Cursed by a Fortune

“Thank you, Mr Garstang,” said Kate, frankly, as she held out her hand to him. “I could not help feeling terribly agitated and ready to reproach myself for taking such a step. You do assure me that I have done right?”

“What, in coming with me, my dear?” he said, after just pressing her hand and dropping it again. “Of course I do. I was a little in doubt about it at first, but my head feels clearer after my nap, and I tell you, as an experienced man, that you have done the only thing you could do under the circumstances. This night journey excites and upsets you a bit, but I’m very much afraid that some of them at Northwood will be far worse, and serve them right.”

“Poor ’Liza will be horror-stricken,” said Kate. “I wish I had begged harder for you to bring her too.”

“Ah, poor woman! I am sorry for her,” said Garstang, thoughtfully; “servants of that devoted nature are very rare. It is an insult to call them servants; they are very dear and valuable friends. But just think a moment, my dear. To have roused her from sleep and told her to dress and come with you – to join you in your flight would have seemed to her then so mad a proceeding that it would have resulted in her alarming the house, or at least in upsetting our project. She would never have let you come.”

“I am afraid you are right,” said Kate, with a sigh.

“I am sure of it, my child; but you must communicate with her at once. She must not be kept in suspense an hour longer than we can help. Let me see, I must contrive some way of getting a letter to her. – Ah, here we are.”

For the train had slowed while they were talking, and was now gliding gently along by the platform of the great dimly lighted station.

A porter sprang on to the footboard as he let down the window.

“Luggage, sir?”

“No. Is the refreshment room open?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That will do, then,” said Garstang, and he slipped a coin into the man’s hand. “Now, then, my dear, we’ll go and have a hot cup of tea at once.”

“I really could not touch any now, Mr Garstang,” said Kate.

“That’s what I daresay you said about your medicine when you were a little girl; but I must be doctor, and tell you that it is necessary to take away that nervous shivering and agitation; and besides, have a little pity on me.”

She smiled faintly as he handed her out of the carriage, and suffered herself to be led to where the cheerless refreshment room was in charge of a couple of girls, who looked particularly sleepy and irritable, but who had been comforting themselves with that very rare railway beverage, a cup of freshly made tea.

“There, I am sure you feel better for that,” said Garstang, as he drew his companion’s arm through his and led her out of the station, ignoring the offers of cabman after cabman. “A nice, little, quick walk will circulate your blood, and then we’ll take a cab and go home.”

She acquiesced, and he took her along at a brisk pace through the gas-lit streets, passing few people but an occasional policeman who looked at them keenly, and the men busy in gangs sweeping the city streets; but at the end of a quarter of an hour he raised his hand to the sleepy looking driver of a four-wheeler, handed his companion in, gave the man his instructions, and then followed, to sit opposite to her, and drew up the window, when the wretched vehicle went off with the glass jangling and jarring so that conversation became difficult.

“There!” said Garstang, merrily; “now, my dear, I am going to confess to a great deal of artfulness and cunning.”

She looked at him nervously.

“This is a miserable cab, and I could have obtained a far better one in the station, but now you have come away it’s to find peace, quiet, and happiness, eh?”

“I hope so, Mr Garstang.”

“Yes, and you shall have those three necessities to a young girl’s life, or John Garstang will know the reason why. So to begin with I was not going to have James Wilton and his unlicked cub coming up to town some time this morning, enlisting the services of a clever officer, who would question the porters at the terminus till he found the man who asked me about luggage, and then gather from that man that he called cab number nine millions and something to drive us away. Then, as they keep a record of the cabs which take up and where they are going, for the benefit of that stupid class of passengers who are always leaving their umbrellas and bags on seats, that record would be examined, number nine millions and something found, questioned, and ready to endorse the entry as to where we were going; and the next thing would have been Uncle James and Cousin Claud calling at my house, insisting upon seeing you, and consequently a desperate row, which would upset you and make me say things again which would cause me to repent. Now do you see?”

“Yes,” she said, gravely; “they will not follow us now.”

“I hope not, but it is of no use to be sure. I am taking every precaution I can; and I shall finish by getting out where I told the man – Russell Square; and we will walk the rest of the way.”

