The Semi-detached House/Chapter 23
CHAPTER XXIII.
Just as the Hopkinsons had finished breakfast the following morning, they were surprised by an early visit from Willis, who seemed to be in a state of unusual excitement; and instead of the congratulations they had expected, he burst out with something like an oath, adding "And the rascal is actually gone—went off while the dancing was going on; the police were waiting for him at the station, but I suppose he had good intelligence, for he got into a steamer, and has not been heard of since. His precious wife must have feigned that illness, for she is missing too; and now, Mrs. Hopkinson, I want you to do one of your good-natured actions. Marble Hall is full of detectives, and messengers from the Court of Bankruptcy, and ruined tradesmen; and that poor girl, Miss Monteneros, is all alone, and I want you—"
"My dear, don't say another word, I'll go and fetch her. Of course, she must come to us. Dear me! what a world it is! nothing but changes, the Sampsons gone off, and John talking of a voyage, and both the girls going to be married."
"Yes, I know," Willis said, "and I was coming to wish them joy," and he actually went and kissed his sisters-in-law, and said he was delighted. "And now, ma'am, are you ready?" While she went to put on her bonnet, Captain Hopkinson enquired into the probable amount of Willis' own loss, He said that if Baron Sampson's were a mere ordinary bankruptcy, he should lose but a few thousands; but there were rumours of forgeries to a great extent, and he could not yet know whether he might not be one of the victims. "Miss Monteneros does not know either, whether her fortune is not gone too." However, thanks to the blindness of parents, the Sampsons had always believed that Moses was irresistible, and that Rachel would eventually marry him. Mr. Bolland's advice had averted the danger which she had run, of putting the Baron legally in possession of her fortune, and his ruin had at last been so sudden and so complete, that there had been no time to achieve the fraudulent embezzlement of her property.
Mrs Hopkinson found the house in great confusion, and full of strange looking men, some trying to seize valuable property which they looked upon as their own, as it had never been paid for—others guarding it for the general benefit of the creditors, and all heaping abuse, in no measured terms, on the head of the plausible swindler. Rachel was in her own room, preparing for departure, but sinking at times into gloomy reveries, which seemed to unfit her for any exertion. She was in one of these fits of exhaustion when Mrs. Hopkinson arrived, and the sight of an honest and friendly face broke up at once the icy gloom that had closed over her. She burst into a passion of tears, and flinging her arms round Mrs. Hopkinson's neck, she sobbed out, "Ah! I shall be better now, I thought you would come to me."
"Of course, my dear, I am come to you and for you," said Mrs. Hopkinson cheerfully. "This is no place for you, John will be here directly to take care of your property, and you must come home with me. The girls are getting your room ready, and the sooner we go the better. When did the knowledge of all this come upon you?"
"Not till this morning; I was deceived to the last. After the party was over I went up-stairs to see how my aunt was, and her maid met me and said her lady had such a bad headache she wished to keep quite quiet in her own room. At that moment she must have been on the railroad leaving England for ever. "This morning, I found this note on her table, and that is all I know."
"Dear Rachel,
"By a combination of untoward events, added to the easy credulity of your uncle, who is careless to a fault in money matters, our affairs have become so embroiled that we find it necessary to leave England for a short time. I have no doubt that justice will be done to your uncle, and that we shall soon be enabled to overcome the persecution, for I can call it nothing less, raised by his enemies, and a short tour abroad will not be disagreeable to me. Knowing the uncertainties of a commercial life, the dear good Baron, with his accustomed kindness and prévoyance, settled, some time ago, a handsome sum of money on me, payable to my own order, therefore, my dear Rachel, you need not be uneasy lest I should miss any of the luxuries to which I have been accustomed, and which, indeed, are to me, absolutely indispensable. Should I find my own means insufficient, I shall apply to you without scruple, as, thanks to the Baron, you receive your whole fortune untouched, therefore I consider that we have some claims on you, though it is not likely we shall be driven to urge them. I will write from Paris."
"Your affectionate aunt,
"Rebecca, Baroness Sampson."
"And so they are gone to Paris
"No," said Rachel with a deep sigh, "that is as false as all the rest. Two servants and some boxes went to Folkestone. My uncle and aunt went, I believe, to Hull, and sailed this morning for Norway. Mrs. Hopkinson, let me tell you all the truth at once; as my relations, I feel deeply the disgrace that has fallen on them, the misery, the wide spread ruin they have brought on others; but as friends, I cannot affect to regret them. The Baroness is my mother's only sister; I would have loved her, if she would have let me, in the very young days when my affections were warm—but it was impossible. There was nothing genial in her treatment of me, nothing true in her intercourse with others; I cannot tell you how artificial, how mean, with all its splendour, our life was. She has made me what I am—cold, distrustful, unloved and unloving; but at least I am not false."
"No, my dear, that you certainly are not; I should say that, if anything, you were disposed to err the other way, to speak unpleasant truths, for fear you should not speak the truth at all."
"It may be so," said Rachel dejectedly, "I certainly do not make myself generally liked. There is one truth more, I must tell you before I enter your house, perhaps you will think it as unpleasant as all the others. One person in the world really does like me, at least, so he says, and that is your son-in-law; and as my presence in your house might lead to constant meetings with him, or might interfere with your comfort, should he wisely stay away, I feel you ought to know this before I accept your friendly offer. Now you know it, do you still choose to have me?"
