Thirty Years Since; or, The Ruined Family. A Tale

by Unknown

CHAPTER XXVII.

Lord Ashborough left his niece, Maria Beauchamp, and the chief part of his establishment, in the country; and setting out with but two servants, arrived in the metropolis late on Saturday night. With that attention to decorum and propriety which formed a chief point in his minor policy, he appeared, on the Sunday morning, in the gallery of St. George's Church, Hanover-square, exactly as the organ sounded, and with grave and devout face, passed through the next two hours. But let it not be supposed that the impressive service of the Church of England, read even in its most impressive manner, occupied his thoughts, or that even the eloquence of a Hodgson caught his ear and affected his heart. It was only the flesh-and-blood tenement of Lord Ashborough that was at church; Lord Ashborough himself, in heart and in spirit, was in his library in Grosvenor-square, eagerly conversing with Mr. Peter Tims on the best means of snatching the last spoils of his enemy, Sir Sidney Delaware. Not that Lord Ashborough did not go to church with the full and clear purpose of doing his duty; but people's ideas of doing their duty are so very various, that he thought the going to church quite enough--without attending.

Now, in spite of risking a _longueur_, we must observe, that there are some people, who, although they live in great opposition to the doctrines they hear, nevertheless deserve a certain degree of honor for going to church, because they persevere in doing so, though the two hours they spend there are the most tiresome of their whole lives. Attribute it to resolution, or sense of decency, or what you will, still some honor is their due; but we are sorry to say that no such plea could be set up in favor of Lord Ashborough. The two hours that he spent at church were not tedious; he had the comfortable persuasion that he was doing his duty, and setting a good example; and, at the same time, had a fair opportunity of thinking over all his plans and projects for the ensuing week, without any chance of interruption. Thus, the time he spent within the holy walls, was a time of calm and pleasant reflection, and what profit he derived from it, the rest of his life must show. At all events, there was nothing disagreeable in it. It was a part of the pomp and parade of existence, and he went through it all with a degree of equanimity that took away every kind of merit from the act.

Before he had concluded his breakfast on the Monday morning, a servant announced that Mr. Peter Tims had been shown into the library; and thither Lord Ashborough bent his steps, after he had kept the lawyer waiting long enough to preserve his dignity and show his indifference.

Mr. Peter Tims was seated in the far corner of the library with great humility, and rose instantly on the peer's entrance, bowing to the ground. Now, the fact was--and it may need some explanation--that Mr. Tims found he was growing a great man, in his own estimation, on the wealth he derived from his uncle. He had just discovered that pride was beginning to get above avarice in his heart, and he became afraid. that Lord Ashborough might think he was deviating into too great familiarity, from feeling a strong inclination in his own bosom to do so. Such a consummation was, of course, not desirable on many accounts; and with his usual politic shrewdness, Peter Tims resolved to assume a far greater degree of humility than he really felt, and--while by other means he raised himself slowly in the estimation both of his noble patron and the world in general, suffering his newly-acquired wealth silently to act with its own weight--and determined to affect still a tone of ample subserviency till his objects were fully gained.

In the mean while, Lord Ashborough, who believed that a gulf as wide as that which yawned in the Forum lay between himself and Peter Tims, bespoke the lawyer with condescending civility, bade him take a seat and inquired what news he had brought from Emberton.

Mr. Peter Tims hesitated, and then replied, that the news he brought was bad, in every respect. "In the first place, my lord, I have not been able to stop any of the rents, for they had unfortunately been paid on the day preceding my return to Emberton. In the next place, it would appear that Sir Sidney Delaware has run away as well as his son; for he has certainly disappeared, and, notwithstanding every means I could use, I was not able to discover any trace of him."

