Cursed by a Fortune

Chapter Twenty Eight

Kate gave way most unwillingly, but felt obliged to yield to what she felt was a common-sense view of the question.

“If you write now we shall be having endless trouble,” said Garstang. “Your uncle will come here, and I shall be compelled to give you up.”

“But I would refuse to go,” said Kate, with spirit.

Garstang smiled, and shrugged his shoulders.

“Will you give me credit, as an old lawyer, my dear child, for knowing a little of the law?”

“Of course,” she cried.

“Well, let me tell you that if James Wilton finds out where you are, I foresee endless troubles. You know his projects?”

Kate nodded quickly.

“To compass those plans, he will stop at nothing, even force. But supposing I defeat him in that, for I tell you frankly I should make every effort, he would set the law to work. If I get the best counsel I can, we shall have a long, wearisome lawsuit, and probably your late father’s estate will be thrown into Chancery. You will become a ward of the Lord Chancellor, and the inroads made upon your fortune will be frightful.”

“I don’t think I should care,” said Kate, looking at him wistfully, “so long as I could be at peace.”

“Have you thought out any relative or friend whom you feel that you can trust, and to whom you would like to go?”

“No; not yet,” said Kate, wearily; “and I have tried very hard.”

“Then don’t try, my child,” he said, with a smile, “and then perhaps the idea will come. I ought to say, though,” he added, playfully, “do try hard, so as not to succeed, for I do not want you to go. It is as if a change had come over my life, and like the man in one of the old plays, I had discovered a long-lost child.”

“Pray don’t treat it lightly, Mr Garstang,” said Kate. “All this troubles me terribly. I feel so helpless.”

“Believe me that if I talk lightly, I think very, very seriously of your position,” said Garstang, quickly. “I know how painful it must be for you to neglect your friends, those to whom you would write, but really I am obliged to advocate reticence for the present. I will have your letters posted if you desire me to, but I am bound to show you the consequences which must follow.”

Kate sighed, and looked more and more troubled.

“To put it more plainly,” continued Garstang, “my position is that I have an extensive practice, with many clients to see, and consequently I must be a great deal away. Now suppose one morning, when I am out, James Wilton and his son present themselves. What will you do?”

Kate shivered, and gazed at him helplessly.

“I shall not feel best pleased to come back home to dinner, and find you gone.”

“My position is terrible,” said Kate. “I almost wish I were penniless.”

“Come, come, not so terrible; it is only that of a prisoner who has her cell door barred inside, so that she can open it when she pleases. May I try and advise you a little?”

“Yes, pray, pray do, Mr Garstang.”

“Well, my advice is this – even if it causes your poor old nurse great anxiety. She will be content later on, when she learns that it was for your benefit. My advice is for you to try and settle down here for a while, so as to see how matters shape themselves, or till you have decided where it would be better for you to go.”

She looked at him wistfully.

“Could I not take apartments somewhere, and have Eliza up to keep house for me?”

“Well – yes,” he said, thoughtfully. “It would be risky, for every movement of your old servant will be jealously watched just now. It would be better later on. What do you think?”

“That I do not wish to seem ungrateful for your kindness, neither do I feel justified in putting you to great trouble and expense.”

“Pooh, pooh,” he said, merrily, “I am not so poor that I can not afford myself a few pleasures. But proper pride is a fine thing. There, you shall be independent, and pay me back everything when you come of age.”

He glanced at his watch, for breakfast had been over some time, and they had sat talking.

“I am keeping you, Mr Garstang,” she said.

“Well, I like to be kept, but I have several appointments to-day. Have a good quiet think while I am gone, and we will talk it over again to-night.”

“No,” said Kate, quietly, “you will be tired then. I will take your advice, Mr Garstang.”

“Yes?” he said, raising his eyebrows a little.

“I will stay here for a time, where, as you say, I can be at rest and safe from intrusion. We will see what time brings forth.”

“Spoken like a thoughtful, wise little woman,” said Garstang, without the slightest display of elation. “By the way, you find plenty of books to read?”

“Oh, yes, and I have been studying the old china.”

“A very interesting subject; but music – you are fond of music. We must see about that.”

He nodded and smiled, and then she saw that he became very calm and thoughtful, as if immersed in his business affairs.

Once more she was quite alone, thinking that she had been a whole week in the solemn old house, and a few minutes later the housekeeper entered to clear away the breakfast things.

“Is there anything I can do for you, ma’am?” said the woman sadly, when she had finished her task, Kate noticing the while that there was an occasional whisper outside the door, as the various articles were handed out.

“No, I think not, this morning, Sarah,” said Kate, with a smile which proved infectious, for the woman stood staring at her for a few moments as if in wonder, and then her own countenance relaxed stiffly, as if she had not smiled in years, till her face looked nearly cheerful.

“You are handsome, ma’am,” she said; “I haven’t seen you look like that before since you’ve been here.”

“Why does not Becky come in to help you to clear away?” said Kate, to change the conversation, and Sarah Plant’s face grew stern and withered again, as she shook her head.

