Delphi Complete Works of Sheridan Le Fanu

by J. Sheridan le Fanu

  ‘A bloodthirsty rascal that Bracton,’ muttered the major. The expenses were likely to be awful, and some allowance was to be made for his state of mind.

  He was under Doctor Buddle’s porch, and made a flimsy rattle with his thin brass knocker. ‘Maybe he has returned?’ He did not believe it, though.

  Major Jackson was very nervous, indeed. The up trains from Dollington were ‘few and far between,’ and that diddled Crutchleigh would be down on him the moment the breath was out of poor Lake. ‘It was plain yesterday at the sessions that infernal woman (his wife) had been at him. She hates Bracton like poison, because he likes the Brandon people; and, by Jove, he’ll have up every soul concerned. The Devil and his wife I call them. If poor Lake goes off anywhere between eleven and four o’clock, I’m nabbed, by George!’

  The door was opened. The doctor peeped out of his parlour.

  ‘Well?’ enquired the major, confoundedly frightened.

  ‘Pretty well, thank ye, but awfully fagged — up all night, and no use.’

  ‘But how is he?’ asked the major, with a dreadful qualm of dismay.

  ‘Same as yesterday — no change — only a little bleeding last night — not arterial; venous you know — only venous.’

  The major thought he spoke of the goddess, and though he did not well comprehend, said he was ‘glad of it.’

  ‘Think he’ll do then?’

  ‘He may — very unlikely though. A nasty case, as you can imagine.’

  ‘He’ll certainly not go, poor fellow, before four o’clock P.M. I dare say — eh?’

  The major’s soul was at the Dollington station, and was regulating poor

  Lake’s departure by ‘Bradshaw’s Guide.’

  ‘Who knows? We expect Sir Francis this morning. Glad to have a share of the responsibility off my shoulders, I can tell you. Come in and have a chop, will you?’

  ‘No, thank you, I’ve had my breakfast.’

  ‘You have, have you? Well, I haven’t,’ cried the doctor, with an agreeable chuckle, shaking the major’s hand, and disappearing again into his parlour.

  I found in my lodgings in London, on my return from Doncaster, some two months later, a copy of the county paper of this date, with a cross scrawled beside the piece of intelligence which follows. I knew that tremulous cross. It was traced by the hand of poor old Miss Kybes — with her many faults always kind to me. It bore the Brandon postmark, and altogether had the impress of authenticity. It said: —

  ‘We have much pleasure in stating that the severe injury sustained four days since by Captain Stanley Lake, at the time a visitor at the Lodge, the picturesque residence of Josiah Larkin, Esq., in the vicinity of Gylingden, is not likely to prove so difficult of treatment or so imminently dangerous as was at first apprehended. The gallant gentleman was removed from the scene of his misadventure to Brandon Hall, close to which the accident occurred, and at which mansion his noble relatives, Lord Chelford and the Dowager Lady Chelford, are at present staying on a visit. Sir Francis Seddley came down express from London, and assisted by our skilful county practitioner, Humphrey Buddle, Esq., M.D. of Gylingden, operated most successfully on Saturday last, and we are happy to say the gallant patient has since been going on as favourably as could possibly have been anticipated. Sir Francis Seddley returned to London on Sunday afternoon.’

  Within a week after the operation, Buddle began to talk so confidently about his patient, that the funereal cloud that overhung Brandon had almost totally disappeared, and Major Jackson had quite unpacked his portmanteau.

  About a week after the ‘accident’ there came one of Mr. Mark Wylder’s strange letters to Mr. Jos. Larkin. This time it was from Marseilles, and bore date the 27th November. It was much the longest he had yet received, and was in the nature of a despatch, rather than of those short notes in which he had hitherto, for the most part, communicated.

  Like the rest of his letters it was odd, but written, as it seemed, in better spirits.

