RECOGNITION
The Court, near Maidenhead, was Lord Charvington's chief country
residence on account of its proximity to London. It was a modern
mansion built in early Victorian days and, in accordance with the
taste of that period, had no great pretensions to architectural
beauty. In fact it might be called ugly, and was a huge, staring
barrack of a place, quite out of keeping with the beauty of the
surrounding grounds. These were of large extent, and so admirably laid
out that they made up for the deficiencies of the building, which,
after all, was comfortable enough within doors, if its external aspect
was uninviting. Modern luxury had made the many rooms very habitable,
and the barn--it looked like a barn--was furnished with the
magnificence of Aladdin's palace.
Lesbia arrived with her hostess in time for afternoon tea and was
speedily introduced to Lord Charvington. There were at least ten
guests of fashionable London stopping for a few days and, while Lady
Charvington chatted with these, her husband made himself agreeable to
Miss Hale. She was very glad to find Charvington so agreeable and
sympathetic, for naturally her first plunge into society made her
somewhat shy. And her host was particularly attentive, quite in a
different way from Lady Charvington's careless hospitality. After a
few minutes' conversation Lesbia felt as though she had known him for
years, and was soon quite at her ease. In fact, Lady Charvington, at
the other end of the room, cast a displeased look in Lesbia's
direction, when she heard her laughing so gaily, and saw how her
pretty face was wreathed in smiles. Charvington was making a fool of
the girl, she thought, and indeed privately deemed it foolish that he
had lifted the girl into a circle so alien to her ordinary life, since
she had neither the money nor the experience to sustain her new
position. However, Charvington had made a point of his cousin's
daughter being asked, so Lady Charvington gave way, as she always did
to her husband in small things.
Charvington was a tall and somewhat stout man, with a fresh-coloured
face and leonine masses of white hair worn somewhat long. He was
clean-shaven, with merry blue eyes filled with vigorous life, and
possessed a strong, calm voice, sympathetic and sweet. His manner was
brisk and lively, and more suited to youth than to age. Not that he
was so very old, for he certainly appeared as lively as the youngest
man in the room. Everyone in the West End knew Lord Charvington, as he
was rich and kind-hearted, two things which beget a very agreeable
reputation. Many a young man had to thank Charvington for help and
advice, and in an unostentatious way he did a great deal of good. When
Lesbia talked with him and became acquainted with his personality, she
no longer wondered that he had acceded so readily to her request for a
loan. The purse of such a genial man was always open to the needy, and
very often to the undeserving.
"I am glad you have come over, Lesbia," he said admiringly, as they
sat in a quiet corner of the room far from the chattering guests.
"Hale did not tell me that you were so pretty. By the way, you must
not mind my calling you by your Christian name. I knew you when you
were but a baby, and it is my privilege, as your elderly cousin, to be
familiar."
"I am very glad you _are_ familiar," said the girl, lifting her eyes
to the strong, kind face, "and I cannot forget that you sent me that
fifty pounds so kindly, without asking what I wished to do with it."
"Pooh! pooh! That is nothing, child. Who should help you but I?
Whenever you are in want of money write to me, and you will receive a
cheque by return of post. I am your cousin, you know. And a very bad
cousin at that," added Charvington, with sudden energy. "I should have
had you here long ago. You must have led a dull life in Marlow."
"No," answered Lesbia quietly, "there was always George."
"Who is George?"
"The man I love."
"Oh!" Charvington's eyes twinkled more than ever; "you are engaged."
"Yes and no."
The man looked puzzled. "What do you mean? I don't like riddles."
Lesbia sighed. "It is a riddle, and a very painful one. For that
reason I accepted your kind invitation and came over. I want to tell
you what I did with the fifty pounds, and also I wish to ask your
advice."
"I shall be delighted to give it, but surely your father--"
"My father"--Lesbia checked a scornful remark which was on the tip of
her tongue--"my father would take no interest in what I wish to tell
you."
Charvington bent his brow and looked at her thoughtfully. "You shall
come to the library in the morning, and there we can have a chat," he
said. "Only one thing I ask you now: your father does not treat you
badly?"
"No," faltered the girl, looking down; she could not betray her
father, although he had behaved so ill. "My father is--well enough,"
she ended lamely.
