The Wedding Portrait

by Fiona Hill

  “May I speak?” she asked prettily, at length, sure of his consent.

  “Is anything the matter?” he replied.

  “No, but—”

  ‘“Then, no, you may not speak. Sit quietly, please.”

  Laura’s eyes widened questioningly.

  “And pray, do not alter your expression,” he added curtly.

  “Odious man!” she thought. “I am sure there is no need for him to stare so at my arm. What can he be doing? He looks at me as thought I were—as though I were—” her mind groped for the right word, “a thing! A vase, perhaps, or a chair…” A few moments later she chastised herself for having been so critical. He, after all, was the artist; no doubt he knew what he was about. Still, it was most disconcerting—and after half an hour, positively vexatious—to be peered at like a scientist’s specimen. She sought several times to meet and hold his glance, but it was useless: he would not reciprocate. The eyes she scanned so searchingly betrayed no recognition at all.

  Forty-five minutes after the session had begun, Laura started to envy the canvas that absorbed all Mr. Lowland’s attention. She was jealous of her own picture. When the sitting was finally interrupted by a knock on the door, followed immediately by the entrance of Miss Emily Shaw, she could only be glad.

  “Laura,” Emily cried, her sullenness seemingly forgotten, “the most extraordinary thing!”

  “What is it, my dear?” she asked, breaking her pose at last, and hoping it would vex Ashley.

  “I was—oh, excuse me; I did not mean to intrude,” she said, suddenly becoming aware of Mr. Lowland, “but I simply must tell you. I was wandering about upstairs—in the servant’s quarters, in fact. I hope you do not mind!” she digressed again, blushing a little, for she knew she ought not to have been there.

  “It is quite all right,” came the answer.

  “Well then, I was wandering about, and at the end of the corridor of chambers, I came to a wall—at least, I thought it was a wall. I was feeling a little dreamy, and sad, and so I put my hand against the stones, and simply stood there, thinking for a while, when suddenly I realized that what I leaned against was not a wall in the least, but a door! It is disguised to look like the end of the passage—someone must have worked days upon it—but I am sure there is a chamber behind it. A secret chamber, Laura!” she emphasised, as her cousin persisted in looking calm.

  “Why do you think it is a door?” asked Laura. “What use should anyone have had for a secret chamber?”

  “I do not think it is a door,” Emily retorted, with a trace of her old crossness. “I know it is a door. You see, they must have cut the stones, and faced them off smooth on the back, to make it seem as if it were part of the masonry, but I am sure they are merely stuck on the wood behind them. I know! I got down on my knees and looked, and sure enough, there is a crack under the entryway; the rest of the wall is flush against the floor.”

  “If there is such a portal,” Laura reasoned carefully, “then why did you not go in?”

  “But I could not!” Emily exclaimed impatiently. “For one thing, there is no knob, and for another, the jamb has been coated with plaster. I am sure it is only the lightest coat! Do you think Sir Kenneth will open it for us?”

  “I think Sir Kenneth will not believe it exists,” Laura returned. “You must admit, it is quite unlikely!”

  “But it is there!” Emily insisted. She was rather unused to having her word doubted, and she began to be fretful. “You must come and see it,” she said, taking her cousin’s hand. “You, too,” she added, mainly out of politeness, to Ashley.

  “I shall be delighted to come,” said the artist, who had been about to end the session anyway. “It sounds most intriguing.”

  “I should think so!” Emily asserted indignantly, for she suspected that he was merely indulging her. “Wait and see.” She led them through the great front hall and up the stairway, hurrying past those chambers inhabited by the family and their guests and turning at the end of the corridor. They followed her up a narrow set of stairs and into a passage lined on either side with doors. “Those, I suppose, are merely the servants’ rooms,” she said, gesturing airily, “but once they must have been the monks’ cells. This was an abbey, you know,” she explained to Ashley.

  He nodded gravely.

  “This,” Emily said at last, pointing to the stone wall that ended the corridor, “is what I wanted to show you!”

