Chetwynd Calverley

XXVI. TERESA’S CONFESSION

Alone with the dying Teresa. “Take comfort,” said the good chaplain, regarding her with tenderness and compassion. “Ease your breast by a full confession, and then, if your repentance is sincere, doubt not Heaven’s goodness and mercy. Our blessed Saviour will not desert you.”

On this, Teresa knelt down before him, and, though he strove to raise her, she would not quit the humble posture.

“Prepare yourself for a dreadful relation, reverend sir,” she said, clasping her hands. “I had the best and kindest of husbands, who studied my every wish, and strove in every way to make me happy. I persuaded him I was happy; but I deceived him. The yoke I had put on was unsupportable.

“An evil spirit seemed to have taken possession of my breast. I strove to dismiss the wicked thoughts that assailed me; but they came back again and again, and with greater force than before.

“I had not a fault to find with my husband – he was kindness itself. Yet I sought to get rid of him by poison. It was long before I could make up my mind to the dreadful act; but I was ever brooding upon it.

“At last I obtained the poison, minute doses of which would kill without exciting suspicion. But not till my husband was attacked by some slight illness did I administer the first dose.

“He grew worse. But it seemed only a natural increase of the malady, and the symptoms excited no suspicion whatever in his medical attendant, the progress of the poison being so slow and insidious. Moreover, I was constantly with my victim, and acted as his nurse.”

The good chaplain covered his face with his hands, and a short pause ensued, which was broken by Teresa.

“And now comes the astounding part of my narration,” she said. “I can scarcely credit my own hardness of heart. As I saw this kind and excellent man, who loved me so dearly, gradually wasting away – literally dying by inches – I felt no compunction – none! I counted the days he could live.”

Here there was another pause, and the guilty woman had to summon up resolution before she could proceed.

“To free myself from my marriage fetters was only part of my scheme,” she said. “My greedy spirit would not be content without my husband’s property, and this I felt certain I could secure. He doted upon me. I had obtained his entire confidence. I knew his inmost thoughts. He had quarrelled with his son. I aggravated the dispute, and took care to prevent a reconciliation, which could have been easily effected had I so desired it.

“My ascendancy over my infirm husband was now so great that he acted upon all my suggestions; and by hints cunningly thrown out, I easily induced him to make a will in my favour, persuading him I would carry out his wishes in regard to his son and daughter.”

“Did no suspicion cross him?” inquired the chaplain.

“Not till the last night of his life,” she replied. “But I think it did then. If he suspected me, he never taxed me with my guilt.”

At this moment a sudden change came over her, and she gazed strangely into the vacancy.

“What troubles you?” inquired the chaplain.

“I thought I saw my husband standing there!” she replied, with a shudder.

“‘Tis fancy. Proceed with your confession. You have more to tell?”

“I have,” she replied, with a fearful look. “The dark tragedy was over. Intoxicated by the power and wealth I had acquired, I contrived to stifle remorse. I kept Mildred constantly with me. Her presence seemed to shield me, and I sought to make some amends by befriending Chetwynd.

“But vengeance was pursuing me, though with slow feet. My punishment was accomplished in an unforeseen manner. Hitherto my heart had never known love, and I thought myself proof against the tender passion. But it was not so. I met Lord Courland at the house of Lady Thicknesse in London, and he at once won my affections and offered me his hand.

“Loving him, and thinking to bind him to me, I promised him half the large property I fancied at my disposal. All was arranged, and my destined husband had come down here to see his future abode, when almost at the last moment I discovered that if I married again the whole of the property would go to Mildred.

“This discovery roused all the evil passions in my heart, and I determined to remove her in the same manner I had removed her father.

“Provided with the means of executing my fell purpose, I did not delay it. You were present, reverend sir, when I dropped poison, unperceived, into her wine, and you may remember how soon it took effect?”

“I remember she was suddenly seized with illness after drinking a glass of champagne,” he replied, with a look of horror; “but I little thought the wine had been drugged – nor did any one.”

“She recovered,” pursued the guilty woman; “and all might have been well if I could have resisted the dreadful temptation to which I was subjected. But I yielded.

“Again I contrived to give her poison, and another seizure followed. Doctor Spencer was sent for. The symptoms could not be mistaken; the terrible crime was discovered, and quickly traced to me. The poison being found in my possession, my guilt was established.”

“It may comfort you to learn that Mildred will recover,” observed Mr. Massey. “The medicines given her by Doctor Spencer have produced a wonderful effect. At first I had little hope. But now I have every confidence that her life will be spared.”

