The Duchess of Rosemary Lane: A Novel

by B. L. Farjeon

"No," replied Lizzie, who had listened to the conversation with intense curiosity.

Ned Chester considered in silence, uncertain for a moment how to act. The cigar-case, which had been a gift to his master, Arthur Temple, bore on it an inscription which might betray him, and he thought it not unlikely that Mrs. Lenoir intended to retain it, so that she might compel the fulfilment of his promise. There were obvious reasons why he could not run the risk of making the theft public, for he entertained no doubt that Mrs. Lenoir had robbed him. Since the previous night he had had reason to suspect that his position was growing perilous. His young master's manner had suddenly changed towards him, and he had almost determined not to return to Mr. Temple's house. With this partially-formed resolve in view, he had seen the Duchess a short time before his visit to Mrs. Lenoir, and proposed flight to her. He had taken good care of himself with respect to money, and he had about him between five and six hundred pounds. His scheme was to go to Paris with the Duchess, and thence to America, where he would be safe, and where he believed his peculiar talents might prove of service to him. At all events, with ready money at his command, a few months of enjoyment were before him, and that prospect was sufficiently alluring. But he had found the Duchess strangely reluctant to agree to the flight, and he had to use all the blandishments at his command to prevail upon her. At length she had yielded, on one condition. She would not accompany him alone, nor would she go without the society of one of her own sex. An instinct of affection for Sally had stolen into the Duchess's breast on her lover's sudden and startling proposition, and she suggested that Sally should accompany her in her flight. To this he gave a vehement refusal, and the Duchess fell back on another expedient. In his boastful moments he had told her that he had confided to some of his lady relations the secret of his attachment to a poor girl, and that, charmed with "the romance of the thing," they had promised to assist in reconciling him with his father, should any discovery take place. The Duchess, to his annoyance, remembered this, as she remembered every word he had spoken with reference to himself and his fine friends; and she stipulated that, as he objected to Sally, one of these ladies should accompany her. Seeing no way to the accomplishment of this end, he had argued with her and endeavoured to talk away her resolution. But the more he argued, the more obstinate the Duchess had become, and he was compelled to promise that her whim should be complied with.

"And mind," she said to him before they parted, "your lady friend and I must go away from London by ourselves. You can meet us in the country if you like, but when you come we must be together."

With this understanding they had parted an hour before his visit to Mrs. Lenoir.

As he stood considering these matters in the presence of Mrs. Lenoir, who, uneasy at the turn the conversation had taken, was waiting anxiously for him to speak, a happy idea, as he believed it to be, flashed across his mind. Why should he not come to an understanding with this woman, whose appearance was so lady-like and whose manners were so gentle, and palm her off upon the Duchess as one of his lady friends who had consented to accompany her in her flight? It was not at all likely that the Duchess, supposing Mrs. Lenoir were well and fashionably dressed, would recognise in her the woman whose face she had seen but once, and that but for a moment or two, and in a dim, uncertain light. Once away from England, and free from the fears of detection which were beginning to oppress him, he would experience no difficulty in getting rid of the encumbrance, and pursuing his journey to America with the Duchess alone. His eyes brightened as he looked into Mrs. Lenoir's troubled face, and said, with just a glance at Lizzie:

"I should like to have a few words with you in private."

"Leave us, Lizzie," said Mrs. Lenoir.

With a little toss of her head, indicative of a grudge against the stranger for depriving her of the means of gratifying her curiosity, Lizzie left the room.

"Mrs. Lenoir," said Ned, casting about in his mind for the proper words to use, and quite unconscious that he was the object of a deeper scrutiny than he had bestowed upon the woman before him; "Mrs. Lenoir--by the bye, that is your name?"

"Have you reason to doubt it?" enquired Mrs. Lenoir, with quickened breath.