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MR. TURLINGTON,
LADY WINWOOD At Home.
Wednesday, December 15th.--Ten
o'clock. ----------------------------------------------------
"Dearest Natalie--As
the brute insists, the brute
must have
the invitation which I inclose.
Never mind, my child. You and
Launce are coming to dinner,
and I will see that you have
your little private opportunities
of retirement afterward. All
I expect of you in return is,
_not_ to look (when you come
back) as if your husband had
been kissing you. You will certainly
let out the secret of those stolen
kisses, if you don't take care.
At mamma's dinner yesterday,
your color (when you came out
of the conservatory) was a sight
to see. Even your shoulders were
red! They are charming shoulders,
I know, and men take the strangest
fancies sometimes. But, my dear,
suppose you wear a chemisette
next time, if you haven't authority
enough over him to prevent his
doing it again!
"Your affectionate
LOUISA."
The private history of the
days that had passed since the
marriage was written in that
letter. An additional chapter--of
some importance in its bearing
on the future--was contributed
by the progress of events at
Lady Winwood's party.
By previous arrangement with
Natalie, the Graybrookes (invited
to dinner) arrived early. Leaving
her husband and her stepdaughters
to entertain Sir Joseph and Miss
Lavinia, Lady Winwood took Natalie
into her own boudoir, which communicated
by a curtained opening with the
drawing-room.
"My dear, you
are looking positively haggard
this evening. Has anything
happened?"
"I am nearly
worn out, Louisa. The life
I am leading is so unendurable
that, if Launce pressed me, I
believe I should consent to run
away with him when we leave your
house tonight."
"You will do
nothing of the sort, if you
please. Wait till
you are sixteen. I delight in
novelty, but the novelty of appearing
at the Old Bailey is beyond my
ambition. Is the brute coming
to-night?"
"Of course.
He insists on following me
wherever I go. He lunched
at Muswell Hill today. More complaints
of my incomprehensible coldness
to him. Another scolding from
papa. A furious letter from Launce.
If I let Richard kiss my hand
again in his presence, Launce
warns me he will knock him down.
Oh, the meanness and the guiltiness
of the life I am leading now!
I am in the falsest of all false
positions, Louisa, and you encouraged
me to do it. I believe Richard
Turlington suspects us. The last
two times Launce and I tried
to get a minute together at my
aunt's, he contrived to put himself
in our way. There he was, my
dear, with his scowling face,
looking as if he longed to kill
Launce. Can you do anything for
us tonight? Not on my account.
But Launce is so impatient. If
he can't say two words to me
alone this evening, he declares
he will come to Muswell Hill,
and catch me in the garden tomorrow."
"Compose yourself,
my dear; he shall say his two
words to-night."
"How?"
Lady Winwood pointed through
the curtained entrance of the
boudoir to the door of the drawing-room.
Beyond the door was the staircase
landing. And beyond the landing
was a second drawing- room, the
smaller of the two.
"There are only three or four
people coming to dinner," her
ladyship proceeded; "and a few
more in the evening. Being a
small party, the small drawing-room
will do for us. This drawing-room
will not be lighted, and there
will be only my reading-lamp
here in the boudoir. I shall
give the signal for leaving the
dining-room earlier than usual.
Launce will join us before the
evening party begins. The moment
he appears, send him in here--boldly
before your aunt and all of us."
"For what?"
"For your fan.
Leave it there under the sofa-cushion
before
we go down to dinner. You will
sit next to Launce, and you will
give him private instructions
not to find the fan. You will
get impatient--you will go to
find it yourself--and there you
are. Take care of your shoulders,
Mrs. Linzie! I have nothing more
to say."
The guests asked to dinner
began to arrive. Lady Winwood
was recalled to her duties as
mistress of the house.
It was a pleasant little dinner--with
one drawback. It began too late.
The ladies only reached the small
drawing-room at ten minutes to
ten. Launce was only able to
join them as the clock struck.
"Too late!" whispered Natalie. "He
will be here directly."
"Nobody comes punctually to
an evening party," said Launce. "Don't
let us lose a moment. Send me
for your fan."
Natalie opened
her lips to say the necessary
words. Before
she could speak, the servant
announced--"Mr. Turlington."
