Chetwynd Calverley

VIII. BRACKLEY HALL

Captain Danvers lias already been described as a handsome young man of about five-and-twenty, and it may now be added that he was tall, well-made, and had marked features – the manly character of his physiognomy being heightened by his brown moustaches.

A dark velveteen shooting-coat, boots of supple leather, that ascended to the knee, where they were met by a pair of knickerbockers – loose, Dutch-looking trousers – formed his costume, while his brown curling locks were covered by a black felt hat. Such as it was, the dress suited him, and both ladies thought it very becoming.

Captain Danvers was in a cavalry regiment, which was quartered at Madras, and he had recently come home on leave. His father, Sir Gerard Danvers, resided at Offham Court, in Kent, and was thought very wealthy. Unluckily Charles Danvers was not an eldest son.

The party had now entered the park, and were proceeding along a fine avenue leading to the house, which stood right in front of them.

Brackley Hall, which was in admirable preservation considering its great antiquity, dated back to the period of Edward the Fourth, or even earlier.

Constructed almost entirely of timber and plaster, it was remarkable for the singularity of its form. It was only three storeys high, the upper storey projecting far beyond the lower, but the summit of the building was occupied by a lofty gallery, more than a hundred feet in length, that looked externally like a lantern, since it had continuous ranges of windows on every side.

Most curious was the timber-work, the gables and lintels being richly carved, as was the porch. The immense bay windows, which constituted the chief beauty of the house, were framed with heavy transom bars, and exquisitely latticed.

In the court-yard was a chapel, surmounted in olden times by a tall, square tower, but this had been taken down.

The hall was surrounded by a moat, and approached by a wide stone bridge. Another bridge communicated with the gardens, which were extensive, and laid out in a quaint, formal style, with terraces, stone steps, fountains, quincunxes, clipped yew-trees, alleys, and a bowling-green. We must not omit to mention that the old mansion had the reputation of being haunted.

Adjoining the house was a grove of noble elms, wherein a colony of rooks had been settled for centuries.

About half a mile off, at the rear of the mansion, was a small lake, or mere, remarkable for the blackness of its water. But black as was the mere, it abounded with fish, and at certain times of the year was a great resort of wild fowl.

Captain Danvers had sent on his groom to the hall to inform Sir Leycester and Lady Barfleur that Mrs. Calverley was coming on to call on them, and also to explain what had occurred.

Consequently, when the ladies had crossed the bridge and entered the court, they found Sir Leycester and Lady Barfleur, with the fair Emmeline, waiting to receive them, and they had no sooner alighted than they were overwhelmed with expressions of sympathy. Some of the servants who were assembled in the court seemed likewise greatly excited.

Sir Leycester, an old fox-hunter and rather choleric, was excessively wroth, and vowed he would never rest till he had caught the rascals. He had no idea whatever, he said, that the country was infested with such vermin, but catch them he would. Mrs. Calverley endeavoured to dissuade him from his purpose, but in vain. “I only waited to see you, or I should have been off before,” he said. “You’ll excuse me quitting you so abruptly, since I am going on your business.”

“But I’d much rather you didn’t go, Sir Leycester,” said Mrs. Calverley. “I’m afraid the gipsies may offer a desperate resistance.”

“I’m sure they will,” added Mildred.

“No matter; I’ll have them!” rejoined Sir Leycester.

“If you really are going on this gipsy-hunt, my dear uncle, I’ll go with you,” said Captain Danvers.

“No, no; I don’t want you, Charles,” rejoined Sir Leycester. “Remain with the ladies. You must stay till I return, my dear Mrs. Calverley.”

She promised that she would; and, after a word or two with Lady Barfleur, he proceeded to the stables, and ordered a hunter to be saddled immediately. He also told Booth, the coachman, on whom he could place reliance, that he should require him and a couple of grooms to attend him.

While the horses were being saddled, a footman brought a brace of pistols, which Sir Leycester had sent for.