  ‘Dear Larkin, — You will be surprised to find me in this port, but I think my secret cruise is nearly over now, and you will say the plan was a masterstroke, and well executed by a poor devil, with nobody to advise him. I am coiling such a web round them, and making it fast, as you may see a spider, first to this point and then to the other, that I won’t leave my persecutors one solitary chance of escape. I’ll draw it quietly round and round — closer and closer — till they can neither blow nor budge, and then up to the yardarm they go, with what breath is left in them. You don’t know yet how I am dodging, or why my measures are taken; but I’ll shorten your long face a good inch with a genuine broad grin when you learn how it all was. I may see you to tell the story in four weeks’ time; but keep this close. Don’t mention where I write from, nor even so much as my name. I have reasons for everything, which you may guess, I dare say, being a sharp chap; and it is not for nothing, be very sure, that I am running this queer rig, masquerading, hiding, and dodging, like a runaway forger, which is not pleasant anyway, and if you doubt it, only try; but needs must when the old boy drives. He is a clever fellow, no doubt, but has been sometimes outwitted before now. You must arrange about Chelford and Lake. I don’t know where Lake is staying. I don’t suppose at Brandon; but he won’t stay in the country nor spend his money to please you or I. Therefore you must have him at your house — be sure — and I will square it with you; I think three pounds a week ought to do it very handsome. Don’t be a muff and give him expensive wines — a pint of sherry is plenty between you; and when he dines at his club half-a-pint does him. I know; but if he costs you more, I hereby promise to pay it. Won’t that do? Well, about Chelford: I have been thinking he takes airs, and maybe he is on his high-horse about that awkward business about Miss Brandon. But there is no reason why Captain Lake should object. He has only to hand you a receipt in my name for the amount of cheques you may give him, and to lodge a portion of it where I told him, and the rest to buy Consols; and I suppose he will expect payment for his no-trouble. Every fellow, particularly these gentlemanlike fellows, they have a pluck at you when they can. If he is at that, give him at the rate of a hundred a-year, or a hundred and fifty if you think he won’t do for less; though 100l. ought to be a good deal to Lake; and tell him I have a promise of the adjutancy of the county militia, if he likes that; and I am sure of a seat in Parliament either for the county or for Dollington, as you know, and can do better for him then; and I rely on you, one way or another, to make him undertake it. And now for myself: I think my vexation is very near ended. I have not fired a gun yet, and they little think what a raking broadside I’ll give them. Any of the county people you meet, tell them I’m making a little excursion on the Continent; and if they go to particularise, you may say the places I have been at. Don’t let anyone know more. I wish there was any way of stopping that old she’ — (it looked like dragon or devil — but was traced over with a cloud of flourishes, and only ‘Lady Chelford’s mouth’ was left untouched). ‘Don’t expect to hear from me so long a yarn for some time again; and don’t write. I don’t stay long anywhere, and don’t carry my own name — and never ask for letters at the post. I’ve a good glass, and can see pretty far, and make a fair guess enough what’s going on aboard the enemy.

  ‘I remain always,

  ‘Dear Larkin,

  ‘Ever yours truly,

  ‘MARK WYLDER.’

  ‘He hardly trusts Lake more than he does me, I presume,’ murmured Mr. Larkin, elevating his tall bald head with an offended and supercilious air; and letting the thin, open letter fall, or rather throwing it with a slight whisk upon the table.

  ‘No, I take leave to think he certainly does not. Lake has got private directions about the disposition of a portion of the money. Of course, if there are persons to be dealt with who are not pleasantly approachable by respectable professional people — in fact it would not suit me. It is really rather a compliment, and relieves me of the unpleasant necessity of saying — no.’

  Yet
Mr. Larkin was very sore, and curious, and in a measure, hated both Lake and Wylder for their secret confidences, and was more than ever resolved to get at the heart of Mark’s mystery.

  CHAPTER XLII.

  A PARAGRAPH IN THE COUNTY PAPER.

  The nature of his injury considered, Captain Lake recovered with wonderful regularity and rapidity. In four weeks he was out rather pale and languid but still able to walk without difficulty, leaning on a stick, for ten or fifteen minutes at a time. In another fortnight he had made another great advance, had thrown away his crutch handled stick, and recovered flesh and vigour. In a fortnight more he had grown quite like himself again; and in a very few weeks more, I read in the same county paper, transmitted to me by the same fair hands, but this time not with a cross, but three distinct notes of admiration standing tremulously at the margin of the paragraph, the following to me for a time incredible, and very nearly to this day amazing, announcement: —

  ‘MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE.

