CONSTERNATION OF THE COOLIDGES
During all those hours so full of adventure to Brownie, Mrs. Coolidge
and Isabel had been sleeping heavily, for both had been well-nigh
overcome with the excitement of the evening previous, and a sense of
their own guilt in the matter of the young companion’s disappearance.
They did not wake until quite late the next morning, when Mrs.
Coolidge’s first act was to order a good hot breakfast, telling the
servant that she did not feel able to go down to eat with the family.
As soon as the servant departed, and she was assured that the guests
were all assembled in the dining-room, she crept into Isabel’s room, and
together they sought their prisoner.
They drew the bolt, and pushed the door open cautiously. All was silent
and dark within, for the candle had burned down to the socket, and then
gone out.
They entered and called Brownie by name.
There was no reply, and with a nameless fear in her heart, Isabel rushed
back into her own room, lighted another candle, and returned to explore
the cell.
One glance served to show that it was empty!
But with the vain hope that all guilty people have they began turning
over the mattress and bedclothes, as if they expected to find her
concealed underneath them.
“Where can she be?” gasped Isabel, white as the wrapper which she wore,
and shaking as with the ague.
Mrs. Coolidge shook her head, and looked up at the small grated window
above them.
She mounted upon the chair, and seizing one of the heavy bars, shook it.
It did not so much as move, and even had it been possible to remove it,
their captive could not possibly have reached the window to escape, it
was set so high in the wall.
“Isabel, I firmly believe that girl is a witch, for none but a spirit
could have escaped from this dungeon!”
“Mamma,” exclaimed her daughter, suddenly, “I do not believe you
fastened the door last night, and she came out when we were asleep!”
“How foolish you are,” was the impatient reply. “I am very sure that I
shoved the bolt, and I do not believe it possible that she could have
worked upon the door in any way to have slipped it back.”
However, to satisfy themselves, they went out, shut and bolted the door,
and then tried, by gentle working it back and forth, to see if the bolt
would slip.
No; it remained firm and tight, and the matter still continued to be a
mystery, and a terribly tantalizing one, too.
They tried all the different doors leading from their own rooms into the
corridors, but all were locked, excepting the one by which the servant
who had brought the breakfast had entered, and Mrs. Coolidge had been
obliged to rise to admit her, so that they knew it could not have been
possible for Brownie to have escaped that way.
They knew well enough if Brownie had escaped and returned to her post,
that the deepest shame and disgrace awaited them.
They little thought, however, during their anxious and almost ludicrous
search in the cell, a pair of keen, bright eyes had been earnestly
regarding them, while it must be confessed that Herbert Randal never
enjoyed anything in his life so much as their anxiety and discomfiture
regarding the beautiful maiden whom he had so opportunely aided.
The two disappointed plotters were, however, somewhat reassured, upon
descending to the drawing-room, to find that Brownie’s disappearance was
still the theme of conversation, together with the startling
announcement which Adrian Dredmond had made.
Lady Randal looked anxious and annoyed, and was somewhat irritable.
Lady Ruxley was too ill to rise, being overcome with solicitude as to
the fate of her companion, a fact which was received with the most
cheerful resignation by most of the company, since it relieved them from
the sting of her sharp tongue.
Sir Charles was very grave and preoccupied, and while he was not exactly
cool, yet there was a certain dignity about him which somewhat awed his
betrothed. There were some things which he could not understand, in
particular, Adrian’s stern words and manner to Mrs. Coolidge, which the
more he thought about them the more mysterious and inexplicable they
became.
Altogether it was not the happiest company in Christendom that assembled
in the Vallingham Hall drawing-room that morning.
Every door that opened made Isabel and her mother quake with fear, and
both would gladly have given up every jewel in their possession to have
been freed from that horrible suspense.
Several days passed, and still there was no news. Their anxiety began to
abate, and with every passing hour they breathed more freely, yet that
puzzled, wearing question was ever before them:
“Where is she?”
The drawing-room concert, or musical _soirée_, came off according to
appointment, but did not prove very satisfactory. It was not really a
failure, but there was a lack of inspiration which made everything drag,
and it was with a uniform sense of relief that at the end of the week
the gay company dispersed, while Sir Charles, Lady Randal, Isabel, and
her mother departed for Paris, intent upon the all-important
_trousseau_.
The two latter were only too eager to plunge into the pleasures of the
gay French metropolis, and busy themselves with the cares which the next
few weeks would involve, hoping thus to drive more unpleasant thoughts
out of mind.