He had imagined that Lord Ashborough would have expressed nothing but disappointment at tidings which threatened to make his views upon the Emberton estate more vague and difficult of success; but he was mistaken. The first passion in the peer's breast was revenge. The picture presented to him was Sidney Delaware flying from his country, disgraced, ruined, and blighted in mind and body. Memory strode over three-and-twenty years in an instant, and showed him the same man as he had then appeared--his successful rival triumphing in his disappointment. Placing the portrait of the present and the past together, the peer again tasted the joy of revenge, and mentally ate his enemy's heart in the market-place. For a moment, avarice gave place to revenge; but, after all, avarice is the most durable and permanent of human passions. Like Sinbad's Old Man of the Sea, it gets upon the back of every thing else that invades its own domain, and never leaves them till they die of inanition. Ambition sometimes gorges itself; pride is occasionally brought down; vanity tires, and love grows cold; but avarice, once possessed of the human heart, may be driven into the inmost recesses for a moment, but never quits the citadel, and always, sooner or later, regains the outworks.

"Will this make any difference with regard to our proceedings against the old man and his son?" demanded the peer, after he had given revenge its moment, and had suffered avarice to return.

"Not at all, as respects the son!" answered Mr. Tims; "but I am afraid that, in the father's case, it may occasion some delays. You see, my lord, not knowing where he is, we can not serve him with process. In regard to the son, too, you see, my lord, nothing can be discovered--not the slightest trace. However, I doubt not that we shall be able to fit him with a law that will secure your lordship the reversion. But I am afraid, my lord, I have still worse news in store for you. Grieved I am to be such a croaking raven in your lordship's ears, and thus to--"

"Do me the favor, then, my good sir," said Lord Ashborough, cutting across his figures of speech impatiently, "to make your croaking as brief as possible; and without circumlocution, to tell me what is the matter."

"I would first ask your lordship," said Mr. Tims, who had a great opinion of the foolish plan of breaking bad tidings by degrees--"I would first ask your lordship, if you have lately heard from Mr. Beauchamp?"

"Oh, is that all?" said Lord Ashborough. "I told you before, and I tell you again, Mr. Tims, there is no more chance of her marrying Henry Beauchamp, than there is of my marrying my walking-stick."

"But it is not that, my lord!" cried Mr. Tims. "It is not that at all! I am afraid Mr. Beauchamp is drowned!"

Lord Ashborough started from his chair, pale and aghast, with a complication of painful feelings which Mr. Tims had little thought could be excited by the death of any living thing. But the lawyer made the common mistake of generalizing too broadly. He had fancied that his patron was calmly callous to every thing but what immediately affected himself, and he was mistaken; for it is improbable that there ever was a man whose heart, if we could have traced all its secret chambers and intricate windings, did not somewhere contain a store, however small, of gentle feelings and affections. Lord Ashborough loved his nephew, though probably Henry Beauchamp was the only human being he did sincerely love. In him all the better affections of his heart had centered.

Lord Ashborough had also loved his brother, Beauchamp's father; and, in early life, when the heart is soft, he had done him many a kindness, which--as they were, perhaps, the only truly generous actions of his life--made him love his brother still more, as the object that had excited them. Neither, in the whole course of their lives did there occur one unfortunate point of rivalry between them; and Mr. Beauchamp, or rather Governor Beauchamp, as he was at last generally called, felt so deeply the various acts of friendship which his brother had shown to him, and him alone, in all the world, that he took the best way of expressing hie gratitude, namely, by making Lord Ashborough on all occasions appear to advantage, giving way to his pride, putting the most favorable construction on his actions, and never opposing him in words, however differently he might shape his own conduct. Thus the love of his brother remained unshaken and increasing, till the last day of Governor Beauchamp's life; and at his death it was transferred to his son, rendered indeed more tender, but not decreased, by regret for the father, and by the softening power of memory.

