A Fair Mystery: The Story of a Coquette

"Some time after I left England a little daughter was born to her. She still kept her secret. This little child she confided to the care of a servant. The servant must have known you or heard of you, for she left the little one, as you both know, at your door, and you took her in. They wrote to me and told me what they had done, far away in India. I was helpless to interfere. Then I lost my wife; but the child continued with you. I made no effort to reclaim her. I do not seek to gloss over my fault, believe me. The truth is, to a soldier in India a baby is not a very desirable object. The existence of this child was a source of embarrassment and confusion to me. I had not the means of supporting it as a daughter of the house of Studleigh should be supported, so I did what seems so fatally easy, yet always leads to bad consequences – I let circumstances drift along as they would. The end of it was that as years went on I almost forgot the child's existence."

"But the money," said Mark, wonderingly, "always came the same."

The earl looked up quickly.

"Yes – oh – of course that was attended to," he said; but his face flushed and his eyes fell.

"To my great surprise," he continued, "I found myself, by a chapter of accidents, suddenly raised to an earldom. I am Earl of Linleigh, now, and that is a very different matter from being simply Captain Studleigh. The daughter of Captain Studleigh might always remain unknown; the daughter of the Earl of Linleigh has a title and wealth of her own. You understand the difference, I am sure, Mr. Brace?"

"Yes," said Mark, "I understand."

"One of the first things I turned my attention to, after my accession to the estates, was the daughter my wife sent to you."

He looked nervously at the farmer and his wife, still never looking at Doris.

"Well, my lord," said Mark, "we have done our best by her; she has had a good education, and she is clever. The money sent has always been spent upon her. We love her very much, but she is not one of us, and never could be. So that it is something of a relief to us to give her back into your own hands. Doris, my dear," he continued, turning to the beautiful girl by his side, "it is of you we are speaking. You are not my daughter, my dear; my good wife here is not your mother; but we have been very fond of you since you were left a little helpless baby at our door, in the cold darkness and pouring rain."

The girl's face turned deadly pale. It was no news to her – this secret which poor Mark never dreamed she knew; it had long been no secret to her. She caught her breath with a low, gasping sigh.

"You have been very kind to me," she said – "very kind."

"Poor child," said Mrs. Brace, gently. "You see she loves us after all, Mark."

Then, for the first time, the earl turned slowly to look at his daughter. They could all see fear as well as anxiety in his eyes. At first his lips quivered, and his face grew deadly pale; then gradually every other emotion became absorbed in admiration. He came up to her and raised her face to the light; then, as the two faces looked at each other, the wonderful likeness between them became apparent.

"Nay, daughter," said the earl, gently, "no need to ask Mark Brace if this be indeed my daughter. Her face tells the story – she is a Studleigh. She seems like one of the family pictures come down from its frame. Welcome, my daughter, to your father's heart and home!"

And as he spoke, the earl kissed most tenderly the lovely, blushing face.

CHAPTER L

"ONLY ONE OTHER PERSON KNOWS MY SECRET."

Then, with the gallantry that was always natural to him, the earl placed his daughter in a chair. He turned with a smile to Mark.

"I was a coward," he said, "for the second time in my life. I was afraid to look at her; now I do not see how I can look anywhere else. How am I to thank you? You have brought me the fairest and most graceful daughter in England!"

"Well," said Mark, with an air of great consideration, "you see, my lord, we had nothing to do with her grace and beauty; but my wife has certainly done her best to teach the young lady little tidy ways, and such like."

"I hope she has learned them," said the earl, kindly. "Mrs. Brace looks as though she could teach all goodness. And this is my daughter! Child, how like you are to me."

"I am very glad, papa; am I not like mother, too?"

"No," he replied, gravely, "not in the least. Thank Heaven for it!"

When they heard those words they thought that he had certainly married beneath him – that his marriage had not turned out happily.

"There are some necessary legal forms to be gone through," said the earl, "and as business is always disagreeable, it will be well, perhaps, if we settle that at once. My lawyer is in attendance. It will be necessary for you and Mrs. Brace to make an affidavit stating that this is indeed my daughter, the infant placed under your charge."