Kate did not speak, for a vague terror was beginning to oppress her, which her companion’s bright cheery way had hard work to disperse.

“It is of no use to be sure about anything, but if they do find out that you have come with me, these proceedings will throw them off the scent. Your uncle does not know that I have a house in Great Ormond Street. Of course he knows of my offices in Bedford Row, and of my place at Chislehurst, where Harry Dasent lives with me – when he condescends to be at home. Come, you seem brighter and more cheerful now, but you will not be right till you have had a good long sleep.”

Very little was said for the rest of the journey, the cab drawing up at the end of the narrow passage close to Southampton Row, where there was no thoroughfare for horses; and after the man was paid, Garstang led his companion along the pavement as if about to enter one of the houses, going slowly till the cab was driven off. Then, increasing his pace, he led the way into the great square, along one side, making for the east, and finally stopped suddenly in front of a grim-looking red-brick mansion in Great Ormond Street – a house which in the gloomy morning, just before dawn, had a prison-like aspect which made the girl shiver.

“Strange how cold it is just before day,” said Garstang, leading the way up the steps, glancing sharply to right and left the while. The next moment a latch-key had opened the ponderous door, and they stood in a great hall dimly seen to be full of shadow, till Garstang struck a match, applied it beneath a glass globe, and revealed the proportions of the place, which were ample and set off by rich rugs, and old oak presses full of blue china, while here and there were pictures which looked old and good.

“Welcome home, my child,” said Garstang, with tender respect. “It looks gloomy now, but you are tired, faint, and oppressed with trouble. This way.”

He led the girl to a door at the foot of a broad staircase, opened it, entered the room, and once more struck a match, to apply it to a couple of great globes held up by bronze figures on the great carved oak mantelpiece, and as the handsome, old-fashioned room lit up, he stopped and applied a match to the paper of a well-laid fire, which began to burn briskly, and added the warmth and glow of its flames and the cheery crackle of the wood to the light shed by the globes.

“There,” he continued, drawing forward a great leather-covered easy chair to the front of the fire, “take off your hat, but keep your cloak on till the room gets warmer. It will soon be right.”

She obeyed, trying to be firm, but her hands trembled a little as she glanced at her strange surroundings the while, to see that the room was heavily but richly furnished, much of the panelled oak wall being taken up by great carved cabinets, full of curious china, while plates and vases were ranged abundantly on brackets, or suspended by hooks wherever space allowed. These relieved the heaviness of the thick hangings about a stained-glass window and over the doors, lying in folds upon the thick Persian carpet, while as the fire burned up a thousand little reflections came from the glaze of china, and wood polished as bright as hands could make it.

“You did not know I was quite a collector of these things, my dear. I hope you will take an interest in them by-and-by. But to begin with, let me say this – that I hope you will consider this calm old house your sanctuary as well as home, that you are its mistress as long as you please, and give your orders to the servants for anything that seems to be wanting.”

“You are very good to me, Mr Garstang,” faltered Kate, who felt that the vague terror from which she had suffered was dying away.

“Good? Absurd! Now, then, you will not mind being left alone for a few minutes? I am going to awaken my housekeeper and her daughter. Rather an early call.”

As he spoke a great clock over the mantelpiece began to chime musically, and was followed by the hour in deep, rich, vibrating tones.

“It’s a long time since I was up at five in the morning,” said Garstang, cheerily. “Hah! a capital fire soon. Becky is very clever at laying fires. You will find her and her mother rather quaint, but they are devoted to me. Excellent servants. I never see anyone else’s house so clean. There, I shall not be long.”

He smiled at her pleasantly, and left the room, while, as the door closed, and the heavy folds of the portiere dropped down, Kate sank back in her chair, and the tears which had been gathering for hours fell fast. Then she drew herself up with a sigh, and hastily wiped her eyes, as if relieved and prepared to meet this new change of fate.

Garstang’s few minutes proved to be nearly a quarter of an hour, during which, after a glance or two round the room, Kate sat thinking, with her ideas setting first in one direction, then ebbing in the other, the feeling that she had done wrong predominating; but her new guardian’s reappearance changed their course again, and she could feel nothing but gratitude to one whose every thought seemed to be to make her position bearable.

