Complete Works of Bram Stoker (271 page)

‘Now, Leonard, tell me all about the debts?’  She spoke in tones of gay friendliness, but behind the mask of her cheerfulness was the real face of fear.  Down deep in her mind was a conviction that her letter was a pivotal point of future sorrow.  It was in the meantime quite apparent to her that Leonard kept it as his last resource; so her instinct was to keep it to the front and thus minimise its power.

Leonard, though inwardly weakened by qualms of growing doubt, had the animal instinct that, as he was in opposition, his safety was in attacking where his opponent most feared.  He felt that there was some subtle change in his companion; this was never the same Stephen Norman whom only yesterday he had met upon the hill!  He plunged at once into his purpose.

‘But it wasn’t about my debts you asked me to meet you, Stephen.’

‘You surprise me, Leonard!  I thought I simply asked you to come to meet me.  I know the first subject I mentioned when we began to talk, after your grumbling about coming in the heat, was your money matters.’  Leonard winced, but went on:

‘It was very good of you, Stephen; but really that is not what I came to speak of to-day.  At first, at all events!’ he added with a sublime naïvetté, as the subject of his debts and his imperative want of money rose before him.  Stephen’s eyes flashed; she saw more clearly than ever through his purpose.  Such as admission at the very outset of the proffer of marriage, which she felt was coming, was little short of monstrous.  Her companion did not see the look of mastery on her face; he was looking down at the moment.  A true lover would have been looking up.

‘I wanted to tell you, Stephen, that I have been thinking over what you said to me in your letter, and what you said in words; and I want to accept!’  As he was speaking he was looking her straight in the face.

Stephen answered slowly with a puzzled smile which wrinkled up her forehead:

‘Accept what I said in my letter! why, Leonard, what do you mean?  That letter must have had a lot more in it than I thought.  I seem to remember that it was simply a line asking you to meet me.  Just let me look at it; I should like to be sure of what actually is!’  As she spoke she held out her hand.  Leonard was nonplussed; he did not know what to say.  Stephen made up her mind to have the letter back.  Leonard was chafing under the position forced upon him, and tried to divert his companion from her purpose.  He knew well why she had chosen that exposed position for their interview.  Now, as her outstretched hand embarrassed him, he made reprisal; he tried to take it in his in a tender manner.

She instantly drew back her hand and put it behind her in a decided manner.  She was determined that whatever might happen she would not let any watcher at the windows, by chance or otherwise, see any sign of tenderness on her part.  Leonard, thinking that his purpose had been effected, went on, breathing more freely:

‘Your letter wasn’t much.  Except of course that it gave me the opportunity of listening to what you said; to all your sweet words.  To your more than sweet proposal!’

‘Yes!  It must have been sweet to have any one, who was in a position to do so, offer to help you when you knew that you were overwhelmed with debts!’  The words were brutal.  Stephen felt so; but she had no alternative.  Leonard had some of the hard side of human nature; but he had also some of the weak side.  He went on blindly:

‘I have been thinking ever since of what you said, and I want to tell you that I would like to do as you wish!’  As he spoke, his words seemed even to him to be out of place.  He felt it would be necessary to throw more fervour into the proceedings.  The sudden outburst which followed actually amused Stephen, even in her state of fear:

‘Oh, Stephen, don’t you know that I love you!  You are so beautiful!  I love you!  I love you!  Won’t you be my wife?’

This was getting too much to close quarters.  Stephen said in a calm, business-like way:

‘My dear Leonard, one thing at a time!  I came out here, you know, to speak of your debts; and until that is done, I really won’t go into any other matter.  Of course if you’d rather not . . . ‘  Leonard really could not afford this; matters were too pressing with him.  So he tried to affect a cheery manner; but in his heart was a black resolve that she should yet pay for this.

‘All right! Stephen.  Whatever you wish I will do; you are the queen of my heart, you know!’

‘How much is the total amount?’ said Stephen.

This was a change to the prosaic which made sentiment impossible.  He gave over, for the time.

‘Go on!’ said Stephen, following up her advantage.  ‘Don’t you even know how much you owe?’