  Laura looked at the masonry curiously, but it seemed quite ordinary. She would have had no qualms in identifying it as a wall. Mr. Lowland, however, accorded the stonework more careful attention. He knelt on the floor as Emily said she had done and found the narrow crack she had observed. Then he traced his finger vertically along the place where the jamb would naturally be.

  “Indeed,” he said finally, “there may well be something here.” Since he had the advantage of Emily Shaw in height by at least a foot, he was able to run his hand along the top of the wall as well. “There does seem to be a ledge here,” he said uncertainly, “but it is hard to tell. Look, Miss Fieldon,” he continued, gesturing, “Emily is quite right about the plaster along the jamb, if it is a jamb. It is very thin, indeed, and it seems to be cracking.” He examined the threshold once more and then turned to Emily. “We shall have to revisit this place with candles to be certain, but I believe you may have found something!”

  Emily positively glowed.

  “You are quite an observer, Miss Emily,” Mr. Lowland continued, as they retraced their steps towards the main part of the Abbey. “Perhaps you will be an artist someday; it is largely a matter of careful observation, you know.” With these and other gallant remarks, Ashley complimented the girl, while Laura followed quietly behind. “Miss Fieldon, where may we find some candles?” he inquired, turning to her as they reached the front hall. “I fancy we should not disturb Sir Kenneth with this news until we are certain we have something to tell him.”

  Laura went off to the kitchen to find the necessary articles, leaving Mr. Lowland and Emily to converse alone in the hall. Ashley continued to flatter her observance and to quiz her upon what had made her so dreamy as she stood in the servants’ corridor. He did this in a spirit of pure chivalry, for he disliked to see anyone discontented, and it was impossible for him to think her happy after observing, though surreptitiously, her performance at breakfast. Laura, however, did not know what was in his thoughts, and she found herself something less than cheerful as she executed her commission. She was not so foolish as to believe that Mr. Lowland might actually be attracted to her younger cousin. Emily was much too young for that, and Ashley knew it. Rather, she thought he encouraged Emily’s silly notions so as to avoid conversation with herself; after their interview last night he probably thought her narrow-minded and conventional. She could hardly blame him.

  Laura returned to the front hall and handed Mr. Lowland the candles.

  “Shall we go up again?” he asked.

  “You may,” said Laura, trying to look indifferent. “I believe I shall go and change into more ordinary clothes.”

  “Oh, but you must not!” Mr. Lowland objected. “I wish to have another session in a little while; the light will still be good for some time.”

  “Very well,” Laura answered tonelessly. She went off, feeling vaguely piqued, to tell her father of Emily’s discovery. Knocking at the door of the library, she found that he and Thaddeus were closeted therein, discussing plans for the wedding.

  “I beg your pardon, Papa,” she said, smiling weakly at her betrothed, “but there is something I should like to tell you.”

  “Then come in, my dear, and sit down,” said Sir Kenneth. He beamed at the young couple. “You and Thaddeus do look fine together; a very handsome pair. Go on, Thad, you may take Laura’s hand now, you know—very proper, when you are to be wed so soon.”

  Sir Kenneth had meant this encouragement to be kindly, for he well remembered how eager and shy he himself had been before he and Lady Eleanor were married.
Its effect, however, was rather to discomfit Thaddeus than to reassure him; he did not at all dislike to touch his betrothed, but neither did he feel any great compulsion to do so. Now, however, he had no choice about it. He took Laura’s small hand awkwardly and held it loosely in his own. “What was it you wished to say?” he asked her, to alleviate his embarrassment.

  “Well, it may be nothing at all,” she explained, “but Emily seems to have found a secret chamber in the servants’ corridor.”

  “Secret chamber? But how?”

  “It is at the end of the passage, if it exists at all. She seems to think the stone wall there is false—that is, that the other side of it faces on another room, rather than the outside of the Abbey. She and Mr. Lowland are up there now, investigating,” she added.

  “This is very odd!” ejaculated Sir Kenneth. “Still, I suppose it may be so. Harkness Abbey is over four hundred years old,” he mused, with a touch of pride.

  “Anyway, I thought you would like to know,” Laura added listlessly.

  “Like to know!” cried Thaddeus, dropping her hand and springing up from the sofa. “I should say so! Laura, this is famous!”

