Chetwynd Calverley

XIII. A DANCE ON THE LAWN

Never before bad a dinner so perfect been served at Ouselcroft. But, in the opinion of the distinguished chef, sufficient justice was not done to it. He was very particular in his inquiries of Norris and Higgins, both of whom were in attendance, and discovered that some of his best dishes had been neglected by the guest for whom he had specially prepared them.

This was very vexatious, but Zephyrus endeavoured to console himself by reflecting that Lord Courland was in love, and about to be married, either of which misfortunes, as he termed them, was sufficient to account for his lordship’s want of appetite.

However, the repast was not wasted, but appeared again in the servants’ hall, where quite as large a party sat down to it as had done in the dining-room; and it would seem they were far better judges, since the very recherché dishes that were previously neglected were now completely devoured.

As it happened to be a lovely moonlight night, and very warm, Mrs. Calverley took out the whole of the guests upon the lawn, and they had not been there long when Captain Danvers suggested a dance.

With the drawing-room windows left wide open, it was found that the piano sounded quite loud enough; Lady Thicknesse, who was a very good musician, immediately sat down and played a waltz.

Lord Courland and Teresa, with two other couples, were soon footing it lightly on the smooth turf, and a very agreeable impromptu little dance was got up.

But this was not all. At the instance of Lord Courland, a servants’ dance was got up at the farther end of the lawn, near the two cedars of Lebanon already described.

Notice of the proposed dance was given by Norris, at the very moment when the party in the servants’ hall had finished supper.

Nothing could have been more agreeable to Tom Tankard and Zephyrus than the suggestion. They had heard that dancing was going on in the garden, and if they could not join it, they at least desired to look on; but this proposition completely satisfied them.

The main difficulty seemed in regard to the music; but on inquiry it was found that the footman could play the flute, the coachman the violin, and the groom the banjo, and, provided with those instruments, they proceeded to the lawn. When the band struck up, it was found very efficient, and elicited great applause.

It was decided to commence with a quadrille, and finish with Sir Roger de Coverley.

As may be supposed, Harry Netterville had already secured a partner in Rose, but a contest occurred between Tom Tankard and Zephyrus for the hand of Laura; and the Frenchman proving successful, Tom was obliged to content himself with Clarissa, the rather smart upper housemaid.

Both the portly Mr. Higgins and the still more portly Mr. Tankard took part in the quadrille – the one dancing with the cook, and the other with the second housemaid, Lucy, who was quite as pretty as Clarissa.

Owing to the bright moonlight, the quadrille could be distinctly seen by the party near the house, and afforded them great amusement. Indeed, when Zephyrus danced his cavalier seul, Lord Courland and Teresa came forward to witness the performance. Tom Tankard was likewise stimulated into an extraordinary display by the presence of Mrs. Calverley and the other ladies.

But Sir Roger de Coverley was the real success of the evening. In this cheerful dance, form was set aside. Mrs. Calverley led off with Lord Courland, and danced down the long lines, making Tom Tankard supremely happy by giving him her hand for a moment. She was followed by Emmeline and Chetwynd, after whom came Mildred and Captain Danvers. Sir Bridgnorth induced Lady Thicknesse to walk through a part of the dance with him, but her ladyship retired long before she got to the bottom. The dance seemed interminable, and was not brought to a close till long after the great folks had withdrawn.

Old Norris declared this was the merriest evening he had ever spent at Ouselcroft since Mr. Chetwynd was christened, and he thought the good times were coming again.

Before retiring to her own room, Teresa accompanied Lady Thicknesse to her chamber, and sat with her for five minutes, during which they talked over the events of the evening – her ladyship being of opinion that everything had gone off remarkably well; and that, so far as she could perceive, Lord Courland’s affability and good nature had produced a very good effect upon the establishment.

“I think his idea of a servants’ dance on the lawn was excellent,” she said, “and I am very glad you allowed it. Higgins told me they were all greatly pleased.”

“It was particularly kind in your ladyship to take part in it,” observed Mrs. Calverley.

