Johnny Ludlow Fourth Series Part 48

"Can I see Mrs. Ball?" asked Pym, after mentally anathematizing servants in general, black and white. "Is she at home?"

"Yes, sir, and she'll see you, I'm sure. She is vexed at their having left."

He dropped the half-crown into the girl's hand, returned the note to his pocket, and went to the house. Mrs. Ball, a talkative, good-humoured woman in a rusty black silk gown, with red cheeks and quick brown eyes, opened the door to him herself.

She invited him in. She would have given him Sir Dace Fontaine's address with all the pleasure in life, if she had it, she said. Sir Dace did not leave it with her. He simply bade her take in any letters that might come, and he would send for them.

"Have you not any notion where they went?--to what part of the town?"

asked the discomfited Pym. That little trick he had played Betty Huntsman was of no use to him now.

"Not any. Truth to say, I was too vexed to ask," confessed Mrs. Ball. "I knew nothing about their intention to leave until they were packing up.

Sir Dace paid me a week's rent in lieu of warning, and away they went in two cabs. You are related to them, sir? There's a look in your face that Sir Dace has got."

Mr. Pym knitted his brow; he did not take it as a compliment. Many people had seen the same likeness; though he was a handsome young man and Sir Dace an ugly old one.

"If you can get their address, I shall be much obliged to you to keep it for me; I will call again to-morrow evening," were his parting words to the landlady. And he went rattling back to the docks as fast as wheels could take him.

Mr. Pym went up to Woburn Place the following evening accordingly, but the landlady had no news to give him. He went the next evening after, and the next, and the next. All the same. He went so long and to so little purpose that he at last concluded the Fontaines were not in London. Sir Dace neither sent a messenger nor wrote for any letters there might be. Two were waiting for him; no more. Edward Pym and Mrs.

Ball became, so to say, quite intimate. She had much sympathy with the poor young man, who wanted to find his relatives before he sailed--and could not.

It may as well be told, not to make an unnecessary mystery of it, that the Fontaines had gone straight to Brighton. At length, however, Mrs.

Ball was one day surprised by a visit from Ozias. She never bore malice long, and received him civilly. Her rooms were let again, so she had got over the smart.

"At Brighton!" she exclaimed, when she heard where they had been--for the man had no orders to conceal it. "I thought it strange that your master did not send for his letters. And how are the young ladies? And where are you staying now?"

"The young ladies, they well," answered Ozias. "We stay now at one big house in Marylebone Road. We come up yesterday to this London town: Sir Dace, he find the sea no longer do for him; make him have much bile."

Edward Pym had been in a rage at not finding Verena. Verena, on her part, though rather wondering that she did not hear from him, looked upon his silence as only a matter of precaution. When they were settled at Woburn Place, after leaving Crabb, she had written to Pym, enjoining him not to reply. It might not be safe, she said, for Coralie had gone over to "the enemy," meaning Sir Dace: Edward must contrive to see her when he came to London to join his s.h.i.+p. And when the days went on, and Verena saw nothing of her lover, she supposed he was not yet in London.

She went to Brighton supposing the same. But, now that they were back from Brighton, and still neither saw Pym nor heard from him, Verena grew uneasy, fearing that the _Rose of Delhi_ had sailed.

"What a strange thing it is about Edward!" she exclaimed one evening to her sister. "I think he must have sailed. He would be sure to come to us if he were in London."

"How should he know where we are?" dissented Coralie. "For all he can tell, Vera, we may be in the moon."

A look of triumph crossed Vera's face. "He knows the address in Woburn Place, Coral, for I wrote and gave it him: and Mrs. Ball would direct him here. Papa sent Ozias there to-day for his letters; and I know Edward would never cease going there, day by day, to ask for news, until he heard of me."

Coralie laughed softly. Unlocking her writing-case, she displayed a letter that lay snugly between its leaves. It was the one that Vera had written at Woburn Place. Verena turned very angry, but Coralie made light of it.

"As I dare say he has already sailed, I confess my treachery, Vera. It was all done for your good. Better think no more of Edward Pym."

"You wicked thing! You are more cruel than Bluebeard. I shall take means to ascertain whether the _Rose of Delhi_ is gone. Captain Tanerton made a boast that he'd not take Edward out again, but he may not have been able to help himself," pursued Vera, her tone significant. "Edward _intended to go in her_, and he has a friend at court."

