He established himself in the Red House as if he had been a member of the family, and Harriet frequently surprised him engaged in confidential talk with their hostess, which was immediately stopped on her arrival. She perceived that Miss Wynward had an evident dislike for the new-comer, and never addressed him but in the most formal manner and when it was strictly necessary. The Baroness did not go so often to the manufactory after Mr. Milliken’s arrival, but often shut herself up with him in a room with locked doors, after which Mr. Milliken would be much occupied with secretarial work, writing letters with his short-sighted eyes held close to the paper. He was a source of much curiosity to Harriet Brandt, but he need not have been. He was only that very common and unclean animal—the jackal to Madame Gobelli’s lion.
He was poor and she was rich, so he did all the dirty work which she was unable, or afraid, to do for herself. Mr. Milliken called himself an author and an actor, but he was neither. On account of his accidental likeness to a popular actor, he had once been engaged to play the part of his double at a West-end theatre, but with the waning of the piece, Mr. Milliken’s fame evaporated, and he had never obtained an engagement since. His assumed authorship was built on the same scale. He had occasionally penned anonymous articles for newspapers, which had been inserted without pay, but no one in the literary or any other world knew him by name or by fame. Of late he had attached himself to Madame Gobelli, writing her letters for her (of doing which she was almost incapable), and occasionally dabbling in dirtier work, which she was too cunning to do for herself. Miss Wynward could have told tales of abusive epistles which had been sent through his hand to people, whom the Baroness considered had offended her—of anonymous letters also, which if traced would have landed them both in the County Court. But Mr. Milliken was out at elbows. He found it very convenient to hang about the Red House for weeks together, to the saving of his pocket—receiving douceurs sometimes in actual coin of the realm at the hands of his benefactress, and making himself useful to her in any way in return. Lately, notwithstanding her grand promises to Harriet Brandt of introductions to lords, and princes, the Baroness had thought it would be a very good thing for her favourite jackal if the young heiress took a fancy for him, and gave him full leave in consequence to go in and conquer if he could. She would praise his appearance and his qualities to the girl, before his very face—calling attention to the fact of what a clever creature he was, and what a fine figure he possessed, and how well he was connected, and advising her in her coarse fashion to cultivate his acquaintance better. She even descended to having visions in the broad daylight, and prophesying the future, for them both.
“’Arriet!” she would suddenly exclaim, “I see a man standing be’ind you!”
“O! gracious!” the girl would reply, jumping in her seat, “I wish you would not say such things, Madame!”
“Rubbish! Why shouldn’t I say ’em, if they’re there? Stop a bit! Let me see ’im plainly! ’E’s got dark ’air, slightly sprinkled with grey—a fine nose—deep-set eyes, with bushy eyebrows—no ’air on ’is face—a tall figure, and long ’ands and feet! ’E’s living in this world too! Do you know anybody that answers to the description?”
“No!” replied the girl, though she recognised it at once as being meant for Mr. Milliken.
“Well! if you don’t know ’im now, you will before long, but it’s my belief you’ve met. And mark my words! you and ’e will be closely connected in life! I shouldn’t wonder if ’e turns out to be your future ’usband!”
“O! nonsense!” exclaimed Harriet, trying to speak lightly, “I’m not going to marry anybody, thank you, Madame Gobelli, unless it’s one of the princes you promised to introduce me to.”
“O! princes are all rubbish!” replied the Baroness, forgetting her former assertions, “they’ve none of them got any money, and yours wouldn’t go far enough for ’em. They want a gal with something like five thousand a year at ’er back. I’d rather ’ave an Englishman any day, than a dirty little German prince!”
But Harriet Brandt was not the sort of woman to be forced into an intimacy against her will. Born under an hereditary curse, as she undoubtedly had been, and gifted with the fatal propensity of injuring, rather than benefiting those whom she took a fancy for, she was an epicure in her taste for her fellow creatures, and would not have permitted Mr. Alexander Milliken to take a liberty with her, had he been the last man left upon the earth. She avoided his society as much as it was possible to do, without being rude to her hostess, but as the Baroness was continually calling her to her side, it was difficult to do so. Meanwhile the days went on very differently from what she had anticipated when coming to the Red House. Bobby was languid and indifferent to everything but hanging about the place where she might have located herself—sitting on the sofa beside her, with his heavy head on her shoulder, and his weak arm wound about her waist. Miss Wynward feared he must have contracted some species of malaria at the seaside, and Harriet could see for herself that the lad was much altered from the time when they first met—the Baroness alone, either from ignorance or obstinacy, declaring that nothing ailed him but laziness, and she would give him the stick if he didn’t exert himself more. Sometimes Harriet took him out with her—for a drive into the country, or to a concert or matinée in London, but what was that compared to the entertainment of Royalty and Aristocracy, which she had been promised. And she had not heard a word from Captain Pullen, though her first letter of appeal had been succeeded by two or three more. Such a rebuff would have driven another girl to despondency or tears, but that was not the effect it had on Harriet Brandt. If you throw a bone to a tigress and then try to take it away, she does not weep—she fights for her prey. Harriet Brandt, deprived of the flatteries and attentions of Captain Pullen, did not weep either, but set her pretty teeth together, and determined in her own mind that if she were to give him up she would know the reason why. She was reckless—she did not care what she did to obtain it, but she would learn the truth of his defalcation if she travelled down to Aldershot for the purpose. She was in this mood one day, when the maidservant who answered the door came to tell her that a lady was in the drawing-room, and desired to see her. The Baroness had gone out that afternoon and taken Mr. Milliken with her, so that Harriet was alone. She eagerly demanded the name of her visitor.