There was a fatality about Lady Fleetwood's views and wishes. We see
the same often; and foolish people imagine that there is something in
the character of the individual which so assuredly makes the schemes
of certain persons fail of effect. It is all a mistake. No man has a
mind sufficiently capacious. No man has power sufficiently extensive,
let his wit, wisdom, judgment, command, be as elevated and as infinite
as they may, to grasp and rule the circumstances which surround even
the smallest of his plans, the most insignificant of his actions, and
say, "This shall succeed." He cannot say with certainty, "I will walk
out of that open door."
He may design according to the probabilities which are apparent to
him; he may exercise a keen judgment; he may bring long experience to
bear upon the subject; he may calculate by all that the keenest and
the justest observation has taught him, and he may combine by the
powers of a well-regulated and long-exercised reason: but when he has
done this, he has done all. The rest belongs to fate--which, in other
words, is the will of God. The man who has well and thoughtfully
watched the progress of events must know that there is not a straw so
small that it may not throw down a giant in his course; and if
Napoleon Bonaparte, the pampered child of undeserved success, did
really say--which I do not believe--"I propose, and I dispose too," he
had used to very little purpose the experience of a life.
Still, it must be admitted that Lady Fleetwood's plans were not always
the best calculated: she took too much for granted; she had an
enormous number of very frail ladders, with which she proposed to
scale the high walls that opposed her, and which always broke down at
the very first step she set upon them. In the present instance,
however, she was disappointed, not at all by her own fault. She set
out to see Mr. Scriven at an hour when, perhaps, during the last six
or seven-and-twenty years, he would not have been found absent from
his counting-house on any three lawful days. Nevertheless, Mr. Scriven
was not there when she arrived in the city. The head clerk knew not
where he had gone, nor when he would return, so there was no sending
for him, no waiting for him; and all that Lady Fleetwood could do was
to leave word that she very much wished to see him, if he could call
upon her during the following morning. The head clerk promised to give
him the message faithfully, and Lady Fleetwood went out. The next
moment, however, she returned again, to say that she should be glad if
he could call about eleven; then she returned again to add, that she
would thank him to send for her down into the library; and a third
time she returned to beg that he would not say to any one she had
called to ask for him.
The head clerk knew Lady Fleetwood well, and very readily promised to
deliver all her messages; but they did not get very accurately to Mr.
Scriven's ears, notwithstanding; and on the following day the
excellent lady, having got her niece Maria to go out earlier than
usual, and given her servants due directions, sat in the library ready
to receive her brother--in vain.
Eleven, a quarter past eleven, went by; and Lady Fleetwood, who was as
impatient as a girl of eighteen, tripped lightly up to her own room,
proposing to go out and call upon her brother, as he had not attended
to her summons. The distance was not great; she knew the exact way he
would come; she should either meet him as he came or catch him before
he went into the city.
Poor Lady Fleetwood! she was rarely if ever destined to do what she
intended to do. The servant opened the door for his mistress to pass
out, with his hat and long cane, as was customary in those days, ready
to follow. But, lo and behold! upon the step of the door, with hand
ready stretched out to seize the knocker, appeared a little,
neatly-dressed man, with a shrewd, intelligent countenance. Lady
Fleetwood set him down at once for some tradesman, or some tradesman's
shopman; and being, as I have shown, very careful and economical, she
paused to make inquiries, saying--
"What do you want, my good man?"
"I wanted to speak a few words with Lady Fleetwood," said Mingy Bowes;
for he it was, delivered from incarceration.
"My name is Lady Fleetwood," replied the lady, while Mingy took off
his hat very reverently; "but you see I am going out just now, and
therefore----"
"Ma'am, it's a matter of great importance," said the man, interrupting
her: "it would be much better for you to hear what I've got to say at
once."
"Well, what is it?" asked the old lady, somewhat impatiently.
"I can't tell you here, ma'am," replied the other. "You'd not like it
if I did. If I could say a word to you alone, it would be much
better."
