CHAPTER VIII. MISS AYNTON'S THUMB IS TURNED BACK.
I SUPPOSE, Mary, that I shall be sure of getting a letter from Mr Arthur today?” observed my Lady to her maid, as that confidential domestic was proceeding with the duties—which were by no means mysteries—of her toilet, upon the morning after the picnic at Belcomb. He is certain to reply concerning a matter which was important enough to cause the use of the telegraph.”
“I suppose so, my Lady: very like.”
Nothing could be more in contrast than the tones in which these two persons had spoken; the question had been earnest, almost fervent, and one which evidently was put in order to evoke an affirmative answer; the reply was given carelessly enough, or rather as though the thoughts of her who uttered it were absent from the matter altogether.
“'Very likely,' Mary! Why, how can it be otherwise? Just run down and open the letter-bag; you know where to find the key.”
“Yes, my Lady.”
As Mary Forest left the room, she cast at her beloved mistress, whose eyes were fixed thoughtfully upon the pattern of the carpet, and observed her not, a look of unspeakable love and pity; and when the door was shut between them, she burst into a passion of silent tears.
“It will kill her,” murmured she; “she can never survive this second trouble. Sorrow and shame, sorrow and shame, are all that fall to my dear mistress now. How shall I tell her? May Heaven give her strength to bear it; but I wish, for her sake, that she was dead, and already the angel she deserves to be——Ah, you minx!” ejaculated Mary, interrupting herself as she passed Miss Aynton's room, and shaking her plump fist at its unconscious tenant; “you'll go to quite another place, and serve you right too.” And seemingly comforted by this reflection, she wiped her eyes with the hem of her apron, and hurried down the back-stairs upon her errand.
“What will Arthur think?” mused my Lady, as she awaited her maid's return with a beating heart. “He will certainly connect the request to destroy that letter with what I said to him at the Watersmeet a while ago, about”—she did not utter the concluding words at all, but only formed them with her lips—“poor Ralph. If Arthur suspects, it will be with him the first step to knowledge; and yet he would never use it to my hurt. If there were anything amiss in the concealment of this matter, then I should fear him, for he is the soul of honour. But my bastard son—God help him, if he ever comes to know it—robs nobody even of this barren title, and my children's money is due to no one else. They might have been paupers as well as bastards; let their mother comfort herself with that thought all she can.” My Lady's lips were crooked into a bitter smile: hers was not a cynical face—far from it—and such an expression misbecame it sadly; it looked more like a contortion of the mouth induced by bodily pain.—“Well, Mary, is there no letter from Mr Arthur?”
“No, ma'am; none.”
“Then there is one more cause for anxiety added to the rest of my troubles, that is all. Ah me, how foolishly I used to fret myself in days when there was no cause! Perhaps he never got the telegraph, and not understanding why the letter came to him, has transmitted it back to—to the person to whom it was addressed.—Mary, you had better presently run over to the Lisgard Arms, and see to that. Steve will give it up, if you explain to him that it is your handwriting. Tell him, if necessary, that I promise him he shall not lose the inn. I must have that letter. Mr Arthur could not possibly know the London address of—of that person, could he?”
“Very likely, my Lady, yes—at least, I don't know.”
“Mary!”
“I beg your pardon, madam,” replied the waiting-maid, starting like one aroused from a dream. “I was not thinking what I said; I was thinking of something else.”
“I think you might give me your attention, Mary,” returned my Lady sighing: “you cannot be thinking of anything so momentous as this matter, which involves sorrow, shame, and perchance utter ruin.”
“Alas! but I can, my Lady,” answered the other gravely; “and I am doing it. There has something happened worse than anything you can guess at. Master Walter”——
“Great Heaven! has any accident happened to my boy? I saw him hut an hour ago; he came into my room, dear fellow, to bid me good-bye before he started for the station. The young horse was in the dog-cart——”
“Mary, Mary, do not—do not tell me that my Walter is killed!”
“He is quite well, my Lady, so far as I know—quite well in health.”
“Thank Heaven for that! Bless you for that, Mary! Why did you frighten me so, if there is nothing the matter?”
“There is something the matter, my Lady. Pray, command yourself; you will have need of all your fortitude. I would never tell it you—burdened as you are already—only you must know it; you, above all, and no one else, if we can help it.”
“More secrets! more deception, Mary! Spare me, if you can, dear friend; I am sorely tried already.”
