Mrs. Barnes and her own maid were immediately summoned, but both declared themselves alike ignorant of the departure. On examining her mistress’s room however, Mrs. Roberts gave it as her decided opinion, that she had gone out, as the satin shoes she had put on, when dressing for dinner, were left, and those, most likely to be chosen for walking, gone.
“But where on earth can she be?” exclaimed Mrs. Heathcote looking seriously frightened— “Where bad we better send to look for her, Mrs. Barnes?”
“Upon my word, ma’am, I can’t say,” replied the housekeeper with very evident astonishment. “I never knew Miss Martin Thorpe stir out of the house, at this time of night, since she came to it..... May I be so bold as to ask if there was any reason for her taking herself off in this strange manner?”’
The Heathcote family and Sir Charles Temple exchanged glances of consultation as to the answer which should be given to this very natural question $ but they all felt the presence of the lady’s maid a restraint, and the old servant of the mansion was therefore answered with more reserve than would have been maintained towards her, had she been alone, by Major Heathcote saying, “Upon my word, Mrs. Barnes, it is by no means very easy to understand what has happened, but it is certainly very necessary, or at any rate very proper, that we should learn if possible where the young lady is gone. Can either of you give any guess, as to this?”
“No, indeed, sir,” was the decided answer of Mrs. Barnes; but Mrs. Roberts, after vainly looking round the circle in search of light upon this very mysterious manœuvre, condescended to say, “If my mistress really is gone anywhere, it must be to Squire Brandenberry’s; for that is the only place where she is anyways intimate.”
“That is all very well then,” said Sir Charles, “if she is there, she is of course safe.”
“But ought I not to go to her, ma’am?” demanded Mrs. Roberts; “I can’t but think she will be greatly in want of my attendance.”
“It will, I think, be better to wait for her orders,” said Major Heathcote, in a tone of authority that settled the question, whereupon the two female chefs left the room to exhaust their own brains and those of the entire household, by interminable conjectures respecting this most incomprehensible occurrence.
The servants’ hall accordingly became the scene of a most animated discussion; Mrs. Barnes openly proclaiming her belief that the young lady had certainly done something or other, which she ought not to have done, and Mrs. Roberts maintaining with equal pertinacity that it was quite impossible she could have done any such thing; and that it was very hard indeed, if such a lady as Miss Martin Thorpe, with such a fortune at her command, and only a few months to pass before she was quit of all her plagues and troubles, and quite entirely her own mistress, could not go out and visit anybody she pleased, without being drawn over the coals for it.
Mrs. Barnes was in the very act of beginning such a reply to this as might have endangered the harmony of the party, when the foreign servant of the returned wanderer entered the room, and put into her hands a slip of paper, on which was written in a hand very carefully disguised —
“Please to come to me, Mrs. Barnes, (Signed)— “TIMOTHY JENKINS.”
“Soh!” she exclaimed.... “I suppose I have got to go and doctor this yellow-faced gentleman, as you call him, William; and that will be queer enough, seeing that I have never yet set my eyes upon him.... At least, if he is not ill, I can’t guess what it is as he wants with me.”
But notwithstanding any queerness she might find in the summons, Mrs. Barnes was not a person to delay obedience to any guest thus applying to her, and she immediately mounted to the room occupied by the stranger.
On entering it, she found him seated beside the fire, with his pipe in his hand, and the embroidered skull-cap on his head. He looked at her very earnestly for a moment, without speaking, and then said in a kind and gentle tone, “Come in, Mrs. Barnes, and shut the door.”
The good woman remained for a few seconds motionless; but the room was very ill-lighted, there being only one small wax taper and the fire, to scare away the darkness amidst which the still unacknowledged master of the mansion chose to sit; and wishing, as it seemed, to see more clearly the person who addressed her, the housekeeper suddenly advanced, seized one of the candles which stood on the dressing-table, and lighting it with all speed at the flame of the taper, held it high, so as to illuminate to advantage the face she wished to examine. For a moment Mr. Thorpe turned his head away from her, but thinking better of it faced about again, removed the scull-cap from his head, and smiled as he fixed his eyes upon her.
