“Even if I could raise the sum you require,” said Cecilia, “I would not think of giving it to you without knowing for what destination it was intended.”
“And can you procure the sum, if I reveal to you—if I tell you——”
“I promise nothing,” interrupted Lady Cecilia drily.
“But you will do your best?” persisted the baronet.
“I will do nothing without being previously made aware of the real nature of your difficulties.”
“I will then keep you in the dark no longer. The cause of my embarrassment is a bill of exchange, for a thousand pounds, now lying in Greenwood’s hands, and due to-morrow.”
“That is but a simple debt; and, methinks, Sir Rupert, that your acquaintance with bills is not so slight as to render you an alarmist respecting the consequences.”
“Were it only a simple matter of debt, I should care but little,” said Sir Rupert, still compelled to support the biting raillery of his wife: “but unfortunately—in an evil hour—I know not what demon prompted me at the moment——”
“Speak, Sir Rupert—tell me the truth at once,” cried Lady Cecilia, now really alarmed.
“I say that in an evil hour—in a moment of desperation—in an excess of frenzy—I committed a forgery!”
“A forgery!” repeated Lady Cecilia, turning deadly pale. “Ah! what a disgrace to the family—what shame for me——”
“I told you that my ruin would redound upon yourself, Cecilia. But there is more yet for you to hear. The acceptance that I forged——”
“Well?”
“Was that of Lord Tremordyn——”
“My father!”
“And now you know all. Can you assist me?”
“Sir Rupert, I have no means of raising one tenth part of the sum that you need to cover this infamous transaction.”
“And yet you seemed to say that if I told you the nature of my difficulties——”
“I was curious to learn your secret; and as you appeared resolved to keep it from me, I thought I would see if there were no means of wheedling it out of you.”
“And you therefore have no hope to give me?” said the baronet, in a tone of despair.
“None. Where could I raise one thousand pounds? how am I to obtain such a sum? It is for you either to pacify Mr. Greenwood, or to throw yourself at my father’s feet and confess all.”
“Mr. Greenwood is resolute; and you know that your father would spurn me from his presence. So far from me being able to help myself, it is for you to help me. Perhaps Mr. Greenwood would listen to your representations; or else Lord Tremordyn would accord to you what he would never concede to me.”
“You cannot suppose that I can have any influence upon Mr. Greenwood,” began Lady Cecilia: “and as for—”
“On the contrary,” said Sir Rupert, fixing his eyes in a significant manner upon his wife’s countenance; “I have every reason to believe that your influence over Mr. Greenwood is very great; and I will now thank you to exercise it in my behalf.”
“What do you mean, Sir Rupert?” exclaimed Cecilia, a deep blush suffusing her face, and her eyes sinking beneath her husband’s expressive look.
“Do not force me to explanations, Cecilia,” returned the baronet. “I know more than you imagine—I have proofs of more than you fancy I could even suspect. But of that no matter: relieve me from this embarrassment—and I will never trouble you about your pursuits.”
“What would you have me do?” asked the guilty wife, in a trembling voice.
“Go to Greenwood and settle this business for me,” said the baronet, in an authoritative tone.
“I cannot—I dare not—I have no right to demand such a favour of him—I should be certain to experience a refusal—I—”
“Lady Cecilia,” interrupted the baronet, speaking in a slow and emphatic manner, “Mr. Greenwood is too gallant a man to refuse a mere trifle to a lady who has refused nothing to him.”
“Sir Rupert—you cannot suppose—you—”
“I mean what I say, madam,” added the baronet sternly. “Mr. Greenwood is your paramour, and you can surely use your influence with him to save your husband.”
“My God! what do I hear?” ejaculated Cecilia. “What proof have you, Sir Rupert—what testimony—what ground—”
“Every proof—every testimony—every ground,” interrupted the baronet impatiently. “But, again I say, I do not wish to ruin your reputation, if you will save mine.”
