Two days later the papers were full of the news of the reappearance of
Marcus Blaydon.
Jack Wingfield had been very impatient of the delay. Every morning that
he opened the newspapers, and drew them blank, he swore at the man. What
the mischief was he waiting for? Was he such an idiot as to fancy that
he, Jack Wingfield, was likely to give a more promising reply to his
demands than he had already given him? Did he hope to gain anything by
merely menacing him in regard to the publication of his story?
Priscilla was clever enough to see that the man had hoped much from the
visit which her father had paid her, and perhaps even more from that of
the Vicar of Athalsdean. She felt sure that she saw what was the sort of
game he meant to play when he returned to England. He had meant to try
the familiar game of blackmail in the first instance, being idiot enough
to think that Priscilla would jump at the chance of being allowed to
pay over some thousands of pounds for his promise to clear out of
the country and tell no human being that he was her husband. Failing,
however, to convince her or Wingfield that their position would be to
any extent improved by the acceptance of his terms, he had gone to
her father, knowing that he had a sheet-anchor in the enormous
respectability of Farmer Wadhurst. He did not want Priscilla--if he
had wanted her he would have hurried to her the moment he found himself
free, if only to tell her that he meant to start life afresh, in order
that he might win her love and redeem the past--no; he did not want
her; but he was well aware of the fact that her father was a moderately
wealthy man, and that Priscilla was his only child. These were the
possibilities that appealed to him. Perhaps the father might show his
readiness to pay a respectable price for the preservation untarnished
of the respectability of the family; but failing that, he might still be
able to make a good thing out of the connection, for his father-in-law
would stand by him, could he be made to see that it would be for the
good of the family to stand by him. But her father’s mission and the
mission of the Reverend Osney Possnett having failed, the man had no
further reason for delay in making public the romantic incidents in
which he had taken a prominent part.
These represented the surmises of Priscilla and Jack, and they were
not erroneous in substance, though in some particulars not absolutely
accurate, as they afterwards found out.
What Jack confessed his inability to account for was the flight of the
man across the Atlantic, when he had such good prospects opening
before him as the husband of Priscilla, the daughter of that prosperous
agriculturist, Mr. Wadhurst. To be sure, it was just on this point that
he had allowed his imagination some play when he had that conversation
with Marcus Blaydon. He had suggested that the fellow had gone across
the Atlantic in order to be with some woman whom he had known
before; but Jack was scarcely inclined to give the man credit for a
disinterested attachment such as this, when he had such good prospects
at home as the lawful husband of a beautiful young woman, whose society
(post-nuptial) he had had but a very restricted opportunity of enjoying.
That was a matter which, he saw, required some explanation; but he felt
sure that the explanation would come in good time; and it would be his,
Jack Wingfield’s, aim to expedite its arrival; and he knew that the
success of the nullity suit depended on his finding out all about that
unaccountable attachment which had forced a mercenary trickster into an
unaccountable position.
But here were the newspapers at last containing the information that
Marcus Blaydon, who had been placed in the early part of the summer
in the forefront of the rank of maritime heroes--by far the most
picturesque of all heroic phalanxes--had returned to England, none the
less a hero because he had by a miracle (described in detail) escaped
the consequences of his heroism; and engaged--also without prejudice to
the claims made on his behalf when his name was last before the eyes
of the public--in the discharge of a duty so painful as to cause him to
feel that it would have been better if he had perished among the rocks
where he had lain insensible for many hours after doing his best to
rescue his messmates from a watery grave, than to have survived that
terrible night.
That is what the announcements in some of the newspapers came to. But
they had the tone of the preliminary announcements of a matter which is
supposed to contain certain elements of interest to the public later
on, if the public will only have the kindness to keep an eye upon the
papers. Some of the phrases--including that important one about the
“watery grave,” appeared in all the accounts of the matter; but in a
few cases the news did not occupy a greater space than an ordinary
paragraph, while in others the attention of casual readers was drawn
to it by the adventitious aid of some startling headlines--two of
these introducing the name of Enoch Arden. Not once, however, in any
newspaper, was the name of Mr. Wingfield introduced.
