Clare Avery Part 22

Lucrece was making the worst of a matter in which Don Juan was undoubtedly to blame, but Blanche was much more innocent than her sister chose to represent her. On the rosary Blanche looked as a long necklace, such as were in fas.h.i.+on at the time; and while the elaborate enamelled pendant certainly was a cross, it had never appeared to her otherwise than a mere pendant. The little image was so extremely small, that she kept it in her jewel-closet lest it should be lost. The book, Don Juan's private breviary, was in Latin, in which language studious Lucrece was a proficient, whilst idle Blanche could not have declined a single noun. The giver had informed her that he bestowed this breviary on her, his best beloved, because he held it dearest of all his treasures; and Blanche valued it on that account. Lucrece knew all this: for she had come upon Blanche in an unguarded moment, with the book in her hand and the rosary round her neck, and had to some extent forced her confidence--the more readily given, since Blanche never suspected treachery.

"I can ensure you, Father," pursued the traitress, with an a.s.sumption of the utmost meekness, "it hath cost me much sorrow ere I set me to speak unto you."

"Hast spoken to Blanche aforetime?"

"Not much, Father," replied Lucrece, in a voice of apparent trouble. "I counted it fitter to refer the same unto your better wisdom; nor, I think, was she like to list me."

"G.o.d have mercy!" moaned the distressed father, thoroughly awake now to the gravity of the case.

"Maybe, Father, you shall think I have left it pa.s.s too far," pursued Lucrece, with well-simulated grief: "yet can you guess that I would not by my goodwill seem to carry complaint of Blanche."

"Thou hast well done, dear heart, and I thank thee," answered her deceived father. "But leave me now, my la.s.s; I must think all this gear over. My poor darling!"

Lucrece glided away as softly as the serpent which she resembled in her heart.

In half-an-hour Sir Thomas came back into the house, and sent Jennet to tell his sister that he wished to speak with her in the library. It was characteristic, not of himself, but of his wife, that in his sorrows and perplexities he turned instinctively to Rachel, not to her. When Lucrece's intelligence was laid before Rachel, though perhaps she grieved less, she was even more shocked than her brother. That Blanche should think of quitting the happy and honourable estate of maidenhood, for the slavery of marriage, was in itself a misdemeanour of the first magnitude: but that she should have made her own choice, have received secret gifts, and held clandestine interviews--this was an awful instance of what human depravity could reach.

"Now, what is to be done?" asked Sir Thomas wearily. "First with Don John, and next with Blanche."

"Him?--the viper! Pack him out of the house, bag and baggage!" cried the wrathful spinster. "The crocodile, to conspire against the peace of the house which hath received him in his need! Yet what better might you look for in a man and a Papist?"

"Nay, Rachel; I cannot pack him out: he is my prisoner, think thou. I am set in charge of him until released by the Queen's Majesty's mandate.

All the greater need is there to keep him and Blanche apart. In good sooth, I wis not what to do for the best--with Blanche, most of all."

"Blanche hath had too much leisure time allowed her, and too much of her own way," said Rachel oracularly. "Hand her o'er to me--I will set her a-work. She shall not have an idle hour. 'Tis the only means to keep silly heads in order."

"Maybe, Rachel,--maybe," said Sir Thomas with a sigh. "Yet I fear sorely that we must have Blanche hence. It were constant temptation, were she and Don John left in the same house; and though she might not break charge--would not, I trust--yet he might. I can rest no faith on him well! I must first speak to Blanche, methinks, and then--"

"Speak to her!--whip her well! By my troth, but I would mark her!"

cried Rachel, in a pa.s.sion.

"Nay, Rachel, that wouldst thou not," answered her brother, smiling sadly. "Did the child but whimper, thy fingers would leave go the rod.

Thy bark is right fearful, good Sister; but some men's sweet words be no softer than thy bite."

"There is charity in all things, of course," said Rachel, cooling down.

"There is a deal in thee," returned Sir Thomas, "for them that know where to seek it. Well, come with me to Orige; she must be told, I reckon: and then we will send for Blanche."

