Part 65 (1/2)
”Not to London,” replied Maria. ”He has gone with Captain St. Aubyn.
What made you think of London?”
”Isaac said Mrs. Pain thought he had gone to London,” replied Thomas.
”It was some mistake, I suppose. But I wonder he should go out to-day for anything less urgent than necessity. The Bank wants him.”
Maria was soon to be convinced that she need not have spoken so surely about George's having gone with Captain St. Aubyn. When she and Meta, with Margery--who would have thought herself grievously wronged had she not been one of the party to Ashlydyat--were starting, Thomas came out of the Bank parlour and accompanied them to the door. While standing there, the porter of the Bell Inn happened to pa.s.s, and Maria stopped him to inquire whether Captain St. Aubyn was better when he left.
”He was not at all well, ma'am,” was the man's answer: ”hardly fit to travel. He had been in a sort of fever all the night.”
”And my master, I suppose, must take and sit up with him!” put in Margery, without ceremony, in a resentful tone.
”No, he didn't,” said the man, looking at Margery, as if he did not understand her. ”It was my turn to be up last night, and I was in and out of his room four or five times: but n.o.body stayed with him.”
”But Mr. George G.o.dolphin went with Captain St. Aubyn this morning?”
said Thomas G.o.dolphin to the man.
”Went where, sir?”
”Started with him. On his journey.”
”No, sir; not that I know of. I did not see him at the station.”
Maria thought the man must be stupid. ”Mr. George G.o.dolphin returned to the Bell between eleven and twelve last night,” she explained. ”And he intended to accompany Captain St. Aubyn this morning on his journey.”
”Mr. George was at the Bell for a few minutes just after eleven, ma'am.
It was me that let him out. He did not come back again. And I don't think he was at the train this morning. I am sure he was not with Captain St. Aubyn, for I never left the captain till the train started.”
Nothing further was said to the porter. He touched his hat, and went his way. Maria's face wore an air of bewilderment. Thomas smiled at her.
”I think it is you who must be mistaken, Maria,” said he. ”Depend upon it, Mrs. Pain is right: he has gone to London.”
”But why should he go to London without telling me?” debated Maria. ”Why say he was going with Captain St. Aubyn?”
Thomas could offer no opinion upon the subject. Miss Meta began to stamp her pretty shoes, and to drag her mamma by the hand. She was impatient to depart.
They chose the way by the lonely Ash-tree Walk. It was pleasant on a sunny day: suns.h.i.+ne scares away ghosts: and it was also the nearest. As they were turning into it, they met Charlotte Pain. Maria, simple-hearted and straightforward, never casting a suspicion to--to anything undesirable--spoke at once of the uncertainty she was in, as to her husband.
”Why do you think he has gone to London?” she asked.
”I know he has,” replied Charlotte. ”He told me he was going there.”
”But he told me he was only going with Captain St. Aubyn,” returned Maria, a doubtful sound in her voice.
”Oh, my dear, gentlemen do not find it always convenient to keep their wives _au courant_ of their little affairs.”
Had it been salvation to her, Charlotte could not have helped launching that shaft at Maria G.o.dolphin. No; not even regard for George's secrets stopped her. She had done the mischief by speaking to Isaac, and this opportunity was too glorious to be missed, so she braved it out. Had Charlotte dared--for her own sake--she could have sent forth an unlimited number of poisoned arrows daily at George G.o.dolphin's wife: and she would have relished the sport amazingly. She sailed off: a curiously conspicuous smile of triumph in her eyes as they were bent on Maria, her parting movement being a graciously condescending nod to the child.
Maria was recalled to her senses by Margery. The woman was gazing after Charlotte with a dark, strange look: a look that Maria understood as little as she understood Charlotte's triumphant one. Margery caught the eye of her mistress upon her, and smoothed her face with a short cough.
”I'm just taking the pattern of her jacket, ma'am. It matches so bravely with the hat. I wonder what the world will come to next? The men will take to women's clothes, I suppose, now the women have taken to men's.”