A Ring of Rubies

Chapter Ten

Relations

I parried Hetty’s curious remarks with regard to the telegram, putting her off at first with vague replies, then speaking decidedly.

“I have had a message from my mother, dear Hetty,” I said; “nothing at all about Jack, nothing that will interest you.”

“Oh, of course, Rosamund – ” Hetty’s pale face flushed vividly. She took up some knitting she was trying to get through, a sock for Jack, of course. I saw her poor little fingers trembling. She was the most sensitive little creature. A touch, a word, sent her into herself. She felt so unsure of her position, so unsure of everything, except that she had a great hungry wealth of love to give away to those who would receive it of her.

As I saw her making these futile, pathetic little attempts to get on with her knitting, I felt some of the experiences one might feel if one had set one’s foot on a little wild-flower and crushed it. I watched her timid, downcast eyes for a moment, then I spoke.

“After all, Hetty,” I said, “I should not be in the least surprised if the contents of my mother’s telegram interested you amazingly. I don’t see why you shouldn’t know. It is a most exciting story. We’ll have tea together, and then I’ll tell it to you.”

Hetty’s little face came quickly out of the shadow in which it had looked so pathetic. She was all smiles and sunshine once more. She even laughed with glee when I arranged our evening meal. Her impatience to know the mystery was absolutely childish, but I was determined not to be cross with her, nor to blame her in any way again.

After we had finished eating, I drew a chair up to her sofa, and began my story. I told everything from the beginning – I mean from the time of my visit to Cousin Geoffrey. Really, Hetty was a most delightful listener; she was all sympathy, her interest was absorbing, she interrupted the narrative with no questions, but her beautiful eyes spoke volumes for her. They expressed wonder, sorrow, joy. I had quite a pleasant time as I told my little romance. I could not have desired a prettier sight than Hetty’s eyes with the soul looking out of them as they gazed at me.

What a benefit to the possessor those speaking eyes are! In some cases I could imagine them to be the best of all good fairies’ gifts, for what can they not do? Wheedle, coax, command, subdue. Hetty was not a particularly brilliant personage in any way. She was a very loving, dear, true little creature, but she was neither clever, nor particularly heroic. Yet with her eyes she could command a kingdom. Now some people speak of me as clever, and I know I have plenty of presence of mind, but I can do nothing at all with my eyes.

Well, Hetty heard the story, and then she examined the ring, and then we had a long consultation over Lady Ursula’s visit of the morrow.

“Won’t you write and tell her not to come?” said Hetty.

“Oh dear, no,” I said, “I am not afraid of Lady Ursula Redmayne, – she can come if she wishes to.”

Hetty sighed.

“You are courageous, Rose,” she answered. The next morning my brother’s wife took upon herself to show great anxiety with regard to my wardrobe.

“I want you to look beautiful,” she said. “Don’t you think you might wear your hair not quite – not quite so flat on your forehead?”

I laughed.

“Oh, my dear,” I answered, “you are not going to induce me to adopt a fringe. That would be quite the last come-down to my pride. I have not got wavy, fuzzy hair like you, Hetty, and I am not beautiful, so nothing can make me look it.”

“But your face is very beautiful to me,” said Hetty, looking at me with a great glow of love beaming over hers. “It is full of strength, and I think you have such a sweet expression, Rose, and you look so dignified. Sometimes I think you are grand.”

“Oh, hush, hush, you foolish child!” I said.

“Well, but do fasten that little pink bow at your throat, and do puff up your hair a little, to show your nice forehead. Now isn’t that a great improvement?”

She made me kneel by her while she tried to manipulate my heavy, thick, straight hair. My private opinion is that I never looked more uncouth, but Hetty was pleased, so where was the use of worrying her?

I heard a carriage stop in the street below, and flew to the window to look out.

“They arrive,” I said, “my foes arrive! Now I go forth to conquer! Farewell, Hetty.”

“Oh, I shall be so excited to know what is going to happen!” called Hetty after me.

I blew a kiss to her and ran down-stairs. I had arranged with Mrs Ashton to give me the use of a private sitting-room for the all-important interview. It was a truly dingy apartment – a back parlour in every sense of that odious-sounding word. It was here I had for the first time the pleasure of seeing Lady Ursula Redmayne without any rose-coloured glamour thrown over her. Unsupported by the background which her luxurious boudoir in Grosvenor Street afforded, she looked what she was, a most ordinary young woman.