“The Lord in Heaven be merciful to me!” cried the poor woman, trembling from head to foot.... “Is it a spirit?... Or is it only my fancy that is making a fool of me?”
“You have not then quite forgotten me, Barnes?” said Mr. Thorpe standing up before her; “and yet you seem more than half afraid to acknowledge that you know me?”
“Afraid!... No, not afraid of anything but being mistaken. But oh! sir!... If you are not indeed Mr. Cornelius, for the love of Heaven tell me so at once!”
“And if I am Mr. Cornelius, Barnes, what then?”
“Why then.... The Lord be blessed and praised for having sent you back to drive that griping devil from us, that you have scared away!...”
And then followed a loud lament upon his not having appeared in time to close his father’s eyes.... painful enough for the penitent son to hear, but more meekly listened to, from the old woman who had often chid his youth, than when Sir Charles Temple had uttered it. But the look of deep misery which appeared settling on his brow, as she proceeded, checked his old friend more effectually than any chiding could have done; and abruptly breaking off in the midst of her profitless wailing, she turned to the expression of the most cordial and heartfelt congratulations, more cordial and more heartfelt unquestionably from the nature of the sentiment which the good woman entertained for the individual who would be dispossessed of her ill-used wealth by his arrival.
A thorough good understanding being thus established between them, the old servant was made to sit down with her new master; and if anything had been wanting to the just estimate which Mr. Thorpe had already formed of his relatives, the two hours of unreserved conversation which ensued would have supplied it.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
Before the greatly altered party at Thorpe-Combe met on the following morning at breakfast, the news of Miss Martin’s elopement with Mr. Brandenberry, in a post-chaise and four, was known to every individual in the house, and probably to most of the individuals out of it, for the circuit of a mile or two.
The tone of observation produced by it among Mr. Thorpe’s guests was of course various, though with the exception of Algernon they all looked exceedingly grave. But he, spite of his genuine endeavours to conceal a degree of mirth, which really seemed almost indecorous, considering the near relationship of the lady to nearly all present, could not hear the subject discussed, without again and again giving way to bursts of laughter. The Misses Wilkyns looked excessively shocked at this levity; Major Heathcote chid the boy, Mrs. Heathcote really looked vexed, Florence shook her head, and Sir Charles Temple endeavoured to frown, though more than once he seemed to feel the mirthful impropriety infectious. But Mr. Thorpe appeared altogether puzzled by it, and after watching the boy for some time with considerable symptoms of impatience, he said, —
“Algernon!.... That you are glad Sophia Martin should be gone away is very natural, for I know she did not like you, and I suppose you know it also. But why you should find her running away with a man whose proposals have not been made in the usual way to her friends and guardians, so excellent a joke, I cannot imagine. I think it is a disgrace to us all, and I do not like your enjoying it so violently.”
“I am rather ashamed of it myself, sir, I must confess,” replied Algernon; “but after all, it is not my cousin Sophy, you know, at whom I am laughing — that would be worse still, I suppose; it is only at Mr. Brandenb
erry.”
“Let those laugh that win, Algernon. It is Mr. Brandenberry who has cause to laugh, I think.”
“How, sir? Cause to laugh, when he has married Sophia Martin, under the belief that he was leading Sophia Martin Thorpe, of Thorpe-Combe, to the altar?”
“You abominable boy!” returned Mr. Thorpe laughing, “you do not pretend to believe that she has married him without telling him what has happened?”
“Why do not you believe it, sir?” demanded Algernon gravely.
“Good Heavens, boy, no,” returned Mr. Thorpe, looking really angry with him.
“Let us talk no more about it, dear Mr. Thorpe,” said Algernon colouring— “Of course you will not mind any nonsense of mine.”
