The Reluctant Widow (29 page)

“Yes,” said John unkindly. “Falling over suits of armor, I dare say. Tell me, ma’am, shall I come over to you? I may be perfectly comfortable on the sofa in this room, you know. I would set old Barrow to mount guard if it were not an object with us to keep the servants in ignorance of our suspicions.”

She thanked him, but upon reflection declined his offer, saying that she was content to trust in Nicky and in Bouncer, who had taken such a dislike to Francis that he barked whenever he encountered him and would certainly rouse the household if Francis ventured out of his chamber during the night. Bouncer opened a pair of sleepy eyes and gently thumped his tail on the carpet.

“Yes,” said Nicky gratefully, “and if I tie him to the foot of the stairs after Francis has gone to bed there can be no fear of his giving him poisoned meat, because he will never be able to come near enough to him to do so. He will have roused the whole house before Francis has had time to reach the head of the stairs.”

“Well, ma’am, I own I think you are wise not to refine too much upon suspicions which may yet prove to be without foundation,” John said. “Indeed, when I reflect soberly I find myself loath to believe that we are not all of us hunting for mares’ nests.”

Such a spiritless remark as this could not have been expected to appeal to Nicky, who was provoked into joining issue with his brother in a very heated manner. But when, a few minutes before dinner was announced, Francis came down from his room, his demeanor gave a good deal of color to John’s prosaic reflections. He wore, besides a complete suit of black embellished with a crepe-edged handkerchief, so woebegone a countenance that it was hard to suspect him of duplicity. His mind seemed to be wholly absorbed by the two evils of his friend’s death and his own incipient cold, and it was difficult to decide which loomed the larger in his brain. Whenever the thought of Louis de Castres came into his head it cast him into a silence broken only by deep sighs. But his conversation turned for the most part on a sore throat which he trusted would not be found to be putrid. He partook sparingly of the pheasant pie, trifled with the ratafia cream, and declined mournfully to taste

the roasted cheese. Nicky, whose ambition was to goad him into betraying himself, divulged to him the discovery of the secret stair, but as the revelation was met with a strong shudder and an urgent prayer to Mrs. Cheviot securely to nail up such an undesirable feature of the house, he could not be said to have got much good by this gambit. Nor did a reference to Eustace Cheviot’s papers succeed better. Francis said that he had no doubt of their being in the utmost disorder, but begged no one would ask him to assist in unraveling them. “For I have no head for business, dear boy: positively none at all! Your estimable brother will do very much better without me. I am so thankful it is he and not I who is an executor of poor Eustace’s will!”

When the party gathered in the parlor after dinner, he very soon detected a draft and directed Nicky where to place a handsome needlework screen so that he might be protected from it. But even this did not serve, and with many apologies to Elinor, he desired Nicky to summon Crawley to his assistance. “For if I were to take one of my colds, you know, I might be tied to Highnoons for a month,” he said earnestly. “The thought of putting Mrs. Cheviot to such inconvenience is very disturbing.”

Elinor could only hope that her countenance did not betray how completely she agreed with him. Miss Beccles came forward with offers of remedies, and Crawley presently draped his cloak round his shoulders and promised to have ready a foot bath of hot mustard and water when he should come up to bed. This he soon did, leaving Nicky to exclaim, “He is the paltriest fellow! Why, I think him worse than Eustace, and as for standing in awe of him, pooh!”

Even Miss Beccles allowed herself to be dissuaded from again roping the handle of his door to Nicky’s. Bouncer was tethered to the banister at the foot of the stairs and provided with a rug to lie upon. This, however, was found to be a failure, that free-spirited animal being unable to brook such unaccustomed restraint, and yelping so persistently that Nicky was obliged to untie him.

After this, peace descended upon the house and remained unbroken until the clatter of dustpans and brushes showed that the servants were once more at work. Scarcely had Elinor risen from the breakfast table than Crawley presented himself to her wearing a most lugubrious expression and informing her in suitably grave accents that his master found himself far from well and begged that a doctor might be summoned. She promised that a message should be dispatched to Dr. Greenlaw and hoped that Mr. Cheviot had been able to swallow some breakfast

“Thank you, madam, just a little thin gruel,” said Crawley. “I have taken the liberty of requesting the cook to make some arrowroot—jelly for my master, which he might be able to partake of a little later.”

