Cursed by a Fortune

Chapter Forty Two

“Still obstinate?”

Kate turned her head and looked gravely at Garstang, but made no reply.

A week had passed since the scene in the library, and during that period she had calmly resumed her old position in the house, meeting her enemy at the morning and evening meals; and while completely crushing every advance by her manner, shown him that she was waiting in full confidence for the hour of her release.

She never once showed her weakness, or let him see traces of the misery or despair which rendered her nights, sleeping or waking, an agony; she answered him quietly enough whenever he spoke on ordinary subjects, but at the slightest approach to familiarity, or if he showed a disposition to argue about the folly, as he called it, of her conduct, she rose and left the room, and somehow her manner impressed him so, that he dared not try to detain her.

He felt, as she had told him, that it was no longer the weak girl with whom he was contending, but the firm, imperious woman; while her confidence in her own power increased as she, on more than one occasion, realised the fact that she had completely mastered.

But the position remained the same, and as soon as she was alone the battle with another enemy commenced. Despair was always making its insidious approaches, sapping her very life, and teaching her that her triumph was but temporary; and she shuddered often as she thought of the hour when her strength and determination would fail.

Another week commenced, and she noted that there was a marked change in Garstang. Consummate actor as he was, he had returned to his former treatment, save that he no longer played the amiable guardian, but the chivalrous gentleman, full of deference and respect for her slightest wish. He made no approaches. There was nothing in his behaviour to which the most scrupulous could have objected; but knowing full well now that he had only covered his face with a fresh mask, she was more than ever on her guard, never relaxing her watchfulness of self for a moment.

She could only feel that he was waiting his time, that it was a siege which would be long, but undertaken by him in the full belief that sooner or later she would surrender.

That he left the house sometimes she felt convinced; but how or when she never knew, and the greater part of his time was passed in the library, where he evidently worked hard over what seemed to be legal business. Japanned tin boxes had made their appearance, and she had more than once seen the table littered with papers and parchments; but all these disappeared into the boxes at night, and the evenings were spent much as of old, though the conversation was distant and brief.

At last, about a fortnight after the setting in of the fresh regime, she was descending the stairs one afternoon, when she had proof of Garstang’s having been away, for a latch-key rattled in the door, he entered, and stood with it open, while a cabman brought in a large deed box, set it down in the hall, and the door was closed and locked. After this, Garstang lifted the box to bear it into the library, when he caught sight of Kate descending to enter the inner room, the one into which he had ushered her on the morning of her coming, and in which he now passed a great deal of his time.

As their eyes met she saw that he looked pale and haggard, and it struck her at the moment that something had occurred to disturb him. Her heart leaped, for naturally enough she felt that it must be something relating to her, and in the momentary fit of exultation she felt that help was coming, and hurried into the room to hide the agitation from which she was suffering.

And now for the first time since her attempt to escape, she caught sight of Becky, passing down from the upper part of the staircase, but the glance was only momentary. As soon as she saw that she was observed, the pale-faced woman drew back.

There she stood, panting heavily as if suffering from some severe exertion. For she felt that Garstang would follow her in, that there would be a scene; but the minutes went by, and all was quite still, and by degrees her firmness was restored; but instinctively she felt that something was about to happen, and the dread of this, whatever it might be, set her longing to escape.

And now once more the idea came that it was absurd for her to be in prison there, when it seemed as if she had only to open the door and step out, or else descend to the basement, wait till one of the tradesmen came down the area, and then seize that opportunity to go.

But she had tried it and failed. The doors were always locked, save when tradesmen or postmen came; and then there was the area gate. No one ever came down.

The dinner time came, and she calmly took her place. Garstang was quietly cordial, though a little more silent than customary to her; but it was plain enough that he was suffering from some unusual excitement, when he addressed the housekeeper. For he found fault with nearly everything, and finally dismissed her in a fit of anger.

“Servants are so thoughtless,” he said, with an apologetic smile. “That woman knows perfectly well what I like, and yet if I do not go into a fit of anger with her now and then, she grows dilatory and careless. But there, I beg your pardon; I ought to have waited until we were alone.”

