The Case of Richard Meynell Part 33

Flaxman thought a moment.

"He is--if I remember right--with yourself, one of the five aggrieved paris.h.i.+oners in the Meynell case?"

"He is. But he is by no means personally hostile to Meynell--quite the contrary. He brought it to me in much distress, thinking it well that we should take counsel upon it, in case other doc.u.ments of the same kind should be going about."

"And you, I imagine, pointed out to him the utter absurdity of the charge, advised him to burn the letter and hold his tongue?"

Barron was silent a moment. Then he said, with slow distinctness:

"I regret I was unable to do anything of the kind." Flaxman turned sharply on the speaker.

"You mean to say you believe there is a word of truth in that preposterous story?"

"I have good reason, unfortunately, to know that it cannot at once be put aside."

Both paused--regarding each other. Then Flaxman said, in a raised accent of wonder:

"You think it possible--_conceivable_--that a man of Mr. Meynell's character--and transparently blameless life--should have not only been guilty of an intrigue of this kind twenty years ago--but should have done nothing since to repair it--should actually have settled down to live in the same village side by side with the lady whom the letter declares to be the mother of his child--without making any attempt to marry her--though perfectly free to do so? Why, my dear sir, was there ever a more ridiculous, a more incredible tale!"

Flaxman sprang to his feet, and with his hands in his pockets, turned upon his visitor, impatient contempt in every feature.

"Wait a moment before you judge," said Barron dryly. "Do you remember a case of sudden death in this village a few weeks ago?--a woman who returned from America to her son John Broad, a labourer living in one of my cottages--and died forty-eight hours after arrival of brain disease?"

Flaxman's brow puckered.

"I remember a report in the _Post_. There was an inquest--and some curious medical evidence?"

Barron nodded a.s.sent.

"By the merest chance, I happened to see that woman the night after she arrived. I went to the cottage to remonstrate on the behaviour of John Broad's boys in my plantation. She was alone in the house, and she came to the door. By the merest chance also, while we stood there, Meynell and Miss Puttenham pa.s.sed in the road outside. The woman--Mrs. Sabin--was terribly excited on seeing them, and she said things which astounded me.

I asked her to explain them, and we talked--alone--for nearly an hour. I admit that she was scarcely responsible, that she died within a few hours of our conversation, of brain disease. But I still do not see--I wish to heaven I did!--any way out of what she told me--when one comes to combine it with--well, with other things. But whether I should finally have decided to make any use of the information I am not sure. But unfortunately"--he pointed to the letter still in Flaxman's hand--"that shows me that other persons--persons unknown to me--are in possession of some, at any rate, of the facts--and therefore that it is now vain to hope that we can stifle the thing altogether."

"You have no idea who wrote the letter?" said Flaxman, holding it up.

"None whatever," was the emphatic reply.

"It is a disguised hand"--mused Flaxman--"but an educated one--more or less. However--we will return presently to the letter. Mrs. Sabin's communication to you was of a nature to confirm the statements contained in it?"

"Mrs. Sabin declared to me that having herself--independently--become aware of certain facts, while she was a servant in Lady Fox-Wilton's employment, that lady--no doubt in order to ensure her silence--took her abroad with herself and her young sister, Miss Alice, to a place in France she had some difficulty in p.r.o.nouncing--it sounded to me like Gren.o.ble; that there Miss Puttenham became the mother of a child, which pa.s.sed thenceforward as the child of Sir Ralph and Lady Fox-Wilton, and received the name of Hester. She herself nursed Miss Puttenham, and no doctor was admitted. When the child was two months old, she accompanied the sisters to a place on the Riviera, where they took a villa. Here Sir Ralph Wilton, who was terribly broken and distressed by the whole thing, joined them, and he made an arrangement with her by which she agreed to go to the States and hold her tongue. She wrote to her people in Upcote--she had been a widow for some years--that she had accepted a nurse's situation in the States, and Sir Ralph saw her off from Genoa for New York. She seems to have married again in the States; and in the course of years to have developed some grievance against the Fox-Wiltons which ultimately determined her to come home. But all this part of her story was so excited and incoherent that I could make nothing of it. Nor does it matter very much to the subject--the real subject--we are discussing."

Flaxman, who was standing in front of the speaker, intently listening, made no immediate reply. His eyes--half absently--considered the man before him. In Barron's aspect and tone there was not only the pompous self-importance of the man possessed of exclusive and sensational information; there were also indications of triumphant trains of reasoning behind that outraged his listener.

"What has all this got to do with Meynell?" said Flaxman abruptly.

Barron cleared his throat.

"There was one occasion"--he said slowly--"and one only, on which the ladies at Gren.o.ble--we will say it was Gren.o.ble--received a visitor. Miss Puttenham was still in her room. A gentleman arrived, and was admitted to see her. Mrs. Sabin was bundled out of the room by Lady Fox-Wilton. But it was a small wooden house, and Mrs. Sabin heard a good deal. Miss Puttenham was crying and talking excitedly. Mrs. Sabin was certain from what, according to her, she could not help overhearing, that the man--"

"Must one go into this back-stairs story?" asked Flaxman, with repulsion.

