Part 28 (1/2)
”How far are we from Belthorpe Park now?”
”About three miles, sir.”
”You were saying that her ladys.h.i.+p looked very poorly for some time before she died. Tell me how she looked. What do you think was the matter?”
”Well, sir, her ladys.h.i.+p seemed very much depressed. I heard Miss Fairfield, her ladys.h.i.+p's maid, say that she used to find her ladys.h.i.+p constantly in tears; her nerves seemed to have given way.”
”I suppose I broke her heart,” thought Mike; ”but I'm not to blame; I couldn't go on loving any woman for ever, not if she were Venus herself.” And questioning the groom regarding the servants then at Belthorpe, he learnt with certain satisfaction that Fairfield had left immediately after her ladys.h.i.+p's death. The groom had never heard of Harrison (he had only been a year and a half in her ladys.h.i.+p's service).
”This is Belthorpe Park, sir--these are the lodge gates.”
Mike was disappointed in the lodge. The park he could not distinguish. Mist hung like a white fleece. There were patches of ferns; hawthorns loomed suddenly into sight; high trees raised their bare branches to the brilliancy of the moon.
”Not half bad,” thought Mike, ”quite a gentleman's place.”
”Rather rough land in parts--plenty of rabbits,” he remarked to the groom; and he won the man's sympathies by various questions concerning the best method of getting hunters into condition. The rooks talked gently in the branches of some elms, around which the drive turned through rough undulating ground. Plantations became numerous; tall, spire-like firs appeared, their shadows floating through the inters.p.a.ces; and, amid straight walks and dwarf yews, in the fulness of the moonlight, there shone a white house, with large French windows and a tower at the further end. A white peac.o.c.k asleep on a window-sill startled Mike, and he thought of the ghost of his dead mistress.
Nor could he account for his trepidation as he waited for the front door to open, and Hunt seemed to him aggressively large and pompous, and he would have preferred an a.s.sumption on the part of the servant that he knew the relative positions of the library and drawing-room.
But Hunt was resolved on explanation, and as they went up-stairs he pointed out the room where Lady Seeley died, and spoke of the late Earl. ”You want the sack and you shall get it, my friend,” thought Mike, and he glanced hurriedly at the beautiful pieces of furniture about the branching staircase and the gallery leading into the various corridors. At dinner he ate without noticing the choiceness of the cooking, and he drank several gla.s.ses of champagne before he remarked the excellence of the wine.
”We have not many dozen left, sir; I heard that his lords.h.i.+p laid it down in '75.”
Hunt watched him with cat-like patience and hound-like sagacity, and seeing he had forgotten his cigar-case, he instantly produced a box.
Mike helped himself without daring to ask where the cigars came from, nor did he comment on their fragrance. He smoked in discomfort; the presence of the servant irritated him, and he walked into the library and shut the door. The carved panelling, in the style of the late Italian renaissance, was dark and shadowy, and the eyes of the portraits looked upon the intruder. Men in armour, holding scrolls; men in rich doublets, their hands on their swords; women in elaborate dresses of a hundred tucks, and hooped out prodigiously. He was especially struck by one, a lady in green, who played with long white hands on a spinet. But the ma.s.sive and numerous oak bookcases, strictly wired with strong bra.s.s wire, and the tall oak fireplace, surmounted with a portrait of a man in a red coat holding a letter, whetted the edge of his depression, and Mike looked round with a pain of loneliness upon his face. Speaking aloud for relief, he said--
”No doubt it is all very fine, everything is up to the mark, but there's no denying that it is--well, it is dull. Had I known it was going to be like this I'd have brought somebody down with me--a nice woman. Kitty would be delightful here. But no; I would not bring her here for ten times the money the place is worth; to do so would be an insult on Helen's memory.... Poor dear Helen! I wish I had seen her before she died; and to think that she has left me all--a beautiful house, plate, horses, carriages, wine; nothing is wanting; everything I have is hers, even this cigar.” He threw the end of his cigar into the fireplace.
