The first evening after they were all gone the house seemed another place. Even Jeffreys felt he could breathe, despite Mr Rimbolt’s absence, and the hostile proximity of his lady.
As to Raby and Percy, they made no concealment of the relief they felt, and went off for a row on the river to celebrate the occasion.
Jeffreys judiciously excused himself from accompanying them, and went a long walk by himself.
Two days later, after lunch, just as Percy and Raby had departed for a ride in the park, and Jeffreys had shut himself up in Mr Rimbolt’s study to write, a letter was delivered by the post addressed to Mrs Rimbolt, bearing the Oxford post-mark. It was from Scarfe, and Mrs Rimbolt opened her eyes as she perused it:—
“Christchurch, April 2.”
Dear Mrs Rimbolt,—I reached here from home this morning, and hasten to send you a line to thank you for the very pleasant visit I spent in London last week. I should have written sooner, but that I was anxious to write you on another and less pleasant subject, which I felt should not be done hurriedly. You will, I dare say, blame me for not having told you earlier what I now feel it my duty to tell, and I trust you will understand the feelings which have prevented my doing so. John Jeffreys, who is in Mr Rimbolt’s employment, is, as you know, an old schoolfellow of mine. I was surprised to see him at Wildtree last Christmas, and took the trouble to inquire whether he had come to you with a character, or whether you had any knowledge of his antecedents. I imagined you had not, and supposed that, as he was only engaged as a librarian, inquiries as to his character were not considered necessary. But when I saw that he was being admitted as a member of your household, and specially allowed to exercise an influence on Percy, I assure you I felt uncomfortable, and it has been on my mind ever since to tell you what I feel you ought to know. Jeffreys ran away from school after committing a cruel act which, to all intents and purposes, was murder. His victim was a small boy whom we all loved, and who never did him harm. The details of the whole affair are too horrible to dwell upon here, but I have said enough to show you what sort of person it is who is at present entrusted with the care of your own son, and allowed to associate on a footing of equality with your niece, Miss Atherton. I can assure you it is very painful to me to write this, for I know how it will shock you. But I feel my conscience would not give me peace till I told you all. May I now ask one special favour from you? It is well known, and you probably have noticed it yourself, that Jeffreys and I naturally dislike one another. But I want you to believe that I write this, not because I dislike Jeffreys, but because I like you all, and feel that Percy particularly is in peril. What I ask is that if you think it right to take any action in the matter, my name may not be mentioned. It would be considered an act of spite on my part, which it is not; and perhaps I may mention to you that I have special reasons for wishing that Miss Atherton, at least, should not think worse of me than I deserve. She would certainly misunderstand it if my name were mentioned. I feel I have only done my duty, and I assure you it will be a great relief to me to know that you are rid of one who cannot fail to exercise a fatal influence on the pure and honest mind of my friend Percy.
“Believe me, dear Mrs Rimbolt, most sincerely yours,—
“E. Scarfe.”
The shock which this astounding communication gave to Mrs Rimbolt can be more easily imagined than described. It explained everything—her instinctive dislike of the man from the first, his moroseness and insolence, and the cunning with which he had insinuated himself first into her husband’s and then into Percy’s confidence! How blind she had been not to see it all before! She might have known that he was a villain! Now, however, her duty was clear, and she would be wicked if she delayed to act upon it a moment. If Mr Rimbolt had been at home, it would have fallen on him to discharge it, but he was not, and she must do it for him.
Whereupon this worthy matron girded herself for the fray, and stalked off to the study.