The Man in Black: An Historical Novel of the Days of Queen Anne

by G. P. R. James

  CHAPTER XLVI.

  Mrs. Hazleton fancied herself in high good luck; for just as she waspassing through the door into the hall, Lady Hastings' maid crossedand made her a curtsey. Mrs. Hazleton beckoned her up, saying in aquiet, easy, every-day tone, "I suppose your lady is awake by thistime?"

  "No, madam," replied the maid, "she is asleep still. She did not takeher nap as early as usual to-day; for Mistress Emily was with her, andmy lady would not go to sleep till she went out to take a walk."

  Mrs. Hazleton was somewhat alarmed at this intelligence; for she hadnot much confidence in her good friend's discretion. "How is MissEmily?" she said in a tender tone. "She seemed very sad and low whenlast I saw her."

  "She is just the same, Madam," replied the maid. "She did not seemvery cheerful when she went out, and has been crying a good dealto-day."

  Mrs. Hazleton was better satisfied, and paused for an instant tothink; but the maid interrupted her cogitations by saying--"I think Imay wake my lady now, if you please to come up, Madam."

  "Oh, dear, no," replied Mrs. Hazleton. "Do not wake her. I will go inquietly and sit with her till she wakes naturally. It is a pity todeprive her of one moment's calm sleep. You needn't come, you needn'tcome. I will ring for you when your mistress wakes;" and she quietlyascended the stairs, though the maid offered some civil remonstrancesto her undertaking the task of watching by her sleeping mistress.

  The most careful affection could not have prompted greater precautionsin opening the door of the sick lady's chamber, than those which weretaken by Mrs. Hazleton. It was a good solid door, however, wellseasoned, and well hung, and moved upon its hinges without noise. Sheclosed it with the same care, and then with a soft tread glided up tothe side of the bed.

  Lady Hastings was sleeping profoundly and quietly; and as she lay inan attitude of easy grace, a shadow of her youthful beauty seemed tohave returned, and all the traces of after cares and anxiety werebanished for the time. On the table, near the bed-head, stood the vialof medicine, with the glass and spoon; and Mrs. Hazleton eyed it for amoment or two without touching it. She saw that she had hit the colorexactly; but the quantity in that vial, and the one she had with her,was somewhat different. She felt puzzled and doubtful. She askedherself--"Would the difference be discovered when the time came forgiving her the medicine?" and a certain degree of trepidation seizedher. But she was bold, and said to herself--"They will never see it.They suspect nothing. They will never see it." She took the vial fromher pocket, and held it for an instant or two in her hand. Again adoubt and hesitation took possession of her. She gazed at the sleeperwith a haggard eye. The face was so calm, so sweet, so gentle inexpression, that the pleasant look perhaps did move her a little withremorse. The voice within said again, and again, "Forbear!" She triedto deafen herself against it, or to fill the ear of conscience withdelusive sounds. "She is dying," she said--"She will die--she cannotrecover. It is but taking away a few short hours, in order to stopthat fatal marriage, which shall never be. I am becoming a fool--aweak irresolute fool."

  Just as she thus thought, Lady Hastings moved uneasily, as if to wakefrom her slumber. That moment was decisive. With a hurried hand, andquick as light, Mrs. Hazleton changed the two vials, and concealed theone which she had taken away.

  Then it was, probably for the first time, that all the awfulconsequences of the deed, for time and for eternity, flashed upon her.The scales fell from her eyes: no longer passion, or mortified vanity,or irritated pride, or disappointed love, distorted the objects orconcealed their forms. She stood there consciously a murderer. Shetrembled in every limb; and, unable to support herself, sunk down inthe chair that stood near. Had Lady Hastings slept on, Mrs. Hazletonwould have been saved; for her impulse was immediately to reverse thevery act she had done--all would have been saved--all to whom that actbrought wretchedness. But the movement of the chair--the soundof the vial touching the marble table--the rustle of the thicksilk--dispelled what remained of slumber, and Lady Hastings opened hereyes drowsily, and looked round. At the very moment she would havegiven worlds to recall it. The deed became irrevocable. The barrier ofFate fell: it was amongst the things done; it was written in the bookof God as a great crime committed. Nothing remained but to insure,that the end she aimed at would be obtained; that the evilconsequences, in this world at least, should be averted from herself.There was a terrible struggle to recover her self-command--a wrestlingof the spirit--against the turbulent and fierce emotions which shookthe body. She was still much agitated when Lady Hastings recognizedher and began to speak; but her determination was taken to obtain theutmost that she could from the act she had committed--to have the fullprice of her crime. She was no Judas Iscariot, to be content with thethirty pieces of silver for the innocent blood, and then hang herselfin despair. Oh no! She had sold her own soul, and she would have itsprice.

  But yet, as I have said, the struggle was terrible, and lasted longerthan usual with her.

