Marmaduke Part 11

"Write for rooms at Cross-keys. Order trap from Crow; 9.30, copse by avenue gate."

She drew in her breath and considered, her thoughts punctuated by the rapid beating of her heart.

The Cross-keys? That was the inn where the south coach stopped, and where the ferry road branched off; she could almost see it from her window across the estuary on the edge of the moorland. What did Marmaduke want with rooms there? And the trap from the Crow? That was the little inn down in the back purlieus of the town. For whom was that trap wanted? And why not order from the big posting hotel as usual?

Then in an instant a solution flashed upon her. Marmaduke had not really gone by the afternoon coach; or, if he had, so far, was to return that night to the Cross-keys, and the trap was to take Fantine Le Grand to him by the bridge road!

The beating of her heart steadied itself. She folded up the paper and put it in her pocket, her vehement determination, somehow or another, to frustrate this plan almost forgotten for the time in wonder at the chance which had brought to her this knowledge.

The paper must have fallen out of the pocket of some coat Andrew had been packing up--how easily it might not so have fallen! How easily she might not have noticed it! A facile wonder obscured real thought, and, as usual in such sudden crises, concrete determination hid itself under one general determination to frustrate the machinations of the enemy, if possible. She did not even ask herself how this was to be done; all she told herself was that it _must_ be done.

So, rousing to a sense that afternoon was pa.s.sing to evening, and that it was time for her to be in attendance at the castle, she went thither, feeling vaguely that if it was necessary to kill the woman, even that must be done, sooner than she should be allowed to hamper Marmaduke's young life.

Fantine Le Grand had not yet come up from her daily duty of amusing Lord Drummuir, so Marrion mechanically began, as usual, to prepare for the evening's toilette, She found all the valuables gone from the jewel-case, and, after a hasty search, discovered them in a tiny valise, ready packed hidden away behind laces and ribbons in a drawer.

So she had been right. Fantine Le Grand meant to give them the slip.

Ere she had time to consider a fretful voice came from the boudoir.

"Marrion, Marrion! I do hope the girl's there. Just like 'em if she isn't. Ah," as Marrion appeared at the door, "for heaven's sake, girl, take off my shoes and bring me my dressing-gown! That wretched old man has worn me out. I shall be fit for nothing! Oh, lord, it was too bad--nothing would please him! What o'clock is it? Six o'clock! Good gracious, I shall hardly have time before dinner! I won't go down; there's no one to go down for now Marmaduke's gone. Lord, what a relief it will be! Tell them to bring dinner up here at eight and give me my sleeping drops. Not too much, as I don't want to sleep too long; but I have such a headache, I shan't be fit for anything without a rest."

Fantine Le Grand did not see her attendant's face. Had she done so, she would have been startled. The colour had left it, every feature was set and hard. For she had found the clue. Even if an overdose killed the woman, she must be made to sleep sound.

"Yes, madam," she replied, "but a rest will take your headache away, I hope."

She poured out the narcotic without a tremble, doubling the double dose. It was a risk, of course; but risks must be run.

"That is very strong--how much did you give me?" asked Fantine, as, with a sigh of content, she snuggled down under the _duvet_.

"Only as much as was necessary," replied Marrion steadily.

Her heart was hard as the nether millstone. She waited in the boudoir till the soft regular breathing told her Fantine was asleep, then, giving orders in pa.s.sing that her mistress did not wish to be disturbed, she made her way back to her own room at the keep-house in order to mature further plans. In this she was hampered by ignorance as to what she had to frustrate. It would have been easy to walk down to the Crow and countermand the trap, but for aught she knew to the contrary, Marmaduke might be awaiting Mdlle. Le Grand there; so she judged it better to adhere as far as possible to what she did know, and this pointed to someone taking the trap, as ordered--whether to the Cross-keys or not, mattered little--and meeting Marmaduke. The very idea stirred her blood! Of course she must do it. She must go and beg him--nay, force him to reconsider an action which would for ever ruin him with his father.

The colour came back to her face, the light to her eyes, with this decision, and her mind was busy at once with precautions.

The Cross-keys, she knew, was held by new people who would not be likely to know her; still she must do her best to avoid recognition.

To begin with she must secure retreat. She looked down the estuary, then at low tide, and little more than a still pool with a faint stream in it, and saw no boat at the further side. That, however, could easily be remedied. The castle boat lay this side, and it would not take her half an hour to row it over and swim back.

By this time it was full seven o'clock, the shadows were lengthening and everyone at the castle would be busy with dinner. Now was her opportunity. Ten minutes afterwards in her bathing suit, but wrapped in her plaid, and with a lighted lantern at the bottom of the boat, for she remembered it would be dark on the return journey, she was pulling with long vigorous strokes to the little pier of seaweed-grown slippery rocks. To fasten the boat to the outermost ring on the sh.o.r.e, so that she could get at it at all tides, and hang the lantern over the bows as a guide to the whereabouts, did not take her long. That done, she folded the plaid away, placed it in the stern sheets, and slipped over the side like a seal.

So much, then, was done. She must now go and carry up Fantine Le Grand's supper and then prepare herself to take the latter's place.

She was relieved to find all well. Fantine lay comfortably snuggled up, very dead asleep it is true, but breathing quietly and regularly, and Marrion, with a lighter heart, for all it was still hard as the nether millstone, closed the door on her, secure that no interruption was likely to come from that side.

