A LITTLE COMMISSION
Lady Isabelle and Lieutenant Kingsland sat on the lawn before the old
manor house in the soft glow of an English afternoon, contemplating the
inevitable. In this case the inevitable was represented by the Dowager,
who was enjoying a peaceful nap not fifty feet away. Only fifty feet of
faultlessly-kept turf separated them from the vials of a mother's wrath;
and in spite of their supreme happiness of the morning, they felt the
presence of this gathering storm which must now be faced--as soon as the
Marchioness awoke--for to wake her would put her in a bad temper, and
her rage promised to be violent enough without any external irritants.
But it happened that while the Dowager slumbered, Miss Fitzgerald,
slipping around the corner of the house, appeared in the background, and
signalling to the Lieutenant to come to her, where they could talk
without awakening the Marchioness, gave him his telegram. He read its
contents once, twice, and a third time, word by word, gave a sigh of
unutterable relief, and then laughed joyously.
"Good news, apparently," commented Miss Fitzgerald.
"The best," he replied. "A crusty old relative, who is no good to
anybody, lies dying in the north of England, and for some unknown reason
has made me his heir-- I must leave at once to see him out of this world
in proper style--but it means I'm a rich man."
"I'm ever so glad. Must you start to-day?"
"I shall go up to London this afternoon, and on to-morrow."
"You'll spend the night in town, then?"
"Yes. I must go to my bank and draw some funds for my journey."
"Then you can do me a favour."
"A thousand, if you want them, after what you've done for me."
"Will you oblige me by taking charge of several chests of Mr. Riddle's
stereopticon views; they're heavy, but fragile and very valuable, and
I've promised him I'd find some one to take them up to town for him, and
put them in safe keeping. Where do you bank?"
"Bank of England, Victoria Street branch."
"Will you leave it in their charge subject to my order?"
"Certainly. How many cases?"
"Five, and they're rather heavy."
"All right. Have the chests put in the luggage cart, and I'll look out
for them. Now I must tell my--why, it's Kent-Lauriston!" and to their
mutual astonishment, they beheld that gentleman standing close beside
them.
"Good afternoon," he said. "You didn't expect to see me? I wired Mrs.
Roberts."
"I know my aunt will be delighted," said Miss Fitzgerald. "Won't you
come into the house?" and she led the way, calling back to the
Lieutenant: "I'll see they're ready. Thank you so much."
Once in the hall, she wasted no time over the unexpected, and to her
unwelcome, guest, but, consigning him to the butler, sped away to give
directions as to the disposition of the chests, and was soon scurrying
across the park to join the patient Secretary, who had had ample
opportunity to smoke his two cigars.
The Lieutenant had in the meantime shown his despatch to Lady Isabelle,
whose face at once assumed an expression very much in contrast to that
of her liege lord's; her brows contracted in a frown, and tears sprang
to her eyes.
"Oh, Jack!" she cried. "You won't leave me now-- I can't spare you. Your
poor uncle Benjamin!"
"But you don't understand!" he cried. "You don't see what it means! The
Steward writes that I'll inherit his property, and that I should come
and protect my interests."
"But he's not dead yet--only very ill," she argued, seeing the
possibilities ahead--yet hoping against hope to win her husband from his
better judgment.
"It's the same thing--they wouldn't have telegraphed for me if it wasn't
the end."
"But it's so far off--nearly to the Scottish border."
"That's all the more reason for hurrying. I must take the first train
for London."
"And leave me!"
"My darling, you must be brave, you must be sensible. If I inherit my
uncle's property, I shall be a rich man, and your mother's scruples will
be removed. It's vital that I should lose no chances--it means
everything to us."
"But is there any danger of your doing so--doesn't the telegram
expressly state that he means to make you his heir?"
"Yes, yes, but there are other relatives as near as I. They'll all be
there, and if they suspect I'm chosen, will try and get him, at the
last, to turn against me."
"But why should you be chosen?"