“Most certainly I shall not,” replied his cousin, changing the conversation.... But somehow or other Mr. Thorpe could not get the idea out of his head, that his favourite Algernon had judged the unfortunate Sophia with unjustifiable harshness; and it vexed him. Nothing perhaps could have so greatly tended to soften his own feelings towards her, as this. He interpreted her elopement by supposing that Mr. Brandenberry, having won her affections, had agreed with her to conceal his pretensions till she should be of age, and beyond the reach of any control from her guardians — but that, having regained her liberty at the expense of her estate, her lover had persuaded her immediately to profit by it, probably not doubting that she would still possess sufficient fortune to make her an excellent match for him; and moreover to render it very likely, that his pretensions to her hand would be still strongly opposed by the family. All this was likely enough, and though not perfectly correct on the part of the gentleman, had nothing preposterously dishonourable in it. But the idea suggested by Algernon, that Sophia had tricked a gentleman into marrying her, by inducing him to elope before the alteration in her circumstances could be known to him, had something in it that he could not very easily forgive the boy for imagining. Notwithstanding this first gentlemanlike burst of indignation, however, he could not contrive to get the disagreeable notion out of his head. Sophia, as he had seen and heard her at old Giles’s cottage.... Sophia devouring her savoury morsels in secret.... Sophia, with the ample fortune of which she then believed herself possessed, slandering the gentle unportioned Florence and her destitute brother, in order to prevent their sharing his liberality with herself.... Sophia, under all these circumstances, rose before him again and again, till he began to feel that it might be just possible Algernon was right.
From the moment he had determined upon reclaiming his estate, Mr. Thorpe’s purpose was to give ten thousand pounds to Sophia Martin, little as he liked or loved her, but he now resolved before he made known his intentions on this or any other point, to ascertain to a certainty whether the suspicions of Algernon were just. For this purpose he determined to be at Broad Grange to receive the fugitives on their return; and having requested the whole party assembled at the Combe, to remain his guests for another week, he arranged his plans without a single confidant, save his Arab groom, so as to give him a fair chance of encountering the newly married couple before the bridegroom should have learned the news of his return, if indeed the bride had intended to keep it from him.
It was not difficult to calculate with tolerable accuracy, the probable period at which the fugitive pair were likely to reach Broad Grange; and the carriage road to it, after passing the Combe Lodge, being three miles, whereas that through his shrubberies was less than one, his faithful Asiatic had abundance of time to give him warning when to mount the fleet little animal he usually rode so as to send him scampering through the shrubbery path, without any risk of being too late to receive Mr and Mrs. Richard Brandenberry in their own porch.
No plan could more perfectly succeed; and Mr. Thorpe, the actual possessor of Thorp-Combe, stood ready in broad day-light to greet them there, as they descended from the chaise.
It is but justice, however, to the eccentric but not ungenerous Cornelius, to declare that he would not thus have presented himself, had he not very justly come to the conclusion, that his presence there could not fail of doing his little-liked, but perhaps wrongly suspected cousin, more good than harm. For, if guiltless of what Algernon suspected, it could not but be consolatory to her to be received with forgiveness, and the promise of ten thousand pounds, by the relative from whom she probably anticipated very scanty kindness; while on the other hand, if she had indeed beguiled a lover of her wealth to marry her without it, the discovery of her being the better plotter of the two could never be made under circumstances more likely to ensure her forgiveness from her irritated bridegroom, than when she was saluted with a friendly welcome by the only person in existence who could pay him for forgiving her.
Mr. Brandenberry, the moment the chaise stopped, opened the door himself, and sprang to the ground with so much graceful gaiety, as might well make his lady forget, if anything could, that no attentive serving men were there to do this office for him. Sophia took his offered hand, and descended. Perhaps at that moment there existed a pretty even balance in her mind, between the dread of the approaching discovery and the triumph of having outwitted the mercenary bridegroom, whose adoration she had ever felt to be in so great a degree addressed to her acres. But nevertheless she endured a pretty sharp pang of terror, as she saw the detested form of her cousin Thorpe step forward from the porch. But even then, neither her courage nor her cunning forsook her. “Here,” she said, “is the man whose interference I feared might prevent our marriage, my dear Richard!” hanging lovingly upon her bridegroom’s arm. “But, thank Heaven! it is now too late!”
