Elster's Folly by Mrs. Henry Wood (most important books to read TXT) 📖

Wondered Whether It Was Really

Herself Or Her Ghost. The Countess-Dowager Came Flying Down The Steps--If

That Term May Be Applied To One Of Her Age And Size--With Rather

Demonstrative Affection; Which,  However,  Was Not Cordially Received.

 

"What's The Matter,  Maude? How You Stare!"

 

"_Is_ It You,  Mamma? How _Can_ It Be You?"

 

"How Can It Be Me?" Returned The Dowager,  Giving Maude's Bonnet A Few

Kisses. "It _Is_ Me,  And That's Enough. My Goodness,  Maude,  How Thin You

Look! I See What It Is! You've Been Killing Yourself In That Racketing

London. It's Well I've Come To Take Care Of You."

 

Maude Went In,  Feeling That She Could Have Taken Care Of Herself,  And

Listening To The Off-Hand Explanations Of The Countess-Dowager. "Kirton

Offended Me," She Said. "He And His Wife Are Like Two Bears; And So I

Packed Up My Things And Came Away At Once,  And Got Here Straight From

Liverpool. And Now You Know."

 

"And Is Lady Kirton Quite Well Again?" Asked Maude,  Helplessly,  Knowing

She Could Not Turn Her Mother Out.

 

"She'd Be Well Enough But For Temper. She _Was_ Ill,  Though,  When They

Telegraphed For Me; Her Life For Three Days And Nights Hanging On A

Shred. I Told That Fool Of A Kirton Before He Married Her That She Had No

Constitution. I Suppose You And Hart Were Finely Disappointed To Find I

Was Not In London When You Got There."

 

"Agreeably Disappointed,  I Think," Said Maude,  Languidly.

 

"Indeed! It's Civil Of You To Say So."

 

"On Account Of The Smallness Of The House," Added Maude,  Endeavouring To

Be Polite. "We Hardly Knew How To Manage In It Ourselves."

 

"You Wrote Me Word To Take It. As To Me,  I Can Accommodate Myself To Any

Space. Where There's Plenty Of Room,  I Take Plenty; Where There's Not,  I

Can Put Up With A Closet. I Have Made Mirrable Give Me My Old Rooms Here:

You Of Course Take Hart's Now."

 

"I Am Very Tired," Said Maude. "I Think I Will Have Some Tea,  And Go To

Bed."

 

"Tea!" Shrieked The Dowager. "I Have Not Yet Had Dinner. And It's

Waiting; That's More."

 

"You Can Dine Without Me,  Mamma," She Said,  Walking Upstairs To The New

Rooms. The Dowager Stared,  And Followed Her. There Was An Indescribable

Something In Maude's Manner That She Did Not Like; It Spoke Of Incipient

Rebellion,  Of An Influence That Had Been,  But Was Now Thrown Off. If She

Lost Caste Once,  With Maude,  She Knew That She Lost It For Ever.

 

"You Could Surely Take A Little Dinner,  Maude. You Must Keep Up Your

Strength,  You Know."

 

"Not Any Dinner,  Thank You. I Shall Be All Right To-Morrow,  When I've

Slept Off My Fatigue."

 

"Well,  I Know I Should Like Mine," Grumbled The Countess-Dowager,  Feeling

Her Position In The House Already Altered From What It Had Been During

Her Former Sojourn,  When She Assumed Full Authority,  And Ordered Things

As She Pleased,  Completely Ignoring The New Lord.

 

"You Can Have It," Said Maude.

 

"They Won't Serve It Until Hartledon Arrives," Was The Aggrieved Answer.

"I Suppose He's Walking Up From The Station. He Always Had A Queer Habit

Of Doing That."

 

Maude Lifted Her Eyes In Slight Surprise. Her Solitary Arrival Was A

Matter Of Fact So Established To Herself,  That It Sounded Strange For Any

One Else To Be In Ignorance Of It.

 

"Lord Hartledon Has Not Come Down. He Is Remaining In London."

 

The Old Dowager Peered At Maude Through Her Little Eyes. "What's That

For?"

 

"Business,  I Believe."

 

"Don't Tell Me An Untruth,  Maude. You Have Quarrelled."

 

"We Have Not Quarrelled. We Are Perfectly Good Friends."

 

"And Do You Mean To Tell Me That He Sent You Down Alone?"

 

"He Sent The Servants With Me."

 

"Don't Be Insolent,  Maude. You Know What I Mean."

 

"Why,  Mamma,  I Do Not Wish To Be Insolent. I Can't Tell You More,  Or

Tell It Differently. Lord Hartledon Did Not Come Down With Me,  And The

Servants Did."

 

She Spoke Sharply. In Her Tired Condition The Petty Conversation Was

Wearying Her; And Underlying Everything Else In Her Heart,  Was The

Mortifying Consciousness That He Had _Not_ Come Down With Her,  Chafing

Her Temper Almost Beyond Repression. Considering That Maude Did Not

Profess To Love Her Husband Very Much,  It Was Astonishing How Keenly She

Felt This.

