She had great faith in Anthony Pennell, not only in his genius which was an accepted thing, but in his good sense which is not usually found associated with the higher quality. He was a man of about thirty, with a grand intellect—a sound understanding—a liberal mind, and a sympa-thetic disposition. He had been originally intended for the Bar, but having “taken silk” and made a most promising debut, he had suddenly blossom-ed into an author and his first novel had taken London by storm. He had accomplished the rare feat of being lifted up at once on the waves of public opinion and carried over the heads of all his fellows.
Since his first success he had continued writing—had given up the law in consequence—and was now making a large and steady income.
But Anthony Pennell’s great charm lay in his unassuming manner and modest judgment of his own work. His triumphs were much more astonishing to him than to his friends. In person he was less handsome than his cousin Ralph Pullen but much more manly looking, having been a distinguished athlete in his College days, and still finding his best recreation on the cricket field and the golf ground. He was very fair, with a white skin, embrowned here and there by sun and out door exercise—short, curly hair—a fine figure, standing six foot high and the bluest of blue eyes. He was smoking in his own chambers late that afternoon, when he received a telegram from Margaret Pullen, “Can you come over this evening?” and as soon as he had changed his lounging coat he obeyed her summons.
- CHAPTER XII -
Anthony Pennell was a very fresh, pleasant and good-looking pre-sentment of a young English gentleman as he entered the room where Margaret was sitting with Doctor Phillips that evening. It had been arranged between them beforehand that as little as need be should be confided to him of Harriet Brandt’s former history. All that was necessary for him to know was the danger that threatened to blast the future happiness of Ralph Pullen and Elinor Leyton.
“Well! Mrs. Pullen,” he said, as he shook hands cordially with Margaret and the doctor, “and what important business is it that you want to consult me upon? I thought, at the very least, that I should meet my cousin Arthur here!”
“If I had had Arthur, perhaps I should not have needed you,” replied Margaret, with a faint smile. “But really Mr. Pennell, I am in want of advice sorely, and the Doctor agreed with me that you would be the best person to whom I could apply!”
“I am at your service, Madam!” said the young man, gaily, as he seated himself.
Then she told him the story of Harriet Brandt—how Ralph had met her at the Lion d’Or and devoted his time to her—and how she was persecuting him with letters and had threatened to follow him to the Camp and interview him there.
“And it must be put a stop to, you know, Mr. Pennell,” she concluded, “not only for Ralph’s sake and Elinor’s, but for the sake of the Waltham-stowes and my husband. I am sure that Arthur would be exceedingly annoyed at any scandal of that sort, and especially as Lord Walthamstowe is so old a friend of his family!”
Anthony Pennell had looked very grave during her recital. After a pause he said, “Are you sure that Ralph has not given this young lady good cause to run after him?”
“I think not—I hope not! There was very little amusement in Heyst, and this girl and the people with whom she is now staying—a Baron and Baroness Gobelli they call themselves—were amongst the visitors to the Lion d’Or. Miss Leyton is rather a stickler for the proprieties and used to refuse to walk out with Ralph alone in the evenings, and I was too much occupied with my poor darling baby to accompany them,” said Margaret in a faltering voice. “So Ralph took to going to the Baroness’s private rooms instead and became intimate with Miss Brandt!”
“You acknowledge then, that he was intimate with her!”
“I think he must have been—because it appears that he had agreed to join their party at Brussels when—when—my great trouble obliged him to return to England with us instead.”
“Did you know this young lady, Mrs. Pullen?”
“I did, and at one time I was rather intimate with her, that is, before the Baroness took her up, when she passed almost all her time with them.”
“She is, I suppose, very attractive in person?”
“O! dear no, not at all!” cried Margaret, with a woman’s dull appre-ciation of the charms of one of her own sex, “she has fine eyes and what men would, I suppose, call a good figure, but no complexion and an enormous mouth. Not at all pretty, but nice-looking at times—that is all!”
“Clever?” said Pennell, interrogatively.