“They read like a rangefinder,” remarked Mr. Wingfield, when he had
gone through every line of the paragraphs. “That is what the fellow is
doing--he is trying to find out our position.”
But there was no need for the invention of such a theory to account for
the guarded omissions in the paragraphs, the truth being simply that the
professional correspondent of the Press agency who had handled the item
understood his business. He had no wish to drag the name of a member of
Parliament into a piece of news offered to him by a man whose trial
for embezzlement he had attended professionally the previous year.
In addition, he perceived how it was possible for him to nurse the
information, if it stood the test of enquiry, until it should yield to
him a small fortune. He understood his business, and his business was to
understand the palate of newspaper readers.
And that was how it came that Mr. Wingfield was waited on by a
well-dressed and very polite literary gentleman that same day, and
invited to make any statement which he would have no objection to read
in print the next morning on the subject of the return of the heroic
Marcus Blaydon.
“The man told you, I suppose, that his trying mission to England was to
claim the lady from whom he was parted at the church door after their
marriage, and whom I married a short time ago,” said Mr. Wingfield, M.P.
“That is the substance of the statement which he made to me yesterday,
sir,” said his visitor. “I hesitated to transmit it to my agency at
London, not wishing, on the authority of a man of his antecedents, even
though endorsed by Mr. Wadhurst, to publish a single line that might
possibly--possibly----”
“Be made the subject of a libel action--is that what is on your mind?”
said Mr. Wingfield.
“Of course--but in the back of my mind, Mr. Wingfield,” replied
the other. “What I was really anxious to avoid was saying anything
calculated to give pain to----”
“I appreciate your consideration,” said Jack pleasantly; “but I know
that omelettes cannot be made without breaking eggs.”
“Yes, sir; but I should like to avoid a bad egg.”
“Then you would do well to avoid Marcus Blaydon.”
The gentleman laughed, and shook his head.
“A bad egg, beyond doubt, Mr. Wingfield; but good enough for some
culinary operations,” said the skilful paragraphist. “It is true, then,
that he was really married to the lady whom you subsequently--” Jack saw
the word “espoused” trembling on his lips, and he hastened to save him
from the remorse which he would be certain to feel when he should awaken
at nights, and remember that he had employed that word solely to save
his repeating the word “married.”
“I believe that to be the truth,” he said at once. “The man came here
and claimed the lady as his wife, but she declined to admit his claim,
pending the result of her appeal to the proper quarter for the annulment
of her marriage with him.”
The gentleman whipped out his note-book in a moment, and made with
the rapidity of lightning some hundreds of outline drawings of gulls
flying, and miniature arches, and many-toed crabs, and trophies of
antlers, interspersed with dots and monkeys’ tails, variously twisted,
and Imperial moustaches similarly treated.
“Mrs.--Wingfield--” the gentleman had infinite tact and taste--“Mrs.
Wingfield is making such an application? Messrs. Liscomb and Liscomb, I
suppose?”
“Messrs. Liscomb and Liscomb.”
“With Sir Edward retained, of course?”
“With Sir Edward. You seem pretty well acquainted with the procedure.”
The gentleman smiled.
“I have been connected with the Press for fifteen years, sir,” he said.
“May I ask one more question, Mr. Wingfield? Is it the intention of
the--of Mrs. Wingfield to remain at the Manor House pending the result
of the litigation?”
“You may take it from me that she will run no risks,” said Jack. “She
will not change her present domicile for any other, so long as Marcus
Blaydon remains out of gaol.”
The visitor made some more lightning drawings in outline, and then
became thoughtful.
“May I venture to express the hope that Mrs. Wingfield is in good
health, sir?” he said--“in good health, and confident of the result
of her application for a pronouncement of nullity?” he added, after a
hesitating moment.
“She is in excellent health and spirits, thank you,” replied Jack. “Of
course, in matters of law one must always expect delay, and in such a
point as that upon which we await a decision, it is natural that one
should become impatient. However, we know that there is nothing for it
but to sit tight for a month or two.”