He came in, with his stiffly-upright
shirt collar and his loosely-fitting
glossy black clothes. He made
his sullen and clumsy bow to
Lady Winwood. And then he did,
what he had done dozens of times
already--he caught Natalie, with
her eyes still bright and her
face still animated (after talking
to Launce)--a striking contrast
to the cold and unimpulsive young
lady whom he was accustomed to
see while Natalie was talking
to _him_.
Lord Winwood's daughters were
persons of some celebrity in
the world of amateur music. Noticing
the look that Turlington cast
at Launce, Lady Winwood whispered
to Miss Lavinia--who instantly
asked the young ladies to sing.
Launce, in obedience to a sign
from Natalie, volunteered to
find the music-books. It is needless
to add that he pitched on the
wrong volume at starting. As
he lifted it from the piano to
take it back to the stand, there
dropped out from between the
leaves a printed letter, looking
like a circular. One of the young
ladies took it up, and ran her
eye over it, with a start.
"The Sacred Concerts!" she
exclaimed.
Her two sisters,
standing by, looked at each
other guiltily: "What
will the Committee say to us?
We entirely forgot the meeting
last month."
"Is there a
meeting this month?"
They all looked anxiously at
the printed letter.
"Yes! The twenty-third of December.
Put it down in your book, Amelia." Amelia,
then and there, put it down among
the engagements for the latter
end of the month. And Natalie's
unacknowledged husband placidly
looked on.
So did the merciless irony
of circumstances make Launce
the innocent means of exposing
his own secret to discovery.
Thanks to his success in laying
his hand on the wrong music-book,
there would now be a meeting--two
good days before the elopement
could take place--between the
lord's daughters and the rector's
wife!
The guests of the evening began
to appear by twos and threes.
The gentlemen below stairs left
the dinner-table, and joined
them.
The small drawing-room
was pleasantly filled, and
no more.
Sir Joseph Graybrooke, taking
Turlington's hand, led him eagerly
to their host. The talk in the
dining-room had turned on finance.
Lord Winwood was not quite satisfied
with some of his foreign investments;
and Sir Joseph's "dear Richard" was
the very man to give him a little
sound advice. The three laid
their heads together in a corner.
Launce (watching them) slyly
pressed Natalie's hand. A renowned "virtuoso" had
arrived, and was thundering on
the piano. The attention of the
guests generally was absorbed
in the performance. A fairer
chance of sending Launce for
the fan could not possibly have
offered itself. While the financial
discussion was still proceeding,
the married lovers were ensconced
together alone in the boudoir.
Lady Winwood (privately observant
of their absence) kept her eye
on the corner, watching Richard
Turlington.
He was talking earnestly--with
his back toward the company.
He neither moved nor looked round.
It came to Lord Winwood's turn
to speak. He preserved the same
position, listening. Sir Joseph
took up the conversation next.
Then his attention wandered--he
knew beforehand what Sir Joseph
would say. His eyes turned anxiously
toward the place in which he
had left Natalie. Lord Winwood
said a word. His head turned
back again toward the corner.
Sir Joseph put an objection.
He glanced once more over his
shoulder--this time at the place
in which Launce had been standing.
The next moment his host recalled
his attention, and made it impossible
for him to continue his scrutiny
of the room. At the same times
two among the evening guests,
bound for another party, approached
to take leave of the lady of
the house. Lady Winwood was obliged
to rise, and attend to them.
They had something to say to
her before they left, and they
said it at terrible length, standing
so as to intercept her view of
the proceedings of the enemy.
When she had got rid of them
at last, she looked--and behold
Lord Winwood and Sir Joseph were
the only occupants of the corner!
Delaying one
moment, to set the "virtuoso" thundering
once more, Lady Winwood slipped
out
of the room and crossed the landing.
At the entrance to the empty
drawing-room she heard Turlington's
voice, low and threatening, in
the boudoir. Jealousy has a Second
Sight of its own. He had looked
in the right place at starting--and,
oh heavens! he had caught them.
Her ladyship's courage was
beyond dispute; but she turned
pale as she approached the entrance
to the boudoir.
There stood Natalie--at once
angry and afraid--between the
man to whom she was ostensibly
engaged, and the man to whom
she was actually married. Turlington's
rugged face expressed a martyrdom
of suppressed fury. Launce--in
the act of offering Natalie her
fan--smiled, with the cool superiority
of a man who knew that he had
won his advantage, and who triumphed
in knowing it.
