The Eustace Diamonds (25 page)

‘Oh, that weary India Office!' exclaimed Lizzie.

‘I almost think that you official men are worse off than we barristers,' said Frank. ‘Well, Lizzie, good-bye. I dare say I shall see you again before you start.'

‘Of course you will,' said Lizzie. And then the two lovers were left together. They had met once, at Lady Glencora's ball, since the quarrel at Fawn Court, and there, as though by mutual forbearance, had not alluded to their troubles. Now he had come, especially to speak of the matter that concerned them both so deeply. As long as Frank Greystock was in the room, his work was comparatively easy, but he had known beforehand that he would not find it at all easy should he be left alone with her. Lizzie began. ‘My lord,' she said, ‘considering all that has passed between us, you have been a truant.'

‘Yes; – I admit it – but –'

‘With me, my lord, a fault admitted is a fault forgiven.' Then she took her old seat on the sofa, and he placed himself on the chair which Frank Greystock had occupied. He had not intended to own a fault, and certainly not to accept forgiveness; but she had been too quick for him; and now he could not find words by
which to express himself. ‘In truth,' she continued, ‘I would always rather remember one kindness than a dozen omissions on the part of a friend.'

‘Lady Eustace, I have not willingly omitted anything.'

‘So be it. I will not give you the slightest excuse for saying that you have heard a reproach from me. You have come at last, and you are welcome. Is that enough for you?'

He had much to say to her about the diamonds, and, when he was entering the room, he had not a word to say about anything else. Since that, another subject had sprung up before him Whether he was, or was not, to regard himself as being at this moment engaged to marry Lady Eustace, was a matter to him of much doubt; but of this he was sure, that if she were engaged to him as his wife, she ought not to be entertaining her cousin Frank Greystock down at Portray Castle, unless she had some old lady, not only respectable in life, but high in rank also, to see that everything was right. It was almost an insult to him that such a visit should have been arranged without his sanction or cognizance. Of course, if he were bound by no engagement – and he had been persuaded by his mother and sister to wish that he were not bound – then the matter would be no affair of his. If, however, the diamonds were abandoned, then the engagement was to be continued; – and in that case it was out of the question that his elected bride should entertain another young man – even though she was a widow and the young man was her cousin. Of course, he should have spoken of the diamonds first; but the other matter had intruded itself upon him, and he was puzzled. ‘Is Mr Greystock to accompany you into Scotland?.' he asked.

‘Oh dear no. I go on the thirtieth of this month. I hardly know when he means to be there.'

‘He follows you to Portray?'

‘Yes; – he follows me, of course. “The king himself has followed her. When she has gone before.”'
⁴
Lord Fawn did not remember the quotation, and was more puzzled than ever. ‘Frank will follow me, just as the other shooting men will follow me.'

‘He goes direct to Portray Castle?'

‘Neither directly nor indirectly. Just at present, Lord Fawn, I
am in no mood to entertain guests – not even one that I love so well as my cousin Frank. The Portray mountains are somewhat extensive, and at the back of them there is a little shooting-lodge.'

‘Oh, indeed,' said Lord Fawn, feeling that he had better dash at once at the diamonds.

‘If you, my lord, could manage to join us for a day, my cousin and his friend would, I am sure, come over to the castle, so that you should not suffer from being left alone with me and Miss Macnulty.'

‘At present it is impossible,' said Lord Fawn; – and then he paused. ‘Lady Eustace, the position in which you and I stand to each other, is one not altogether free from trouble.'

‘You cannot say that it is of my making,' she said, with a smile. ‘You once asked – what men think a favour from me; and I granted it – perhaps too easily.'

‘I know how greatly I am indebted to your goodness, Lady Eustace –' And then again he paused.

‘Lord Fawn!'

‘I trust you will believe that nothing can be further from me than you should be harassed by any conduct of mine.'

‘I am harassed, my lord.'

‘And so am I.I have learned that you are in possession of certain jewels which I cannot allow to be held by my wife.'

‘I am not your wife, Lord Fawn.' As she said this, she rose from her reclining posture and sat erect.

‘That is true. You are not. But you said you would be.'

‘Go on, sir.'

‘It was the pride of my life to think that I had attained to so much happiness. Then came this matter of the diamonds.'

‘What business have you with my diamonds – more than any other man?'

‘Simply that I am told that they are not yours.'

‘Who tells you so?'

‘Various people. Mr Camperdown.'

