The Lost Lady of Lone Part 84

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII.

THE STORM BURSTS.

The Duke of Hereward arrived at home the next morning. When the fiacre that brought him from the railway station rolled through the porte-cochere into the court yard and drew up before the main entrance of the Hotel de la Motte, he sprang out with almost boyish eagerness, and ran up the stairs, and rang and knocked with vehemence and impatience.

The gray-haired porter opened the door.

"How is the d.u.c.h.ess, Leblanc? Has she risen? Send some one to let her know that I have arrived," he exclaimed, hurriedly.

_"Helas!_ Monseigneur!" answered the venerable old servant, in a distressed tone.

"What do you mean? Is the d.u.c.h.ess ill? I got a letter from her yesterday, in which she said she was quite well. It met me at Ma.r.s.eilles. She continues well. I hope? Why don't you speak?" impatiently demanded the duke.

"_Mille pardons_. Monseigneur; but madame has gone," sadly replied Leblanc.

"What do you say?" exclaimed the duke, discrediting the evidence of his own ears.

"_Mille pardons_, Monsieur le Duc, Madame la d.u.c.h.esse has gone."

"Gone! the d.u.c.h.ess gone!" exclaimed the duke, in amazement, not unmixed with incredulity.

"Oui; Monseigneur."

"Gone! the d.u.c.h.ess gone! Where?"

"_Miserable_ that I am, Monseigneur, I do not know. I cannot tell.

Will Monsieur le Duc deign to consult the coachman who drove Madame la d.u.c.h.esse in the carriage when she left the house last night, not to return. He can probably give Monseigneur some information," respectfully suggested the old porter.

"Send Dubourg to me in the library, then," said the duke, as he strode down the hall, full of vague alarm, but far from suspecting the fatal truth.

Soon the coachman came to him in the library, and in answer to his questions told how he had driven the d.u.c.h.ess alone to the railway station to catch the night express for Ma.r.s.eilles.

"The night express for Ma.r.s.eilles! Then the foolish child was going to meet me, and must have pa.s.sed me on the road!" said the duke to himself, with a strange blending of flattered affection and anxious fears.

"That will do, Dubourg. The d.u.c.h.ess went down to the seaport to meet me on the steamer, and we have missed each other on the road. It is a pity, but it cannot be helped!" said the duke dismissing his coachman by a wave of his hand.

The man bowed and retired.

"Silly child, to go and do such an absurd and indiscreet thing as that!

I would go down after her by the next train only I should be sure to pa.s.s her on the road again; for she will hasten immediately back when she finds that I have arrived at Ma.r.s.eilles and left for Paris," said the duke to himself, as he rang for his valet and retired to his own room to dress for breakfast.

But there, on the bureau, he found a letter addressed to him in the handwriting of Valerie.

At the moment he picked it up his valet entered the room in answer to his ring.

Some intuition warned the duke to send the man away while he should read his letter.

"Have a warm bath ready for me at nine o'clock, Dubois, and order breakfast at half-past," he said.

The man bowed and left the room.

The duke dropped into a chair, and with a strange, vague foreboding of evil, opened the letter.

Well might he shrink from the dread perusal of the story--the story of her cowardice and folly, and of his own humiliation and despair.

It was Valerie's full confession, the revelation of her woeful history as it is known to the reader, with one single reservation--the name of her lover.

The Duke of Hereward had wonderful powers of self-control. He read the fatal letter through to the bitter end. Then he folded it up carefully, and locked it up in a cabinet for safe-keeping.

And when, fifteen minutes later, his valet came to tell him that it was nine o'clock, and his bath was ready, no one could have guessed from his looks that a storm had pa.s.sed through his soul.

He was rather pale, certainly; but that might well be explained by the fatigue of a long night's journey, and his gray mustache and beard concealed the close compression of his lips. He went through his morning toilet and his breakfast with apparently his usual composure.

After breakfast, however, he inst.i.tuted a cautious but close investigation of the circ.u.mstances attending the flight of the d.u.c.h.ess.

The servants, having nothing to gain from concealment and nothing to fear from communication, spoke freely of the daily visits of the Count de Volaski, continued through the seven weeks of the duke's absence.

Then the dreadful light of conviction burst full upon his startled intelligence. Count Waldemar de Volaski had been her acquaintance at the Court of St. Petersburg! He it was, then, who had been the hero of her foolish love story and mad marriage, before the duke had ever seen her.

He it was who had been her constant visitor during the duke's absence.

He it was who was the companion of her flight!

The duke did not believe Valerie's solemn declaration, that she left Paris only to isolate herself from every one and live a single, lonely life. Valerie had deceived him once, by keeping a fatal secret from him, and he would not trust her now. He believed that she had gone away with the Russian count to remain with him. The duke's rage and jealousy were roused and burning against them both.

He was determined to find out the place of their retreat, and to take immediate and signal vengeance.

He put the case in the hands of the most expert detectives, with instructions to use the utmost caution and secrecy in their investigations.

He permitted his first theory of the d.u.c.h.ess' absence, made in good faith at the time it was first stated--that she had gone down to Ma.r.s.eilles to meet him, and had missed him on the way--to prevail in the household, and penetrate through that medium to the world of Paris.

He left the Hotel de la Motte, which he had only occupied in right of his wife's family, and saying that he should not return until the arrival of the d.u.c.h.ess, he took up his residence at "_Meurice's_."

He shut himself up in his apartments, and never left them. He refused to see all visitors except the detectives in his employment. Thus he escaped the annoyance of having to answer questions and to make explanations.

He had remained at "_Meurice's_" about five days, when Villeponte, the chief detective, came to him and told him that they had succeeded in making out the facts connected with the flight of the d.u.c.h.ess.

The duke, controlling all manifestations of excitement, directed the officer to proceed with the story at once.

Villeponte then related that on the Wednesday of the preceding week, madame, the d.u.c.h.ess of Hereward, had left Paris in company with Monsieur the Count de Volaski; that they took a coupe on the evening express for Ma.r.s.eilles, traveling alone together without servants or attendants; that they were now domiciliated at a vine-dresser's cottage in the little village of San Vito, at the foot of the Appenines.

Having concluded his information, Monsieur Villeponte asked for further instructions.

The duke told the detective that he had no further orders to give; but thanked him for his zeal, congratulated him on his success, paid him liberally, and bowed him out.

That evening the Duke of Hereward, unattended by groom or valet, took a coupe on the night express train for the south of France, and started for Ma.r.s.eilles, en route for Italy.

On the evening of the third day after leaving Paris he reached his destination--the little hamlet of San Vito at the foot of the Appenines.