Delphi Complete Works of the Brontes Charlotte, Emily, Anne Brontë (Illustrated) (248 page)

‘Perhaps you did not say to whom the house belonged, Mina?’

‘I said,’ replied Mina smiling, ‘the owner of the house was a great Angrian proprietor, a lineal descendant of the western Pakenhams, and that I was his housekeeper.’

‘Very good; she would not believe you. You look like an Angrian country gentleman’s dolly. Give me your hand, my girl. Are you not as old as I am?’

‘Yes, my lord duke. I was born on the same day, an hour after your grace.’

‘So I have heard, but it must be a mistake. You don’t look twenty, and I am twenty-five, my beautiful western. What eyes! Look at me, Mina — straight and don’t blush — ‘ Mina tried to look, but she could not do it without blushing. She coloured to the temples.

‘Pshaw!’ said his grace, putting her away. ‘Pretending to be modest. My acquaintance of ten years cannot meet my eye unshrinkingly. Have you lost that ring I once gave you, Mina?’

‘What ring, my lord? You have given me many.’

‘That which I said had the essence of your whole heart and mind engraven in the stone as a motto.’

‘Fidelity?’ asked Miss Laury, and she held out her hand with a graven emerald on her forefinger.

‘Right,’ was the reply. ‘Is it your motto still?’ And with one of his haughty, jealous glances he seemed trying to read her conscience. Miss Laury at once saw that late transactions were not a secret confined between herself and Lord Hartford. She saw his grace was unhinged and strongly inclined to be savage; she stood and watched him with a sad, fearful gaze.

‘Well,’ she said, turning away after a long pause, ‘If your grace is angry with me, I’ve very little to care about in this world — ‘ The entrance of servants with the dinner prevented Zamorna’s answer . . .

It was not till after the cloth was withdrawn and the servants had retired that the duke, whilst he sipped his single glass of champagne, recommenced the conversation he had before so unpleasantly entered upon.

‘Come here, my girl,’ he said, drawing a seat close to his side. Mina never delayed nor hesitated, through bashfulness or any other feeling, to comply with his orders.

‘Now,’ he continued, leaning his head towards hers, and placing his hand on her shoulder, ‘are you happy, Mina? Do you want anything?’

‘Nothing, my lord.’ She spoke truly. All that was capable of yielding her happiness on this side of eternity was at that moment within her reach. The room was full of calm. The lamps hung as if they were listening; the fire sent up no flickering flame, but diffused a broad, still, glowing light over all the spacious saloon. Zamorna touched her. His form and features filled her eye, his voice her ear, his presence her whole heart. She was soothed to perfect happiness.

‘My Fidelity,’ pursued that musical voice, ‘if thou hast any favour to ask, now is the time. I’m all concession — as sweet as honey, as yielding as a lady’s glove. Come, Esther, what is thy petition and thy request? Even to the half of my kingdom it shall be granted.’

‘Nothing’, again murmured Miss Laury. ‘Oh, my lord, nothing. What can I want?’

‘Nothing?’ he repeated. ‘What, no reward for ten years’ faith and love and devotion? No reward for the companionship in six months’ exile? No recompense to the little hand that has so often smoothed my pillow in
sickness, to the sweet lips that have many a time in cool and dewy health been pressed to a brow of fever? None to the dark Milesian eyes that once grew dim with watching through endless nights by my couch of delirium? Need I speak of the sweetness and fortitude that cheered sufferings known only to thee and me, Mina, of the devotion that gave me bread when thou wert dying of hunger, and that scarcely more than a year since? For all this and much more must there be no reward?’

‘I have had it,’ said Miss Laury, ‘I have it now — ‘

‘But,’ continued the duke, ‘what if I have devised something worthy of your acceptance? Look up now and listen to me.’ She did look up, but she speedily looked down again. Her master’s eye was insupportable; it burnt absolutely with infernal fire.

‘What is he going to say?’ murmured Miss Laury to herself. She trembled.

 
‘I say, love, pursued the individual, drawing her a little closer to him, ‘I will give you as a reward a husband — don’t start now — and that husband shall be a nobleman, and that nobleman is called Lord Hartford! Now, madam, stand up and let me look at you.’ He opened his arms and Miss Laury sprang erect like a loosened bow.

‘Your grace is anticipated!’ she said. ‘That offer has been made me before. Lord Hartford did it himself three days ago.’

‘And what did you say, madam? Speak the truth now. Subterfuge won’t avail you — ‘

‘What did I say? Zamorna, I don’t know — it little signifies. You have rewarded me, my lord duke, but I cannot bear this. I feel sick.’ With a deep short sob, she turned white, and fell, close by the duke, her head against his foot.

This was the first time in her life that Miss Laury had fainted, but strong health availed nothing against the deadly struggle which convulsed every feeling of her nature when she heard her master’s announcement. She believed him to be perfectly sincere; she thought he was tired of her and she could not stand it.

I suppose Zamorna’s first feeling when she fell was horror; and his next, I am tolerably certain, was intense gratification. People say I am not in earnest when I abuse him, or else I would here insert half a page of deserved vituperation: deserved and heartfelt. As it is, I will merely relate his conduct, without note or com
ment. He took a wax taper from the table and held it over Miss Laury. Hers could be no dissimulation: she went white as marble and still as stone. In truth, then, she did intensely love him with a devotion that left no room in her thoughts for one shadow of an alien image. Do not think, reader, that Zamorna meant to be so generous as to bestow Miss Laury on Lord Hartford. No; trust him; he was but testing in his usual way the attachment which a thousand proofs daily given ought long ago to have convinced him was undying.

