Penny Dreadful Multipack Vol. 1 (Illustrated. Annotated. 'Wagner The Wehr-Wolf,' 'Varney The Vampire,' 'The Mysteries of London Vol. 1' + Bonus Features) (Penny Dreadful Multipacks) (231 page)

THE BED OF SICKNESS

RETURN we to the dwelling of Richard Markham on the same day that
Eliza Sydney sought her friend Mrs. Arlington, as related in the preceding
chapter.
    Richard awoke as from a long and painful dream.
    He opened his eyes, and gazed vacantly around him. He was in
his own bed, and Whittingham was seated by his side.
    "The Lord be praised!" ejaculated the faithful old
domestic ;- and conceiving it necessary to quote Scripture upon the occasion of
this happy recovery, he uttered, in a loud and solemn voice, the first sentence
which presented itself to his memory, -  "My tongue is the pen of a
ready writer!"
    "How long have I been ill, Whittingham?" demanded
our hero, in a faint tone.
    "Four blessed days have yon been devoided of your
sensations, Master Richard," was the reply; "and most disastrous was
my fears that you would never be evanescent no more. I have sustained my vigils
by day and my diaries by night at your bed-side, Master Richard and I may say,
without mitigating against truth, that I haven't had my garments off my back
since you was first brought home."
    "Indeed, Whittingham, I am deeply indebted to - you, my
good friend," said Richard, pressing the faithful old domestic's hand.
"But have I really been so very ill?"
    "Ill!" exclaimed Whittingham; " for these
four days you have never opened your eyes, save in delirium, until this moment.
But you have been a ravaging in your dreams - and sobbing - and moaning so! I
suppose, Master Richard, you haven't the most remotest idea of how you come
home again?"
    "Not in the least, Whittingham. All I recollect was,
running along the Richmond Road, in the middle of the night - with a whirlwind
in my brain —"
    "And you must have fallen down from sheer
fatigue," interrupted the butler; " for two drovers picked you up,
and took you to a cottage close by. The people at the cottage searched your
pockets and found your card, so they sent off a messenger to your own house, and
I went in a po-shay, and fetched you home."
    "And I have been ill four whole days!" cried
Markham.
    "Yes, but you don't know yet what has happened during
that period," said the butler, with a solemn shake of the head.
    "Tell me all the news, Whittingham: let me know what
has passed during my illness."
     "I'll repeat to you allegorically all that's incurred," resumed
Whittingham, preparing to enumerate the various incidents upon his fingers.
"In the first place - let me see - yes, it was the first incurrence of any
consequence - the old sow littered. That a nanny goat the first. Then come a
terrible buffoon - a typhoon, I mean - and down tumbled the eastern stack of
chimbleys. The young water-cress gal was confined with a unlegitimated child;
and so I told her mother never to let her call here again, as we didn't
encourage immoral karikters. That a annygoat the third. Next, there a poor Ben
Halliday, who wouldn't pay the pavement rate at Holloway, 'cause he hasn't got
any pavement before his house, sold up, stick and stock; and so I gave him a
couple of guineas. Annygoat the fourth. And last of all, a gentleman's livery
servant - not that villain Yorkminster's, or it whatever his name was - come
with a horse and shay and left your pokmanty, without saying a word. That's
anny —"
    "My portmanteau!" exclaimed Richard, whose
countenance was now suddenly animated with a ray of hope: "and have you
unpacked it?"
    "Not yet: I haven't had no time."
    "Bring it to the bed-side, place it upon a couple of
chairs, and open it at once," said Markham hastily. "Bestir yourself,
good Whittingham: I am anxious to see if there be any note - any letter - any
—"
    While Richard uttered these words with a considerable degree
of impatience, the butler dragged the portmanteau from beneath the bed, where he
had deposited it, and placed it close to his master's right hand. It was
speedily opened, unpacked, and examined throughout; the clothes and linen were
unfolded; and Richard's eyes followed the investigation with the most painful
curiosity. But there was no letter - no note from any inmate of the count's
abode.
    A sudden reminiscence entered his mind. Was the document
signed at the
 