Armed with these, and accompanied by Booth, and one of his own grooms, together with his nephew’s groom, Tom, he set out on the expedition, shaping his course towards the further side of the morass, where he expected to find some traces of the robbers.

IX. LADY BARFLEUR

Lady Barfleur had been a very fine woman in her day, and though her beauty was now somewhat passed, she was still a stately dame, and accorded extremely well with the old mansion of which she was mistress.

The drawing-room, to which she conducted her visitors, was a very splendid apartment, and merits a brief description.

The ceiling was adorned with pendants, and the upper part of the walls was covered with a profusion of plaster ornaments, among which were the arms of Elizabeth and James the First. The dark oak wainscoting was richly carved in arches and pilasters, producing a very fine effect.

The principal feature of the room, however, was the magnificent fireplace. Rising to a great height, it was adorned with pillars and sculptured figures that supported the architrave, above which were emblazoned the arms of the Barfleurs.

The furniture was consistent with the antique character of the room – none of it being of a later date than the early part of the seventeenth century.

As Lady Barfleur moved slowly and somewhat stiffly about this noble apartment, or seated herself in a high-backed chair, carved in oak, black as ebony, she looked as if she belonged to the same date as the furniture; and her hair, having become prematurely grey, aided the illusion.

Not so Emmeline. She was a very charming representative of the young lady of our own period.

An exceedingly pretty brunette, she had splendid black eyes, shaded by long silken lashes, and arched over by finely-pencilled brows, lovely features, ripe red lips, and teeth like pearls – and, as she was very lively, the latter were often displayed.

She was not tall, but her figure was symmetry itself, and Cinderella might have envied her tiny feet. She was about the same age as Mildred, and they were great friends.

At first, the discourse turned chiefly upon the robbery, which Lady Barfleur begged might be fully described to her; but it was soon changed to other topics.

For awhile, Captain Danvers seemed undecided whether to devote himself to the beautiful and wealthy widow or her lovely step-daughter; but at length he began to pay exclusive attention to the former, probably because she gave him most encouragement. Indeed, Mrs. Calverley seemed more favourably inclined towards him than to any other suitor since her husband’s death.

Captain Danvers, it appeared, had only arrived at Brackley a few days previously, and this accounted for his not having met the ladies of Ouselcroft before.

Whether Mildred was altogether pleased by having him carried off in this manner, we will not say. Not the slightest sign of annoyance was manifest. She laughed and chatted gaily with Emmeline; and when that young lady proposed that they should go and look at the gallery, she readily assented, and left Mrs. Calverley in quiet possession of the handsome captain.

X. THE GALLERY

Ascending a beautiful spiral oak staircase, the two young ladies soon reached the gallery, which, it has already been mentioned, was situated at the top of the house.

Like all the other rooms in the old mansion, the gallery was maintained in its original state. At all events, it had undergone no alteration since 1570, as appeared from an inscription above the door.

Exceedingly light and cheerful, as might be expected from the multitude of windows, it seemed of immense size. It had a wooden roof – the rafters being painted; and the panels were covered with tapestry, or hung with family portraits. In the room were several curious old cabinets.

“I am always charmed with this gallery,” exclaimed Mildred, as she gazed around it in admiration. “If I lived here, I should spend all my time in it.”

“You would get tired of it,” rejoined Emmeline. “For my part, I prefer my own little chamber, with its carved oak bedstead, and beautiful bay-window.”

“Yes, your room is very pretty, but not to be compared with this grand gallery.”

“The gallery is too large to be pleasant,” said Emmeline. “Indeed, I rarely come here, unless we have company. But do sit down. I want to have a little private and confidential talk with you.”

“I hope you have some affair of the heart to communicate,” said Mildred, as she sat down on an old-fashioned sofa, covered with Utrecht velvet, and just large enough for two, while Emmeline placed herself beside her, and took her hand.

“You must know, then,” began Miss Barfleur, “that two or three years ago I had a tête-à-tête with a very handsome young man. We were seated on this very sofa. Mamma and several other persons were present, but they were too far off to overhear what passed.”