“Well, I haven’t danced for many a year, but Sir Bridgnorth seemed so anxious, I could not refuse him.”

“I was delighted to see that he had prevailed,” remarked Mrs. Calverley, with a smile. “I think your ladyship will very soon have to consider whether you are inclined to give him your hand altogether. He is certainly very devoted.”

“I have a very great regard for Sir Bridgnorth,” said Lady Thicknesse, “and think him very kind-hearted – ”

“And as it seems to me, exactly suited – ”

“In some respects, perhaps he is,” said Lady Thicknesse. “At all events, I don’t dislike him.”

“And Charlton is really a very fine place,” remarked Teresa:

“So I’m told,” said Lady Thicknesse. “By-the-bye, I didn’t expect to find Sir Bridgnorth here.”

“I owe the pleasure of his company entirely to your ladyship,” said Mrs. Calverley. “Had he not expected to meet you, I am certain he would not have come.”

“You flatter me!” said her ladyship, evidently pleased.

“When I beheld you together on the lawn this evening,” pursued Mrs. Calverley, “and especially when I saw you together in the dance, I was rejoiced that the meeting had taken place, as I knew how it must end. And now, good night, and pleasant dreams!”

Teresa entered her own room in a very lively mood, and continued so as long as Laura stayed with her, and diverted her with her chat.

The lady’s-maid had nothing but what was satisfactory to say of Lord Courland. He had produced a most agreeable impression upon the household, and his good-natured deportment in the dance had carried all the suffrages in his favour.

“Even old Norris is pleased with him,” said Laura; “and if to-morrow goes off as well as to-day, everybody will be enthusiastic. Do you think we shall have another dance, ma’am? Monsieur Zephyrus is so anxious to try the polka with me! I said I’d ask you.”

“We shall see,” replied Mrs. Calverley. “I can’t make any promises. I hope you’re not falling in love with Zephyrus, Laura? I thought he seemed very attentive to you!”

“There was nothing particular about him, I assure you, ma’am,” replied Laura. “It’s his way!”

“But you seemed to encourage him.”

“Well, there’s no choice between him and Tom Tankard, and I can’t bear that forward young man. Would you believe it, ma’am, the vain little fool flatters himself you are struck by his appearance?”

“I think him a most ridiculous object,” said Mrs. Calverley. “But now, before you go, I have an order to give you, and I wish particular attention paid to it. Should Mr. Carteret come to-morrow morning, I wish him to be shown at once to my cabinet.”

“It shall be done, ma’am, depend upon it!” replied Laura, who thereupon withdrew.

XIV. HOW MRS. CALVERLEY PASSED THE NIGHT

Until lately, it had not been Teresa’s custom to fasten her chamber door. But as soon as Laura was gone, she locked it, and the dressing-room door as well.

She then sought for the phial of poison, and placed it on a small table near her bed. Why she did this, she could scarcely tell. Probably she felt that if an impulse of self-destruction assailed her during the night, she would yield to it, and get rid of the ceaseless mental torture she endured.

Though all had gone well since Lord Courland’s arrival, she had been greatly alarmed by some remarks he had made, and had vainly endeavoured to tranquillise herself by thinking that the difficulties and dangers that beset her could be easily overcome.

Now she was left alone, she saw the folly of such reasoning. She felt that her marriage project could only be accomplished by the commission of another crime. Lord Courland had given her several hints that convinced her he would claim the fulfilment of her promise, and how could she fulfil it, if Mildred were not removed?

But the contemplation of this crime awakened such horror in her breast, that sleep fled, and her thoughts drove her almost distracted.

Unable to rest, she arose, wrapped herself in a dressing-gown, and sat down, trying to calm her thoughts. But in vain.

A lamp burning on the table on which the phial was placed, kept that terrible object constantly before her, and seemed to prompt her to have recourse to it.

Being long past midnight, it was to be supposed that all the inmates of the mansion, except herself, were buried in slumber, but the restless woman felt sure she heard footsteps in the gallery outside.

