CHAPTER XIII.
MISS ARTHUR'S FRENCH MAID.
After this the days flew by very much alike.
Miss Arthur's maid arrived, and proved indeed a treasure, nor was sheas obnoxious to Mr. John Arthur as he had evidently intended to findher. Perhaps Celine Leroque knew by instinct that the master of Oakleycherished an aversion to French maids in particular; or perhaps shewas an exceptional French maid, and craved neither the smiles norslyly administered caresses, that fell to the lot of pretty _femmes dechambre_, at least in novels. At any rate, certain it is that MissArthur's maid manifested no desire to be seen by the inmates of thehousehold, and she had been domiciled for some weeks without havingvouchsafed to either John Arthur or Lucian Davlin more than a fleetingglimpse of her maidship.
Things were becoming very monotonous to some of the occupants of theOakley manor; very, very dull and flavorless.
Cora was growing restless. Not that the astute lady permitted signs ofdiscontent to become manifest to the uninitiated, but Lucian Davlinsaw, with a mingled feeling of satisfaction and dismay, that the_role_ of devoted wife had ceased to interest his blonde comrade ininiquity.
The fact gave him a malicious pleasure because, as fate had dared toplay against him, he would have felt especially aggrieved if a fewthorns had not been introduced into the eider down that seeminglyenveloped his fair accomplice.
But he felt some dismay, for he knew by the swift flash of azure eyesunder golden lashes, by the sway of her shoulders as she paced theterrace, by the nervous tapping of her slippered foot at certain timesin the intervals of table chat--that Cora was _thinking_. And whenCora thought, something was about to happen.
It was in obedience to one of those swift side glances, that hefollowed her from the morning room, one forenoon about three weeksafter the news of Madeline's death had come to them. The day wasbright but chill, and the woman had wrapped herself in a shawl ofvivid crimson, but stood with bared head in the sunlight waiting theapproach of her counterfeit brother.
"Cover your head, you very thoughtless woman," was his brotherlysalutation as he approached, plunging about in his pockets in searchof a cigar the while.
"Bother!" she ejaculated, tossing her golden locks; "my hair needs asunbath. I only wish I dare indulge myself further! If you had anyheart you wouldn't torture me so constantly with the odor of thosemagnificent Havanas, when you know how my very soul longs for a weed!"
"Poor little woman," laughing maliciously; "fancy Mrs. John Arthur ofOakley smoking a _Perique_! Isn't it prime, Co.?" puffing out a cloudof perfumed smoke.
"Prime! bah! I'd like to strangle you, or--"
"Or?--" inquiringly.
"Somebody," laughing nervously.
"Just so; Miss Arthur would be a good subject and that would confer afavor on me, too, by Jove!"
"I don't want to confer a favor on you. You had much better try and dome one, I think."
"With all my heart, taking my ability for granted, of course; onlytell me how."
Cora shrugged her crimson-clad shoulders, and they paced forward insilence for a time. Then as if his stillness had been speech of adistasteful kind, she ejaculated, crossly, and without turning herhead: "Stuff! you talk too much!"
Lucian smiled maliciously, removed his cigar from between his lips,described a smoke wreath in mid-air, replaced his weed, and said: "DoI? then mum's the word;" and he relapsed into silence.
He seemed bent on annoying her, for there was a laughing glimmer inhis eye, and he obstinately refused to attempt to draw her out, and somake easier whatever she might have to say, for he knew that she hadsignaled him out to-day for a purpose.
Mutely he walked by her side, and contentedly puffed at his cigaruntil, at length, she turned upon him, and struck petulantly at thehand that had just removed it from his lips. The weed fell from hisfingers to the ground, and Cora set her slippered heel upon it, as ifit were an enemy, and laughed triumphantly.
"Now we are on a level," she cried. "Do you suppose I intend to giveyou that advantage over me?"
"It seems not," with a shrug expressive of resignation and a smilehidden by his mustache.
He was not the man to be angered, or even ruffled, by these littlefeminine onslaughts. In fact, they rather pleased and amused him, andhe had become well accustomed to Cora's "little ways," as he calledthem. Deprived of his cigar, he thrust his hands into his pockets andwhistled softly.
"Lucian, if you don't stop looking so comfortable, and content, andaltogether don't-care-ish, I shall do something very desperate," sheexclaimed, pettishly.
"No?" raising his eyebrows in mock incredulity; "you don't tell me. Ithought you were in a little heaven of your own, Mrs. Arthur."
"Oh! you did? Very clever of you. Well, Mr. Davlin, has it occurred toyou that heaven might not be a congenial climate for me?"
