Ten Thousand a-Year. Volume 3

A day or two afterwards, Lord De la Zouch, having accomplished his benevolent purposes, returned to the Continent, having pledged Mr. Aubrey to communicate with him frequently, and particularly with reference to the progress of the important proceedings which he had caused to be set on foot. The splendid chance which now existed of retrieving his former position, was not allowed by Mr. Aubrey to interfere with his close attention to his professional studies, to which he might yet have to look for the only source of his future subsistence; and he continued his attendance at Mr. Mansfield's chambers with exemplary punctuality and energy. It was not long after Lord De la Zouch's second departure from England, that the melancholy events occurred which have just been narrated—I mean the serious illness of Lord Dreddlington, and the untimely death of Lady Cecilia. The Aubreys had no other intimation of those occurrences than such as they derived from the public papers—from which it appeared that his Lordship's illness had occasioned the fright which had ended in so sad a catastrophe with Lady Cecilia; and that his Lordship's illness had originated in agitation and distress, occasioned by the failure of extensive mercantile speculations into which he had allowed himself to be betrayed by designing persons. In passing down Park Lane, Mr. and Mrs. Aubrey, and Kate, saw a hatchment suspended from the house of Mr. Titmouse; and, some short time afterwards, they saw that bereaved gentleman himself, in the Park, driving a beautiful dark-blue cab, his tiger and he both in mourning—which became them equally. Black greatly alters most people's appearance; but it effected a peculiar change in Mr. Titmouse; the fact being, however, that, desirous of exhibiting even extra marks of respect for the memory of the dear deceased Lady Cecilia, he had put his sandy mustaches and imperial into mourning, by carefully dressing them with Indian ink, which gave a very touching and pensive character indeed to his features.

CHAPTER IX

While Mr. Pounce and Mr. Quod, after their own quaint fashion, are doing decisive battle with each other in a remote corner of the field of action; and while—to change the figure—Mr. Titmouse's pedigree is being subjected to the gloomy, silent, and mysterious inquisition of the ecclesiastical court, let us turn for a moment to contemplate a pitiable figure, a victim of the infernal machinations of Mr. Gammon—I mean the poor old Earl of Dreddlington. He was yet—a month after the death of his unhappy daughter, Lady Cecilia—staggering under the awful shock which he had experienced. Before he had been in any degree restored to consciousness, she had been buried for nearly three weeks; and the earliest notification to him of the melancholy occurrence, was the deep mourning habiliments of Miss Macspleuchan, who scarcely ever quitted his bedside. When, in a feeble and tremulous voice, he inquired as to the cause of his daughter's death, he could get no other account of it—either from Miss Macspleuchan, his physicians, or the Duke of Tantallan—than that it had been occasioned by the shock of suddenly seeing his Lordship brought home seriously ill, she being, moreover, in a very critical state of health. When, at length, he pressed and challenged Miss Macspleuchan upon the matter—viz. the reality of the blighting discovery of Mr. Titmouse's illegitimacy—she resolutely maintained that he was laboring altogether under a delusion—indeed a double delusion; first, as to his imaginary conversation with Mr. Gammon; and secondly, as to his supposed communication of it to Lady Cecilia. Her heart was smitten, however, by the steadfast look of mournful incredulity with which the earl regarded her from time to time; and, when alone, she reproached herself in tears with the fraud she was practising upon the desolate and broken-hearted old man. The duke, however, seconded by the physician, was peremptory on the point, believing that otherwise the earl's recovery was impossible; and as his Grace invaluably joined Miss Macspleuchan in treating the mere mention of the matter as but the figment of a disordered brain, the poor earl was at length silenced if not convinced. He peremptorily prohibited Mr. Titmouse, however, from entering his house—much more from appearing in his presence; and there was little difficulty in making that gentleman seem satisfied that the sole cause of his exclusion was his cruelty and profligacy towards the late Lady Cecilia:—whereas, he knew all the while, and with a sickening inward shudder, the real reason—of which he had been apprised by Mr. Gammon. Very shortly after the earl's illness, the Duke of Tantallan had sent for Mr. Titmouse to interrogate him upon the subject of his Lordship's representations; but Mr. Gammon had been beforehand with the duke, and thoroughly tutored Titmouse—dull and weak though he was—in the part he was to play, and which Mr. Gammon had striven to make as easy to him as possible. The little ape started with well-feigned astonishment, indignation, and disgust, as soon as the duke had mentioned the matter, and said very little—(such were Gammon's peremptory injunctions)—and that little only in expression of amazement—that any one could attach the slightest importance to the mere wanderings of a brain disturbed by illness. 'Twas certainly a ticklish matter, the duke felt, to press too far, or to think of intrusting it to third parties. His Grace very naturally concluded, that what his own superior tact and acuteness had failed in eliciting, could be detected by no one else. He frequently pressed Mr. Gammon, however, upon the subject; but that gentleman maintained the same calm front he had exhibited when first questioned by the duke; giving the same account of all he knew of Titmouse's pedigree—and clinching the matter by sending to his Grace a copy of the brief, and of the short-hand writer's notes of the trial—challenging, at the same time, the most rigorous investigation into every circumstance in the case. It was very natural for the duke, under these circumstances, to yield at length, and feel satisfied that the whole affair rested on no other basis than the distempered brain of his suffering kinsman. Nothing shook his Grace more, however, than the sight of Titmouse: for he looked, verily, one whom it was exceedingly difficult to suppose possessed of one drop of aristocratic blood!—Miss Macspleuchan, a woman of superior acuteness, was infinitely more difficult to satisfy upon the subject than the duke; and though she said little, her manner showed that she was satisfied of the existence of some dreadful mystery or other, connected with Mr. Titmouse, of which Mr. Gammon was master—and the premature discovery of which had produced the deplorable effects upon the earl under which he was at that moment suffering. The earl, when alone with her, and unconscious of her presence, talked to himself constantly in the same strain; and when conversing with her, in his intervals of consciousness, repeated over and over again, without the slightest variation, facts which seemed as it were to have been burned in upon his brain. Miss Macspleuchan had—to conceal nothing from the reader—begun to cherish very warm feelings of attachment to Mr. Gammon; whose striking person, fascinating conversation, and flattering attention to herself—a thing quite unusual on the part of any of the earl's visitors—were well calculated to conduce to such a result. But from the moment of Lord Dreddlington's having made the statement which had been attended by such dreadful consequences, her feelings towards Mr. Gammon had been completely chilled and alienated. Her demeanor, on the few occasions of their meeting, was constrained and distant; her countenance clouded with suspicion, her manners frozen with reserve and hauteur.