  He glanced excitedly at Sir Kenneth. “Do you think we might go up and have a look? I mean, don’t you think we ought to?”

  “I don’t think you’ll be able to rest until we do, young man,” said Sir Kenneth, amused. “Will you come with us, Laura?”

  “No, thank you,” she replied. “I have seen it already.” She wandered off disconsolately towards the Blue Saloon as her father and Thaddeus hurried up the stairs.

  Her mother and Elizabeth were seated by the fire in the Blue Saloon, both engaged in embroidering, when Laura entered.

  “Good morning, my love,” said Lady Eleanor to her daughter. “Come and help me thread this needle, will you? Your eyes are better than mine, you know.” Laura seated herself on the settee beside her mother and successfully guided the recalcitrant thread. “Thank you, love,” her mother sighed. “I do not know why I continue to do needlework at my age! My sight is really too poor.”

  “Your age is not so advanced as that, ma’am!” Miss Shaw protested politely.

  “No, but I am hardly a green girl either,” Lady Eleanor answered. “Laura dear, Lizzy and I were just discussing Mr. Lowland. Is he not the most elegant creature?”

  “Indeed.”

  “How did your session go on this morning? Does he work quickly?”

  “He works—very confidently,” Laura responded. “He seems to concentrate utterly upon his canvas. He will not tolerate any distraction.”

  “I am sure it will be a lovely portrait,” Lady Eleanor said. “I hope he has time to do Lizzy’s as well; you would like that, would not you, Elizabeth? And to spend so much time with Mr. Lowland? I daresay it would be most agreeable.”

  Miss Shaw nodded but said nothing, focussing her attention upon a difficult stitch.

  “Where is Thaddeus, Laura?”

  “He is—with my father,” she replied, not wishing to be obliged to explain the secret chamber again.

  “Ah yes, they do get on so well together. Do you not think Laura is the luckiest bride imaginable, Lizzy? Thaddeus is charming, is not he?”

  “He is,” Miss Shaw replied, peering ever more intently at her work.

  “Elizabeth,” said her cousin, “should you like to try walking out with me in the snow later on?”

  “Yes, indeed!” Miss Shaw cried, glad of anything that would take her out of the house and away from Mr. Grey.

  “Good, then. We shall go presently. Oh, but I can’t!” Laura corrected herself in dismay. “Mr. Lowland wishes to work on my picture again.”

  The light in Elizabeth’s handsome eyes faded as she uttered a sympathetic, disappointed “Oh.”

  “Lizzy, if Laura cannot walk out with you, I am sure Thaddeus will,” Lady Eleanor suggested. “He is the most obliging young man imaginable.”

  “Oh no, I could not—”

  “Nonsense! I am persuaded he will like to do it. It is all decided.”

  Elizabeth realised that any further protestation would be both vain and overly conspicuous. It was, in fact, no more than natural for Thaddeus to substitute in an engagement his betrothed could not fulfill. She submitted quietly to her fate.

  In a few moments the party who had been exploring the wall upstairs returned to join them.

  “Eleanor,” said Sir Kenneth, “I believe the Abbey may hold a surprise for us.” He explained Emily’s discovery.

  Lady Eleanor was not at all intrigued. “Do you not recall the chest we found once in the cellar? It was locked, and dusty, and it looked so mysterious! But it turned out to contain nothing more than a set of linen napkins. I am sure this secret chamber will be found to be empty.”

  “Nonetheless, we may as well try to open it,” Sir Kenneth replied. “It will be easy enough to loosen the plaster that covers the jamb, but I fear it may have to be forced open after mat. It appears to have no knob, you know.”

  “It sounds like a lot of fuss over nothing,” said his wife, refusing to be curious, “but of course you will do as you like. It does seem a shame, though, to have to go to the trouble of forcing it. How will you do it?”

  “I do not know,” said Sir Kenneth, thinking.

  “Perhaps there is a spring concealed somewhere nearby,” Elizabeth suggested timidly. Sir Kenneth and the others laughed at the dramatic notion, but Thaddeus came to her defence.

  “I don’t see why not,” he said. “The hinges must be inside, for there is no trace of them. It all seems to have been contrived so cleverly, I am sure a hidden latch is quite probable.”