It is sad to think that any less noble feelings should have mingled with these purer affections, even though they might tend to increase the intensity of his affection for Henry Beauchamp. It would be far more grateful to the mind to let this redeeming point stand out resplendent in the character of the peer; but we are telling truth, and it must not be. The shadow, however, perhaps, is a slight one; but it was pride of two kinds that gave the full height to Lord Ashborough's love for Beauchamp. In the first place, to his titles and estates there was no other heir than Henry Beauchamp. There was not even any collateral line of male descent, which could have perpetuated the earldom, if his nephew had been removed. Henry Beauchamp dead, and the peer saw himself the last Lord Ashborough. In him, therefore, had centered all the many vague, and, we might almost call them, _mysterious_, feelings of interest with which we regard the being destined to carry on our race and name into the long futurity. Family pride, then, tended to increase the earl's affection for his nephew; but there was pride also of another kind concerned. Lord Ashborough admired Henry Beauchamp as well as loved him; and, strange to say, admired him, not only for the qualities which they possessed in common, but for the qualities which his nephew possessed, and which he himself did not. They were both good horsemen, and Lord Ashborough had been in his youth, like Henry Beauchamp, skilled in all manly exercises, had been elegant in his manners, and graceful in his person; but light wit, a fertile imagination, a generous disposition, were qualities that the earl had never possessed; and yet he was gratified beyond measure that his nephew did possess them, delighted in the admiration they called upon him, and was proud of the heir to his fortune and his name.

All these facts had been overlooked by Mr. Tims, whose mind, though of the same kind of web as that of his patron, was of a grosser texture; and not a little was he surprised and frightened when he beheld the effect which his abrupt tidings produced upon the earl.

Lord Ashborough turned deadly pale, and, staggering up, rang the bell violently. Mr. Tims would have spoken, but the earl waved his hand for him to be silent: and when the servant appeared, exclaimed, "The drops out of my dressing-room! Quick!"

The man disappeared, but returned in a moment with vial and glass; and pouring out a few drops, Lord Ashborough swallowed them hastily; and then, leaning his head upon his hand, paused for a minute or two, while the servant stood silent beside him, and the lawyer gazed upon him in horror and astonishment. In a short time the peer's color returned; and, giving a nod to the servant, who was evidently not unaccustomed to scenes somewhat similar, he said, "You may go!"

"Now, Mr. Tims," he continued, when the door was once more closed, "what were you telling me? But first, let me say you should be more cautious in making such communications. Do you not know that I am subject to spasms of the heart, which are always brought on by any sudden affection of the mind!"

Mr. Tims apologized, and declared his ignorance, and vowed he would not have done such a thing for the world, _et cetera_; but Lord Ashborough soon stopped him, and demanded, with some impatience, what had given rise to the apprehension he had expressed. The lawyer, then, with circumlocution, if not with delicacy, proceeded to state the rumors that he had heard at Emberton, which had been confirmed to him by Mrs. Wilson, namely, that Mr. Beauchamp's hat had been washed on shore on the sea-side not far from that place. He had found it his duty, he said, to make inquiries, especially as the good landlady had declared that the young gentleman had appeared very melancholy and "out of sorts" on the day he left her. No other part of Mr. Beauchamp's apparel had been found except a glove, which was picked up on the road leading from Emberton to a little fishing village, not far off.

"There is one sad fact, my lord, however," continued the lawyer, "which gives me great apprehension. I, myself, in the course of my inquiries, discovered Mr. Beauchamp's beautiful hunter, Martindale, in the hands of a poor pot-house keeper, in the village about three miles, or not so much, from Emberton. This man and his servants were the last persons who saw your nephew. He came there, it appears, late one evening on horseback, asked they had a good dry stable, put up his horse, saw it properly attended to, and then walked out, looking very grave and disconsolate, the man said. I found that this person knew the horse's name; and, when I asked him how he had learned it, for he did not know Mr. Beauchamp at all, he said that the gentleman, just before he went, had patted the horse's neck, and said, 'My poor Martindale! I must take care of you, however.'"

Lord Ashborough listened with a quivering lip and haggard eye, as Mr. Tims proceeded with his tale. "Have you been at his house?" he demanded, as the other concluded.

"I went there the first thing this morning, my lord," replied Mr. Tims; "but I am very sorry to say, none of his servants know any thing whatever in regard to him. They all say they have been expecting him in town every day for the last week."

Lord Ashborough again rang the bell.--"Order horses to the carriage immediately!" he said, when the servant appeared; "and go on to Marlborough-street with my compliments to Sir George F----, and a request that he would send me an experienced officer, who can go down with me into the country directly. Mr. Tims, I must inquire into this business myself. I leave you here behind to take every measure that is necessary; but, above all things, remember that you have ten thousand pounds to pay into the hands of poor Beauchamp's agents. Do not fail to do it in the course of to-day; and explain to them that the business of the bill was entirely owing to forgetfulness. Let all the expenses be paid, and clear away that business at once. I am almost sorry that it was ever done."