“I could not be cross with them,” he said, as he entered; “but it is an astonishing thing how people who have neither worry nor trouble in the world can sleep. Now those two have nothing on their minds but the care of this house, which came to me through an old client, and in which I very seldom live! and I believe they pass half their time drowsing through existence. If the truth were known, they were in bed by nine o’clock last night, and they were so soundly asleep that the place might have been burned down without their waking.”

“It seems a shame to disturb them,” said Kate, with a faint smile.

“What? Not at all, my child. Do them good; they want rousing out of their lethargy. I have told them to prepare a bedroom for you, and I should advise you to retire as soon as they say it is ready. There is no fear of damp, for the rooms are constantly having fires in them, and Sarah Plant is most trustworthy. Go and have a good long sleep, and some time in the afternoon we will have a discussion on ways and means. You will have to go shopping, and I shall have to play guardian and carry the parcels. By the way, you will want some money. Have you any?”

“I have a few pounds, Mr Garstang.”

“Perhaps that will do for the present; if not, please bear in mind that you have unlimited credit with your banker. I am that banker till you can declare yourself independent, so have no compunction whatever about asking for what you need Is there anything more that I can do for you?”

“No, Mr Garstang; only to contrive a way of getting Eliza here.”

“Oh, yes, of course, I will not forget that; but we must be careful. We don’t want any more quarrelling. It is bad for you, and it upsets me. Ah, they’re ready.”

For at that moment there was a soft tapping at the door.

“Your bedroom is the one over this, and I hope you will find it comfortable. No trees to look out upon; no flowers; no bright full moon; plenty of bricks, mortar, and chimney-pots; but there are rest and peace for you, my child; so go, and believe that I am ready to fight your battles and to make you happy here. I can if you will only help.”

“I shall try, Mr Garstang,” she said, with a faint smile.

“Then c’est un fait accompli,” he replied, holding out his hand. “Good-night – I mean, good morning. Sarah is waiting to show you to your room.”

She placed her hand in his for a few moments, and then with heart too full for words she hurried to the door and passed through into the hall, to find a strange-looking, dry, elderly woman standing on the skin mat at the foot of the stairs, holding a massive silver bedroom candlestick in her hand, and peering at her curiously, but ready to lower her eyes directly.

“This way, please, miss,” she said, in a lachrymose tone of voice; and she began to ascend the low, wide, thickly-carpeted stairs, holding the candle before her, and showing her gaunt, angular body against a faint halo of light.

Kate followed, wondering, and feeling as if she were in a dream, while Garstang was slowly walking up and down among his cabinets, rubbing his hands softly, and smiling in a peculiar way.

“Promises well,” he said softly; “promises well, but I have my work cut out, and I have not reckoned with Harry Dasent yet.”

He stopped short, thinking, and then involuntarily raised his eyes, to find that he was exactly opposite a curious old Venetian mirror, which reflected clearly the upper portion of his form.

He started slightly, and then stood watching the clearly seen image of his face, ending by smiling at it in a peculiar way.

“Not so very old yet,” he said softly; “a woman is a woman, and it only depends upon how you play your cards.”

“But there is Harry. Ah, I must not reckon without him.”

Chapter Twenty Five

Kate’s conductress had stopped at a door on the first floor, above which an old portrait hung, so that when the woman held the candle which she carried above the level of her head, the bodily and mentally weary girl felt that two people were peering cautiously at her, and she gladly entered the old-fashioned, handsomely-furnished room, and stood by the newly-lit fire, which, with the candles lit on the chimney-piece and dressing-table, gave it a cheerful welcoming aspect.

She could not have explained why, but the aspect of the woman would suggest dead leaves, and the saddened plaintive tone of her voice brought up the sighing of the wind in the windows of the old house at Northwood.

“I took some of the knobs of coal off, miss, for Becky always will put on too much,” said the woman plaintively, as she took her former attitude, holding the candle on high, and gazed at the new-comer. “I always say to her that when she gets married and pays for coals herself she’ll know what they cost, though I don’t know who’d marry her, I’m sure. I’ll put ’em back if you like.”

