Chetwynd Calverley

“Ah, that’s out of the question now!” rejoined the captain. “It’s a charming place, but I fancy both Chetwynd and myself shall soon be shut out of it. Lord Courland is certain to make a great change, and bring in a new set. If I had been master here, my aim would have been to keep my old friends about me. Chetwynd should always have had his room, and old Norris should have remained in his place.”

“I’m glad to hear you say so,” remarked Sir Bridgnorth. “I’m certain Mr. Calverley never meant his property to be disposed of in this fashion. It’s a great pity half didn’t go to Mildred.”

“Ay; it ought to have been divided between Chetwynd and his sister. That would have been the right thing to do. Now, Mildred is not even to marry except With her step-mother’s consent.”

“You need have no uneasiness on that score,” remarked Chetwynd. “Mildred will have her marriage portion, and something besides.”

“You think so?” said Captain Danvers.

“I’ll answer for it,” rejoined Chetwynd.

“And if you require an additional guarantee, I’m ready to give it,” said Sir Bridgnorth. “But mind! should you ever come to be master here, I shall hold you to your promise to make us all at home.”

“You shan’t need to remind me of it, should that fortunate day ever arrive,” said the captain.

At that moment, the person who seemed to stand most in the captain’s way came forth, and wished them “Good morning.”

They all fancied he assumed a little of the air of the master of the house.

“I must consult you on a little matter after breakfast, Sir Bridgnorth,” he said. “I know you are a man of great taste. It strikes me some alterations might be made in the garden.”

“I hope your lordship won’t touch the lawn,” remarked Sir Bridgnorth. “It is very much admired.”

“The lawn itself is charming,” said Lord Courland; “but I don’t like those two sombre cedars.”

“They were my father’s especial favourites,” observed Chetwynd. “I hope your lordship will spare them.”

“I should consider it a sacrilege to remove them,” said Sir Bridgnorth.

“I don’t carry my veneration for trees quite so far,” rejoined Lord Courland; “and, as I have no particular associations connected with the two cedars, I shall merely consider whether my lawn cannot be improved.”

“My lawn!” whispered Chetwynd to Captain Danvers. “He is master here already.”

“I will get you to walk round with me presently, Sir Bridgnorth,” said Lord Courland, “and favour me with your opinion on the general arrangements.”

“If I may venture to give your lordship my opinion, without walking round,” replied Sir Bridgnorth, “I would strongly advise you to let the gardens and grounds alone. It is allowed to be one of the prettiest places in the country, and I should be sorry if it was destroyed.”

“But I don’t mean to destroy the place; I desire to improve it.”

“Such improvements as your lordship contemplates, I fear would destroy its character,” said Sir Bridgnorth; “and that is what I should regret.”

Just then the breakfast bell put an end to the discourse, and attracted the party to the house.

XVII, DOCTOR SPENCER

Lady Thicknesse and Scrope Danvers were in the breakfast-room when the others came in, and her ladyship said to them, “I am very sorry Mrs. Calverley will not be able to make her appearance at breakfast, this morning.”

“I hope she is not unwell,” remarked Lord Courland.

“She is not very well,” replied her ladyship. “But she wishes to confer with Doctor Spencer. He has been sent for to attend Miss Calverley, who has been taken ill during the night.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed Captain Danvers, anxiously. “She seemed quite well, and in excellent spirits last evening.”

“Perhaps she took cold,” observed Lady Thicknesse. “I fear we remained out rather too late. Only think of my dancing Sir Roger de Coverley in the open air! If I had been laid up, like Mildred, you would have been to blame,” she added, to Sir Bridgnorth.

“But your ladyship is looking better than ever,” he rejoined gallantly. “You ought therefore to thank me.”

“Well, I don’t think I’m the worse for it, and I certainly enjoyed the dance very much.”

Breakfast was then served and Lady Thicknesse presided at the table.

She took care to have Sir Bridgnorth beside her, and they seemed the most cheerful persons present, for the absence of the three other ladies cast a gloom over the rest of the party.

Meanwhile Doctor Spencer was with Mrs. Calverley in her dressing-room, she having given orders that he should be brought there immediately on his arrival.

An elderly man, with white hair, jetty eyebrows and black eyes. The expression of his countenance was kindly and composed, his accents agreeable, and his manner singularly pleasing. All his patients liked him.