Who could be there at that hour? She was not left long in doubt. A tap was heard at the door, and to her inquiry who was there, a voice answered, “Rose.”

Everything alarmed her now, and even this visit terrified her.

But after a moment’s delay, she opened the door, and saw Rose in a robe de chambre belonging to one of the young ladies, and holding a taper in her hand.

“Pardon me for disturbing you, madam,” she said. “But Miss Calverley has been taken suddenly ill, and is very faint, and Miss Barfleur has sent me to you for some sal-volatile, or some other stimulant, to revive her.”

On hearing this, an infernal idea crossed Teresa.

“Give her three or four drops of eau de luce from this phial,” said Teresa, giving her the poison. “I have just taken that quantity myself, for I have not felt well to-night. Not more than four drops, mind. Be very particular. And when you have given her the dose, bring back the phial to me.”

“Won’t you give it to her yourself, ma’am?” said Rose.

“No; I would rather not leave my room,” replied Teresa. “Lose no time.”

“The spirit of darkness has aided me,” cried Teresa, as Rose departed on her terrible errand. “The deed will now be done.”

Though not many minutes elapsed before Rose returned, it seemed a century to Teresa. She could scarcely restrain herself from going to the room occupied by the victim.

At length, Rose reappeared, bringing the phial with her. Teresa received it with trembling fingers.

“Has she taken the drops?” inquired Teresa, in a scarcely articulate voice.

“She has,” replied Rose. “She was very unwilling to take them, but Miss Barfleur and myself persuaded her.”

“You did right,” observed Teresa. “She will be well before morning.”

“I hope so,” said Rose. “But you look very ill yourself, ma’am.”

“I am ill,” replied Teresa. “But don’t mind me. Go back to Miss Calverley. I hope I shall now get some sleep.”

As soon as Rose was gone, Teresa again locked the door.

Amid the turmoil of thoughts that agitated her, she preserved a sort of calm that enabled her to go through the business she had to do.

Without a moment’s loss of time she unfastened the dressing-box, replaced the bottle of poison, took out another phial resembling it, and really containing eau de luce, and then made all secure again.

This done, she drank a very small portion from the phial, and placed it where the poison had stood. Before seeking her couch she unlocked both her doors, judging it best to manifest no uneasiness.

Did she sleep?

How are we to account for it? She had scarcely laid her head on the pillow, than she fell into a deep, sound slumber, that was not disturbed by a dream, and that lasted till daybreak.

XV. HOW DOCTOR SPENCER WAS SENT FOR

Little did the many guests staying at Ouselcroft imagine what had occurred during the night. They slept on, undisturbed by any idea that a direful deed was being enacted in an adjoining chamber.

Rose’s nocturnal visit to Mrs. Calverley was heard by no one; and, since then, all had been tranquil. Was Mildred better? Was she sleeping? At all events, those with her were quiet.

Thus, when the large establishment arose, at an early hour, for they had an unusually busy day before them, no alarm whatever had been given.

No report was brought down-stairs that Miss Calverley had been taken ill during the night; but the housemaids were bustling about, and getting the rooms ready for the guests, who might be expected to make their appearance some two or three hours later.

Rose had promised Harry Netterville overnight that she would meet him in the garden at six o’clock, and they would have a stroll together; but, though the morning was charming, the young damsel did not make her appearance, greatly to Harry’s disappointment.

Monsieur Zephyrus was more fortunate. Laura had engaged to meet him at the same early hour, and she was true to her appointment.

She must have been up soon after it was light, for she had evidently spent some time over her toilette. Zephyrus was enraptured by her costume and looks, and paid her many high-flown compliments in French, the import of which she understood. Undoubtedly she looked very captivating.

The amorous pair did not remain long on the lawn, though they met there, but sought a retired walk. They had not, however, proceeded far, when they saw another couple advancing towards them, whom they instantly recognised as Tom Tankard and Clarissa.