Dark House
 
amongst his papers? He recollected having handed it to the count;
but he could not call to mind what had afterwards become of it. A moment's
examination convinced him that it had not been returned to him. At first he was
grievously annoyed by this circumstance ;- in another minute he was pleased,
for it struck him that, after all, its contents might have been perused by the
count and his family when the excitement of that fatal night had worn off. But
how to wipe away the dread suspicion raised by the Resurrection Man, relative
to the burglary - oh! that was the most painful, and yet the most necessary
task of all!"
    Markham sank back upon his pillow, and was lost it in
thought, when a low knock was heard at the door of his chamber. Whittingham
answered it, and introduced Mr. Monroe.
    The old man was the very picture of care and wretchedness :-
the mark of famine was, moreover, upon his sunken cheeks. His eyes were dead
and lustreless ; - his neck, his wrists, and his hands - scorned nothing but
skin and bone. In spite of the cleanliness of his person, the threadbare shabbiness
of his clothes could not escape the eye of even the most superficial observer.
    Markham had not seen him for some months; and now,
forgetting his own malady and his own cares, he felt shocked at the dreadful
alteration wrought upon the old man's person during that interval. On his part,
Mr. Monroe was not less surprised to find Richard upon a bed of sickness. 
    "My dear sir," said Markham, "you are ill -
you are suffering - and you do not come to me to —"
    "What! you have penetrated my secret, Richard!"
exclaimed the old man bitterly. "Well - I will conceal the truth no
longer: yes - myself and my poor daughter - we are dying by inches!"
    "My God! and you were too proud to come to me! Oh! how
sincerely - how eagerly would I have offered you the half of all I possess
—"
    "How could I come to you, Richard," interrupted
the old man, bursting into tears, "when I had already ruined you?"
    "No - not you - not you," said Markham: "you
were the victim of a scoundrel; and, in acting for the best, you lost
all!"
    "God knows how truly you speak!" cried the old man
fervently. "But tell me - what ails you? and how long have you been upon a
bed of sickness?"
    "A day or two ;- it is nothing! Never mind me - I am
now well - at all events, much better :- let us talk of yourself and your own
affairs."
    "My fate. Richard, is a melancholy one - my destiny is
sad, indeed! From the pinnacle of wealth and prosperity I have been dashed down
to the lowest abyss of destitution and misery! But it is not for myself that I
complain - it is not for myself that I suffer! I am by this time inured to
every kind of disappointment and privation : - but my daughter - my poor Ellen!
Oh! my God - it was for her sake that I came to you this morning to implore the
wherewith to purchase a loaf of bread!"
    "Merciful heavens, Mr. Monroe! are you reduced to
this?" cried Richard, horror-struck at the piteous tale thus conveyed to
him in a few words.
    "It is true :-we are starving!" answered the old
man, sinking into a chair, and sobbing bitterly.
    Whittingham walked towards the window, and wiped his eyes
more than once.
    "Ah! I am glad you have come to me at last," said
Markham. " I will assist you to the utmost of my power - I will never let
you want again! Oh! that villain Montague I how many hearts has he already
broken - how many more will he yet break!"
    "He is the cause of all this deep - deep misery,"
observed Monroe. "But not alone by me is his name mentioned with loathing
and horror: others have doubtless been, and will yet be, his victims. I have
learnt - by the merest accident - that he has changed his name, and is now
pursuing at the West End, the same course he so successfully practised in the
City."
    "Changed his name!" ejaculated Markham. "And
what does he call himself now?"
    "Greenwood," answered Mr. Monroe.
    "Greenwood! George Montague and Greenwood one and the
same person!" cried Richard, suddenly recalling to mind the name of the
individual to whom the count had entrusted his capital. "Ah! you talk of
new victims-  I know one, whose ruin is perhaps by this time consummated.
Quick - quick, Whittingham, give me writing materials: I will send a warning -
although I am afraid it is already too late!"
    While Whittingham was arranging his master's portfolio upon
the coverlid of the bed, Markham reflected upon the best means of communicating
to Count Alteroni the character of the man to whom he had confided his fortune,
and whom he thought of favourably as a suitor for his daughter's hand. Anonymous
letters were detestable to the honourable and open disposition of Richard, and
he hesitated at the idea of sending a note direct from himself, fearing that it
might be thrown into the fire the moment its signature should be perceived, and
thus fail in its proposed aim. To call upon the count was impossible: to send
Mr. Monroe was disagreeable. To communicate the important intelligence was
imperiously necessary. But how was it to be conveyed? An idea struck across his
brain in this perplexity :- he would write to the countess,  and trust to
the natural curiosity of the female disposition to ensure the perusal of his
letter. He accordingly penned the ensuing epistle:-