“I do not think so! She had just come out of a Convent school and was utterly unused to society. But she has a very good voice and plays well on the mandoline!”
“Ladies are not always the best judges of their own sex,” remarked Anthony turning to Doctor Phillips, “what do you say, Doctor? Had you an opportunity of appraising Miss Brandt’s beauties and accomplishments for yourself?”
“I would rather say nothing, Mr. Pennell,” replied the Doctor. “The fact is, I knew her parents in the West Indies and could never believe in anything good coming from such a stock. Whatever the girl may be, she inherits terrible proclivities, added to black blood. She is in point of fact a quadroon and not fit to marry into any decent English family!”
“O! dear!” exclaimed Mr. Pennell laconically,
“And how do you expect me to help you?” he enquired, after a pause.
“I want you to see the Baroness, or Miss Brandt, and tell them that this girl must cease all communication with Captain Pullen,” said Margaret, “tell them that he is engaged to marry Miss Leyton—that the marriage is fixed to take place next spring and that the Walthamstowe family will be excessively annoyed if any scandal of this sort occurs to break it off.”
“Do they not know that such an engagement exists?”
“No! that is the unfortunate part of it! Elinor Leyton is so absurdly scrupulous that she will not have the fact made public and forbade me to tell Miss Brandt about it! Elinor went to the Red House where Miss Brandt is staying this morning and had a most stormy interview with her. She came here afterwards in a most distressed state of mind. Harriet Brandt had told her that she had secured Ralph Pullen and meant to keep him—that he had told her he loved her—and that Miss Leyton was too cold and prudish a nature for any man to be happy with! Of course Elinor was terribly upset. She seldom shews her feelings but it was quite impossible for her to disguise them today. I begged her to leave the matter in my hands and she consented to do so. That is why I telegraphed for you.”
“It is rather an awkward predicament!” said Anthony Pennell thoughtfully, “you will forgive me for saying, Mrs. Pullen, that Ralph is so very likely to have done this sort of thing that I feel one might be treading on very delicate ground—in fact, putting one’s foot in it—by interfering. You know what Ralph is—selfish and indolent and full of vanity. He considers it far too much trouble to make love (as it is called) to a woman but he will accept any amount of love that is offered him so long as it gives him no trouble. If this Miss Brandt is all that you and the doctor here say of her, she may possibly have drawn Ralph on and taken his languid satisfaction as proof that he agreed to all she said and did. But it will make the dénouement just as unpleasant. Besides, how will Ralph himself take my interference in the matter? He may have some designs on this girl—some ideas in the future connected with her—and will ask what business I had to come between them.”
“O! no! Did I not tell you that he had left her letters in his grate?”
“That might be part of his indolent carelessness, or they may have been left there by design, as a means of breaking the ice between himself and Miss Leyton. Is not he, after all, the most proper person to appeal to? Why not wait till your husband returns and let him speak to his brother?”
“I am so afraid in that case that Ralph might consider that he had gone too far with Miss Brandt, and honour demanded that he should marry her! And, Mr. Pennell, Doctor Phillips could tell you thi
ngs, if he chose, to prove to you that Harriet Brandt is not a fit wife for any decent man.”
Anthony Pennell thought again for a few minutes—sitting silent with his hand caressing his smooth chin. Then he said:
“If you are very much bent on my doing what I can in this matter, I see only one way to accomplish it. I must enter the Red House under a flag of truce. Did you know this Baroness Gobelli? Can you tell me what sort of woman she is? I never heard the name before!”
“She is quite a character,” replied Margaret, “I believe her husband is a German Baron, but she was a Mrs. Bates and is an extraordinary Baron-ess. A strange mixture also of vulgarity and refined tastes. She drops all her aspirates yet talks familiarly of aristocratic and royal titles, she dresses like a cook out on Sundays and yet has a passion for good paintings and old china.”
At the last words, Anthony Pennell pricked up his ears.
“A passion for old china!” he exclaimed, “then there must be some good in her! Cannot you give me an introduction to the Red House on the plea that I am a connoisseur and am desirous of seeing her collection?”
