ANOTHER REVELATION
The following notice appeared a few days subsequent in the London _Daily
Times_:
“The nearest of kin to Sir Edgar Douglas, who was son of Sir William
Douglas, son of Sir Frederick Douglas, formerly of Winship Towers,
Winchester, will learn something to his or her advantage by applying to
Capel & Armand, attorneys-at-law, No. 47 Gray’s Inn.”
“What was your father’s name, Brownie?” Adrian asked, lifting his eyes
from the paper he had been reading.
“William Douglas.”
“And what was his father’s name?”
“James. But why do you ask? Shall I bring forth the genealogical tree?”
she asked, mischievously.
“Yes, bring it,” he said, gravely, and with something of surprise in her
manner she obeyed.
“Now see if you can find the name of Sir Frederick Douglas three
generations back,” he said, when he had spread it out.
“Yes, here it is.”
“Now who was his heir?”
“Sir William E. Douglas.”
“Does the table give the name of his son?”
“No, the record of that family stops there.”
“I thought likely; now what connection is, or was Sir William E. Douglas
to your branch of the family?”
Brownie referred again to the chart.
“Sir William, James, my grandfather, and auntie, were all the children
of Sir Frederick Douglas; and I never knew until his moment that auntie
had more than one brother,” Brownie said, in surprise.
“That is strange; and he was the heir to the baronetcy, too,” returned
Adrian; then he asked: “What is the date of his death?”
“1840. It is put here in auntie’s own handwriting.”
“That is thirty-six years ago. Then Sir William Douglas was your
father’s uncle, which makes him your grand-uncle, and just the same
relation to you that Miss Mehetabel Douglas was.”
“Well, what does all this mean, Adrian.”
“It means that Sir Edgar Douglas was Sir William Douglas’ heir, and he
being deceased, also his son and only child Eddie, there does not seem
to be any immediate heir to the property, which probably is entailed, or
this advertisement would not have appeared,” Adrian replied, as he
handed it to his wife to read.
She read it, and then turned to the genealogical table again with a
flushed face. After a few minutes she looked up with a puzzled
expression, and said:
“I have an idea of what you are thinking, Adrian, but I cannot quite
make it out.”
He took pencil and paper, and after a few moments placed a diagram
before her.
“According to that you are the only living relative and heir of Sir
Edgar Douglas,” he said.
“Do you suppose it can be true?” she asked, gravely.
“We will apply to Capel & Armand and see, dear.”
Accordingly they ordered a carriage and drove to Gray’s Inn, taking Miss
Mehetabel’s precious family tree with them.
Brownie used to have her patience severely tried in the days when Miss
Mehetabel would descant upon her illustrious birth and ancestry, and
often wished this same family tree at the bottom of the ocean, little
thinking of the future good it was to bring her.
They were most kindly received by Messrs. Capel & Armand, and after
listening to Adrian’s explanation, and thoroughly examining the record,
they fully agreed with him that Brownie was the person whom they were
seeking.
They congratulated her upon her good fortune, telling her that there was
a fine estate at Winchester, and also a handsome town house, which would
now become hers, and that in her own right she possessed an independent
fortune.
“How strange!” Brownie exclaimed, tearfully, when they were once more
alone, and talking the matter over again, “that the little darling
should be of my own kin.”
“It is, indeed, and I never thought of the coincidence of names when Sir
Edgar and his wife came,” replied Adrian.
“I am so glad that he fell into our hands, instead of strangers; yet I
grieve for the poor little fellow and his father, who was just in the
prime of life. It is sad that my gain must come from poor Lady Douglas’
misfortune.”
“It is sad, dearest; and I was satisfied with my wife just as she was;
but, I suppose, that this will go to prove to Mrs. Grundy that I have
not made a _mésalliance_ after all,” Adrian returned, somewhat
scornfully.
“It never rains but it pours,” is the homely old adage, and the next day
brought a lengthy epistle from Mr. Conrad, of Philadelphia, stating that
the concern in which he had invested so much of Miss Mehetabel’s
property had formed a new stock company, which had assumed all the
obligations of the old one, which they would cancel at their earliest
convenience.
It might be some time, he wrote, before they could make over the whole
amount to her, but meantime, they would continue the interest on the
whole, and make a yearly deposit in whatever bank she saw fit to
designate, unless she should prefer to let her shares remain as they had
been.
And, the honest lawyer added, things were beginning to look brighter to
him, also, and he hoped to be able soon to do something for her on his
own account.
One day, not long after, it was necessary for Brownie to go to Capel &
Armand’s to sign some papers regarding her coming into possession of the
estate at Winchester.
Adrian accompanied her as far as the door, where he was obliged to leave
her to transact some business of his own.
She mounted the stairs to the office, swung open the door, entered, and
found herself face to face with Lord Dunforth!
He did not recognize her, for he had only seen her once while she was at
the castle, and he could not associate this elegantly clad, blooming
woman, with the pale, black-robed figure, who had been so attentive to
Lady Ruxley’s wants.