"MADAM,

"Although calumniated in the presence of Count Alteroni,
without being permitted to justify myself, and although ruined in your
estimation, without the freedom of explanation, - believe me, I have still the
welfare of your family most sincerely at heart. As a proof of this assertion,
allow me to inform you that the Mr. Greenwood, to whom Count Alteroni has
entrusted his capital, is an adventurer and a villain. I on several occasions
casually mentioned to you that I was plundered of all my property, before I
became of an age entitled to enjoy it. My guardian Mr Monroe, employed a certain
Mr. Allen to speculate for him; and this Mr. Allen was mercilessly robbed of
all he possessed. and all he could raise, and all his friends who backed him
could provide him with, by a miscreant of the name of Montague. These
particulars, which I never mentioned to you before, I now deem it requisite to
acquaint you with. Madam, that same George Montague is your Mr. Greenwood!
    "I remain, Madam, your obedient servant
           
"RICHARD MARKHAM"

This letter was dispatched that same evening to Richmond.

ACCUSATIONS AND EXPLANATIONS

IT was seven o'clock pi the evening.
    Count Alteroni was sipping his claret; the countess was
reading a new German novel; and the Signora Isabella was sitting in a pensive
and melancholy mood, apparently occupied with some embroidery or other
fancy-work, but in reality bent only upon her own painful reflections.
    The air of this charming girl was languishing and sorrowful;
and from time to time a tear started into her large black eye. That crystal
drop upon the jet fringe of her eye-lid, seemed like the dew hanging on the
ebony frame of a window.
    The delicate hue of the rose which usually coloured her
cheeks, and appeared as it were beneath the complexion of faint bistre which
denoted her Italian origin, had fled; and her sweet vermilion lips were no
longer wreathed in smiles.
    "Isabel, my love," said the count, "you are
thoughtful this evening. What a silly girl you are to oppose that tyrannical
little will of your own to my anxious hopes and wishes for your welfare -
especially as I must know so much better than you what is for your good and
what is not."
    "I think," answered Isabella, with a deep sigh,
"that I oppose no tyrannical will to your lordship's commands."
    "Lordship's commands!" repeated the count,
somewhat angrily. "Have I not ordered our rank and station to be forgotten
here - in England? And as for commands, Bella," added the nobleman,
softening, "I have merely expressed my wish that you should give Mr.
Greenwood an opportunity of proving his disinterested affection and securing
your esteem  - especially on the occasion of our approaching visit to our
friends the Tremordyns."
    "My dear papa," answered the signora, "I have
faithfully promised you that if Mr. Greenwood should gain my affections, he
shall not sue in vain for my hand."
    "That is a species of compromise which I do not
understand," exclaimed the count. "Have you any particular aversion
to him?"
    "I have no aversion - but I certainly have no
love," replied Isabella firmly; "and where there is not love, dear
father, you would not have me wed?"
    "Oh! as for love," said the count, evading a
direct reply to this query, "time invariably thaws away those stern
resolves and objections which young ladies sometimes choose to entertain, in
opposition to the wishes of their parents."
    "My lord, I have no power over volition,"
exclaimed Isabella, with difficulty restraining her tears.
    "This is very provoking, Isabella - very! " said
the count, drinking his claret with rapidity. "This man is in every way
worthy of you - rich, genteel, and good-looking. As for his rank - it is true
that he has no title: but of what avail to us are rank and title - exiled as we
are from our native land —"
    "Oh! my dear father!" cried Isabella, wiping her
eyes; "do not fancy so ill of me as to suppose that I languish for rank,
or care for honour! No - let me either possess that title which is a reflection
of your own when in Castelcicala ;- or let me be plain Signora Isabella in a
foreign land. Pomp and banishment - pride and exile, are monstrous
incongruities!"
    "That is spoken like my own dear daughter,"
exclaimed the count. "The sorrows of my own lot are mitigated by the
philosophy and firmness with which you and your dear mother support our change
of fortunes ;- and, alas! I see but little chance of another re-action in our
favour. O my dear country! shall I ever see thee more? Wilt thou one day
recognise those who really love thee?"
    A profound silence ensued: neither of the ladies chose to
interrupt the meditations of the patriot; and he himself rose and paced the
room with agitated steps.
    "And it is this despair when I contemplate my future
prospects," continued the nobleman, after a long pause, "that induces
me to wish to see you speedily settled and provided for, my dearest Isabella.
What other motive can I have but your good?"
    "Oh! I know it - I know it, my dear father," cried
the charming girl; "and it is that conviction which makes me wretched when
I think how reluctant I am to obey you in this instance. But do not grieve
yourself, my dear father - and do not be angry with me! I will be as civil and
friendly as I can to this Mr. Greenwood; and if - and if —"
    The beautiful Italian could say no more:  her heart was
full - almost to bursting; and throwing herself into her mother's arms, she
wept bitterly.
    The count, who was passionately attached to his daughter,
was deeply affected and greatly shocked by this demonstration of her feelings.
He had flattered himself that her repugnance to Mr. Greenwood was far from
being deeply rooted, and was merely the result of a young girl's fears and
anxieties when she found that she was not romantically attached to her suitor.
But he little suspected that she cherished a sincere and tender passion for
another - a passion which she might essay in vain to conquer.
   
