LORD ETHALWOOD AND HIS ADVISERS――MR. CHICKNELL MAKES A PAINFUL
REVELATION.
The commotion created by the marriage of John Ashbrook and Patty
Jamblin had long since subsided and the bride and bridegroom returned
to the old farmhouse.
The usual amount of visits were paid, and the “happy pair” were
suffered to settle down into their own natural unobtrusive mode of
life.
Meanwhile Mr. Chicknell had been very busy in the Divorce Court for
the purpose of obtaining a decree nisi in the case of Gatliffe v.
Gatliffe. The reader will remember that we left Aveline and Lady
Marvlynn together discussing the all-important question in a previous
chapter.
It appeared that the earl’s grand-daughter, however, had a will of her
own. She would not consent to be made a mere puppet in the hands of
others, and after her interview with Lady Marvlynn she reconsidered
the matter, and boldly declared that the suit should not proceed.
The earl lost his temper――this was a very wrong thing for him to do,
considering his years and high social position――but he displayed his
anger to Lady Marvlynn, who was good enough to act as a convenient
buffer to break the shock which otherwise might have been attended
with much more serious consequences.
“She must have taken leave of her senses, the silly, wayward girl,” he
cried, in a fury. “My dear Lady Marvlynn, you must give her a good
talking to. Tell her I am greatly incensed.”
“I have told her so――I have talked to her, my lord,” returned her
ladyship.
“Well, and what said she?”
“Ah, she has said enough in all conscience. I think her pride is
wounded――her feelings are so easily worked upon, she is so very
impressionable, so sensitive.”
“All this I know perfectly well,” interrupted the earl, “have known it
for a long time past, but what of it? You surely don’t mean to tell
me, Lady Marvlynn, that my grand-daughter is so unjust, so
unreasonable, so undutiful, as to persist in offering an impediment to
what she knows and believes to be essential to my peace of mind?”
Lady Marvlynn shrugged her shoulders, but made no reply. It was a way
she had when in any great difficulty.
“I must request you to return me an answer, madam,” said the earl,
with hauteur.
“I have striven――I have done my best, the very best I could, I am
sure, my lord; you will acknowledge this?”
“Yes, I do.”
“But the poor child still clings to her husband.”
“Clings to her husband!” exclaimed the earl, in a perfect fury. “I say
she must be mad――positively bereft of her senses; but, enough of this,
if she persists in her obstinacy――well then, the tie between us is
broken. I cannot, and will not, submit to this indignity. With her my
word should be law.”
“And so it is, I hope.”
“We’ve a pretty sample of it now. Chicknell is in despair; he can’t
move a step further in the business――nay, he declares he won’t. Am I
to be bearded in my own house? Am I to be set at defiance? You must
see yourself, Lady Marvlynn, I have strong reason for complaining.”
“I don’t deny it, my lord. Don’t be so excited, and listen calmly to
me. Will you promise to do so?”
“Well, yes, of course I will,” said the earl, seating himself by the
side of the library table. “Proceed, madam, I am all attention.”
“If my dear pet were convinced that her worthless husband was living
in open adultery with a woman of doubtful repute――if she had
indisputable proofs of this, then I think she would give up all
thoughts of him for now and hereafter.”
“But haven’t you told her?”
“I have made her acquainted with as much as I thought it prudent to
do.”
“But she has witnessed quite enough with her own eyes. Did you not
tell me that this man was at the opera with the shameless hussy with
whom he has taken up?”
“Really, my lord, you must pardon me for a moment. The fact of a
gentleman and lady being seated side by side in the stalls of the
opera-house does not in itself incriminate them. The lady might be a
relative, a friend’s wife, a country cousin, or what not.”
“Ah, true――there is something in that.”
“Very well. As you admit my argument thus far, it is not in any way
surprising that Aveline should refuse to believe her husband to be as
guilty as we know him to be.”
“But hang it, madam, you can tell her, I suppose?”
“I can, of course; but I have not done so.”
“And why not, pray?”
“Ah, for many reasons. I love her as much as if she were my own child.
You may believe me or not, Lord Ethalwood, but I do.”
“I do believe it――but what of that?”