 

"Are You And Hartledon Upon Good Terms?" Asked The Countess-Dowager After

A Pause,  During Which She Had Never Taken Her Eyes From Her Daughter's

Face.

 

"It Would Be Early Days To Be On Any Other."

 

"Oh," Said The Dowager. "And You Did Not Write Me Word From Paris That

You Found You Had Made A Mistake,  That You Could Not Bear Your Husband!

Eh,  Maude?"

 

A Tinge Came Into Maude's Cheeks. "And You,  Mamma,  Told Me That I Was To

Rule My Husband With An Iron Hand,  Never Allowing Him To Have A Will Of

His Own,  Never Consulting Him! Both You And I Were Wrong," She Continued

Quietly. "I Wrote That Letter In A Moment Of Irritation; And You Were

Assuming What Has Not Proved To Be A Fact. I Like My Husband Now Quite

Well Enough To Keep Friends With Him; His Kindness To Me Is Excessive;

But I Find,  With All My Wish To Rule Him,  If I Had The Wish,  I Could Not

Do It. He Has A Will Of His Own,  And He Exerts It In Spite Of Me; And I

Am Quite Sure He Will Continue To Exert It,  Whenever He Fancies He Is In

The Right. You Never Saw Any One So Changed From What He Used To Be."

 

"How Do You Mean?"

 

"I Mean In Asserting His Own Will. But He Is Changed In Other Ways. It

Seems To Me That He Has Never Been Quite The Same Man Since That Night In

The Chapel. He Has Been More Thoughtful; And All The Old Vacillation Is

Gone."

 

The Countess-Dowager Could Not Understand At All; Neither Did She

Believe; And She Only Stared At Maude.

 

"His _Not_ Coming Down With Me Is A Proof That He Exercises His Own Will

Now. I Wished Him To Come Very Much,  And He Knew It; But You See He Has

Not Done So."

 

"And What Do You Say Is Keeping Him?" Repeated The Countess-Dowager.

 

"Business--"

 

"Ah," Interrupted The Dowager,  Before Maude Could Finish,  "That's The

General Excuse. Always Suspect It,  My Dear."

 

"Suspect What?" Asked Maude.

 

"When A Man Says That,  And Gets His Wife Out Of The Way With It,  Rely

Upon It He Is Pursuing Some Nice Little Interests Of His Own."

 

Lady Hartledon Understood The Implication; She Felt Nettled,  And A Flush

Rose To Her Face. In Her Husband's Loyalty (Always Excepting His Feeling

Towards Miss Ashton) She Rested Fully Assured.

 

"You Did Not Allow Me To Finish," Was The Cold Rejoinder. "Business _Is_

Keeping Him In Town,  For One Thing; For Another,  I Think He Cannot Get

Over His Dislike To Face The Ashtons."

 

"Rubbish!" Cried The Wrathful Dowager. "He Does Not Tell You What The

Business Is,  Does He?" She Cynically Added.

 

"I Happen To Know," Answered Maude. "The Ashtons Are Bringing An Action

Against Him For Breach Of Promise; And He And Mr. Carr The Barrister Are

Trying To Arrange It Without Its Coming To A Trial."

 

The Old Lady Opened Her Eyes And Her Mouth.

 

"It Is True. They Lay The Damages At Ten Thousand Pounds!"

 

With A Shriek The Countess-Dowager Began To Dance. Ten Thousand Pounds!

Ten Thousand Pounds Would Keep Her For Ever,  Invested At Good Interest.

She Called The Parson Some Unworthy Names.

 

"I Cannot Give You Any Of The Details," Said Maude,  In Answer To The

Questions Pressed Upon Her. "Percival Will Never Speak Of It,  Or Allow

Me To Do So. I Learnt It--I Can Hardly Tell You How I Learnt It--By

Implication,  I Think; For It Was Never Expressly Told Me. We Had A

Mysterious Visit One Night From Some Old Parson--Parson Or Lawyer; And

Percival And Mr. Carr,  Who Happened To Be At Our House,  Were Closeted

With Him For An Hour Or Two. I Saw They Were Agitated,  And Guessed What

It Was; Dr. Ashton Was Bringing An Action. They Could Not Deny It."

 

"The Vile Old Hypocrite!" Cried The Incensed Dowager. "Ten Thousand

Pounds! Are You Sure It Is As Much As That,  Maude?"

 

"Quite. Mr. Carr Told Me The Amount."

 

"I Wonder You Encourage That Man To Your House."

 

"It Was One Of The Things I Stood Out Against--Fruitlessly," Was The

Quiet Answer. "But I Believe He Means Well To Me; And I Am Sure He Is

Doing What He Can To Serve My Husband. They Are Often Together About This

Business."

 

"_Of Course_ Hartledon Resists The Claim?"