"And about Sir Sidney Delaware, my lord?" said Mr. Tims. "What--"

"Proceed against him instantly!" interrupted the peer, setting his teeth firm, "Proceed against him instantly, by every means, and all means! The same with his son! Leave not a stone unturned to bring him to justice, or punish him for contumacy. If it had not been for those two villains, and their damned intrigues, this would not have happened to poor Henry!"

Thus do men deceive themselves; and thus those things that, would they listen to conscience instead of desire, might become warnings and reproofs, they turn to apologies for committing fresh wrongs, and fuel to feed the fire of their passions into a blaze. The observation may be common-place, but it is true; and let the man who does not do so, call it trite, if he will--no one else has a right.

It was evident that the earl was in no placable mood; and Mr. Tims, though he had much yet to speak of, and many a plan to propose, in order to overcome those legal difficulties to the design he had suggested, which were now springing up rapidly to his mind, yet thought it expedient to put off the discussion of the whole till his noble patron was in a more fitting humor, not a little apprehensive that, if he touched upon the matter at present, the earl's anger might turn upon himself, for discovering obstacles in a path which he had formerly represented as smooth and easy. He therefore contented himself with asking a few more directions; and leaving Lord Ashborough, proceeded straight to Doctors' Commons to make the necessary arrangements concerning his uncle's property. That done, he visited the Stamp-office; his business there being of no small consequence to himself. It was neither more nor less than to cause a paper to be stamped, which he had found among other documents belonging to his uncle, which acknowledged the receipt of the sum of ten thousand pounds from Mr. Tims, of Ryebury, and was signed by Henry Beauchamp.

Considerable difficulties were offered at the Stamp-office to the immediate legalization of this paper; but Mr. Tims was so completely aware of every legal point, and through Lord Ashborough's business, was so well known at the office, that it was at length completed, and he turned his steps toward the house of Messrs. Steelyard and Wilkinson, who had lately become the law-agents of Henry Beauchamp. Before he had gone above half a mile on the road thither, he pulled the check-string of the hackney-coach in which he was seated, and bade the man drive to Clement's Inn. This was immediately done; and Mr. Tims entered his chambers, and retired into its utmost recesses, to pause upon and consider the step that he had just been about to take.

This was no other than to wait upon Messrs. Steelyard and Wilkinson, and tender them Mr. Beauchamp's stamped acknowledgment of the receipt of ten thousand pounds from his uncle, in discharge of the ten thousand pounds which he had been directed to pay by Lord Ashborough, appropriating to himself, as his uncle's heir, the money which was thus left in his hands. The matter was susceptible of various points of view; for, though the law does not recognize the principle of any man helping himself in such a manner, yet we are informed by those who know better than ourselves, that it is very difficult, under many circumstances, to prevent him from doing so. There was one point, however, which greatly incommoded Mr. Tims--namely, that the acknowledgment in Mr. Beauchamp's hand was dated on the very day of the Ryebury murder, and thereby offered a strong presumption, that the money had really been placed in Captain Delaware's chamber by his cousin. Many important consequences might ensue, should Mr. Beauchamp reappear, and declare such to have been the fact; and although Mr. Tims sincerely hoped and trusted that he was at the bottom of the sea, yet, as it might happen that he was not, the lawyer, with laudable precaution sat down to state to himself the results which would take place, in each of the two cases, if he were now to present his acknowledgment.

He found, therefore, that should Mr. Beauchamp never be heard of more, the case would go on against Captain Delaware, the suit in Chancery might proceed against Sir Sidney Delaware, the twenty-five thousand pounds he had got would remain in his hands, and, by presenting the acknowledgment, he would be enabled to retain possession of ten thousand pounds more. All this, therefore, was in favor of acting as he had determined.