At all events, he thought her wondrously beautiful now, and wondered who
she could be.
Brownie knew him instantly, and the rich color flew to her cheek, but
she did not lose an atom of her self-possession.
Her manner was perfect, her language, as she conversed with the lawyers,
was choice and fluent, while the little hand with which she signed the
documents they placed before her, was white, and soft, and tapering—“a
sure sign of a lady,” his lordship, who was watching from behind his
paper, said to himself.
“A remarkably lovely woman that,” Mr. Capel said to him, after Brownie’s
departure.
“She is, indeed. Who is she?”
“She is heiress to the property of Sir Edgar Douglas, who died so
suddenly a couple of weeks since.”
“Ah, yes! I heard that he left no heir. That was a sad circumstance.”
“It was, indeed, for his rent roll at Winchester is no mean one, and his
town house will compare favorably with the best.”
“So I have been told; but how does this young lady happen to inherit
them? Whose child is she?”
“Sir Edgar’s father, Sir William Douglas, and her grandfather, James
Douglas, were brothers, each of whom had but one child, a son, and they
in turn had only one child, one a son, the other a daughter. Sir Edgar’s
son, as you are aware, died only a few days previous to his father, and
that leaves this lady the sole surviving relative. Her own parents died,
one just before her birth, the other just after, leaving her to the care
of a maiden aunt, Miss Mehetabel Douglas, who left this country many
years ago, and settled in Philadelphia, United States.”
“Sir! What!” demanded his lordship, to whom this news was like a
thunderbolt, which opened the old wound afresh.
“Yes, her own name was Mehetabel Douglas until her marriage; she was
named for her aunt. My lord, you are ill!” said the lawyer, startled to
see him grow so white, while his hand shook so that the paper he held
rattled.
“No, no; go on. Then you say they are all dead, excepting this young
lady?” he cried, trying with a mighty effort to steady his nerves.
“Yes, Miss Mehetabel, the elder, died less than a year ago, the young
woman tells me. They were supposed to be very wealthy at her death, but
a series of misfortunes deprived them of everything, and this young lady
obtained a situation as governess in a family that was coming abroad.
Strange, isn’t it, how things work around, and that she should come here
to walk right into this fortune?”
It was passing strange, his lordship acknowledged; and this beautiful
young girl was the niece of his lost love, and her adopted child,
doubtless.
He wished he had known of this before she left; he would have requested
an introduction, and by that means he would have learned all about his
lost one’s life. As it was, he resolved to seek her out at his earliest
convenience, and learn more of her and her antecedents.
Then there suddenly arose a thought which troubled him.
If this young lady was Miss Mehetabel’s only living relative, how came
Miss Isabel Coolidge by those jewels? Could it be that the poor child
had been reduced to the necessity of selling them? It did not yet occur
to him that she was the poor, discarded governess of whom Adrian had
told him.
But no, he could not believe that a Douglas would be guilty of parting
with precious heirlooms for filthy lucre no matter how destitute she
might become.
“You say the young lady is lately married,” he said, resuming his
conversation with the lawyer, and determined to learn all he could.
“Yes, I think it is not more than two or three weeks since the event
occurred.”
Lord Dunforth did start now, remembering that that was about the time of
Adrian’s marriage. Still the truth did not enter his mind, as his next
words proved.
“You say she was a governess previous. Whom did she marry? I trust she
has not made a _mésalliance_; the Douglases are remarkably good stock. I
used to know the family intimately,” he concluded, with a troubled brow.
“You are right; they were always a fine family. I do not think that the
young lady has brought any disgrace upon it, however, for her husband
appears to be a very fine man. His name is Dredmond—Adrian Dredmond.”
His lordship’s face turned ghastly pale at this, and he looked up at the
loquacious lawyer in a dazed sort of way.
“You are surely ill, my lord!” Mr. Capel said, alarmed at his
appearance, and pouring out a glass of wine, he brought it to him,
thinking it strange, too, that the story should affect him so.
“Thank you; it is merely a sudden dizziness, it will pass soon,” he
said, as he drank the wine; then, after he had regained his scattered
senses somewhat, he arose, bade the lawyer good-morning, and departed.
His first and only love was dead, and his heart told him that she had
been true to him to the last, from the fact of her never having married.
But how could he meet her in the future and answer for all the insult
and abuse he had heaped upon the child of her love.
He wondered if she had recognized him as she came into Capel & Armand’s
office.
“If she did, the little witch displayed wonderful dignity and
self-possession. I don’t blame the boy for falling in love with her,” he
muttered.
Then he remembered how earnestly Adrian had begged him to listen while
he explained, and he would not; how he had returned unopened his letter,
which doubtless contained all the information and more than he had
gained to-day; and he sought his elegant home in Upper Grosvenor Street,
in a remarkably humble frame of mind for so proud a man.