And now to disguise herself so as to pa.s.s muster with the driver of the coach, should he happen to be an acquaintance. This was easy enough. High heels, silk stockings, a little lace, a furbelow or two, and a big black silk cloak go far in semi-darkness, and all these were to be found in her mother's wardrobe.

Having time to spare, indeed, Marrion spent it, half-eagerly, half-reluctantly, in seeing how near she could bring herself to the daintinesses of modern fas.h.i.+on. And she so far succeeded that, as she went away from the looking-gla.s.s, her face showed radiant, as of a girl going to her first ball. Unconfessed, the thought was there that Marmaduke would see her so, possibly in the discarded brocades worn by his own mother in her youth; anyhow, in the garments of his own cla.s.s.

So, with the ample cloak round her, its hood drawn over the s.h.i.+ning hair piled in the latest fas.h.i.+on, she made her way to the copse by the avenue gate. The chariot with two horses was in waiting; the driver, touching his hat, asked if there was no luggage. She answered no, stepped in, and they were off. Evidently the man had his orders, for they skirted the town and crossed the river by the lower and older bridge. This lengthened the journey by some two miles; so much the better. It would be quite dark by the time they arrived at the Cross-keys. Hitherto Marrion's mind had been fully occupied with action.

Now, in this hour's drive, she had time to think of what would happen when she met Marmaduke, and her heart sank a little. Not that she was afraid of him or of herself, but it was all so strange, so unlike real life. Then in a flash came the memory of that dawn-tide swim of theirs! That was not common, trivial, everyday life either. They two had somehow the trick of escaping from that sometimes. Why not now?

The day had been brilliantly fine and warm, but with the sun setting, clouds had gathered and lay dark and threatening on the horizon, though the moon rode un.o.bscured high in the heavens. A few spots of heavy rain fell in great splashes, and the bustling landlady of the Cross-keys, as she came to the door, was full of congratulations that madam had escaped the thunderstorm which was evidently brewing.

Meantime, Captain Muir, who had not expected his lady quite so soon, was away in the kennels to see if some medicine which he--kindly gentleman--had prescribed for a puppy ill of distemper had bettered the poor beastie; but he would be back syne and the rooms were ready.

This was a relief to Marrion as it ensured that their meeting would be private; so she followed the landlady upstairs, the latter asking if Mrs. Muir would rather a cup of tea, or to go to bed at once, since she would have to be up so early to catch the first coach south.

Marrion, as she refused both suggestions, felt startled at the Mrs.

Muir. Was it possible that there was to be more than a mere intrigue?

In Scotland one did not pose so easily as married--unless indeed Marmaduke was reckless--he was so, often----

She glanced round the bedroom into which she was shown, recognising that some of the luggage in it must be a woman's, then pa.s.sed into the sitting-room adjoining. The fire had lately been lit, doubtless with a view to a sudden chilliness foretelling the coming storm, and the flames of its crackling wood danced on the walls, making the two lighted candles on the table unnecessary. Half mechanically she blew them out, and with a sombre, almost stern face, stood watching the blazing sticks.

Suddenly a cheerful well-known voice rose below.

"The puppy's much better, Mrs. McTavish. What, my wife has come?

That's all right."

My wife! For an instant Marrion's head whirled. Was she too late? No.

Confused memories of what in Scotland const.i.tuted an irregular marriage sent a flood of crimson to her face as she realised that Duke had all unwittingly acknowledged her as his "wife" before witnesses.

His footsteps coming up the stairs two steps at a time steadied her; but what followed shook her to her very foundations. Unheeding of her feeble "Duke" as he opened the door, he was across the room holding her in his arms and pa.s.sionately kissing her averted face, her neck, her hair.

"This is good," he whispered. "Now for a splendid honeymoon!"

For a second she yielded; then she wrenched herself from him and faced him fairly.

"You're making a mistake, Captain Muir," she said sharply, "I am only Marrion Paul."

She would have liked to add "your friend"; but she dared not. At the moment she knew she was far more than that.

"Marmie!" he echoed stupidly. "Marmie!"

At first he was too surprised for more; then he drew himself up and stared at her angrily.

"What the deuce are you doing here?" he said at last, adding hastily, as possibilities struck him, "Did she send you? Is she ill?"

In her long drive the girl had gone over and over the coming interview, settling what she would say, but the sudden solicitude of his tone swept all her preparations away. Did he then really care? If so, nothing but the naked truth would be any use.

"No," she replied calmly, only her tightly interlaced fingers showing the tension of her mind and body. "She is quite well. I gave her a double dose of her sleeping drops to prevent her coming. I came instead because I wanted to speak to you."

The flickering firelight showed sheer anger on the young man's face--sheer brutal anger.

"Because you wanted to take her place, eh?"

She gave a little sort of sob. What would she not have given to take it? The very intensity of her desire made her pa.s.s the insult by.

"It is no use being angry," she said quietly. "I came to try and make you hear reason. You may as well listen. She can't come to-night, and surely, meanwhile, we can sit down and talk it over--as friends!"

"We used to be friends, I admit," he replied coldly; "but if you are going to presume on friends.h.i.+p as you appear to have done, the sooner the farce ends the better."

For all that he sat down, his bold eyes taking in every detail of her altered appearance.