"That will be easy enough," said Mark. "If some one does the writing, I will sign."

Lord Linleigh laughed; Mrs. Brace looked a little scandalized at the very free-and-easy speech. The earl said, laying his hand caressingly on the girl's shoulder:

"This becomes a very important lady now; we must be careful what we do about her. She is Lady Doris Studleigh, and that is one of the oldest titles in England."

"Who could have thought it?" said kindly Mrs. Brace. "Lady Doris Studleigh, let me be the first, your ladyship – my dear – to wish you health and strength to enjoy your good fortune."

The earl was pleased when he saw his daughter clasp her arms round her foster-mother's neck.

"She has a loving, grateful heart," he said to himself, "and that is rare enough in a Studleigh."

He little dreamed that in those few minutes Doris had read his character accurately, and that the action was performed entirely to please him.

The bell was rung, and the lawyer appeared. The affidavits were soon drawn out. Mark and his wife each swore solemnly that the young lady they brought to the earl was the child who had been left under their charge. Mark was greatly relieved when he found that he had nothing more to do than to sign his own name.

"Affidavits were certainly never less necessary," said the lawyer – "the Lady Doris has a true Studleigh face."

How the girl's heart beat with high pride and gratified vanity as she heard her title from strange lips!

Then the lawyer was dismissed, and the earl led the way to the hall. To the surprise of the three strangers, all the servants of the household were assembled, evidently by the earl's desire. He stopped one moment, looked at them, then taking his daughter by the hand, led her before them.

"My good friends," said the earl, "I have a few words to say to you, and those few words are better said in public. You are, most of you, aware, I suppose, that years ago I was a captain in the army, without any expectation of ever being an earl. I married before I went to India – some of you know it, some do not. One daughter was born to me, and I lost my wife. My daughter has lived under the charge of her worthy foster-parents, and I trust you will pay all obedience, all respect, all honor to Lady Doris Studleigh."

There was not a heart present which was not touched by emotion. All eyes were fixed on that beautiful face turned half-wistfully toward them.

"Long live Lady Doris Studleigh!" said some of the more enthusiastic.

"Long life and happiness!" said the others.

The earl looked pleased, then he led the way to the dining-room, where a grand banquet was prepared.

Mark never forgot that dinner – the plate, the wines, the fruit, the exquisite dishes, the number of well-trained servants. His embarrassment was at times something dreadful, but the earl was so kind, so considerate; he helped him at such critical periods, keeping during the whole time an observant eye on his daughter. He was charmed with her grace, her dignity; and her perfectly easy manner delighted him even more than her marvelous beauty. He saw that she was quite familiar with all the little details of table etiquette; and while he inwardly thanked Heaven that it was so, he secretly wondered how she had acquired it; evidently the good farmer and his wife had not taught her.

When dinner was over, the earl would not hear of their return, as Mark wished. He declared that they must remain and see all the sights of Linleigh, to the secret annoyance of Doris.

"The sooner she had finished with these vulgar people," she said to herself, "the sooner she should be able to take her own place."

But she was quick enough to take her cue from the earl's kindly behavior to them. Lord Linleigh had indeed quite sense enough to appreciate a noble, sterling character like Mark's. He made them happy as possible all the evening, and when they had retired he drew his daughter to his side.

"I have made no arrangements for you, my darling; shall we discuss them now?"

"No," she replied, quickly, "not until Mr. and Mrs. Brace are gone away. I want to think of nothing but them while they are here."

He was so delighted that he drew her closer to him, saying:

"You are a treasure – you are, indeed, my darling. The housekeeper has a niece who will act as your maid until you choose one. The blue-room has been prepared for you; to-morrow you shall choose a suit for yourself."

She thanked him, and then bade him good-night.

He watched the graceful figure and beautiful face until the door closed, then he sank back in his chair in unutterable relief.

"Thank Heaven!" he said, "that is all over. I must write to Estelle and tell her how well it has all passed off." He sat musing for a short time with a smile on his face. "I ought, most certainly, to think myself a very happy man," he said. "In all my life I have seen nothing to compare with that girl's face. Estelle will be very proud of her."

