Cursed by a Fortune

by George Manville Fenn

  CHAPTER TWELVE.

  Kate was not the only one at the Manor House who declined to come downto dinner.

  The bell had rung, and after Mrs Wilton had been up twice to herniece's room, and reported the ill success of her visits to her lord,Wilton growled out:

  "Well, I want my dinner. Let her stay and starve herself into hersenses. But here," he cried, with a fresh burst of temper, "why thedevil isn't that boy here? I'm not going to be kept waiting for him.Do you hear? Where is he?"

  "He was so ill, dear, he said he was obliged to go upstairs and liedown."

  "Bah! Rubbish! He wasn't hurt."

  "Oh, my dear, you don't know," sobbed Mrs Wilton.

  "Yah! You cry if you dare. Wipe your eyes. Think I haven't had worryenough to-day without you trying to lay the dust? Ring and tell Samuelto fetch him down."

  "Oh, pray don't do that, dear; the servants will talk enough as it is."

  "They'd better. I'll discharge the lot. I've been too easy witheverybody up to now, and I'll begin to turn over a new leaf. Standaside, woman, and let me get to that bell."

  "No, no, don't, pray don't ring. Let me go up and beg of him to comedown."

  "What! Beg? Go up and tell him that if he don't come down to dinner ina brace of shakes I'll come and fetch him with a horsewhip."

  "James, my dear, pray, pray don't be so violent."

  "But I will be violent. I am in no humour to be dictated to now. I'lllet some of you see that I'm master."

  "But poor dear Claud is so big now."

  "I don't care how big he is--a great stupid oaf! Go and tell him what Isay. And look here, woman."

  "Yes, dear," said Mrs Wilton, plaintively.

  "I mean it. If he don't come at once, big as he is, I'll take up thehorsewhip."

  Mrs Wilton stifled a sob, and went up to her son's room and entered, tofind him lying on his bed with his boots resting on the bottom rail, astrong odour of tobacco pervading the room, and a patch or two of cigarashes soiling the counterpane.

  "Claud, my dearest, you shouldn't smoke up here," she said, tenderly, asshe laid her hand upon her son's forehead. "How are you now, darling?"

  "Damned bad."

  "Oh, not quite so bad as that, dearest. Dinner is quite ready."

  "--The dinner!"

  "Claud, darling, don't use such dreadful language. But please get upnow, and let me brush your hair. Your father is so angry and violentbecause you are keeping him waiting. Pray come down at once."

  "Shan't!"

  "Claud, dearest, you shouldn't say that. Please come down."

  "Shan't, I tell you. Be off, and don't bother me."

  "I am so sorry, my dear, but I must. He sent me up, dear."

  "I--shan't--come--down. There!"

  "But Claud, my dear, he is so angry. I dare not go without you. Whatam I to say?"

  "Tell him I say he's an old beast."

  "Oh, Claud, I can't go and tell him that. You shouldn't--you shouldn't,indeed."

  "I'm too bad to eat."

  "Yes--yes; I know, darling, but do--do try and come down and have aglass of wine. It will do you good, and keep poor papa from being soviolent."

  "I don't want any wine. And I shan't come. There!"

  "Oh, dear me! Oh, dear me!" sighed Mrs Wilton; "what am I to do?"

  "Go and tell him I won't come. Bad enough to be hit by that beastly oldprize fighter, without him kicking me as he did. I'm not a door mat."

  "No, no, my dear; of course not."

  "An old brute! I believe he has injured my liver."

  "Claud, my darling, don't, pray don't say that."

  "Why not? The doctor ought to be fetched; I'm in horrid pain."

  "Yes, yes, my dear; and it did seem very hard."

  "Hard? I should think it was. I'm sure there's a rib broken, if nottwo."

  "Oh, my own darling boy!" cried Mrs Wilton, embracing him.

  "Don't, mother; you hurt. Be off, and leave me alone. Tell him Ishan't come."

  "No, no, my dear; pray make an effort and come down."

  "Shan't, I tell you. Now go!"

  "But--but--Claud, dear, he threatened to come up with a horse whip andfetch you."

  "What!" cried Claud, springing up on the bed without wincing, andstaring at his mother; "did he say that?"

  "Yes, my love," faltered the mother.

  "Then you go down and tell him to come, and I'll knock his old headoff."

  "Oh, Claud, my dear boy, you shouldn't. I can not sit here and listento such parricidical talk."

  "Stand up then, and now be off."

  "But, my darling, you will come?"

  "No, I won't."

  "For my sake?"

  "I won't, for my own. I'm not going to stand it. He shan't bully andknock me about I'm not a boy now. I'll show him."

  "But, Claud, darling, for the sake of peace and quietness; I don't wantthe servants to know."

  But dear Claud--his mother's own darling--was as obstinate now as hisfather, whom he condemned loudly, then condemned peace and quietness,then the servants, and swore that he would serve Kate out for causingthe trouble.

  "I'll bring her down on her knees--I'll tame her, and make her beg for akiss next time."

  "Yes, yes, my dear, you shall, but not now. You must be humble andpatient."

  "Are you coming down, Maria?" ascended in a savage roar.