* * * * *
When Adrian Dredmond recognized his betrothed in the dim light of that
dismal morning, he sprang forward with a cry of joy, mingled with
dismay, and folded her close within his arms, while Brownie, utterly
overcome by the reaction from excessive fright to a sense of security,
and that her troubles were all over, burst into nervous sobbing, and
clung to him with a grip so fierce that he was startled.
“My darling, my darling, what does all this mean?” he asked, soothingly.
But she could not tell him; the floodgates were open, and the storm must
spend itself ere the calm would come; the restraint which she had
imposed upon herself had been so resolute and of such long duration
that, now she had once given the rein to her feelings, it was not easy
to regain her self-control.
“My precious one,” Adrian continued, “I have been searching for you all
night long. I came hither to see you last evening, and they told me you
had disappeared in the most mysterious manner. Not knowing which way to
turn to find you, I started for Dunforth again in despair, but something
seemed to be holding me back, and I have roamed over the park and the
forest, the highways and byways, all night. As daylight approached, I
resolved to return to the Hall and inquire if any clew had been gained
during the night, and then I saw you coming through this grove. Dearest,
how cold you are,” he added, tenderly, “and how you tremble. Did I
frighten you? Come back into the shadow of yonder chapel, and tell me
how it is that I find you thus alone and unprotected from the cold night
air.”
He wrapped his cloak about her, for the mist was settling down into a
fine rain, while the air grew more piercing and chill, and he almost
bore her back to the door of the old chapel, where they were screened
from observation and protected somewhat from the wind.
He chafed the little icy, quivering hands, and kissed the warmth and
color back to her pale cheeks. But it was long before she was herself
again, for now that she realized that she was safe, her strength all
forsook her, and she lay almost lifeless in his arms. But at last she
was able to whisper something of the story of her fearful experience,
and a mighty wrath arose in his heart against the authors of it all.
“I mistrusted they might have had some hand in it last night, but they
shall pay dearly for this shameless insult to you, my dearest,” he
muttered, between his set teeth.
Then he became suddenly silent and thoughtful, but still holding her
form in his loving embrace, until she grew warm and strong again, while
a sense of security and happiness began to steal over her, until she
felt that she could return to the Hall, if need be, and face them
without a tremor, with him by her side.
But he had been revolving other matters in his mind. He had been greatly
startled and surprised to learn that Lady Randal had another son, and
had been criminally concealing it all these years, and he classed her
with the others as a false and heartless woman.
He knew that Lady Ruxley was very fond of her companion, but he knew her
temperament, and was unwilling that Brownie should remain longer with
her in that capacity, while, after the events which had so recently
transpired, he did not deem it wise to seek her as a protector for the
young girl, as he had planned to do, for any length of time. He could
not feel safe about her while the Coolidges were near.
Finally, he raised the beautiful face which was resting against his
bosom, and, with a look of infinite tenderness, asked:
“Darling, it is settled, is it not, that you belong to me now?”
“Yes, Adrian, wholly.”
“And you will trust me fully, from this time forth?”
“I trust you fully,” and the little hands fluttered confidingly in his.
“Then, little one—my Brownie, will you come to me now, and let me make
you my own wife to-day—or at least as soon as that is possible? I feel
that I cannot allow you to be exposed to such suffering and insult for
another hour.”
He felt her heart leap against his own at his words, but she did not
reply.
“Darling,” he questioned, “am I putting your love and faith in me to too
severe a test?”
“To-day! so soon—oh, Adrian!” she whispered, and he could see wave on
wave of rich color surging up over her lovely face.
“Will you love me better by waiting a week—a month—or a year?” he asked,
gravely.
“No, oh, no!” she said, quickly.
“Can you bear for a moment to think of going back to the old life?”
She nestled closer to her lover, and he answered for her:
“No, dear, you cannot; and you have nowhere else on earth to go but to
the one who loves you best, Brownie,” he continued, with tender
authority, “you are mine—you have freely given yourself to me, and now I
am not willing that you should go back to face those wolves until I have
an indisputable right to go with you to demand proper respect for you,
and the restitution of your property, without the possibility of a
repetition of the insult and suffering to which you have heretofore been
subjected. I know all the objections you would raise,” he went on. “I
have thought them all over carefully. Lady Ruxley’s anxiety upon your
account; the misconstruction which will be put upon your mysterious
absence; the notoriety of a clandestine marriage, etc. But I think it
will do them all good to suffer a little upon your account, without it
is Lady Ruxley. And as to the other reasons, I do not care a straw for
them. In fact, our marriage will not be so very secret, since I
announced the fact of our engagement to the whole company assembled in
the drawing-room last evening, and told Sir Charles I should marry you
just as soon as possible.”
