Chapter 26 The Lady of the Forest by L. T. Meade
LOVE VERSUS GOLD
“Katharine!”
“Yes.”
“I have received the most extraordinary letter.”
“What about, Grizel?”
“What about? Had you not better ask me first who from? Oh, no, you need not turn so pale. It is not from that paragon of your life, Rachel’s and Kitty’s mother.”
“Grizel, I do think you might speak more tenderly of one who has done you no harm and who has suffered much.”
“Well, well, let that pass. You want to know who my present correspondent is. She is no less a person than the mother of our heir.”
“Phil’s mother! Why should she write? She is in the house. Surely she can use her tongue.”
“She is not in the house and is therefore obliged to have recourse to correspondence. Listen to her words.”
Miss Griselda drew out of her pocket an envelope which contained a sheet of thick note-paper. The envelope was crested; so was the paper. The place from which it was written was Avonsyde; the date was early that morning. A few words in a rather feeble and uncertain hand filled the page.
“Dear Miss Lovel: I hope you and Miss Katharine will excuse me. I have made up my mind to see your lawyer, Mr. Baring, in town. I know you intended him to come here this afternoon, but if I catch the early train I shall reach his office in time to prevent him. I believe I can explain all about proofs and credentials better in town than here. I shall come back in time to-morrow. Don’t let Phil be agitated. Yours humbly and regretfully,
“Bella Lovel.”
“What does she mean by putting such an extra ordinary ending to her letter?” continued Miss Grizel as she folded up the sheet of paper and returned it to its envelope. “‘Yours humbly and regretfully!’ What does she mean, Katharine?”
“It sounds like a woman who had a weight on her conscience,” said Miss Katharine. “I wonder if Phil really is the heir! You know, Grizel, she never showed you the tankard. She made a great talk about it, but you never really saw it. Don’t you remember?”
“Nonsense!” snapped Miss Grizel. “Is it likely she would even know about the tankard if she had not got it? She was ill that day. Newbolt said she looked quite dreadful, and I did not worry her again, as I knew Mr. Baring was coming down to-day to go thoroughly into the whole question. She certainly has done an extraordinary thing in writing that letter and going up to London in that stolen sort of fashion; but as to Phil not being the heir, I think the fact of his true title to the property is pretty clearly established by this time. Katharine, I read you this letter in order to get a suggestion from you. I might have known beforehand that you had none to make. I might have known that you would only raise some of your silly doubts and make things generally uncomfortable. Well, I am displeased with Mrs. Lovel; but there, I never liked her. I shall certainly telegraph to Mr. Baring and ask him to come down here this evening, all the same.”
Miss Griselda and Miss Katharine had held their brief little colloquy in the old library. They now went into the hall, where family prayers were generally held, and soon afterward Miss Griselda sent off her telegram. She received an answer in the course of a couple of hours:
“Have not seen Mrs. Lovel. Will come down as arranged.”
But half an hour before the dog-cart was to be sent to the railway station to meet the lawyer another little yellow envelope was thrust into Miss Lovel’s hands. It was dated from the lawyer’s chambers and ran as follows:
“Most unexpectedly detained. Cannot come to-night. Expect me with Mrs. Lovel to-morrow.”
This telegram made Miss Griselda very angry.
“What possible information can detain Mr. Baring when I summon him here?” she said to her younger sister. She was doomed, however, to be made yet more indignant. A third telegram arrived at Avonsyde early in the evening; it also was from Mr. Baring:
“Disquieting news. Put off your guests. Expect me early to-morrow.”
Miss Griselda’s face grew quite pale. She threw the thin sheet of paper indignantly on the floor.
“Mr. Baring strangely forgets himself,” she said. “Put off our guests! Certainly not!”
“But, Griselda,” said Miss Katharine, “our good friend speaks of disquieting news. It may be – it may be something about the little girls’ mother. Oh, I always did fear that something had happened to her.”
“Katharine, you are perfectly silly about that woman. But whatever Mr. Baring’s news, our guests are invited and they shall come. Katharine, I look on to-morrow as the most important day of my life. On that day, when I show our chosen and rightful heir to the world – for our expected guests form the world to us, Katharine – on that day I fulfill the conditions of my dear father’s will. Do you suppose that any little trivial disturbance which may have taken place in London can alter plans so important as mine?”
“I don’t think Mr. Baring would have telegraphed if the disturbance was trivial,” murmured Miss Katharine. But she did not venture to add any more and soon went sadly out of the room.
Meanwhile Mrs. Lovel was having a terribly exciting day. Impelled by a motive stronger than the love of gold, she had slipped away from Phil’s bedside in the early morning, and, fear lending her wings, had gone downstairs, written her note to Miss Griselda, and then on foot had made her way to the nearest railway station at Lyndhurst Road. There she took the first train to London. She had a carriage to herself, and she was so restless that she paced up and down its narrow length. It seemed to her that the train would never reach its destination; the minutes were lengthened into hours; the hours seemed days. When, when would she get to Waterloo? When would she see Mr. Baring? Beside her in the railway carriage, beside her in the cab, beside her as she mounted the stairs to the lawyer’s office was pale-faced fear. Could she do anything to keep the boy? Could any – any act of hers cause the avenger to stay his hand – cause the angel of death to withdraw and leave his prey untouched? In the night, as she had watched by his bedside, she had seen only too plainly what was coming. Avonsyde might be given to Phil, but little Phil himself was going away. The angels wanted him elsewhere, and they would not mind any amount of mother’s weeping, of mother’s groans; they would take the boy from her arms. Then it occurred to her poor, weak soul for the first time that perhaps if she appealed to God he would listen, and if she repented, not only in word, but in deed, he would stay his avenging hand. Hence her hurried flight; hence her anguished longing. She had not a moment to lose, for the sands of her little boy’s life were running out.