‘If you, my lord, intend to take an attorney's word against mine, and that on a matter as to which no one but myself can know the truth, then you are not fit to be my husband. The
diamonds are my own, and should you and I become man and wife, they must remain so by special settlement. While I choose to keep them they will be mine – to do with them as I please. It will be my pleasure, when my boy marries, to hang them round his bride's neck.' She carried herself well, and spoke her words with dignity.

‘What I have got to say is this,' began Lord Fawn; – ‘I must consider our engagement as at an end unless you will give them up to Mr Camperdown.'

‘I will not give them up to Mr Camperdown.'

‘Then-then-then-'

‘And I make bold to tell you, Lord Fawn, that you are not behaving to me like a man of honour. I shall now leave the matter in the hands of my cousin, Mr Greystock.' Then she sailed out of the room, and Lord Fawn was driven to escape from the house as he might. He stood about the room for five minutes with his hat in his hand, and then walked down and let himself out of the front door.

There is, or there was, a train leaving London for Carlisle at 11 a.m., by which Lizzie purposed to travel, so that she might sleep in that city and go on through Dumfries to Portray the next morning. This was her scheme; but there was another part of her scheme as to which she had felt much doubt. Should she leave the diamonds, or should she take them with her? The iron box in which they were kept was small, and so far portable that a strong man might carry it without much trouble. Indeed, Lizzie could move it from one part of the room to the other, and she had often done so. But it was so heavy that it could not be taken with her without attracting attention. The servant would know what it was, and the porter would know, and Miss Macnulty would know. That her own maid should know was a matter of course; but even to her own maid the journey of the jewels would be remarkable because of the weight of the box, whereas if they went with her other jewels in her dressing-case, there would be nothing remarkable. She might even have taken them in her pocket – had she dared. But she did not dare. Though she was intelligent and courageous, she was wonderfully ignorant as to what might and what might not be done for the recovery of the necklace by Mr Camperdown. She did not dare to take them without the iron box, and at last she decided that the box should go. At a little after ten, her own carriage – the job-carriage,
¹
which was now about to perform its last journey in her service – was at the door, and a cab was there for the servants. The luggage was brought down, and with the larger boxes was brought the iron case with the necklace. The servant, certainly making more of the weight than he need have done, deposited it as a footstool for Lizzie, who then seated herself, and was followed by Miss Macnulty. She would have it placed in the same way beneath her feet in the railway carriage, and again brought into her room at the Carlisle hotel. What though the porter did know! There was nothing illegal in travelling about with a heavy iron box full of diamonds, and the risk would be less this way, she thought, than were she to leave them behind her in London. The house in Mount Street, which
she had taken for the season, was to be given up; and whom could she trust in London? Her very bankers she feared would have betrayed her, and given up her treasure to Mr Camperdown. As for Messrs Harter and Benjamin, she felt sure they would be bribed by Mr Camperdown. She once thought of asking her cousin to take the charge of them, but she could not bring herself to let them out of her own hands. Ten thousand pounds! If she could only sell them and get the money, from what a world of trouble would she be relieved! And the sale, for another reason, would have been convenient; for Lady Eustace was already a little in debt. But she could not sell them, and therefore when she got into the carriage there was the box under her feet.

At that very moment who should appear on the pavement, standing between the carriage and the house-door, but Mr Camperdown! And with Mr Camperdown there was another man – a very suspicious-looking man – whom Lizzie at once took to be a detective officer of police. ‘Lady Eustace!' said Mr Camperdown, taking off his hat. Lizzie bowed across Miss Macnulty, and endeavoured to restrain the tell-tale blood from flying to her cheeks. ‘I believe,' said Mr Camperdown, ‘that you are now starting for Scotland.'

‘We are, Mr Camperdown; – and we are very late.'

‘Could you allow me two minutes' conversation with you in the house?'

‘Oh dear no. We are late, I tell you. What a time you have chosen for coming, Mr Camperdown!'

‘It is an awkward hour, Lady Eustace. I only heard this morning that you were going so soon, and it is imperative that I should see you.'

‘Had you not better write, Mr Camperdown?'

‘You will never answer my letters, madam.'

‘I – I – I really cannot see you now. William, the coachman must drive on. We cannot allow ourselves to lose the train. I am really very sorry, Mr Camperdown; but we must not lose the train.'

‘Lady Eustace,' said Mr Camperdown, putting his hand on the carriage-door, and so demeaning himself that the coachman did
not dare to drive on, ‘I must ask you a question.' He spoke in a low voice, but he was speaking across Miss Macnulty. That lady, therefore, heard him, and so did William, the servant, who was standing close to the door. ‘I must insist on knowing where are the Eustace diamonds.' Lizzie felt the box beneath her feet, and, without showing that she did so, somewhat widened her drapery.