Mr. Gammon's first interview with the earl, after his illness and bereavement, had become a matter of absolute necessity—and was at his Lordship's instance; his wishes being conveyed through the Duke of Tantallan, who had intimated to him that it was indeed indispensable, if only to settle some matters of business, of pressing exigency, connected with the failure of the Artificial Rain Company. The duke was with his noble kinsman at the time of Mr. Gammon's calling—having intended to be present at the interview. They awaited his arrival in the earl's library. It is very difficult to describe the feelings with which Mr. Gammon anticipated and prepared for the appointed interview with the man on whom he had inflicted such frightful evil, towards whom he felt that he had acted the part of a fiend. How had he dealt with the absolute and unrestrained confidence which the earl had reposed in him! The main prop and pillar of the earl's existence—family pride—Gammon had snapped asunder beneath him; and as for fortune—Gammon knew that the earl was absolutely ruined. Not, however, that Gammon really felt any commiseration for his victim: his anxiety was only as to how he should extricate himself from liability in respect of it. And had not a man of even his marble heart cause for apprehension, in approaching the earl on that occasion, to be interrogated concerning Titmouse—to look the earl in the face, and deny what had passed between them;—and that, too, when the rigid investigation was pending which might, within a few short weeks, convict and expose him to the scorn—the indignation—of society, as a monster of fraud and falsehood?

The earl sat in his library, dressed in deep black, which hung upon his shrunk attenuated figure, as upon an old skeleton. He looked twenty years older than he had appeared two short months before. His hair, white as snow, his pallid emaciated cheek, his weak and wandering eye, and a slight tremulous motion about his head and shoulders—all showed the mere wreck of a man that he had become, and would have shocked and subdued the feelings of any beholder. What a contrast he presented to the portly and commanding figure of the Duke of Tantallan, who sat beside him, with a brow clouded by anxiety and apprehension! At length—"Mr. Gammon, my Lord," said the servant, in a low tone, after gently opening the door.

"Show him in," said the duke, rather nervously, adding to the earl in a hurried whisper,—"now be calm—my dear Dreddlington—be calm—it will be over in a few minutes' time."—The earl's lips quivered a little, his thin white hands trembled, and his eyes were directed towards the door with a look of most mournful apprehension, as the fiend entered. Mr. Gammon was pale, and evidently nervous and excited; his habitual self-command, however, would have concealed it from any but a practised observer. What a glance was that with which he first saw the earl!—"It gives me deep pain, my Lord," said he, in a low tone, slowly advancing with an air of profound deference and sympathy, "to perceive that you have been so great a sufferer."

