CHAPTER II
One hot summer day, a few months after the marriage, Juliet, returning tothe consulate after a morning spent in very active exercise upon a tenniscourt, was met on the doorstep by Dora, the youngest of the ClarencyButchers, who was awaiting her approach in a high state of excitement.
"Hurry up, Juliet," she cried, as soon as she could make herselfheard. "You'll never guess what there is for you. Something you don'toften get!"
"What is it?" said Juliet, coming up the steps.
"Guess!"
"A present?"
"No; at least I suppose not; but there may be one inside."
"Inside? Oh, then it's a parcel?" asked Juliet good-humouredly.
She felt a mild curiosity, tempered by the knowledge that many thingsprovided a thrill for the ten-year-old Dora, which she, from the advancedage of twenty-three, could not look upon as particularly exciting.
"No, not a parcel," cried Dora, dancing round her. "It's a letter.There now!"
"Then why do you say it's something I don't often get?" asked Julietsuspiciously; "I often get letters. It's an invitation to the Gertignes'dance, I expect."
"No, no, it isn't. It's a letter from England. You don't often get onefrom there, now, do you? You never did before since we've been here. Ialways examine your letters, you know," said Dora, "to see if they lookas if they came from young men. So does Margaret. We think it's time yougot engaged."
Margaret was the next sister.
"It's very good of you to take such an interest in my fate," Julietreplied, as she pulled off her gloves and went to the side-table for theletter. As a matter of fact she was a good deal excited now; for what thechild said was true enough. She might even have gone further, and saidthat she had never had a letter from England, except while Sir Arthur wasthere on leave.
It was a large envelope, addressed in a clerk's handwriting, and she cameto the conclusion, as she tore it open, that it must be an advertisementfrom some shop.
"DEAR MADAM,--We shall esteem it a favour if you can make it convenientto call upon us one day next week, upon a matter of business connectedwith a member of your family. It is impossible to give you furtherdetails in a letter; but if you will grant us the interview we venture toask, we may go so far as to say that there appears to us to be areasonable probability of the result being of advantage to yourself.Trusting that you will let us have an immediate reply, in which you willkindly name the day and hour when we may expect to see you.--We are,yours faithfully,
"FINDLAY & INCE, _Solicitors_."
The address was a street in Holborn.
Juliet read the letter through, and straightway read it through again,with a beating heart. What did it mean? Was it possible she was going tofind her own family at last?
She was recalled to the present by the voice of Dora, whom she nowperceived to be reading the letter over her shoulder withunblushing interest.
"Say," said Dora, "isn't it exciting? 'Something to your advantage!' Justwhat they put in the agony column when they leave you a fortune. I betyour long-lost uncle in the West has kicked the bucket, and left you allhis ill-gotten gains. Mark my words. You'll come back from England alovely heiress. I do wish the others would come in. There's no one in thehouse, except Sir Arthur."
"Where is he?" said Juliet, putting the sheet of paper back into theenvelope and slipping it under her waistband. "You know, Dora, it's notat all a nice thing to read other people's letters. I wonder you aren'tashamed of yourself. I'm surprised at you."
"I shouldn't have read it if you'd been quicker about telling me what wasin it," retorted Dora. "It's not at all a nice thing to put temptation inthe way of a little girl like me. Do you suppose I'm made of cast iron?"
She departed with an injured air, and Juliet went to look for the consul.
"What is it?" he asked, as she put the envelope into his hand. "A letteryou want me to read? Not a proposal, eh?" He smiled at her as he unfoldedthe large sheet of office paper.
"Hullo, what's this?"
He read it through carefully.
"Why, Juliet," he said, when he had finished, "this is very interesting,isn't it? It looks as if you were going to find out something aboutyourself, doesn't it? After all these years! Well, well."
"You think I must go, then," she said a little doubtfully.
"Go? Of course I should go, if I were you. Why not?"
"You don't think it is a hoax?"
"No, no; I see no reason to suppose such a thing. I know the firm ofFindlay & Ince quite well by name and reputation."
"Oh, I hope they will tell me who I am!" cried Juliet. "Have you no ideaat all, father?"
"No, my dear, you know I have not. Besides, I promised Lena I would neverask. You are the child of a friend of hers. That is all I know. I thinkshe scarcely realized how hard it would be for you not to know more whenyou grew up. I often think that if she had lived she would have told youbefore now."