On the other hand, if Mr. Beauchamp did reappear--which he did not think likely--he began to suspect that Captain Delaware would be cleared, that the twenty-five thousand pounds would be transferred to Lord Ashborough, that the Emberton estate would be freed from all incumbrance, and that he would undoubtedly lose the twelve thousand pounds which had been stolen from his uncle, as well as Lord Ashborough's favor and business. "The more reason," he thought, "why I should immediately get this money, which undoubtedly did belong to my uncle! But, can I then continue the process against Captain Delaware," he continued, "with such a strong presumption of his innocence in my own hands?"--and he looked at the note, which nearly amounted to positive proof--"But what have I to do with that? It does not absolutely prove his innocence. The coroner's inquest has returned its verdict, and the law must take its course; besides, Henry Beauchamp is at the bottom of the sea, and a jury of fishes sitting on his own body by this time--Pshaw! I will present the acknowledgment to-morrow."

This doughty resolution Mr. Tims accordingly fulfilled, and at noon waited in person on Messrs. Steelyard and Wilkinson. He was shown into the private room of the latter, a seat was placed for him, and his business was asked.

"Why, Mr. Wilkinson," he replied, "I have first to explain to you an uncommonly awkward blunder, which took place by some forgetfulness on the part of my noble friend and client, the Earl of Ashborough, who, not adverting to the arrangements made between us, did not leave assets in my office to pay the bill drawn by you on Mr. Beauchamp's account. Had I been in town myself," he added feeling wealthy, "of course I would have supplied the money; but I, like my noble friend and client, was out of town till yesterday."

"Rather unfortunate, indeed, Mr. Tims!" replied Mr. Wilkinson, dryly, "especially as Mr. Beauchamp drew for the money. His letter was couched in such terms as to permit of our handing over the assets that were in our hands; but we can not tell that he has not been put to great inconvenience. Lord Ashborough's note was of course protested--here it is! I hope you have come to retire it."

"I am directed by my Lord Ashborough to do so," answered the lawyer; "but I rather imagine that Mr. Beauchamp could not be put to much inconvenience; for I find by this document that he has obtained that sum, and four hundred and thirty-two pounds more, from my late unfortunate uncle, to whose property I have taken out letters of administration, and therefore, retaining the ten thousand pounds now in hand, I request you would hand me over the four hundred and thirty-two pounds at your convenience, when I will give you a receipt in full."

"Sir, this is somewhat unprecedented," replied Mr. Wilkinson, "and I think you will find that money can not thus be stopped, _in transit_, without form of law. Such proceedings, if once admitted, would open a door to the most scandalous abuses. You acknowledge that you are commissioned to pay us this money, on account of Lord Ashborough. Having done so, you will have every right to present your claim against Mr. Beauchamp, which will of course, be immediately examined and attended to."

Mr. Tims replied, and Mr. Wilkinson rejoined; but as it is more than probable that the reader may already have heard more than he desires of such a discussion, it will be unnecessary to say more than that Mr. Tims adhered to his first resolution, and carried off the sum he had in hand, leaving Mr. Wilkinson to send down to Lord Ashborough his protested bill, and Beauchamp's note of hand, if he pleased.

In the mean time, that noble lord proceeded, as fast as a light chariot and good horses could carry him, down to Emberton. It was dark, however, ere he arrived; and the first object that met his sight the following morning, as he looked forth from the windows of the inn, was the old mansion, at the end of its wide and solitary park, with the stream flowing calmly on, through the midst of the brown grass and antique trees, and the swans floating upon its bosom in the early light. He had not seen it since he was a mere youth, and the finger of time had written that sad word _decay_ on the whole aspect of the place. To the earl, through whose whole frame the same chilly hand had spread the growing stiffness of age, the sight was awfully sad, of the place where he had spent the most elastic days of life, and it was long ere he could withdraw his eyes, as he paused and contemplated every feature of the scene, and woke a thousand memories that had long slept in the night of the past.

There was a change over all he saw since last he had beheld it--a gloom, a desolation, a darkness; and he felt, too, that there was a change as great in himself. But there was something more in his thoughts; the decay in his own frame was greater, more rapid, more irremediable. The scene might flourish again under some cultivating hand; the mansion, repaired with care, and ornamented with taste, might assume a brighter aspect, but nothing could restore life's freshness or the body's strength to him. Each day that passed must see some farther progress in the downfall of his powers; and few, few brief months and years would behold him in the earth, without leaving a being behind him to carry on his lineage into time, if Henry Beauchamp were, indeed, as his fears anticipated. It was the first time that he had thought in such a sort for long; and most unfortunate was it that there was no voice, either in his own heart, or from without, to point the moral at the moment, and to lead the vague ideas excited, of life, and death, and immortality, to their just conclusion. He thought of death and of his own decay, indeed; but he never thought of using better the life that still remained--for he scarcely knew that he had used the past amiss; and after indulging for some minutes those meditations that will at times have way, he found that they only served to make him melancholy, and turned again to the every-day round of life.

When he was dressed and had breakfasted, he set out for the small village near which Henry Beauchamp's hat had been found. In his way, he stopped also at the house where the hunter had been left, identified the horse, and listened attentively to the replies which the landlord and his servants made to the shrewd questions of an officer he brought with him from London.

The man's tale was very simple, and quite the same that he had given to Mr. Tims. He described Henry Beauchamp very exactly, declared that he had appeared grave and melancholy when he came there, and that he had never heard any thing of him since. The servants told the same story; and Lord Ashborough only acquired an additional degree of gloom, from ascertaining in person the accuracy of the lawyer's report.

"Oh, he is gone!" he thought, as he returned to his carriage, giving way to despair in regard to his nephew. "He is gone! This Sidney Delaware is destined to be the blight of all my hopes and expectations. If it had not been for his vile intrigues to get quit of that annuity, all this never would have happened; but I will make him rue it, should it cost me half my fortune."

It may be asked, whether the earl did never for a moment allow the remembrance, that his own intrigues might have something to do with the business, to cross his mind. Perhaps he did--perhaps, indeed, he could not prevent such thoughts from intruding. But that made him only the more bitter against Sir Sidney Delaware. Have you never remarked a nurse, when a child has fallen down and hurt itself, bid it beat the naughty ground against which it fell? Have you never seen a boy when he has cut his finger, throw the knife out of the window, or even a man curse the instrument that he has used clumsily? It is the first impulse of pampered human nature, to attribute the pangs we suffer to any thing but our own errors, and to revenge the pain, which we have inflicted on ourselves, upon the passive instrument. Lord Ashborough did no more, although, as he rolled on toward the sea-side, he meditated every sort of evil against Sir Sidney Delaware.

No great information could be obtained upon the coast, although Lord Ashborough spent the whole day in fruitless inquiries, and although one of the officers of the coast-guard gave every assistance, with the keen and active intelligence of a sailor.

The only thing elicited, which seemed to bear at all upon the fate of Henry Burrel, was the fact, that one of the sailors, on the look-out about a week before, had heard, or fancied he heard, a man's voice calling loudly for help. So convinced had he been himself of the fact, that, with one of his comrades, he ran down the shore in the direction of the sounds; but he could discover nothing. It was a fine clear moonlight night, he said, so that he must have seen any thing if there had been any thing to see; but the sound only continued a moment, and on not finding any person, he had concluded that it was all the work of fancy.

With these scanty tidings, which, of course, only served to increase his apprehensions, Lord Ashborough was obliged to be satisfied for the time; and, returning to the inn at Emberton, he gave orders for printing placards, and inserting advertisements in the newspapers, each purporting that a large reward would be paid on the discovery of the body of a gentleman, supposed to be drowned, of whom a very accurate description was subjoined. The placards were pasted up all over the country, and Lord Ashborough himself remained two days at Emberton; but there was something in the aspect of the old mansion and the park that was painful to him. When he rose, there it was before his eyes; when he went out, there it stood, grave and gray, apparently in his very path; when he returned, he found it still sad and gloomy at his door. At length, satisfied that he had done all in his power to discover his nephew, he returned to town, leaving the police-officer behind him, with orders to spare neither trouble nor expense to ascertain the facts; and although the earl himself did not choose to appear openly in the business of Captain Delaware, a private hint was conveyed to the officer through his lordship's valet, that, to aid the others who were upon the search, might be very advantageous to himself.