“Adrian! did you do that?” demanded Brownie, looking up astonished.
“Certainly I did. You do not suppose I could sit tamely by and listen to
all their remarks and surmises without making an effort to silence them,
do you?”
“But it was very brave and noble in you—few would have braved public
opinion like that,” and she lifted her red lips to give him a voluntary
kiss of gratitude.
“What had I to brave, my darling? I shall be proud to call you by that
dearest name in the world—wife; and since they all know now that I mean
to make you such, they cannot say that you have run away with me. We
will go to London to-day. I will get a special license, and you shall be
my wife to-morrow.”
“But—but——” she began, with a troubled face.
“No, dear,” he interrupted smiling, as he read her thought, “you shall
not go alone with me. My old nurse and her daughter shall go with us to
make everything proper. Nurse Clum will do anything in the world for me,
and keep any secret I intrust to her. Milly, her daughter, has long been
trying to get a situation as lady’s maid, and we will make one for her
at once, thus doing a charitable deed, as well as make ourselves happy.
In a week’s time, less if you desire, we will return to Vallingham Hall,
claim our property, and right that other wrong; while with me by your
side, you will be freed from the possibility of insult from any one.
Will you go with me, dear?”
“But you have relatives, I fear——”
“I am my own master, my darling, and no one can say me nay upon this
most vital point,” he replied, gravely, yet with decision.
“I will go with you, Adrian,” she said, simply.
“Bless you, my own!” he exclaimed, joyfully, then added, in tones of
regret: “It is not a fitting way to wed you, I know—not as I had fondly
hoped it would be, when I planned to lead you before my friends, and wed
you openly, as befits your station and mine; but,” he added lightly,
“when once we are settled we will make a great feast, and all shall do
honor to my wife. But we must not delay longer if we would escape
observation. But, first, I have something for you—I brought it last
evening.” He then took the ring from his pocket and put it upon her
finger, saying as he did so: “There, that seals our vows so far.”
He then took his cloak from his own shoulders, and, wrapping it closely
around her, led her by an unfrequented path to the spot where he had
left his carriage.
He drove directly to Nurse Clum’s, where, giving his betrothed into
Milly’s hands to be fed and cared for, he secured a private interview
with the former, told her his plans, and what he thought necessary of
the circumstances which seemed to make them advisable.
The faithful old nurse shook her head when he told her that he was
braving his grandfather’s displeasure; but she saw he was determined
upon the course he had marked out, and she could not say him nay.
Milly was delighted at the prospect of being lady’s maid to a bride, and
was charmed with the sweet lady who was to be Master Adrian’s wife.
They took as early a train as possible from West Malling, in order to
escape observation, and before noon they were all comfortably settled in
London, Brownie and her two companions having an elegant suite of rooms
at the Langham Hotel, in Portland Place, the most fashionable quarter of
the city, while Adrian returned to his own private apartments in St.
James Street.
Before sundown he had procured the special license, and believed himself
the happiest man alive, the only cloud being the disapproval of his
grandfather, and this, he trusted, time would overcome.
Meantime, Brownie, in company with Milly, visited a fashionable ladies’
furnishing house, and procured the most suitable outfit it was possible
to procure at so short a notice, and gave orders for several other
articles of apparel which she would need in the future.
The next morning a quiet little wedding party alighted at St. George’s
Church, Hanover Square, at eleven o’clock, and, leading his beautiful
betrothed proudly up the grand aisle, Adrian Dredmond stopped before the
gray-haired rector, and the twain were made one.
It was a very sweet but solemn face which looked up into Adrian’s when
he paused a moment in the vestibule and whispered, tenderly:
“God bless my own wife!”
But her eyes, as he pressed that first kiss upon her lips, were full of
happiness and trust, and he knew that he had it in his power to make her
life very bright. It was well for him, however, that he had not betrayed
to her the fact of his grandfather’s disapproval, nor what he was likely
to forfeit by his alliance with her, else all the pride of a royal race
would have risen within her, and that fair April day would not have seen
Brownie Douglas, Adrian Dredmond’s bride!