THE IMPENDING STORM
For a week longer calls and invitations poured in upon the newly wedded
couple, and it seemed almost impossible to tear themselves away from
London.
But at the expiration of that time Adrian thought they ought not to
delay their visit to Vallingham Hall any longer, lest the marriage of
Sir Charles should take place, and they be off upon the Continent before
they could secure Brownie’s jewels.
Besides, he had it in his power to save his friend from a lifetime of
misery, and he felt that he would be doing him a grievous wrong did he
not warn him of the precipice upon which he was standing.
Neither did he think it would be right to allow him to go away without
acquainting him of the fact that he had a brother living, for, of
course, that circumstance alone would make a great difference in his
future prospects, and he ought to know of it before the settlements were
completed.
Accordingly, on Monday preceding the wedding, which was to occur upon
Wednesday, the 11th of June, they went down to West Malling, intending
after their errand was accomplished to make Lady Ruxley their promised
visit, and then repair to Dunforth Castle for a while.
Lord Dunforth had stipulated that he was to be one of the party whenever
they went to Vallingham Hall, consequently they stopped and took him up
on their way.
“You will need me,” he had said, “to help prove your property; and since
I purchased some of the jewels myself, and have seen them all, I can
identify them in case they should attempt to contest your right.
Besides, we may as well finish the whole business at once, and I’ll call
Helen to account for her part in the drama of my life.”
They arrived at Vallingham Hall about four o’clock, and Lady Randal came
to the drawing-room, all smiles, to receive them.
She had recently heard who Brownie was, and of the sudden change in her
prospects, so she adopted the _rôle_ of ignoring all the “scandalous
circumstances” of their marriage which had so shocked her, and was
exceedingly gracious to them.
It would be very unwise, she reasoned, to have any falling out with the
future Lord and Lady Dunforth.
“How kind of you,” she exclaimed, “to come to us; we ought to have
called upon you when we were in London, but we were so hurried with
preparations for the wedding that we had no time. And really we were
tired out with our trip. You received our cards for the ceremony on
Wednesday, I suppose?” she concluded.
“Yes, we received them,” Adrian replied, then added, “but we called
to-day to see Mrs. Coolidge and Miss Isabel upon a little matter of
business.”
“I presume they will be delighted to see you. The _trousseau_ has just
arrived, and we were examining it just as you came. It is perfectly
elegant, I assure you, Mrs. Dredmond, and I presume Isabel will take you
up to see it; I only hope we shall have a fine day, and that everything
will pass off well. How very romantic your marriage was, my dear,” she
ran on, heedless of Lord Dunforth’s threatening looks; “we were very
much distressed about your sudden disappearance, and I must say, Adrian,
you played your part that evening exceedingly well,” and she laughed
slyly.
“Played my part well! I do not understand you, madam,” Adrian returned,
astonished at the accusation.
“You do not understand, indeed! when you knew all the time where she
was, and took her away the very next day to marry her. Really, it is
quite an unparalleled case.”
“Lady Randal,” the young man said, sternly, as he saw Brownie’s delicate
face flush painfully at these insinuations, “at any other time I should
deem your words an unpardonable insult, for I knew no more than yourself
where Miss Douglas was at that time; but if you will have the kindness
to notify your guests that we wish to see them, that matter, as well as
some others, will soon be satisfactorily explained.”
Lady Randal colored with displeasure at his words, but she rang the
bell, and sent the servant, who appeared, to tell Isabel and her mother
that there were callers for them. At Adrian’s request she did not send
their names, as he feared they might refuse to see them.
The Coolidges soon presented themselves in the drawing-room, and Sir
Charles came with them.
He greeted the guests somewhat coolly, for he could not forget the
slight his betrothed had received that evening in London at Manchester
House.
Isabel and her mother felt a sudden shock run through all their frame
when they saw who were present, but the latter at once resolved to carry
a high hand and fight the battle out bravely to the end.
