LADY UPTON
Dr. Stuart-Smith to Mr. Peter Thompkins, Geralton Castle,
Newhaven.
"DEAR LORD WILMERSLEY:
"Lady Wilmersley showed signs of returning consciousness at
half-past five yesterday afternoon. I was at once sent for, but
when I arrived she had fallen asleep. She woke again at nine
o'clock and this time asked where she was. She spoke
indistinctly and did not seem to comprehend what the nurse said
to her. When I reached the patient, I found her sitting up in
bed. Her pulse was irregular; her temperature, subnormal. I am
glad to be able to assure you that Lady Wilmersley is at
present perfectly rational. She is, however, suffering from
hysterical amnesia complicated by aphasia, but I trust this is
only a temporary affection. At first she hesitated over the
simplest words, but before I left she could talk with tolerable
fluency.
"I asked Lady Wilmersley whether she wished to see you. She has
not only forgotten that she has a husband but has no very clear
idea as to what a husband is. In fact, she appears to have
preserved no precise impression of anything. She did not even
remember her own name. When I told it to her, she said it
sounded familiar, only that she did not associate it with
herself. Of you personally she has no recollection, although I
described you as accurately as I could. However, as your name
is the only thing she even dimly recalls, I hope that when you
see her, you will be able to help her bridge the gulf which
separates her from the past.
"She seemed distressed at her condition, so I told her that she
had been ill and that it was not uncommon for convalescents to
suffer temporarily from loss of memory. When I left her, she
was perfectly calm.
"She slept well last night, and this morning she has no
difficulty in expressing herself, but I do not allow her to
talk much as she is still weak.
"I quite understand the delicacy of your position and
sympathise with you most deeply. Although I am anxious to try
what effect your presence will have on Lady Wilmersley, the
experiment can be safely postponed till to-morrow afternoon.
"I trust the inquest will clear up the mystery which surrounds
the late Lord Wilmersley's death.
"Believe me,
"Sincerely yours,
"A. STUART-SMITH."
Cyril stared at the letter aghast. If the girl herself had forgotten her
identity, how could he hope to find out the truth? He did not even dare
to instigate a secret inquiry--certainly not till the Geralton mystery
had been cleared up. And she believed herself to be his wife! It was too
awful!
Cyril passed a sleepless night and the next morning found him still
undecided as to what course to pursue. It was, therefore, a pale face
and a preoccupied mien that he presented to the inspection of the
county, which had assembled in force to attend his cousin's funeral.
Never in the memory of man had such an exciting event taken place and
the great hall in which the catafalque had been erected was thronged
with men of all ages and conditions.
In the state drawing-room Cyril stood and received the condolences and
faced the curiosity of the county magnates.
The ordeal was almost over, when the door was again thrown open and the
butler announced, "Lady Upton."
Leaning heavily on a gold-headed cane Lady Upton advanced majestically
into the room.
A sudden hush succeeded her entrance; every eye was riveted upon her.
She seemed, however, superbly indifferent to the curiosity she aroused,
and one felt, somehow, that she was not only indifferent but
contemptuous.
She was a tall woman, taller, although she stooped a little, than most
of the men present. Notwithstanding her great age, she gave the
impression of extraordinary vigour. Her face was long and narrow, with a
stern, hawk-like nose, a straight, uncompromising mouth, and a
protruding chin. Her scanty, white hair was drawn tightly back from her
high forehead; a deep furrow separated her bushy, grey eyebrows and gave
an added fierceness to her small, steel-coloured eyes. An antiquated
bonnet perched perilously on the back of her head; her dress was quite
obviously shabby; and yet no one could for a moment have mistaken her
for anything but a truly great lady.
Disregarding Cyril's outstretched hand, she deliberately raised her
lorgnette and looked at him for a moment in silence.
"Well! You are a Crichton at any rate," she said at last. Having given
vent to this ambiguous remark, she waved her glasses, as if to sweep
away the rest of the company, and continued: "I wish to speak to you
alone."
Her voice was deep and harsh and she made no effort to lower it.
"So this was Anita Wilmersley's grandmother. What an old tartar!"
thought Cyril.
"It is almost time for the funeral to start," he said aloud and he tried
to convey by his manner that he, at any rate, had no intention of
allowing her to ride rough-shod over him.
"I know," she snapped, "so hurry, please. These gentlemen will excuse
us."
"Certainly." "Of course." "We will wait in the hall." Cyril heard them
murmur and, such was the force of the old lady's personality, that
youths and grey beards jostled each other in their anxiety to get out of
the room as quickly as possible.
"Get me a chair," commanded Lady Upton. "No, not that one. I want to sit
down, not lie down."