"As you like," said Barron, impa.s.sively. "I should have thought it was necessary." He paused, looking quietly at his questioner.

Flaxman restrained himself with some difficulty.

"Did the woman have any real opportunity of seeing this visitor?"

"When he went away, he stood outside the house talking to Lady Fox-Wilton. Mrs. Sabin was at the window, behind the lace curtains, with the child in her arms. She watched him for some minutes."

"Well?" said Flaxman sharply.

"She had never seen him before, and she never saw him again, until--such at least was her own story--from the door of her son's cottage, while I was with her, she saw Miss Puttenham--and Meynell--standing in the road outside."

Flaxman took a turn along the room, and paused.

"You admit that she was ill at the time she spoke to you--and in a distracted, incoherent state?"

"Certainly I admit it." Barron drew himself erect, with a slight frown, as though tacitly protesting against certain suggestions in Flaxman's manner and voice. "But now let us look at another line of evidence. You as a newcomer are probably quite unaware of the gossip there has always been in this neighbourhood, ever since Sir Ralph Wilton's death, on the subject of Sir Ralph's will. That will in a special paragraph committed Hester Fox-Wilton to Richard Meynell's guardians.h.i.+p in remarkable terms; no provision whatever was made for the girl under Sir Ralph's will, and it is notorious that he treated her quite differently from his other children. From the moment also of the French journey, Sir Ralph's character and temper appeared to change. I have inquired of a good many persons as to this; of course with absolute discretion. He was a man of narrow Evangelical opinions"--at the word "narrow" Flaxman threw a sudden glance at the speaker--"and of strict veracity. My belief is that his later life was darkened by the falsehood to which he and his wife committed themselves. Finally, let me ask you to look at the young lady herself; at the extraordinary difference between her and her supposed family; at her extraordinary likeness--to the Rector."

Flaxman raised his eyebrows at the last words, his aspect expressing disbelief and disgust even more strongly than before. Barron glanced at him, and then, after a moment, resumed in another manner, loftily explanatory:

"I need not say that personally I find myself mixed up in such a business with the utmost reluctance."

"Naturally," put in Flaxman dryly. "The risks attaching to it are simply gigantic."

"I am aware of it. But as I have already pointed out to you, by some strange means--connected I have no doubt with the woman, Judith Sabin, though I cannot throw any light upon them--the story is no longer in my exclusive possession, and how many people are already aware of it and may be aware of it we cannot tell. I thought it well to come to you in the first instance, because I know that--you have taken some part lately--in Meynell's campaign."

"Ah!" thought Flaxman--"now we've come to it!"

Aloud he said:

"By which I suppose you mean that I am a subscriber to the Reform Fund, and that I have become a personal friend of Meynell's? You are quite right. Both my wife and I greatly like and respect the Rector." He laid stress on the words.

"It was for that very reason--let me repeat--that I came to you. You have influence with Meynell; and I want to persuade you, if I can, to use it."

The speaker paused a moment, looking steadily at Flaxman. "What I venture to suggest is that you should inform him of the stories that are now current. It is surely just that he should be informed. And then--we have to consider the bearings of this report on the unhappy situation in the diocese. How can we prevent its being made use of? It would be impossible. You know what the feeling is--you know what people are. In Meynell's own interest, and in that of the poor lady whose name is involved with his in this scandal, would it not be desirable in every way that he should now quietly withdraw from this parish and from the public contest in which he is engaged? Any excuse would be sufficient--health--overwork--anything. The scandal would then die out of itself. There is not one of us--those on Meynell's side, or those against him--who would not in such a case do his utmost to stamp it out. But--if he persists--both in living here, and in exciting public opinion as he is now doing--the story will certainly come out! Nothing can possibly stop it."

Barron leant back and folded his arms. Flaxman's eyes sparkled. He felt an insane desire to run the substantial gentleman sitting opposite to the door and dismiss him with violence. But he restrained himself.

"I am greatly obliged to you for your belief in the power of my good offices," he said, with a very frosty smile, "but I am afraid I must ask to be excused. Of course if the matter became serious, legal action would be taken very promptly."

"How can legal action be taken?" interrupted Barron roughly. "Whatever may be the case with regard to Meynell and her identification of him, Judith Sabin's story is true. Of that I am entirely convinced."

But he had hardly spoken before he felt that he had made a false step.

Flaxman's light blue eyes fixed him.

"The story with regard to Miss Puttenham?"

"Precisely."

"Then it comes to this: Supposing that woman's statement to be true, the private history of a poor lady who has lived an unblemished life in this village for many years is to be dragged to light--for what? In order--excuse my plain speaking--to blackmail Richard Meynell, and to force him to desist from the public campaign in which he is now engaged?