Salutations were exchanged in the most approved style, praises bestowed on the beauty of the morning, and on the delightful singing of the birds; and they were about to separate, when Laura thought proper to give Tom a friendly caution.

“If you don’t want to meet your father,” she said, “I advise you to keep clear of the lawn. He’s there with Mr. Higgins and our old butler, Mr. Norris.”

“Since that’s the case, we’ll turn back, if you please, Miss Clarissa. My guv’nor’s an odd sort of man, and he don’t like my paying attention to young ladies.”

Clarissa, who was very good-natured, did not mind which way she went, so Laura suggested they should walk together to the fish-ponds, which were about half a mile distant, and they set off in that direction.

Amongst those who were early astir on that fine morning, and who had come forth into the garden, was Chetwynd.

Of course, he know nothing that had happened during the night; but a strange foreboding of ill oppressed him. He found old Tankard and Higgins on the lawn; and, after a brief converse with them, he was proceeding to the stables, when Norris came up and begged to have a word with him, and they went into the library together.

“I am going to ask you a singular question, sir,” said the old butler; “and I will explain my motive for doing so presently. Do you think this marriage with Mrs. Calverley and Lord Courland will really take place?”

“I believe it will, Norris,” replied Chetwynd. “I see nothing to prevent it. I don’t know whether all the preliminary arrangements are settled; but his lordship appears perfectly satisfied. And so he ought to be, if what I hear is true.”

“It will be more advantageous to you than to him,” said Norris.

“I don’t understand you,” rejoined Chetwynd, regarding him fixedly.

“When I say advantageous to you, sir, I mean to your sister,” observed the butler. “But it cannot fail to be beneficial to you. You ought to pray that the marriage may take place, instead of opposing it.”

“What the deuce are you driving at, Norris?”

“It appears to me, sir, that you have never read your father’s will.”

“You are right; I have not. But I know that the property is left entirely to his wife.”

“Very true, sir – very true. But there is a most important proviso, of which you are evidently ignorant. In the event of the widow marrying again, she forfeits the property, which then goes to the testator’s daughter, Mildred.”

“Are you sure of this, Norris?” cried Chetwynd, astounded.

“Quite sure, sir,” replied the old butler. “I have read the will myself, most carefully. As I have already said, the best thing that can happen to you is that your step-mother should marry again. But will she make this sacrifice? I fear not.”

“Can she be aware of the proviso you have mentioned, Norris?”

“Impossible to say,” rejoined the old butler. “I should think so. She has the will in her possession. I. do not see how it can fail to act as a bar to a second marriage, unless she comes to some arrangement with Miss Mildred.”

“That she will never do,” said Chetwynd. “My sister, I am certain, will never surrender her rights to her.”

“Has the matter been broached to Miss Mildred?” inquired Norris.

“Impossible, or I should have heard of it.”

“Then nothing is left Mrs. Calverley but to break off the match, and that is the point from which I started,” said Norris.

“It is incomprehensible she should have allowed the affair to proceed so far,” said Chetwynd. “I am altogether perplexed. But I will have an early interview with my sister this morning, and hear what she has to say. Something must be done forthwith. She cannot give a tacit assent to the arrangement.”

At this moment Rose Hartley appeared at the open window, and Chetwynd called her in.

“I was looking for you, sir,” said Rose, who appeared very anxious. “I came to tell you Miss Calverley is very ill.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed Chetwynd, surprised and alarmed.

“She was taken ill in the night with a renewal of the attack she experienced the other day at Brackley, but recovered for a time, and obtained some hours’ sleep; but she is worse again this morning.”

“What ails her?” asked Chetwynd.

“I can scarcely describe her illness; but she suffers a great deal of pain. I think she ought to have immediate advice.”

“She shall,” replied Chetwynd. “I should wish to see her myself.”

“Not now, sir; later on.”

“Has Mrs. Calverley seen her?” he asked eagerly.

“No, sir; but she sent her some eau de luce by me.”

“Some eau de luce?”