 
"Bella, my darling," he
exclaimed, "do not give way to grief: you cannot think that I would
sacrifice you to gold - mere gold? No - never, never! Console yourself - you
shall never be dragged a victim to the altar!"
    "My dearest father," cried Isabella, turning
towards the count and embracing him fondly,- "God, who reads all my
actions, knows that I would make any sacrifice to please you - to spare you one
pang - to forward your views! Oh! believe me, I am too well aware of the deep
responsibility under which I exist towards my parents - too deeply imbued with
gratitude for all your kindness towards me, not to be prepared to obey your
wishes!"
    "I will exact no sacrifice, dearest girl," said
the count. "Compose yourself - and do not weep!"
     At that moment a loud double knock at the front door
resounded through the house; and scarcely bad Isabella, recovered her
self-possession, when Mr. Greenwood was announced.
    "Ladies, excuse this late visit," said the
financier, sailing into the room with his countenance wreathed into the
blandest smiles; "but the truth is, I had  business in the
neighbourhood, and I could not possibly pass without stopping for a few moments
at a mansion where there are such attractions."
    These last words were addressed pointedly to Isabella, who
only replied to the compliment by a cold bow.
    "Count," said Mr. Greenwood, now turning towards
the nobleman, "I have not seen you since our adventure upon the highway!
But I was delighted to learn that you had received no injury."
    "My only regret is that I did not shoot the
villains," answered the count. "Have you had another deed prepared,
to replace the one stolen from me on that occasion?"
    "I have given my solicitors the necessary
instructions," answered Greenwood. "In a few days —"
    "Every thing with you is in a few days,
Greenwood," interrupted the count, somewhat pointedly. "That deed
would not occupy one day to engross, now that the copy is at your attorney's
office; and it would have been a mark of goodwill on your part —"
    "Pray do not blame me! "exclaimed the financier,
smiling so as to display his very white teeth, of which he seemed not a little
proud. "I believe that for a man who has so much business upon his hands,
and the interests of so many to watch and care for, I am as punctual to my
appointments as most people."
    "I do not speak of want of punctuality in keeping
appointments," said the nobleman: "but I allude to the neglect of a
matter which to you may appear trivial, but which to me is of importance."
    "Oh! my dear count - we will repair this little error
the day after to-morrow - or the next day," answered Mr. Greenwood:
"I wish that every body was as regular and as punctual with me, as I
endeavour to be with others; and that punctuality on my part my dear sir, has
been the origin of my fortune.  I do not like to speak of myself, ladies -
I hate egotism - but really," he added with another smile, "when one
is attacked, you know —"
    At that moment a domestic entered the room, and handed a
letter to the countess, who immediately opened it, glanced towards the
signature, and exclaimed almost involuntarily, "From Richard
Markham!"
    "Richard Markham!" cried Mr. Greenwood: "I
thought I understood you that that gentleman has ceased to visit or correspond
with you?"
    "So I said - and so I shall maintain! " exclaimed
the count. "My dear, we will return that letter without reading it."
    "But I have already commenced the perusal of it,"
said the countess, without taking her eyes off the paper: "and —"
    "Then read no more," cried the count, angrily.
    "Excuse me - I shall read it all," answered the
countess significantly: "and so will you."
    "What means this? " ejaculated the count.
"Have I last all authority in my own house? Madam, I command you —"
    "There - I have finished it, and I implore you to read
it yourself. Its contents are highly important, and do not in any way relate to
certain recent events. Indeed he has purposely avoided any thing which may
appear obtrusive, either in the shape of explanation or apology."
    The count took the letter with a very ill grace, and
requested Mr. Greenwood's permission to read it. This was of course awarded;
and the nobleman commenced the perusal. He had not, however, read many lines,
before he gave a convulsive start, and looked mistrustfully upon Mr. Greenwood
(who noticed his emotion), an~ hastily ran his eye over the remainder of the
letter's contents.
    He then folded up the letter, and appeared to be absorbed in
deep thought for several moments. Mr. Greenwood saw that the note bore some
allusion to himself, and prepared his mind for any explanation, or any storm.
    The countess sate, pale and unhappy, in deep meditation; and
the eyes of Isabella wandered anxiously from one to the other.
    At length the count, in a tone which showed with how much
difficulty he suppressed an outbreak of his irritated feelings, turned abruptly