She was early in town, and was shown into Mr. Baring’s presence very soon after his arrival at his office. Unlike most of the heirs-presumptive to the Avonsyde property, Phil had not been subjected to the scrutiny of this keen-eyed lawyer. From the very first Miss Griselda had been more or less under a spell as regards little Phil. His mother in writing to her from Australia had mentioned one or two facts which seemed to the good lady almost conclusive, and she had invited her and the boy direct to Avonsyde without, as in all other cases, interviewing them through her lawyer.
Mr. Baring therefore had not an idea who his tall, pale, agitated-looking visitor could be.
“Sit down,” he said politely. “Can I assist you in any way? Perhaps, if all the same to you, you would not object to going very briefly into matters to-day; to-morrow – no, not to-morrow – Thursday I can carefully attend to your case. I happen to be called into the country this afternoon and am therefore in a special hurry. If your case can wait, oblige me by mentioning the particulars briefly and making an appointment for Thursday.”
“My case cannot wait,” replied Mrs. Lovel in a hard, strained voice. “My case cannot wait an hour, and you need not go into the country. I have come to prevent your doing so.”
“But, madam – ”
“I am Mrs. Lovel.”
“Another Mrs. Lovel? Another heir forthcoming? God help those poor old ladies!”
“I am the mother of the boy who to-morrow is to be publicly announced as the future proprietor of Avonsyde.”
“You! Then you have come from Avonsyde?”
“I have. I have come to tell you a terrible and disastrous story.”
“My dear madam, pray don’t agitate yourself; pray take things quietly. Would you like to sit in this easy-chair?”
“No, thank you. What are easy-chairs to me? I want to tell my story.”
“So you shall – so you shall. I trust your boy is not ill?”
“He is very ill; he is – good God! I fear he is dying. I have come to you as the last faint chance of saving him.”
“My dear Mrs. Lovel, you make a mistake. I am a lawyer, not a physician. ’Pon my word, I’m truly sorry for you, and also for Miss Griselda. Her heart is quite set on that boy.”
“Listen! I have sinned. I was tempted; I sinned. He is not the heir.”
“My good lady, you can scarcely know what you are saying. You would hardly come to me with this story at the eleventh hour. Miss Lovel tells me you have proofs of undoubted succession. I was going to Avonsyde this afternoon to look into them, but only as a form – merely as a form.”
“You can look into them now; they are correct enough. There were two brothers who were lineally descended from that Rupert Lovel who quarreled with his father two hundred years ago. The brothers’ names were Rupert and Philip. Philip died and left a son; Rupert lives and has a son. Rupert is the elder of the brothers and his son is the true heir, because – because – ”
Here Mrs. Lovel rose to her feet.
“Because he has got what was denied to my only boy – glorious health and glorious strength. He therefore perfectly fulfills the conditions of the late Squire Lovel’s will.”
“But – but I don’t understand,” said the lawyer. “I have seen – yes, of course I have seen – but pray tell me everything. How did you manage to bring proofs of your boy’s title to the old ladies?”
“Why should I not know the history of my husband’s house? I saw the old ladies’ advertisement in a Melbourne paper. I knew to what it alluded and I stole a march on Rupert and his heir. It did not seem to me such a dreadful thing to do; for Rupert and his boy were rich and Phil and I were very poor. I stole away to England with my little boy, and took with me a bundle of letters and a silver tankard which belonged to my brother-in-law, but which were, I knew, equally valuable in proving little Philip’s descent. All would have gone well but for one thing – my little boy was not strong. He was brave – no boy ever was braver – and he kept in all tokens of terrible suffering for my sake. He won upon the old ladies; everybody loved him. All my plans seemed to succeed, and to-morrow he is to be appointed heir. To-morrow! What use is it? God has stretched out his hand and is taking the boy away. He is angry. He is doing it in anger and to punish me. I am sorry; I am terrified; my heart is broken. Perhaps if I show God that I repent he will withdraw his anger and spare my only boy. I have come to you. There is not a moment to lose. Here are the lost letters. Find the rightful heir.”
Mr. Baring was disturbed and agitated. He got up and locked the door; he paced up and down his room several times; then he came up to the woman who was now crouching by the table, her face hidden in her hands.
“Are you aware,” he said softly, for he feared the effect of his words – “are you aware that Rupert Lovel and his boy are now in London?”
Mrs. Lovel raised her head.
“I guessed it. Thank God! then I am in time.”
“Your news is indeed of the most vital importance. I must telegraph to Avonsyde. I cannot go there this afternoon. The whole case must be thoroughly investigated, and at once. I require your aid for this. “Will you return with me to Avonsyde to-morrow?”
“Yes, yes.”
“It will be a painful exposure for you. Do you realize it?”
“I realize nothing. I want to hold Phil to my heart; that is the only desire I now possess.”
“Poor soul! You have acted – I won’t say how; it is not for me to preach. I will telegraph to Miss Griselda and then go with you to find Rupert Lovel and his boy.”