“Yes, sir. I knocked at her chamber door in the middle of the night, and she gave me a small bottle that was standing by her bedside. Miss Calverley only took a few drops of it.”

“Quite enough, I should think,” muttered Norris.

“Well, don’t give her any more at present,” said Chetwynd.

“I haven’t got any more to give her,” replied Rose. “I took back the phial.”

“Mark that, sir,” observed Norris.

“Why mark it?” inquired Rose.

“Never mind him,” said Chetwynd. “Go back to my sister at once, and remain with her till Doctor Spencer arrives. Don’t give her anything more, and don’t let Mrs. Calverley come near her if you can help it.”

“Mind that!” said Norris, emphatically.

Rose looked at him, but made no remark.

“Tell her I have something to say to her, and must see her this morning; but don’t make her uneasy,” said Chetwynd. “I suppose Miss Barfleur is with her?”

“Yes, you may be sure she won’t leave her, sir,” replied Rose. “Your message shall be delivered to your sister, and your instructions attended to.”

As soon as Rose was gone, Norris could no longer contain himself.

“Here we have it as plain as possible, sir,” he cried. “The sole bar to the marriage is to be removed. Don’t you see it, sir? I do, plainly enough. How else should she fall suddenly ill just at this time?”

“Whatever you may think, Norris; and however difficult you may find it to do so, I insist upon it that you hold your tongue,” said Chetwynd, authoritatively. “If you disobey me, you’ll ever afterwards lose my favour. Now go and send for Doctor Spencer at once, and leave the rest to me.”

“Don’t fear me, sir,” said Norris. “I’ll keep silence as long as you enjoin me.”

And he proceeded to the stables, and sent off a mounted groom for Doctor Spencer.

XVI. CHETWYND MAKES COMMUNICATION TO SIR BRIDGNORTH

Chetwynd was pacing to and fro on the lawn, occupied with painful and distracting thoughts, and scarcely knowing what course to pursue, when he was joined by Sir Bridgnorth Charlton, who saw he was greatly disturbed, and kindly inquired what was the matter.

Chetwynd found it somewhat difficult to explain, as he did not desire for the present to enter into details; but he mentioned that his sister had been taken ill during the night, and was still rather seriously indisposed. This was quite sufficient to account for his anxious looks.

However, Chetwynd desired to consult his friend; and, therefore, said to him:

“I have a communication to make to you, dear Sir Bridgnorth, which I am convinced will give you great surprise, and very likely induce you to take a totally different view of certain matters now before you. My sister and myself have hitherto been completely in the dark in regard to a very important provision of my father’s will.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed the baronet. “I should not have conceived that possible. What is it, pray?”

“From examination of the will, it appears that if Mrs. Calverley marries again, the whole of the property bequeathed her by my father goes to Mildred.”

“Now, indeed, you surprise me!” exclaimed the baronet. “And is it possible this very important proviso has only just been discovered? Such negligence is inconceivable!”

“The proviso cannot, I think, have been known to Mrs. Calverley, or she would not have proceeded so far with her present matrimonial arrangements. But, whether known to her or not, it is the fact. Now comes the important question – does she mean to marry Lord Courland?”

“I have no doubt of it,” replied Sir Bridgnorth. “Unless prevented, she will marry him.”

“Most assuredly, then, she will forfeit her property. Besides, she can make no settlement upon him.”

“Yes; she has property of her own. She can settle that.”

“True; but will that be sufficient?”

“I cannot say,” replied Sir Bridgnorth. “I am not in Lord Courland’s confidence.”

“As yet, I don’t think his lordship has been let into the secret.”

“Nor is it desirable he should be. He must look after his own affairs. It is not your business to prevent the marriage, but to forward it. If Mrs. Calver-ley does not choose to tell her noble suitor how she is circumstanced, that is her own concern. She is a very clever woman, and can take care of herself. I should not have thought her capable of making such a sacrifice as this for any man. But she seems to be really in love with Lord Courland; or, perhaps, she is resolved at whatever cost to make an important match. At any rate, her scheme must not be thwarted.”