“There will be plenty of fire – none was needed,” said Kate, wearily. “I only want to rest.”

“Of course you do, miss,” said the woman, still watching her, with face wrinkled and eyes half closed. “And you needn’t be afraid of the bed. Everything’s as dry as a bone. Becky and me slep’ in it two nights ago. We sleep in a different bed every night so as to keep ’em all aired, as master’s very particular about the damp.”

“Thank you; I am sure you have done what is necessary,” said Kate, who in her low nervous state was troubled by the woman’s persistent inquiring stare.

“Is there anything I can do for you, miss?”

“Thank you, no. I am very tired, and will try and sleep.”

“Because I can soon get you a cup of tea, miss.”

“Not now, thank you. In the morning. I will not trouble you now.”

“It’s to-morrow morning a’ready, my dear, and nothing’s a trouble to me,” said the woman, despondently, “’cept Becky.”

“Thank you very much, but please leave me now.”

“Yes, miss, of course. There’s the bells: one rings upstairs and the other down, so it will be safest to ring ’em both, for it’s a big house – yes,” she continued, thoughtfully, “a very big house, and there’s no knowing where Becky and me may be.”

“Ah,” sighed Kate, as at last she was relieved from the pertinacious curious stare, for the door had closed; but as she sank wearily in a lounge chair the housekeeper seemed photographed upon her brain, and one moment she was staring at her with candle held above her head, the next it was the face of the handsome woman above the door, peering inquiringly down as if wondering to see her there.

The candles burned brightly and the fire crackled and blazed, and then there was a peculiar roaring sound as of the train rushing along through the black night; the room grew darker, and shrank in its proportions till it was the gloomy first-class carriage, with the oil washing to and fro in the thick glass bubble lamp, while John Garstang sat back in the corner, and Kate started up, to shake her head and stare about her wonderingly, as she mentally asked herself where she was, and shivered as she recognised the fire, and the candles upon the mantelpiece.

She glanced round at the turned-down bed, looking inviting beneath the thick dark hangings, and felt that it would be better to lie down and rest, but thought that she would first fasten the door.

She rose, after waiting for a few moments to let her head get clearer, and walked on over the soft carpet toward the dark door, which kept on receding as she went, while the power seemed to be given her to see through it as if it were some strange transparency. Away beyond it was John Garstang, waving her on towards him, always keeping the same distance off, till it grew darker and darker, and then lighter, for the fire was blazing up and the wood was crackling, as there was the sound of a poker being placed back in the fender; and there, as she opened her eyes widely, stood the woman with the chamber candlestick held high above her head, gazing at her in the former inquiring way.

“It is a part of a nightmare-like dream,” said Kate to herself; “my head is confused with trouble and want of rest;” and as in a troubled way she lay back in the chair, she fully expected to see the face of the woman give place to that over the door, and then to John Garstang moving slowly on and on and beckoning her to come away from Northwood Manor House, where her aunt and uncle were trying to hurry her off to the church, where Claud was waiting, and Doctor Leigh and his sister stood in deep mourning, gazing at her with reproachful eyes.

As her thoughts ran in that way she mentally pictured everything with a vividness that was most strange, and she was rapidly gliding back into insensibility when the woman spoke, and she started back, with her head quite clear, while a strange feeling of irritability and anger made her features contract.

“Awake, miss?” said the woman, plaintively.

“Yes, yes; why did you come back? I will ring when I want you – both bells.”

“There was the fire, miss; I couldn’t let that go out I was obliged to come every hour, and I left it too long now, and had to start it with a bundle of wood.”

Kate sat up and stared back at her, then round the room, to see that the candles were burning – four – on mantelpiece and dressing-table.

“Didn’t hear me set the fresh ones up, miss, did you?” said the woman, noticing the direction of her eyes. “T’others only burned till twelve.”

“Burned till twelve – come every hour? Why, what time is it?”