“‘Tis well,” she replied. “But my doom is sealed. Doctor Spencer took away the phial containing the poison; but I had enough left for myself.”

“And you have done this desperate deed?” he asked.

“I could not live,” she replied. “I should go mad. But that Mildred will live is the greatest possible consolation to me. If I could see her, and obtain her forgiveness, I think I could die in peace. But I have not strength to go to her.”

“She is here,” said the chaplain.

The dying woman raised her eyes, and beheld Mildred standing before her, wrapped in a loose robe, and supported by Emmeline and Rose Hartley.

Behind them was Chetwynd, who closed the door after him as he came in.

Mildred’s countenance was exceedingly pale; but her eyes were bright, and her looks seemed almost angelic to the despairing Teresa, who crept humbly towards her.

“I do not deserve pardon,” said the penitent woman. “Yet for the sake of Him who died for us, and washed out our sins with His blood, I implore you to forgive me!”

“I do forgive you,” rejoined Mildred. “I have come hither for that purpose. May Heaven have mercy upon you!”

“Since your repentance is sincere, daughter,” said the chaplain, “may your sins be blotted out, and the guilt of your many offences be remitted.”

“Amen!” exclaimed Chetwynd.

“Then farewell!” said Teresa, in a faint voice. “Farewell, Emmeline! farewell, Chetwynd! Think not of me with abhorrence; but, if you can, with pity!”

Without a word more, she sank backwards, and expired.

Chetwynd caught her before she fell, and placed her on a couch.

All those who had witnessed her death had departed, except Mr. Massey, who was still in the room when Lord Courland entered.

On beholding the body, he uttered a frenzied cry, and rushed towards it.

“I would have given five years of my own life to exchange a few words with her ere she breathed her last!” he exclaimed, in a voice of bitterest anguish and self-reproach.

“You loved her, then, deeply, my lord?” said Chetwynd.

“She was the only woman I ever loved,” replied Lord Courland. “Farewell, Teresa!”

Bending down and kissing her brow, he quitted the room with Chetwynd.

XXVII. A MONTH LATER

A month must now be allowed to elapse.

During the interval, the dark clouds that hung over Ouselcroft have dispersed, and the place has once more assumed a pleasant aspect.

Unhappy Teresa will never again trouble those connected with her.

Mildred, we rejoice to say, under the care of Doctor Spencer, has entirely recovered, and looks more beautiful than ever. She is at Brackley with Emmeline, who has quite regained her spirits and good looks, both of which had suffered from her recent anxiety. Rose Hartley is still with them.

Master of Ouselcroft, Chetwynd has already won the hearts of his dependents. He looks somewhat older and much graver, and Norris says he discerns a likeness to his father that he never perceived before.

As to Norris himself, we need scarcely say he still holds the most important post in the household, and will continue to hold it as long as he is able to do so.

Chetwynd has two guests staying with him – Sir Bridgnorth Charlton and Captain Danvers – and they will remain at Ouselcroft till certain contemplated events come off.

Lady Thicknesse is at Brackley with Lady Barfleur, and means to stay there for a short time longer. She has engaged Laura, and is very well satisfied with her. The talkative lady’s-maid suits her exactly. Sir Bridgnorth drives out her ladyship daily in his phaeton, and they then discuss their future plans, but she has not yet seen Charlton, nor will she visit her future residence till she goes there as its mistress. She has every prospect of happiness with Sir Bridgnorth, who really devotes himself to her, and strives to anticipate all her wishes.

Charles Danvers and Mildred pass all their time together. At first, they contented themselves with the gardens of Brackley; but since Mildred has grown stronger, and is able to take equestrian exercise, they have begun to take long rides, and are seldom seen between luncheon and dinner. Captain Danvers considers himself a most fortunate man, and with good reason, for he will have a most lovely bride, and a very large fortune.

But what of Chetwynd? Ought he not to be esteemed fortunate? As far as wealth is concerned, he has far more than he ever dreamed of, and if he weds the heiress of Brackley, he will become one of the richest men in the county. But his chief wealth, in his own esteem, is in the prize he has won, and he looks forward eagerly to the day – now not very far distant, he hopes – when he shall make her his own.

Such is the present state of things at the two houses the inmates of which are constantly together, dining with each other daily, either at Ouselcroft or Brackley; but we shall, perhaps, learn more, by assisting at a confidential talk that took place one afternoon in the butler’s pantry at Ouselcroft, between old Norris and Laura.

“Well, Mr. Norris,” she said, “I am come to see how you are getting on. We are quiet enough just now, but we shall soon have plenty to do.”