Mrs. Calverley had been a great favourite with the doctor, and he had hitherto had a very high opinion of her, founded not only upon his own notion of her character, but on the praises bestowed upon her by her late husband.

She thought his manner less cordial than it used to be, but she was so troubled she could scarcely judge.

“I am very sorry Miss Calverley is ill,” he said, taking a seat. “What is the matter with her?”

“I can’t exactly tell,” she rejoined. “I have not yet seen her this morning. We were all dancing on the lawn rather late last evening, and she may have taken cold.”

“Dancing on the lawn!” exclaimed Doctor Spencer shaking his head. “That was imprudent. Mildred is delicate. She has got a chill, I suppose?”

“I can’t tell. Her maid came to me in the middle of the night, and said Miss Calverley felt very sick and ill, so I sent her a restorative. She took a few drops of eau de luce, as I understood, and I thought she was better, for I heard nothing more till the morning, when I learnt that the sickness was not gone, so I sent for you.”

During this explanation, Doctor Spencer kept his eye fixed on Mrs. Calverley in a manner she did not like.

“This is not a feverish cold, as I thought,” he observed. “But I shall be better able to judge when I see her.”

“Emmeline Barfleur and their maid occupy the same room with her, so she has had plenty of attendance. I should have gone to her if she had been alone.”

At this moment a tap was heard at the door, and Emmeline came in.

She looked very much frightened, and said, hastily:

“Pray come and see Miss Calverley at once, Doctor Spencer! She has just fainted!”

Doctor Spencer instantly prepared to obey.

“Take these restoratives with you,” said Mrs. Calverley, giving him several small bottles; “and come back to me when you have seen her.”

“I will,” replied the doctor, as he followed Emmeline.

Some little time elapsed before Doctor Spencer appeared again.

To the guilty woman, who awaited her sentence, it was an interval of intense anxiety; but she endeavoured to maintain her calmness, fearing to betray herself.

Thinking she ought to be employed, she sat down to write a letter, but had not got very far with it when Doctor Spencer came into the room.

Closing the door after him, he fixed a strange and searching glance upon her, and so terrified her by his looks that she could not speak, nor did he break the silence.

At length, she gave utterance to these words:

“I am afraid you bring bad news, doctor. Is she seriously ill?”

“She is,” he replied, sternly. “But I think I shall be able to save her.”

“What ails her?” inquired Mrs. Calverley.

“Have you no idea?”

“None whatever,” she replied, looking perplexed.

“Poison has been administered to her!”

“Impossible!” she exclaimed.

“I cannot be deceived!” said Doctor Spencer. “The attempt has been twice made. In each instance the dose was, fortunately, too small to be fatal.”

The slight nervous tremour that agitated Mrs. Calverley was not unnoticed by the doctor.

“This is a terrible accusation to make!” she said.

“But it can be easily substantiated,” he rejoined. “Indeed, it would be difficult to conceal the evidence of the crime!”

“On whom do your suspicions alight, doctor?” asked Mrs. Calverley, as firmly as she could. “On any one in attendance upon her?”

“One of them has been an unconscious instrument,” he replied. “But the hand that really provided the poison was elsewhere.”

After a short pause, he added, in a stern tone:

“Madam, yours is the hand by which the deed has been done!”

“Mine!” she exclaimed, fiercely and defiantly.

“Nay, it is useless to deny it!” he rejoined. “I have but to search this chamber to find proof of your guilt.”

“Search it then!” she cried, in the same defiant tone.

Doctor Spencer glanced around, and his eye quickly alighted upon the dressing-box.

“Open this box!” he cried, seizing her hand, and drawing her towards it. “Open it, I say!” he reiterated, in a terrible voice. “There the poison is concealed!”

So overpowered was she by his determined manner, that she did not dare to disobey.

Without offering the slightest resistance, she unlocked the box, and disclosed the casket.

He uttered a cry of satisfaction on beholding it.

“Now unlock this!” he said, giving her the casket.

Again she obeyed; but instantly took forth a phial containing the poison, and would have swallowed its contents, had not Doctor Spencer snatched it from her.

“Why do you treat me thus cruelly?” she cried. “Why not let me die?”

“Because I desire to give you a chance of life,” he rejoined. “If your intended victim escapes the fate you designed her, I will not denounce you. If she dies, you know your doom!”