“Mutton and herbs make a very supporting broth,” suggested Miss Beccles helpfully. The valet bowed, but shook his head. “My master, thank you, miss, can never stomach mutton. I took the precaution of packing a pot of Dr. Ratcliffe’s Restorative Pork Jelly in the larger valise, and shall endeavor to persuade my master to swallow a spoonful every now and then.”

An inquiry in the kitchen brought corroboration of this tale, and with it a tirade from Mrs. Barrow on the valetudinarian habits of a young gentleman who should, she held, be above coddling himself in such a fashion.

“I disremember when I’ve seen Mr. Francis here without he took ill,” remarked Barrow dispassionately. “I mind one time he gave his ankle a twist and carried on like he was burned to the socket. I dare say we’ll have him here a se’n-night, setting us all by the ears.” “By Jupiter, we will not!” declared Nicky when this was reported to him. “I see his game, Cousin. He thinks to remain on till he may take us off our guard, but it will not answer! I’ll ride for Greenlaw myself—Rufus needs a good gallop, you know!—and see if I don’t get him to have Francis up out of his bed this very day! Yes, and on the road to London, what’s more!” “I wish you may!” she said. “But I do not know how it is to be contrived.” His eyes danced. “Don’t you, though? Smallpox in the village!”

She was obliged to laugh, but doubted whether he would be able to persuade the respectable physician into perjuring himself so shockingly.

“Oh, lord, yes, nothing easier!” Nicky assured her. “I can always make old Greenlaw do what I want. The only rub is that I may have to hunt all over for him. But I dare say I shall discover in which direction he has gone a-visiting. Everyone knows his gig!”

He went off to the stables accompanied by Bouncer, whom, however, he brought back to the house, firmly shutting him in. Bouncer, having scratched vigorously at the front door for some time and addressed it in a crescendo of most distressful sounds, was lured away by Miss Beccles who held out a bone to him as a bait to follow her to the back premises. He there consumed the offering, afterward departing on a foraging expedition of his own through a low window which he found to be conveniently open. Elinor, who caught sight of him from an upper window, sternly bade him return, a command to which he turned a deaf ear. The chance to enjoy a morning’s sport had not come in his way lately, and he was never one to let opportunity slip. Elinor, accepting defeat, closed the window and went down to the kitchen for a prolonged conference with its chatelaine. Retreating at last from Mrs. Barrow’s volubility, she went into the bookroom, to write a careful letter of unconvincing explanation to her Aunt Sophia, who, one of her cousins had warned her, had formed the intention of sending her meek husband into Sussex to discover the truth of her unhappy niece’s reprehensibly secret nuptials. She was engaged on this task when Miss Beccles came in with an imposing inventory of all the linen in the house, written out in her delicate copperplate and copiously annotated with descriptions of rents, darns, and thin patches. Elinor thanked her and promised to read it carefully, a formality the little governess was insistent should be observed. Miss Beccles then trotted away again, zestfully determined to compile a further inventory, this time of all the pickles, preserves, dried fruits, and household remedies to be found in the stillroom. Elinor finished her letter, folded and sealed it, and laid it by for Carlyon to frank for her. To oblige Miss Beccles, she glanced perfunctorily through the inventory, initialed it as she had been directed, and folded the stiff sheets neatly. It occurred to her that Nicky should have returned by this time, and she glanced toward the clock on the mantelpiece only to be exasperated for the fiftieth time since she had come to Highnoons by the realization that it was not going. She got up, the folded inventory still in her hand, and walked over to the fireplace intending to discover if the clock was broken, as all had assumed, or was merely suffering from lack of winding. The works could only be reached from the back, so she laid the inventory down on the mantelpiece and carefully shifted the heavy clock round at right angles to the wall. The door to it was found to be locked and resisted her efforts to pull it open, so she was obliged to abandon the attempt and to replace it in position. She picked up the inventory again and was just adjusting the clock, which she had not set quite straight, when a faint sound came to her ears, as of a creaking board. Her hands dropped. She was in the act of turning round when something struck her a stunning blow on the head and knocked her senseless.