Rachel opened her lips, but suddenly shut them without speaking, and kept them drawn close. Perhaps, had she not thought better of it, what might have been spoken was not altogether complimentary to Lady Enville.

That very comfortable dame sat in her cus.h.i.+oned chair in the boudoir-- there were no easy-chairs then, except as rendered so by cus.h.i.+ons; and plenty of soft thick cus.h.i.+ons were a very necessary part of the furniture of a good house. Her Ladys.h.i.+p was dressed in the pink of the fas.h.i.+on, so far as it had reached her tailor at Kirkham; and she was turning over the leaves of a new play, ent.i.tled "The Comedie of Errour"--one of the earliest productions of the young Warwicks.h.i.+re actor, William Shakspere by name. She put her book down with a yawn when her husband and his sister came in.

"How much colder 'tis grown this last hour or twain!" said she.

"Prithee, Sir Thomas, call for more wood."

Sir Thomas shouted as desired--the quickest way of settling matters--and when Jennet had come and gone with the fuel, he glanced into the little chamber to see if it were vacant. Finding no one there, he drew the bolt and sat down.

"Gramercy, Sir Thomas! be we all prisoners?" demanded his wife with a little laugh.

"Orige," replied Sir Thomas, "Rachel and I have a thing to show thee."

"I thought you looked both mighty sad," remarked the lady calmly.

"Dost know where is Blanche?"

"Good lack, no! I never wis where Blanche is."

"Orige, wouldst like to have Blanche wed?"

"Blanche!--to whom?"

"To Don John de Las Rojas."

"Gramercy! Sir Thomas, you never mean it?"

"He and Blanche mean it, whate'er I may."

"Good lack, how fortunate! Why, he will be a Marquis one day--and hath great store of goods and money. I never looked for such luck. Have you struck hands with him, Sir Thomas?"

Sir Thomas pressed his lips together, and glanced at his sister with an air of helpless vexation. Had it just occurred to him that the pretty doll whom he had chosen to be the partner of his life was a little wanting in the departments of head and heart?

"What, Orige--an enemy?" he said.

"Don John is not an enemy," returned Lady Enville, with a musical little laugh. "We have all made a friend of him."

"Ay--and have been fools, perchance, to do it. 'Tis ill toying with a snake. But yet once--a Papist?"

"Good lack! some Papists will get to Heaven, trow."

"May G.o.d grant it!" replied Sir Thomas seriously. "But surely, Orige, surely thou wouldst never have our own child a Papist?"

"I trust Blanche has too much good sense for such foolery, Sir Thomas,"

said the lady. "But if no--well, 'tis an old religion, at the least, and a splendrous. You would never let such a chance slip through your fingers, for the sake of Papistry?"

"No, Sister--for the sake of the Gospel," said Rachel grimly.

"Thou wist my meaning, Rachel," pursued Lady Enville. "Well, in very deed, Sir Thomas, I do think it were ill done to let such a chance go by us. 'Tis like throwing back the gifts of Providence. Do but see, how marvellously this young man was brought hither! And now, if he hath made suit for Blanche, I pray you, never say him nay! I would call it wicked to do the same. Really wicked, Sir Thomas!"

Lady Enville pinched the top cus.h.i.+on into a different position, with what was energy for her. There was silence for a minute. Rachel sat looking grimly into the fire, the personification of determined immobility. Sir Thomas was shading his eyes with his hand. He was drinking just then a very bitter cup: and it was none the sweeter for the recollection that he had mixed it himself. His favourite child--for Blanche was that--seemed to be going headlong to her ruin: and her mother not only refused to aid in saving her, but was incapable of seeing any need that she should be saved.

"Well, Orige," he said at last, "thou takest it other than I looked for.

I had meant for to bid thee speak with Blanche. Her own mother surely were the fittest to do the same. But since this is so, I see no help but that we have her here, before us three. It shall be harder for the child, and I would fain have spared her. But if it must be,--why, it must."

"She demeriteth [merits] no sparing," said Rachel sternly.

"Truly, Sir Thomas," responded his wife, "if I am to speak my mind, I shall bid Blanche G.o.d speed therein. So, if you desire to let [hinder]

the same--but I think it pity a thousand-fold you should--you were better to see her without me."