‘The fact is, I don’t.  Not exactly.  I shall make up the amount as well as I can and let you know.  But that’s not what I came about to-day.’  Stephen was going to make an angry gesture of dissent.  She was not going to have that matter opened up.  She waited, however, for Leonard was going on after his momentary pause.  She breathed more freely after his first sentence.  He was unable evidently to carry on a double train of thought.

‘It was about that infernal money-lenders’ letter that the Governor got!’  Stephen got still less anxious.  This open acknowledgment of his true purpose seemed to clear the air.

‘What is the amount?’  Leonard looked quickly at her; the relief of her mind made her tone seem joyful.

‘A monkey!  Five hundred pounds, you know.  But then there’s three hundred for interest that has to be paid also.  It’s an awful lot of money, isn’t it?’  The last phrase was added on seeing Stephen’s surprised look.

‘Yes!’ she answered quietly.  ‘A great deal of money  —  to waste!’  They were both silent for a while.  Then she said:

‘What does your father say to it?’

‘He was in an awful wax.  One of these beastly duns had written to him about another account and he was in a regular fury.  When I told him I would pay it within a week, he said very little, which was suspicious; and then, just when I was going out, he sprung this on me.  Mean of him! wasn’t it?  I need expect no help from him.’  As he was speaking he took a mass of letters from his pocket and began to look among them for the money-lenders’ letter.

‘Why, what a correspondence you have there.  Do you keep all your letters in your pockets?’ said Stephen quietly.

‘All I don’t tear up or burn.  It wouldn’t do to let the Governor into my secrets.  He might know too much!’

‘And are all those letters from duns?’

‘Mostly, but I only keep those letters I have to attend to and those I care for.’

‘Show me the bundle!’ she said.  Then seeing him hesitate, added:

‘You know if I am to help you to get clear you must take me into your confidence.  I dare say I shall have to see a lot more letters than these before you are quite clear!’  Her tone was too quiet.  Knowing already the silent antagonism between them he began to suspect her; knowing also that her own letter was not amongst them, he used his wits and handed them over without a word.  She, too, suspected him.  After his tacit refusal to give her the letter, she almost took it for granted that it was not amongst them.  She gave no evidence of her feeling, however, but opened and read the letters in due sequence; all save two, which, being in a female hand, she gave back without a word.  There was a calmness and an utter absence of concern, much less of jealousy, about this which disconcerted him.  Throughout her reading Stephen’s face showed surprise now and again; but when she came to the last, which was that of the usurers, it showed alarm.  Being a woman, a legal threat had certain fears of its own.

‘There must be no delay about this!’ she said.

‘What am I to do?’ he answered, a weight off his mind that the fiscal matter had been practically entered on.

‘I shall see that you get the money!’ she said quietly.  ‘It will be really a gift, but I prefer it to be as a loan for many reasons.’  Leonard made no comment.   He found so many reasons in his own mind that he thought it wise to forbear from asking any of hers.  Then she took the practical matter in hand:

‘You must wire to these people at once to say that you will pay the amount on the day after to-morrow.  If you will come here to-morrow at four o’clock the money will be ready for you.  You can go up to town by the evening train and pay off the debt first thing in the morning.  When you bring the receipt I shall speak to you about the other debts; but you must make out a full list of them.  We can’t have any half-measure.  I will not go into the matter till I have all the details before me!’  Then she stood up to go.

As they walked across the lawn, she said:

‘By the way, don’t forget to bring that letter with you.  I want to see what I really did say in it!’  Her tone was quiet enough, and the wording was a request; but Leonard knew as well as if it had been spoken outright as a threat that if he did not have the letter with him when he came things were likely to be unpleasant.

The farther he got from Normanstand on his way home the more discontented Leonard grew.  Whilst he had been in Stephen’s presence she had so dominated him, not only by her personality but by her use of her knowledge of his own circumstances, that he had not dared to make protest or opposition; but now he began to feel how much less he was to receive than he had expected.  He had come prepared to allow Stephen to fall into his arms, fortune and all.  But now, although he had practical assurance that the weight of his debts would be taken from him, he was going away with his tail between his legs.  He had not even been accepted as a suitor, he who had himself been wooed only a day before.  His proposal of marriage had not been accepted, had not even been considered by the woman who had so lately broken ironclad convention to propose marriage to him.  He had been treated merely as a scapegrace debtor who had come to ask favours from an old friend.  He had even been treated like a bad boy; had been told that he had wasted money; had been ordered, in no doubtful way, to bring the full schedule of his debts.  And all the time he dared not say anything lest the thing shouldn’t come off at all.  Stephen had such an infernally masterly way with her!  It didn’t matter whether she was proposing to him, or he was proposing to her, he was made to feel small all the same.  He would have to put up with it till he had got rid of the debts!

