ON LADY LIVINGSTONE'S ARM.
The stately rooms were thrown open for the reception of the guests,
and the evening was already waning. Wax-lights innumerable shed their
rays on the gilded decorations, the exquisite paintings, the gorgeous
dresses of the ladies; the enlivening strains of the band invited to
the dance, and rare exotics shed forth a sweet perfume. Admission to
the residence of Sir Francis Netherleigh was coveted by the gay world.
"There's a tear!" almost screamed a pretty-looking girl. By some
mishap in the dancing-room her partner had contrived to put his foot
upon her thin white dress, and the bottom of the skirt was half torn
away.
"Quite impossible than I can finish the quadrille," quoth she, half in
amusement, half provoked at the misfortune. "You must find another
partner whilst I go and have this repaired."
It was Frances Chenevix. By some neglect, no maid was at the moment in
attendance upstairs; and Frances, in her impatience, ran down to the
housekeeper's parlour. As Adela's sister, and frequently there with
Mary Lynn, she was quite at home in the house. She had gathered the
damaged dress up on her arm, but her white silk petticoat fell in rich
folds around her.
"Just look what an object that stupid----" And there stopped the young
lady. For, instead of the housekeeper or maid, whom she expected to
meet, no one was in the room but a gentleman; a tall, handsome man.
She looked thunderstruck: and then slowly advanced and stared at him,
as if unable to believe her own eyes.
"Gerard! Well, I should just as soon have expected to meet the dead
here."
"How are you, Lady Frances?" he said, holding out his hand with
hesitation.
"_Lady_ Frances! I am much obliged to you for your formality. Lady
Frances returns her thanks to Mr. Hope for his polite inquiries,"
continued she, honouring him with a swimming curtsy.
He caught her hand. "Forgive me, Fanny, but our positions have
altered. At least, mine has: and how did I know that you were not
altered with it?"
"You are an ungrateful--raven," cried she, "to croak like that. After
getting me to write to you no end of letters, with all the news about
every one, and beginning 'My dear Gerard,' and ending 'Your
affectionate Fanny,' and being as good to you as a sister, you meet me
with 'My Lady Frances!' Now, don't squeeze my hand to atoms. What on
earth have you come to England for?"
"I could not stop over there," he returned, with emotion; "I was
fretting away my heart-strings. So I accepted an offer that was made
to me, and came back. Guess in what way, Frances; and what to do."
"How should I know? To call me 'Lady Frances,' perhaps."
"As a City clerk; earning my bread. That's what I am now. Very
consistent, is it not, for one in my position to address familiarly
Lady Frances Chenevix?"
"You never spoke a grain of sense in your life, Gerard," she exclaimed
peevishly. "What do you mean?"
"Sir Francis Netherleigh has taken me into his house in Leadenhall
Street."
"Sir Francis Netherleigh!" she echoed, in surprise. "What, with
that--that----"
"That crime hanging over me. Speak up, Frances."
"No; I was going to say that doubt," returned the outspoken girl. "I
don't believe you were guilty: you know that, Gerard."
"I have been there some little time now, Frances; and I came up
tonight from the City to bring a note to him from Mr. Howard----"
"Rather late, is it not, to be in the City?"
"It is foreign post night, and we are very busy. A telegram came, of
some importance, I believe, and Mr. Howard has enclosed it to Sir
Francis."
"But you owned to a mountain of debt in England, Gerard; you were
afraid of arrest."
"I have managed a portion of that, thanks to Sir Francis, and the rest
they are going to let me square up by instalments."
"And pray, if you have been back some time, why have you not come to
see us?"
"I don't care to encounter old acquaintances, Frances; still less to
intrude voluntarily upon them. They might not like it, you see."
"I see that you have taken up very ridiculous notions; that you are
curiously altered."
"Adversity alters most people. That bracelet has never been heard of?"
"Oh, that's gone for good. No doubt melted down in a caldron, as the
colonel calls it, and the diamonds reset. It remains a mystery of the
past, and is never expected to be solved."
"And they still suspect me! What is the matter with your dress?"
"Matter enough," answered she, letting it down and turning round for
his inspection. "I came here to get it repaired. That great booby,
John Cust, did it for me."