“I’m extremely obliged to you for this interview, Mr. Wingfield,” said
the gentleman, turning over a new leaf of his note-book, and looking
up with his pencil ready. “Now, if there is anything whatever that you
would like to be made public in this connection----”
“I don’t know that I have anything in my mind beyond what I have just
told you,” said Mr. Wingfield. “Of course, you can easily understand
that we would greatly prefer that nothing should appear in the
newspapers about us or our lawsuits until they are actually before the
courts, but we know that that would be to expect too much.”
“If I am not taking too great a liberty, sir, I would say that,
unpleasant though it may appear from some standpoints to have the
particulars published, you will find that in the long run it will be
advantageous to you. Public sympathy is better to have with one than
against one.”
“I suppose it is second only to having the law on one’s side.”
“Public sympathy is superior to the law, Mr. Wingfield; and they are
beginning to find that out on the other side of the Atlantic. This case
is certain to attract a large amount of attention. You see, we are just
entering on the month of August. Upon my word, I shouldn’t wonder if it
became the Topic of the Autumn--I shouldn’t indeed, Mr. Wingfield. Well,
I’m extremely obliged to you, sir; and I won’t take up any more of your
time. Good morning.”
“Good morning. Any time that you want any information that you think I
can give you, don’t hesitate to come to me.”
“You are very kind, sir. I should be sorry to intrude.”
So the representative of the Press went his ways, congratulating himself
on having, after a Diogenes-search lasting, for several years, come upon
a sensible man and a straightforward man, devoid of frills. Most men who
had attained, by the exertions of their forefathers, to the position of
landed proprietors, he had found to be not easy to approach on matters
which they called private matters, but which newspaper men called public
matters. Mr. Wingfield, however, so far from resenting an interview on a
subject which required to be handled with extreme delicacy, had actually
given him encouragement to repeat his visit.
He was determined that Mr. Wingfield and the cause which he had at heart
should not suffer by his display of a most unusual courtesy.
The next day all England was discussing the case of the new Enoch Arden.
They would have discussed the case throughout the length and breadth of
the land simply on account of the romantic elements that it contained,
even if the lady who played so important a part in it had been an
ordinary young person; but as she was a lady whose achievements during
the last byelection had been directly under the eye of the public, the
interest in the romance was immeasurably increased. The representative
of the Press agency who had the handling of the story from the first,
had not found it necessary to embellish in any way the account of his
interview with Marcus Blaydon in the morning or with Mr. Wingfield in
the afternoon. After alluding to the mystery suggested by Mr. Blaydon’s
remark, published in connection with his reappearance in the land of the
living the previous day, he described how he had waited upon Mr. Blaydon
to try to convince him that the painful matters which had necessitated
his making a voyage to England could scarcely fail to be of interest to
newspaper readers; and how he had succeeded in convincing Mr. Blaydon
of the correctness of his contention. Mr. Blaydon had then described the
incidents associated with his escape from destruction; how he had been
cast upon the rocks in his attempt to carry a line ashore, and how
he had lain there for some days, with practically nothing to eat, and
apparently suffering from such internal injuries as prevented him from
reaching the house where those of his messmates who had survived the
terrible night were being so hospitably treated.
Then, according to his own account, it occurred to Mr. Blaydon that the
chance of his life had come--such a chance as comes but too rarely to
an unfortunate man who has acted foolishly, but is anxious to redeem
the past--the chance of beginning life over again. He was well aware,
he said, that he would be reported as dead, and that was just what he
wished for: to be dead to all the world, so that he might have another
chance of succeeding in life without being handicapped by his unhappy
past.
So Mr. Blaydon’s story went on, telling how he had just made a start in
this new life of his, when by chance he came upon an English newspaper,
referring to the fact that the gentleman who had agreed to contest the
Nuttingford division of Nethershire at the by-election had just married
the daughter of Mr. Wadhurst of Athalsdean Farm. Then, and only then,
did he, the narrator, perceive that he would have acted more wisely
if he had written to the lady who believed herself to be his widow,
apprising her of the fact of his being alive, and endeavouring to make
for himself a name that she might bear without a blush. (Mr. Blaydon
was well acquainted, it appeared, with the phraseology of the repentant
sinner of the Drury Lane autumn drama.)