“This: No woman ever quite forgives another for running down her
husband or exposing his foibles, or his vices――if you like that term
better. That is why I have not chosen to be the accuser in this case.
You will acknowledge――albeit unwillingly, perhaps――that I am right.”
The earl made no reply.
He was silent for some time, and seemed to be much troubled.
Presently he offered his hand to his companion, who shook it warmly.
“I am answered, Lady Marvlynn,” said he. “You have taught me a lesson.
What you have said is but a proof of your discretion――your
perspicuity――your intelligence. You would have been overstepping the
line which prudence and good sense draws for all of us. Questions like
these are at all times difficult to deal with, and in my haste and
zeal I had overlooked this fact, and I have to apologise to you for
pressing you upon the point. I see now, my grand-daughter, who, to say
the truth, has much of the Ethalwood in her, will not yield without
good and sufficient cause.”
“And I admire her for it,” cried Lady Marvlynn, with some warmth.
“You _are_ her friend,” said the earl, musingly. “A wiser and more
truthful one no woman ever had.”
“I understand her better than you do.”
“Without a doubt. The Ethalwoods never understood one another. This
has been the bane of their happiness.”
He sighed and leant his head on one hand. Then he repeated, in a
solemn, melancholy tone――
“The bane of their happiness.”
Lady Marvlynn did not venture upon any remarks. Before her sat an
honourable gentleman, across whose features a fleeting expression
passed.
It would be difficult to define this; it appeared to be a combination
of emotions, in which sorrow, regret, and disappointment were
combined.
“I will bethink me,” he presently said, “as to what is best to be done
in this business. As for my reasoning with her that it is not to be
thought of; but doubtless I shall find some other way.”
“Let either Mr. Chicknell or Mr. Wrench have an interview with her,
and convey to her the unwelcome intelligence. It will come better from
them than either of us two,” said Lady Marvlynn. “It matters not what
they say as business men.”
“You are indeed a wise counsellor,” cried the earl, tapping her on the
shoulder. “Nothing could be better; the suggestion is an excellent
one, which I will act upon immediately. Chicknell will be here in an
hour or so, and I can arrange with him without further delay.”
Lady Marvlynn, feeling that the subject of their conference was at an
end, rose, made a curtsey, and left the apartment.
When the lawyer arrived, which he did in the course of two or three
hours after the foregoing conversation, he was made acquainted with
the nature of the commission imposed upon him, to which he at once
acceded.
The earl went out to pay a visit to a neighbour. Mr. Chicknell sought
the Lady Aveline, who consented to receive him in her own apartment.
After much bowing and scraping, the astute attorney consented to bring
himself to an anchorage on the soft velvet seat of a carved oak chair.
After a preliminary cough, he began as follows――“This little business
which the earl, your grandfather, is so anxious to get settled, is at
present in _status quo_, the reason being the disinclination on the
part of your ladyship to act in concert with his legal advisers, and I
have, therefore, my dear madam, taken upon myself the not very
pleasant task of seeing you on the subject.”
“I am very glad to see you at all times, Mr. Chicknell,” said Aveline.
“As a friend of our house, you are welcome.”
“Ah, thank you!” returned the lawyer, not very well liking her manner.
“I felt assured that I should be. We cannot get on without your
co-operation――indeed we cannot. Ahem! it’s no use attempting to
disguise that.”
He laughed as if he had said something remarkably pleasant and witty.
Aveline only nodded.
“It’s like driving a bent nail in an oak plank,” murmured Chicknell;
“but no matter;” he then went on, addressing himself to the lady. “You
see――ahem!――I have felt it a duty incumbent on me to learn your wishes
with regard to the pending suit from your own lips. Am I right when I
say that it was first instituted with your full consent?”
“Certainly not. I never did give my consent.”
“Dear me, that’s most unfortunate; but as we have proceeded thus far,
I presume you won’t offer any opposition. You certainly ought not to
do so.”
“Indeed! I claim to be the best judge in this matter, and do not care
to be made a mere puppet in the hands of others. Pray, why ought I to
give my consent?”
“Well, as your ladyship has put the question so plainly, I am bound to
answer it. In the first place, I do not think you would be justified
in opposing Earl Ethalwood’s expressed wishes, and in the next”――he
paused――――
“And in the next,” cried Aveline.