“Do you think she will live?” asked Teresa.

“Her life hangs on a thread. But a few days – perhaps a few hours – will decide. For the present, I will keep your terrible secret, and screen you from suspicion. But only on the condition that you remain here, and abide the result of your dreadful crime. Attempt to fly, and I will instantly check you. Now you know my fixed determination.”

“And you will remain in constant attendance on Mildred?” she asked.

“I shall,” he replied. “And rest assured I shall do my best to save her.”

With this he left the room, taking the phial with him.

XVIII. DOCTOR SPENCER HAS AN INTERVIEW WITH CHETWYND

While the terrible scene just described was taking place up-stairs, Chetwynd had quitted the breakfast-table and repaired to the library, where he proposed to have an interview with Doctor Spencer, after the latter had seen Mildred.

He subsequently learnt from Norris that the butler had had a private conference with the doctor on his arrival, and had given him some information that would serve to guide him in his proceedings.

Chetwynd thought the doctor a long time in coming down, and when at last he entered the library, the young man did not augur very well from his looks.

“I am afraid you find my sister worse than you expected, doctor?” he said.

“She is in a very precarious state,”’ replied Doctor Spencer. “Still, I hope to save her life.”

Then assuming a different manner, he added, “I had better mention at once that Norris has made certain disclosures to me, the truth of which I have just ascertained.”

“You are satisfied, then, that an attempt has been made to poison my sister?”

“I am,” replied the doctor.

“By her step-mother?”

“By Mrs. Calverley. I have discovered the poison in her room, and have it now in my possession.”

“Then what should prevent us from instantly delivering her up to justice? No pity ought to be shown her.”

“I think differently,” said the doctor. “I have promised that if I can save your sister’s life – as I hope I can – her own shall be spared.”

“She does not deserve such consideration,” cried Chetwynd.

“Perhaps you will think differently,” said the doctor, calmly, “when I tell you that it is your sister’s wish that she should be spared for a life of penitence. The dear girl entreated me so earnestly to screen her intended murderess, that I consented.”

Chetwynd was deeply moved.

“Mildred is an angel of goodness!” he exclaimed, in a voice half suffocated by emotion.

“You would say so, if you had seen her, as I have done,” said the doctor. “No one could be more gentle and patient, though she suffers much, and she is perfectly resigned to her fate, whatever it may be. But she desires spiritual counsel, and Miss Barfleur has written to Mr. Massey, the chaplain of Brackley, requesting him to come to her forthwith, and it is certain he will promptly obey the summons. Under such painful and peculiar circumstances, and where it is necessary that secrecy should be observed, no better man could be found than Mr. Massey.”

“I am certain of it,” said Chetwynd. “I have had experience of his goodness. He is as judicious and discreet as he is strict in his religious duties.”

“I must now go,” said the doctor; “but I shall return again ere long. I need not say more to you about the necessity of attending to your sister’s wishes. Should she be disturbed or excited, I will not answer for her life. I have already cautioned Norris, and I think he will attend to my injunctions.”

“I will also speak to him,” said Chetwynd. “But you need not fear any indiscretion on his part. Since you have made him aware of my sister’s wishes, he will attend to them – for he is strongly attached to her, though he detests Mrs. Calverley. Unluckily, the house is full of company; and you are also, I conclude, aware under what circumstances Lord Courland is invited?”

“Yes; I understand that a matrimonial arrangement has been all but concluded between his lordship and Mrs. Calverley. It is idle to speculate as to what will now be the result. But I counsel you in no way to interfere. Impossible you can do so without some explanation, which cannot now be given. Your sister’s wishes ought to be your paramount consideration.” With this injunction, the doctor took his departure.

XIX. WHAT PASSED BETWEEN LORD COURLAND AND MR. CARTERET

Lord Courland was in the drawing-room after breakfast, amusing himself as well as he could, and hoping Mrs. Calverley would soon make her appearance and dispel his ennui, when Norris brought him a message from Mr. Carteret, who said that, if perfectly convenient to his lordship, he should be glad to see him for a few minutes.

Lord Courland was delighted. He was aware that Mr. Carteret was Mrs. Calverley’s lawyer, and was particularly anxious to have a little conversation with him.

“I’ll come to him at once,” he said. “Where is he?”

“I’ll take your lordship to him,” replied the butler.