Kate rose soon after and went into the library, where, as she sat reading, she was dimly conscious of voices in the passage; and assuming that the housekeeper was again being taken to task, she forced herself to think only of her book, and soon after silence and the closing of the dining-room door told her that Garstang had gone back to his wine.

His stay after dinner had grown longer now, and it was quite half-past nine before he joined her, sometimes partaking of a cup of tea, but more often declining it, and sitting in silence gazing at the fire.

Upon this occasion she sat until the housekeeper brought in the tea tray, placed it upon its table, while a low, hissing sound outside told her that the urn was waiting; and Kate found herself thinking that Becky must be there until her mother fetched it, and she wondered whether it would be possible to get a few words with the woman again, and if she would be too frightened to try and post another letter.

Kate looked up suddenly and found that the housekeeper was watching her in a peculiar manner, but turned hurriedly away in confusion, and fetched the tea-caddy to place beside the tray. And again Kate found that she was watching her, and it seemed to her that it was with a pitying look in her eyes. This idea soon gave place to another. The woman wanted to talk to her, and her theme would be Garstang.

“That will do, Mrs Plant,” she said; when the woman darted another peculiar look at her, and Kate saw the woman’s lips move, but she said nothing aloud, and left the room, leaving its occupant thoughtful and repentant. For it struck her that the woman’s eyes had a pitying sympathetic aspect, and that perhaps a few words of appeal to her better feelings would be of no avail, and that help might come through her after all.

Should she ring and try?

A few minutes’ thought, and the idea grew less and less vivid, till it died away.

“She dare not, even if she would,” thought Kate; and calmly and methodically she proceeded to make the tea, just casually noticing that the screw which held in its place the ornamental knob on the lid of the silver tea-pot had been off and was secured in its place again with what appeared to be resin.

It was a trifle which seemed to be of no importance then, as she turned on the hot water from the urn, rinsed out the pot made the tea and sat thinking while she gave it time to draw. Her thoughts were upon the old theme, the way of escape, or to find a way of sending letters to both Jenny and her uncle.

She started from her reverie, poured out a cupful, took up her book again, grew immersed in it, and sat back sipping her tea from time to time, till about half the cup was finished, before she noticed that it had a peculiar flavour, but concluded that it was fresh tea, and she had made it a little too strong.

The old German book was interesting, and she still read on and sipped her tea till she had finished the cup, and then sat frowning, for the last spoonful or two had the peculiar flavour intensified.

It was very strange. The tea was very different. She smelt the dregs in her cup, and the odour was strongly herbaceous.

She tasted it again, and it was stronger, while the flavour was now clinging to her palate.

She sat thinking for a few moments, laid her book aside, and let a little water from the urn flow into the spare cup, and examined it.

Pure and tasteless, just boiled water; there was nothing there; so she drew the pot to her side, opened the lid and smelt it.

The odour was plain enough. A dull, vapid, flat scent, which seemed familiar, but she could not give it a name.

“What strange tea!” she thought; and then the mystery was out, for she caught sight of the fastening of the lid handle. It was as it usually appeared; but the screw was loose, and it turned and rattled in her fingers. The dark, resinous patch which had held it firmly had gone, melted by the heat and steam, and hence the peculiar flavour of the tea.

“How stupid!” she exclaimed; and rising from her seat, she rang the bell.

The housekeeper was longer than usual in answering, and Kate was about to ring again, when the woman appeared, looking nervous and scared.

“Did you ring, ma’am?” she asked; and her voice sounded weak and husky.

“Yes; look at that tea-pot, Mrs Plant; smell the tea.”

“Is – is anything the matter with it, ma’am?” faltered the woman.

“Matter? Yes! How could you be so foolish! I noticed that something had been used to fasten the knob on the lid.”

“Yes – yes, ma’am; it has worn loose. The screw has got old.”

“What did you use to fasten it with – resin?”

“I – I did not do anything to it, ma’am,” faltered the woman, whose face was now ghastly.

“Someone did, and it melted down into the tea. It tastes horrible. Take the pot, and wash it out I must make some fresh.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said the woman eagerly, glancing from the tea-pot to her and back again. “You had better make some fresh, of course.”

She uttered a sigh, as if relieved, but Kate saw that her hands trembled as she took up the pot.