"If you promised her not to ask, I won't ask either," said Julietloyally. "But I hope they'll tell me. It will be different, won't it, ifthey tell me without my asking?"
"I think you might ask," said Sir Arthur. "It is absurd that you shouldbe bound by a promise that I made. And you may be sure of one thing. Yourasking, or your not asking, won't make any odds to Findlay & Ince. Ifthey mean to tell you, they will; and, if they don't, you're not likelyto get it out of them."
"And when shall I go?" cried Juliet. "They say they want me to answerimmediately, you know."
"Oh well, I don't know. In a few days. You will hardly be ready to startto-morrow, will you?"
"I could be ready, easily," said Juliet.
"You're in a great hurry to get away from us," said Sir Arthur, with arather uneasy laugh.
"Not from you." Juliet put her arm through his. "I could never findanother father half as nice as the one I've got. But you could do verywell without so many daughters, you know." She smiled at him mockingly."You're like the old woman who lived in a shoe. You ought to set up aschool for young ladies."
"I don't believe I shall be able to get on without my eldest daughter,"he replied, half-serious. "Still I think it would be better for you ifyour real parents have decided to own up to you. At all events, if theydo not turn out desirable, I shall still be here, I hope; so I don't seehow you can lose anything by taking this chance of finding out what youcan about them."
At this point Lady Byrne came into the room, and the news had to beretold for her benefit; the letter was produced again, and she joinedheartily in the excitement it had caused.
"You had better start on Monday," she said to Juliet. "That will give youtwo days to pack, and to write to an hotel for rooms. Are you going totake her, Arthur?" she added, turning to her husband.
"I would, like a shot," he replied, "but I can't possibly get away nextweek. I've got a lot of work on hand just now. I suppose, my dear," hesuggested doubtfully, "that you wouldn't be able to run over with her?"
Lady Byrne declared that it was impossible for her to do so: she hadengagements, she said, for every day of the following week, which it wasout of the question to break. Had Sir Arthur forgotten that theythemselves were having large dinner-parties on Tuesday and Friday? Whatshe would do without Juliet to help her in preparing for them, she didnot know, but at least it was obvious that some one must be there toreceive his guests. No, Juliet would have to go alone. She was really oldenough to be trusted by herself for three days, and there was no need,that she could see, for her to be away longer.
"She can go on Monday, see the lawyers on Tuesday, and come back onWednesday," said Lady Byrne. "The helplessness of young girls is the onething I disapprove of in your European system of education. It is muchbetter that they should learn to manage their own affairs; and Juliet isnot such a ninny as you seem to think."
"I shall be perfectly all right by myself," Juliet protested.
Sir Arthur did not like it.
"Supposing she is detained in London," he said.
"What
should detain her," demanded his wife, "unless it is the discoveryof her parents? And, if she finds them, I presume they will be capable oflooking after her. In any case, she can write, or cable to us when shehas seen the solicitors, and it is no use providing for contingenciesthat will probably never arise."
So at last it was decided. A letter was written and dispatched to Messrs.Findlay & Ince, saying that Miss Byrne would have pleasure in callingupon them at twelve o'clock on the following Tuesday; and Juliet busiedherself in preparations for her journey.
On Monday morning she left Ostend, in the company of her maid.
It was a glorious August day. On shore the heat was intense, and it was arelief to get out of the stifling carriages of the crowded boat train,and to breathe the gentle air from the sea that met them as they crossedthe gangway on to the steamer. Juliet enjoyed every moment of thejourney; and would have been sorry when the crossing was over if she hadnot been so eager to set foot upon her native soil.
She leant upon the rail in the bows of the ship, watching the whitecliffs grow taller and more distinct, and felt that now indeed sheunderstood the emotions with which the heart of the exile is said toswell at the sight of his own land. She wondered if the sight of theircountry moved other passengers on the boat as she herself was moved, andmade timid advances to a lady who was standing near her, in her need ofsome companion with whom to share her feeling.
"Have you been away from England a long time," she asked her.
"I have been abroad during a considerable period," replied the person sheaddressed, a stern-looking Scotchwoman who did not appear anxious toenter into conversation.
From her severe demeanour Juliet imagined she might be a governess goingfor a holiday.
"You must be glad to be going home," she ventured.