“Impossible!” cried Lady Cecilia. “I do not deny that Mr. Greenwood has accommodated me with an occasional loan—upon interest—”
“Interest indeed!” said the baronet, whose turn to assume a tone of raillery had now arrived: “interest paid from the bank of my honour!”
“Upon legal and commercial terms has he lent me money,” continued Lady Cecilia; “and this very evening has he refused to advance me another shilling!”
“Is that true, Cecilia?” demanded Sir Rupert.
“Nay—satisfy yourself,” said the lady; and drawing a note from her bosom, she handed it to her husband.
The correspondence that passed between Mr. Greenwood and Lady Cecilia was always of a laconic and most guarded nature: there was consequently nothing in the letter now communicated to Sir Rupert Harborough, to confirm his belief in his wife’s criminality. Indeed, the epistle was neither more nor less than any gentleman might write upon a matter of business to any lady.
“I see that Mr. Greenwood is tired of you, Cecilia,” said the baronet, throwing the note upon the table, “and that he is anxious to break off the connexion. Now I will tell you how you must be kind enough to act,” he continued, in a tone of command. “You must proceed at once to Mr. Greenwood; you must tell him that I have discovered all—that I have positive proofs—that since the day when Chichester discovered him with his arm round your neck in my drawing-room—”
“Oh! that villain Chichester!” murmured Lady Cecilia.
“That ever since that day,” continued the baronet, “Chichester and myself have watched your proceedings—have seen you, Cecilia, repair to the appointments agreed upon with your paramour—”
“But this is atrocious!” ejaculated the lady, now dreadfully excited.
“Nay—do not interrupt me,” said Sir Rupert in an imperative manner. “You must tell Mr. Greenwood that I and my witness have followed you both to an hotel at Greenwich—that we have been in the next room and have overheard your conversation—that we have been aware of the moments of your amorous dalliance—”
“Ah! Sir Rupert—do you want to kill me?” cried Cecilia, bursting into an agony of tears.
“Nonsense!” ejaculated the baronet: “I only want you to save me, and I will screen you. Go, then, to Greenwood—tell him all this—assure him that I know all—that for months have I been watching you—and that I should obtain from him damages far more important than the amount of this acceptance, but that I am willing to compromise the business by the destruction of that document.”
“And why could you not have acquainted Mr. Greenwood with all this when you last saw him?” demanded Lady Cecilia, drying her tears, and endeavouring to compose herself, now that the worst was known.
“I did not intend to mention my knowledge of your criminality at all,” said Sir Rupert; “and had you consented in the first instance to use your influence with Greenwood to obtain the money to settle the bill, you would not have forced me to these revelations.”
“Say rather, Sir Rupert Harborough,” exclaimed the lady, “that you would have me obtain for you the means to pay this forged bill; and when once you were freed from the power of Greenwood, you would have brought your action against him, and exposed your wife. But as you have failed in making me—the wife whom you would thus expose—the instrument
of procuring that sum,—and as the danger now stares you in the face, you proclaim your knowledge of our connexion, and use it as a means to compromise the forgery.”
“Cecilia, you do not think me capable——”
“I think you capable of any thing,” interrupted his wife indignantly; and it was singular to see that adulterous woman—that criminal wife—that profligate female now putting her husband to the blush, by exposing his base designs.
“Well—after all,” exclaimed Sir Rupert, “recriminations will do no good. Go to Greenwood—settle the affair—and the past shall be buried in oblivion.”
“And what guarantee do you offer to ensure eternal secresy on your part, provided Mr. Greenwood will give up this forged bill?”
“I will sign any paper he may require,” replied the baronet. “But time presses—it is now nearly ten o’clock—and to-morrow morning——”
“I will go to Mr. Greenwood,” said Lady Cecilia, rising from her seat: “I will go to him—and endeavour to compromise this affair to the best of my power.”