‘I can tell you nothing now. William, make the coachman drive on.'

‘If you will not answer me, I must tell you that I shall be driven in the execution of my duty to obtain a search-warrant, in order that they may be placed in proper custody. They are not your property, and must be taken out of your hands.'

Lizzie looked at the suspicious man with a frightened glance. The suspicious man was, in fact, a very respectable clerk in Mr Camperdown's employment, but Lizzie for a moment felt that the search was about to begin at once. She had hardly understood the threat, and thought that the attorney was already armed with the powers of which he spoke. She glanced for a moment at Miss Macnulty, and then at the servant. Would they betray her? If they chose to use force to her, the box certainly might be taken from her. ‘I know I shall lose the train.' she said. ‘I know I shall. I must insist that you let my servant drive on.' There was now a little crowd of a dozen persons on the pavement, and there was nothing to cover her diamonds but the skirt of her travelling-dress.

‘Are they in this house, Lady Eustace?'

‘Why doesn't he go on?' shouted Lizzie. ‘You have no right, sir, to stop me. I won't be stopped'

‘Or have you got them with you?'

‘I shall answer no questions. You have no right to treat me in this way.'

‘Then I shall be forced, on behalf of the family, to obtain a search-warrant, both here and in Ayrshire, and proceedings will be taken also against your ladyship personally.' So saying, Mr Camperdown withdrew, and at last the carriage was driven on.

As it happened, there was time enough for catching the train – and to spare. The whole affair in Mount Street had taken less than ten minutes. But the effect upon Lizzie was very severe. For
a while she could not speak, and at last she burst out into hysteric tears – not a sham fit, but a true convulsive agony of sobbing. All the world of Mount Street, including her own servants, had heard the accusation against her. During the whole morning she had been wishing that she had never seen the diamonds; but now it was almost impossible that she should part with them. And yet they were like a load upon her chest, a load as heavy as though she were compelled to sit with the iron box on her lap day and night. In her sobbing she felt the thing under her feet, and knew that she could not get rid of it. She hated the box, and yet she must cling to it now. She was thoroughly ashamed of the box, and yet she must seem to take a pride in it. She was horribly afraid of the box, and yet she must keep it in her own very bedroom. And what should she say about the box now to Miss Macnulty, who sat by her side, stiff and scornful, offering her smelling-bottles, but not offering her sympathy? ‘My dear,' she said at last, ‘that horrid man has quite upset me.'

‘I don't wonder that you should be upset,' said Miss Macnulty.

‘And so unjust, too – so false – so – so – . They are my own as much as that umbrella is yours, Miss Macnulty.'

‘I don't know,' said Miss Macnulty.

‘But I tell you,' said Lizzie.

‘What I mean is, that it is such a pity there should be a doubt.'

‘There is no doubt,' said Lizzie; – ‘how dare you say there is a doubt? My cousin, Mr Greystock, says that there is not the slightest doubt. He is a barrister, and must know better than an attorney like that Mr Camperdown.' By this time they were at the Euston Square station, and then there was more trouble with the box. The footman struggled with it into the waiting-room, and the porter struggled with it from the waiting-room to the carriage. Lizzie could not but look at the porter as he carried it, and she felt sure that the man had been told of its contents and was struggling with the express view of adding to her annoyance. The same thing happened at Carlisle, where the box was carried up into Lizzie's bedroom by the footman, and where she was convinced that her treasure had become the subject of conversation for the whole house. In the morning people looked at her as she
walked down the long platform with the box still struggling before her. She almost wished that she had undertaken its carriage herself, as she thought that even she could have managed with less outward show of effort. Her own servants seemed to be in league against her, and Miss Macnulty had never before been so generally unpleasant. Poor Miss Macnulty, who had a conscientious idea of doing her duty, and who always attempted to give an adequate return for the bread she ate, could not so far overcome the effect of Mr Camperdown's visit as to speak on any subject without being stiff and hard. And she suffered, too, from the box – to such a degree that she turned over in her mind the thought of leaving Lizzie, if any possible home might be found for her. Who would willingly live with a woman who always travelled about with a diamond necklace worth ten thousand pounds, locked up in an iron safe – and that necklace not her own property?

But at last Lady Eustace, and Miss Macnulty, and the servants – and the iron box, reached Portray Castle in safety.

*       *       *