"I forbid you to take your
fan from that man's hands," said
Turlington, speaking to Natalie,
and pointing to Launce.
"Isn't it rather too soon to
begin 'forbidding'?" asked Lady
Winwood, good-humoredly.
"Exactly what I say!" exclaimed
Launce. "It seems necessary to
remind Mr. Turlington that he
is not married to Natalie yet!"
Those last words were spoken
in a tone which made both the
women tremble inwardly for results.
Lady Winwood took the fan from
Launce with one hand, and took
Natalie's arm with the other.
"There is your fan, my dear," she
said, in her easy off-hand manner. "Why
do you allow these two barbarous
men to keep you here while the
great Bootmann is playing the
Nightmare Sonata in the next
room? Launce! Mr. Turlington!
follow me, and learn to be musical
directly! You have only to shut
your eyes, and you will fancy
you hear four modern German composers
playing, instead of one, and
not the ghost of a melody among
all the four. "She led the way
out with Natalie, and whispered, "Did
he catch you?" Natalie whispered
back, "I heard him in time. He
only caught us looking for the
fan." The two men waited behind
to have two words together alone
in the boudoir.
"This doesn't
end here, Mr. Linzie!"
Launce smiled
satirically. "For
once I agree with you," he answered. "It
doesn't end here, as you say."
Lady Winwood stopped, and looked
back at them from the drawing-
room door. They were keeping
her waiting--they had no choice
but to follow the mistress of
the house.
Arrived in the next room, both
Turlington and Launce resumed
their places among the guests
with the same object in view.
As a necessary result of the
scene in the boudoir, each had
his own special remonstrance
to address to Sir Joseph. Even
here, Launce was beforehand with
Turlington. He was the first
to get possession of Sir Joseph's
private ear. His complaint took
the form of a protest against
Turlington's jealousy, and an
appeal for a reconsideration
of the sentence which excluded
him from Muswell Hill. Watching
them from a distance, Turlington's
suspicious eye detected the appearance
of something unduly confidential
in the colloquy between the two.
Under cover of the company, he
stole behind them and listened.
The great Bootmann
had arrived at that part of
the Nightmare
Sonata in which musical sound,
produced principally with the
left hand, is made to describe,
beyond all possibility of mistake,
the rising of the moon in a country
church-yard and a dance of Vampires
round a maiden's grave. Sir Joseph,
having no chance against the
Vampires in a whisper, was obliged
to raise his voice to make himself
audible in answering and comforting
Launce. "I sincerely sympathize
with you," Turlington heard him
say; "and Natalie feels about
it as I do. But Richard is an
obstacle in our way. We must
look to the consequences, my
dear boy, supposing Richard found
us out." He nodded kindly to
his nephew; and, declining to
pursue the subject, moved away
to another part of the room.
Turlington's jealous distrust,
wrought to the highest pitch
of irritability for weeks past,
instantly associated the words
he had just heard with the words
spoken by Launce in the boudoir,
which had reminded him that he
was not married to Natalie yet.
Was there treachery at work under
the surface? and was the object
to persuade weak Sir Joseph to
reconsider his daughter's contemplated
marriage in a sense favorable
to Launce? Turlington's blind
suspicion overleaped at a bound
all the manifest improbabilities
which forbade such a conclusion
as this. After an instant's consideration
with himself, he decided on keeping
his own counsel, and on putting
Sir Joseph's good faith then
and there to a test which he
could rely on as certain to take
Natalie's father by surprise.
"Graybrooke!"
Sir Joseph started at the sight
of his future son-in-law's face.
"My dear Richard,
you are looking very strangely!
Is the heat of
the room too much for you?"
"Never mind the heat! I have
seen enough to-night to justify
me in insisting that your daughter
and Launcelot Linzie shall meet
no more between this and the
day of my marriage." Sir Joseph
attempted to speak. Turlington
declined to give him the opportunity. "Yes!
yes! your opinion of Linzie isn't
mine, I know. I saw you as thick
as thieves together just now." Sir
Joseph once more attempted to
make himself heard. Wearied by
Turlington's perpetual complaints
of his daughter and his nephew,
he was sufficiently irritated
by this time to have reported
what Launce had actually said
to him if he had been allowed
the chance. But Turlington persisted
in going on. "I cannot prevent
Linzie from being received in
this house, and at your sister's," he
said; "but I can keep him out
of _my_ house in the country,
and to the country let us go.