Lord Dunforth and Adrian arose and bowed coldly as they entered, while
Brownie inclined her head the merest trifle in the world; but Isabel,
ignoring her manner, began gushingly, thinking to take their castle by
storm:
“Really, Mrs. Dredmond, you have given us all a terrible fright, but I
am rejoiced to find that nothing worse than being married has happened
to you. I little thought I should have to tender my congratulations
first,” she concluded, turning with a simper to Adrian.
“Yes,” put in her mother, before any one else could speak, “I suppose we
shall be obliged to pardon you for causing us all so much terror, since
your strange disappearance has terminated so happily.”
Brownie could endure their insolence no longer.
“We will waive that topic, if you please,” she said, icily, “until we
have settled a little matter of business. Mrs. Coolidge, I desire to
relieve you of a certain casket, with its contents, which belongs to me,
and which you have in your possession.”
Mrs. Coolidge was equal to the situation. Turning to her daughter, she
said:
“Oh, yes; Isabel, won’t you go and get it? Of course, she needs it now.
If we had only known your address,” she added, graciously, turning to
Brownie, “we might have forwarded them to you.”
Isabel arose to do her mother’s bidding, and she whispered to her as she
did so:
“You must manage some way to get Sir Charles out of the room, and keep
him out.”
Isabel turned to go, and got as far as the door, when she looked back at
Adrian and his wife, and said, with a slight blush:
“As long as this is a business call to mamma, may I beg you to excuse
Sir Charles and me? I assure you we are very busy at present.”
They bowed coldly, and then turning to her lover, she said:
“Sir Charles, may I speak with you privately?”
He arose and followed her from the room with a perplexed brow. He did
not exactly like being called from guests in this way.
“What does all this mean?” he demanded, when they were alone in the
hall.
“It means that when Miss Douglas went away from us she left a box
containing some valuables with papa for safe keeping,” was the glib
reply.
She had been expecting some such question, and had the answer all ready.
“But I thought she was dismissed.”
“So she was. She did not behave with propriety, and mamma would not keep
her longer. Papa did not like it very well, for he was bewitched with
her pretty face, and they were good friends, so she left the box with
him until she should be settled somewhere else. You know what happened
after that, and we have never had an opportunity to return her property,
which papa left in our keeping, until now.”
“What did she do that was so very improper while she was with you?” he
asked. “I have never heard.”
“Really, Charles,” Isabel replied, flushing and pouting in a grieved
way, “I do not like to enter into particulars quite so minutely; but if
you must know, why, you must, I suppose. One day mamma and I were out on
a shopping expedition, when we were obliged to return much earlier than
we expected to. On entering the library, we found Miss Douglas lying in
Wilbur’s arms, with apparently as much composure as if she were
reclining upon a couch.”
“Is that so!” exclaimed Sir Charles, much shocked. “She does not seem
like such a person at all.”
“Oh, no; and when mamma talked with her about it, she put on that
haughty, queenly air which you noticed the other evening in London, and
again this morning, and would listen to nothing.”
“But did your father uphold her in this?” Sir Charles asked her,
gravely.
“Oh, no, indeed; but she had so bewitched Wilbur that he took all the
blame upon himself, and told papa something so that he excused it, and
she made him think she was the injured one, after all.”
Isabel was almost frightened at herself as she coined these base
falsehoods; but she felt that the truth must be concealed from him for
the next two days at all hazards. If she could only bridge them over
until the fatal vows were spoken, and she was once mistress of
Vallingham Hall, all would be well.
“I never would have believed her to be guilty of such indiscretions if
you had not told me,” Sir Charles said, not yet wholly convinced, but
greatly disturbed by the account.
“No, you would not, nor any one else, she is so demure and ladylike,”
Isabel hastened to say, with every appearance of fairness. “But she
never met Mr. Dredmond, to my knowledge, more than three or four times
in her life; and, to my mind, it does not look just right for her to run
away to be married to him upon so short an acquaintance.”