“You are quite justified in getting rid of a man who has brought such
discredit on you and yours.”
Aveline rose from her seat, her eyes flashing with indignation, and
her whole manner was indicative of the most violent emotion.
“And pray, Mr. Chicknell,” said she, “who has deputed you to make such
a statement? In what way has my husband brought discredit on me and
mine? I have yet to learn that he has done aught to disgrace either
himself or me.”
“You must pardon me, madam,” said the lawyer, in no way moved by the
anger of his companion. “It is, to say the truth, no pleasant task I
have undertaken; and allow me to say that if it is repugnant to you to
hear the truth I will remain silent, and never again allude to a
subject which is evidently most painful to you. We professional
gentlemen have, at times, very unpleasant revelations to make, but I
would not――nay, nothing could induce me to press a question which,
possibly, you have no desire to hear.”
“I do not quite understand you, sir. But you have my full permission
to proceed. Pray go on.”
“My dear young lady,” said Chicknell, in oleaginous accents, “you must
learn the truth. Your husband is living in open adultery with a woman
of more than doubtful repute. That fact is established. We have
indubitable proof of it.”
Aveline turned pale, trembled slightly, and sank into a chair.
She made, however, no reply.
“You have heard what I have said?” said the lawyer, in continuation.
“Indubitable proofs! If you doubt this I will bring an officer who
will convince you of the fact.”
Still no reply.
“Mr. Gatliffe is, at the present time, living with a lady of the name
of Laura Stanbridge.”
“He must be strangely altered,” said Aveline――“so altered that I find
it difficult to believe that he should have so far forgotten himself.”
“We are dealing with facts,” returned the lawyer; “facts which have
come to our knowledge by chance or accident. Nevertheless, such facts
are quite incontrovertible. We have the clearest and most unanswerable
evidence of your husband’s guilty intercourse with the woman
Stanbridge, and I presume my word will suffice for the purpose,
without entering into all the painful details.”
Aveline leaned forward, placed her elbow on the table, and, burying
her face in her hands, she burst into a passionate flood of tears. Her
hysterical sobs touched the heart of the lawyer, who placed his hand
kindly on one of her shoulders, and standing over her, said in a
sympathetic tone of voice:
“My dear Lady Aveline, I cannot express to you the sorrow I feel at
seeing you thus borne down. Believe me, nothing but the imperative
necessity of making the revelation has induced me to be thus
outspoken. I had no other alternative left, and have been constrained
to enter thus fully into this business. Do, pray, try and bear up, and
meet the case with becoming fortitude.”
“You have said enough, Mr. Chicknell. You have convinced me. I feel
hurt. My pride is wounded, but I shall not offer any opposition to the
proceedings you have taken at the instigation of the earl, my
grandfather. Release me as speedily as possible from this odious
bondage. I desire to be disunited from a man who is so utterly
unworthy of my consideration.”
“Do not think that I have sought you for the purpose of maligning the
man who is at the present moment your lawful husband. He is not worthy
of such a distinction. I say this most emphatically――he is not worthy
of even a passing thought.”
“Enough, sir,” interrupted the unhappy wife. “It is hardly worth while
pouring out your vials of wrath upon him. It will suffice for our
purpose that you bring the suit to as speedy a termination as
possible.”
“It shall be done, madam, as speedily as possible. Do not let this
unfortunate business cause you any anxiety. Be of good cheer, and look
hopefully to the future. Remember you are surrounded by friends who
are deeply concerned in your happiness and future welfare. You will, I
am sure, do me the justice to believe that I have your interest at
heart, and that at all times you may rely upon, not only my advice,
but upon my warmest and most disinterested friendship.”
“I do not doubt it, Mr. Chicknell,” said Aveline, drying her eyes.
“And so you know now your course of action. Accept my best thanks.”
They shook hands, and the lawyer took his departure, very well
satisfied with the result of the interview.
In the course of a few weeks the divorce was obtained without
opposition on the part of Gatliffe, and Lord Ethalwood felicitated
himself upon the fulfilment of the crowning wish of his life.