Part 59 (1/2)

”On the journey?”

”Yes, Frank;--at the inn at Carlisle.”

”Box and all?” Then she told him the whole story;--not the true story, but the story as it was believed by all the world. She found it to be impossible to tell him the true story. ”And the box was broken open, and left in the street?”

”Under an archway,” said Lizzie.

”And what do the police think?”

”I don't know what they think. Lord George says that they believe he is the thief.”

”He knew of them,” said Frank, as though he imagined that the suggestion was not altogether absurd.

”Oh, yes;--he knew of them.”

”And what is to be done?”

”I don't know. I've sent for you to tell me.” Then Frank averred that information should be immediately given to Mr. Camperdown. He would himself call on Mr. Camperdown, and would also see the head of the London police. He did not doubt but that all the circ.u.mstances were already known in London at the police office;--but it might be well that he should see the officer. He was acquainted with the gentleman, and might perhaps learn something. Lizzie at once acceded, and Frank went direct to Mr. Camperdown's offices. ”If I had lost ten thousand pounds in that way,” said Mrs. Carbuncle, ”I think I should have broken my heart.” Lizzie felt that her heart was bursting rather than being broken, because the ten thousand pounds' worth of diamonds was not really lost.

CHAPTER XLVI

Lucy Morris in Brook Street

Lucy Morris went to Lady Linlithgow early in October, and was still with Lady Linlithgow when Lizzie Eustace returned to London in January. During these three months she certainly had not been happy.

In the first place, she had not once seen her lover. This had aroused no anger or suspicion in her bosom against him, because the old countess had told her that she would have no lover come to the house, and that, above all, she would not allow a young man with whom she herself was connected to come in that guise to her companion. ”From all I hear,” said Lady Linlithgow, ”it's not at all likely to be a match;--and at any rate it can't go on here.” Lucy thought that she would be doing no more than standing up properly for her lover by a.s.serting her conviction that it would be a match;--and she did a.s.sert it bravely; but she made no pet.i.tion for his presence, and bore that trouble bravely. In the next place, Frank was not a satisfactory correspondent. He did write to her occasionally;--and he wrote also to the old countess immediately on his return to town from Bobsborough a letter which was intended as an answer to that which she had written to Mrs. Greystock. What was said in that letter Lucy never knew;--but she did know that Frank's few letters to herself were not full and hearty,--were not such thorough-going love-letters as lovers write to each other when they feel unlimited satisfaction in the work. She excused him,--telling herself that he was overworked, that with his double trade of legislator and lawyer he could hardly be expected to write letters,--that men, in respect of letter-writing, are not as women are, and the like; but still there grew at her heart a little weed of care, which from week to week spread its noxious, heavy-scented leaves, and robbed her of her joyousness. To be loved by her lover, and to feel that she was his,--to have a lover of her own to whom she could thoroughly devote herself,--to be conscious that she was one of those happy women in the world who find a mate worthy of wors.h.i.+p as well as love,--this to her was so great a joy that even the sadness of her present position could not utterly depress her. From day to day she a.s.sured herself that she did not doubt and would not doubt,--that there was no cause for doubt;--that she would herself be base were she to admit any shadow of suspicion. But yet his absence,--and the shortness of those little notes, which came perhaps once a fortnight, did tell upon her in opposition to her own convictions. Each note as it came was answered,--instantly; but she would not write except when the notes came. She would not seem to reproach him by writing oftener than he wrote. When he had given her so much, and she had nothing but her confidence to give in return, would she stint him in that? There can be no love, she said, without confidence, and it was the pride of her heart to love him.

The circ.u.mstances of her present life were desperately weary to her.

She could hardly understand why it was that Lady Linlithgow should desire her presence. She was required to do nothing. She had no duties to perform, and, as it seemed to her, was of no use to any one. The countess would not even allow her to be of ordinary service in the house. Lady Linlithgow, as she had said of herself, poked her own fires, carved her own meat, lit her own candles, opened and shut the doors for herself, wrote her own letters,--and did not even like to have books read to her. She simply chose to have some one sitting with her to whom she could speak and make little cross-grained, sarcastic, and ill-natured remarks. There was no company at the house in Brook Street, and when the countess herself went out, she went out alone. Even when she had a cab to go shopping, or to make calls, she rarely asked Lucy to go with her,--and was benevolent chiefly in this,--that if Lucy chose to walk round the square, or as far as the park, her ladys.h.i.+p's maid was allowed to accompany her for protection. Poor Lucy often told herself that such a life would be unbearable,--were it not for the supreme satisfaction she had in remembering her lover. And then the arrangement had been made only for six months. She did not feel quite a.s.sured of her fate at the end of those six months, but she believed that there would come to her a residence in a sort of outer garden to that sweet Elysium in which she was to pa.s.s her life. The Elysium would be Frank's house; and the outer garden was the deanery at Bobsborough.

Twice during the three months Lady Fawn, with two of the girls, came to call upon her. On the first occasion she was unluckily out, taking advantage of the protection of her ladys.h.i.+p's maid in getting a little air. Lady Linlithgow had also been away, and Lady Fawn had seen no one. Afterwards, both Lucy and her ladys.h.i.+p were found at home, and Lady Fawn was full of graciousness and affection. ”I daresay you've got something to say to each other,” said Lady Linlithgow, ”and I'll go away.”

”Pray don't let us disturb you,” said Lady Fawn.

”You'd only abuse me if I didn't,” said Lady Linlithgow.

As soon as she was gone Lucy rushed into her friend's arms.

”It is so nice to see you again.”

”Yes, my dear, isn't it? I did come before, you know.”

”You have been so good to me! To see you again is like the violets and primroses.” She was crouching close to Lady Fawn, with her hand in that of her friend Lydia. ”I haven't a word to say against Lady Linlithgow, but it is like winter here, after dear Richmond.”

”Well;--we think we're prettier at Richmond,” said Lady Fawn.

”There were such hundreds of things to do there,” said Lucy. ”After all, what a comfort it is to have things to do.”

”Why did you come away?” said Lydia.

”Oh, I was obliged. You mustn't scold me now that you have come to see me.”

There were a hundred things to be said about Fawn Court and the children, and a hundred more things about Lady Linlithgow and Bruton Street. Then, at last, Lady Fawn asked the one important question.