“That is so. It does not seem just the thing, I must confess. And I am
surprised at Adrian, too. I thought him a man of more depth,” Sir
Charles assented, gravely. Then, with a fond glance into the face of his
betrothed, he asked: “But what did you wish of me? Can I do anything for
you?”
“Yes, indeed; but you nearly made me forget, with all your catechising,”
she laughed, and then went on: “I find that my dress is altogether too
loose, and I must have a seamstress to fix it immediately; then I find I
neglected to get a pair of pearl-colored gloves to match my traveling
suit. Would you mind riding over to the village to attend to it?”
She did not need either, but she must get rid of him.
“No, indeed; but will it not do as well a couple of hours hence? Our
callers in yonder might think me ungracious to go away while they are
here.”
Isabel’s heart sank; she must get him away at once if possible; she knew
that Adrian Dredmond would allow no part of their meanness to be
concealed, and there would probably be a hot battle before they were
through. But she thought if she could only get her lover away from it
all, maybe they could come to some terms with Lady Randal to conceal the
affair from him; for she knew she was as anxious as any one for the
marriage to come off. But it would not do to let him mistrust how
anxious she was, so she replied, hesitatingly:
“It might do if it were not for the dress—that must be attended to at
once; and then if you do not succeed in matching my dress in gloves, I
shall have to send up to town for them, and you know we have no time to
spare.”
“Would it not do to send a piece of the dress and let Brown do the
errand? I really do not like to seem uncourteous, notwithstanding their
treatment of us the other evening,” he replied.
Isabel flushed angrily at the remembrance.
“No, indeed, I should not dare trust Brown; and then you forget you have
not given your instructions concerning the bell, which was to be made at
the village florists, as there were not japonicas enough in the
greenhouse here,” Isabel said, catching at this device for getting him
away. “Besides,” she added, “this is only a business call, you know.”
He began to notice her anxiety in spite of her forced composure, and
with a searching look into her face he replied, as he turned away:
“True, I had almost forgotten about that. I will attend to your
commissions at once.”
She told him to wait one moment while she procured a piece of silk to
match the gloves by; and he stood there with bent head and contracted
brow until she returned with it, and then, without a word, he passed out
toward the stables.
The guilty girl then sped back again to her room as if on wings to bring
the casket, anxious to have everything settled, and those wretched
marplots out of the way before his return.
As she re-entered the drawing-room she saw at a glance that her mother
was very much disconcerted about something, and she heard Adrian say,
sternly:
“Then, madam, you still assert that you were very much surprised, as
well as distressed, at Miss Douglas’ disappearance?”
“Certainly; how could it be otherwise?” she demanded, haughtily, but
very pale.
“Were you a man,” he returned, with biting scorn in his tones, “I should
not thus privately bandy words with you—you should answer publicly for
what you have done; and it is time your complicity in this matter be
exposed.”
“I beg your pardon,” she interrupted, “but Isabel has returned with the
box for which you came, and as we are extremely busy, you will kindly
excuse us from a longer interview.”
She arose as if to leave the room, but Adrian advanced a step or two,
and said, firmly:
“Not so, madam; you have done my wife altogether too much injury, and
covered up your iniquity too long to admit of my keeping silence now.
You have sneered and tried my patience beyond endurance to-day with your
insinuations concerning a ‘clandestine marriage,’ and it is but just and
right that she should be exonerated in the presence of Lady Randal from
all blame for what you, by your cruelty, drove her to.”
“Good heavens! Adrian explain yourself. I am all in a maze! What do you
mean by all this talk about complicity, iniquity, and cruelty?” demanded
Lady Randal, looking from one to another in perplexity.
Adrian, in the fewest words possible, told the story of the jewels, and
her ladyship knew before he had finished that every word he uttered was
truth.
She, too, began to grow pale and nervous, as she realized that his wife
was the niece of the woman whom she had so deeply injured, and
conscience stung her sharply as these memories of the past were revived.