“She’s such a sight, ma’am, with that handkercher round her head.”

“I should not mind that; I have not fairly seen her since I came.”

“No, ma’am, and you won’t if she can help it. You mayn’t mind, but she do. She always hides herself when anybody’s about. Poor girl, she’s been in trouble almost ever since she was born. There’s sure to be something in this life. Not as I complains of master. It was just the same with old master, and when he died it made Becky ever so much worse. You see, ma’am, old master’s wife was ill for a long time, and that made the house dull and quiet; and then she died, and old master was never the same again. He spent scores o’ thousands o’ pounds on furniture, and books, and china, and did everything he could to make the place nice, but he never held up his head again. And then somehow his money went wrong, and new master used to come to help him out of his troubles, but it was no use; old master never had the blinds pulled up again; and that made Becky and me different to most folk, for it used to be like being shut up in a cupboard, and we never hardly went out. Becky ain’t been out of the house for years, and years, and years.”

“We must make the house more cheerful now, Sarah.”

The woman looked at her in astonishment, and then shook her head.

“Well, ma’am, I will say that it has seemed different since you came; but no – it’s beautifully furnished, and I never see a better kitchen in my life – but make it cheerful? No, ma’am, it ain’t to be done.”

“We shall see,” said Kate, smiling, and the woman’s face relaxed once more as she gazed at the fair, intellectual countenance before her as if it were some beautiful object which gave her real pleasure; but as Kate’s smile died away her own features looked cloudy, and she shook her head.

“No, ma’am, it’s my belief as this was meant to be a dull house before the big trouble came. Me and Becky used to say to one another it was just as if the sun had gone out, but we never expected what came at last, or I believe we should have run away.”

The moment before Kate had been thinking of dismissing the housekeeper to her work, but this hint at something which had happened enchained her attention, and the woman went on.

“You see, old master kept on getting from bad to worse, spite of Mr Garstang’s coming and seeing to his affairs; and one day the doctor says to me: ‘It’s of no use, Mrs Plant, I can do nothing for a man who shuts himself up and sets all the laws of nature at defiance.’ Those were his very words, ma’am; I recollected them because I never quite knew what they meant; but the doctor evidently thought master had done something wrong, though I don’t think he ever did, for he was such a good man. Then came that morning, ma’am. I may as well tell you now. Becky used to sleep with me then, same as she does now, but that was before she had face-ache and fits. I remember it as well as can be. It was just at daylight in autumn time, when the men brings round the ropes of onions, and I nudged her, and I says, ‘Time to get up, Becky,’ and she yawned and got up and went down, for she always dressed quicker than I could. And there I was, dressing, and thinking that master had told me that Mr Garstang was coming at ten o’clock, and I was to send him into the library at once, and breakfast was to be ready there.

“I’d just put on my cap, ma’am, and was going down, when I heard the horridest shriek as ever was, and sank down in a chair trembling, for I felt as sure as sure that burglars were in the house, and they were murdering my poor Becky. I was that frightened I got up and tottered to the door, and locked and bolted it, for I said they shouldn’t murder me. But, oh, dear; what I did suffer! ‘Pretty sort of a mother you are,’ I says to myself, ‘taking care of yourself, and letting poor Becky be cut to pieces p’raps to hide their crime.’

“That went to my heart like a knife, ma’am, and I unfastened the door again and went out and listened, and all was still as still. You know how quiet it can be in this house, ma’am, don’t you?”

Kate nodded.

“So I stood trembling there at the very top of the house, for we used to sleep up there, then, before Becky took to wanting to be downstairs, where she wasn’t so likely to be seen; and though I listened and I listened, there wasn’t a sound, and I give it to myself again. ‘Why,’ I says, ‘a cat would scratch if you tried to take away its kitten to drown it’ – as well I know, ma’am, for I’ve tried – ‘and you stand there doing nothing about your own poor girl.’ That roused me, ma’am, and I went down, with the staircase all gloomy, with the light coming only from the sooty skylight in the roof; and there were the china cupboards and the statues in the dark corners all seeming to look down at something on the first floor. I was ready to drop a dozen times over, but I felt that I must go, even if I died for it; and down I went, step by step, peeping before me, and ready to shriek for help directly I saw what it was.

“But there was nothing that I could see, and I stopped on the first floor, looking over the banisters and trying to make out whether the hall door was open; but no, I couldn’t see anything, and I went along sideways, looking down still, till I saw that the dining-room door was open, and it seemed to me that the shrieking must have come from there. I was just opposite to the door leading into the two little lib’ries – you know, ma’am, where the big curtain is – and I was taking another step sideways, meaning to look a little more over and then go and call up master, who didn’t seem to have heard, when I caught my foot on something, and cried out and fell. And then I found it was poor Becky, who had just crawled out of the doorway on her hands and knees.

“For just a minute I couldn’t say a word, but when I did, and asked her what was the matter, she only knelt there, clinging to my gownd, and staring up at me with a face that was horrible to behold.