I propose a change in the arrangements.
Have you any engagement for the
Christmas holidays?"
He paused, and fixed his eyes
attentively on Sir Joseph. Sir
Joseph, looking a little surprised,
replied briefly that he had no
engagement.
"In that case, "resumed Turlington, "I
invite you all to Somersetshire,
and I propose that the marriage
shall take place from my house,
and not from yours. Do you refuse?"
"It is contrary to the usual
course of proceeding in such
cases, Richard," Sir Joseph began.
"Do you refuse?" reiterated
Turlington. "I tell you plainly,
I shall place a construction
of my own upon your motive if
you do."
"No, Richard," said Sir Joseph,
quietly, "I accept."
Turlington drew back a step
in silence. Sir Joseph had turned
the tables on him, and had taken
_him_ by surprise.
"It will upset several plans,
and be strongly objected to by
the ladies," proceeded the old
gentleman. "But if nothing less
will satisfy you, I say, Yes!
I shall have occasion, when we
meet to- morrow at Muswell Hill,
to appeal to your indulgence
under circumstances which may
greatly astonish you. The least
I can do, in the meantime, is
to set an example of friendly
sympathy and forbearance on my
side. No more now, Richard. Hush!
the music!"
It was impossible to make him
explain himself further that
night. Turlington was left to
interpret Sir Joseph's mysterious
communication with such doubtful
aid to success as his own unassisted
ingenuity might afford.
The meeting of the next day
at Muswell Hill had for its object--
as Turlington had already been
informed--the drawing of Natalie's
marriage-settlement. Was the
question of money at the bottom
of Sir Joseph's contemplated
appeal to his indulgence? He
thought of his commercial position.
The depression in the Levant
trade still continued. Never
had his business at any previous
time required such constant attention,
and repaid that attention with
so little profit. The Bills of
Lading had been already used
by the firm, in the ordinary
course of trade, to obtain possession
of the goods. The duplicates
in the hands of Bulpit Brothers
were literally waste paper. Repayment
of the loan of forty thousand
pounds (with interest) was due
in less than a month's time.
There was his commercial position!
Was it possible that money-loving
Sir Joseph had any modification
to propose in the matter of his
daughter's dowry? The bare dread
that it might be so struck him
cold. He quitted the house--and
forgot to wish Natalie goodnight.
Meanwhile,
Launce had left the evening
party before him--and
Launce also found matter for
serious reflection presented
to his mind before he slept that
night. In other words, he found,
on reaching his lodgings, a letter
from his brother marked "private." Had
the inquiry into the secrets
of Turlington's early life--now
prolonged over some weeks--led
to positive results at last?
Launce eagerly opened the letter.
It contained a Report and a Summary.
He passed at once to the Summary,
and read these words:
"If you only
want moral evidence to satisfy
your own mind, your
end is gained. There is, morally,
no doubt that Turlington and
the sea-captain who cast the
foreign sailor overboard to drown
are on e and the same man. Legally,
the matter is beset by difficulties,
Turlington having destroyed all
provable connection between his
present self and his past life.
There is only one chance for
us. A sailor on board the ship
(who was in his master's secrets)
is supposed to be still living
(under his master's protection).
All the black deeds of Turlington's
early life are known to this
man. He can prove the facts,
if we can find him, and make
it worth his while to speak.
Under what alias he is hidden
we do not know. His own name
is Thomas Wildfang. If we are
to make the attempt to find him,
not a moment is to be lost. The
expenses may be serious. Let
me know whether we are to go
on, or whether enough has been
done to attain the end you have
in view."
Enough had
been done--not only to satisfy
Launce, but to produce
the right effect on Sir Joseph's
mind if Sir Joseph proved obdurate
when the secret of the marriage
was revealed. Launce wrote a
line directing the stoppage of
the proceedings at the point
which they had now reached. "Here
is a reason for her not marrying
Turlington," he said to himself,
as he placed the papers under
lock and key. "And if she doesn't
marry Turlington," he added,
with a lover's logic, "why shouldn't
she marry Me?"
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