“Mrs. Dredmond,” said Lady Dunforth, who had scarcely spoken yet, “will
you please open that casket, and allow me to look at its contents?”
Brownie lifted the lid, for the lock had been forced after she had taken
the key, and it was only fastened by the spring, and revealed the
glittering treasures it contained.
Lady Randal uttered a cry, and gasped out:
“I might have known it in the first place. I thought I had seen them
before, especially those corals.”
“Ah! you recognize the corals, then? Possibly you remember the first and
only time this lady’s aunt wore them, years and years ago?” said his
lordship, with bitter irony, while his own face blanched and great drops
of perspiration stood upon his forehead. “Those jewels,” he went on,
striving for composure, “were given to Miss Mehetabel Douglas, the
grandaunt of Mrs. Dredmond, more than forty years ago. I myself
presented those corals, also that tiara, with one or two other pieces.
The others were given her in honor of her approaching marriage with
myself.”
Mrs. Coolidge nearly screamed at this announcement. Yes, she saw it all
now; the mystery was all explained—the titled names upon the dancing
card, the faded flowers, and everything which had so puzzled her.
But Brownie, thinking a little more explanation was necessary, lifted
the velvet bed, and taking up that dancing list, passed it to him, and
asked him to unlock the secret of it, since it had greatly troubled Mrs.
Coolidge and her daughter.
He took it; but his hand shook as with the ague, as he read the names
upon it.
“This,” he said, turning first to Mrs. Coolidge, then to Lady Randal,
with stern brow, “is the order of dances as they occurred upon a certain
occasion at the house of your aunt, Lady Ruxley, more than forty years
ago. Do you remember, Helen?”
“Yes, I remember,” her lips articulated, while her eyes seemed fastened,
as if by fascination, upon him.
He referred to the card again, and though his face was ghastly from the
pain he was suffering, he went on:
“Do you remember a certain Count de Lussan who was present that
evening?”
She bowed her head. She would not have spoken at that moment to save her
life, so great was the fear in her heart, while all the events of that
fatal night rose up before her with a vividness which turned her sick
and faint.
“Do you know how it happened that a man of his character was present
among respectable people?”
“Yes; he came at my brother’s invitation, my lord,” she said, lifting
her head, and speaking defiantly.
“True; but at your invitation, and to serve a vile purpose of your own.
It was through your maneuvering that he was introduced to Miss Douglas,
and it was your taunts which spurred her on to disgrace herself and
dance with him, in spite of her better judgment and my persuasions. I
mistrusted something of it when it was too late, and you, by that last
vile act, which I have only recently discovered, had separated us
forever.”
“And pray what terrible deed have you discovered at this late day?” her
ladyship demanded, sarcastically, although she was colorless as a piece
of marble, and her lips twitched nervously.
“This! Do you remember ever seeing it before?”
He took from his pocket a folded paper, yellow and creased with age, and
advancing, gave it into her hands.
For an instant she sat like one stunned, but she was livid even to her
lips, and a trembling seized her which shook her like a reed.
“Where did you get this?” she whispered, hoarsely, after a moment.
“Accident threw it into my hands—how, it does not matter now; but it
reveals all your vile plot to separate Meta and me, in which you
succeeded only too well.”
“But how do you know that I had anything to do with this note? I do not
see that you have proved what you assert at all,” she said, bridling.
“She gave that note to a servant to bring to me, you met her on the
stairs, said you would deliver it, and then came and told me that Meta
refused to see me then or at any other time; have I proved my point
now?” he asked, sternly.
She saw all was discovered, and made no reply, and he went on:
“Mrs. Dredmond, as you know already, is my Meta’s grandniece. At her
aunt’s death she found herself very unexpectedly reduced to the
necessity of earning her own living. She found a place as governess in
Mrs. Coolidge’s family, and came abroad with them. One day when she was
out, she,” pointing to Isabel, who sat pale and cowering, “entered her
room, where she discovered this casket of jewels. She took them to her
mother, and they both came to the conclusion that a poor governess had
no business with such valuables—that she must have stolen them! They
accused her of it upon her return, and refused to give up the jewels
until she could prove them to be hers.”