"This is very strange," said Lady Fleetwood, beginning to feel some
degree of alarm, though curiosity predominated, most decidedly. She
looked over the person of Mr. Mingy Bowes with an inquiring glance,
but there was nothing very formidable in the little man's appearance.
When dressed in his best, as on the present occasion, he was decidedly
dapper. Now, nothing that is at all dapper can ever be awful; and
therefore, having considered him well for a minute, Lady Fleetwood
repeated.
"It is very strange. However, come in here with me. John, stand you
near the door, and if my brother comes, show him up-stairs; but don't
you go away from the door yourself, for--for I do not know what this
person wants."
Thus saying, she walked into the dining-room, and Mr. Mingy Bowes
followed, with perfectly well-bred composure.
He shut the door carefully behind him, while Lady Fleetwood seated
herself in an armchair; and pointing to another, on the opposite side
of the room, in order to keep the table between her and her visiter,
begged him to be seated. The worthy gentleman accordingly sat down,
brought the inside of his hat over his knees, and bending forward, so
as to get his head as far across the table as possible, he said, in a
low voice--
"I think, my lady, you're acquainted with a Colonel Middleton: aren't
you, my lady?"
"Yes, sir," said Lady Fleetwood, with a look of surprise; "I've the
pleasure of knowing him very well."
"I think, my lady," rejoined Mr. Bowes, putting on a cunning and
amiable look, "there's like to be a nearer connection--isn't there, my
lady?"
Lady Fleetwood's face flushed with surprise and dismay, to find the
secret of Maria's engagement to Colonel Middleton already known to
such a person as the man before her.
"Good gracious!" she exclaimed, "who told you that? Did Colonel
Middleton himself?"
"Oh, dear, no, my lady," replied Mingy Bowes. "I never saw Colonel
Middleton in all my life, that I know of."
"Then, in the name of heaven, what do you want?" demanded Lady
Fleetwood.
"Why, just a little bit of business, ma'am," answered the dealer in
marine stores; "but before I go on, I should like very much to hear
whether what I have been told by those who ought to know, about there
being such a connection on the carpet, as I may say, is true or not."
Thus pressed, Lady Fleetwood replied, after a good deal of
hesitation--
"Why, I believe it is," to which assertion she added a strongly
confirmatory nod of the head.
"Very well, my lady," continued Mr. Bowes, as soon as he was satisfied
on this point; "then the thing comes to this: you see, that
gentleman--that Colonel Middleton--he's quite a gentleman, I believe,
and I don't mean to say anything against it; but there's a bit of a
secret about him, and that, a secret which might put him in very great
danger if it were to be known to every one. Ay, that it might," he
continued, seeing the consternation on Lady Fleetwood's face growing
deeper and deeper every moment: "why, it might cost him his life,
ma'am, and no mistake."
"Really, this is very terrible!" exclaimed the poor old lady, not
knowing what to say or what to do.
"Why, it is, indeed," replied Mingy Bowes; "but I dare say it can be
managed very easily for a small sum."
"I really do not understand what you mean, sir," said the worthy lady,
her thoughts getting more and more into confusion every moment.
"Why, now, I'll explain it all to you in a minute," replied Mr. Bowes,
in a tone of kind familiarity. "You see, the case is this, ma'am: this
gentleman--this Colonel Middleton--happened by chance the other night
to lose his pocket-book. How he lost it is neither here nor there; but
a friend of mine, a very respectable young man, found it, and looking
in to see whose it could be, he found a whole heap of letters, and
papers, and things, which showed him the whole story about this
Colonel Middleton, and how, though he's a very nice young man, and all
that, his life's in danger in this here country, on account of
something that happened ten years ago."
Lady Fleetwood sat confounded, for her mind and her imagination had
made great progress during the man's statement. Like a finely-balanced
magnetic needle, which has been slightly deranged by some accident,
her judgment had wavered about a good deal, but it pointed right at
last. First, she came to the conclusion, from the man's speech, that
Colonel Middleton was not what he appeared to be, and then that he was
certainly Henry Hayley. How to act, what to say, however, she did not
know, and all she could utter was--
"Well?--well?"