  "Yes, yes, my dear, directly," cried the trembling woman. "There, youhear, darling. He is in a terrible fury. Come down with me."

  "I won't, I tell you," cried the young man, making a snatch at thepillow, to raise it threateningly in his hands; "go, and tell him what Isaid."

  "Maria! Am I to come up?" ascended in a roar.

  "Yes--no--no, my dear," cried Mrs Wilton. "I'm--I'm coming down."

  She hurried out of the room, dabbed her eyes hastily, and descended towhere the Squire was tramping up and down the hall, with Samuel, thecook, housemaid, and kitchen maid in a knot behind the swing baize door,which cut off the servants' offices, listening to every word of thesocial comedy.

  "Well," roared Wilton, "is he coming?"

  "N-n-not just now, my d-dear. He feels so ill and shaken that he begsyou will excuse him."

  "Humbug, woman! My boy couldn't have made up such a message. He saidhe wouldn't, eh? Now then; no prevarication. That's what he said."

  "Y-yes, my dear," faltered the mother. "Oh, James dearest, pray--praydon't."

  She clung to him, but he shook her off, strode to the umbrella stand,and snatched a hunting whip from where it hung with twisted thong, andstamped up the stairs, with his trembling wife following, sobbing andimploring him not to be so violent; but all in vain, for he turned offat the top of the old oaken staircase and stamped away to the door ofhis son's bedroom--that at the end of the wing which matched to Kate's.

  Here Mrs Wilton made a last appeal in a hurried whisper.

  "He is so bad--says his ribs are broken from the kick."

  "Bah!" roared the Squire; "he has no ribs in his hind legs--Here, you,Claud; come down to dinner directly or--Here, unlock this door."

  He rattled the handle, and then thumped and banged in vain, while MrsWilton, who had been ready to shriek with horror, began to breathe morefreely.

  "I thought you said he was lying down, too bad to get up?"

  "Yes, yes, dear, he is," faltered the poor woman.

  "Seems like it. Able to lock himself in. Here, you sir; come down."

  But there was no reply; not a sound in answer to his rattling andbanging; and at last, in the culmination of his rage, the Squire drewback to the opposite wall to gain force so as to dash his foot throughthe panel if he could, but just then Eliza opened Kate's door at the farend of the long corridor, and peered out.

  That ended the disturbance.

  "Come on down to dinner, Maria," said the Squire.

  "Yes, my dear," she faltered, and they descended to dine alone, MrsWilton on water, her husb
and principally on wine, and hardly a word wasspoken, the head of the house being very quiet and thoughtful in thecalm which followed the storm.

  Just as the untasted pheasants were being taken away, after the secondcourse, Wilton suddenly said to the footman:

  "Tell Miss Kate's maid to come here."

  Mrs Wilton looked at her husband wonderingly, but he sat crumbling hisbread and sipping his claret till the quiet, grave, elderly servantappeared.

  "How is your mistress?" he said.

  "Very unwell, sir."

  "Think the doctor need be sent for?"

  "Well, no, sir, I hardly think that. She has been very much agitated."

  "Yes, of course; poor girl," said Wilton, quietly.

  "But I think she will be better after a good night's rest, sir."

  "So do I, Eliza. You will see, of course, that she has everything shewants."

  "Oh, yes, sir. I did take her up some dinner, but I could not prevailupon her to touch it."

  "Humph! I suppose not. That will do, thank you.--No, no, Maria, thereis no occasion to say any more."

  Mrs Wilton's mouth was open to speak, but she shut it again quickly,fearing to raise another storm, and the maid left the room. But themother would speak out as soon as they were alone.

  "I should like to order a tray with one of the pheasants to be sent upto Claud, dear."

  "I daresay you would," he replied. "Well, I shouldn't."

  "May I send for Doctor Leigh?"

  "What for? You heard what the woman said?"

  "I meant for Claud, dear."

  "Oh, I'll see to him in the morning. I shall have a pill ready for himwhen I'm cooled down. It won't be so strong then."

  "But, James, dear--"

  "All right, old lady, I'm getting calm now; but listen to me. I meanthis: you are not to go to his room to-night."

  "James!"

  "Nor yet to Kate's, till I go with you."

  "My dear James!"

  "That's me," he said, with a faint smile, "and you're a very good,affectionate, well meaning old woman; but if ever there was one who wasalways getting her husband into scrapes, it is you."

  "Really, dear!" she cried, appealingly.

  "Yes, and truly. There, that will do. Done dinner?"

  "Yes, dear."

  "Don't you want any cheese or dessert?"

  "No, dear."

  "Then let's go. You'll come and sit with me in the library to-night andhave your cup of tea there."

  "Yes, dear, but mayn't I go and just see poor Kate?"

  "No."

  The word was said quietly, but with sufficient emphasis to silence theweak woman, who sat gazing appealingly at her husband, whom she followedmeekly enough to the library, where she sat working, and later on sippedher tea, while he was smoking and gazing thoughtfully at the fire,reviewing the events of the day, and, to do him justice, repentingbitterly a great deal that he had said. But as the time went on,feeling as he did the urgency of his position and the need to be able tomeet the demands which would be made upon him before long, he grewminute by minute more stubbornly determined to carry out his plans withrespect to his ward.

