“Here, Janet,” she said, with an unsteady laugh, “I don’t think I am putting on baby’s things very nicely, but I wanted to try, so nurse let me; but he cries so that he confused my head.” And then she gave him up and went wandering through the rooms, saying a silent good-bye to everything; and last of all she went into her husband’s library.
Ellerton found her there when he summoned her to breakfast. She would come in a minute, she said, quietly; she was only arranging Sir Hugh’s papers as he liked to have them. Yes, she knew the carriage would be round directly; but Ellerton need not fear that she would be late. And then, when the old servant had closed the door, she went up to her husband’s chair, leaning over it and embracing it with her two arms, while she rested her cheek against the carved ebony back. “This is where he will sit this evening,” she said. “Good-bye, God bless you, dear;” and then she left the room.
But she would eat nothing, and only asked for her baby. But just before she got into the carriage she called Mrs. Heron to her, and bade her take care of the aged people at the Pierrepoint almshouses, and see they had their little packets of tea and grocery as usual; and then she shook hands with her and Ellerton.
“Good-bye to you all,” faltered the poor child, hurriedly. “You have been good friends to me, all of you. Good-bye—good-bye;” and then she drew her veil over her face, and leaned back in the carriage, while Nero licked her little ungloved hand.
Sir Hugh had sworn to love and cherish her until death, and yet he had brought her to this.
The journey was a very short one; but nurse afterward remembered that Lady Redmond did not appear surprised, when they arrived at Euston, to find that Sir Hugh was not waiting at the station. “What are we to do, my lady?” she asked, rather helplessly, for she was young and a country woman, and the din and bustle were overwhelming to her; but Fay was helping to identify her luggage, and did not answer. She told nurse to go into the waiting-room with baby, and she would come to her presently. And then she had her luggage put on to a cab.
“Nurse,” she said, quickly, when she came back a few minutes afterward, “will you give me baby a moment, and go to the refreshment-room—it is just a little way down the station. I should like some sandwiches and sponge-cakes, and perhaps you had better get something for yourself, there is plenty of time;” and the woman obeyed her at once. Her lady looked faint, she thought; most likely she was disappointed that Sir Hugh was not there.
As soon as she had left the waiting-room, Fay went up to the person in charge, and asked her to give a sealed note to her nurse when she came back. “You remember her—the young woman with reddish hair who held baby just now; tell her I have gone to look after the luggage, and ask her to read it.” And though the woman thought the request a little strange, she took the sealed packet without demur.
As Fay and Nero went outside the station, the porter who had loaded the cab was standing a little way off, Fay told the cabman hastily to drive off to King’s Cross, as she wanted to take the Scotch express; and as the porter came up to claim his gratuity he found the cab driving off, but Fay flung him a shilling. By a strange fatality the cabman who drove them met with an accident that very day, from the consequences of which he died in two or three weeks’ time; and this one thing checked all clew. When the inquiries were set afloat, the porter certainly remembered the little lady and baby and the big black dog, but he had not heard her instructions to the cabman.
Fay only took her ticket to York; she dared not go straight to her destination. When she arrived there she would not put up at the station hotel, but had herself driven to a quiet little hotel for the night. It was an unpretending place, kept by very honest folk; but Fay found herself very comfortable. She made some excuse about not bringing her nurse, and the chamber-maid helped her undress baby. She was almost too stupefied with grief and fatigue by this time to do anything but sleep helplessly; but she made the girl promise to call her early, and ordered a fly to the station; and when the morning came she got into it without telling any one where she was going, and took the midday train for Edinburgh. It would be impossible to describe the nurse’s feelings when she opened the packet in the waiting-room and read her mistress’s note. “Dear nurse,” it said, “I am really very sorry to treat you so badly, but I can not help it. I have gone away with baby, and I could not take you. Please go back to Singleton by the next train; you will find your box on the platform, and the porter will help you. Sir Hugh will tell you what to do when he arrives this evening.—Your affectionate mistress, F. Redmond.” And inclosed were two months’ wages. In spite of her youth, Fay had excellent business capabilities, only her husband had never found them out.