“That is one advantage of a very large room,” remarked Mildred. “But I am sorry this tête-à-tête occurred so long ago. I hope it has been renewed.

“No; and I fear it never will be renewed,” sighed Emmeline. “But I have not forgotten it.”

“Did it come to a positive proposal?” inquired Mildred.

“Not exactly; but if the gentleman had proposed I am sure I should have accepted him; and I feel I never can love any one else.”

“You think so now. I suppose he is still unmarried?”

“Shortly after the interview I have mentioned, he was engaged to another person; but the engagement was broken off, and he is now free.”

“Have you seen him again lately?”

“Not for a long, long time, Mildred; but I love him still, despite his inconstancy, and I should like to know something about him.”

“Emmeline,” said Mildred, regarding her fixedly, “you are not referring to my brother Chetwynd?”

“To whom else could I refer?” was the reply. Mildred uttered an exclamation of surprise.

“I perfectly remember Chetwynd speaking of you in rapturous terms,” she said, “and telling me he had had a strong flirtation with you in the gallery at Brackley Hall, but I had no idea you were at all serious on the occasion. Oh, what a chance of happiness he has missed! Had he been fortunate enough to possess you, how different would have been his life!”

“I loved him!” said Emmeline, with emotion; “and I don’t believe Teresa Mildmay ever did.”

“I entirely agree with you,” remarked Mildred. “I have listened to your recital with the deepest interest, dearest Emmeline, and I wish I could give you a good account of Chetwynd, but I really cannot. I saw him the other day, but only for a few minutes.”

“At Ouselcroft?” inquired Emmeline, eagerly.

“Yes. He came there quite unexpectedly, and left immediately.”

“I am afraid his hasty departure doesn’t look as if he had made up his quarrel with Mrs. Calverley.”

“Alas! no; and I greatly fear he never will become reconciled to her. Perhaps you are aware he won’t accept anything from her?”

“Yes; and I admire his spirit.”

“Still he is very foolish. He is punishing himself, not her.”

“But he adhered to his word. I shouldn’t like him half so much if he yielded.”

“Then your regard won’t be lessened, for I feel certain he won’t yield.”

“I judged him rightly, you see,” said Emmeline; “and I persuade myself he will triumph in the end. And now, dearest Mildred, before we finish our discourse, will you faithfully promise to let me know when you next see him or hear from him?”

“I won’t delude you, Emmeline. I don’t expect either to see him or hear from him. Sir Bridgnorth Charlton has very kindly undertaken to look after him, but he may not have an opportunity of doing so. Unlike anybody else, Chetwynd seems to shun those who love him or would serve him.”

“I hope he won’t shun me,” said Emmeline.

“Not if he could be made aware that you take an interest in him; but how convey the information? He does not correspond with me, and I don’t even know his address, or what way a letter could reach him.”

“Then I must remain in the same state of uncertainty as ever,” said Emmeline, in a despairing tone. “You give me small comfort, Mildred.”

“I pity you from my heart, dearest Emmeline; but comfort you I cannot.”

For a moment, Emmeline seemed overpowered by emotion. She then found relief in tears, and her head dropped on Mildred’s shoulder.

“Think of him no more – think of him no more!” cried Mildred. “He does not deserve your love, I, his sister, say so.”

Emmeline made no response, but continued to sob.

Neither of them were aware that Lady Barfleur had entered the gallery.

Greatly surprised at what she beheld, her ladyship stood still. Fortunately she did not hear the words uttered by Mildred, so she could only guess at the cause of this sudden outburst of grief.

At length she announced her presence by a slight cough, and Mildred perceived her.

“Calm yourself, dearest girl,” she whispered to Emmeline. “Your mother is here.”

“Here!” exclaimed Emmeline, looking up. “Yes, I see. Can she have heard anything?”

“I think not. But be calm, or you will betray yourself!”

Thereupon they both arose, and Emmeline did her best to repress her emotion, and succeeded in forcing a smile.

“You will scold me, mamma, when you learn that I have been so foolish as to weep at a very pathetic story told me by Mildred,” she said.