"Humph!" muttered Charvington, with his eyes still on her face. "Well,
well, we shall see! Meantime have some more tea," and he walked across
the room to have her cup filled.
No more was said for the time being, but Charvington's kind manner
made Lesbia more determined than ever to confide in him. She believed
that she had at length found a friend who would aid her to withstand
the tyranny of her father, and who would assist to put things right
with her lover. They were crooked enough now in all conscience.
Moreover, in any case, she was forced to show him Canning's letter, so
that he might provide against the projected burglary. If she told this
much she would have to tell all, for only by making a clean breast of
it could she be extricated from the mire into which she had sunk,
through no fault of her own. All that evening she longed for the
morning, so that she might tell her new friend the many difficulties
which were making her miserable.
Not that the evening was dull. On the contrary, as the mansion was
filled with lively, well-bred people, it was quite a revelation to
Lesbia in the way of enjoyment. Everyone seemed to be happy and
untroubled by care, which contrasted strongly with the incessant worry
which went on within the four walls of Rose Cottage. These society
people--outwardly at all events--seemed as careless gods, happy,
merry, and gloriously irresponsible. Later in life Lesbia learned what
sadness lurked under this frivolous, laughing exterior, but at this
time she was quite deceived, and thought to herself, "How happy are
the rich and well-born!"
Lady Charvington's two daughters--not yet old enough to be
presented--were very nice girls, although they were decidedly
plain-looking. But they appeared to have none of their mother's
jealousy regarding Lesbia's beauty, and made much of her. She found
herself laughing and talking and entering into their girlish lives,
quite as if she had known them for many years. Lord Charvington seemed
particularly pleased that this should be so, and presided over the
trio like a benevolent wizard. For the most part Lesbia was with the
two girls during her visit, in spite of the attentions paid to her by
sundry youths smitten by her beauty. Seeing this, Lady Charvington
became much more gracious, and inwardly decided that Lesbia Hale knew
her place. All the same she was a trifle uneasy at the way in which
Charvington hovered round the pretty visitor. Not that she cared over
much for her husband, who was older than she was; nevertheless, she
did not like to see him paying marked attentions to anyone else.
On the first evening, there was a small dance after a very splendid
dinner. Lesbia, in her simple white dress, attracted much notice, but
she preferred to talk to Agatha and Lena, Lord Charvington's
daughters, and to laugh at their father's mild witticisms. During a
lull in the dance there was some singing, and towards the end of the
evening an excellent supper. Lesbia retired at midnight, while yet
the festivities were in full swing. This was at Lord Charvington's
express wish, as he did not approve of youth losing any necessary
beauty-sleep. When she laid her head on the pillow and was falling
asleep, Lesbia confessed that she had enjoyed herself greatly. If
George had only been present the evening would have been perfect.
Next morning, Agatha and Lena woke her early and took her round
the grounds. The girls exchanged confidences--chiefly about school
life,--ran races on the dewy sward, and entered filled with the joy of
life to eat a surprisingly good breakfast. Lady Charvington was rather
astounded at Lesbia's appetite. So pretty a girl, she decided, should
eat less and talk less. But Lesbia, although a fairy in looks, could
not live on fairy food, and enjoyed to the full the excellent meal
provided by the very capable chef of her host. "Horrid, greedy, pert
girl," thought Lady Charvington, who was all smiles and attention. "I
am sure I shan't like her!"--quite a needless thought, as she already
heartily disliked her visitor for other reasons than because she was
pretty. But these reasons Lesbia did not learn for some months. Then
they did not matter, as life had changed by that time for the better.
After breakfast, Lord Charvington carried off his pretty little guest
to a noble room lined with books, and placing her in a most
comfortable arm-chair, took his own seat at his desk. "Now, my child,
what is it?" he asked.
"It is rather difficult to begin," faltered Lesbia, feeling if she had
the fatal letter in her pocket.
"Not with me, my dear. You know that you can trust me implicitly."
"Yes," said Lesbia, raising her clear eyes to the kind face. "Well
then I shall begin from the time I gave George the amethyst cross."
"What?" Charvington's ruddy face grew pale, and he pushed back his
chair with considerable violence; "the amethyst cross!"