Ordinary – yes, – I made up my mind on the spot that Lady Ursula was not at all good-looking. But she was something else. She appeared better, far better in my eyes. At that moment she looked what she was, an every-day, happy, healthy English girl. Yes, a happy girl, and her happiness took all her little affectations away.

“Oh, here you are, my benefactress?” she said, rushing up and kissing me. “May I introduce Captain Valentine? I don’t think I did it properly yesterday. Now, Rupert, let’s sit one at each side of her, and tell her everything, and get her to tell us everything.”

I was very much astonished, and I showed my astonishment in my face.

“Would you not rather speak to Miss Lindley alone, Ursula?” said Captain Valentine. “I can go out for a walk, or to – to buy something – I might return in a quarter of an hour.”

“No, Rupert, you will sit on that chair, just there, please, and listen.”

Captain Valentine sat down at the imperious bidding of Lady Ursula’s voice. I was sure he must have a sensitive nature, he got red so often. His whole face was scarlet now.

“Now I will begin,” said Lady Ursula. She turned towards me. “You know, Rosamund, you treated me very badly yesterday – very badly, and very shabbily, and very cruelly. Oh, my dear, I’m not going to reproach you now – it all turned out for the best, as the good little books say. Listen, Rosamund, please, to my story. After you left us yesterday, I told Rupert that I was distracted, that something had happened which I could not possibly tell him, but that I must instantly go to my dressmaker, and that it would be best for me to go alone. ‘By no means,’ answered Rupert, ‘I will accompany you.’ ‘Oh, don’t,’ I said. ‘I am determined,’ he replied. So the carriage was ordered, and we drove to Madame Leroy’s together. When I got there, I said, ‘I shall be some little time engaged.’ ‘Very well,’ Rupert answered, ‘I will wait for you in the carriage.’ ‘Oh, don’t,’ I said again. But he shook his head.

“I saw Madame Leroy, and got your home address from her, Rosamund. I wanted to follow you home, and I wanted Rupert not to come. He did not mind me; he would come. We took the train, and reached your pretty cottage in the country. We were shown into the drawing-room, and presently your mother came into the room. The moment I saw her I burst out crying. Somehow her face made me feel that I was the most miserable girl in the world, and that I was just about to lose everything, and that Rupert never, never had been half so dear to me. Your mother behaved perfectly to me; she took me out of the room, and said nice, kind, comforting sort of words, and soon I stopped crying, and told her that I wanted to see you, and she gave me your present address, and said she would send you a telegram. She was very sorry for me, but she wasn’t curious; she was too much of a lady to be curious, only she was just so sweet that the mere fact of my being in trouble made her kind to me.

“Rupert and I came away. We went back again to Grosvenor Street, and I felt more sure than ever that all must be up between us. I could not help it, Rosamund – when I got into the house I began to cry again. Then Rupert spoke – oh, dear, I can’t tell you how – but somehow I suddenly lost all my terror, and I told him the whole story from the beginning. You dreadful, but dear little benefactress, I took your advice. And what was the consequence? Rupert did just say one word of reproof. He said, ‘Don’t you suppose, Ursula, that I care more for you than for a ruby ring?’ So, of course, after that it was all right, and I have never, never been half so happy before in all my life.”

Captain Valentine, who had fidgeted on his chair, and seemed more or less on thorns during the recital of Lady Ursula’s story, now jumped up, and went over to the window to look out. He had only a view of Mrs Ashton’s back-yard, and surely the sight could not have been inspiriting. Lady Ursula, whose eyes were full of tears, bent forward to kiss me. I put my two arms around her neck and gave her a hug. I could not help it. I forgot all about her title and her grandeur – she was just a girl, like any other girl, to me at that moment.

“Now I have something to say,” she continued in a changed voice. “Neither Rupert nor I want your ruby ring, but we are very curious to see it again, for Rupert has a story to tell you about it.”

“A story to tell me about my own ring,” I inquired.