With her stick she indicated a high, straight-backed chair, which had
been relegated to a corner.
Having seated herself, she took a pair of spectacles out of her reticule
and proceeded to wipe them in a most leisurely manner.
Cyril fidgeted impatiently.
Finally, her task completed to her own satisfaction, she adjusted her
glasses and crossed her hands over the top of her cane.
"No news of my granddaughter, I suppose," she demanded.
"None, I am sorry to say."
"Anita is a fool, but I am certain--absolutely certain, mind you--that
she did not kill that precious husband of hers, though I don't doubt he
richly deserved it."
"I am surprised that you of all people should speak of my cousin in that
tone," said Cyril and he looked at her meaningly.
"Of course, you believe what every one believes, that I forced Ann into
that marriage. Stuff and nonsense! I merely pointed out to her that she
could not do better than take him. She had not a penny to her name and
after my death would have been left totally unprovided for. I have only
my dower, as you know."
"But, how could you have allowed a girl whose mind was affected to
marry?"
"Fiddlesticks! You don't believe that nonsense, do you? Newspaper
twaddle, that is all that amounts to."
"I beg your pardon, Arthur himself gave out that her condition was such
that she was unable to see any one."
"Impossible! He wrote to me quite frequently and never hinted at such a
thing."
"Nevertheless I assure you that is the case."
"Then he is a greater blackguard than I took him to be----"
"But did you not know that he kept her practically a prisoner here?"
"Certainly not!"
"And she never complained to you of his treatment of her?"
"I once got a hysterical letter from her begging me to let her come back
to me, but as the only reason she gave for wishing to leave her husband
was that he was personally distasteful to her, I wrote back that as she
had made her bed, she must lie on it."
"And even after that appeal you never made an attempt to see Anita and
find out for yourself how Arthur was treating her?"
"I am not accustomed to being cross-questioned, Lord Wilmersley. I am
accountable to no one but my God for what I have done or failed to do. I
never liked Anita. She takes after her father, whom my daughter married
without my consent. When she was left an orphan, I took charge of her
and did my duty by her; but I never pretended that I was not glad when
she married and, as she did so of her own free-will, I cannot see that
her future life was any concern of mine."
Cyril could hardly restrain his indignation. This proud, hard, selfish
old woman had evidently never ceased to visit her resentment of her
daughter's marriage on the child of that marriage. He could easily
picture the loveless and miserable existence poor Anita must have led.
Was it surprising that she should have taken the first chance that was
offered her of escaping from her grandmother's thraldom? She had
probably been too ignorant to realise what sort of a man Arthur
Wilmersley really was and too innocent to know what she was pledging
herself to.
"I have come here to-day," continued Lady Upton, "because I considered
it seemly that my granddaughter's only relative should put in an
appearance at the funeral and also because I wanted you to tell me
exactly what grounds the police have for suspecting Anita."
Cyril related as succinctly as possible everything which had so far come
to light. He, however, carefully omitted to mention his meeting with the
girl on the train. As the latter could not be Anita Wilmersley, he felt
that he was not called upon to inform Lady Upton of this episode.
"Well!" exclaimed Lady Upton, when he had finished. "All I can say is,
that Anita is quite incapable of firing a pistol at any one, even if it
were thrust into her hand. You may not believe me, but that is because
you don't know her. I do. She hasn't the spirit of a mouse. Unless
Arthur had frightened her out of her wits, she would never have screwed
up courage to leave him, and it would be just like her to crawl away in
the night instead of walking out of the front door like a sensible
person. Bah! I have no patience with such a spineless creature! You men,
however, consider it an engaging feminine attribute for a woman to have
neither character nor sense!" Lady Upton snorted contemptuously and
glared at Cyril as if she held him personally responsible for the bad
taste of his sex.
As he made no answer to her tirade, she continued after a moment more
calmly.
"It seems to me highly improbable that Anita has been murdered; so I
want you to engage a decent private detective who will work only for us.
We must find her before the police do so. I take it for granted that you
will help me in this matter and that you are anxious--although,
naturally, not as anxious as I am--to prevent your cousin's widow from
being arrested."
"A woman who has been treated by her husband as Arthur seems to have
treated Anita, is entitled to every consideration that her husband's
family can offer her," replied Cyril. "I am already employing a
detective and if he finds Anita I will communicate with you at once."
"Good! Now remember that my granddaughter is perfectly sane; on the
other hand, I think it advisable to keep this fact a secret for the
present. Circumstantial evidence is so strongly against her that we may
have to resort to the plea of insanity to save her neck. That girl has
been a thorn in my flesh since the day she was born; but she shall not
be hanged, if I can help it," said Lady Upton, shutting her mouth with
an audible click.