"Do you know anything about it?" asked Lesbia, astonished by his
change of colour and evident emotion. "It is lost you know--stolen."
"Who stole it?" demanded the man mastering himself with an apparent
effort.
"Listen," said Lesbia, and related everything from the time George
Walker had proposed to the moment of Lady Charvington's arrival at
Rose Cottage. But for the moment she said nothing of the letter from
Canning. That could keep until she heard what Charvington had to say
to the first part of her story. And it may be mentioned that Lesbia
spared her father as much as possible, while explaining her
difficulties.
After his first violent movement, Lord Charvington listened in dead
silence, and his colour slowly returned. With his eyes averted, he
heard the whole extraordinary tale, without interruption, and only
when it was concluded did he speak. Then he gave but small comfort. "I
cannot understand what it all means," he said slowly. "I shall see
Hale, and doubtless he will be able to explain matters. But have no
fear, child, if you love George Walker, you shall marry him. I know
Mrs. Walker, and I knew her husband. A wild fellow was Aylmer Walker,
but not without his good points."
"And you won't let my father have me watched again," said Lesbia
anxiously.
"Certainly not," cried Charvington fiercely. "If I had known that, I
would have--but that's neither here nor there. Your father owes me too
much to disregard my wishes. I shall see that he leaves you your full
liberty and that he consents to your marriage with George. I hope he
is worthy of you, my dear--George I mean," he added wistfully.
"Oh yes. He's the dearest, sweetest, best----"
"There! There!" Charvington smiled a trifle drily. "I can see that
your heart is set upon being Mrs. Walker. Very good. I shall see that
George has an opportunity of earning money, so that you can marry
him."
"And the cross?"
"Never mind the cross just now," said Charvington hastily. "I shall
have to see your father about that. Later we can talk on the subject.
But this Tait," he drummed anxiously with his fingers on the table;
"I knew Tait many years ago. He always was a scoundrel, although I
did not think he would go so far as to join himself with professional
thieves----"
"Oh," Lesbia drew the letter of Canning from her pocket, "I forgot.
Read this, Lord Charvington. It's a warning--only don't tell the
police."
Her host mounted his pince-nez and read the missive in surprise. His
face grew a dark red, and he muttered a word which Lesbia luckily did
not overhear. Then he folded the letter and placed it in his pocket
without remark.
"You won't tell the police," said Lesbia again and still anxiously.
"No," said Charvington, rising, "from what Canning found out before, I
believe Tait is in this business also. I don't want for several
reasons to make a scandal connected with the man, although he deserves
to be gaoled for life. Still, I shall take precautions by having the
house watched. Also I must get my wife to put away her jewel-casket in
the safe. She is very careless about her jewels, and leaves the casket
in her bedroom, sometimes in a drawer or wardrobe, but more often open
on the dressing-table. The maid should put it away, of course, but
she's a half-blind old creature who was my wife's nurse, and neglects
things. But to-day is Wednesday and the burglary is arranged for
to-morrow evening when we dine. I shall see that my wife puts away her
jewels to-morrow evening. I shall go to her room and see that they are
safe before I go to dinner."
"But why not to-day also?" asked Lesbia anxiously.
"The burglary is not until to-morrow evening, child," said Charvington
kindly. "They are safe until then, as they have been safe for years in
spite of my wife's gross carelessness and trust in her neglectful old
nurse. No, my dear, you have given me a needed warning, so it is no
use bothering your head further. To-morrow, I shall make all safe.
When these two thieves find that the house is guarded, they will not
attempt the robbery."
"Will you warn Lady Charvington?"
"What! and have her fall into hysterics? No. I shall merely see that
the jewels are locked up nightly after to-morrow, and have the house
watched for a week or so. My wife need know nothing, my dear."
"I shall keep my own counsel," said Lesbia, rising to leave the room,
"but I do wish you would have the jewels put away to-night, Lord
Charvington."
"Well," he smiled kindly, "perhaps, as you are so anxious I shall.
But, as we know the time and date of the projected burglary, there is
no need."
Lesbia went away, comforted to think that Charvington now knew all her
troubles, and would help her when it was necessary. Doubtless he would
procure George a good situation, and then she could marry her lover.