“Well, yes,” said Captain Valentine, returning, and speaking slowly. “It so happened that during the week, when Ursula lived in such terror of me, that she was obliged to hire a ring to prevent my righteous vengeance falling on her head,” – he laughed merrily as he spoke, and Lady Ursula gave his hand a vicious pinch, – “during that week,” he continued, “I noticed that the central ruby of the ring was a little loose. I took it to my jeweller’s to have it more firmly riveted. I therefore had full opportunity of carefully examining your ring, Miss Lindley, and I can declare that it is in every particular precisely similar to the one Lady Ursula has lost.”

“Similar, perhaps, but a different ring,” I retorted.

“Precisely, a different ring, but one of a pair. I think I can tell you some of the early history of your own ring, Miss Lindley.”

“Please, Rosamund, admit that you are very much excited and thrilled with interest,” interrupted Lady Ursula.

“I am interested, undoubtedly,” I replied. “Please tell me the story, Captain Valentine.”

“My great-great-grandmother,” he began at once, “came from the West Indies, and brought with her, amongst much valuable gold, some rubies of great price. Two of the largest and most precious of the rubies were set in rings of very curious workmanship. I believe the rest of the gems, with the exception of a few smaller rubies which were used in perfecting the rings, were sold to meet a financial difficulty in our family. These rings were given by my great-grandmother to her sons, with the request that they should be handed down as heirlooms, and worn as betrothal rings by the girls who should marry their direct descendants. The rings were made in a very unique fashion, and had a certain spring which could open at the back, and contain hair or some other tiny relic. Do you mind fetching your ruby ring and letting me look at it once again, Miss Lindley?”

“I will fetch it of course,” I replied.

I ran off at once, my heart beating fast with wonder and curiosity.

Hetty’s eyes devoured my face when I rushed into our bedroom.

“I am having a delightful time,” I said, “everything is going on splendidly.”

“Oh, do, do tell me?” said Hetty, sitting up on her sofa, and letting her work tumble to the ground.

“Yes, presently I will; but my visitors have not gone yet.”

“Haven’t they? They are staying a long time.”

“Yes, and they will probably remain a little longer. I have come now to fetch the ring.”

“Oh, Rosamund, you have not given way? You are not going to part with the ring?”

“Not a bit of it,” I answered, as I unlocked my small bag, and taking the ring from its hiding-place slipped it on my finger. “Goodbye for the present, Hetty,” I said; “think of all pleasant and improbable things till I return to you.”

I flew down-stairs to the two who were now my friends. Lady Ursula made me seat myself next to her on the sofa, and Captain Valentine, taking the ring from me, turned it round and round in the light. How that central ruby did flash – how blinding and bewildering were the rays which it shot from the depths of its heart. I had an uncomfortable feeling, as if the costly gem was going to mesmerise me.

Suddenly I uttered an exclamation. By some deft movement, done so quickly that I could not follow it, Captain Valentine had touched a spring, and the ring had altered. The massive gold of the setting moved aside like tiny doors; the central ruby shot up a fiercer ray of almost triumph; it revolved slowly from its position, and left the inner mechanism or skeleton of the ring bare to view.

“There,” said Captain Valentine, “behold the most cunning device ever invented for holding a few threads of hair, or any other invaluable treasure. Yes, this ring is the companion one to yours, Ursula. No doubt on the subject, no doubt whatever, for it was my great-grandmother, or her double, who invented this unique little hiding-place in the back of a ring.”

“But this hiding-place, this secret treasure-house contains no hair, no delightful discovery of any kind,” said Lady Ursula.

“That is true; the space is empty,” said Captain Valentine. “Nevertheless, I identify the ring.” He touched the secret spring again. The central ruby seemed to flash a wicked intelligent look into my eyes; the embossed gold doors revolved back into their places; the magnificent middle ruby resumed its position as keeper of the doors, and the little ring looked as it had done before.

Captain Valentine handed the ruby ring back to me.

“You must explain to me the secret of those magical doors,” I said to him. “Where did you touch the spring which set that clever, enchanting little machinery in motion?”

He took the ring again in his hand, and began to explain the cunning little secret to me.

“Do you see that nick in the side of the gold?” he said. “Just at the left of the serpent’s eye. Press it: not too hard. A light touch is sufficient – a heavy one might break the delicate machinery.”

“I see,” I answered, “thank you. No, I won’t disturb my rubies again now. It might break the charm if I got my ring to tell its secrets too often.”

