is practically of no use at
all. I have ordered another down from town. It will arrive to-morrow or
the next day, accompanied by several experts, who will give you, Vickers,
Mrs. Rowton, and myself, the cipher of how it is worked. No one will be
able to open the safe who does not understand the cipher.”
“Then, sir,” said the housekeeper, “I beg to say at once, that no
consideration on earth will make me learn it. I’d rather lose a thousand
pounds than know how to open that safe.”
“Nonsense, woman,” said Rowton, the colour coming into his face as he
spoke. “I think that will do now. Put the jewels back again, and the gold
plate and the rest of the things. They have lain here for many a month,
not to say years, and they may well stay here in safety for a few days
longer. Now come along, Nance mine, I want to take you to the stables. Do
you know anything about riding?”
“I used to ride when I was a girl, and when we lived in Harley Street,”
said Nance.
“Ah! true,” he said, linking her arm in his and drawing her away from the
pantry.
Vickers, the butler, was standing outside. He was an elderly man, stoutly
built, with a good-natured and good-humoured face.
“Go into the pantry and help Mrs. Ferguson put away the plate,” said his
master.
“Yes, sir,” replied the man.
He disappeared immediately, and Nancy and her husband went out of doors.
“I forgot,” he said, “that up to the age of—how old were you, Nance, when
you left Harley Street?”
“Fifteen,” she replied.
“Up to the age of fifteen you had all the things which rich girls
possess.”
“Yes, all,” she answered, tears springing suddenly to her eyes. “The best
home, the best father, the most loving mother——” she bit her lips and
could not go on. She had a vision before her at that moment of Anthony’s
splendid young strength, of his courage, his nobleness. She knew now of
whom Murray reminded her. He was like Rowton in feature, but, in heart
and mind, he was Anthony’s counterpart.
Rowton glanced at her face and guessed something of her thoughts.
“Sweetheart,” he said with a certain gravity which was full of sweetness;
“I see that as far as possible, I must banish memory from you. You must
live, my beloved, in the glorious present, and forget all those shadows
of your early youth.”
“But why forget its sunshine?” she answered.
“Yes, you must even forget its sunshine,” he replied; “for that sun of
long ago casts a deep shadow on you now.”
“It does,” she answered, “it does.”
“You will try to forget it?”
“I will,” she replied.
They reached the stables, and he showed her a thoroughbred mare,
spirited, obedient to a touch, gentle as a lamb, with a mouth like silk,
and a coat which shone like the brightest satin.
“Ho! Bonny Jean,” said her master. The creature raised its perfect
head—it had a white star on its forehead—whinnied in some excitement, and
thrust its nose into Rowton’s hand.
“This is your mistress, Bonny Jean,” said Rowton again. “You must resume
your riding lessons, Nancy,” he continued. “Murray can sit any horse
that ever was broken in, or unbroken in for that matter, and when I am
not here, he must accompany you—you must ride a good bit. After a little
practice you’ll be able to follow the hounds.”
“And you,” she answered, “which is your horse?”
He showed her a beautiful hunter, which went by the name of Peregrine.
“These two make a perfect pair,” he said. “We’ll have many a good canter
on their backs. By the way, I must order a habit for you. I will the next
time I go to town.”
Nancy did not reply.
The happy morning passed all too swiftly. Lunch was scarcely over before
the sound of wheels on the gravel proclaimed the first of the visitors
who were calling to pay their respects to the bride.
The lady who drove up now was one of the characters of the
neighbourhood—her name was Lady Georgina Strong. She drove herself, and
stepped lightly down from the high dog-cart, throwing the reins as she
did so to her groom.
Rowton and Nance were standing on the steps of the beautiful old house
when she appeared.
“Welcome to Rowton Heights,” said Rowton, taking off his hat and
advancing to meet her.
She held out her hand to him, and favoured him with a frank and
scrutinising glance.
“How do you do?” she said in a brisk, high voice; “and so this is the
baby—come here, baby, and be introduced.”
[Illustration: “How do you do?” she said, in a brisk, high voice.—_Page
119._]
In some astonishment Nancy ran down the steps.
Lady Georgina gazed at her out of two dark bright eyes, which were
rendered more intensely brilliant by means of her _pince-nez_.
“Ah!” she said, “you are a pretty, fair little girl—no wonder you bowled
him over. I was curious to see what sort of a woman could take that
fortress. I have known him for close on twenty years—off and on, that
is—and I never yet, poke as I would, pry as I would, search as I would,
discovered that he had the vestige of a heart. Where did you find it, my
dear—under the fifth rib, eh?”
Nancy laughed, but without much cordiality; she did not understand this
dashing dame. Rowton, however, seemed to enjoy her badinage thoroughly.
“Come in,” he said, “come in. You have arrived in the nick of time. You
always were the most good-natured woman in the world, Lady Georgina, and
I trust to your kind clemency for the present moment.”
“Anything that I can do for you, my good friend, you are more than
welcome to,” she answered. She walked on with him—he led her into the
largest of the drawing-rooms. Nancy followed slowly. Rowton glanced back
and saw her at some little distance—she had stopped to speak to Murray,
and to caress Roy, who was fast becoming her slave.
“One moment,” said Rowton abruptly, turning and speaking with eagerness.
“I am obliged to leave that child in less than half an hour. I am going
away.”
“One of the mysterious absences?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Will you be good to her until I come back?” he whispered.
There was no time to add any more.
“I will, I will,” said Lady Georgina.
Nance came up to them.