"Well, as you say, ma'am," rejoined Mr. Mingy Bowes, "the matter, no
doubt, will be easily settled; for my friend, who found the book, is
quite inclined to be reasonable. He's quite a shy, timid young man,
and he asked me to arrange the matter for him. 'You know, Bowes,' he
said to me, 'when one has got hold of such a secret as this, it is all
fair that he should make something out of it; but I don't want to
behave at all unhandsome, so I wish you would go and see what can be
done, and I'll content myself with a trifle, Bowes,' he said."
"Is your name Bowes?" asked Lady Fleetwood, who, as I have before
remarked, had a terrible habit of darting off at a tangent.
"Yes, ma'am," replied her visiter; "my name is Bowes--Mingy Bowes, at
your service."
"It's a very good name," said Lady Fleetwood; "there was a Mr. Bowes I
used to know very well, who lived down near Durham. I wonder if you
are any relations."
"No, ma'am; none at all," answered Mingy Bowes; "I never had no
relations at all."
"Oh, dear, yes; you must have had some relations at some time;" and
Lady Fleetwood set hard to work to prove to Mr. Bowes, that at some
time or another he must have had some relations, if nothing better
than a father and mother--a fact which he did not attempt to
controvert, but returned at once, like a man of business, to the more
immediate subject of discourse.
Lady Fleetwood's little excursion, however, had done her good. It had
suffered her mind to repose and compose itself; and if she made any
mistakes now, it was not because she was agitated and confused.
"Well, you see, my lady," continued Mingy Bowes, "I said to the
gentleman who found the book, 'Why don't you go yourself?' 'No, no,'
says he; 'you go: I only want what's fair, and I'll leave you to judge
of that;' so then I said to him, 'What would you think of a thousand
pounds?' So then he answered, 'Well, that will do, though it ought to
be fifteen hundred.'"
This was coming to the point, Mr. Bowes imagined, and doubted not that
Lady Fleetwood would take the matter up at once, as he intended it. He
was a little surprised and disappointed, however, when, after he had
made a dead stop, and waited for a moment or two, the excellent lady
coolly demanded--
"And pray what have I to do with all this? What made you come to me
about it?"
Mr. Mingy Bowes, however, was rarely puzzled for an answer; sometimes
plunging into the rigmarole, sometimes taking refuge in the most
laconic brevity.
"Why, you see, ma'am, we talked that over too," he said. "My friend
wished me to go to the colonel at once about it; but I said, 'No, that
won't be delicate--if there's any friend we could get to break the
matter to him.' 'Well, then,' says he, 'go to Lady Fleetwood--she's
the person. You may give her my solemn word of honour, that if I have
the thousand pounds I'll not say a single word to nobody; and it's
very likely,' says he, 'that she'll never say a word to him about it,
but give the money herself, as she's going to marry him.'"
"What! I?" exclaimed Lady Fleetwood, almost with a shriek; "did he
mean I was going to marry Colonel Middleton?"
"Yes, my lady," replied Mr. Mingy Bowes, almost as much astonished
as she was: "why, you told me so, almost this minute, yourself."
"You impudent person!" exclaimed Lady Fleetwood, angrily. "I should as
soon think of marrying you as Colonel Middleton. I am quite old enough
to be his mother."
"But what you said about the connection," said Mingy Bowes, with a
good deal of perturbation, seeing that he had made one mistake, at
least, and not knowing how far it had gone.
"Oh! now I see," exclaimed Lady Fleetwood. "My good friend, you and I
have been playing at cross purposes all this time. I have no personal
interest in Colonel Middleton whatsoever, though I am told he is going
to be married to a relation of mine."
"Then, hang me if I've not wasted my time!" said Mingy Bowes, starting
up from the table. But just at that moment a bright thought--one of
her own peculiar bright thoughts--came across Lady Fleetwood's mind.
