by Ellen Wood
“When did you come to Lexington, Mr. Pym?”
The question proceeded from Mrs. Carleton, who had slipped into a seat beside him. He answered that he had arrived only that evening; had been sent for to see a patient.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“A young man suffering from heart disease,” promptly responded Mr. Pym, deeming this positive evasion justifiable under the circumstances.
“And so you took the opportunity to call at Castle Wafer!” she said. And there might have been the slightest possible resentment perceptible in the tone, though not to an ear less quick than the surgeon’s.
“Just so,” he answered. “When we have nothing particular to do with ourselves, we are apt to make use of any past civilities that may be available. I remembered that Mr. Frederick St. John, when I met him at Alnwick, proffered me an invitation to call at Castle Wafer, should I ever travel to its vicinity.”
“Oh!” she said. “Fred St. John’s rather fond of those impromptu invitations. Do you go back to-morrow?”
“Not unless my patient shall have done with me.”
Mr. Pym remained at Castle Wafer, a temporary guest. In the most natural manner conceivable, Frederick St. John, without being suspected of any ulterior motive, pressed the invitation on the little surgeon. Castle Wafer would be a more comfortable roof for him than the Barley Mow, and his sojourn there would afford him, Frederick, an opportunity of improving the acquaintance begun at Alnwick, he graciously observed, when they had met at the funeral of Mr. Carleton St. John. Mr. Pym suffered himself to be persuaded. And thus the surgeon took up his task of watching Mrs. Carleton, a very private-detective; installed thereunto by two anxious parties, neither of whom suspected the connivance of the other. What wheels within wheels there are in this world!
In one sense of the word, the step might have been dispensed with, for it did not serve to prevent the disclosure to Sir Isaac St. John. Mrs. Darling’s great hope from the respite of the two or three days’ watching, was, that she should in the meanwhile succeed in inducing Charlotte to bid adieu to Castle Wafer, and thus obviate the necessity for any appeal to Sir Isaac. It might have proved so, so far as Mr. Pym was concerned; but the initiative was taken by the dean.
Very disagreeably impressed by the fresh doubts of Mrs. Carleton’s sanity, acquired during the evening visit of Mr. Pym to the Rectory, the dean considered that there was now sufficient matter to justify a communication to Sir Isaac. He resolved to make it himself; and on the following morning, the one succeeding Mr. Pym’s arrival, he went up for that purpose to Castle Wafer, and procured a private interview with Sir Isaac in his sitting-room.
A very different story, this, from the one sought to be told the other evening by Frederick. As the dean, calm, sensible, reliable, went through the whole, point by point, concluding with the fact that Mr. Pym was at Castle Wafer for no other purpose than to watch Charlotte Carleton, Sir Isaac listened with increasing wonder.
“And you say Frederick knew of this!” he exclaimed. “Why did he not tell me?”
“He did attempt to tell you; but failed. I suppose his ultra self-consciousness and the fear that even you might misconstrue his motives, withheld him from saying more.”
“How could I be likely to misconstrue them?”
The dean said how. Which certainly did not tend to decrease the wonder of Sir Isaac.
“He has been assuming that Mrs. Carleton was looking after me! That she had designs upon me! Me! You must be mistaking me for Frederick.”
“Certainly not for Frederick. Frederick’s private opinion is, that the young woman hates him. I fancy there’s not much doubt that she would have no objection to your making her Lady St. John.”
When Sir Isaac fully comprehended this hypothesis as to himself, which he had little difficulty in doing, he burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. The dean saw how it was: Isaac St. John had been so firmly fixed in his resolution never to marry, had lived so in it, that the very notion of his breaking it, or of any woman’s thinking she could induce him to break it, seemed to him nothing less than an impossibility.
“Then you never had an idea of Mrs. Carleton?” observed the dean.
“I never had an idea of Mrs. Carleton in that sense of the word, or of any one else,” answered Sir Isaac. “I should as soon think of getting hanged as of getting married. And I do believe you must be wrong in supposing she has entertained such a notion. A young and pretty woman want to tie herself to me! Why, look at me; at what I am. No, no: it is not likely. And it was only the other day she lost her husband and her child; her heart must be buried with them for some time yet to come.”