"It's a far cry north to my home," said the Scotchwoman, thawingslightly. "I'm fearing I will not be seeing it this summer. I'll bestopping in the south with some friends. The journey north is awful'expensive."
"I'm sorry you aren't going home," Juliet sympathized, "but it will benice to see the English faces at Dover, won't it? There may even be aScotchman among the porters, you know, by some chance."
"No fear," said her neighbour gloomily. "They'll be local men, I havenae doubt. Though whether they are English or Scots," she added, "I'llhave to give them saxpence instead of a fifty-centime bit; which is oneof the bonniest things you see on the Continent, to my way of thinking."
Juliet could get no enthusiasm out of her; and, look which way she might,she could not see any reflection on the faces of those around her of theemotions which stirred in her own breast. It had been a rough crossing,in spite of the cloudless sky and broiling sunshine, and most of thepassengers had been laid low by the rolling of the vessel. They displayedanxiety enough to reach land; but, as far as she could see, what land itwas they reached was a matter of indifference to them. No doubt, shethought, when the ship stopped and they felt better, they would be moredisposed to a sentimentality like hers.
She found her maid--who had been one of the most sea-sick of thoseaboard--and assisted her ashore, put her into a carriage andministered to her wants with the help of a tea-basket containing thedelicious novelty of English bread and butter. In half an hour's timethey were steaming hurriedly towards London. She was to lodge at asmall hotel in Jermyn Street; and on that first evening even thisseemed perfect to her. The badness of the cooking was a thing sherefused to notice; and the astonishing hills and valleys of the bedcaused in her no sensation beyond that of surprise. She was young,strong and healthy, and there was no reason that trifling discomfortsof this kind should affect her enjoyment. To the shortcomings of thebed, indeed, she shut her eyes in more senses than one, for she wasasleep three minutes after her head touched the pillow, nor did shewake till her maid roused her the next morning.
She got up at once and looked out of the window. It was a fine day again;over the roofs of the houses opposite she could see a blue streak of sky.Already the air had lost the touch of freshness which comes, even toLondon in August, during the first hours of the morning; and the heat inthe low-ceilinged room on the third floor which Juliet occupied for thesake of economy, was oppressive in spite of the small sash windows beingopened to their utmost capacity. But Juliet only laughed to herself withpleasure at the brilliancy of the day. She felt that the weather wasplaying up to the occasion, as became this important morning of her life.For that it was important she did not doubt. She was going to heartremendous news that day; make wonderful discoveries about her birth;hear undreamt-of things. Of this she felt absolutely convinced, and itwould not have astonished her to find herself claimed as daughter by anyof the reigning families of Europe. She was prepared for anything, or soshe said to herself, however astounding; and, that being so, she wasexcited in proportion. Anyone could have told her that, by this attitudeof mind towards the future, she was laying up for herself disappointmentat the least, if not the bitterest disillusions; but there was no one tothrow cold water on her hopes, and she filled the air with castles ofevery style of architecture that her fancy suggested, without anyhindrance from doubt or misgiving.
She dressed quickly, in the gayest humour, but with even more care thanshe usually bestowed upon her appearance; a subject to which she alwaysgave the fullest attention.
"Which dress will Mademoiselle wear?" the maid asked her.
"Why, my prettiest, naturally," she replied.
"What, the white one that Mademoiselle wore for the marriage of Monsieur,her papa?" inquired Therese, scandalized at the idea of such a preciousgarment being put on before breakfast.
"That very one," Juliet assured her, undaunted; and was arrayed in it, inspite of obvious disapproval.
After breakfast they went out, and, inquiring their way to Bond Street,flattened their noses against the shop windows to their mutualsatisfaction.
They had it almost to themselves, for there were not many people left inthat part of London; but more than one head was turned to gaze at thepretty girl in the garden-party dress, who stood transfixed before shopafter shop. This amusement lasted till half-past eleven, when theyreturned to the hotel for Juliet to give the final pats to her hair, andto retilt her hat to an angle possibly more becoming, before she startedto keep her appointment with the solicitors. The next twenty minutes werespent in cross-examining the hotel porter as to the time it would take todrive to her destination, and, having decided to start at ten minutes totwelve, in wondering whether the quarter of an hour which had still toelapse would ever come to an end.
At three minutes to twelve she rang the bell of the office of Messrs.Findlay & Ince.
The Ashiel mystery: A Detective Story Page 2