“I cannot spare you, my Lady, or I would do so, Heaven knows; nay, I would almost take the shame upon my own shoulders, if that might shield you from the sorrow it must needs bring with it. Miss Letty”——
“It is not fit that Shame and my daughter should be mentioned in the same breath,” replied my Lady, rising, and speaking with dignity. “Do not continue; I forbid you to speak. What you were going to say is false, and I will not listen.”
“It is true, my Lady—true as that the sun is shining now. Of course, Miss Letty has nothing to do with it; but it was through her I learned it.”
“Does she know it, then?” asked my Lady sternly.
“Certainly not, madam; and Heaven grant she never may. She's as pure-minded as any seraph, and, like Charity, thinketh no evil. But she told me this afternoon—seeing that you were troubled, and not liking to pain you, perhaps without reason, and speaking to me as her old nurse and friend, who loves all the Lisgards, good and bad (for they are not all good, alas, alas!), and who will love them to the end—she told me that something which she had overheard between Miss Rose and Master Walter”——
“You mean Sir Richard,” interposed my Lady.
“No, madam—his brother. It was Master Walter that I was speaking of the other day in the carriage, and whom I understood your Ladyship to say that Miss Aynton had refused. I knew very well that they were love-making, flirting and such like upon the sly; but I did not know—I could not suspect——- O mistress dear, a terrible disgrace has befallen you, through that infamous young hussy, Miss Rose Aynton—though what Master Walter could have seen in the Jade, I am sure passes my comprehension altogether.”
“Disgrace! Walter! Rose Aynton! What do you mean, woman?” asked my Lady angrily. “You must be mad, to say such things. I heard Sir Richard ask the girl to be his wife with my own ears, and she refused him.”
“Did she, my Lady? Well, I'm surprised at that, for I should have thought she would have stuck at nothing.—But let me tell the whole story. What Miss Letty heard at the picnic was this: she heard Master Walter cursing Miss Rose. That was an odd thing for a young gentleman to do to a young lady—although, for that matter, I have no doubt she deserved it—was it not? Well, that was what Miss Letty thought. She had never heard such words before, and could scarcely force her innocent lips to repeat them; but I made her do it. And certainly Master Walter expressed himself pretty strong. It seems he was angered about the young woman's behaviour to his brother yesterday”——
“Ay,” interrupted my Lady quietly, and still thinking that the prejudice of her waiting-maid had much exaggerated matters, “that was partly my fault; I begged Miss Aynton to be more complaisant in her manner to Sir Richard.”
“Well, Master Walter might have been annoyed, madam, but what right had he to be jealous! and especially what relation could exist between him and Miss Rose, which justified him in using such dreadful words? Fancy swearing at her, my Lady!”
“Yes, that is shocking indeed, Mary. Miss Letty, however, must certainly have misunderstood him.”
“That's what I told her, my Lady, in hopes to quiet her a bit; but I did not believe it myself, no more than you do. We don't suppose that Miss Letty invented the oaths, do we?”
“That is true,” sighed Lady Lisgard. “It makes me very wretched to think that my boy Walter should have so far forgotten himself as to use such language to a young girl—a guest, too, in his mother's house. I shall certainly demand an explanation of it from his own lips.”
“Alas, there is no need, madam,” returned the waiting-maid. “I can tell you all—if you can bear to listen to it.”
“I am listening,” said my Lady wearily; but she sat with her back towards Mistress Forest, and once, in the course of her recital, she uttered a piteous moan, and covered her face with her hands.
“When Miss Letty told me what I have just said, my Lady, and had parted from me a little comforted, trying to persuade herself that she really might have been mistaken in what she had overheard, I instantly sought out Anne Rees, and bade her come with me to my room. You wouldn't have believed it in a girl as you yourself chose out of the village school, and who has been at the Abbey under my own eye for four years; but she refused point-blank: very respectful, I must say, but also very firm. 'I durstn't do it,' said she, all of a twitter—'not till Miss Rose is abed and asleep; or if I do, you may be certain sure as she will come to know it, and get out of me every word that may pass between us two.'
“The girl looked as scared as though she had seen a ghost, and yet my request did not seem to come on her at all unexpected; and, in point of fact, she knew what she was wanted for well enough. However, I thought it best to let her have her way; and so it was arranged that she was to come to my room as soon as she had done with the young ladies—although 'tis little enough, indeed, she has done for Miss Letty of late weeks, but all for that spiteful little hussy, Miss Rose.
“'Now,' said I when I got her alone, 'Anne Rees, there is nobody to listen to what we say, and you may speak to me as to your own mother.'
“'Ah, Mistress Forest,' answered she, beginning to whimper,' I only wish I dared.'