"Not while your wings are so fresh, surely? You have scarcely enteredyour paradise, fair peri."
"Haven't I?" ironically. "Well, I am tired of manna, anyhow." Cora wasnot always strictly elegant in her choice of expressions. "Now,Lucian, stop parleying, and tell me, when is this going to end?"
"When?"
He stopped and looked down at her intently. Twice they had traversedthe terrace, and now they paused at the termination furthest from thehouse. Just before them a diminutive flight of stone steps led down toa narrow graveled walk, that skirted a velvety bit of lawn, and was inits turn hedged by some close and high-growing shrubs from the"Bellair woods," as they were called. Beyond the steps was a gap inthe hedge, and this, cut and trimmed until it formed a compact andbeautiful arch, was spanned by a stile, built for the convenience ofthose who desired to reach the village by the shortest route, theBellair woods.
"Don't repeat like a parrot, Lucian." Cora raised her voice angrily."I say, when is this to end? and how?"
They were just opposite the gap in the hedge and Lucian, looking downupon Cora, stood facing the opening. As the words crossed her lips,his eyes fell upon a figure just behind her, and he checked theconversation by an involuntary motion of the hand.
The figure came toward them. It was Miss Arthur's French maid, and shecarried in her hand a small parcel. Evidently she was returning fromsome errand to the village. Miss Arthur's maid had black hair, dressedvery low on the forehead; eyes of some sort, it is to be presumed, butthey were effectually concealed by blue glasses; a rather pastycomplexion; a form that might have been good, but if so, its beautieswere hidden by the loose and, as Cora expressed it, "floppy," style ofjacket which she habitually wore. She passed them with a low "_Bonjour, madame_," and hurried up the terrace. At least she was walkingswiftly, but not very smoothly, up the terrace when Lucian cast afterher a last disapproving glance.
"Your lady's maid is not a swan nor a beauty," he said, as they bymutual consent went down the steps.
Cora made no reply to this, seeming lost in thought. They walked onfor a moment in silence.
But Celine Leroque did not walk on. She dropped her package and,stooping to recover it, cast a swift glance after the pair. They weresauntering slowly down the hedgerow walk, their backs toward her.
Probably the falling parcel had reminded the French maid of somethingforgotten, for she turned swiftly, silently, and without any of herprevious awkwardness retraced her steps and disappeared beyond thestile.
"What's the row, Co.?" asked Lucian, kicking a pebble with his boottoe. "You are getting restive early in the game. Can't you keep tothe track for another two months?"
"No."
"What then?"
"This. We must get that fool out of the way."
"Meaning who?"
"She, of course--Ellen Arthur. The woman will make a raving maniac ofme in two months more."
"By Jove! and of me, too, if I don't get out of this."
"We must get rid of her."
"How?"
"I don't know--somehow, anyhow."
"And then?"
"And then--" she gave him a side glance, and laughed
unpleasantly.
"And then? You have a plan, my blonde. Out with it; I am a listener."
And he did listen.
Slowly down the hedgerow path they paced, and at the end, halted andstood for a time in earnest consultation. There was some difference ofopinion, but the difference became adjusted. And they turned towardthe house, evidently satisfied with the result of the morning'sconsultation.
Not long after, Miss Arthur's maid returned also.
"I see by the papers that Dr. LeGuise has come back from Europe,Cora," announced Mr. Davlin from his seat at the lunch table that day.
"Dr. LeGuise! how delightful! Now one will not be afraid to besick--our old family physician, you know," to Miss Arthur; "and _so_skillful. He has been in Europe a year. The dear man, how I long tosee him!"
"Well!" laughed Lucian, "I will carry him any amount of affection,providing it is not too bulky. I find that I must run up to the cityto-morrow, and of course will look him up."
"Oh!" eagerly, "and find out if he saw the D'Arcys in Paris; and thosedelightful Trevanions!" Then, regretfully, "can't you stay anotherweek, dear?"
"Out of the question, Co., much as I regret it," glancing expressivelyat Miss Arthur. "But I shan't forget you all."
"Pray do not," simpered the spinster. "And when do you return?"
"Not for two or three weeks, I fear. But rest assured I shall lose notime, when once I am at liberty."
During his lazy, good-humored moments, Mr. Davlin had made mostridiculous love to Miss Arthur, and that lady had not been behind indoing her part. Now, strange to say, the face which she bent over hernapkin wore upon it a look, not of sorrow, but of relief. And why?
Madeline Payne, the Detective's Daughter Page 14