“In what way?” asked the butler.

“In the matrimonial line,” replied Laura. “Three weddings will come off very shortly.”

“Are any of them fixed?” inquired Norris.

“Not that I am aware of,” replied the lady’s-maid; “but they cannot be long delayed. All depends upon Lady Thicknesse. When she names the day, the other two are sure to follow suit.”

“Her ladyship, I suppose, has positively accepted Sir Bridgnorth?” asked Norris.

“Positively,” replied Laura; “and a very good choice she has made, according to my notion. For my own part, I should prefer the old baronet to either of the young men.”

“Pooh, pooh! He won’t bear comparison with my young master. Of course, he’s very suitable to a middle-aged dame like Lady Thicknesse.”

“He’s very agreeable, I repeat, and I think my lady uncommonly lucky in securing him. I believe they’ve agreed to spend half the year in town, and the other half in the country. That’ll just suit me.”

“At any rate, they’ll have no lack of money,” said Norris. “But, after all, Lady Thicknesse is nothing like so rich as her niece – to say nothing of Brackley, which must come to the young lady by-and-by.”

“Yes; they’ll have too much,” observed Laura. “I wonder where Mr. Chetwynd and his lady will reside?”

“Why, here – at Ouselcroft – of course,” replied Norris.

“I don’t feel sure of that,” said Laura. “I sometimes fancy they’ll live at Brackley.”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed Norris. “Mr. Chetwynd will never leave his father’s house, now he has got possession of it. I’m certain of that.”

“Then Captain and Mrs. Danvers may as well take up their quarters at Brackley,” said Laura.

“You’re settling all very nicely!” said Norris, with a laugh. “But I don’t know that Lady Barfleur will consent to take them. I should think not. All very well as visitors, but not for a permanence.”

“Well, then, Mrs. Danvers must buy a place,” said Laura. “She’ll have money enough.”

Norris laughed; but, directly afterwards, his countenance changed, and he said, gravely:

“Ah, Laura! we live in a strange world. A month ago, who would have thought things would be in this state? Then we were talking over Mrs. Calverley’s contemplated marriage with Lord Courland. Now she is gone, and other weddings are about to take place.”

“Don’t mention the poor dear lady, Mr. Norris, if you wouldn’t make me cry,” said Laura, taking out her pocket-handkerchief. “She had dreadful faults, no doubt; but she was always very kind to me, and I will say this of her, she was the loveliest creature ever beheld.”

“She contrived to do a great deal of mischief in her time,” observed Norris.

“Granted,” rejoined Laura. “But you ought to feel some sorrow for her, seeing how very handsomely she behaved to you, Mr. Norris. I’m sure I feel very much obliged to her for my fifty pounds, though I wish it had been five thousand, like Lord Courland’s legacy.”

“Yes, that’s a good lumping sum,” observed Norris, “and will console his lordship for her loss.”

“I suppose he has got the money?” remarked Laura.

“Yes; the legacy has already been paid,” replied Norris.

“I thought it had,” said Laura. “But do tell me, Mr. Norris – is it true the poor lady has been seen since her death?”

“Clarissa declares she certainly beheld her the other evening in the dressing-room,” replied the butler.

“Dear me, how dreadful!” exclaimed Laura, “I should be frightened to death. Clarissa saw her in the dressing-room, you say. How was it? Do tell me!”

“Clarissa’s tale is this. She was in the poor lady’s bedchamber the other evening, just as it was growing dusk, when fancying she heard a sound in the dressing-room, she opened the door, which was standing ajar, and then beheld an apparition exactly resembling Mrs. Calverley, and holding a small phial, at which the figure was looking. So scared was Clarissa at the sight, that she could neither cry out nor stir till the apparition turned its head and fixed its eyes upon her. Their expression was so terrible that she rushed back, and fell senseless on the bedchamber floor. This is the account she gives, and most of the women-servants believe it, but I regard it as mere fancy.”

“I believe it, Mr. Norris,” replied Laura, shuddering. “I once saw Mrs. Calverley myself in the dressing-room, in the exact posture you describe her, with a little phial in her hand, containing eau de luce, she said, but I am now sure it was poison. I shall never forget the look she gave me. Depend upon it, Clarissa has seen her spirit.”

“May be so,” observed Norris.

“The poor thing can’t rest, and I don’t wonder at it,” observed Laura. “I suppose these rooms will be shut up, Mr. Norris?”

“Nobody has slept there since the poor lady’s death,” he replied; “but I can’t say about shutting up the rooms.”