“I am glad to find it is nothing serious,” replied Lady Barfleur.

“Have you come to tell us that papa has captured the gipsies?”

“No; he has not yet returned,” replied Lady Barfleur. “I came to let you know that Mrs. Calverly and Captain Danvers have gone to the garden. Perhaps you may like to join them there.”

“Shall we, Mildred?”

“By all means,” was the reply. “I shouldn’t think I had been at Brackley unless I had had a stroll in the delightful old garden.”

“Don’t wait for me; I’ll follow,” said Lady Barfleur.

Glad to escape further questioning, the two delinquents flew down the spiral staircase, and hastened to the garden.

XI. WHAT PASSED IN THE GARDEN

This remark was made by Captain Danvers, as he was seated by the side of the charming widow on a bench near one of the fountains.

“Come and see it, and judge,” she replied. “We shall be at home to-morrow.”

“Give me the greatest pleasure to ride over,” he said. “A country place is charming; but I almost wonder you haven’t got a house in town.”

“I think of taking one,” she replied. “Mildred has never been in town – never resided there, I ought to say. Her papa objected to noise and racket – didn’t care for the parks or the Opera, and disliked large parties. I don’t think he could have stood a season in town. I prefer quietude and the country myself. However, Mildred ought to be considered, and as she wishes to mix a little more with society than she is able to do here, we shall go to London for a time.”

“‘Pon my soul! you’re exceedingly kind,” cried the captain. “Miss Calverley is blessed with a most indulgent mamma – ‘sister,’ I was going to say, but I recollected myself in time.”

“I shall make her as happy as I can, so long as she remains with me,” replied Mrs. Calverley. “When my late husband entrusted his daughter to my care, he knew I should do my duty to her.”

“And your first duty,” he remarked, with a smile, “is to get her well married. That will be easily accomplished, for I hear there are many prétendants. No wonder! – she is a most lovely creature.”

“And will have a very good fortune,” said Mrs. Calverley. “I make no secret that I mean to give her thirty thousand pounds as a marriage portion.” Captain Danvers was astounded. If she was to have such a fortune as this, he began to think he had better turn his attention to the step-daughter. He endeavoured to look indifferent, but Mrs. Calverley perceived that the remark had told, as she intended it to do.

“You are the most generous of your sex, Mrs. Calverley,” he observed. “Few women, circumstanced as you are, would make so great a sacrifice.”

“I don’t consider it a sacrifice, Captain Danvers. I regard it as a duty. I simply represent her father. What he would have done, I shall do.”

“I cannot withhold my admiration of conduct as rare as it is praiseworthy,” said the captain. “I repeat, you deserve infinite credit for your generosity. But Mr. Calverley, I believe, left a son as well as a daughter? What will he say to this magnificent portion?”

“He has no voice in the matter,” replied the lady. “My husband left the entire control of his property to me.”

“A wise man! – a very wise man!” cried the captain.

“Chetwynd Calverley has been very wild and extravagant,” said the widow. “It was necessary, therefore, to tie up the property.”

“Quite necessary! – quite proper!” remarked the captain. “Though I shouldn’t like it myself,” he thought. “Is Chetwynd satisfied with the arrangement, may I ask?”

“Very much the reverse,” she replied. “But that is immaterial.”

“He doesn’t know what is good for him,” said the captain. “None of us do,” he mentally ejaculated.

“Then you approve of the course I am about to pursue, Captain Danvers?”

“Entirely, my dear madam – entirely,” he replied. “I think it most judicious.”

“And now you have asked me a good many questions, let me ask you one in return?” said Mrs. Calverley.

“Delighted to answer any questions you may put to me,” he replied, wondering what she was going to say.

“But don’t answer this, unless you like,” she observed.

“Let me hear it,” he rejoined, fearing something unpleasant was coming.

“How is it that your lovely cousin, Emmeline, has not married? I know she has had several very good offers.”