"Pure cussedness, I think, coupled with the fact that I've never
troubled myself to be even civil to him. His other relatives have spent
their time in fawning about him, and he has seen through it, and led
them a lively dance in consequence. He lived in a beastly old hole of a
place--dull as the water in his own moat. I was sent there as a boy, and
when he tried to cane me for stealing his fruit, I pelted him with
apples. Since I've been old enough to consult my own inclinations, I
have entirely ignored him. I never supposed he'd leave me a penny, and I
wouldn't have let him lead me a dog's life for it, if I had. Now that
he has done so to spite the rest, I shall protect my own interests,
never fear."
"But you'll tell mamma before you go?"
"Most certainly not," replied the Lieutenant, glad of any valid excuse
for putting off what promised to be a rather trying interview. "I should
have to go at once in any event, and I certainly couldn't leave you to
face your mother's wrath alone; besides, now I come to think of it, your
late father was one of uncle's pet detestations, politically, and if a
rumour of my secret marriage were to reach him before the end, it would
be all up with my prospects, and you can easily see what splendid
capital it would be for his precious relatives."
"But mamma might be trusted?" queried Lady Isabelle, feeling that she
was venturing on untenable ground.
"Those who don't know won't tell; besides, my position will be much
stronger as the heir in possession than the heir prospective. Now I must
be off to make my excuses to Mrs. Roberts, and to pack up my belongings,
or some of them, for I don't expect to be gone more than two or three
days at the most, and till then everything depends on keeping the
secret."
"But, Mr. Stanley," she expostulated.
"Oh, pshaw! I forgot him."
"But we mustn't forget him. You know we promised him that we would tell
at once."
"Circumstances alter cases. You must arrange it between you somehow. You
can stave off the evil day with your mother. Say you need time to think
it over."
"You don't know mamma as well as I do, Jack."
"Then refuse absolutely."
"She'd take me away at once, abroad perhaps. She's made up her mind to
this match."
"You must hold it off and on, that is all there is about it. Let her
think you are going to consent, but that you mustn't be hurried."
"But think of Mr. Stanley's position. How would you feel in his place?"
"Now, what's the use of arguing suppositious cases when I'm pressed for
time? Stanley has accepted the position, and he must make the best of
it."
"But if he's afraid Miss Fitzgerald may learn of his proposal to me, and
misunderstand."
"Not much danger of that, as she saw you married this morning."
"But Mr. Stanley doesn't know that Miss Fitzgerald was present at our
wedding. Now, if I could tell him so----"
"Um!" murmured the Lieutenant thoughtfully. "On the whole, I don't think
I would. It wouldn't be quite fair to Belle."
"To Miss Fitzgerald?"
"To Miss Fitzgerald. At least you must gain her consent first."
"But why should she object?"
"Well, to speak quite frankly, her own position in the matter was open
to question. You see, she had some difficulty in arranging the private
marriage, and, out of friendship to me, she did and said certain things
of which an over-conscientious person, like our friend the Secretary,
might disapprove."
"Jack!" she cried, frightened. "Tell me the truth. Swear to me that our
marriage was a true marriage--was legal."
"I swear it, my darling. Hadn't you the special licence to prove it? My
remarks only referred to the means she used to induce the parson to keep
his mouth shut. Not discreditable at all, you understand, and some day,
when I'm at liberty to explain it, you'll see--but we owe it to her to
keep quiet about the whole affair."
"I don't like it, dear--it doesn't sound honest."
"Well, I can't help it. It is all fair and square as far as you are
concerned, and if you like you may tell Miss Fitzgerald all about
Stanley's position, so that he can't injure himself in her eyes. But to
him you must say nothing without her consent--absolutely nothing."
"But this does not settle the matter of the engagement."
"You must manage that as best you can. Stanley can't really be engaged
to you, because you are a married woman; and Belle can't be jealous if
she knows the truth."
"But poor Mr. Stanley--consider his feelings--how needlessly you are
making him suffer. He'll think that Miss Fitzgerald will never forgive
him."
"And a good thing, too, for he's treated her very badly; he deserves to
be made uncomfortable."
"What has he done?"