"Will you take a chair, sir?" said the duke, pointing to one which the servant had brought for him, and in which Gammon sat down, with a courteous inclination towards the duke; and observing that Lord Dreddlington's face had become suddenly flushed, while his lips moved as if he were speaking, "You see," added his Grace, "that my Lord Dreddlington is but slowly recovering!"—Gammon sighed, and gazed at the earl with an expression of infinite concern.

"Is it true, sir?" inquired the earl, after a moment's interval of silence—evidently with a desperate effort.

Gammon felt both of his companions eying him intently, as he answered calmly—"Alas!—your Lordship of course alludes to that unhappy Company"–

"Is it true, sir?" repeated the earl, altogether disregarding Gammon's attempt at evasion.

"You cannot but be aware, Mr. Gammon, of the subject to which my Lord Dreddlington is alluding"—said the duke, sternly, in a low tone.

"Oh!" exclaimed Gammon, with a slight shrug of his shoulders and a sigh—"I understand that your Lordship is referring to some conversation which you supposed has passed between your Lordship and me concerning Mr. Titmouse!"

"Sir—sir—yes! yes!" gasped the earl, gazing at him intently.

"Well, my Lord, I have heard with inexpressible astonishment that you suppose I told your Lordship that he was illegitimate."

"Ay," said the earl, with tremulous eagerness.

"Oh, my Lord, you are really laboring under as complete a delusion as ever man"—commenced Gammon, with a melancholy smile.

"Sir—Mr. Gammon—do you believe that there is no God?—that He does not know the—the"—interrupted the earl, but ceased, apparently overpowered by his emotions. Gammon looked in appealing silence at the duke.

"What makes you imagine, sir, that I am bereft of reason and memory?" presently inquired the earl, with a strength of voice and manner which alarmed Gammon.

"I cannot account, my Lord, for the extraordinary hallucination which seems"–

"And I suppose, sir, I am equally dreaming about the rent-charge for two thousand a-year, which you have got on the Yatton pro"–

"Oh, pardon—pardon me, my Lord! All pure—absolute delusion and fiction!" interrupted Gammon, with a confident smile, a look, and a tone of voice, which would have staggered the most incredulous.

The earl raised his thin white trembling hand, and pressed it against his forehead for a moment; and then said, turning to the duke—"He would deny that he is now in our presence!"

"My dear Dreddlington—don't, for God's sake, excite yourself," said the duke, anxiously; adding after a pause, "I am as persuaded as I am of my existence, that you're under a complete delusion! Recollect your serious illness—every one is subject to this sort of thing when he's been so ill as you have!"

"Oh, Tantallan! Tantallan!" replied the earl, mournfully shaking his head—"I take God to witness how this man is lying!" The duke glanced hastily at Gammon as these words were uttered, and observed that he had gone suddenly pale, and was in the act of rising from his chair.

"Pray, Mr. Gammon"–commenced the duke, imploringly.

"I can make very great allowance, I assure your Grace, for his Lordship's situation—but there are bounds which I will permit no man living, under any circumstances, to overstep with impunity," said Gammon, calmly but resolutely—overjoyed at obtaining such a pretext for abruptly terminating the embarrassing interview—"and unless his Lordship chooses instantly to retract what he has said, and apologize for it, I will never enter his presence again!"

"Oh—he had better go!" said the earl, feebly, addressing the duke, evidently averting his face from Gammon with disgust and horror.

"Mr. Gammon, pray resume your seat," said the duke, significantly—"You are bound to regard the words as not having been spoken."

"I thank your Grace," replied Gammon, determinedly—"but I require an explicit retractation. I entertain a deep deference towards your Grace, but am also aware of what is due to myself. My Lord," he added, as if at a sudden impulse, addressing the earl, "do permit me to request your Lordship to withdraw and apologize for"–But the earl turned his face aside; and extending his hand towards Gammon, feebly motioned him away; on which, with a low bow to the Duke of Tantallan, Gammon took his hat and moved towards the door.

"Sir—Mr. Gammon—you must not go," said the duke, in an earnest and commanding manner—"you are here on business, of pressing importance—all this must pass away and be forgotten."

"Your Grace I shall be most happy to attend at any time, and anywhere; but this room I quit instantly."

"Then, sir, have the goodness to walk into the next," said the duke, somewhat imperiously, "and I will come to you presently." Mr. Gammon bowed and withdrew.

"Oh God! how atrocious is the conduct of that man!" said the earl, when they were left alone.