“There, be quick. I shall not complain to Mr Garstang, and get you another scolding.”

“Thank you, ma’am – no ma’am,” said the woman faintly, and she glanced behind her toward the door, and then caught at the table to support herself.

“What is the matter? Are you unwell?” asked Kate.

“N-no, ma’am – a little faint and giddy, that’s all,” she faltered. “I – am gettin’ better now – it’s going off.”

“You are ill?” said Kate kindly. “Never mind the tea. I will go to the cellaret and get you a little brandy. There, sit down for a few moments. Yes, sit down; your face is covered with cold perspiration. Are you in the habit of turning like this?”

The woman did not answer, but sat back in the chair into which she had been pressed, moaning slightly, and wringing her hands.

“No-no,” she whispered wildly; “don’t go. He’s there. I dursen’t. I shall be better directly. Miss Wilton, I couldn’t help it, dear; he – he did it. Don’t say you’ve drunk any of that tea!”

It was Kate’s turn to snatch at something to support her, as the horrible truth flashed upon her; and she stood there with her face ghastly and her eyes wild and staring at the woman, who had now struggled to her feet.

For some moments she could not stir, but at last the reaction came, and she caught the housekeeper tightly by the arm, and placed her lips to her ear.

“You are a woman – a mother; for God’s sake, help me! Quick, while there is time. Take me with you now.”

“I can’t – I can’t,” came back faintly; “I daren’t; it’s impossible.”

Kate thrust the woman from her, and with a sudden movement clapped her hands to her head to try and collect herself, for a strange singing had come in her ears, and objects in the room seemed a long distance off.

The sensation was momentary and was succeeded by a feeling of wild exhilaration and strength, but almost instantaneously this too passed off; and she reeled, and saved herself from falling by catching at one of the easy chairs, into which she sank, and sat staring helplessly at the woman, who was now speaking to someone – she could not see whom – but the words spoken rang in her ears above the strange metallic singing which filled them.

“Oh, sir, pray – pray, only think! For God’s sake, sir!”

“Curse you, hold your tongue, and go! Dare to say another word, and – do you hear me? – go!”

Kate was sensible of a thin cold hand clutching at hers for a moment; then a wave of misty light which she could not penetrate passed softly before her eyes, and this gradually deepened; the voices grew more and more distant and then everything seemed to have passed away.

Chapter Forty Three

“Curse you! Do you hear what I say?” roared Garstang, furiously; “leave the room!”

“No, sir, I won’t!” cried the housekeeper, as she stood sobbing and wringing her hands by Kate’s side. “It’s horrible; it’s shameful!”

“Silence!”

“No, I won’t be silenced now,” cried the woman. “You’re my master, and I’ve done everything you told me up to now, for I thought she was only holding back, and that at last she’d consent and be happy with you; but you’re not the good man I thought you were, and the poor dear knew you better than I did; and I wouldn’t leave her now, not if I died for it – so there!”

“Come, come,” said Garstang, hurriedly; “don’t be absurd, Sarah. You are excited, and don’t know what you are saying.”

“I never knew better what I was saying, sir,” cried the woman, passionately. “Absurd! Oh, God forgive you – you wicked wretch! And forgive me too for listening to you to-day. You took me by surprise, you did, and I didn’t see the full meaning of it all. Oh, it’s shameful! – it’s horrible! And I believe you’ve killed her; and we shall all be hung, and serve us right, only I hope poor Becky, who is innocent as a lamb, will get off.”

“Look here, Sarah, my good woman; you are frightened, and without cause.”

“Without cause? Oh, look at her – look at her! She’s dying – she’s dying!”

“Hush, you silly woman! There, I won’t be cross with you; you’re startled and hysterical. Run into the dining-room and fetch the brandy from the cellaret.”

“No. If you want brandy, sir, fetch it yourself. I don’t stir from here till this poor dear has come to, or lies stiff and cold.”

Garstang ground his teeth, and rushed upon the woman savagely, but she did not shrink; and he mastered himself and took a turn or two up and down the room before facing her again, and beginning to temporise.

“Look here, Sarah,” he said, in a low, husky voice; “I’ve been a good friend to you.”