Meanwhile his daughter was rehearsing her first lesson in the dignified retirement of her own room. She had found in the pretty chamber, known as the blue-room, a pretty, rosy maid waiting for her; a bright fire was burning, the lamps were lighted on the toilet-table: the room looked the very picture of luxury and comfort. The maid greeted her with a most respectful courtesy.

"If you please, my lady, the housekeeper desired me to remain here at your service."

"Draw that easy-chair to the toilet-table," said Lady Doris; "find me a footstool, and give me from my box there a book bound in yellow paper."

Her orders were obeyed with a quickness and dexterity that amazed her, imperious as she was.

"Now," said Lady Doris, leaning back in her chair so as to enjoy the fire and bright pearly light, "you can brush my hair; but be very careful – I am very particular over it."

It was certainly a sight to be seen, that long, rippling golden hair, bright as the sunbeams, soft as silk, fine, abundant, full of natural waves. The girl looked at it admiringly as it hung over her arms in a great shower.

"It really does seem a pity to sleep in it," she thought. "If it were my hair I should like to take it off at night."

When sufficient of that ceremony had been gone through, Lady Doris turned round:

"Will you go to the housekeeper and say I should like some wine and a bunch of grapes, if she has any?"

The maid complied. The housekeeper, all anxiety to please my lady, sent a bottle of finest Burgundy, with a bunch of rich grapes that were tempting enough.

"My mistress is as beautiful as an angel," said the maid, "but she knows how to look after her own comforts."

"So do all ladies," was the housekeeper's reply; "what else have they to do? But when you have lived as long as I have, Emily, you will know how to wait upon people without making comments upon them."

The maid returned to the room; her lovely young mistress still sat reading by the fire.

"What shall I do for you in the morning, my lady?" she asked.

"See that I am not called too early; let me have some chocolate just after I awake, and see that the water of my bath is both warmed and perfumed."

Emily opened her eyes in wonder, but thought it better to say no more. She contented herself by thinking again that Lady Studleigh knew how to study her own comforts.

"Is there anything more I can do to-night, my lady?"

"Nothing more," was the reply, given with a smile that won the maid's heart forever and ever.

She hastened to the housekeeper's room to make her report.

"So beautiful, kind, and gracious; but so thorough lady – no nonsense, no freedom – a lady who looked as though she would keep the whole world in its place." And the servants crowded round her to listen and admire.

Lady Doris was impatient to be alone – impatient to lock the door between herself and all human kind, in order that she might give some little freedom to the emotions pent up in her heart.

She had controlled herself so well; she had won surprise, admiration, and wonder by simply refraining from expressing any of the three. Now no curious eyes were gazing at her, no curious ears were listening to what words in her triumph escaped her. She locked the door, then stood before the large mirror and steadfastly looked at herself.

"All this is mine!" she said. "I have every wish of my heart at last! I have luxury such as I never dreamed of – magnificence suited for a queen! I have a title that makes music in my ears! I have one of the noblest earls in England for my father! Ah, how near I have been to losing all this; even now I might lose it if that terrible secret of mine became known – it would be taken from me. My father would forgive me many things, but never that."

She stood quite still; the color faded from her beautiful face; a cold chill seized her.

"How foolish I am," she said. "What need have I to fear? Only one other person knows my secret, and he would be the last, I know, to make it known. If ever he attempts it, he shall die!"

Then she laughed; but there was something dreary in the laugh.

"I shall never see him again," she said to herself; "and if I did – if he declared that he knew me – I should look quite steadily in his face and say – swear, if necessary – that in all my life I had never met him before. I am Studleigh enough to have nerve for that. Who was my mother, I wonder? Some one of whom the earl is evidently ashamed; therefore she can have little interest for me."

CHAPTER LI

A NOBLEMAN'S GENEROSITY

Notwithstanding all the kindness and hospitality that the earl had shown to Mark, it was some relief to the farmer to know that when morning dawned he was that day to return home. The grandeur of Linleigh Court oppressed him; he longed to be with his laborers and his cattle, at work.