 

"I Don't Know. I Think They Are Trying To Compromise It,  So That It Shall

Not Come Into Court."

 

"What Does Hartledon Think Of It?"

 

"It Is Worrying His Life Out. No,  Mamma,  It Is Not Too Strong An

Expression. He Says Nothing; But I Can See That It Is Half Killing Him.

I Don't Believe He Has Slept Properly Since The News Was Brought To Him."

 

"What A Simpleton He Must Be! And That Man Will Stand Up In The Pulpit

To-Morrow And Preach Of Charity!" Continued The Dowager,  Turning Her

Animadversions Upon Dr. Ashton. "You Are A Hypocrite Too,  Maude,  For

Trying To Deceive Me. You And Hartledon Are _Not_ On Good Terms; Don't

Tell Me! He Would Never Have Let You Come Down Alone."

 

Lady Hartledon Would Not Reply. She Felt Vexed With Her Mother,  Vexed

With Her Husband,  Vexed On All Sides; And She Took Refuge In Her Fatigue

And Was Silent.

 

The Dowager Went To Church On The Following Day. Maude Would Not Go. The

Hot Anger Flushed Into Her Face At The Thought Of Showing Herself There

For The First Time,  Unaccompanied By Her Husband: To Maude's Mind It

Seemed That She Must Look To Others So Very Much Like A Deserted Wife.

She Comes Home Alone; He Stays In London! "Ah,  Why Did He Not Come Down

Only For This One Sunday,  And Go Back Again--If He Must Have Gone?" She

Thought.

 

A Month Or Two Ago Maude Had Not Cared Enough For Him To Reason Like

This. The Countess-Dowager Ensconced Herself In A Corner Of The Hartledon

State-Pew,  And From Her Blinking Eyes Looked Out Upon The Ashtons. Anne,

With Her Once Bright Face Looking Rather Wan,  Her Modest Demeanour; Mrs.

Ashton,  So Essentially A Gentlewoman; The Doctor,  Sensible,  Clever,

Charitable,  Beyond All Doubt A Good Man--A Feeling Came Over The Mind Of

The Sometimes Obtuse Woman That Of All The People Before Her They Looked

The Least Likely To Enter On The Sort Of Lawsuit Spoken Of By Maude. But

Never A Doubt Occurred To Her That They _Had_ Entered On It.

 

Lady Hartledon Remained At Home,  Her Prayer-Book In Her Hand. She Was

Thinking She Could Steal Out To The Evening Service; It Might Not Be So

Much Noticed Then,  Her Being Alone. Listlessly Enough She Sat,  Toying

With Her Prayer-Book Rather Than Reading It. She Had Never Pretended To

Be Religious,  Had Not Been Trained To Be So; And Reading A Prayer-Book,

When Not In Church,  Was Quite Unusual To Her. But There Are Seasons In

A Woman's Life,  Times When Peril Is Looked Forward To,  That Bring Thought

Even To The Most Careless Nature. Maude Was Trying To Play At "Being

Good," And Was Reading The Psalms For The Day In An Absent Fashion,  Her

Thoughts Elsewhere; And The Morning Passed On. The Quiet Apathy Of Her

Present State,  Compared With The Restless Fever Which Had Stirred Her

During Her Last Sojourn At Hartledon,  Was Remarkable.

 

Suddenly There Burst In Upon Her The Countess-Dowager: That Estimable

Lady's Bonnet Awry,  Her Face Scarlet,  Herself In A Commotion.

 

"I Didn't Suppose You'd Have Done It,  Maude! You Might Play Tricks Upon

Other People,  I Think,  But Not Upon Your Own Mother."

 

The Interlude Was Rather Welcome To Maude,  Rousing Her From Her Apathy.

Not For Some Few Moments,  However,  Could She Understand The Cause Of

Complaint.

 

It Appeared That The Countess-Dowager,  With That Absence Of All Sense Of

The Fitness Of Things Which So Eminently Characterized Her,  Had Joined

The Ashtons After Service,  Inquiring With Quite Motherly Solicitude After

Mrs. Ashton's Health,  Complimenting Anne Upon Her Charming Looks; Making

Herself,  In Short,  As Agreeable As She Knew How,  And Completely Ignoring

The Past In Regard To Her Son-In-Law. Gentlewomen In Mind And Manners,

They Did Not Repulse Her,  Were Even Courteously Civil; And She Graciously

Accompanied Them Across The Road To The Rectory-Gate,  And There Took A

Cordial Leave,  Saying She Would Look In On The Morrow.

 

In Returning She Met Dr. Ashton. He Was Passing Her With Nothing But A

Bow; But He Little Knew The Countess-Dowager. She Grasped His Hand; Said

How Grieved She Was Not To Have Had An Opportunity Of Explaining Away Her

Part In The Past; Hoped He Would Let Bygones Be Bygones; And Finally,

Whilst The Clergyman Was Scheming How To Get Away From Her Without

Absolute Rudeness,  She Astonished