  "Dear me, my kind friend, is that you?" said Lady Hastings. "Have youbeen here long? I did not hear you come in."

  Her words, and her tone, were gentle and affectionate. All thecoldness and the sharpness of the preceding day seemed to have passedaway, and to have been forgotten; but words and tone were equallyjarring to the feelings of Mrs. Hazleton. The sharpest language, themost angry manner, would have been a relief to her. They would haveafforded her some sort of strength--some sort of support.

  It is painful enough to hear sweet music when we are very sad. I haveknown it rise almost to agony; but the tones of friendship and regard,of gentleness and tender kindness, to the ear of hatred and malice,must be more terrible still.

  "I have been here but a moment," said Mrs. Hazleton, gloomily--almostpeevishly. "I suppose it was my coming in woke you; but I am sure Imade as little noise as possible."

  "Why, what is the matter?" said Lady Hastings. "You look quite paleand agitated, and you speak quite crossly."

  "Your sudden waking startled me," said Mrs. Hazleton; "and, besides,you looked so ill, my dear friend. I almost thought you were dead tillyou began to move."

  There was malice in the sentence, simple as it seemed, and it had itseffect. Nervous, hypochondriac, Lady Hastings was frightened at themere sound, and her heart beat strangely at the very thought of beingsupposed dead. It seemed to her to augur that she was very ill; thatshe was much worse than her friends allowed her to believe; that theyanticipated her speedy dissolution, and she remained silent and sadfor several minutes, giving Mrs. Hazleton time to recover herselfcompletely. She was a little piqued too at the abruptness of Mrs.Hazleton's manner. Neither the speech, nor the mode, nor the speaker,pleased her; and she replied at length--"Nevertheless, I feel a gooddeal better to-day. I have slept well for, I dare say, a couple ofhours; and my dear child Emily has been with me all the morning. Imust say she bears opposition and contradiction very sweetly."

  She knew that would not please Mrs. Hazleton, and she laid someemphasis on the words by way of retaliation. It was petty, but it wasquite in her character. "Now I think of it," she added, "you promisedto tell me what you discovered in regard to Marlow's relationship toLord Launceston. I find--but never mind. Tell me what you have foundout."

  Mrs. Hazleton hesitated. The first impulse was to tell a lie--toassert that Marlow was not the old earl's heir; but there wassomething in Lady Hastings' manner which made her suspect that she hadreceived more certain information, and she made up her mind to speakthe truth.

  "It is very true," she said; "Mr. Marlow is the old lord's nearestmale relation, and heir to his title. I suspect," she added with asilly sounding laugh, "you have found this out yourself, my dearfriend, and have made your peace with Emily, by withdrawing youropposition to her marriage."

  Her heart was very bitter at that moment; for she really did suspectall that she said. The idea presented itself to her mind (producing afeeling of fierce disappointment), of all her efforts being renderedfruitless, her dark schemes frustrated, her cunning contrivanceswithout
effect, at the very moment when the crime, by which sheproposed to insure success, was so far consummated as to be beyondrecall. She was relieved on that score in a moment.

  "Oh dear no," cried Lady Hastings. "I promised you, my dear friend,that I would say nothing till I saw you, and I have said nothingeither to my husband or Emily. But I will of course now tell her allimmediately, and I do confess it will give me greater satisfactionthan any act of my whole life, to withdraw the opposition to hermarriage which has made her so miserable, and to bid her be happy withthe man of her own choice--an excellent good young man he is too. Hehas been laboring, I find, for the last fortnight or three weeks,night and day, in our service, and has detected the horribleconspiracy by which my husband was deprived of his rights andproperty. I shall tell Emily, with great joy, as soon as ever shecomes back, that were it for nothing but this zeal in our cause, Iwould receive him joyfully as my son-in-law."

  "You had better wait till to-morrow morning," said Mrs. Hazleton, in acold but significant tone.

  "Oh dear no," said Lady Hastings, somewhat petulantly, "I have waitedquite long enough--perhaps too long. You surely would not have meprotract my child's anxiety and sorrow unnecessarily. No, I will tellher the moment she returns. She read me part of a letter from Marlowto-day, which shows me that he has lost no time in seeking to serve usand make us happy, and I will lose no time in making my child and himhappy also."

  "As you please," replied Mrs. Hazleton; "I only thought that in thischangeable world, there are so many unexpected things occurringbetween one day and another, it might be well for you to pause andconsider a little--in order, I mean, that after-thought may not showyou reason to withdraw your consent, as you now withdraw yourobjection."

  "My consent once given, shall never be withdrawn," replied LadyHastings, in a determined tone.

  Mrs. Hazleton looked at the vial by the bedside, and then at herwatch. "You had better avoid all agitation," she said, "and at allevents before you speak with Emily, take a dose of the medicine, whichShort tells me he has given you to soothe and calm your spirits--shallI give you one now?"

  "No, I thank you," replied Lady Hastings, briefly; "not at present."