"Really, Dreddlington, you must get rid of these—these—absurd notions."

"Let me never see his face again!" replied the earl, feebly. "I have but a short time to live, and that time the sight of him, I feel, makes still shorter!" The duke looked both vexed and embarrassed.

"Come—come—now he's here," continued his Grace, "and on a very important errand—let us have done with the fellow—let us have him back, and I'll tell him you withdraw"–

"Withdraw? He is withdrawn," replied the earl, confusedly.

"What d'ye mean, my dear Dreddlington? I say—let me tell him"–

"I mean, it was at his chambers, in Holborn—I pledge my honor, I recollect as if it were yester"–

"Pho, pho!" cried the duke, rather impatiently—"it must be done! He's come on matters of the very last importance—the thing's been put off to the very latest moment on your account—that cursed Company!" The earl looked up at his companion, and a faint smile flitted over his wasted features.

"Ah—I'm now satisfied," said he, shaking his head—"that they must dig a very great depth, indeed, before they come to the copper." The duke looked puzzled, but said hastily, "That's right!—I'll have him back, and you'll allow me to say it's all a mistake?"

"Certainly—I am satisfied of it."

"That will do, my dear Dreddlington!—That's the way such nonsense should be put an end to," said the duke, and, ringing the bell, ordered the servant to request Mr. Gammon to return. After a brief interval, that gentleman re-entered the library, but with some sternness and reluctance of manner.

"Mr. Gammon," replied the duke, a little quickly, "my Lord Dreddlington owns he was mistaken—he, of course, withdraws the expression—so we had better at once to business"–

"Ay—certainly!—certainly! Have you the papers with you, Mr. Gammon?" inquired the earl, while his trembling fingers held his gold spectacles. Mr. Gammon bowed rather haughtily, and resuming the chair he had quitted, drew it to the table, and opened a little packet.

"It was a ridiculous affair, I am afraid, sir," said the earl, addressing Mr. Gammon, who felt a little surprised at the altered look and tone of the earl.

"I fear it was extremely unfortunate, my Lord, in its issue," he replied gravely, arranging his papers.

"The thing did not look so absurd at first, Tantallan, I assure you!" said the earl, addressing the duke, who was eying Mr. Gammon's movements with much anxiety; for he had come prepared to state the final result of long negotiations between the creditors and the directors and shareholders of the "Artificial Rain Company."

"These things never do—at first," his Grace replied with a sort of sigh.

"Just show us, Mr. Gammon," said the earl, "if you please, the diagrams and the sections of the strata"–

"The what?" inquired the duke, turning surprisedly to the earl—so did Mr. Gammon, and for a moment ceased arranging his papers. Both the duke and he turned pale, and gazed in silent dismay at their companion. Gammon felt momentarily sick at heart. It was evident that Lord Dreddlington's mind had gently given way!—There was a smile of indescribable weakness flickering about the mouth; the eyes were unsteady; all sternness had vanished from his brow; and his manner was calm, with even an approach towards cheerfulness. Gammon's face was suddenly blanched, and he glanced with horror at the duke, who, without removing his eyes from Lord Dreddlington, unconsciously exclaimed, "Oh my God!"

"Is it your Lordship's pleasure"–faltered Gammon, his hands trembling visibly.

"You are right, Tantallan," said Lord Dreddlington, as if suddenly struck by the peculiar look with which the duke continued to regard him. "You shall hear all; but we must be alone. Sir, you may retire, and be in attendance another day," he added, abruptly addressing Gammon, with all his former stateliness of manner, but with a feeble voice. Mr. Gammon, very greatly agitated, hastily put together the documents which he had partially arranged on the table, and with a profound bow withdrew.

"At nine this evening—in Portman Square, sir, if you please," said the duke, tremulously.

"I will attend your Grace," said Gammon, and with not a little trepidation closed the door after him; on which the earl proceeded, in a very anxious and mysterious manner, to intimate the existence of a conspiracy on the part of the Earl of Fitzwalter and others, to prevent his—Lord Dreddlington's—obtaining a marquisate, on the ground that he had been connected with Sir Sharper Bubble in a swindling company; and his Lordship had good grounds for believing that Mr. Gammon was secretly lending his assistance to the undertaking, and his coming there that morning with the papers relating to the intended purchase of the Isle of Dogs, was in furtherance of his treacherous objects! The duke listened in silent dismay to this rambling account of the imaginary conspiracy, and had just determined upon quietly sending for Miss Macspleuchan, when the earl abruptly paused, and after a confused stare at his companion, pressed his hand to his forehead, and said with hesitation and embarrassment—"Pray, Tantallan, don't think anything more about what I have been saying! I—I—feel that I have been talking nonsense—incoherently—Surely it must have struck you so? Eh, Tantallan?"

