Part 32 (1/2)

I did not say any more; I grasped Mrs. Fanning's hand.

”How is your dear mother?” she said.

”Mother is not at all well.”

”Ah, poor dear, poor dear,” said Mrs. Fanning; ”then no wonder your cheeks are pale. I said to Albert the very last night I left, 'Albert, if you win her, she's worth her weight in gold, it is a gold heart she has; you watch her with her mother, Albert, and think what she'll be to you.'”

”Mrs. Fanning, you really must not talk in that way,” I said. ”Please let me go.”

She did let me go. My contact with her had slightly braced me. I felt angry once more with the terrible Albert; but Mrs. Fanning was kindness itself. Oh, if only Albert had been a different man, and I had really cared for him, and I--but why think of the impossible.

I got into an omnibus, and gave the man directions to put me down at the nearest point to the d.u.c.h.ess's house. I found myself echoing Jane Mullins's words, ”Why had Jim Randolph gone away?”

I arrived at the d.u.c.h.ess's in good time. I had made up my mind to tell her all. She must lend us a thousand pounds. Mother must be saved; mother must be kept in the dark as to the utter ruin of my mad plan. I whispered the story as I would tell it to my old friend over and over to myself, and when I mounted the steps of the house and rang the bell I was trembling, and felt very faint and tired. The footman opened the door, and I inquired for her Grace.

”Can I see her?” I said. ”I am Miss Wickham; I want to see her on very special business.”

”I will mention that you have called, madam,” replied the man; ”but her Grace is not visible, she is very ill. She has been in bed for several days, and the doctor is with her. It is influenza.”

Then, indeed, I felt my last hopes tottering.

”I am sorry her Grace is ill,” I said. I paused for a moment to consider. ”Can I see Miss Mitford?” I inquired then. Miss Mitford was a lady who did some correspondence for the d.u.c.h.ess, and who was generally to be found in the house.

Miss Mitford came downstairs immediately, and I saw her in a small room to the left of the great hall.

”It is the shock about Mr. Randolph,” she said at once.

”Then is it really supposed that he was drowned in the _Star of Hope_?” I cried.

”He mentioned that he was coming to England by that boat,” replied Miss Mitford. ”The d.u.c.h.ess is certain that he is amongst the pa.s.sengers, although his name has not been mentioned as yet in any list. Her Grace is terribly upset, more particularly as Mr. Severn, Sir Henry Severn's only son, died a fortnight ago. There is great confusion, and Mr. Randolph ought to be back.”

I did not ask any questions with regard to this latter news, nor did it interest me in the very least. Of course Mr. Randolph ought to be back, but for very very different reasons. I went sorrowfully, oh so sorrowfully, away.

When I returned home Jane was waiting for me in the hall. She was hovering about, looking very untidy and very anxious.

”Well,” she said; ”come in here, I must speak to you.”

”But it is luncheon time,” I said, ”and people will wonder.”

”Let them wonder. Did you see her? Did she promise to lend it? That man has been here again. He is desperate, and says that if he is not paid in two days he will put in the bailiff.”

”And what will that mean?” I asked.

”Ruin--utter and complete. But tell me, did you see the d.u.c.h.ess?”

”I did not,” I answered; ”she is ill in bed; and oh, Jane, it is the shock about Mr. Randolph which has caused her illness. The d.u.c.h.ess is quite sure that he did sail in the _Star of Hope_. O Jane! what is to be done?”

”G.o.d only knows,” answered Jane Mullins; ”we are up a tree, and that's the truth.”