“I wouldn’t sleep there for the world,” remarked Laura. “Indeed, after this occurrence, I don’t think I shall ever venture into the dressing-room again. I should always expect to find her there.”

Just then a bell was rung, and Norris instantly prepared to answer the summons.

“My young master wants to see me before he sets out for Brackley,” he said. “Stay where you are for a few minutes. I may have something to tell you.”

When Norris reappeared, he had a very joyful expression of countenance.

“I can tell you something you don’t know, Laura,” he said – “something about Lady Thicknesse.”

“I know what it is. The wedding-day is fixed.”

“Right!”

“When is it to be?” she exclaimed, eagerly.

“This day week,” replied the butler.

“Then her ladyship will get the start of the others,” said Laura.

“I’m not sure of that,” replied Norris, significantly. “I can’t tell you any more now. All I know is, my young master and Captain Danvers have just ridden off to Brackley.”

XXVIII. ALL IS SETTLED

When Chetwynd and Captain Danvers were about half a mile from Brackley Park, they saw Sir Bridgnorth and Lady Thicknesse coming slowly along in the phaeton.

The pair looked so happy, and so completely engrossed by each other, that the two young men scarcely liked to interrupt them. However, Sir Bridgnorth pulled up, and then the others stopped likewise.

After a few words had passed, her ladyship signed to Chetwynd to come close to her, and said, in a low voice:

“I have had some talk with Lady Barfleur this morning, and I think she has consented that your marriage with Emmeline shall take place immediately. Sir Bridgnorth, who was present at the time, lent his aid, and spoke so urgently, that I think he decided the point.”

“I am infinitely indebted to you both,” said Chet-wynd, glancing at Sir Bridgnorth.

“You will find Emmeline in the garden,” said Lady Thicknesse; “and by the time we come back from our drive, I hope all will be satisfactorily settled.”

“This day week, mind! – not later!” added Sir Bridgnorth, leaning towards him. “All is ready for us at Charlton.”

The baronet then moved on, while the others rode off in the opposite direction.

Arrived at Brackley, our friends ascertained that both young ladies were in the garden, and immediately went in quest of them, and found them seated near the bowling-green.

This being the first time we have seen them since their deliverance from Teresa, we are bound to say they were both looking charmingly, and in capital spirits. Mildred’s illness hadn’t left a trace on her fair countenance. On the contrary, she seemed prettier than ever.

No sooner did their lovers appear than they arose, and flew to meet them; and a very lover-like meeting took place.

But the couples then separated, and Chetwynd and Emmeline, whom we shall accompany, moved off to a short distance.

“Emmeline,” said Chetwynd, “I had resolved not to ask you to fulfil your promise to me till I had gone through a year’s probation; nor should I have done so had I not been placed by circumstances in a totally different position from what I was at that time. If you have confidence in my reformation – if you think I have proved myself worthy of you – if you can trust me – I will beg you to abridge my term, and give yourself to me now. But if you have any doubt remaining – if you deem it better to wait till the appointed time – I pray you to do so! Your happiness is my chief concern; and, however irksome the delay may be, I shall not complain!”

“I have entire faith in you, dear Chetwynd,” she replied, in a voice of much emotion. “In every respect you have proved yourself worthy of my love, and I am prepared to give you my hand whenever you claim it.”

“I claim it at once,” he said, eagerly. “And as there is now no obstacle – for Lady Thicknesse tells me your mother has given her consent – I pray that our union may take place on the same day as the marriage of her ladyship with Sir Bridgnorth.”

“Be it so,” said Emmeline; “and I hope another marriage will take place at the same time.”

Just then, the voice of Captain Danvers was heard at a little distance, and he called out:

“Don’t let me interrupt you; but Mildred won’t fix the day till she is satisfied you are agreed.”

“Then tell her we are agreed,” replied Emmeline. “Will this day week suit?”

“It will suit her perfectly,” replied the captain.

“You answer for me!” said Mildred, laughing; “but, though you speak without authority, it is really the day I should choose.”

“I felt certain of it, or I should not have ventured to say so,” observed the captain. “But, since all private arrangements are made, and we are to be wedded at the same time, won’t it be more convenient to talk matters over together?”

“I am quite of that opinion,” said Chetwynd.

No dissentient voice was raised. So they all came together, and began to discuss the general arrangements.

Ere long they were joined by Lady Barfleur, who gave her formal consent to her daughter’s union with Chetwynd, and then took part in the discussion.

It was agreed they should be married in the private chapel belonging to the Hall, and that the Reverend Mr. Massey should perform the ceremony.