  "Is it not the time?" said Mrs. Hazleton, looking at her watch again;"the good man told me you were to take it very regularly."

  "But he told me," replied Lady Hastings, "that nobody was to give itto me but Emily, and she will be back at the right time, I am sure.What o'clock is it?"

  "Past five," replied Mrs. Hazleton, advancing the hour a little.

  "Then it wants three quarters of an hour to the time," said LadyHastings, "and Emily has only gone to take a walk. We are expectingMarlow to-night, so she will not go far I am sure."

  Mrs. Hazleton fell into profound thought. In proposing to give LadyHastings the portion herself, she had deviated a little from heroriginal plan. She had intended all along, that the mortal draughtshould be administered by the hand of Emily, and she had only beentempted to depart from that purpose by the fear of Lady Hastingswithdrawing her opposition to her daughter's marriage with Marlowbefore the deed was fully accomplished. There was no help for it,however. She was obliged to take her chance of the result; and whileshe mused at that moment, vague notions--what shall I call them?--notexactly schemes or purposes, but rather dreams of turning suspicionupon Emily herself, of making men believe--suspect, even if they couldnot prove--that the daughter knowingly deprived the mother of life,crossed her imagination. She meditated rather longer than was quitedecorous, and then suddenly recollecting herself she said, "By theway, has Emily yet condescended to particularize her astoundingcharges against your poor friend? I am really anxious to hear them,and although I confess that the matter has afforded me some amusement,it has brought painful feelings and doubts with it too: I havesometimes fancied, my dear friend, that there is a slight aberrationin your poor Emily's mind, and I can account for her conduct in thisinstance by no other mode. You know her grandfather, Sir John, hadmoments when he was hardly sane. I have heard your own good fatherdeclare upon one occasion, that Sir John was as mad as a lunatic. Tellme then, has Emily brought forward any proofs, or alluded to theseaccusations since I saw you? You said she would explain all in a fewhours."

  "She has not as yet explained all," replied Lady Hastings, "but Icannot deny that she has alluded to the charges, and repeated them alldistinctly. She said that the delay had been rather longer than sheexpected; but that as soon as Mr. Dixwell came, every thing should betold."

  "The suspense is unpleasant," said Mrs. Hazleton, somewhatsarcastically; "I trust the young lady does not play with the feelingsof her lover as she does with those of her friends, otherwise I shouldpity Marlow."

  Lady Hastings was a good deal nettled. "I do not think he muchdeserves your pity," she replied; "and besides, I think he is quitesatisfied with Emily's conduct, as I am also. I am quite confident shehas good reason for what she says, my dear Madam--not that I mean toassert that the charges are true, by any means--she may be mistaken,you know--she may be misinformed--but that she brings them in goodfaith, and fully believes that she can prove them distinctly, I do notfor a moment doubt. If she is wrong, nobody will be more grieved, ormore ready to make atonement than herself; but whether she is right orwrong, remains to be proved."

  "All that I have to request then is," said Mrs. Hazleton, "that youwill be kind enough to let me know, immediately you are yourselfinformed, what are the specific charges, and upon what grounds theyrest. That they must be false, I know; and therefore I shall givemyself no uneasiness about them. All I regret is, that you should betroubled about what must be frivolous and absurd. Nevertheless, I mustbeg you to let me hear immediately."

  "Sir Philip will do that," replied Lady Hastings, coldly. "If Emily isright in her views, the matter will require the intervention of a man.It will be too serious for a woman to deal with."

  "Oh, very well," said Mrs. Hazleton, with an air of offended dignity."Good morning, my dear Lady;" and she quitted the room.

  She paused upon the broad staircase for two or three minutes, leaningupon the balustrade in deep thought; but when she descended to thehall, she asked a servant who stood there if Mistress Emily hadreturned. The man replied in the negative, and she then inquired forSir Philip, asking to see him.

  The servant said he was in his library, and proceeded to announce her.She followed him so closely as to enter the room almost at the samemoment, and beheld Sir Philip Hastings, with his head leaning on hishand, sitting at the table and gazing earnestly down upon it. Therewas a book before him, but it was closed.

  "I beg pardon for intruding, my dear sir," said Mrs. Hazleton, "but Iwished to ask if you know where Emily is. I want to speak with her."

  "I know nothing about her," said Sir Philip, abruptly; and thenmuttered to himself, "would I knew more."

  "I thought I saw her in the fields as I came," said Mrs. Hazleton,"gathering flowers and herbs--she is fond of botany, I believe."

  "I know not," said Sir Philip, recovering himself a little. "Pray beseated, Madam--I have not attended much to her studies lately."

  "Thank you, I must go," said Mrs. Hazleton. "Perhaps I shall meet heras I drive along. Do not let me interrupt you, do not let me interruptyou;" and she quietly quitted the room.

  "Gathering herbs!" said Sir Philip Hastings, "what new whim is this?"