"Never mind. It's not a story for polite society. But he'll deserve all
he gets, take my word for it. Now run along to the library and see if
you can find our place in that old black letter book of the 'Lives of
the Saints.' It'll be positively necessary for me to look up a reference
or two before starting, to fortify myself for my journey;" and so saying
he entered the house, feeling that in giving Belle the whip hand over
the Secretary, he had more than compensated her for all she had done for
him. But Lieutenant Kingsland was destined to find out that a
whip--especially one with so long a lash--is apt to be a dangerous
instrument in unqualified hands, and may even include the giver in its
whistling sting.
Something over an hour later, the Lieutenant having been duly fortified,
and dispatched on his journey, Lady Isabelle found herself closeted with
her mother in the midst of a most trying scene. The Dowager had placed
before her the manifest advantages of a union with the young diplomat,
and her daughter, incautiously following her husband's short-sighted
advice, had not only seemed to acquiesce in favour of the suit, but had
even overdone the part, in the hopes of thereby inducing such amiability
in her mother, as would lead her to be lenient concerning the final
decision. The result of this was that Lady Isabelle had not,
figuratively speaking, left herself a leg to stand on, and having
admitted all her mother's arguments with a complaisance which could only
argue their ultimate acceptance, came to a standstill the moment a
definite answer was demanded. She agreed to all her mother said, but
could not of herself say yes--or no.
Lady Port Arthur could only attribute her daughter's hesitation to one
of two reasons, either maidenly modesty which prevented her acceding to
her requests--"A most becoming motive, my dear"--the Dowager assured
her--"and one that does you infinite credit, but which, in this
instance, must give way to my superior wisdom, or else----." Here the
Marchioness expressed herself with a heat and bitterness which it would
be hardly fair to put on record for cool and sober reading; referring to
an "inherited obstinacy," which she assured her daughter had come direct
from the late Lord Port Arthur, and had led to a certain amount of
friction in her marital life, and concluding by remarking that--"this
(obstinacy) I have determined to nip in the bud, and crush out with a
stern hand."
She therefore requested an immediate answer. Lady Isabelle, not being of
a strong nature, nor daring to brave her mother's wrath by a direct
refusal, and feeling the impossibility of assent, replied that she had
nothing further to say. This equivocal position proved to be most
disastrous--for it left her mother free to lay down the law, which she
proceeded to do.
"If," she said, "your refusal to answer is due to a foolish access of
modesty, I shall reply in the affirmative for you, and Mr. Stanley will
see the propriety of your attitude, and will, I am sure, excuse its
apparent childishness. If, on the other hand, your motive is due to
obstinacy, I consider myself privileged to interfere in order to save
you from the results of your own foolishness, and I shall still accept
for you. Should you so far forget yourself as to oppose my wishes, I
shall feel that seclusion and rigorous measures will be necessary--we
will leave to-morrow for a six months' course of mud baths in Northern
Bavaria, which will be highly beneficial to me, and will give you ample
time for reflection on the sins of undutifulness and obstinate pride."
The Dowager paused to watch the effect of her threat. It was all she
could have desired.
Lady Isabelle knew Snollenbad by reputation; knew that it was a stuffy,
dull, German, provincial town; loathed mud baths; longed for the
gaieties of the world as a girl longs who has only had one season; and,
worst of all, realised that the settlement of estates and the
limitations of leave would make it a six months' exile from her husband.
She hesitated, and the Dowager, relying on the proverb, felt that she
had won.
"Give me half an hour to consider," she asked.
"There is nothing to consider," replied her mother. "You know what my
course of action will be; the future will depend on yours; but you had
better retire to your room and think matters over;" and she dismissed
her with a gesture.
In spite of her words, however, the Dowager did not feel perfectly
secure, and determined to clinch matters in a manner which, had her
daughter suspected it, would have moved even that vacillating nature to
rebellion. As it was, Lady Isabelle contemplated a confession to Stanley
on his return from the drive, in direct disobedience to her husband's
commands; which, at the eleventh hour, would have sealed her mother's
lips by apprising her of the truth. But fate ordained otherwise, and the
Secretary and Miss Fitzgerald were disgracefully late; giving them
barely time to rush to their rooms, hurry into evening clothes, and
appear in the drawing-room, flushed and breathless as the butler
announced dinner.