“Just struck three, miss. Breakfast will be ready as soon as you are; but you’d ha’ been a deal better if you’d gone to bed. I did put you a clean night-dress, and it was beautifully aired. Becky held it before the kitchen fire ever so long, for it only wanted poking together and burned up well.”

“I – I don’t understand,” faltered Kate. “Three o’clock?”

“Yes, miss; and as black as pitch outside. Reg’lar London fog, but master’s gone out in it all the same. He said he’d be back to dinner, and you wasn’t to be disturbed on no account, for all you wanted was plenty of sleep.”

“Then I have been thoroughly asleep?”

“Yes, miss; about ten hours I should say; but you’d have been a deal better if you’d gone to bed. It do rest the spine of your back so.”

Kate rose to her feet, staggered slightly, and caught at the chair back, but the giddy sensation passed off, and she walked to the window.

“Can’t see nothing out at the back, miss,” said the woman, shaking her head, sadly. “Old master hated the tiles and chimney-pots, and had double windows made inside – all of painted glass, but you couldn’t see nothing if they weren’t there. It’s black as night, and the fog comes creeping in at every crack. What would you like me to do for you, miss?”

“Nothing, thank you.”

“Then I’ll go and see about the breakfast, miss. I s’pose you won’t be long?”

Kate drew a deep breath of relief once more, and trying to fight off the terrible sensation of depression and strangeness which troubled her, she hurried to the toilet table, which was well furnished, and in about half-an-hour went out on to the broad staircase, which was lit with gas, and glanced round at the pictures, cabinets, and statues with which it was furnished. Then, turning to descend, she was conscious of the fact that she was not alone, for, dimly seen, there was a strange, ghastly-looking head, tied up with a broad white handkerchief, peering round the doorway of another room, but as soon as its owner found that she had attracted attention she drew back out of sight, and Kate shuddered slightly, for the face was wild and strange in the half-light.

The staircase looked broader and better as she descended to the room into which she had been taken on her arrival, and found that it was well lit, and a cheerful fire blazing; but she had hardly had time to glance round when the woman appeared at the door.

“Breakfast’s quite ready, miss,” she said. “Will you please to come this way?”

She led the way across the hall, but paused and turned back to a door, and pushed it a little way open.

“Big lib’ry, miss. Little lib’ry’s upstairs at the back-two rooms. There’s a good fire here. Like to see it now?”

“No, not now.”

“This way then, miss,” and the woman threw open a door on the other side.

“Dining-room, miss. There ain’t no drawing-room; but master said this morning that if you wished he’d have the big front room turned into one. I put your breakfast close to the fire, for it’s a bit chilly to-day.”

Kate thought she might as well have said “to-night,” as she glanced round the formal but richly furnished room, with its bright brass fireplace, and breakfast spread on a small table, and looking attractive and good.

“I made you tea, miss, because I thought you’d like it better; but I’ll soon have some coffee ready if you prefer it. Best tea, master’s wonderfully particular about having things good.”

“I prefer tea,” said Kate, quietly, as she took her place, feeling more and more how strange and unreal everything appeared.

And now the magnitude of the step she had taken began to obtrude itself, mingled with a wearying iteration of thoughts of Northwood, and what must have been going on since the morning when her flight was first discovered. Her uncle’s anger would, she knew, be terrible! Then her cousin! She could not help picturing his rage when he found that she had escaped him. What would her aunt and the servants think of her conduct? And then it was that there was a burning sensation in her cheeks, as her thoughts turned to Leigh and his sister, the only people that during her stay at Northwood she had learned to esteem.

And somehow the burning in her cheeks increased till the tears rose to her eyes, when, as if the heat was quenched, she turned pale with misery and despair, for she felt how strongly that she had left behind in Jenny Leigh one for whom she had almost unknowingly conceived a genuine sisterly affection.

From that moment the struggle she had been having to seem calm, and at home, intensified, and she pushed away cup and saucer and rose from the table, just as the housekeeper, who had been in and out several times, reentered.

“But you haven’t done, miss?” she said, plaintively.

“Yes, thank you; I am not very well this morning,” said Kate, hastily.

“As anyone could see, miss, with half an eye; but there’s something wrong, of course.”