"A friend at court!" repeated Coralie. "What do you mean? Who is it?"

"It is the Freemans out-door manager at Liverpool, and the s.h.i.+p's husband--a Mr. Gould. He came up here when the s.h.i.+p got in, and he and Edward made friends together. The more readily because Gould and Captain Tanerton are not friends. The captain complained to the owners last time of something or other connected with the s.h.i.+p--some bad provisions, I think, that had been put on board, and insisted on its being rectified.

As Mr. Gould was responsible, he naturally resented this, and ever since he has been fit to hang Captain Tanerton."

"How do you know all this, Verena?"

"From Edward. He told me at Crabb. Mr. Gould has a great deal more to do with choosing the officers than the Freemans themselves have, and he promised Edward he should remain in the _Rose of Delhi_."

"It is strange Edward should care to remain in the s.h.i.+p when her commander does not like him," remarked Coralie.

"He stays in because of that--to thwart Tanerton," laughed Verena lightly. "Partly, at least. But he thinks, you see, and I think, that his remaining for two voyages in a s.h.i.+p that has so good a name may tell well for him with papa. Now you know, Coral."

The lovers met. Pym found her out through Mrs. Ball. And Verena, thoroughly independent in her notions, put on her bonnet, and walked with him up and down the Marylebone Road.

"We sail this day week, Vera," he said. "My life has been a torment to me, fearing I should not see you before the s.h.i.+p went out of dock. And, in that case, I don't think I should have gone in her."

"Is it the _Rose of Delhi_?" asked Vera.

"Of course. I told you Gould would manage it. She is first-rate in every way, and the most comfortable s.h.i.+p I ever was in--barring the skipper."

"You don't like him, I know. And he does not like you."

"I hate and detest him," said Pym warmly--therefore, as the reader must perceive, no love was lost between him and Jack. "He is an awful screw for keeping one to one's duty, and I expect we shall have no end of squalls. Ah, Verena," continued the young man, in a changed tone, "had you only listened to my prayers at Crabb, I need not have sailed again at all."

Mr. Edward Pym was a bold wooer. He had urged Verena to cut the matter short by marrying him at once. She stopped his words.

"I will marry you in twelve months from this, if all goes well, but not before. It is waste of time to speak of it, Edward--as I have told you.

Were I to marry without papa's consent--and you know he will not give it--he can take most of the money that came to me from mamma. Only a small income would remain to me. I shall not risk _that_."

"As if Sir Dace would exact it! He might go into one of his pa.s.sions at first, but he'd soon come round; he'd not touch your money, Vera." And Edward Pym, in saying this, fully believed it.

"You don't know papa. I have been used to luxuries, Edward, and I could not do without them. What would two hundred pounds a-year be for me--living as I have lived? And for you, also, for you would be my husband? Next May I shall be of age, and my fortune will be safe--all my own."

"A thousand things may happen in a year," grumbled Pym, who was wild to lead an idle life, and hated the discipline on board s.h.i.+p. "The _Rose of Delhi_ may go down, and I with it."

"She has not gone down yet. Why should she go down now?"

"What right had Coralie to intercept your letter?" asked Pym, pa.s.sing to another phase of his grievances.

"She had no right; but she did it. I asked Esther, our own maid, to run and put it in the post for me. Coralie, coming in from walking, met Esther at the door, saw the letter in her hand, and took it from her, saying she would go back and post it herself. Perhaps Esther suspected something: she did not tell me this. Coralie had the face to tell it me herself yesterday."

"Well, Vera, you should have managed better," returned Pym, feeling frightfully cross.

"Oh, Edward, don't you see how it is?" wailed the girl, in a piteous tone of appeal--"that they are all against me. Or, rather, against you.

Papa, Coralie, and Ozias: and I fancy now that Coralie has spoken to Esther. Papa makes them think as he thinks."

"It is a fearful shame. Is this to be our only interview?"

"No," said Vera. "I will see you every day until you sail."

"You may not be able to. We shall be watched, now Coralie has turned against us."

"I will see you every day until you sail," repeated the girl, with impa.s.sioned fervour. "Come what may, I will contrive to see you."