But the emotion of Charvington, when the amethyst cross was mentioned,
puzzled Lesbia greatly, as there appeared to be no reason for it.
However, she comforted herself with the reflection, that--as he had
promised--he would explain everything when the appointed time arrived,
and went to enjoy her holiday with the two girls. The enjoyment took
the form of a picnic and a run down the river on Lord Charvington's
fine steam launch.
When the girls were out of the way, Charvington sought his wife and
pointed out to her the folly of leaving a case full of rich jewels on
her dressing-table. "They might be stolen," he remonstrated.
Lady Charvington was not at all grateful. "You are always making a
fuss over the jewels," she said impatiently. "I have left the case in
my bedroom for years and I have never lost a single thing."
"That doesn't say you might not lose the lot," snapped Charvington,
who found his wife trying even to his kindly nature.
"There's time enough to talk when I do lose them."
"Then it will be too late. I ask you to put them away every night in
the strong-room. Bertha can take the case there, when she has dressed
you for dinner."
"Very well," said Lady Charvington, who was impatient to return to a
very interesting book she was reading. "I'll tell Bertha, though I'm
sure if the case is in my bedroom she can look after it well enough."
"Pooh. She's half blind. Why don't you get a better maid?"
"Bertha's been with me all my life, and I shall keep her until she is
past work. You have no heart, Charvington," she ended virtuously.
"She's past work now," said her husband, as he stalked from the
boudoir.
Nothing more was said, but had Charvington been in the house on that
Wednesday evening he would either have asked his wife if the jewels
had been put away, or have attended to the matter himself. But during
the day he suddenly decided to go up to London in order to see a
private detective whom he had employed before on various delicate
matters. It would be just as well, thought Charvington, to have this
man in the house on Thursday evening. Then, if the two thieves alluded
to by Canning did arrive, the man could lay hands on them. Not that
Charvington wished to make a public case of the matter, since, as he
had hinted to Lesbia, he was anxious to avoid scandal in connection
with Tait, whom he shrewdly suspected of having a hand in this new
piece of rascality. For this reason he went up to London to engage the
private detective, and remained in town for the night. Next day he
purposed coming back with his assistant and then the matter could be
settled quietly. Lady Charvington would not lose her jewels, and there
would be no trouble--publicly at all events--in connection with Mr.
Michael Tait.
All that Wednesday Lesbia enjoyed herself on the river with her host's
daughters, in spite of the launch's breaking down temporarily on the
way back, in consequence of some accident to the engines. Consequently
it was not until seven o'clock at night that the three girls arrived
in Maidenhead, and it was thirty minutes past when they came to The
Court. Lady Charvington, who had been anxious about their non-arrival,
expressed herself as annoyed at their failure to be in to dinner,
which was at seven o'clock. She sent a message saying that Agatha and
Lena were to dine in their school-room with the governess. Lesbia
feeling herself a culprit--although on the face of it not one of the
three was to blame--decided to dine with the girls and to make her
apologies afterwards to Lady Charvington. And a very merry dinner they
had, for the governess was a charming, middle-aged lady, who made
everything very pleasant. And then the love of Agatha and Lena for
their newly-found cousin grew with every hour. On the whole, Lesbia
enjoyed that school-room meal more than the splendid dinner of the
previous night. She was the more pleased that she had remained absent,
as she was told by the governess that Lord Charvington was away in
London.
After that merry meal, Lesbia went to change her dress in order to go
down to the drawing-room. Agatha and Lena followed to chatter and
help, as they did not like to be separated from their visitor.
Lesbia's room was on the first floor, near that of the girls, and on
the way the three had to pass the door of Lady Charvington's bedroom.
It was closed, but as they passed they heard a shriek of alarm, and
opening it at once saw one man escaping by the window, and another
struggling with Bertha, the ancient maid. Agatha and Lena ran away
screaming for help, but Lesbia dashed forward to help the old woman.
At that moment the man--who wore a mask--threw Bertha on the ground
and ran towards the window. Lesbia caught him before he could fling
his leg over the sill, and tore off the mask. Then she uttered a cry
of dismay and terror.
"Father!" she shrieked, and dropped down in a dead faint.