The earl took breakfast with them; Lady Doris was not down – "she was tired," the maid said.

"I was afraid it would be too much for her," said Mrs. Brace. "I am sure, my lord, the more I think of it, the more wonderful it seems."

"Yes, it is quite a romance," laughed the earl. But neither he nor those with whom he spoke dreamed how that romance was to end in a tragedy.

The morning being fine, though cold, the earl asked them to visit the conservatories. By this time Doris had come down, and was ready to join them. While they were going through one of the large conservatories, Lady Doris suddenly caught sight of the Indian plant she had admired so much at Downsbury Castle – the plant with scarlet bells and sweet, subtle perfume. She hastened to it, and clasped a spray in her white hands.

"That is like the face of an old friend," she said.

"Why?" asked the earl, amused by the action.

"I saw some flowers like them at Downsbury Castle," she replied.

The earl looked keenly at her.

"Downsbury Castle!" he said. "I know the Duke of Downsbury. What took you there, Doris?"

"What takes half the world everywhere?" she replied. "Curiosity. I wanted so very much to see the interior of a castle, and to see if the people living there really led fairy lives."

"And what did you think?" he asked, still in the same voice.

"I liked it very much; but, papa, I like Linleigh Court better – it is more Italian, with sunshine and flowers everywhere."

"So you saw all the flowers at Downsbury Castle?" he continued, in the tone of one who asks a question.

"Yes, and beautiful enough they were; but I saw something even fairer than the flowers, papa."

"What was that, Doris?"

"I saw – listen gravely – I remember the whole of the name – I saw the Lady Estelle Hereford, only daughter of his serene and mighty highness, the Duke of Downsbury."

He laughed, but there was something forced and unnatural in the sound.

"I know her," he said, trying to speak calmly; "they are very dear friends of mine. What did you think of her, Doris?"

It was wonderful how he learned to appeal to and rely on the judgment of this fair young daughter.

"I thought her perfectly beautiful, perfectly graceful, perfectly gentle, but tame, papa."

"Tame, child! What do you mean?" he asked.

It was such a novel and not over-pleasant sensation for him to hear a mother called "tame" by her daughter, although it was done in supreme ignorance.

"I cannot explain the word, papa, if you cannot understand it by instinct. Earle would if he were here. I liked her very much; but she puzzled me; her face kept changing color: she was proud, yet familiar; haughty, yet gentle. She talked to me about love and marriage, just as Mattie would have talked."

"Poor Estelle!" murmured the earl; then he said aloud: "How would Mattie have talked? Give me an example."

"My lord!" cried Mrs. Brace, in alarm, "I am quite sure that Mattie never said a wrong thing in her life."

"I am equally sure of it," said the earl, kindly.

"Mattie, like Lady Estelle, has great notions, papa – duty and all those disagreeable things were first."

"That is right," said the earl. Even to himself he did not own how the introduction of Lady Estelle's name had startled him.

Doris hastened on among the flowers. Lord Linleigh lingered behind, while he said to Mark and his wife:

"You are tenants of the Duke of Downsbury, are you not?"

"Yes," replied Mark.

"Then I do not mind telling you, in all confidence, that you will probably hear or read something about Lady Hereford and myself which will please you."

Mrs. Brace understood him at once.

"My lord," she said, "I am so sorry that Lady Doris called her tame."

He laughed good-naturedly.

"She speaks her mind frankly," he said, "and that, at least, is a recommendation. Lady Estelle would only be amused if she heard it."

"He means to marry her," said Mark to his wife, as the earl hurried after his daughter; but Mrs. Brace had the strangest expression on her face.

"What is it?" Mark asked. "Surely you are not ill?"

"No, I am not ill; but I will say this, Mark, it is a most awful world – no one can understand it."

"Do as I do, my dear; the world never troubles me, because I take no notice of it."

But that philosophy was not in the way of Mark's wife.

"Doris," said the earl, when he overtook his daughter, "I wish to consult you."

"I am not a very wise person to consult," she replied, with a charming little smile, "but what little wit I have is quite at your service, papa."

"My dear child," he said, "between ourselves, the Studleighs have never been deficient in wit, but there has hardly been one steady head in the whole race."