"I must not let this man go away altogether disappointed," she said,
"for fear he should go and make terrible mischief. I see the whole
business as clear as possible now. This Colonel Middleton is poor
Henry Hayley, and Maria knows it. That is the secret she would not
tell me; and she knows, or thinks, that he can prove himself innocent
of the forgery in a few days. Now, if I let this man go away
dissatisfied, he may very likely spoil all their plans. I know nothing
about it: how should I know? And if Maria had thought fit to tell me
all, I might have known how to act; for I'm sure no one was ever more
thoroughly convinced that poor Henry Hayley, however much appearances
might be against him, never did think of forging my brother's name,
than I have always been. As to giving the man a thousand pounds, that
is out of the question, for I haven't got it to give; and if Henry is
innocent, as I am sure he is, there can be no need of it; but yet, if
I send him away disappointed and angry, he may make a fuss, which is
always exceedingly unpleasant."
She puzzled herself sorely as to what was best to be done under these
perplexing circumstances; but at length a notable scheme presented
itself to her mind, for the purpose of gaining time, and suffering the
plans of Maria and Henry Hayley to develop themselves undisturbed.
"Early, the day after to-morrow," she thought, "we set out with Lady
Anne for the North; and if I tell this man to come here at noon on
that day, we shall be gone, Colonel Middleton and all. In the mean
time I can consult about it, and, should there be any necessity, leave
a note or a message, to give explanations and to make arrangements.
The man must see that I cannot decide upon anything at once."
Although thought is very rapid, and though this and a great deal more
passed through the mind of Lady Fleetwood in a very few moments, yet
the pause was sufficiently long to attract the attention of Mingy
Bowes, and make him linger still, in the hope of bringing his
negotiation to some more satisfactory conclusion. Although he was
terribly tempted to say something more, yet like a wise man he
refrained, from a sort of intuitive perception that the weakness of
the other party might do something for him which his own strength
could not accomplish. He did not walk to the door, however, as his
first sudden start up from the table had seemed to promise; and at
length he was rewarded by hearing Lady Fleetwood's voice once again.
"I can have very little to do with this business," she said; "but, at
the same time, as the gentleman is a very intimate friend, and is
likely to be a connection of some members of my family, I have no
objection whatever to talk to him upon the subject, and see what he
thinks fit to do."
Mingy Bowes was very well disposed to listen to this offer, as, to say
truth, he had only come there for the purpose of opening a
negotiation, to be carried to greater advantages at a future period. A
little bluster, however, he thought, might be as well; and he replied,
gruffly--
"Well, ma'am, I hope you'll make haste about it then for we haven't
much time to spare, and my friend must do one thing or the other. So,
if the gentleman says yes, well; and if he says no, well. We can but
go and tell Messrs. Scriven and Co. the whole story after all."
"Dear me!" exclaimed Lady Fleetwood, "you seem to know all the people
about here quite well. Mr. Scriven is my brother. However, I shan't be
able to see and consult anybody till the day after to-morrow. So, if
you like to come here at twelve on that day, you shall have an answer,
yes or no."
"That's a long while, ma'am," said Mingy, with a good deal of affected
sullenness. "I should think, for that matter, a lady like you might
give such a trifle herself, without waiting to consult at all."
"You're very much mistaken, sir," answered Lady Fleetwood, sharply.
"In the first place, I am not called upon to give anything, as the
gentleman is no connection of mine whatever; in the next place, I do
not know whether it would be right to give anything at all; and, in
the third, I should not know how much to give. But at all events you
have my answer, and can come at twelve o'clock the day after
to-morrow, or not, just as you think fit."
"Oh, I'll come," said Mingy Bowes; "but you'd better tell the
gentleman, my lady, that if he does not come down handsome, he's done
to a dead certainty."
"I don't understand what you mean, sir," said Lady Fleetwood; "but, at
all events, I cannot talk any more upon the subject, and therefore
shall beg to wish you good morning. Thus saying, she rang the bell
sharply, and made a ceremonious curtsey to Mr. Mingy Bowes, saying
aloud to the servant who appeared--
"Show that person out, and if he comes at twelve the day after
to-morrow, let me see him."