The Light of Scarthey Part 13

Rene, coming with noiseless bare feet, in the angry yellow dawn of the second day of the storm, to keep an eye on his master's comfort, found him sleeping in his chair with a new look of rest upon his face and a smile upon his lips.

CHAPTER IX

A GENEALOGICAL EPISTLE

... and braided thereupon All the devices blazoned on the s.h.i.+eld, In their own tinct, and added, of her wit, A border fantasy of branch and flower.

_Idylls of the King._

Pulwick Priory, the ancestral home of the c.u.mbrian Landales, a dignified if not overpoweringly lordly mansion, rises almost on the ridge of the green slope which connects the high land with the sandy strand of Morecambe; overlooking to the west the great brown breezy bight, whilst on all other sides it is sheltered by its wooded park.

When the air is clear, from the east window of Scarthey keep, the tall garden front of greystone is visible, in the extreme distance, against the darker screen of foliage; whitely glinting if the sun is high; golden or rosy at the end of day.

As its name implies, Pulwick Priory stands on the site of an extinct religious house; its oldest walls, in fact, were built from the spoils of once sacred masonry. It is a house of solid if not regular proportions, full of unexpected quaintness; showing a medley of distinct styles, in and out; it has a wide portico in the best approved neo-cla.s.sic taste, leading to romantic oaken stairs; here wide cheerful rooms and airy corridors, there sombre vaulted bas.e.m.e.nts and mysterious unforeseen nooks.

On the whole, however, it is a harmonious pile of buildings, though gathering its character from many different centuries, for it has been mellowed by time, under a hard climate. And it was, in the days of the pride of the Landales, a most meet dwelling-place for that ancient race, insomuch as the history of so many of their ancestors was written successively upon stone and mortar, brick and tile, as well as upon carved oak, canvas-decked walls, and emblazoned windows.

Exactly one week before the disaster, which was supposed to have befallen Mademoiselle Molly de Savenaye on Scarthey sands, the acting Lord of Pulwick, if one may so term Mr. Rupert Landale, had received a letter, the first reading of which caused him a vivid annoyance, followed by profound reflection.

A slightly-built, dark-visaged man, this younger brother of Sir Adrian, and vicarious master of his house and lands; like to the recluse in his exquisite neatness of attire, somewhat like also in the mould of his features, which were, however, more notably handsome than Sir Adrian's; but most unlike him, in an emphasised artificiality of manner, in a restless and wary eye, and in the curious twist of a thin lip which seemed to give hidden sarcastic meaning even to the most ordinary remark.

As now he sat by his desk, his straight brows drawn over his amber-coloured eyes, perusing the closely written sheets of this troublesome missive, there entered to him the long plaintive figure of his maiden sister, who had held house for him, under his own minute directions, ever since the death in premature child-birth of his young year-wed wife.

Miss Landale, the eldest of the family, had had a disappointment in her youth, as a result of which she now played the ungrateful _role_ of old maid of the family. She suffered from chronic toothache, as well as from repressed romantic aspirations, and was the _ame d.a.m.nee_ of Rupert. One of the most melancholy of human beings, she was tersely characterised by the village folk as a "_wummicky_ poor thing."

At the sight of Mr. Landale's weighted brow she propped up her own long sallow face, upon its aching side, with a trembling hand, and, full of agonised prescience, ventured to ask if anything had happened.

"Sit down," said her brother, with a sort of snarl--He possessed an extremely irritable temper under his cool sarcastic exterior, a temper which his peculiar anomalous circ.u.mstances, whilst they combined to excite it, forced him to conceal rigidly from most, and it was a relief to him to let it out occasionally upon Sophia's meek, ringleted head.

Sophia collapsed with hasty obedience into a chair, and then Mr.

Landale handed to her the thin fluttering sheets, voluminously crossed and re-crossed with fine Italian handwriting:

"From Tanty," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Miss Sophia, "Oh my dear Rupert!"

"Read it," said Rupert peremptorily. "Read it aloud."

And throwing himself back upon his chair, he shaded his mouth with one flexible thin hand, and prepared himself to listen.

"CAMDEN PLACE, BATH, October 29th," read the maiden lady in those plaintive tones, which seemed to send out all speech upon the breath of a sigh. "MY DEAR RUPERT,--You will doubtless be astonished, but your invariably affectionate Behaviour towards myself inclines me to believe that you will also be _pleased_ to hear, from these few lines, that very shortly after their receipt--if indeed not before--you may expect to see me arrive at Pulwick Priory."

Miss Landale put down the letter, and gazed at her brother through vacant mists of astonishment.

"Why, I thought Tanty said she would not put foot in Pulwick again till Adrian returned home."

Rupert measured the innocent elderly countenance with a dark look. He had sundry excellent reasons, other than mere family affection, for remaining on good terms with his rich Irish aunt, but he had likewise reasons, these less obvious, for wis.h.i.+ng to pay his devoirs to her anywhere but under the roof of which he was nominal master.