“Of course I can, but how can you approach these people in amity with a censure of Miss Brandt’s conduct in your hand? Madame Gobelli is infatuated with Harriet Brandt! I was telling poor Elinor only this after-noon that I should not be at all surprised if she were at the bottom of all this unpleasantness.”
“She could not be at the bottom of anything unless Ralph had given her cause,” replied Mr. Pennell, who had never had a good opinion of his cousin’s straightforward dealing, “and however it may turn out I should think he would have a heavy reckoning to settle with Miss Leyton! This is not the first time remember! You have not forgotten the trouble Arthur had to get him out of that scrape with the laundress’s girl at Aldershot the year before last!”
“Yes! Arthur told me about it,” replied Margaret. “But you are going to help us this time, Mr. Pennell, are you not?”
“In so far as procuring an introduction to the Baroness and taking my opportunity to let her know the true state of affairs with Miss Leyton, yes,” said Mr. Pennell. “But there my responsibility must cease. Should Ralph have committed himself in writing, or anything of that sort, you must promise to let them fight it out their own way. I daresay there will be no trouble about the matter. I can see how it has occurred at a glance. Ralph has been merely amusing himself with the girl and she has taken his philandering in earnest. But I wish he would leave that sort of thing off. It will ruin his married life if he does not!”
“Yes! indeed, and Elinor Leyton really loves him, more, I am sure, than he imagines. She declared this afternoon that if it were not put a complete stop to she should break off her engagement. And I think she would be right!”
“So do I,” acquiesced Anthony Pennell. “Well! if these people are ordinarily decent they will, as soon as they hear the truth, prevent their young friend interfering with another woman’s rights. Write me the introduction, Mrs. Pullen, and I will pay the Red House a visit as soon as its owner gives me leave. And now let us talk of something pleasanter. How soon do you expect Arthur to arrive?”
“Any day,” replied Margaret, “and I am longing so for him to come!”
“Of course you are! Will he remain long in England?”
“Only a few weeks! He has taken three months’ leave. Then, I shall return with him to Hoosur.”
“And you like the idea of India?”
“O! anything—anything—to find myself with him again,” she answered feverishly.
The conversation turned upon more indifferent subjects, and armed with the note of introduction to the Baroness, Anthony Pennell presently took his leave. He did not like the task imposed upon him, and he hardly knew how he should set about it, but on consideration he thought he could do no harm by having a look at the young lady who had taken the fancy of his fickle-minded cousin Ralph, and leaving his future action to be decided by the interview. He sat down therefore before turning into bed and wrote a note to the Baroness enclosing the introduction from Mrs. Pullen, and asking permission to call and inspect her rare collection of china, of which he had heard so much.
His letter reached the Red House on the following morning, at an unfortunate moment, when Madame Gobelli was giving full display to the worst side of her eccentric character.
The Baroness was not a lover of animals, either dogs or horses. She was merciless to the latter and the former she kicked whenever they came in her way. It was considered necessary, however for the safety of the Red House, that it should be guarded by a watch-dog and a miserable retriever, which answered to that name, lived in a rotten cask in the stable yard. This unhappy animal, which had neither sufficient food, exercise, nor straw to lie on, was in the habit of keeping up a continuous baying at night in remonstrance at the cruelty of its treatment, which was a cause of annoyance to the neighbours who had often written to the Baroness about it in vain.
On the morning in question a Captain Hill, who lived on one side the Red House with his parents, sent in his card to Madame Gobelli and asked for an interview. She admitted him at once. She liked men of all sorts and particularly if they were young and she could kiss them with impunity under the pretence that she was old enough to be their mother. She therefore welcomed Captain Hill quite amiably. She came in from the garden to receive him, attired in a Genoa velvet dress that trailed half a yard on the damp ground behind and a coarse Zulu hat perched on her large bullet head. She was attended by Harriet Brandt, who had been making a tour of the premises with her, and was always eager to see anybody who might call at the Red House, Miss Wynward also, who was dusting the china with a feather brush as the visitor was announced, continued her occupation and without apologising for doing so or asking leave.