towards Mr. Greenwood, exclaiming, " Pray, sir, how long is it since you
were acquainted with one George Montague?"
    Mr. Greenwood was not taken at all aback. This  was a
question to which he was always liable, and for which he was constantly
prepared. He accordingly answered, with his usual smile of complaisance, in the
following manner;-
     "Oh! my dear sir, I presume you are acquainted
with the fact that my name was once Montague, since you ask me that question. I
may also suppose that some one has communicated that circumstance to you with a
desire to prejudice your opinion; but I can assure you that I have not changed
my name for any sinister purpose. My only motive was the request of an old
lady, who left me a considerable property some time ago, upon that condition."
    "And you can also explain, perhaps, the nature of your
dealings with a certain Mr. Allen?" demanded the count, staggered at the
assurance with which Mr. Greenwood met an accusation that the nobleman imagined
would have overwhelmed him with confusion.
    "My dear sir," replied the financier, very far
from betraying any embarrassment, whatever he might have felt, "I can
explain that and every other action of my life. I was myself misled - I was
duped - I was involved in an enterprise which entailed ruin upon myself and all
connected with me. I suffered along with the others, and gave up all to the
creditors. I have, however, been enabled to build up my fortunes again by means
of the property left to me, and a series of successful operations. All people
in commercial and financial affairs are liable to disappointment and
embarrassment: the most cautious may over-speculate or miscalculate, and
how can I be blamed more than another?"
    "I will admit that a particular enterprise may
fail," said the count: "but the writer of this letter, explained to
me on one or two occasions, enough to enable me to comprehend the whole
machinery of fraud which you put into motion to obtain money from the public;
and though he never mentioned any names until to-day, in his letter, I might
—"
    "Every man has his enemies," said Mr. Greenwood,
calmly: "I cannot hope to be without mine. They may assert what they
choose: upright and impartial men never listen to one-sided statements. But
perhaps the writer of that letter —"
    "He is the Mr. Markham of whom I have often spoken to
you, and concerning whom you were always asking me questions. I could not
conceive," proceeded the count, "why you were so curious to pry into
his affairs, especially as when I mentioned you to him by the name of
Greenwood, he did not seem to know any thing about you. But I can now well
understand why you should wish to know something of a man whom you
ruined!"
    "I ruined!" cried Mr. Greenwood, now excited for
the first time since the commencement of this dialogue, and speaking with an
air of unfeigned astonishment. "There must be some mistake in this! I
never had any dealings with him in my life, which could either cause his ruin
or establish his prosperity."
    "You took very good care, it would appear, not to do
the latter," said the count. "But probably Mr. Markham's letter will
explain to you that which you appear to have forgotten."
    Count Alteroni handed the letter to Mr. Greenwood, who
perused its contents with intense interest. and anxiety.
    The count, the countess, and the signora watched. his
countenance as he read it. Proficient in the art of duplicity as he was,-
skilled in all the wiles of hypocrisy and deceit, he could not conceal his
emotions now. There was something in that letter which chased the colour from
his cheeks, and convulsed his whole frame with extreme agony.
    "This is indeed singular!" he murmured, turning,
the letter over and over in his hand. "Who would have suspected that Allen
was merely an agent? who could have foreseen
 
where that blow was to strike
? Strange - unaccountable
concatenation of unfortunate circumstances!"
    "Is the writer of that letter correct in his statement?
" demanded the count imperiously. 
    "The information given to you by Mr. Markham, relative
to the losses experienced by a certain Mr. .Allen, is correct," returned
Mr. Greenwood, apparently labouring under considerable excitement. 
"But, I take my God to witness, that, until this moment, I was unaware
that either Mr. Monroe or Mr. Markham were in the remotest way connected with
that affair; and I also solemnly protest that I would have given worlds sooner
than have been the' means of injuring either of them !"
    "You admit, then, that you defrauded the people who at
that time placed their funds in your hands?" said the count.
    "I admit nothing of the kind," returned the
financier, now recovering his presence of mind: " I. admit nothing so base
as your insinuation implies."
    "Then wherefore were you so agitated when you perused
that letter from Mr. Richard Markham?"
    "Count Alteroni, I am not aware that I owe you any
explanation of my own private feelings. It is true, I