“‘Pon my honour, I can’t tell. I fancy – but mind its only fancy – she has had some disappointment.”

“I should think that scarcely possible,” observed Mrs. Calverley. “Why, she is an only child, and will be a great heiress!”

“Well, that’s the only solution I can give of the mystery. I know Lord Bollington proposed to her, and I know my uncle would have liked the match to take place, but the young lord was refused.”

“Possibly she has an attachment,” observed Mrs. Calverley, thoughtfully. “If so, it’s a great pity.”

“Here she comes, with Miss Calverley,” said Captain Danvers, as the two young ladies were seen advancing along the terrace.

XII. BRACKLEY MERE

Judging from her lively manner, no one would have dreamed that she nourished a secret attachment. But she kept it carefully locked up in the recesses of her heart, and had no confidante except Mildred.

Captain Danvers rose to meet them, but Mrs. Calverley retained her seat.

“We shall see now how he acts,” she thought.

He did not leave her long in doubt. He immediately began an animated conversation with Mildred, and kept by her side as they walked round the garden, leaving Emmeline to amuse Mrs. Calverley.

No doubt the handsome captain could make himself extremely agreeable if he chose, and he now exerted himself to the utmost, and succeeded.

Having expatiated upon the beauty of the formal old garden they were surveying, and saying how much he preferred it to the landscape style, he turned the discourse to the amusements and gaieties of London, and soon found that Mildred was really anxious to spend a season in town; whereupon he expressed the greatest satisfaction, as he should frequently have an opportunity of meeting her.

By this time Lady Barfleur had made her appearance, and as she could report nothing of Sir Leycester, she suggested a visit to the mere.

“It is a nice shady walk there through the wood,” she said; “and if you have not seen the mere, I think you will be struck by it.”

“Not by its beauty, mamma,” remarked Emmeline, “but rather by its blackness.”

“Well, such blackness as that water boasts is a beauty,” said Captain Danvers. “In my opinion, the mere is well worth seeing.”

“There are all sorts of legends attached to it,” said Emmeline. “Amongst others, there is a superstition, that when anything is about to happen to our house, a great piece of black oak, that has been sunk for ages at the bottom of the lake, floats to the surface.”

“An idle story,” remarked Lady Barfleur.

“You excite my curiosity,” said Mrs. Calverley. “I should like to see this mysterious lake.”

“You must excuse my accompanying you,” said Lady Barfleur. “Captain Danvers will conduct you there.”

“With the greatest pleasure,” said the captain. “I hope you will go too, Miss Calverley?”

“Oh, of course!” she replied.

So they all set off, with the exception of Lady Barfleur, who rarely got beyond the garden.

In a very few minutes, they had plunged into a wood, through which a narrow road led to the mere.

In some places, the path was overarched by trees, and the branches formed a delightful screen on that hot day.

Captain Danvers led the way with Mildred, and the path being only wide enough for two, the others were obliged to follow. As the wood seemed to inspire such a tone, his accents became low and tender.

Suddenly they burst upon the lake in all its sombre grandeur. The water looked intensely black, but when examined, it was found to be perfectly clear. The broad expanse was surrounded by trees, which, in some instances, advanced beyond the bank.

The surface of the mere was unruffled, for not a breath of wind was stirring, and reflected the trees as in a mirror. Occasionally, however, a fish would leap up, and the smooth water was, for a moment, rippled.

But the effect of the scene was not cheerful. An air of gloom brooded over the place, that impressed the beholder with melancholy. Both Mrs. Calverley and Mildred acknowledged the feeling.

At the point where the visitors had approached it, the lake was shallow, and occupied by a large bed of reeds and bullrushes; but, at the opposite extremity, the water was profoundly deep, and supposed, by the common folk, to be unfathomable.

On the left, and not far from where they stood, was a boat-house, and Captain Danvers offered to row them to the further end of the lake, so that they might have an opportunity of completely surveying it.

The proposal was gladly accepted.

Repairing to the shed, they embarked in a large flat-bottomed boat, better adapted for fishing than moving rapidly through the water.