Elster's Folly Part 77

"Only Mr. Carr; and he left to-day. We've got the old countess-dowager still."

"And likely to have her, if all's true that's said," put in Mrs. Jones.

Mirrable tacitly admitted the probability. Her private opinion was that nothing short of a miracle could ever remove the Dowager Kirton from the house again. Had any one told Mirrable, as she stood there, that her ladys.h.i.+p would be leaving of her own accord that night, she had simply said it was impossible.

"Mary," cried the weak voice of poor timid Mrs. Gum, "how was it none of the brothers came to the funeral? Jabez was wondering. She had a lot, I've heard."

"It was not convenient to them, I suppose," replied Mirrable. "The one in the Isle of Wight had gone cruising in somebody's yacht, or he'd have come with the dowager; and Lord Kirton telegraphed from Ireland that he was prevented coming. I know nothing about the rest."

"It was an awful death!" s.h.i.+vered Mrs. Gum. "And without cause too; for the child was not hurt after all. Isn't my lord dreadfully cut up, Mary?"

"I think so; he's very quiet and subdued. But he has seemed full of sorrow for a long while, as if he had some dreadful care upon him. I don't think he and his wife were very happy together," added Mirrable.

"My lord's likely to make Hartledon his chief residence now, I fancy, for--My gracious! what's that?"

A crash as if a whole battery of crockery had come down inside the house. A moment of staring consternation ensued, and nervous Mrs. Gum looked ready to faint. The two women disappeared indoors, and Mirrable turned homewards at a brisk pace. But she was not to go on without an interruption. Pike's head suddenly appeared above the hurdles, and he began inquiring after her health. "Toothache gone?" asked he.

"Yes," she said, answering straightforwardly in her surprise. "How did you know I had toothache?" It was not the first time by several he had thus accosted her; and to give her her due, she was always civil to him.

Perhaps she feared to be otherwise.

"I heard of it. And so my Lord Hartledon's like a man with some dreadful care upon him!" he went on. "What is the care?"

"You have been eavesdropping!" she angrily exclaimed.

"Not a bit of it. I was seated under the hedge with my pipe, and you three women began talking. I didn't tell you to. Well, what's his lords.h.i.+p's care?"

"Just mind your own business, and his lords.h.i.+p will mind his," she retorted. "You'll get interfered with in a way you won't like, Pike, one of these days, unless you mend your manners."

"A great care on him," nodded Pike to himself, looking after her, as she walked off in her anger. "A great care! _I_ know. One of these fine days, my lord, I may be asking you questions about it on my own score. I might long before this, but for--"

The sentence broke off abruptly, and ended with a growl at things in general. Mr. Pike was evidently not in a genial mood.

Mirrable reached home to find the countess-dowager in a state more easily imagined than described. Some sprite, favourable to the peace of Hartledon, had been writing confidentially from Ireland regarding Kirton and his doings. That her eldest son was about to steal a march on her and marry again seemed almost indisputably clear; and the miserable dowager, dancing her war-dance and uttering reproaches, was repacking her boxes in haste. Those boxes, which she had fondly hoped would never again leave Hartledon, unless it might be for sojourns in Park Lane! She was going back to Ireland to mount guard, and prevent any such escapade. Only in September had she quitted him--and then had been as nearly ejected as a son could eject his mother with any decency--and had taken the Isle of Wight on her way to Hartledon. The son who lived in the Isle of Wight had espoused a widow twice his own age, with eleven hundred a year, and a house and carriage; so that he had a home: which the countess-dowager sometimes remembered.

Lord Hartledon was liberal. He gave her a handsome sum for her journey, and a cheque besides; most devoutly praying that she might keep guard over Kirton for ever. He escorted her to the station himself in a closed carriage, an omnibus having gone before them with a mountain of boxes, at which all Calne came out to stare.

And the same week, confiding his children to the joint care of Mirrable and their nurse--an efficient, kind, and judicious woman--Lord Hartledon departed from home and England for a sojourn on the Continent, long or short, as inclination might lead him, feeling as a bird released from its cage.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

COMING HOME.

Some eighteen months after the event recorded in the last chapter, a travelling carriage dashed up to a house in Park Lane one wet evening in spring. It contained Lord Hartledon and his second wife. They were expected, and the servants were a.s.sembled in the hall.

Lord Hartledon led her into their midst, proudly, affectionately; as he had never in his life led any other. Ah, you need not ask who she was; he had contrived to win her, to win over Dr. Ashton; and his heart had at length found rest. Her fair countenance, her thoughtful eyes and sweet smile were turned on the servants, thanking them for their greeting.

"All well, Hedges?" asked Lord Hartledon.

"Quite well, my lord. But we are not alone."

"No!" said Val, stopping in his progress. "Who's here?"

"The Countess-Dowager of Kirton, my lord," replied Hedges, glancing at Lady Hartledon in momentary hesitation.

"Oh, indeed!" said Val, as if not enjoying the information. "Just see, Hedges, that the things inside the carriage are all taken out. Don't come up, Mrs. Ball; I will take Lady Hartledon to her rooms."

It was the light-hearted Val of the old, old days; his face free from care, his voice gay. He did not turn into any of the reception-rooms, but led his wife at once to her chamber. It was nearly dinner-time, and he knew she was tired.

"Welcome home, my darling!" he whispered tenderly ere releasing her. "A thousand welcomes to you, my dear, dear wife!"

Tears rose to his eyes with the fervour of the wish. Heaven alone knew what the past had been; the contrast between that time and this.

"I will dress at once, Percival," she said, after a few moments' pause.

"I must see your children before dinner. Heaven helping me, I shall love them and always act by them as if they were my own."

"I am so sorry she is here, Anne--that terrible old woman. You heard Hedges say Lady Kirton had arrived. Her visit is ill-timed."

"I shall be glad to welcome her, Val."

"It is more than I shall be," replied Val, as his wife's maid came into the room, and he quitted it. "I'll bring the children to you, Anne."

They had been married nearly five weeks. Anne had not seen the children for several months. The little child, Edward, had shown symptoms of delicacy, and for nearly a year the children had sojourned at the seaside, having been brought to the town-house just before their father's marriage.

The nursery was empty, and Lord Hartledon went down. In the pa.s.sage outside the drawing-room was Hedges, evidently waiting for his master, and with a budget to unfold.

"When did she come, Hedges?"

"My lord, it was only a few days after your marriage," replied Hedges.

"She arrived in the most outrageous tantrum--if I shall not offend your lords.h.i.+p by saying so--and has been here ever since, completely upsetting everything."

"What was her tantrum about?"

"On account of your having married again, my lord. She stood in the hall for five minutes when she got here, saying the most audacious things against your lords.h.i.+p and Miss Ashton--I mean my lady," corrected Hedges.

"The old hag!" muttered Lord Hartledon.

"I think she's insane at times, my lord; I really do. The fits of pa.s.sion she flies into are quite bad enough for insanity. The housekeeper told me this morning she feared she would be capable of striking my lady, when she first saw her. I'm afraid, too, she has been schooling the children."

Lord Hartledon strode into the drawing-room. There, as large as life--and a great deal larger than most lives--was the dowager-countess.

Fortunately she had not heard the arrival: in fact, she had dropped into a doze whilst waiting for it; and she started up when Val entered.

"How are you, ma'am?" asked he. "You have taken me by surprise."

"Not half as much as your wicked letter took me," screamed the old dowager. "Oh, you vile man! to marry again in this haste! You--you--I can't find words that I should not be ashamed of; but Hamlet's mother, in the play, was nothing to it."