“What was my duty when I heard that my wife had gone through the
ceremony of marriage with another man?” That was the question which
perplexed Mr. Blaydon, as a conscientious man anxious not to diverge a
hair’s breadth from the line of Duty--strict duty. Well, perhaps some
people might blame him; but he confessed that the thought of his dear
wife--the girl whom he had wooed and won very little more than a year
before--going to another man and living with him believing herself to be
his wife, was too much for him. He made up his mind that so shocking a
situation could not be allowed to continue, and he had made his way back
to her side, only, alas! to be repulsed and turned out of her house with
contempt, though the fact that her father had received him with the open
arms of a father in welcoming the return of the prodigal, proved that
even in these days, etc., etc.
Stripped of all emotional verbiage, Mr. Blaydon’s statements simply
amounted to a declaration of his intention to apply to the court to make
an order to restore to him his conjugal rights in respect of the lady
who was incontestably his lawful wife.
Following this was the account of an interview with Mr. Wingfield, M.P.,
who, it appeared, had already taken action in the matter on behalf
of the lady referred to by Mr. Blaydon. The interviewer succeeded in
conveying to a reader something of what he termed the “breezy colloquial
style” of Mr. Wingfield, in the latter’s references to the Enoch
Ardenism of Mr. Blaydon; but very little appeared in the account of the
interview that had not actually taken place at the interview itself.
Readers of the newspapers were made fully acquainted with the fact that
Messrs. Liscomb and Liscomb had already made a move in the case, and
that the invaluable services of Sir Edward had been retained for the
lady, and also that the lady was living at Overdean Manor House, which
chanced to be the residence of Mr. Wingfield, M.P., and that it was
her intention to remain there for a period that was not defined by the
writer. He refrained from even the suggestion that the period might be
“till the case is decided by the court.”
The remainder of the column was occupied by a pleasant description of
Overdean Manor Park in early August, with a quotation from the “Highways
and Byways” series, and a brief account of the Wingfield family.
Of course, in addition to these particulars which appeared in most of
the newspapers, the illustrated dailies contained a reproduction of the
recently-used “blocks” of Mr. and Mrs. Wingfield on their now celebrated
election campaign, as well as some entirely new photographs of the Manor
House, and Athalsdean Farm, the birthplace of “Mrs. Wingfield”--nearly
all the newspapers referred to Priscilla as Mrs. Wingfield, inside
quotation marks; but three or four omitted the quotation marks, and an
equal number, who were sticklers for strict accuracy, called her Mrs.
Blaydon, though one of them half apologised for its accuracy by adding
“as we suppose we must call the unfortunate lady.”
The comments on the romantic features of the case which were to be read
in different type in the columns devoted to the leading articles, were
all of that character which is usually described as “guarded.” The
writers excused their want of definiteness on the ground that it would
be grossly improper for anyone to offer such a comment as might tend to
prejudice a judge or jury in the suits which would occupy the attention
of the law courts during the Michaelmas sittings. It was quite enough
for the writers to point out some of the remarkable features of the
whole romance, beginning with the arrest of Marcus Blaydon when in the
act of leaving the church where the wedding had taken place--most of the
articles dealt very tenderly with this episode--and going on to refer
to the impression produced on the court by the appeal for mercy to the
judge made by Marcus Blay-don’s counsel on the ground of his recent
marriage to a charming and accomplished girl to whom he was devoted,
and who would certainly suffer far more than the prisoner himself by his
incarceration--an appeal which the judge admitted had influenced him in
pronouncing his very mild sentence of imprisonment.
These were some of the nasty bits of publicity which Jack Wingfield had
foreseen. Priscilla had reddened a good deal reading them, but she had
not shrunk from their perusal. She accepted everything as part of the
ordeal which she had to face. She even smiled when, a few days later,
there appeared in one of the papers a letter signed “A Dissatisfied
Elector,” affirming that, as the election for the Nuttingford division
had to all intents and purposes been won for Mr. John Wingfield by a
lady who was not his lawful wife, the seat should be declared vacant.
Jack also smiled--after an interval--and threw the paper into the basket
reserved for such rubbish.