“Does not Mr. Brandenberry then know of my return, Sophia?” said Mr. Thorpe approaching her.
“No, sir, he does not,” she replied with unshrinking courage; “and you may now inform him of it, if you will.”
Somewhat astonished at the familiar manner in which his bride was thus addressed, by a person totally a stranger to him, and still more so, at the lady’s manner of replying to him, Mr. Brandenberry rather sharply turned towards Mr. Thorpe, and said, “May I inquire, sir, who it is that I have the honour of seeing?”
“Assuredly, Mr. Brandenberry, you have every right to make the inquiry, and I have every inclination to answer it.... if indeed on looking at me with attention, you cannot answer it yourself,” was the reply; and as he made it, Mr. Thorpe looked him lull in the face and smiled, which he had invariably found to be the most certain manner of making himself recognised.
It must be remembered that when presenting himself at the Hereford ball, Mr. Thorpe had wished and endeavoured as much as possible to disguise his person, and that now his purpose was to make himself known; so that, when the bridegroom set about the examination to which he was thus challenged, no recollection of Mr. Jenkins occurred to puzzle him; nevertheless he looked earnestly in the face of his mysterious visitor for a minute or two, before any idea of the terrible truth suggested itself.... But at last it came upon him like a thunder-bolt, with a shock unmitigated by any mixture of doubt.... and at the same instant, the treacherous manœuvre of Sophia stood revealed before him!
The blow was terrible.... but Mr. Brandenberry did not altogether lose his recollection. He remembered, both that the gentleman who stood before him was the near relation of his bride, and moreover that he could not betray all he felt on the occasion, without betraying also the mercenary nature of the addresses which had won her. ONE look he certainly did give her, but it was askance.... and then rallying with the recollection that Thorpe was an honourable name, and would be sullied in the eyes of all men were the lady who had borne it, as its chief, to come portionless to the arms of her spouse, he boldly determined to make the best of a very bad matter, and to lose nothing by a too honest avowal of his feelings.
Within two minutes, therefore, after he became convinced that Cornelius Thorpe was Cornelius Thorpe, and his adored heiress no heiress at all, he manfully answered to the challenge of his new relation.... “If it is possible that I may believe my eyes
, when they see what is so very extraordinary, I should say that the long-lost son of our excellent neighbour Mr. Thorpe was returned to life.”
“And not to life only, Mr. Brandenberry, but to the inheritance of his ancestors,” replied Thorpe. “This is neither a place nor a time to talk of what I may be able to do for my cousins, without injury to myself.... But I shall find both; and for the present I wish you both all joy.... and now farewell.”
Mr. Thorpe waited for no answer. Certain that he had said what was more likely to preserve his abominable little relative from actual ill-usage, than anything else he could have spoken, he felt no inclination to prolong the interview, but rapidly gliding off, and seizing the bridle of his gentle horse from the branch of a tree, just beyond sight of the gates, he sprang upon his back, and galloped home again, — perfectly satisfied that the diamond-cut diamond style of union, which had brought the pair together, would, from the caution it demanded on both sides, be likely to secure to both quite as much conjugal happiness as they deserved.
The thought which most completely engrossed Mr. Thorpe on re-entering the house was the injustice he had done to Algernon, and tossing his reins to the groom who was waiting for him on the steps, he ran full speed into the library to seek him. And he found him there; but not alone. Suddenly rising from the chairs in which they had been seated, and coming forward evidently to greet his arrival, were three persons wholly unknown to him. The unexpected group consisted of a middle-aged gentleman in the centre, and a slender youth on each side of him. Algernon who stood near looked at them, and thought of the Laocoon; but the absence of the serpent was not the only dissimilarity, for whereas the faces in the antique group betokened agony, those of the modern one spoke nothing but delight.
Collected Works of Frances Trollope Page 327