And he conducted him to the cabinet, in which, as we have explained, Mrs. Calverley was wont to transact her private business.

Mr. Carteret was alone, and bowed very respectfully as his lordship entered.

After a little preliminary discourse, Lord Courland remarked, in a very easy tone, as if everything was satisfactorily settled:

“I hope we shall be able to complete our arrangements, Mr. Carteret,”

“I hope so, my lord,” replied the solicitor. “But I am desired by Mrs. Calverley to offer you some explanation, as she fears there has been a slight misunderstanding on your lordship’s part. It is always better these affairs should be arranged by professional men, who don’t hesitate to ask each other questions.”

“I thought there were no questions to ask,” said Lord Courland, rather surprised. “Everything appeared clear.”

“So it seemed. But I find, on conferring with Mrs. Calverley, that she was under a misapprehension as to her power – ”

“What do you mean, sir?” cried his lordship, quickly. “If I am rightly informed, she has absolute control over her late husband’s property?”

“She has so now, my lord,” replied the solicitor.

“You don’t mean to insinuate that she forfeits the property, in case she marries again?” cried his lordship, in dismay.

“That is precisely her position, my lord,” replied Mr. Carteret, calmly. “The property will go to her step-daughter, Miss Mildred Calverley!”

“Why was I not informed of this before?” cried Lord Courland, looking very angry.

“It is on this point that I desire to offer your lordship an explanation,” said the solicitor. “Until Mrs. Calverley conferred with me about the settlement, she was quite unaware of her ability to make one.”

“This is incredible, sir,” cried Lord Courland. “I shall make no remarks, but it is useless to proceed with the business.”

“Your lordship seems to form a very unjust and improper opinion of my client,” said Mr. Carteret. “She was greatly distressed when she made the discovery I have mentioned – but more on your lordship’s account than on her own. Though she will lose this large property, she can still settle fifteen hundred a year on your lordship, and has instructed me to say that she will do so.”

“I do not feel inclined to accept it, sir!” replied Lord Courland, haughtily.

“Then I am to understand that the match is broken off?”

“It is,” replied Lord Courland, in the same haughty tone.

“Permit me, then, to remark, on my own part,” said Mr. Carteret, “that I think Mrs. Calverley is much better off with her large property than with a title. I will communicate your decision to her. I have the honour to wish your lordship a good morning.”

And he quitted the cabinet.

XX. THE PARTING BETWEEN TERESA AND LORD COURLAND

|Left alone, Lord Courland did not feel by any means satisfied with what he had done

He was really in love with Mrs. Calverley, and now that he seemed likely to lose her, his passion revived in all its force. He had made certain of a large fortune, and vexation at his disappointment had carried him farther than he intended. It was disagreeable to lose so charming a place as Ouselcroft, and such a splendid income as he had been promised, but it was far more disagreeable to loose the object of his affections. Moreover, fifteen hundred a year, though it would not bear comparison with five thousand, was not to be despised. Altogether, he blamed himself for his precipitancy, and resolved, if possible, to set matters right.

With this determination, he was about to quit the cabinet, when Teresa made her appearance.

She looked exceedingly pale and ill, and, thinking he was the cause of her suffering, he felt inclined to throw himself at her feet, and entreat forgiveness.

But she checked him by her manner, which was totally changed, and almost freezingly cold.

“I have learnt your decision, my lord,” she said, in accents devoid of emotion, “and entirely approve of it. I would not have it otherwise.”

“But I was wrong, dearest Teresa!” he cried. “I retract all I have said, and pray you to forgive me! I will take you without fortune! I cannot live without you!”

A melancholy smile played upon her pallid features.

“Would I had known this before!” she said. “But it is now too late!”

“Why too late?” he exclaimed, despairingly. “I have told you I will take you as you are. Do as you please with your own. I will ask nothing!”

“Alas!” she exclaimed, sadly. “I repeat it is now too late. I cannot wed you!”

Lord Courland uttered a cry of anguish.

“Not wed me!” he ejaculated. “What hindrance is there to our union that did not exist before? Pardon me, sweet Teresa; I feel I have deeply offended you by my apparent selfishness, but I will try to make amends! I am sure you love me!”

“I do!” she replied, earnestly, and with a look of inexpressible tenderness. “You are the only person I have ever loved – not for your rank, but for yourself. Had I been fortunate enough to wed you, I should have been happy – happier than I deserve to be!”