“'This young lady has got you under her thumb, I see, Annie. Now, if you'll tell me the whole truth of what is going on between her and Master Walter, I promise you that I'll turn her thumb back. It will hurt her a little—and that you won't be sorry for, perhaps—and it will set you free.'
“'Oh, Mistress Forest, if you could only do that, I would be a good girl all my life, and never try on other people's clothes again, nor be a spy upon my Lady, and'—— Here she stopped quite short, and looked as though she would have bitten her tongue off.
“'Now, Anne,' said I, 'you must tell me, whether you will or not: for you have gone too far to turn back. How did Miss Rose Aynton make a slave of a well-conducted girl like you—with nothing but vanity, that I know of, to be said against you—and compel you to do all this dirty work for her?'
“Well, Mistress Forest, as you truly say, I was always a vain child; and Heaven has punished me pretty sharp for it. One day, when the young ladies were out, and I was in Miss Aynton's room a-setting it to rights, what should I come upon—where, perhaps, I had no right to look for it, for it was evidently-meant to be hidden—but a queer-shaped leather box with trinkets in it.'
“'A jewel-case, I suppose you mean, Anne.'
“'Yes, ma'am; but they were none of those as Miss Aynton was in the habit of wearing—nor had she that box when she first came: she must have brought it down with her after she went back to London for a week in the early part of the year. However, all as struck me then was the beauty of the jewels; and I thought there was no harm in my just trying them on in the front of the swing mirror. My ears not being pierced, I couldn't fix the earrings, although I wouldn't a-minded a little pain, and they sparkled like morning-dew; but I clasped on the pearl necklace and the bracelets, and stood admiring myself in the looking-glass a good long time. Then all of a sudden I saw an angry face looking over my shoulder, and heard a cruel voice whisper: “Thief, thief!” just like the hiss of a wood-snake. I scarcely recognised Miss Rose, who had always looked so pleasant, and been such a smooth-spoken young lady.
“I could send you to prison, Anne Eees for this,” continued she, very grave and slow; “and I will, too, if you don't do everything I tell you. I hate a thief.”
“Lor, miss,” cried I, “have mercy, for Heaven's sake! I never meant to thieve nothing.”
“And I hate a liar,” added she, looking so cold and cruel that she made me shudder. “You break open my drawer—not a word, you had girl, or I'll send to Dalwynch for a policeman—and I actually find my property on your very person! You ought to go to jail for this; and perhaps I am wrong not to send you there. However, remember; from this moment, you are my servant—only mine; and whatever I tell you to do, whether it is against your late mistress or not, see that you do it; and dare not to breathe one word of anything that I do, or speak, or possess—such as these jewels, for instance—or you will rue it bitterly, Amie Rees.”
“'Of course I promised, Mistress Forest, for I was in such a state of terror that I would have promised anything; but you cannot imagine to what a slavery I bound myself!'
“'I know all about that, Anne.' said I: 'everybody knows you're become a spy and a sneak. But there is no occasion for you to follow such vocations any longer. My Lady would never believe a word of your intending to steal those things: I can promise you her protection; so make your mind quite easy upon that point.—But now, what about Master Walter?'
“'Well, Mistress Forest, the jewels were his present, to begin with. There have been very wicked goings on. It was quite dreadful to see her kiss dear good Miss Letty at night, and return her “God bless you!” so pious like, when she was not blessing her—I mean Miss Rose—at all. Oh, Mistress Forest, I have known all this for weeks and weeks, and dared not speak one word; and now the truth is almost too terrible to tell.'
“And then, my Lady,” pursued Mistress Forest, “she told me things which it is not necessary to repeat to you. 'I knew she was telling truth; but in order to assure myself that it was so, I crept out with naked feet, and listened at Miss Aynton's door, and I heard two voices”——
“Did you recognise them, woman; are you sure of that?” asked my Lady sternly.
“Ah, yes, madam—there is no doubt.”
“Heaven help us, and forgive us!” murmured my Lady, with bowed head. “Ah, Walter, Walter, I had expected Shame, but not from deed of yours! Where is this—Miss Aynton, Mary?”
“At her breakfast, my Lady; and doubtless making an exceedingly good one. She is not one to let her conscience interfere with her appetite, bless you! Like the murderer under sentence in Dalwynch jail, as I read of in the paper yesterday, she 'takes her meals with regularity,' I warrant; and does not in any way physically deteriorate under the distressing circumstances of her situation.”
“Send her to me, Mary—in the boudoir yonder,” said my Lady gravely. “Tell her I desire to speak with her very particularly. Breakfast? No, alas! I feel as though a morsel of food would choke me. Send her hither at once.”