"That is deplorable enough. We must try to alter it," she said, laughingly. "To begin with, I will steady my own. What do you wish to consult me about, papa?"

"I want to do something substantial and handsome for your foster-parents," he said. "What shall it be?"

"A steam-plow for Mark, and a black satin dress for his wife – that is the highest ambition of both."

"Then you shall present them those gifts. But I mean something substantial. What do you think of a thousand pounds as a dowry for his daughter, and a thousand to be spent in improvements on the farm?"

"I think you are very fortunate to have thousands to spare; and I think also that it is very charming of you to give them so much," she replied.

Lord Linleigh looked wistfully at her.

"Money could never repay such a benefit as Mark Brace and his wife have conferred upon me, Doris," he said. "I am an aristocrat, it is true; but I shall be more proud of reckoning that honest farmer among my friends than I should of calling a king brother."

"That is a very grand sentiment, papa," laughed Doris. "It is almost worth printing in a book. I must confess I would rather have a king for my brother than any man for a friend. I think Mark will be delighted with the steam-plow. After all, what you are pleased to call the benefit they conferred on you was not without its reward. Mark Brace was very fond of me – he always said I made the sunshine of Brackenside."

The earl looked amused at this fashion of making matters straight; but before they went away, he gladdened the hearts of the farmer and his wife.

"A thousand pounds!" said Mark, looking in the most bewildered fashion at the check he held in his hand – "a thousand pounds, my lord, to spend as I like! It is impossible – it cannot be true. I must not take it – I have done nothing to deserve it."

But Lord Linleigh greeted his scruples with:

"You have done for me and my daughter that which few would have done so well," he said.

"I did my duty, my lord – no less, no more; and a thousand pounds for doing my duty is an enormous reward."

But his surprise was redoubled when, added to this, the earl insisted that he should take a thousand pounds for Mattie's dowry, and would not hear of any refusal. Then, indeed, the tears stood, warm and bright, in Mark's eyes, and Mrs. Brace wept like a child. "A dowry for Mattie!" – the brightest hope, the maddest dream they had ever entertained. Mattie to have a fortune! Not that it would make her a wealthy heiress, but it would at least secure her from all want. Let them die now, whensoever Heaven pleased – their daughter would never want.

Lord Linleigh could never forget the thanks that were lavished on him – the gratitude, the warmth of emotion.

"And now," said the earl, "there is one thing more that I wish you to do for me. It relates to my daughter's engagement with Earle Moray."

Mark looked at him with anxious eyes.

"We have been speaking of that, my lord – my wife and I. It may not perhaps seem much of a match for her, now that she is my lady; but if you were to search the wide world over, you would never find any one who loved her so dearly as Earle – no one so honest, so good and true. It will be but a poor chance for her, my lord, if she finds a fortune and loses Earle."

"So I believe," said the earl. "It is about that I wish to speak to you. You will see Earle on your return; tell him from me that the change in my daughter's position need make none in her engagement to him; tell him, from me, that as far as my consent can ratify and approve it, I most freely give that consent. Tell him also that I will do my best to push his fortune."

Mrs. Brace looked at him with grateful approval.

"My lord," she said, in her simple fashion, "they speak truthfully when they call you a noble man."

Lady Doris, proud of her name, her fortune, her position, did not feel quite so pleased when she heard this. It had been all very well when she was Doris Brace – it had been all very well in Florence, when Earle had become tiresome, she had been compelled to repeat her promise of marriage, and pledge herself to him over and over again; but there had been a faint hope in her mind that when she was once with her father, under the shelter of his roof, he would never allow her to fulfill the engagement. She never dreamed that he would chivalrously exact its fulfillment. Still, she was wise enough to be silent, and not say what was in her mind. She had learned that great lesson women so often fail in – when to be silent and when to speak.

When they were once more alone, Mrs. Brace expressed her great sense of the earl's kindness and real goodness. She thought it so noble of him that he should wish the engagement to continue.

"It would break Earle's heart to lose you," she said. "When you went away – abroad, I mean – I thought he would have died."