"Fanny, how is Alice Dalrymple?"
"You have cause to ask after her! She is dying."
"Dying!" repeated Gerard, in hushed, shocked tones.
"I do not mean actually dying tonight, or going to die tomorrow; but
that she is dying by slow degrees there is no doubt. It may be weeks
yet, or months; perhaps years: I cannot tell."
"Where is she?"
"Still at Lady Sarah's. Just now she is making a short stay with her
mother at Netherleigh. She went home also in the spring for a month,
and when she came back Sarah was so shocked at the change in her that
she called in medical advice, and we have been trying to nurse her up.
It is all of no use: she grows thinner and weaker."
"You are still at Lady Sarah's also?"
"Oh, to be sure; I am a fixture there," laughed Frances.
"Are the
Hopes here tonight?"
"Yes: or will be. They went out somewhere to dinner, and expected to
be late."
"Does my uncle ever speak of me less resentfully?"
"Not he. I think his storming over it has only made his suspicion
stronger. Not a week passes but he begins again about that detestable
bracelet. He is unalterably persuaded that you took it, and no one
must dare to put in a word in your defence."
"And does your sister honour me with the same belief?" demanded the
young man, bitterly.
"Sarah is silent on the point to me: I think she scarcely knows what
to believe. You see I tell you all freely, Gerard."
"Fanny," he said, dropping his voice, "how is it that I saw Lady Adela
here tonight?"
"Lady Adela!" retorted Frances, who knew nothing of the escapade.
"That you never did."
"But I assure you----"
"Hush, for goodness' sake. Here comes Sir Francis."
"Why, Fanny," he exclaimed to his sister-in-law as he entered, "you
here!"
"Yes: look at the sight they have made of me," replied she, shaking
down her dress for his benefit, as she had previously done for
Gerard's. "I am waiting for some of the damsels to mend it for me: I
suppose Mr. Hope's presence has scared them sway. Won't mamma be in a
rage when she sees it! it is new on tonight."
She made her escape. Sir Francis's business with Gerard was soon over,
when he walked with him into the hall. Who should be standing there
but Colonel Hope. He started back when he saw Gerard.
"Can I believe my senses?" stuttered he. "Sir Francis Netherleigh, is
he one of your guests?"
"He is here on business," was the reply. "Pass on, colonel."
"No, sir, I will not pass on," cried the enraged colonel, who had not
rightly caught the word business. "Or if I do pass on, it will only be
to warn your guests to take care of their jewellery. So, sir," he
added, turning to his nephew, "you can come back, can you, when the
proceeds of your theft are spent! You have been starring it in Calais,
I hear. How long did the bracelet last you to live upon?"
"Sir," answered Gerard, with a pale face, "it has been starving rather
than starring. I asserted my innocence at the time, Colonel Hope, and
I repeat it now."
"Innocence!" ironically repeated the colonel, turning to all sides of
the hall, as if he took delight in parading the details of the
unfortunate past. "The trinkets were spread out on a table in Lady
Sarah's own house: you came stealthily into it--after having been
forbidden it for another fault--went stealthily into the room, and the
next minute the diamond bracelet was missing. It was owing to my
confounded folly in listening to a parcel of women that I did not
bring you to trial at the time; I have only once regretted not doing
it, and that has been ever since. A little wholesome correction at the
Penitentiary might have made an honest man of you. Good-night, Sir
Francis; if you encourage him in your house, you don't have me in it."
Now another gentleman had entered and heard this: some servants also
heard it. Colonel Hope, who firmly believed in his nephew's guilt,
turned off, peppery and indignant; his wife had gone upstairs; and
Gerard, giving vent to sundry unnephew-like expletives, strode after
him. The colonel made a dash into a street cab, and Gerard walked
towards the City.
The evening went on. Lady Frances Chenevix, her dress all right again,
at least to appearance, was waiting to regain breath, after a whirling
waltz. Next to her stood a lady who had also been whirling. Frances
did not know her.
"You are quite exhausted: we kept it up too long," said the gentleman
in attendance on the stranger. "Sit down. What can I get you?"
"My fan: there it is. Thank you. Nothing else."
"What an old creature to dance herself down!" thought Frances. "She's
forty, if she's a day."