“Rosamund,” said Lady Ursula, suddenly, “it strikes me that you and Rupert must be some kind of relations; that is, if that ring were left to you by a relation.”

“My mother’s cousin left me the ring,” I said.

“Your mother’s cousin?” said Captain Valentine. “Do you mind giving me some particulars? It is interesting to trace relationships; in this case especially so.”

I mentioned Cousin Geoffrey’s name, and then added:

“My mother can tell you all about him. I only saw him once in my whole life; but my mother and I attended his funeral, and afterwards I found he had left me this ring.”

Captain Valentine uttered an exclamation.

“So old Geoffrey Rutherford was your cousin?” he said. “Of course I knew him, – he was also my cousin, – the queerest and the richest old man of my acquaintance.”

“Were you at the funeral?” I asked suddenly.

“No; why do you ask?”

“I thought all the relations were,” I answered, demurely.

Captain Valentine smiled.

“Ah,” he said, “a good many people had expectations from poor old Geoffrey. Who did he leave his wealth to, by the way?”

“I don’t know,” I replied.

“You don’t know? But wasn’t the will read after the funeral?”

“Something was read. I don’t think it was a will; and the only thing given away was my ruby ring.”

“Just like Geoffrey,” exclaimed Captain Valentine. “Then I presume all the wealth of his miserly old life went to endow a hospital.”

“Even though you are a relation, you must not abuse Cousin Geoffrey,” I said. “His wealth has not gone to endow any hospital, but is waiting.”

“Waiting – for whom?”

“For the heir.”

Lady Ursula suddenly broke in. “The longer I know you, Rosamund,” she said, “the more mysterious you grow. Who in the world is the heir? Why is not the wealth divided? Is not that poor relation,” she pointed with a comical finger at Captain Valentine, “to share in any of the spoil?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “You had better go and ask Mr Gray; he will tell you everything.”

Chapter Eleven

A Bear’s Hug

About a fortnight after the events mentioned in the last chapter, my quiet time in the queer little lodgings at Putney came to an end. Jack was declared free from infection, Hetty was quite well again, and with some difficulty we managed to get them both admitted to a Convalescent Home at Broadstairs.

It was quite affecting to see the meeting between Jack and Hetty. Jack’s illness had both improved and refined him. He was always the best-looking of the family, and he really looked quite handsome as he took that little confiding gentle wife of his into his arms and kissed her three or four times. Poor Jack, – he kissed me too with a fervour he had never hitherto shown. He murmured something I could not quite catch about never being able to show sufficient gratitude to me, and then he and Hetty went away.

I saw them off from the railway station. The last glimpse I got of Hetty, she was sitting very close to her husband, and looking into his face. That poor young face of his looked worn and anxious enough, but Hetty knew nothing of the anxiety, and nothing of Jack’s fall from the paths of honour; – to her he was a prince – the first of men.

I sighed as I left the railway station. “Poor Jack!” I said to myself, “the path that lies before him will not be too easy to climb. Fancy having a little wife like Hetty to look after and support, and no means whatever to earn money for either of them. His character and chance of success practically gone. What is to be done with them both after their fortnight at Broadstairs is over?”

I returned home that afternoon to my dear mother. It was mid-winter and bitterly cold. Christmas was come and gone, we were well into January; snow rested on the ground, and as I entered the cottage, I saw by the look of the sky that more was likely to fall.

My mother welcomed me with just that degree of warmth which seemed to me the perfection of greeting. It consisted of very little in the way of embraces, scarcely anything in the shape of endearing words, but the expression in my mother’s eyes told me all I wanted to know. She was very, very happy to have me back again; and as to me, I felt for the time being rested and satisfied. Why not? I was with the human being I loved best on earth.

We had tea together, and then my mother began to speak.

“You saw Jack off, poor fellow?”

“Yes, mother,” I answered; “I saw Jack and Hetty off.”

“Oh, Hetty,” repeated my mother, with the faintest perceptible toss of her head. She had been very good about Hetty at first, but to have her coupled with Jack in this cool and easy manner gave her something of a shock.

“Mother,” I said with enthusiasm, “Jack had no right to marry any girl secretly, but as he did so we cannot be too thankful that he has taken this sweet little creature. She is as good as gold, mother, and as innocent as a little flower, and she thinks Jack perfection.”