There was something so imbecile and miserable in the look with which the earl regarded his companion, that the duke for a moment could not reply to him. At length, "My dear Dreddlington," said he, gently grasping his hand, "you are at present only a little excited—you will soon recover yourself. Let us ask Miss Macspleuchan to join us, as she is sitting all alone up-stairs."

"Not just now, Tantallan—I feel I have wandered a little, but all is now right again. He is gone, is he?" The duke nodded. "The sight of that man was at first too much for me; I felt oppressed and confused, but I thought it right to struggle against it!—He denied it all?—Is not that enough to drive a man out of his senses?"

"My dear Dreddlington, we shall get wrong again—let us quit the subject," said the duke, anxiously.

"No," replied the earl, languidly, "do not fear me; I feel quite myself again! I can only repeat to you, that that man's conversation with me about—about"—he shuddered—"as certainly happened, as the heavens are above us!" The earl had really, at all events for the present, recovered from the temporary confusion into which his thoughts had fallen; and proceeded, with as much energy as his shattered condition would admit of, to give the duke, as he had often done before, a distinct and consistent account of all that had taken place at Mr. Gammon's chambers:—and as he went on, it all of a sudden occurred to his Grace, for the first time—how improbable is it that Lord Dreddlington should have invented a scene, which he has uniformly delineated in almost the same words? What but truth and reality could enable him to preserve such a consistency in describing a transaction with such minute circumstantiality? Having once looked at the matter in this new light, every succeeding moment saw him more and more satisfied that such was the true view of it; and before he had quitted his unfortunate kinsman, he had pretty nearly convinced himself of three things; first, that Mr. Titmouse was a hideous little base-born miscreant and impostor; secondly, that Mr. Gammon must be the profoundest scoundrel living; and lastly, that it was very singular that he—the duke—had been so long in arriving at such a conclusion. But then, it subsequently occurred to the sagacious duke—how was he to act? What position was he to assume with Mr. Gammon, when he came, in the evening, in obedience to his Grace's own appointment? What reasons could he assign for his sudden change of opinion? Nothing new had occurred: and he felt a little embarrassed, seeing that all he should be able to say would be that he had at length suddenly taken a different view of facts long well known! At all events, he determined to put the brief of Mr. Titmouse's case, used at the trials, and which Mr. Gammon had some time before forwarded to his Grace's house, into the hands of some eminent lawyer, for a candid and confidential opinion.

Mr. Gammon, on quitting Lord Dreddlington's house, quickly recovered from the momentary shock which he had suffered in the earl's presence; and—shall I record the fact?—all other feelings and all his fears were merged in one of delight and exultation at the awful calamity which had befallen Lord Dreddlington: no one, Mr. Gammon considered, would thenceforth think of attaching the least importance to anything the earl might say, or had said, but would doubtless deem it the mere creation of a disordered brain. Then all that would be necessary, would be the silencing Titmouse—no difficult matter, since even he could comprehend that secrecy was to him a matter of salvation or destruction! But then, again, like a criminal's chance glance at the hideous guillotine or gallows in the distance—a recollection of the ecclesiastical inquiry, at that instant in vigorous action, blanched the cheek of Mr. Gammon, and dashed all his new hopes to the ground. If those infernal inquisitors should discover all, and thereby demonstrate Titmouse's illegitimacy, how perfectly frightful would be the position of Mr. Gammon! What would then avail him the insanity of Lord Dreddlington? Would it not, on the contrary, be then attributed to the right cause—the atrocious cruelty and villany which had been practised upon him? How irretrievably was Gammon committed by his repeated and solemn asseverations to Miss Macspleuchan and the Earl of Dreddlington? The evidence which sufficed to entitle Mr. Aubrey, in preference to Mr. Titmouse, to administer to Lady Stratton, would also suffice to entitle him to an immediate restoration to the Yatton property! And would the matter rest there? Would no steps be taken, in such an event, to fix him—Gammon—as a partner, or a prime mover, in the frauds and conspiracy by which alone, it would then be alleged, Titmouse had been enabled to recover the property? Absorbed by these pleasant contemplations, he was so lost to all around him, that he was within an ace of being crushed to death under the wheels of an enormous coal-wagon, which he had not seen approaching, as he crossed the street. It might, perhaps, have been well had it been so—the accident would certainly have saved him from a "sea of troubles," on which, for aught we can at present see, he may be tossed for the remainder of his life.