The lady opened her fan, and, whilst using it, the diamonds of her
rich bracelet gleamed right in the eyes of Frances Chenevix. Frances
looked at it, and started: she strained her eyes and looked at it
again: she bent nearer to it, and became agitated with emotion. If her
recollection did not play her false, that was the lost bracelet.
She saw Grace at a distance, and glided up to her. "Who is that lady?"
she asked, pointing to the stranger.
"I don't know who she is," replied Grace. "I was standing by mamma
when she was introduced, but did not catch the name. She came late,
with the Cadogans."
"The idea of people being in the house that you don't know!"
indignantly spoke Frances, who was working herself into a fever.
"Where's Sarah? Do you know that?"
"In the card-room, at the whist-table."
Lady Sarah, however, had left it, for Frances only turned from Grace
to encounter her. "I do believe your lost bracelet is in the room,"
she whispered, in agitation. "I think I have seen it."
"Impossible!" responded Lady Sarah Hope.
"It looks exactly the same; gold links interspersed with diamonds: and
the clasp is the same; three stars. A tall, ugly woman has it on, her
black hair strained off her face." For, it should be remarked _en
passant_, that such was not the fashion then.
"So very trying for plain people!" remarked Lady Sarah, carelessly.
"Where is she?"
"There: she is standing up now. Let us get close to her. Her dress is
that beautiful maize colour, with old lace."
Lady Sarah Hope drew near, and obtained a sight of the bracelet. The
colour flew into her face.
"It is mine, Fanny," she whispered.
But the lady, at that moment, took the gentleman's arm, and moved
away. Lady Sarah followed her, with the view of obtaining another
look. Fanny went to Sir Francis, and told him. He showed himself hard
of belief.
"You cannot be sure at this distance of time, Fanny. And, besides,
more bracelets than one may have been made of that pattern."
"I am so certain, that I feel as if I could swear to the bracelet,"
eagerly replied Lady Frances.
"Hush, hush, Fanny."
"I recollect it perfectly: the bracelet struck me the moment I saw it.
How singular that I should have been talking to Gerard Hope about it
tonight!"
Sir Francis smiled. "Imagination is very deceptive, Frances. Your
having spoken to Mr. Hope of the bracelet brought it into your
thoughts."
"But it could not have brought it to my eyes," returned the girl.
"Stuff and nonsense about imagination, Francis Netherleigh! I am
positive it is the bracelet. Here comes Sarah."
"I suppose Frances has been telling you," observed Lady Sarah to her
brother-in-law. "I feel convinced it is my own bracelet."
"But--as I have just remarked to Frances--other bracelets may have
been made precisely similar to yours," he urged.
"If it is mine, the
initials 'S. H.' are scratched on the back of the middle star. I did
it one day with a penknife."
"You never mentioned that fact before."
"No. I was determined to give no clue. I was always afraid of the
affair being traced home to Gerard, and it would have reflected so
much disgrace on my husband's name."
"Did you speak to the lady?--did you ask where she got the bracelet?"
interrupted Frances.
"How could I ask her?" retorted Lady Sarah. "I do not know her."
"I will," cried Frances, in a resolute tone.
"My dear Fanny!" remonstrated Sir Francis.
"I vow I will," she persisted. But they did not believe her.
Frances kept her word. She found the strange lady in the
refreshment-room. Locating herself by her side, she entered upon a few
trifling remarks, which were civilly received. Suddenly she dashed at
once to her subject.
"What a beautiful bracelet!"
"I think it is," was the stranger's reply, holding out her arm for its
inspection, without any reservation.
"One does not often see such a bracelet as this," pursued Frances.
"Where did you buy it?--if you don't mind my asking."
"Garrards are my jewellers," she replied.
This very nearly did for Frances: for it was at Garrards' that the
colonel originally purchased it: and it seemed to give a colouring to
Sir Francis Netherleigh's view of more bracelets having been made of
the same pattern. But she was too anxious and determined to stand upon
ceremony--for Gerard's sake: and he was dearer to her than the world
suspected.
"We--one of my family--lost a bracelet exactly like this some time
back. When I saw it on your arm, I thought it was the same. I hoped it
was."
The lady froze directly, and laid down her arm, making no reply.