Sir Rupert rang the bell and ordered wine to be brought up while Lady Cecilia hastened to her boudoir to attire herself for going out; and in the mean time a servant was despatched to procure a cab.
The vehicle arrived and Lady Cecilia was already upon the threshold of the front door of the house, when a servant in a handsome livery ascended the steps, presented a letter, and said “For Sir Rupert Harborough.”
Lady Cecilia received the letter; and the servant who delivered it immediately took his departure.
The lady was about to send in the letter by her own domestic to her husband, when the superscription on the envelope caught her eyes by the light of the hall-lamp. The writing was in the delicate hand of a female; and, without a moment’s hesitation, Cecilia consigned the epistle to her reticule.
She then stepped into the vehicle, and ordered the driver to take her to Spring Gardens.
There were two bright lamps fixed in front of the cab; and by these means was Lady Cecilia enabled to examine the contents of the letter intended for her husband.
Without the least hesitation she opened the letter, and to her ineffable surprise discovered that it contained a Bank of England note for one thousand pounds.
This treasure was accompanied by a letter, the contents of which were as follows:—
“An individual who once received some kindness at the hands of Sir Rupert Harborough, has learnt by a strange accident that Sir Rupert Harborough has a pressing need of a sum of money to liquidate a debt due to Mr. George Montague Greenwood. The individual alluded to takes leave to place the sum required at Sir Rupert Harborough’s disposal.”
No name—no date—no address were appended to this mysterious note. The writing was in a delicate female hand;—and a servant in a handsome livery had delivered the letter. These circumstances, combined with the handsome manner in which the money was tendered, refuted the suspicion that some female, with whom Sir Rupert was illicitly connected, had thus befriended him.
Lady Cecilia was bewildered: the pain of conjecture and doubt was however absorbed in the pleasurable feelings excited by the possession of so large a sum of money.
The cab now stopped at Mr. Greenwood’s residence.
CHAPTER XCVI.
THE MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT’S LEVEE.
“YOU have doubtless called, my dear Cecilia,” said Mr. Greenwood, as he handed the fair visitant to a seat in his elegant drawing-room,—“you have doubtless called to remonstrate with me respecting my note of this evening.”
“No,” answered Cecilia coldly: “I come on a more momentous affair than that: Sir Rupert knows all!”
“Ah!” cried Greenwood; “is it possible that the villain Chichester—”
“Has betrayed us,” added the lady. “Moreover, Sir Rupert and his inseparable friend have been watching and dogging all our movements for months past.”
“This is awkward—very awkward,” observed Greenwood. “However, Sir Rupert will not dare show his teeth against me, nor venture to give publicity to the affair.”
“Because you hold his bill, with a forged acceptance, for one thousand pounds,” said Lady Cecilia.
“Ah! he has told you that much—has he?” exclaimed Greenwood. “Well—you perceive, my dearest Cecilia, that he is completely in my power.”
“The most remarkable part of the entire business,” observed the lady, “is that I am actually deputed by Sir Rupert to negotiate the amicable settlement of the affair with you.”
“Indeed!” cried Greenwood. “He could not have chosen a more charming plenipotentiary.”
“His proposal is this:—you are to give up the acceptance, and he will sign any paper you choose to guarantee you against legal proceedings on his part.”
“I do not see, fair ambassadress,” said Greenwood, who did not treat the business with so much serious attention as Lady Cecilia had anticipated—“I do not see that I should benefit myself by such an arrangement. So long as the bill remains in my possession, it is impossible for Sir Rupert Harborough to commence civil proceedings against me, because he knows full well that were he to have process issued against me, I should that moment hand him over to the officers of justice.”
“Then, for my sake, Mr. Greenwood,” said Lady Cecilia, cruelly hurt by this cold calculation on the part of a man the slave of whose passions she had so completely been,—“for my sake, compromise this affair amicably.”
“A thousand pounds is a large sum to fling into the street, my dear Cecilia,” observed Greenwood.