  ‘The auspicious event so interesting to our county, which we have this day to announce, though for some time upon the tapis, has been attended with as little publicity as possible. The contemplated union between Captain Stanley Lake, late of the Guards, sole surviving son of the late General Williams Stanley Stanley Lake, of Plasrhwyn, and the beautiful and accomplished Miss Brandon, of Brandon Hall, in this county, was celebrated in the ancestral chapel of Brandon, situated within the manorial boundaries, in the immediate vicinity of the town of Gylingden, on yesterday. Although the marriage was understood to be strictly private — none but the immediate relations of the bride and bridegroom being present — the bells of Gylingden rang out merry peals throughout the day, and the town was tastefully decorated with flags, and brilliantly illuminated at night.

  ‘A deputation of the tenantry of the Gylingden and the Longmoor estates, together with those of the Brandon estate, went in procession to Brandon Hall in the afternoon, and read a well-conceived and affectionate address, which was responded to in appropriate terms by Captain Lake, who received them, with his beautiful bride at his side, in the great gallery — perhaps the noblest apartment in that noble ancestral mansion. The tenantry were afterwards handsomely entertained under the immediate direction of Josiah Larkin, Esq., of the Lodge, the respected manager of the Brandon estates, at the “Brandon Arms,” in the town of Gylingden. It is understood that the great territorial influence of the Brandon family will obtain a considerable accession in the estates of the bridegroom in the south of England.’

  There was some more which I need not copy, being very like what we usually see on such occasions.

  I read this piece of intelligence half a dozen times over during breakfast. ‘How that beautiful girl has thrown herself away!’ I thought. ‘Surely the Chelfords, who have an influence there, ought to have exerted it to prevent her doing anything so mad. His estates in the south of England, indeed! Why, he can’t have £300 a year clear from that little property in Devon. He is such a liar; and so absurd, as if he could succeed in deceiving anyone upon the subject.’

  So I read the paragraph over again, and laid down the paper, simply saying, ‘Well, certainly, that is disgusting!’

  I had heard of his duel. It was also said that it had in some way had reference to Miss Brandon. But this was the only rumoured incident which would at all have prepared one for the occurrence. I tried to recollect anything particular in his manner — there was nothing; and she positively seemed to dislike him. I had been utterly mystified, and so, I presume, had all the other lookers-on.

  Well! after all, ’twas no particular business of mine.

  At the club, I saw it in the ‘Morning Post;’ and an hour after, old Joe Gabloss, that prosy Argus who knows everything, recounted the details with patient precision, and in legal phrase, ‘put in’ letters from two or three country houses proving his statement.

  So there was no doubting it longer: and Captain Stanley Lake, late of Her Majesty’s —— Regiment of Guards, idler, scamp, coxcomb, and the beautiful Dorcas Brandon, heiress of Brandon, were man and wife.

  I wrote to my fair friend, Miss Kybes, and had an answer confirming, if that were needed, the public announcement, and mentioning enigmatically, that it had caused ‘a great deal of conversation.’

  The posture of affairs in the small world of Gylingden, except in the matter of the alliance just referred to, was not much changed.

  Since the voluminous despatch from Marseilles, promising his return so soon, not a line had been received from Mark Wylder. He might arrive any day or night. He might possibly have received some unexpected check — if not checkmate, in that dark and deep game on which he seemed to have staked so awfully. Mr. Jos. Larkin sometimes thought one thing, sometimes another.

  In the meantime, Captain Lake accepted the trust. Larkin at times thought there was a constant and secret correspondence going on between him and Mark Wylder, and that he was his agent in adjusting some complicated and villainous piece of diplomacy by means of the fund — secret-service money — which Mark had placed at his disposal.

  He, Mr. Larkin, was treated like a child in this matter, and his advice never so much as asked, nor his professional honour accredited by the smallest act of confidence.