While he yet gazed, she began to recover. Her eyelids stirred; then slowly dawned from beneath the large black orbs that scarcely met his before they filled to overflowing with sorrow. Not a gleam of anger, not a whisper of reproach; her lips and eyes spoke together no other language than the simple words,

‘I cannot leave you.’ She rose feebly, and with effort. The duke stretched out his hand to assist her. He held to her lips the scarcely tasted wine glass. ‘Mina,’ he said, ‘are you collected enough to hear me?’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Then listen. I would much sooner give half — aye, the whole of my estates to Lord Hartford than yourself. What I said just now was only to try you.’ Miss Laury raised her eyes, sighed like awaking from some hideous dream, but she could not speak..

“Would I,’ continued the duke, ‘would I resign the possession of my first love to any hands but my own? I would far rather see her in her coffin. I would lay you there as still, as white, and much more lifeless than you were stretched just now at my feet, before I would for threat, for entreaty, for purchase, give to another a glance of your eye, a smile from your lip. I know you adore me now, for you could not feign that agitation; and therefore I will tell you what a proof I gave yesterday of my regard for you. Hartford mentioned your name in my presence, and I revenged the profanation by a shot which sent him to his bed little better than a corpse.’

Miss Laury shuddered, but so dark and profound are the mysteries of human nature, ever allying vice with virtue, that I fear this bloody proof of her master’s love brought to her heart more rapture than horror. She said not a word, for now Zamorna’s arms were again folded round her; again he was soothing her to tranquillity, by endearments and caresses that far away removed all thought of the world, all past pangs of shame, all cold doubts, all weariness, all heartsickness resulting from
hope long-deferred. He had told her that she was his first love, and now she felt tempted to believe that she was likewise his only love. Strong-minded beyond her sex, active, energetic, and accomplished in all other points of view, here she was as weak as a child. She lost her identity. Her very way of life was swallowed up in that of another.

[The tête-à-tête is interrupted by Zamorna’s valet, who calls him from the room to deliver the embarrassing intelligence that ‘Mrs Irving’, now wandering about the halls, bears a disconcerting resemblance to his wife, the duchess.]

‘I was walking carelessly through the passage about ten minutes since, when I heard a step on the stairs — a light step, as if of a very small foot. I turned, and there was a lady coming down. My lord, she was a lady!’

‘Well, sir, did you know her?’

‘I think, if my eyes were not bewitched, I did. I stood in the shade screened by a pillar and she passed very near without observing me. I saw her distinctly, and may I be damned this very moment if it was not — ‘

‘Who, sir?’

‘The duchess!!’ There was a pause, which was closed by a remarkably prolonged whistle from the duke. He put both his hands into his pockets and took a leisurely turn through the room. ‘You’re sure?’ he said. ‘I know you dare not tell me a lie in such matters. Aye, it’s true enough, I’ll be sworn. Mrs Irving, wife of a minister in the north. A satirical hit at my royal self, by God. Pale, fair neck, little mouth and chin. Very good! I wish that same little mouth and chin were about a hundred miles off. What can have brought her? Anxiety about her invaluable husband? Could not bear any longer without him? Obliged to set off to see what he was doing? If she had entered the room unexpectedly about five minutes since — God! I should have had no resource but to tie her hand and foot. It would have killed her. What the devil shall I do? Must not be angry, she can’t do with that sort of thing just now. Talk softly, reprove her gently, swear black and white to my having no connection with Mr Pakenham’s housekeeper — -’ Closing his sililoquy, the duke turned again to his valet.

‘What room did her grace go into?’

‘The drawing room, my lord. She’s there now.’

‘Well, say nothing about it, on pain of sudden death.
Do you hear sir?’ He laid his hand on his heart and Zamorna left the room to commence operations.

Softly unclosing the drawing room door, he perceived a lady by the hearth. Her back was towards him, but there could be no mistake. The whole turn of form, the style of dress, the curled auburn head: all were attributes of but one person, of his own unique, haughty, jealous little duchess. He closed the door as noiselessly as he had opened it, and stole forwards.

The duchess felt a hand press her shoulder, and she looked up. The force of attraction had its usual result, and she clung to what she saw.

‘Adrian! Adrian!’ was all her lips could utter.

‘Mary! Mary!’ replied the duke, allowing her to hang about him. ‘Pretty doings! What brought you here? Are you running away, eloping in my absence?’

‘Adrian, why did you leave me? You said you would come back in a week, and it’s eight days since you left me. Do come home — -’

‘So, you actually have set off in search of a husband,’ said Zamorna, laughing heartily, ‘and been overturned and obliged to take shelter in Pakenham’s shooting box!’

‘Why are you here, Adrian?’ enquired the duchess,

who was far too much in earnest to join in his laugh. ‘Who is Pakenham and who is that person who calls herself his housekeeper? Why do you let anybody live so near Hawkscliffe without ever telling me?’

‘I forgot to tell you,’ said his grace. ‘I’ve other things to think about when those bright hazel eyes are looking up at me. As for Pakenham, to tell you the truth — he’s a sort of left-hand cousin of your own, being natural son to the old admiral, my uncle, in the south; his housekeeper is his sister. Voila tout. Kiss me now.’ The duchess did kiss him, but it was with a heavy sigh. The cloud of jealous anxiety hung on her brow undissipated.

‘Adrian, my heart aches still. Why have you been staying so long in Angria? O, you don’t care for me! You have never thought how miserably I have been longing for your return. Adrian — ‘ she stopped and cried.