"She has found it convenient to change her mind," he said, with his twisting lip. "Constancy in your s.e.x, my dear, is merely a matter of convenience--or opportunity."

"Oh Rupert!" moaned Sophia, clasping the locket which contained her dead lover's hair with a gesture with which all who knew her were very familiar. Mr. Landale never could resist a thrust at the faithful foolish bosom always ready to bleed under his stabs, yet never resenting them. Inexplicable vagary of the feminine heart! Miss Sophia wors.h.i.+pped before the shrine of her younger brother, to the absolute exclusion of any sentiment for the elder, whose generosity and kindness to her were yet as great as was Rupert's tyranny.

"Go on," said the latter, alternately smiling at his nails and biting them, "Tanty O'Donoghue observes that I shall be surprised to hear that she will arrive very shortly after this letter, if not before it.

Poor old Tanty, there can be no mistake about her nationality. Have the kindness to read straight on, Sophia. I don't want to hear any more of your interesting comments. And don't stop till you have finished, no matter how amazed you are."

Again he composed himself to listen, while his sister plunged at the letter, and, after several false starts, found her place and proceeded:

"Since, owing to his most _unfortunate_ peculiarity of Temperament and consequent strange choice of abode, I cannot apply to my nephew Adrian, _a qui de droit_ (as Head of the House) I must needs address myself to you, my dear Rupert, to request hospitality for myself and the two young Ladies now under my Charge."

The letter wavered in Miss Sophia's hand and an exclamation hung upon her lip, but a sudden movement of Rupert's exquisite crossed legs recalled her to her task.

"These young ladies are _Mesdemoiselles de Savenaye_, and the daughters of Madame la Comtesse de Savenaye, who was my sister Mary's child. She and I, and Alice your mother, were sister co-heiresses as you know, and therefore these young ladies are _my_ grand-nieces and your _own_ cousins once removed. Of Cecile de Savenaye, her _strange_ adventures and ultimate _sad_ Fate in which your own brother was implicated, you cannot but have heard, but you may probably have forgotten even to the _very existence_ of these charming young women, who were nevertheless born at Pulwick, and whom you must at some time or other have beheld as infants during your _excellent_ and _lamented_ father's lifetime. They are, as you are doubtless also unaware--for I have remarked a _growing_ Tendency in the younger generations to neglect the study of Genealogy, even as it affects their own Families--as well born on the father's side as upon the maternal. M.

de Savenaye bore _argent a la fasce-canton d'hermine_, with an _augmentation of the fleurs de lis d'or_, _cleft in twain_ for his ancestor's _memorable_ deed at the siege of Dinan."

"There is Tante O'Donoghue fully displayed, _haut volante_ as she might say herself," here interrupted Mr. Landale with a laugh. "Always the same, evidently. The first thing I remember about her is her lecturing me on genealogy and heraldry, when I wanted to go fis.h.i.+ng, till, school-boy rampant as I was, I heartily wished her impaled and debruised on her own Donoghue herse proper. For G.o.d's sake, Sophia, do not expect me to explain! Go on."

"He was ent.i.tled to eighteen quarters, and related to such as Coucy and Armagnac and Tavannes," proceeded Miss Sophia, controlling her bewilderment as best she might, "also to Gwynne of Llanadoc in this kingdom--Honours to which Mesdemoiselles de Savenaye, being sole heiresses both of Kermelegan and Savenaye, not to speak of their own mother's share of O'Donoghue, which now-a-days is of greater substance--are personally ent.i.tled.

"If I am the _sole_ Relative they have left in these Realms, Adrian and you are the next. I have had the charge of my two young Kinswomen during the last six months, that is since they left the Couvent des Dames Anglaises in Jersey.

"Now, I think it is time that your Branch of the Family should incur the share of the _responsibility_ your relations.h.i.+p to them entails.

"If Adrian were _as_ and _where_ he should be, I feel sure he would embrace this opportunity of doing his duty as the Head of the House without the smallest hesitation, and I have no doubt that he would offer the _hospitality_ of Pulwick Priory and his _Protection_ to these amiable young persons for as long as they _remain unmarried_.

"From you, my dear Nephew, who have undertaken under these melancholy family circ.u.mstances to fill your Brother's place, I do not, however, _expect_ so much; all I ask is that you and my niece Sophia be kind enough to _shelter_ and _entertain_ your cousins for the s.p.a.ce of two months, while I remain at Bath for the benefit of my Health.

"At my age (for it is of no use, nephew, for us to deny our years when any Peerage guide must reveal them pretty closely to the curious), and I am this month pa.s.sing sixty-nine, at my _age_ the charge of two high-spirited young Females, in whom conventional education has failed to subdue Aspirations for worldly happiness whilst it has left them somewhat inexperienced in the Conventions of Society, I find a _little trying_. It does not harmonise with the retired, peaceful existence to which I am accustomed (and at my time of life, I think, ent.i.tled), in which it is my humble endeavour to wean myself from this earth which is so full of Emptiness and to prepare myself for that other and _better_ Home into which we must all resign ourselves to enter. And happy, indeed, my dear Rupert, such of us as will be found worthy; for come to it we all must, and the longer we live, the sooner we may expect to do so.