"Are you--pardon me, there are painful interests involved--are you
sure you purchased this at Garrards'?"
"I have said that Messrs. Garrard are my jewellers," replied the
stranger, in cold, repelling tones; and the words sounded evasive to
Frances. "More I cannot say: neither am I aware by what law of
courtesy you thus question me, nor whom you may be."
The young lady drew herself up, proudly secure in her name and rank.
"I am Lady Frances Chenevix. And I must beg you to pardon me."
But the stranger only bowed in silence, and turned to the
refreshment-table. Frances went to find the Cadogans, and to question
them.
She was a Lady Livingstone, they told her, wife of Sir Jasper
Livingstone. The husband had made a mint of money at something or
other, and had been knighted; and now they were launching out into
high society.
The nose of Lady Frances went into the air. A City knight and his
wife: that was it, was it! How could Mrs. Cadogan have taken up with
_them?_
The Honourable Mrs. Cadogan did not choose to say: beyond the
assertion that they were extremely worthy, good sort of people. She
could have said that her spendthrift of a husband had borrowed money
from Sir Jasper Livingstone; and to prevent being bothered for it, and
keep them in good humour, they introduced the Livingstones where they
could.
It seemed that nothing more could be done. Frances Chenevix went home
with her sister Sarah in great excitement, ready to go through fire
and water, if that would have set her doubts at rest one way or the
other.
They found Colonel Hope in excitement on another score, and Lady Sarah
learnt what it was that had caused her husband not to make his
appearance in the rooms, which she had thought quite unaccountable.
The colonel treated them to a little abuse of Gerard, prophesying that
the young man would come to be hanged--which he would deserve, if for
impudence alone--and wondering what on earth could possess Francis
Netherleigh to make that Leadenhall house of his a refuge for the
ill-doing destitute.
Before Frances went to bed, she wrote a full account of what had
happened to Alice Dalrymple, at Netherleigh, saying she was _quite
sure_ it was the lost bracelet, and also telling her of Gerard's
return.
It may, perhaps, as well be mentioned, before we have quite done with
the evening, that the sudden disappearance of Adela caused some
commotion in the minds of those two individuals, Grace Chenevix and
Sir Sandy MacIvor, who were alone cognizant of her presence in the
house. When Grace saw Sir Francis Netherleigh standing in his place as
host, she turned sharply round to motion back Adela, following, as she
believed, behind. But she did not see her: and at the moment Sir
Francis advanced, took Grace's hand, and began telling her about Mrs.
Dalrymple.
What had become of Adela? Grace's face went hot and cold, and as soon
as she got away from Sir Francis, she looked about for her. Not
finding her, unable to inquire after her of any of the guests, as it
would have betrayed Adela's unlawful presence in the house, fearing
she knew not what, Grace grew so troubled that she had no resource but
to seek her mother and whisper the news. Lady Acorn, whilst giving a
few hard words to Adela and to Grace also, hit upon the truth--that
the sight of her husband had terrified her away, and she had in all
probability gone back home. "Hilson will know; he is in the hall,"
she said to Grace: and Grace went to Hilson, and found her mother's
view the correct one.
But, although it had ended without exposure, Lady Acorn could not
forgive it. She spent the next day telling Adela what she thought of
her, and that she must be getting into a fit state for a lunatic
asylum.
The letter of Frances Chenevix so troubled Alice Dalrymple that she
showed it to Selina, confessing at the same time what a terrible
nightmare the loss of the bracelet had been to her. Selina told her
she was "silly;" that but for her weak health she would surely never
have suspected either herself or Gerard of taking it. "Go back to
London without delay," was her emphatic advice to Alice, "and sift it,
if you can, to the bottom." And, as Mrs. Dalrymple was certainly out
of danger, Alice went up at once.
She found Frances Chenevix had lost none of her eager excitement,
whilst Lady Sarah had nearly determined not to move in the matter: the
bracelet seen on Lady Livingstone's arm must have been one of the same
pattern sold to that lady by Messrs. Garrard. To the colonel nothing
had been said. Frances, however, would not let it drop.