  Sometimes his suspicions took a different turn, and he thought that Lake might be one of those ‘persecutors’ of whom Mark spoke with such mysterious hatred; and that the topic of their correspondence was, perhaps, some compromise, the subject or the terms of which would not bear the light.

  Lake certainly made two visits to London, one of them of a week’s duration. The attorney being a sharp, long-headed fellow, who knew very well what business was, knew perfectly well, too, that two or three short letters might have settled any legitimate business which his gallant friend had in the capital.

  But Lake was now married, and under the incantation whistled over him by the toothless Archdeacon of Mundlebury, had sprung up into a county magnate, and was worth cultivating, and to be treated tenderly.

  So the attorney’s business was to smile and watch — to watch, and of course, to pray as heretofore — but specially to watch. He himself hardly knew all that was passing in his own brain. There are operations of physical nature which go on actively without your being aware of them; and the moral respiration, circulation, insensible perspiration, and all the rest of that peculiar moral system which exhibited its type in Jos. Larkin, proceeded automatically in the immortal structure of that gentleman.

  Being very gentlemanlike in externals, with a certain grace, amounting very nearly to elegance, and having applied himself diligently to please the county people, that proud fraternity, remembering his father’s estates, condoned his poverty, and took Captain Lake by the hand, and lifted him into their superb, though not very entertaining order.

  There were solemn festivities at Brandon, and festive solemnities at the principal county houses in return. Though not much of a sportsman, Lake lent himself handsomely to all the sporting proceedings of the county, and subscribed in a way worthy of the old renown of Brandon Hall to all sorts of charities and galas. So he was getting on very pleasantly with his new neighbours, and was likely to stand very fairly in that dull, but not unfriendly society.

  About three weeks after this great county marriage, there arrived, this time from Frankfort, a sharp letter, addressed to Jos. Larkin, Esq. It said: —

  ‘My Dear Sir, — I think I have reason to complain. I have just seen by accident the announcement of the marriage at Brandon. I think as my friend, and a friend to the Brandon family, you ought to have done something to delay, if you could not stop it. Of course, you had the settlements, and devil’s in it if you could not have beat about a while — it was not so quick with me — and not doubled the point in a single tack; and you know the beggar has next to nothing. Any way, it was your duty to have printed some notice that the thing was thought of. If you had put it, like a bit of news, in “Galignani,” I would have seen it, and known what to do. Wel
l, that ship’s blew up. But I won’t let all go. The cur will begin to try for the county or for Dollington. You must quietly stop that, mind; and if he persists, just you put an advertisement in “Galignani,” saying Mr. Smith will take notice, that the other party is desirous to purchase, and becoming very pressing. Just you hoist that signal, and somebody will bear down, and blaze into him at all hazards — you’ll see how. Things have not gone quite smooth with me since; but it won’t be long till I run up my flag again, and take the command. Be perfectly civil with Stanley Lake till I come on board — that is indispensable; and keep this letter as close from every eye as sealed orders. You may want a trifle to balk S.L.’s electioneering, and there’s an order on Lake for 200l. Don’t trifle about the county and borough. He must have no footing in either till I return.

  ‘Yours, dear Larkin,

  ‘Very truly

  ‘(but look after my business better),

  ‘M. WYLDER.’

  The order on Lake, a little note, was enclosed: —

  ‘Dear Lake, — I wish you joy, and all the good wishes going, as I could not make the prize myself.

  ‘Be so good to hand my lawyer, Mr. Jos. Larkin, of the Lodge, Gylingden, 200l. sterling, on my account.

  ‘Yours, dear Lake,

  ‘Very faithfully,

  ‘M. WYLDER.

  200l.)

  ‘23rd Feb., &c. &c.’

  When Jos. Larkin presented this little order, it was in the handsome square room in which Captain Lake transacted business — a lofty apartment, wainscoted in carved oak, and with a great stone mantelpiece, with the Wylder arms, projecting in bold relief, in the centre, and a florid scroll, with ‘RESURGAM’ standing forth as sharp as the day it was chiselled nearly three hundred years before.