Lady Audley’s Secret M. E. Braddon (best historical fiction books of all time TXT) 📖

say, George Talboys, who very seldom observed anything, took particular notice of this place.

“It ought to be an avenue in a churchyard,” he said. “How peacefully the dead might sleep under this somber shade! I wish the churchyard at Ventnor was like this.”

They walked on to the ruined well; and Alicia told them some old legend connected with the spot⁠—some gloomy story, such as those always attached to an old house, as if the past were one dark page of sorrow and crime.

“We want to see the house before it is dark, Alicia,” said Robert.

“Then we must be quick.” she answered. “Come.”

She led the way through an open French window, modernized a few years before, into the library, and thence to the hall.

In the hall they passed my lady’s pale-faced maid, who looked furtively under her white eyelashes at the two young men.

They were going upstairs, when Alicia turned and spoke to the girl.

“After we have been in the drawing-room, I should like to show these gentlemen Lady Audley’s rooms. Are they in good order, Phoebe?”

“Yes, miss; but the door of the anteroom is locked, and I fancy that my lady has taken the key to London.”

“Taken the key! Impossible!” cried Alicia.

“Indeed, miss, I think she has. I cannot find it, and it always used to be in the door.”

“I declare,” said Alicia, impatiently, “that is not at all unlike my lady to have taken this silly freak into her head. I dare say she was afraid we should go into her rooms, and pry about among her pretty dresses, and meddle with her jewelry. It is very provoking, for the best pictures in the house are in that antechamber. There is her own portrait, too, unfinished but wonderfully like.”

“Her portrait!” exclaimed Robert Audley. “I would give anything to see it, for I have only an imperfect notion of her face. Is there no other way of getting into the room, Alicia?”

“Another way?”

“Yes; is there any door, leading through some of the other rooms, by which we can contrive to get into hers?”

His cousin shook her head, and conducted them into a corridor where there were some family portraits. She showed them a tapestried chamber, the large figures upon the faded canvas looking threatening in the dusky light.

“That fellow with the battle-ax looks as if he wanted to split George’s head open,” said Mr. Audley, pointing to a fierce warrior, whose uplifted arm appeared above George Talboys’ dark hair.

“Come out of this room, Alicia,” added the young man, nervously; “I believe it’s damp, or else haunted. Indeed, I believe all ghosts to be the result of damp or dyspepsia. You sleep in a damp bed⁠—you awake suddenly in the dead of the night with a cold shiver, and see an old lady in the court costume of George the First’s time, sitting at the foot of the bed. The old lady’s indigestion, and the cold shiver is a damp sheet.”

There were lighted candles in the drawing-room. No newfangled lamps had ever made their appearance at Audley Court. Sir Michael’s rooms were lighted by honest, thick, yellow-looking wax candles, in massive silver candlesticks, and in sconces against the walls.

There was very little to see in the drawing-room; and George Talboys soon grew tired of staring at the handsome modern furniture, and at a few pictures of some of the Academicians.

“Isn’t there a secret passage, or an old oak chest, or something of that kind, somewhere about the place, Alicia?” asked Robert.

“To be sure!” cried Miss Audley, with a vehemence that startled her cousin; “of course. Why didn’t I think of it before? How stupid of me, to be sure!”

“Why stupid?”

“Because, if you don’t mind crawling upon your hands and knees, you can see my lady’s apartments, for that passage communicates with her dressing-room. She doesn’t know of it herself, I believe. How astonished she’d be if some black-visored burglar, with a dark-lantern, were to rise through the floor some night as she sat before her looking-glass, having her hair dressed for a party!”

“Shall we try the secret passage, George?” asked Mr. Audley.

“Yes, if you wish it.”

Alicia led them into the room which had once been her nursery. It was now disused, except on very rare occasions when the house was full of company.

Robert Audley lifted a corner of the carpet, according to his cousin’s directions, and disclosed a rudely-cut trap-door in the oak flooring.

“Now listen to me,” said Alicia. “You must let yourself down by the hands into the passage, which is about four feet high; stoop your head, walk straight along it till you come to a sharp turn which will take you to the left, and at the extreme end of it you will find a short ladder below a trap-door like this, which you will have to unbolt; that door opens into the flooring of my lady’s dressing-room, which is only covered with a square Persian carpet that you can easily manage to raise. You understand me?”

“Perfectly.”

“Then take the light; Mr. Talboys will follow you. I give you twenty minutes for your inspection of the paintings⁠—that is, about a minute apiece⁠—and at the end of that time I shall expect to see you return.”

Robert obeyed her implicitly, and George submissively following his friend, found himself, in five minutes, standing amidst the elegant disorder of Lady Audley’s dressing-room.

She had left the house in a hurry on her unlooked-for journey to London, and the whole of her glittering toilette apparatus lay about on the marble dressing-table. The atmosphere of the room was almost oppressive for the rich odors of perfumes in bottles whose gold stoppers had not been replaced. A bunch of hothouse flowers was withering upon a tiny writing-table. Two or three handsome dresses lay in a heap upon the ground, and the open doors of a wardrobe revealed the treasures within. Jewelry, ivory-backed hairbrushes, and exquisite china were scattered here and there about the apartment. George Talboys saw his bearded face and tall, gaunt figure reflected in the glass, and wondered