“Not than you deserve to be, dearest Teresa!”

“Yes,” she replied, in accents of bitterest self-reproach. “I have no right to expect happiness!”

“What is the meaning of this?” he exclaimed, regarding her in astonishment.

“Do not question me,” she replied. “Some time or other you will understand me. I merely came to tell you it is best that we should part, and therefore I approve of your decision as conveyed to me by Mr. Carteret.”

“But I recall it,” he cried. “Think no more of it, sweetest Teresa.”

“Again I say it is too late,” she rejoined, in a sombre tone. “It is idle to prolong this discourse, which can lead to nothing. Farewell!”

“Do you, then, bid me depart?”

“I do not bid you; but we cannot meet again.”

“If so, it would be useless to stay. But you will think differently when you become calmer.”

“You mistake,” she said. “I was never calmer than now. Had I not felt so, I would not have seen you. But the parting moment is come. Again, farewell!”

And with a look that remained for ever graven on his memory, she disappeared.

Bewildered as if he had been in a troubled dream, Lord Courland remained for some time in the cabinet, seriously reproaching himself with having caused the mental malady with which he thought Teresa had become suddenly afflicted.

He then went down-stairs, intending to consult Lady Thicknesse, but found she had gone to Brackley Hall with Sir Bridgnorth Charlton, who had driven her thither in his phaeton.

However, as his lordship could not rest in his present anxious and excited state, he determined to follow her; and, explaining his difficulty to Scrope, though without entering into particulars, the latter offered to accompany him, and they went at once to the stables to procure horses.

XXI. HOW MRS. CALVERLEY MADE HER WILL

On returning to her dressing-room, after the painful interview with Lord Courland, Mrs. Calverley sat down for a few minutes to collect herself; and then, taking a large sheet of paper from a drawer, began to write out a formal document.

She pursued her task, without intermission, for more than half an hour; and then, having completed it, rang the bell for Laura.

“Shall I bring your breakfast, ma’am?” asked the lady’s-maid.

“No; I do not require any breakfast,” replied Mrs. Calverley.

“Let me persuade you to take some, ma’am. You look very ill.”

“I am too busy just now,” rejoined Mrs. Calverley.

“Beg Mr. Carteret to come to me. You will find him in the library. I also wish to see Mr. Higgins. Request him to come up to me in about five minutes – not before.”

“I understand, ma’am.”

“Stay!” cried Mrs. Calverley. “I have several letters to write, and shall not want you. If you like you can drive to Brackley in the pony-carriage.”

“Oh! thank you, ma’am! May I take Monsieur Zephyrus with me?”

“Monsieur Zephyrus, and anybody else you like. You needn’t take the groom.”

Laura departed, full of glee.

Shortly afterwards, the attorney made his appearance.

“Pray sit down, sir,” she said. “I wish you to read this document.”

“Why, you have been making your will, I perceive!” he cried, as he took the paper.

“Will it suffice?” she asked, briefly.

“It seems to me, from a hasty glance, that it will answer perfectly,” he replied. “But we will go through it. You divide your property equally, I find, between Chetwynd and Mildred, Quite right. But I do not approve of the bequest of five thousand pounds to Lord Courland. However, I suppose it must stand.”

“It must,” she observed in a peremptory tone.

Mr. Carteret then went on.

“I am much pleased that you have remembered your late husband’s old servant, John Norris. The faithful fellow well deserves the thousand pounds you are good enough to leave him. I also observe that you have made several minor bequests, and have not forgotten your attendant, Laura Martin.”

“I believe Laura is attached to me,” remarked Mrs. Calverley.

“I have no doubt of it,” said Mr. Carteret. “As executors, I see you have appointed Sir Bridgnorth Charlton and Chetwynd, with a legacy to the former of a thousand pounds. No appointment could be more judicious. The will requires no alteration.”

“I wish to execute it at once,” said Mrs. Calverley.

“In that case, we shall require another witness. We cannot have Norris, since he is a legatee.”

“I have provided for that,” said Mrs. Calverley; “and have told Laura to send up Lady Thicknesses butler, Higgins. He may be without.”

“I will see,” replied Carteret.

Finding Higgins at the door, he explained the business to him, and brought him in.

The butler bowed respectfully, and seemed greatly struck by Mrs. Calverley’s changed appearance, but he made no remark.