"The necessity of producing them in Society, is, however, rendered a matter of greater responsibility by the fact of the _handsome_ Fortunes which these young creatures possess already, not to speak of their expectations."

Rupert, who had been listening to his aunt's letter, through the intermediary of Miss Sophia's depressing sing-song, with an abstracted air, here lifted up his head, and commanded the reader to repeat this last pa.s.sage. She did so, and paused, awaiting his further pleasure, while he threw his handsome head back upon his chair, and closed his eyes as if lost in calculations.

At length he waved his hand, and Miss Sophia proceeded after the usual floundering:

"A neighbour of mine at Bunratty, Mrs. Hambledon of Brianstown, a _lively_ widow (herself one of the Macnamaras of the Reeks, and thus a distant connection of the Ballinasloe branch of O'Donoghues), and whom I had reason to believe I could trust--but I will not antic.i.p.ate--took a prodigious fancy to Miss Molly and proposed, towards the beginning of the Autumn, carrying her away to Dublin. At the same time the wet summer, producing in me an acute recurrence of that Affection from which, as you know, I suffer, and about which you _never fail_ to make such kind Enquiries at Christmas and Easter, compelled me to call in Mr. O'Mally, the apothecary, who has been my very _obliging_ medical adviser for so many years, and who strenuously advocated an immediate course of waters at Bath. In short, my dear Nephew, thus the matter was settled, your cousin Molly departed _radiant_ with _good_ spirits, and _good_ looks for a spell of gayety in Dublin, while your cousin Madeleine, prepared (with _equal_ content) to accompany her old aunt to Bath. It being arranged with Mrs. Hambledon that she should herself conduct Molly to us later on.

"We have been here about three weeks. Though persuaded by good Mr.

O'Mally that the waters would benefit my old bones, I was actuated, I must confess, by another motive in seeking this Fas.h.i.+onable Resort. In such a place as this, thronged as it is by all the Rank and Family of England, one can at least know _who is who_, and I was not without hopes that my nieces, with their faces, their name, and their fortunes, would have the opportunity of contracting suitable Alliances, and thus relieve me of a charge for which I am, I fear, little fitted.

"But, alas! my dear Rupert, I was most woefully mistaken. Bath is _distinctly not_ the place for two beautiful and unsophisticated Heiresses, and I am certainly neither possessed of the Spirits, nor of the Health to guard them from fortune-hunters and _needy nameless_ Adventurers. While it is my desire to impress upon you, and my niece Sophia, that the conduct of these young ladies has been _quite_ beyond reproach, I will not conceal from you that the attentions of a certain person, of the name of _Smith_, known here, and a favorite in the circles of frivolity and fas.h.i.+on as _Captain Jack_, have already made Madeleine _conspicuous_, and although the dear girl conducts herself with the utmost propriety, there is an air of _Romance_ and _mystery_ about the Young Man, not to speak of his unmistakable good looks, which have determined me to remove her from his vicinity before her Affections be _irreparably_ engaged. As for Molly, who is a thorough O'Donoghue and the image of her grandmother, that celebrated Murthering Moll (herself the toast of Bath in our young days), whose elopement with the Marquis de Kermelegan, after he had killed an English rival in a duel, was once a nine-days' wonder in this very town, and of whom you must have heard, Mrs. Hambledon restored her to my care only three days ago, and she has already twenty Beaux to her String, though favouring _n.o.body_, I am bound to say, but her own amus.e.m.e.nt. Yesterday she departed under Mrs. Hambledon's chaperonage, in the Company of a dozen of the highest in rank here, on an expedition to Clifton; the while my demure Madeleine spends the day at the house of her dear friend Lady Maria Harewood, whither, I only learnt upon her return at ten o'clock under his escort, _Captain Jack_--in my days that sort of _captain_ would have been strongly suspected, of having a shade too much of the _Heath_ or the _London Road_ about him--had likewise been convened. It was long after midnight when, with a great _tow-row_, a coach full of very merry company (amongst whom the widow Hambledon struck me as over-merry, perhaps) landed my other Miss _sur le perron_.

"This has decided me. We shall decamp _sans tambou ni trompette_.

To-morrow, without allowing discussion from the girls (in which I should probably be worsted), we pack ourselves into my travelling coach, and find our Way to you. But, until we are fairly on the Road, I shall not even let these ladies know _whither_ we are bound.

"With your kind permission, then, I shall remain a few days at Pulwick, to recruit from the _fatigues_ of such a long Journey, before leaving your fair cousins in your charge, and in that of the gentle Sophia (whom I trust to entertain them with something besides her usual melancholy), till the time comes for me to bring them back with me to Bunratty.