“Well, there lay the cause of Frederick’s hesitation,” said the dean. “With this idea upon him, no wonder he was tenacious of speaking. I confess I did not agree with him. I thought you were no more likely to take a wife than I am — who possess one already.
“It will be a joke against Frederick for the rest of my days,” said Sir Isaac, “I marry? I wish, by the way, he would marry! But about poor Mrs. Carleton? I should like to see Mr. Pym.”
The surgeon was summoned to the conference. And after the dean’s departure, he disclosed to Sir Isaac the fear of her attempting some injury to Miss Beauclerc or to Honour: of which the dean remained in ignorance.
“There is only one thing to do,” was the conclusion come to by Sir Isaac. “Inhospitable though any such measure may seem, Mrs. Carleton must this day quit Castle Wafer.”
CHAPTER XXXVI.
LOCKED IN.
MR. PYM appeared to make himself at home at Castle Wafer. One of the best chambers had been assigned him, its door opening exactly opposite to the room occupied by Mrs. Carleton and by Prance. And that gentleman retired to rest with his door propped back, and his gaze on the corridor. Perhaps he slept with his eyes open.
In the morning he was up betimes. Going downstairs, he sought Honour, and sat in the housekeeper’s room while he talked to her. He had really no ulterior motive in this; but he was a sociable man, and he merely wished to be civil to the girl, whom he had once seen so much of as Benja’s nurse.
Honour was excessively gratified. In the first place at seeing the surgeon again; in the next at indulging her gossiping propensities. She had heard little or nothing of Alnwick since she quitted it: Mrs. Tritton having left the Hall and the neighbourhood soon after herself. Question after question did she ask Mr. Pym of the changes, and would probably have gone on for an hour of her own good will, but that Mr. Pym, who was remarkably quick of sight and hearing, and why he wore glasses no one ever could make out — detected some faint sound or movement at the partially closed door, as if somebody were listening at it.
“Is any one wanting to come in, Honour?”
Honour pulled the door open, and saw nothing. But a faint rustling, as of some person turning from the door as soon as he spoke, had caught Mr. Pym’s ears.
“Look out,” said he, sharply.
Honour looked out, and was just in time to see the petticoats of a lady disappearing round the corner of the passage, and to recognize them as Mrs. Carleton’s.
“Mrs. Carleton, was it?” observed the surgeon carelessly, as she made the remark. “Does she often pay you a visit here, Honour?”
“I never saw her here before, sir. Perhaps she was coming in search of you.”
“Ah, perhaps so,” replied Mr. Pym, carelessly. “What were you saying, Honour? — that you heard I went over to Germany to see the boy? Well, it’s true. Whether it was Germany or France, or any other habitable part of the globe, though, I can’t take upon myself to say. I could not do him any good. He was at death’s-door then. How did you hear it?”
“From Mrs. Darling, sir. She often said a word to me when she was staying here the last time, and she mentioned that you had been had over to Master George, but it was of no use. What a sad thing it was that the child could not be cured!”
“Ay. There are many sad things in the world, Honour; sadder even
than that. Well, I must go, or I shall keep breakfast waiting. You’ll see me again before I leave.”
He made his way to the breakfast-room, and sat down to breakfast with the rest. Mrs. Carleton’s face was impassive as usual: but the surgeon saw that she watched him just as keenly as he did her. After breakfast, as if to defeat the purpose for which he was staying at Castle Wafer, she shut herself up in Mrs. St. John’s room, and no one could get near her. It was during this time that the interview took place between the dean and Sir Isaac.
“I entrust it all to you, Mr. Pym,” Sir Isaac had said. “Perhaps speaking to Mrs. Darling will be sufficient: but — you know the laws of hospitality — I would rather not appear at all in this matter if I can help it. Let the departure be your doing — you understand. Only in case of necessity bring in my name.”