  At this juncture Garson entered to announce that a nuncheon was served for those who desired it, and further investigation of the secret chamber was, for the moment, postponed.

  Chapter IV

  It was decided at last that a stonemason would be engaged to force open the concealed door. Sir Kenneth promised to find one as soon as possible, but the young people, especially Thaddeus and the Shaws, were disappointed nonetheless. A wind had risen during the latter part of the morning, and the snow was being blown into tremendous drifts. It was quite clear that no one, stonemason or otherwise, would be able to approach the Abbey for some time.

  The party broke up directly after their nuncheon. Elizabeth, who remained unbending before Emily’s protestations, sent her younger sister to the Blue Saloon, to practise upon the pianoforte. Mr. Lowland established Laura in her velvet chair in the drawing room and set to work again. Sir Kenneth and the rector retired to the library, Lady Eleanor and Miss Webb to a private parlour. The two elder Shaws sat with Thaddeus Grey in the breakfast room, conversing sporadically.

  “I’ll lay five pounds we find a skeleton in the secret chamber,” said Jacob invitingly to Mr. Grey.

  “My regrets, sir, but I can’t take you up on that,” Thaddeus responded. “I think nothing more likely myself.”

  “Do you really?” asked Elizabeth in spite of herself, a small shudder running down her spine.

  “Indeed,” Thaddeus affirmed. “In fact, there are probably two, locked in an eternal and illicit embrace.”

  “Oh dear!” cried Lizzy.

  “And their ghosts, no doubt, yet wander the Abbey. They will be disturbed by our meddling with their remains, and will seek vengeance.” He enjoyed teasing Miss Shaw.

  “Surely not!” Elizabeth exclaimed, truly affrighted.

  “On the contrary!” said Thaddeus, leering at her in what he imagined to be a ghostly fashion. “Tonight, no doubt, they will come to warn us—to persuade us not to reopen their secret, awful tomb.” He grinned, expecting her to return the smile, but she did not.

  “Good Heavens, Thad,” Jacob ejaculated, “I believe you’ve really scared her!”

  “Oh, I am sorry!” said Thaddeus, truly penitent. “Please, I was only bamming.” He walked over to Elizabeth’s chair and took her hand gently, as she continued to breathe uneasily. Her face had taken on
an ashen tinge. “There is no need to be worried,” he continued in a low tone of real concern. “I shall take care of you.” Elizabeth looked up suddenly into his eyes, which searched hers anxiously. He had leaned over so that their faces were no more than a few inches apart. “Don’t fret, please,” he begged in a whisper.

  Some part of Elizabeth enabled her to gain control of herself. “Pray, do not be concerned,” she said uncertainly. “I know you were merely jesting.” Her pallor increased as she realised he had taken her hand. She withdrew it jerkily. “Do listen to Emily!” she continued, trying to smile. “Is it not grotesque?”

  Indeed, the strains that floated down the hall from the blue salon were dissonant in the extreme. Emily was working on minor-key scales, and it was clear she had not yet mastered them.

  “If that music be the food of love,” said Jacob, grinning, “I’m confounded.”

  “It is rather unpleasant,” Thaddeus agreed. “Come, Miss Shaw, I am told you wished to walk out in the snow. Jacob, will you join us?”

  “A walk in the snow!” said Jacob. “Not at all! I’ll wager a pony you both take a chill.”

  “Gammon,” Thaddeus disclaimed. “It will be most enjoyable, and I know Miss Shaw has her heart set upon it.”

  “I am obliged to you, sir, but indeed—” Elizabeth started to say.

  “No more foolishness,” Mr. Grey commanded. “Besides, I owe it to you for scaring you half to death. Go and get your wraps.”

  Ten minutes later they stood outside before the Abbey, trying to discover a trace of the gravel drive they knew lay somewhere beneath their feet.

  “We shall have to forge our own paths,” said Thaddeus cheerfully, as the effort failed. “Where should you like to go?”

  “Oh!” Elizabeth breathed, “it is all so beautiful. It makes one want to whisper, does it not? Soft and hushed, like a church.”