Harriet had not yet been able to determine the exact place which this lady held in the Baroness’s household, for she was treated as one of the family, and yet degraded at times to the position of a servant.
The Baroness expected her to cook, or dust rooms, or darn stockings, or do anything required of her, whilst she introduced her to all her friends as if on a perfect equality with themselves. As she entered the drawing-room through one of the French windows she shook hands familiarly with Captain Hill and introduced him to both her companions.
“Well!” she went on, “and so you’ve come to see us at last! I thought you were going to live and die in that tumble-down old place of yours without so much as a shake of the ’and! I ’ope you’re all well at ’ome!”
The stranger did not seem to know how to receive these civilities. He had not seated himself but stood in the centre of the room with his hat in his hand as though he found a difficulty in stating his errand at the Red House.
“Take a chair,” said Madame Gobelli in her rough way, “there’s enough and to spare, and my young friend ’ere, won’t eat you!”
Still Captain Hill deliberated about accepting her offer.
“Thank you,” he commenced, “but I shall not detain you above a few moments. I came to speak to you about your dog, Madame Gobelli. My parents are both very old, and my mother especially delicate—indeed, I fear that she may never rise from her bed again!”
Here his voice faltered a little, but quickly recovering himself he went on, “She sleeps very little, and that little has now become impossible to her on account of the incessant barking of your yard dog. I am here to-day by the wish of my mother’s medical attendant, Doctor Parker, to tell you that the noise is seriously affecting her health, and to beg that you will adopt some measures to have the annoyance stopped.”
As the Baroness understood the reason for which her neighbour had called upon her, her countenance palpably changed. The broad smile faded from her face and was replaced by an ominous frown. If there was one thing which she resented above another, it was being called to task for any disturbance in her household. Without taking any notice apparently of Captain Hill’s complaint, she turned to Miss Wynward and said, �
��Miss Wynward, come ’ere! Does that dog bark at night?”
“Sometimes, my lady,” replied the governess dubiously.
“I don’t believe it! You’re lying! ’Arriet, does Nelson ever bark so as to disturb anyone?”
“He barks whenever there is a ring at the bell, or a stranger enters the grounds, Madame,” said Harriet, with politic evasion.
“O! I assure you he does more than that!” interposed the visitor, “the poor animal howls without ceasing. Either he is ill or the servants do not give him sufficient food!”
But at this censure cast upon her domestics, whom she bullied from morning till night, the Baroness’s uncontrolled temper burst forth.
“’Ow dare you come ’ere,” she exclaimed loudly, “and bring false accusations against my servants? No one in this ’ouse is kept short of food. What do you mean—a rubbishing fellow like you—by coming ’ere and accusing the Baron of starving ’is animals? There’s more money spent upon our animals, I bet, than goes in your poverty-stricken ’ouse-’old in a year!”
Captain Hill was now offended, as he well might be. “I do not know what knowledge you may possess of the exigencies of my parents’ household, Madam,” he replied, “but what I came here to tell you is this—that from whatever cause it may arise, the howling and whining of your dog is a public nuisance and it must be stopped!”
“Must, must!” exclaimed Madame Gobelli, shaking her stick at him, “and pray ’oo’s to make me stop it?”
“I will,” said Captain Hill, “the noise is endangering the life of my mother and I shall insist upon the animal being destroyed or taken elsewhere. If you cannot take a friendly hint—if you have so callous a nature that the sufferings of an aged and invalid lady cannot excite your sympathy, the law shall teach you that whatever you may fail to feel, you cannot annoy your neighbours with impunity!”
“Fine neighbours indeed!” cried the Baroness, her whole face trembling and contorted with passion. “A beggarly lot of half-pay officers and retired parsons! I’ll soon see if you’ll be allowed to come riding the ’igh ’orse over me! Confound your impudence! Do you know ’oo I am?”
The Blood of the Vampire Page 21