Mr. Pym’s first step was to seek Mrs. Darling. She was shut up in her room too; so, after waiting for some time, he sent a message to her, and she came to him. The observant surgeon saw that there was a blank, disappointed look in her face.
“I can do nothing with Charlotte,” she exclaimed. “She refuses most positively to quit Castle Wafer: and when I urged it, she put an end to the colloquy by leaving me. What is to be done?”
The surgeon could not say what was to be done. Only that to get away Mrs. Carleton that day was indispensable.
Mrs. Darling, poor woman, began to temporize. Charlotte was perfectly well now, she was sure, and a day or two’s delay could make no difference. To-morrow, perhaps, or the next day, she might be induced to hear reason. At length Mr. Pym — for Mrs. Darling seemed inclined to become obstinate in her turn — was obliged to hint at the commands of Sir Isaac.
Mrs. Darling was bitterly incensed, believing that Mr. Pym had been the informant. “I did not think you would have been so treacherous,” she exclaimed. “You promised me not to speak to Sir Isaac until all means had been tried to get Charlotte away.”
“I did not speak to him. He spoke to me.”
“He spoke to you! First?”
“Yes. He sent for me into his room, and entered upon it.”
“Who could have told him? “ cried Mrs. Darling, after a mortified pause. And Mr. Pym remained silent: it was not his business to speak of the dean.
“The less we discuss this matter the better, Mrs. Darling. It would bring no profit. All we have to do is to remove your daughter. And if I were you I would let this hint about Sir Isaac be as if it had not been spoken. It would be painful to you to show consciousness of it; doubly painful to him. He is a true gentleman: but tales have been carried to him of Mrs. Carleton’s state of mind, and he deems it necessary that she should not remain.”
“I would give half I am worth to know who it is that has been meddling!” exclaimed Mrs. Darling. “What is to be done? Will you speak to Charlotte?”
“Of course I will. If you cannot persuade her, I must try my powers. It will be a very awkward thing if we have to get her away by force or stratagem.”
“By stratagem we shall never accomplish it,” said Mrs. Darling. “Charlotte is too keen to be imposed upon.”
He waited until luncheon-time. He thought it better to lead to an interview with Mrs. Carleton, than to send and demand it. She came down with Mrs. St. John, and the luncheon passed off as usual, every one being at table except Sir Isaac. Mr. Brumm said his master was taking luncheon in his room, but offered no other apology for his absence, and Georgina went boldly in to him.
But Mr. Pym was destined to be defeated, at least in a degree. He whispered to Mrs. Carleton to come and walk with him on the terrace as they rose from table, and drew her hand within his arm and went out with her. It was a dull lowering day, threatening rain, and she looked up at the skies with rather a vacant look. Mr. Pym told her as gently as he could, that it was deemed necessary she should have change of air; that he and Mrs. Darling were both anxious on the score of her health, and thought immediate change of scene essential. She laughed in his face; she set him and her mother at defiance; she spoke of appealing to Sir Isaac: and then Mr. Pym hinted — as he had done to her mother — that Sir Isaac acquiesced in the measure.
No sooner had the words left his lips, than a change passed over her face. Medical man though he was, Mr. Pym shrank from it: never had its aspect been more livid, its expression so wildly terrible. He caught her arm, put it within his, and began to speak words of soothing kindness. But she broke from him; muttered something incoherently about the plot against her, which those in the house had been planning to carry out, and escaped indoors. Mr. Pym had little doubt that by “those in the house,” she meant Miss Beauclerc and Honour. It is very likely she included himself and Mrs. Darling.
He followed her; he called Mrs. Darling to his aid. That she had secreted herself in her own room, they found at once, since the door was fastened inside, and no reply was given to their knocks. The surgeon grew alarmed. This state of things was more than likely to end in a paroxysm of insanity. By-and-by mutterings were heard inside; violent pacings of the room; short derisive laughs; and one shrill scream. Mrs. Darling was nearly beside herself; and Prance — Prance the impassive — for once betrayed terror.
“I shall break open the door,” said Mr. Pym.