”How strange! what an extraordinary transformation! And all this is mine, even her ancestors! How angry that old fellow looks at me--me, the son of an Irish peasant! Yes, my father was that--well, not exactly that, he was a grazier. But why fear the facts? he was a peasant; and my mother was a French maid--well, a governess--well, a nursery governess, _une bonne_; she was dismissed from her situation for carrying on (it seems awful to speak of one's mother so; but it is the fact).... Respect! I love my mother well enough, but I'm not going to delude myself because I had a mother. Mother didn't like our cabin by the roadside; father treated her badly; she ran away, taking me with her. She was lucky enough to meet with a rich manufacturer, who kept her fairly well--I believe he used to allow her a thousand francs a month--and I used to call him uncle. When mother died he sent me back to my father in Ireland. That's my history. There's not much blue blood in me.... I believe if one went back.... Bah, if one went back! Why deceive myself? I was born a peasant, and I know it.... Yet no one looks more like a gentleman; reversion to some original ancestor, I suppose. Not one of these earls looks more like a gentleman than I. But I don't suppose my looks would in any measure reconcile them to the fact of my possession of their property.
”Ah, you old fools--periwigs, armour, and scrolls--you old fools, you laboured only to make a gentleman of an Irish peasant. Yes, you laboured in vain, my n.o.ble lords--you, old gentleman yonder, you with the telescope--an admiral, no doubt--you sailed the seas in vain; and you over there, you mediaeval-looking cuss, you carried your armour through the battles of Cressy and Poictiers in vain; and you, n.o.ble lady in the high bodice, you whose fingers play with the flaxen curls of that boy--he was the heir of this place two hundred years ago--I say, you bore him in vain, your labour was in vain; and you, old fogey that you are, you in the red coat, you holding the letter in your gouty fingers, a commercial-looking letter, you laboured in trade to rehabilitate the falling fortunes of the family, and I say you too laboured in vain. Without labour, without ache, I possess the result of all your centuries of labour.
”There, that sordid, wizen old lady, a miser to judge by her appearance, she is eyeing me maliciously now, but I say all her eyeing is in vain; she pinched and sc.r.a.ped and starved herself for me. Yes, I possess all your savings, and if you were fifty years younger you would not begrudge them to me.”
Laughing at his folly, Mike said, ”How close together lie the sane and the insane; any one who had overheard me would have p.r.o.nounced me mad as a March hare, and yet few are saner.” He walked twice across the room. ”But I'm mad for the moment, and I like to be mad. Have I not all things--talent, wealth, love? I asked for life, and I was given life. I have drunk the cup--no, not to the dregs, there is plenty more wine in the cup for me; the cup is full, I have not tasted it yet. Lily! yes, I must get her; a fool I have been; my letter miscarried, else she would have written. Refuse me! who would refuse me? Yes, I was born to drink the cup of life as few have drunk it; I shall drink it even like a Roman emperor ... But they drank it to madness and crime! Yet even so; I shall drink of life even to crime.
”The peasant and the card-sharper shall go high, this impetus shall carry me very high; and Frank Escott, that mean cad, shall go to the gutter; but he is already there, and I am here! I knew it would be so; I felt my destiny, I felt it here--in my brain. I felt it even when he scorned me in boyhood days. I believe that in those days he expected me to touch my cap to him. But those days are over, new days have begun. When to-morrow's sun rises it will s.h.i.+ne on what is mine--down-land, meadow-land, park-land, and wood-land. Strange is the joy of possession; I did not know of its existence. The stately house too is mine, and I would see it. But that infernal servant, I suppose, is in bed. I would not have him find me. I shall get rid of him. I can hear him saying in his pantry, 'He! I wouldn't give much for him; I found him last night spying about, examining his fine things, for all the world like a beggar to whom you had given an old suit of clothes.'”
Mike took his bed-room candle, and having regard for surprises on the part of the servants, he roamed about the pa.s.sages, looking at the Chippendale furniture on the landings and the pictures and engravings that lined the walls. Fearing bells, he did not attempt to enter any of the rooms, and it was with some difficulty that he found his way back to the library. Throwing himself into the arm-chair, he wondered if he should grow accustomed to spend his evenings in this loneliness. He thought of whom he should invite there--Harding, Thompson, John Norton; certainly he would ask John. He couldn't ask Frank without his wife, and Lizzie would prejudice him in the eyes of the county people. Then, as his thoughts detached themselves, he exclaimed against the sepulchral solemnity of the library. The house was soundless. At the window he heard the soft moonlight-dreaming of the rooks; and when he threw open the window the white peac.o.c.k roosting there flew away and paraded on the pale sward like a Watteau lady.
Next morning, rousing in the indolence of a bed hung with curtains of Indian pattern, Mike said to the footman who brought in his hot water--
”Tell the coachman that I shall go out riding after breakfast.”
”What horse will you ride, sir?”
”I don't know what horses you have in the stable.”
”Well, sir, you can ride either her ladys.h.i.+p's hunter or the mare that brought you from the station in the dog-cart.”