  "He's only a boy yet," he said to himself, "and he's good at heart. Idon't suppose I was much better when I was his age, and excepting thatI'm a bit arbitrary I'm not such a bad husband after all."

  At that moment he looked up at his wife, just in time to see her bowgently towards him. But knowing from old experience that it was not inacquiescence, he glanced at his watch and waited a few minutes, duringwhich time Mrs Wilton nodded several times and finally dropped her workinto her lap.

  This woke her up, and she sat up, looking very stern, and as if going tosleep with so much trouble on the way was the last thing possible. Butnature was very strong, and the desire for sleep more powerful than thesorrow from which she suffered; and she was dozing off again when herhusband rose suddenly to ring the bell, the servants came in, prayerswere read, and at a few minutes after ten Wilton took a chambercandlestick and led the way to bed.

  He turned off, though, signing to Mrs Wilton to follow him, and onreaching his niece's room, tapped at the door gently.

  "Kate--Kate, my dear," he said, and Mrs Wilton looked at himwonderingly.

  "Yes, uncle."

  "How are you now, my child?"

  "Not very well, uncle."

  "Very sorry, my dear. Can your aunt get you anything?"

  "No; I thank you."

  "Wish you a good night, then. I am very sorry about that upset thisafternoon.--Come, my dear."

  "Good-night, Kate, my love," said Mrs Wilton, with her ear against thepanel; "I do hope you will be able to sleep."

  "Good-night, aunt," said the girl quietly; and they went back to theirown door.

  "Won't you come and say `good-night' to poor Claud, dear?" whisperedMrs Wilton.

  "No, `poor Claud' has to come to me first.--Go in."

  He held open the door for his wife to enter, and then followed andlocked it, and for some hours the Manor House was very still.

  The next morning James Wilton was out a couple of hours beforebreakfast, busying himself around his home farm as if nothing whateverhad happened and there was no fear of a foreclosure, consequent upon anyaction by John Garstang. He was back ready for breakfast rather laterthan his usual time, just as Mrs Wilton came bustling in to unlock thetea-caddy, and he nodded, and spoke rather gruffly:

  "Claud not down?" he said.

  "No, my dear; I saw you coming across the garden just as I was going tohis room to see how he was."

  "Oh, Samuel,"--to the man, who entered with a dish and hot plates,--"goand tell Mr Claud that we're waiting breakfast."

  The man went.

  "Let me go up, my dear. Poor boy! he must feel a bit reluctant to comedown and meet you this morning."

  "Poor fellow! he always was afflicted with that kind of timidshrinking," said Wilton, ironically. "No, stop. How is Kate?"

  "I don't know, my dear; Eliza said that she had been twice to her room,but she was evidently fast asleep, and she would not disturb her."

  "Humph! I shall be glad when she can come regularly to her meals."

  "What shall you say to her this morning?"

  "Wait and see--Well, is he coming down?"

  "Beg pardon, sir," said the footman. "I've been knocking ever so longat Mr Claud's door, and I can't get any answer."

  Mrs Wilton's hand dropped from the tap of the tea urn, and the boilingwater began to flow over the top of the pot.

  "Humph! Sulky," muttered Wilton--"Eh? What are you staring at?"

  "Beg pardon, sir, but he didn't put his boots outside last night, and henever took his hot water in."

  "Oh, James, James!" cried Mrs Wilton, wildly, "I knew it, I knew it. Idreamed about the black cow all last night, and there's somethingwrong."

  "Stop a minute: I'll come," said Wilton, quickly, and a startled lookcame into his face.

  "Take me--take me, too," sobbed his wife. "Oh, my poor boy! Ifanything has happened to him in the night. I shall never forgivemyself. Samuel--Samuel!"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Run round to the stables and send one of the men over for Doctor Leighat once."

  Wilton felt too much startled to counter-order this, but before the manhad gone a dozen steps he shouted to him.

  "Tell the gardener to bring a mallet and cold chisel from the toolshed."

  "Yes, sir," and full of excitement the man ran off, while his master andmistress hurried upstairs to their son's door. But before they reachedit Wilton had recovered his calmness.

  "What nonsense," he muttered. Then softly: "Here, you speak to him.Gently. Only overslept himself."

  He tapped, and signed to his wife.

  But her voice sounded full of agitation, as she said:

  "Claud, dear; it's getting very late." Then louder: "Claud! Claud, mydear, are you unwell?" Then with aery of agony, "Claud! Claud, mydarling! Oh, pray, pray speak to me, or y
ou'll break my poor heart!"

  "Here, stand aside," cried Wilton, who was thoroughly startled now. Heseized the handle of the door, turned it, and tried to force it open,but in vain. The next moment he was about to lay his shoulder closedown to the keyhole, when Kate's maid came running up to them.

  "Mrs Wilton! Mrs Wilton!" she cried; "pray, pray come! My dear younglady! Oh, help, help! I ought to have spoken sooner. What shall Ido?"