But he went first of all to apprise Sir Isaac of what he was going to do. Sir Isaac gave him carte blanche to do what he pleased; but urged that poor Mrs. Carleton’s comfort should be studied as much as was practicable. And under the circumstances he did not press for her departure; only stipulating that Mr. Pym should undertake the charge of her until she did leave.
When Mr. Pym got back to the corridor, he found the dismayed watchers and waiters outside it, Mrs. Darling and Prance, had been joined by another — Honour Tritton.
It is not possible for a commotion such as this to occur in a house without its sounds transpiring to the household. Quietly as these knockings and callings had been carried on, news of them penetrated to the servants below. “Mrs. Carleton had bolted herself in her chamber, and could not be got at.” Honour, in her interest, it may be in her curiosity, went upstairs at once. Perhaps she deemed she had a sort of right to do so, from her former relations with Mrs. Carleton.
Mr. Pym scarcely noticed her. The noise inside the room had increased; that is, the pacings to and fro were louder and quicker. Mrs. Darling clasped her hands in helpless dismay: she lifted her imploring face to the surgeon; she put her lips to the key-hole for the twentieth time.
“Charlotte! my darling Charlotte! I want to come in. I must come in. I — I have left a key in your room. It will soon be time to dress for dinner.”
There was no response. But the pacings increased to a run.
The dull day had become darker, and Honour turned into Miss Beauclerc’s room, and brought out a tall wax candle, lighted, in a silver candlestick.
“Mrs. Carleton, I must beg of you to unlock the door,” cried out the surgeon. “If you do not, I shall be compelled to break it open. Pray undo it.”
It was of no avail. A mocking laugh was again heard, but there was no other response.
“Take care of yourselves,” said Mr. Pym.
The door flew open with a burst. The first object they saw was Mrs. Carleton, standing against the opposite wall and glaring at them. Glaring! the word has been used often in regard to her eyes at times, but there is no other so applicable. Mr. Pym went straight up to her. She eluded him with a spring, pounced upon the unsuspecting and terrified Honour, and in another moment was grappling with her, a fight for dear life.
Poor lady! What her thoughts had been during that selfimprisonment she alone knew. That they had tended rapidly to increase the mind’s confusion, to speed her on to the great gulf of insanity, already so near at hand, perhaps to have been its very turning-point, there could be no doubt of. And it may be that the sight of Honour amidst her enemies, of Honour bearing a lighted candle, recalled her mind to that dreadful night not yet two years gone by.
Whatever it may have been, whet
her any single cause, or many causes combined: the mortification of being turned from Castle Wafer, the visit of Mr. Pym, the seeing him that morning with Honour, or the opposition and confusion of this one afternoon: certain it was, that the moment her mother and Prance had been dreading in secret so long, had come. Mrs. Carleton was insane.
It took all three, the surgeon, Mrs. Darling, and Prance, to secure her in her violence: just as it had taken more than one to secure her father in the years gone by. Honour was released, terrified nearly to death, bruises on her arms, and a bite on her cheek, of which she would never lose the mark.
When she was secured from doing harm to herself or others, Mr. Pym touched Prance, and motioned her to a room apart. Had Prance been capable of astonishment at anything, she might have felt it then. He closed the door and pointed to a chair.
“The time for evasion has gone by,” he began. “To-morrow will see your mistress in an asylum, Prance, from which she can never more be released in safety. And — do you know for what cause I have brought you here?”
“No, sir,” answered Prance; but in some hesitation, as if she half-divined what the cause might be.
“I am about to speak of that past night at Alnwick; the burning of Benja. I feel as sure” — and he raised his finger to her impressively— “that your mistress had something to do with that, and that you knew it, as I am that you are before me there. Few persons can deceive me; and your manner that night and subsequent to it, clever as you may have thought yourself, convinced me there was a tale to tell. I did not press for it then; I had my reasons; but I must hear it now.”
“I had nothing to do with it, sir,” replied Prance, not daring to equivocate; feeling perhaps, with him, that the time for suppression had gone by.