Chapter XVI

Nicky, entering the house by one of the side doors that opened into an anteroom, hung up his hat and whip and went striding off to the front hall, calling out to Miss Beccles whom he saw at the head of the stairs, “Where is Cousin Elinor? I had such a piece of work to find our doctor! But he is coming, never fear! Why, what’s amiss?”

This exclamation was provoked by Francis’ voice, agitatedly raised in the bookroom. “Miss Beccles! Crawley! Barrow! Nicholas! Will no one hear me? Come this instant! Oh, dear, what can have happened?”

Three bounds took Nicholas to the door of the bookroom. He was brought up short by the sight of his hostess lying inanimate on the hearth rug with Francis Cheviot on his knees beside her distractedly splashing water from a vase of snowdrops over her ashen face. The snowdrops lay scattered beside her, the cushion from one of the window seats had been cast on to the floor, and the casement was swinging wide on its hinges. “You villain, what have you done?” thundered Nicky, hurrying forward.

“Do not waste time asking me what I have done!”

Francis besought him. “Summon Miss Beccles, my dear boy! Burned feathers! Where is Crawley? Crawley will know what to do to bring her round! Oh, dear, what in the world can have come over her? My poor nerves!”

By this time Miss Beccles had reached the scene, and with a cry had run toward the group by the fire. “Elinor, my love! Mrs. Cheviot! Oh, what is the matter? What caused her to swoon? Pray let me come there, Mr. Nicky! Run quickly to the kitchen and beg a handful of the pheasant’s feathers from Mrs. Barrow!”

“Yes, yes, and call to that fool of mine!” Francis begged. “He is never where he is wanted! I must have my smelling salts and the hartshorn brought directly. She looks horridly pale! I do not know when I have sustained such a shock! How long has she been lying here? It is a mercy her clothes have not been set alight by a spark from that fire! Do hurry, my dear boy!” “What did you do to her?” Nicky demanded hotly.

“Dear Nicholas, what could I do? I had no time to do more than snatch up that bowl of flowers and cast it over her, and it has not answered in the least! Do pray fetch Crawley! He is very knowledgeable, always knows just what to do in case of illness!” Nicky stood irresolute for a moment, but upon Miss Beccles’ adjuring him to make haste, swung round on his heel and hurried off to the kitchen. By the time he had brought both the Barrows bustling to the bookroom, he had had opportunity to reflect on the improbability of Francis’ having had any hand in Elinor’s plight. He could not imagine any conceivable reason for an assault on her and began to think that she must have been overtaken by a fainting fit. She was still unconscious, but Miss Beccles, in answer to an agitated inquiry from Francis, assured them that her pulse was beating. Francis, abandoning his attempts to assist Miss Beccles, had sunk into a chair and seemed to be almost as much in need of resuscitation as his hostess. So, at any rate, his valet thought, for when he arrived, in. response to Nicky’s shout, he instantly produced a vinaigrette from his pocket and held it beneath his master’s nose. It was waved away.

“Take it to Mrs. Cheviot!” Francis said family. “I must not be selfish, and I dare say I shall not have one of my spasms if I keep very quiet for a minute or two.”

The draft from the open casement was causing the fire to belch puffs of smoke into the room. Nicky said, “It’s all very well of you to have opened the window, but she’s more likely to be smothered by this smoke than to derive the least benefit from such a devilish draft!” “Open the window! You cannot suppose me to have been so imprudent!” exclaimed Francis. “Good God, I had not noticed it! Pray shut it this instant, dear boy! Do you wish me to die of an inflammation on the lung?”

Nicky pulled it to, but turned to stare in surprise. “Did you not throw it open? Who can have done so, then? She would not be sitting here with that wind blowing into the room! And how came that cushion to be on the floor?”

The smell of burned feathers began to mingle with the smoke. Miss Beccles looked up to say, “No, no, she would not have sat with the window open on such a day as this! I know it was not so when I came into this room only half an hour ago! Oh, what can have happened? Is it possible someone has been here and escaped by that way?”