“‘What is it – what is it?’ I kept on saying, but she couldn’t speak, only kneel there, staring at me till I took her by the shoulders and shook her well. ‘Why don’t you speak?’ I says. ‘What is it?’

“She only said ‘Oh’ – a regular groan it was, and she turned her head slowly round to look back at the little lib’ry passage, and then she turned back and hid her face in my petticoats.

“‘Tell me what it is, Becky,’ I says, more gently, for it didn’t seem that any harm was coming to us, but she couldn’t speak, only point behind her toward the little lib’ry door, and this made me shiver, for I knew there must be something dreadful there. At last, though, for fear she should think I was a coward, I tried to get away from her, but she clung to me that tight that I couldn’t get my gownd clear for ever so long. But at last I did, and I went into the little lobby through the door; but there was nothing there, and the lib’ry door was shut close; and I was coming back when I felt Becky seize me by the arm and point again, and then I saw what I hadn’t seen before; there were footmarks on the carpet fresh made, and I saw that Becky must have made ’em when she had gone to the lib’ry door; and there was the reason for it, just seen by the light which came from the little skylight – there it was, stealing slowly under the bottom of the mat.”

Chapter Twenty Nine

Kate Wilton looked at the woman in horror.

“Yes, ma’am,” Sarah continued, “there it was, and when I opened the door I could only get it a little way, for something was just inside, and as I stood there trembling, there came out a nasty wet smell of gunpowder, just as if water had been upset on the hob.

“I didn’t want any telling, ma’am; I knew, and poor Becky knew, that master had shot himself with something and was lying there.

“I waited for just about a minute, ma’am, for my senses seemed to be quite gone, and I was as bad as poor Becky; but I got to be a little sensible soon, and began to feel that I must do something. I called to Becky to come and help me, but it was no use; she was just as if she was stunned, and could only stare at me, shivering all the while. So I felt that I must do what there was to do myself, and I went back to the door, and pushed and pushed till I could just squeeze myself through the narrow slit I made; and then I dursen’t look round, but stood with my back to it for ever so long before I could feel that he might be alive, and that I ought to go for the doctor.

“I looked round then, feeling as I turned that I should be obliged to shriek out, but I didn’t. Poor master, he was lying on his side, with his hand under his head, just quiet and calm, as if he had only gone to sleep. It made me wonder what I had been frightened at, and I went down on one knee and took the hand which was by his side, touching a pistol.”

“Yes?” said Kate, breathlessly, for the woman paused.

“Yes, ma’am, it was quite cold. He must have shot himself early in the night, and I knew it was no good to go to fetch a doctor then. Leastwise I think that’s what I felt, for I didn’t go, but crept out very softly and shut the door; and then I took hold of poor Becky’s arm and led her down to the kitchen, where she went off into a dead faint, and came to, and fainted over again – fit after fit, so that I was busy for hours and didn’t know how time went, till all at once there was a double knock at the door, which I knew was Mr Garstang come.

“I went up and let him in, and he looked at me so strange.

“‘What is it?’ he said; ‘your master?’

“‘Yes, sir,’ I says, ‘and I was to show you in as soon as you came.’

“He nodded, and went up at once, neither of us saying another word. Then he went in through the door gently, and came out again, looking horribly shocked.

“‘When did you find him?’ he says; and I told him. ‘Poor fellow!’ he says, ‘I am not surprised. Sarah Plant, you must go and tell the police;’ and I did, and there was an inquest, and at last the poor old master was to be buried, with only Mr Garstang to follow him, for he had no relations or friends.

“I sat in my bit of noo black, and Becky just opposite me, waiting while they’d gone to the cemetery, for no one asked me to go, and I sat there looking at Becky, who began crying as she heard them carrying the coffin downstairs and never stopped all that time. And I thought to myself, ‘We two will have to go out into the world, and nobody won’t take us with poor Becky like that;’ and my heart was so full, miss – ma’am, that I began to cry, too; but I’m afraid it was for myself, not for poor master. Last of all, the carriage came back, and I let Mr Garstang in, looking terribly cut up.

“‘Bring me a little tea, Sarah,’ he says, and I went and got it, and had a cup, too, wanting it as I did badly, and by-and-by he rung for me to fetch the tray.

“I got to the door with it, when he calls me back.

“‘Sarah,’ he says, ‘your poor master has no relations left, and by the papers I hold, everything comes to me.’

“‘Yes, sir; so I s’posed,’ I says to him, ‘and you want me and Becky to go at once.’

“He looked at me with that nice soft smile of his, and he says, ‘Why should you think that? No,’ he says, ‘I want everything to stay just as it is; I won’t have a thing moved, and I should be very glad if you and Becky would stay and keep the house for me.’

“I couldn’t answer him, ma’am, for I was crying bitterly; but I knew him, what a good man he was, and that me and Becky had found a friend. Seven years ago, ma’am, and never an unkind word from him when he came, which wasn’t often. He only told me not to gossip about the place, and I said I wouldn’t, and never did till I talked to you, ma’am, and as for poor Becky, she never speaks to no one. Perhaps, ma’am, you’d like to come upstairs, and see the marks.”