And then as to the letter.  Why was she so persistent about seeing it?  Did she want to get it into her hands and then keep it, as Harold An Wolf had done?  Was it possible that she suspected he would use it to coerce her; she would call it ‘blackmail,’ he supposed.  This being the very thing he had intended to do, and had done, he grew very indignant at the very thought of being accused of it.  It was, he felt, a very awkward thing that he had lost possession of the letter.  He might need it if Stephen got nasty.  Then Harold might give it to her, as he had threatened to do.  He thought he would call round that evening by Harold’s house, and see if he couldn’t get back the letter.  It belonged to him; Harold had no right to keep it.  He would see him before he and Stephen got putting their heads together.  So, on his way home, he turned his steps at once to Harold’s house.

He did not find him in.  The maid who opened the door could give him no information; all she could say was that Mrs. Dingle the housekeeper had got a telegram from Master saying that he had been called suddenly away on business.

This was a new source of concern to Leonard.  He suspected a motive of some sort; though what that motive could be he could not hazard the wildest guess.  On his way home he called at the post-office and sent a telegram to Cavendish and Cecil, the name of the usurers’ firm, in accordance with Stephen’s direction.  He signed it: ‘Jasper Everard.’

CHAPTER XVII  —  A BUSINESS TRANSACTION

When Stephen had sent off her letter to the bank she went out for a stroll; she knew it would be no use trying to get rest before dinner.  That ordeal, too, had to be gone through.  She found herself unconsciously going in the direction of the grove; but when she became aware of it a great revulsion overcame her, and she shuddered.

Slowly she took her way across the hard stretch of finely-kept grass which lay on the side of the house away from the wood.  The green sward lay like a sea, dotted with huge trees, singly, or in clumps as islands.  In its far-stretching stateliness there was something soothing.  She came back to the sound of the dressing-gong with a better strength to resist the trial before her.  Well she knew her aunt would have something to say on the subject of her interference in Leonard Everard’s affairs.

Her fears were justified, for when they had come into the drawing-room after dinner Miss Rowly began:

‘Stephen dear, is it not unwise of you to interfere in Mr. Everard’s affairs?’

‘Why unwise, Auntie?’

‘Well, my dear, the world is censorious.  And when a young lady, of your position and your wealth, takes a part in a young man’s affairs tongues are apt to wag.  And also, dear, debts, young men’s debts, are hardly the subjects for a girl’s investigation.  Remember, that we ladies live very different lives from men; from some men, I should say, for your dear father was the best of men, and I should think that in all his life there was nothing which he would have wished concealed.  But, my dear, young men are less restrained in their ways than we are, than we have to be for our own safety and protection.’  The poor lady was greatly perturbed at having to speak in such a way.  Stephen saw her distress; coming over to her, she sat down and took her hand.  Stephen had a very tender side to her nature, and she loved very truly the dear old lady who had taken her mother’s place and had shown her all a mother’s love.  Now, in her loneliness and woe and fear, she clung to her in spirit.  She would have liked to have clung to her physically; to have laid her head on her bosom, and have cried her heart out.  The time for tears had not come.  Hourly she felt more and more the weight that a shameful secret is to carry.  She knew, however, that she could set her aunt’s mind at rest on the present subject; so she said:

‘I think you are right, Auntie dear.  It would have been better if I had asked you first; but I saw that Leonard was in distress, and wormed the cause of it from him.  When I heard that it was only debt I offered to help him.  He is an old friend, you know, Auntie.  We were children together; and as I have much more money than I can ever want or spend, I thought I might help him.  I am afraid I have let myself in for a bigger thing than I intended; but as I have promised I must go on with it.  I dare say, Auntie, that you are afraid that I may end by getting in love with him, and marrying him.  Don’t you, dear?’  This was said with a hug and a kiss which gave the old lady delight.  Her instinct told her what was coming.  She nodded her head in acquiescence.  Stephen went on gravely: