Under False Pretences: A Novel

by Adeline Sergeant

He did not like strong measures. They were disagreeable to him. But they were less disagreeable than the thought of being poor. Hugo made little account of human life and human suffering so long as the suffering did not actually touch himself. He seemed to be born with as little heart as a beast of prey, which strikes when it is angry, or when it wants food, with no remorse and no regret. "A disagreeable necessity," Hugo called his evil deed, but he considered that the law of self-preservation justified him in what he did.

And Brian Luttrell? What reason was it that made him fling prudence to the winds, and follow the Herons to the neighbourhood of a place where he had resolved never to show his face again?

There was one great, overmastering reason—so great that it made him attempt what was well-nigh impossible. His love for Elizabeth Murray had taken full possession of him: he dreamed of her, he worshipped the very ground she trod upon; he would have sacrificed life itself for the chance of a gentle word from her.

Life, but not honour. Much as he loved her, he would have fled to the very ends of the earth if he had known, if he had for one moment suspected, that she was the Miss Murray who owned the landed estate which once went with the house and grounds of Netherglen.

It seemed almost incredible that he should not have had this fact forced from the first upon his knowledge; but such at present was the case. They had remained in Italy for the first three months of his engagement, and, during that time, he had not lived in the Villa Venturi, but simply given his lessons and taken his departure. Sometimes he breakfasted or lunched with the family party, but at such times no business affairs were discussed. And Elizabeth had made it a special request that Mr. Stretton should not be informed of the fact that it was she who furnished money for the expenses of the household. She had taken care that his salary should be as large as she could make it without attracting remark, but she had an impression that Mr. Stretton would rather be paid by Mr. Heron than by her. And, as she wished for silence on the subject of her lately-inherited wealth, and as the Herons were of that peculiarly happy-go-lucky disposition that did not consider the possession of wealth a very important circumstance, Mr. Stretton passed the time of his sojourn in Italy in utter ignorance of the fact that Elizabeth was the provider of villa, gardens, servants, and most of the other luxuries with which the Herons were well supplied. Percival, in his outspoken dislike of the arrangement, would probably have enlightened him if they had been on friendly terms; but Percival showed so decided and unmistakable an aversion to the tutor, that he scarcely spoke to him during his stay, and, indeed, made his visit a short one, chiefly on account of Mr. Stretton's presence.

The change from Italy to Scotland was made at the doctor's suggestion. The children's health flagged a little in the heat, and it was thought better that they should try a more bracing air. When the matter was decided, and Mr. Colquhoun had written to them that Strathleckie was vacant, and would be a convenient house for Miss Murray's purposes in all respects—then, and not till then, was Mr. Stretton informed of the proposed change of residence, and asked whether he would accompany the family to Scotland.

Brian hesitated. He knew well enough the exact locality of the house to which they were going: he had visited it himself in other days. But it was several miles from Netherglen: he would be allowed, he knew, to absent himself from the drawing-room or the dinner-table whenever he chose, he need not come in contact with the people whom he used to know. Besides, he was changed beyond recognition. And probably the two women at Netherglen led so retired a life that neither of them was likely to be encountered—not even at church; for, although the tenants of Netherglen and Strathleckie went to the same town for divine worship on Sunday mornings, yet Mrs. Luttrell and Angela attended the Established Church, while the Herons were certain to go to the Episcopal. And Hugo was away. There was really small chance of his being seen or recognised. He thought that he should be safe. And, while he still hesitated, he looked up and saw that the eyes of Miss Murray were bent upon him with so kindly an inquiry, so gracious a friendliness in their blue depths, that his fears and doubts suddenly took wing, and he thought of nothing but that he should still be with her.

He consented. And then, for the first time, it crossed his mind to wonder whether she was a connection of the Murrays to whom his estate had passed, and from whom he believed that Mr. Heron was renting the Strathleckie house.

He had left England without ascertaining what members of the Murray family were living; and the letter in which Mr. Colquhoun detailed the facts of Elizabeth's existence and circumstances, had reached Geneva after his departure upon the expedition which was supposed to have resulted in his death. He had never heard of the Herons. He imagined Gordon Murray to be still living—probably with a large family and a wife. He knew that they could not live at Netherglen, and he wondered vaguely whether he should meet them in the neighbourhood to which he was going. Murray was such an ordinary name that in itself it told him nothing at all. Elizabeth Murray! Why, there might be a dozen Elizabeth Murrays within twenty miles of Netherglen: there was no reason at all to suppose that this Elizabeth Murray was a connection of the Gordon Murrays who were cousins of his own—no, not of his own: he had forgotten that never more could he claim that relationship for himself. They were cousins of some unknown Brian Luttrell, brought up under a false name in a small Italian village. What had become of that true Brian, whom he had refused to meet at San Stefano? And had Father Cristoforo succeeded in finding the woman whom he sought, and supplying the missing links in the evidence? In that case, the Murrays would soon hear of the claimant to their estate, and there would be a law-suit. Brian began to feel interested in the matter again. He had lost all care for it in the period following upon his illness. He now foresaw, with something almost like pleasure, that he could easily obtain information about the Murrays if he went with the Herons to Strathleckie. And he should certainly take the first opportunity of making inquiries. Even if he himself were no Luttrell, there was no reason why he should not take the deepest interest in the Luttrells of Netherglen. He wanted particularly to know whether the Italian claimant had come forward.

He was perfectly ignorant of the fact of which Father Cristoforo's letter would have informed him, that this possible Italian claimant was no other than his friend, Dino Vasari.