“Yes, sir, always,” said the woman, with a sob.

“And I’ve made a home here for your idiot child.”

“Which she ain’t an idiot at all, sir, but she ain’t everybody’s money; and grateful I’ve always been for your kindness, and you know how I’ve tried to show it. Haven’t I backed you up in this? Of course, you wanted to marry such a dear, sweet, young creature; but for it to come to that! Oh! shame upon you, shame!”

Garstang made a fierce gesture, but he controlled himself and stopped by her again.

“Now just try and listen to me, and let me talk to you, not as my old servant, but as my old friend, whom I have trusted in this delicate affair, and whom I want to go on trusting to help me.”

“No, sir, no. You’ve broken all that, and I’ll never leave the poor dear – there!”

“Will you hear me speak first?” said Garstang, making a tremendous effort to keep down his rage.

“Yes, sir, I’ll listen,” said the woman; “but I’ll stop here.”

“Now, let me tell you, then – as a friend, mind – how I am situated. It is vital to me that we should be married at once, and you must see as a woman, that for her reputation’s sake, after being here with me so long, she ought to give up all opposition. Now, you see that – ”

“I’d have said ‘Yes’ to it yesterday, sir,” said the woman, firmly; “but I can’t say it to-night.”

“Nonsense! I tell you it is for her benefit. I only want her to feel that further resistance is useless. There, now, I have spoken out to you. You see it is for the best. To-morrow or next day we shall be married by special license. I have made all the arrangements.”

“Then, now go and make all the arrangements for the poor dear’s funeral, you bad, wicked wretch!” cried the woman passionately, as she sank on her knees and clasped Kate about the waist. “Oh, my poor dear, my poor dear, he has murdered you!”

“Silence, idiot!” cried Garstang, in a fierce whisper. “Can’t you see that she is only asleep?”

“Asleep? Do you call this sleep? Look at her poor staring eyes. Feel her hands. – No, no, keep back. You shan’t touch her.”

She turned upon him with so savage and cat-like a gesture that he stopped short with his brows rugged and his hands clenched.

There was a few moments’ pause, but the woman did not wince; and Garstang felt more than ever that he must temporise again. He burst into a mocking laugh.

“Oh, you silly woman,” he said. “All this nonsense about a girl’s holding off for a time. You’ve often heard her say how she liked me. You know she came here of her own free will. And I know you feel that I mean to marry her as soon as I can persuade her to come to the church. What a storm you are making about nothing! She has taken something. Well, you consented to its being given her; and you are going as frantic as if I had poisoned her.”

“I know, I know,” cried the woman, “and I was a vile wretch to consent to help you.”

“Stuff and nonsense, Sarah, old friend. Now look here; suppose instead of its being a harmless sleeping draught, it had been the effect of her drinking an extra glass or two of champagne. Would you have gone on then like this?”

“It’s of no use for you to talk; I know what a smooth winning tongue you’ve got, as would bring a bird down out of a tree; but I know you thoroughly now; and Becky was right; you’re a base man, and you did worry and worry poor dear Mr Jenour till he shot himself. You robbed him till you’d got everything that was his, and now you’ve murdered this poor darling girl.”

“That will do,” cried Garstang, stung now to the quick. “If you will be a fool you must suffer for it. Now, listen to me, woman; this is my house, and this is my wife. She came to me, and she is mine. I have told you that I will take her to the church. Now, go up to your room – I am desperate now – and if you dare to make a sound or to leave it till to-morrow morning, I’ll shoot you and your girl too.”

The woman stared at him, her lips parted, and with dilated eyes.

“You know what this place is. Not a sound can reach the outside. You have not a soul who would come to inquire after you, and the world would never know what had become of you. Now go.”

She stood up, trembling like a leaf, fascinated by his fierce eyes, and began to walk slowly round to the other side of the table, sidewise, so as to keep as far from him as she could.

“Hah!” he said, through his set teeth, “you understand me then at last. Upstairs with you at once,” and as he spoke he stepped quickly to Kate’s side, dropped on one knee, and took hold of her icy hand. But he sprang to his feet, half stunned, the next moment, for with a wild cry, the woman threw open the door as if to escape from him, but tore out the key.