The following morning, saying she wanted to do an errand or two,
Frances got possession of Lady Sarah's carriage, and down she went to
the Haymarket to see the Messrs. Garrard. Alice--more fragile than
ever, her once lovely countenance so faded now that she looked to be
dying, as Frances had said to Gerard Hope--waited her return in a
pitiable state of anxiety. Frances came in, all excitement.
"Alice, it _is_ the bracelet. I am more certain of it than ever.
Garrards' people say they have sold many articles of jewellery to Lady
Livingstone, but not a diamond bracelet. Moreover, they say that they
never had, of that precise pattern, but the one bracelet Colonel Hope
bought."
"What is to be done?" exclaimed Alice.
"I know: I shall go to those Livingstones; Garrards' people gave me
their address. Gerard shall not remain under this cloud if I can help
him out of it. Sir Francis won't act in it; he laughs at me: Sarah
won't act; and we dare not tell the colonel. He is so obstinate and
wrongheaded, he would be for arresting Gerard, pending the
investigation."
"Frances----"
"Now, don't preach, Alice. When I will a thing, I _will_. I am like my
lady mother for that. Sarah says she scratched her initials on the
gold inside the bracelet, and I shall demand to see it: if these
Livingstones refuse, I'll put the detectives on the scent. I will; as
sure as my name is Frances Chenevix."
"And if the investigation should bring the guilt home to--to--Gerard?"
whispered Alice, in hollow tones.
"And if it should bring it home to you! and if it should bring it home
to me!" spoke the exasperated Frances. "For shame, Alice! it cannot
bring it home to Gerard, for he was never guilty."
Alice sighed; she saw there was no help for it, for Lady Frances was
resolute. "I have a deeper stake in this than you," she said, after a
pause of consideration: "let me go to the Livingstones. Yes, Frances,
you must not refuse me; I have a very, very urgent motive for wishing
it."
"You, you weak mite of a thing! you would faint before you were
half-way through the interview," cried Frances, in tones between jest
and vexation.
Alice persisted: and Frances at length conceded the point, though with
much grumbling. The carriage was still at the door, for Frances had
desired that it should wait, and Alice hastily dressed herself and
went down to it, without speaking to Lady Sarah. The footman was
closing the door upon her, when out flew Frances.
"Alice, I have made up my mind to go with you; I cannot keep my
patience until you are back again. I can sit in the carriage whilst
you go in, you know. Lady Livingstone will be two feet higher from
today--that the world should have been gladdened with a spectacle of
Lady Frances Chenevix waiting humbly at her door."
They drove off. Frances talked incessantly on the road, but Alice was
silent: she was deliberating what she should say, and was nerving
herself to the task. Lady Livingstone was at home; and Alice, sending
in her card, was conducted to her presence, leaving Lady Frances in
the carriage.
Frances had described her to be as thin as a whipping-post, with a red
nose: and Alice found Lady Livingstone answer to it very well. Sir
Jasper, who was also present, was much older than his wife, and short
and stout; a good-natured looking man, with a wig on the top of his
head.
Alice, refined and sensitive, scarcely knew how she opened her
subject, but she was met in a different manner from what she had
expected. The knight and his wife were really worthy people, as Mrs.
Cadogan had said: but the latter had a mania for getting into "high
life and high-lived company:" a feat she would never be able
thoroughly to accomplish. They listened to Alice's tale with courtesy,
and at length with interest.
"You will readily conceive the nightmare this has been to me," panted
Alice, for her emotion was great. "The bracelet was under my charge,
and it disappeared in this extraordinary way. All the trouble it has
been productive of to me I am not at liberty to tell you, but it has
certainly helped to shorten my life."
"You look very ill," observed Lady Livingstone, with sympathy.
"I am worse than I look. I am going into the grave rapidly. Others
less sensitive, or with stronger health, might have battled
successfully with the distress and annoyance; I could not. I shall die
in greater peace if this unhappy affair can be cleared. Should it
prove to be the same bracelet, we may be able to trace out how it was
lost."
Lady Livingstone left the room and returned with the diamond bracelet.
She held it out to Miss Dalrymple, and the colour rushed into Alice's
poor wan face at the gleam of the diamonds: for she believed she
recognized them.
"But, stay," she said, drawing back her hand as she was about to touch
it: "do not give it me just yet. If it be the one we lost, the letters
'S. H.' are scratched irregularly on the back of the middle star.