“Why didn’t she demand them, and take the law to enforce her rights
then?” demanded Lady Randal, sharply. “It does not sound like a very
probable story to me. How do you know she is Meta Douglas’ niece? I
believe you’ve been taken in yourself.”
She was determined not to believe anything against her guests if she
could help it. Matters had gone so far now, that she could not have the
match between Sir Charles and Isabel broken off; the scandal of it would
be unbearable, to say nothing of the loss of Isabel’s fortune, which she
believed to be enormous. They had been expecting Mr. Coolidge for a
week, and thought surely he would be there to-day, when the settlements
were to be arranged, and there must be no trouble now.
“We have indisputable proof, Lady Randal; and as for Miss Douglas taking
the law to enforce her rights, she fully intended to do so when she left
Mrs. Coolidge’s house; but you remember the accident which occurred, and
which threw her into your family; and then before she was fully
recovered Lady Ruxley brought her down here.
“The day when she so strangely disappeared she met Miss Coolidge in the
upper corridor, as she was going out for her walk. She again demanded
her property, and was again refused. Upon returning to the hall, in
passing Miss Isabel’s room, she saw the casket upon the table, she
entered and took it, and was about leaving the room when Mrs. Coolidge
confronted her, demanding that she put down the casket. She refused,
when the woman locked the door, putting the key in her pocket, saying
she could not leave the place until she relinquished it.”
“Really, Lady Randal,” interrupted Mrs. Coolidge, rising, apparently in
great wrath, “I cannot remain to endure further insult!”
“Please be seated,” she returned, “we will hear this whole story now. I
must confess it does not sound very plausible to me, but we will hear
their side, and then your own.”
She little thought how the “whole story” would affect her!
“Go on,” she added, to Lord Dunforth; but Adrian now took up the story.
“Miss Douglas utterly refused to give up her property again, and the two
had a stormy scene, until Mrs. Coolidge finally professed to be willing
to temporize with her, and pretending to take her into her own room,
enticed her into a secret chamber which she had discovered——”
“What! the treasure chamber!” ejaculated Lady Randal, excitedly, and
losing all her color again.
“I do not know what the place is called,” Adrian replied, “but she
locked her within it, and kept her there without food or light, or even
a chair to sit upon until midnight, when she and her daughter sought her
again, and, by stratagem and force combined, succeeded in getting
possession of the jewels again. Then they brought her food and bedding,
telling her she was to remain there until after the wedding, since they
could not run the risk of her making them trouble and interfering with
their prospects.”
“’Tis false!” shrieked Isabel, nearly beside herself.
“Be quiet, my daughter,” said Mrs. Coolidge, soothingly. Then turning to
Lady Randal, she asked: “Can you believe such a tissue of falsehood? No
one has seen the girl from the time she parted with my children in the
park that day until after her marriage. It is a preposterous story, and
only fabricated to save the parties most interested from the scandal
usually attending a clandestine marriage. Besides, what is all this talk
about a secret chamber?” she concluded, scornfully.
Lady Randal looked at her in a dazed kind of a way, while a terrible
fear was tugging at her heart.
“But how could she know there is a secret chamber unless she had seen
it?—and it leads from Isabel’s room. Go on, Adrian, I must hear all
now,” she said, in a low, concentrated tone.
He gave her a look of compassion, and resumed:
“Miss Douglas arranged her bed, striving to make the best of her
situation, and, being very weary, soon fell into a sound slumber. She
was not conscious of how long she had slept, but she was suddenly
awakened by a feeling that some one was in her room, and upon opening
her eyes saw the strangest being she ever beheld kneeling by her side.”
“Oh, heavens!” breathed Lady Randal, sinking back in her chair, and
covering her face with her trembling hands.