“And suppose that, by some accident my husband should raise that amount and pay the bill—”
“It never was my intention to allow him to pay all,” interrupted Greenwood. “I imagined that by threatening him, I should obtain five or six hundred on account, and I should still hold the bill for the balance. That balance I would not receive, were he to offer it, because by retaining the bill, I keep him in my power.”
“Then, once again, for my sake—for my sake,” repeated Lady Cecilia, “consent to the proposal made to you this evening—settle the affair in an amicable manner.”
“To oblige you, my dear Cecilia, I will assent to Sir Rupert Harborough’s proposal. Let him draw up and sign a document in which he acknowledges that he has discovered the—the—”
“Criminal conversation between his wife and Mr. George Greenwood,” said Cecilia: “we will not mince words in a negotiation of this kind,” she added, ironically.
“Precisely,” exclaimed Greenwood, coolly; “and that he has received full satisfaction for the same. In this manner the business can be disposed of to the satisfaction of all parties.”
“To-morrow morning at eleven o’clock I will call with the paper,” said Lady Cecilia.
“And I will give you up the forged bill,” returned the Member of Parliament. “And now, my dear Cecilia, allow me to make an observation relative to the answer I sent you this evening to your little note. The truth is, that representing as I do an enlightened and independent constituency—”
“Pardon me,” said Lady Cecilia, rising, “we will not talk of any other business until this most painful affair be settled.”
The fair patrician lady then took her leave, and returned to her husband, who awaited Greenwood’s decision in a state of the most painful suspense.
Cecilia communicated to him the particulars of the interview; and, ere he retired to rest, the baronet drew up the document which was to save himself by the compromise of his honour.
“So far, so good,” said Sir Rupert, as he handed the paper to his wife. “I have now a proposal to make to you, Cecilia—and I have little doubt that you will accept it.”
“Proceed,” said Cecilia.
“After the explanation which has taken place between us this
evening, it is impossible that we can ever entertain much respect for each other again. You know me to be a forger—I know you to be unfaithful to my bed. If it suits you, we will agree to live together beneath the same roof as hitherto—to have our separate apartments—to maintain an appearance of enjoying domestic tranquillity—and each to follow his own pursuits without leave or remonstrance on the part of the other. You will never interfere with me—I will never interfere with you. If you hear that I have a mistress, you will take no notice of it: if I know that you have a lover, I shall be equally blind and dumb. Does this please you?”
“Perfectly,” answered Lady Cecilia. “Shall we commit this compact to writing?”
“Oh! with much pleasure,” returned Sir Rupert. “I will draw up two agreements, embodying the conditions of our compact, immediately. You can retain one; and I will keep the other.”
The baronet set to work, and, in a most business-like manner, wrote out the compact. He then read it to Lady Cecilia, who signified her approval of its terms. A counterpart was written; and the husband and wife signed the papers that released them from all the moral obligations of their marriage-vows!
They then retired to their separate apartments, better pleased with each other, perhaps, than they had been for a long—long time.
The reader need scarcely be informed that Lady Cecilia said nothing to her husband relative to the mysterious letter containing the Bank note for a thousand pounds.
On the following morning Lady Cecilia repaired to the abode of Mr. Greenwood. When she arrived in Spring Gardens, she found the street completely blocked up with a train of charity children—boys and girls, marshalled by the parish beadle, and accompanied by the schoolmaster and school-mistress. The girls were attired in their light blue dresses, plain straw bonnets, white collars, and pepper-and-salt coloured cloaks; and their arms, red with the cold, were only half covered with their coarse mittens. The boys wore their muffin caps, short coats, and knee-breeches; and each was embellished with a large tin plate, or species of medal, affixed like a badge of honour, to the breast. Their meagre countenances, their thin arms, and lanky legs, did not speak much in favour of the quantity of food which constituted their diurnal meals.
The Mysteries of London Volume 1 Page 99