Perhaps you will first look if they are there, Lady Livingstone."
Lady Livingstone turned the bracelet, glanced at the spot indicated,
and then silently handed it to Sir Jasper. The latter smiled.
"Sure enough here's something on the gold--I can't see distinctly
without my glasses. What is it, Lady Livingstone?"
"The letters 'S. H.,' as Miss Dalrymple described: I cannot deny it."
"Deny it! no, my lady, why should we deny it? If we are in possession
of another's bracelet, lost by fraud, and if the discovery will set
this young lady's mind at ease, I don't think either you or I shall be
the one to deny it. Examine it for yourself, ma'am," added he, giving
it to Alice.
She turned it about, she put it on her arm, her eyes lighting with the
eagerness of conviction. "It is certainly the same bracelet," she
affirmed: "I could be sure of it, I think, without proof; but Lady
Sarah's initials are there, scratched irregularly, just as she
describes to have scratched them."
"It is not beyond the range of possibility that initials may have been
scratched on this bracelet, without its being the same," observed Lady
Livingstone.
"I think it must be the same," mused Sir Jasper. "It looks
suspicious."
"Lady Frances Chenevix understood you to say you bought this of
Messrs. Garrard," resumed Alice.
Lady Livingstone felt rather foolish. "What I said was, that Messrs.
Garrard were my jewellers. The fact is, I do not know exactly where
this was bought: but I did not consider myself called upon to proclaim
that fact to a young lady who was a stranger to me, and in answer to
questions which I thought verged on impertinence."
"Her anxiety, scarcely less than my own, may have rendered her
abrupt," replied Alice, by way of apology for Frances. "Our hope is
not so much to regain the bracelet, as to penetrate the mystery of its
disappearance. Can you not let me know where you did buy it?"
"I can," interposed Sir Jasper: "there's no disgrace in having bought
it where I did. I got it at a pawnbroker's."
Alice's heart beat violently. A pawnbroker's! Was her haunting fear
growing into a dread reality?
"I was one day at the East-end of London, walking fast, when I saw a
topaz-and-amethyst cross in a pawnbroker's window," said Sir Jasper.
"The thought struck me that it would be a pretty ornament for my wife,
and I went in to look at it. In talking about jewellery with the
master, he reached out this diamond bracelet, and told me _that_ would
be a present worth making. Now, I knew my lady's head had been running
on a diamond bracelet; and I was tempted to ask what was the lowest
figure he would put it at. He said it was the most valuable article of
the sort he had had for a long while, the diamonds of the first water,
worth four hundred guineas of anybody's money; but that, being
second-hand, he could part with it for two hundred and fifty. And I
bought it. There's where I got the bracelet, ma'am."
"That was just the money Colonel Hope gave for it new at Garrards',"
said Alice. "Two hundred and fifty guineas."
Sir Jasper stared at her: and then broke forth with a comical attempt
at rage, for he was one of the best-tempered men in the world.
"The old wretch of a cheat! Sold it to me at second-hand price, as he
called it, for the identical sum it cost new! Why, he ought to be
prosecuted for usury."
"It is just what I tell you, Sir Jasper," grumbled his lady. "You will
go to these low second-hand dealers, who always cheat where they can,
instead of to a regular jeweller; and nine times out of ten you get
taken in."
"But your having bought it of this pawnbroker does not bring me any
nearer to knowing how he procured it," observed Alice.
"I shall go to him this very day and ascertain," returned Sir Jasper.
"Tradespeople may not sell stolen bracelets with impunity. You shall
hear from me as soon as possible," he added to Alice, as he escorted
her out to the carriage.
But Sir Jasper Livingstone found it easier to say a thing than to do
it. The pawnbroker protested his ignorance and innocence. If the
bracelet was a stolen bracelet, he knew nothing of that. He had bought
it, he said, in the regular course of business, at one of the
pawnbrokers' periodical sales: and of this he convinced Sir Jasper.
Frances Chenevix was in despair. She made a confidante of Lady Sarah,
and got her to put the affair once more into the hands of the
detectives; the same officer who had charge of it before, Mr. Pullet,
taking it up again. He had something to work upon now.