Part 86 (1/2)
”I say, Pen,” continued the other, sadly, ”if you write--if you write to Laura, I wish you would say 'G.o.d bless her' from me.”
Pen blushed; and then looked at Warrington; and then--and then burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughing.
”I'm going to dine with her,” he said. ”I brought her and Lady Rockminster up from the country to-day--made two days of it--slept last night at Bath--I say, George, come and dine, too. I may ask any one I please, and the old lady is constantly talking about you.”
George refused. George had an article to write. George hesitated; and oh, strange to say! at last he agreed to go. It was agreed that they should go and call upon the ladies; and they marched away in high spirits to the hotel in Jermyn Street. Once more the dear face shone upon him; once more the sweet voice spoke to him, and the tender hand pressed a welcome.
There still wanted half an hour to dinner. ”You will go and see your uncle now, Mr. Pendennis,” old Lady Rockminster said. ”You will not bring him to dinner-no--his old stories are intolerable; and I want to talk to Mr. Warrington; I daresay he will amuse us. I think we have heard all your stories. We have been together for two whole days, and I think we are getting tired of each other.”
So, obeying her ladys.h.i.+p's orders, Arthur went downstairs and walked to his uncle's lodgings.
CHAPTER LXXI. Fiat Just.i.tia
The dinner was served when Arthur returned, and Lady Rockminster began to scold him for arriving late. But Laura, looking at her cousin, saw that his face was so pale and scared, that she interrupted her imperious patroness; and asked, with tender alarm, what had happened? Was Arthur ill?
Arthur drank a large b.u.mper of sherry. ”I have heard the most extraordinary news; I will tell you afterwards,” he said, looking at the servants. He was very nervous and agitated during the dinner. ”Don't tramp and beat so with your feet under the table,” Lady Rockminster said. ”You have trodden on Fido, and upset his saucer. You see Mr.
Warrington keeps his boots quiet.”
At the dessert--it seemed as if the unlucky dinner would never be over--Lady Rockminster said, ”This dinner has been exceedingly stupid.
I suppose something has happened, and that you want to speak to Laura.
I will go and have my nap. I am not sure that I shall have any tea--no.
Good night, Mr. Warrington. You must come again, and when there is no business to talk about.” And the old lady, tossing up her head, walked away from the room with great dignity.
George and the others had risen with her, and Warrington was about to go away, and was saying ”Good night” to Laura, who, of course, was looking much alarmed about her cousin, when Arthur said, ”Pray, stay, George.
You should hear my news too, and give me your counsel in this case. I hardly know how to act in it.”
”It's something about Blanche, Arthur,” said Laura, her heart beating, and her cheek blus.h.i.+ng as she thought it had never blushed in her life.
”Yes--and the most extraordinary story,” said Pen. ”When I left you to go to my uncle's lodgings, I found his servant, Morgan, who has been with him so long, at the door, and he said that he and his master had parted that morning; that my uncle had quitted the house, and had gone to an hotel--this hotel. I asked for him when I came in; but he was gone out to dinner. Morgan then said that he had something of a most important nature to communicate to me, and begged me to step into the house; his house it is now. It appears the scoundrel has saved a great deal of money whilst in my uncle's service, and is now a capitalist and a millionaire, for what I know. Well, I went into the house, and what do you think he told me? This must be a secret between us all--at least if we can keep it, now that it is in possession of that villain. Blanche's father is not dead. He has come to life again. The marriage between Clavering and the Begum is no marriage.”
”And Blanche, I suppose, is her grandfather's heir,” said Warrington.
”Perhaps: but the child of what a father! Amory is an escaped convict--Clavering knows it; my uncle knows it--and it was with this piece of information held over Clavering in terrorem that the wretched old man got him to give up his borough to me.”
”Blanche doesn't know it,” said Laura, ”nor poor Lady Clavering?”
”No,” said Pen; ”Blanche does not even know the history of her father.
She knew that he and her mother had separated, and had heard as a child, from Bonner, her nurse, that Mr. Amory was drowned in New South Wales.
He was there as a convict, not as a s.h.i.+p's-captain, as the poor girl thought. Lady Clavering has told me that they were not happy, and that her husband was a bad character. She would tell me all, she said, some day: and I remember her saying to me, with tears in her eyes, that it was hard for a woman to be forced to own that she was glad to hear her husband was dead: and that twice in her life she should have chosen so badly. What is to be done now? The man can't show and claim his wife: death is probably over him if he discovers himself: return to transportation certainly. But the rascal has held the threat of discovery over Clavering for some time past, and has extorted money from him time after time.”
”It is our friend Colonel Altamont, of course,” said Warrington ”I see all now.”
”If the rascal comes back,” continued Arthur, ”Morgan, who knows his secret, will use it over him--and having it in his possession, proposes to extort money from us all. The d----d rascal supposed I was cognisant of it,” said Pen, white with anger; ”asked me if I would give him an annuity to keep it quiet; threatened me, me, as if I was trafficking with this wretched old Begum's misfortune, and would extort a seat in Parliament out of that miserable Clavering. Good heavens! was my uncle mad, to tamper in such a conspiracy? Fancy our mother's son, Laura, trading on such a treason!”
”I can't fancy it, dear Arthur,” said Laura, seizing Arthur's hand, and kissing it.
”No!” broke out Warrington's deep voice, with a tremor; he surveyed the two generous and loving young people with a pang of indescribable love and pain. ”No. Our boy can't meddle with such a wretched intrigue as that. Arthur Pendennis can't marry a convict's daughter; and sit in Parliament as member for the hulks. You must wash your hands of the whole affair, Pen. You must break off. You must give no explanations of why and wherefore, but state that family reasons render a match impossible. It is better that those poor women should fancy you false to your word than that they should know the truth. Besides, you can get from that dog Clavering--I can fetch that for you easily enough an acknowledgment that the reasons which you have given to him as the head of the family are amply sufficient for breaking off the union. Don't you think with me, Laura?” He scarcely dared to look her in the face as he spoke. Any lingering hope that he might have--any feeble hold that he might feel upon the last spar of his wrecked fortune, he knew he was casting away; and he let the wave of his calamity close over him. Pen had started up whilst he was speaking, looking eagerly at him. He turned his head away. He saw Laura rise up also and go to Pen, and once more take his hand and kiss it. ”She thinks so too--G.o.d bless her!” said George.