"Of course I do, my dear child, all the more for the confidence you have shown me. I am sure I wish with all my heart you would marry Charles, and take little Charlie under your care, for goodness knows what will become of him if I have to go to foreign parts with John; and Willis has a great deal of good in him, if he had not got into such foolish habits of grumbling and groaning; but we think he is very much improved lately, and what is more, we think it is your doing—so there you see, my dear, everybody can be useful somehow, and now come home. How pleased Charlie will be!"
And Charlie became more than ever the charm and interest of Rachel's life. She entered warmly into the happiness of Janet and Rose, but she had little of their society. Mr. Greydon and Mr, Harcourt were always coming and going, and walking and talking, and Rachel looked on with amusement at the sight of four people foolishly and heartily in love. It was a new spectacle to her, and she thought it very entertaining, but rather incomprehensible.
However, she made herself extremely useful, especially in the matter of the trousseaux, not only by her advice and good taste, but by the magnificence of her contributions. In vain did Mrs. Hopkinson remonstrate, Rachel only laughed and she said she knew best what Mrs. Greydon ought to wear when she dined at Chesterton Castle, and what Mrs. Harcourt would want when the regiment was quartered at Windsor, and she must request Mrs. Hopkinson not to interfere.
Willis was much occupied at this time by the settlement of his affairs with the assignees of the Sampson house; but he often passed his evenings with his relations, and Rachel could not but see that his interest in her increased rather than diminished. The only time in which he accidentally saw her alone, he thanked her for her care of Charlie, and said he knew she would be glad to hear that his losses by the bankruptcy did not exceed the £10,000 which he had advanced to the Baron, and which, for some time, he had given up as a bad debt. Rachel looked distressed and ashamed; and became still more confused, when he added that he did not mean to importune her with a repetition of his former declaration, however much his attachment might have strengthened—but he hoped she saw that her advice had not been thrown away, and that, at least, she no longer looked upon him as artificial and untrue.
"I hope we are both improved, and improving," she said kindly. "Who could do otherwise under the influence of these good-hearted people," and then she turned the conversation on the Hopkinsons, and the approaching marriages.
It had been her intention to settle herself at the sea-side after a fortnight's stay at Pleasance; but Janet and Rose dwelt with such melancholy energy on the loneliness of their parents, and the comfort that she would be to their mother after they were gone, that she consented to stay till the return of the Harcourts from their wedding tour. Janet would not be able to leave Chesford, but Rose would then be within reach of Dulham; perhaps in her heart, Rachel dreaded to begin her lonely life, and clung to the kindness she met with at Pleasance.
Aileen's wedding was the first of the three that took place; but as an accurate account of it may be read in any number of the 'Court Journal,' no description is required of it here. There is a frightful sameness in all those great weddings, but the day itself was propitious to the Hopkinsons. Their star was evidently on the ascendant this year. The Duke of St. Maur had engaged in one of those little light speculations, with which people of colossal fortune are apt to amuse themselves, sometimes to the ruin, sometimes to the improvement of their overgrown incomes. He was muddling away two or £300,000 in making a pier and a harbour on the coast of a county, half of which, at least, was his property. The agent in charge of these works had died suddenly; and when the Duke mentioned, incidentally, the difficulty he had to find a trustworthy successor, it occurred to Arthur that Captain Hopkinson would be just the person for the situation. At Aileen's wedding, Arthur had an opportunity of introducing his friend to the Duke, who was much pleased with his intelligence, and frank gentlemanlike manner. The harbour works were such as Captain Hopkinson was peculiarly fitted to undertake, and after due inquiries and references, the offer was made and accepted, and Captain Hopkinson became the Duke's Agent for the Pier and Harbour of Seaview, with a good house and handsome salary.
"Well! there never were such fortunate people as we are," said Mrs. Hopkinson, "There we shall be at the sea, which will make John happy, and not on it which will make me the same—plenty to do, and of course, if any of you want change of air or sea-bathing, there you will be at once! To be sure how things do come about, just from a little neighbourliness and kind feeling. For this is all the doing of that dear kind Lord and Lady Chester. If Lord Chester had not been so well cared for by John, he would have died, and there would have been no Lady Chester; and if I had not stepped out in that blessed shower, with my great umbrella, she would never have known that I was John's wife, or anything but a vulgar old woman, which to be sure, I am; but I shall always think I saved that precious baby's life in that bad confinement of hers. And then if she had been grand and fine, she never would have brought my girls so forward; but she made as much of them as if they were Duke's daughters, and that has ended in Harcourt's marrying Rose; and she got that living for Greydon, without which he could not have married Janet; and now by Lord Chester's introducing John to the Duke, he has got that good appointment. There never was anything like it, well! after to-morrow, when my poor darlings are married and gone, I shall have time to sit down and think it all over, and be thankful. At present, I think I should rather like a good cry."
The weddings of Janet and Rose took place in the quiet little church at Dulham; there was no grand breakfast, no great gathering of mere acquaintances, no long speeches—but there were a few warm friends, much affection, hearts that responded warmly to the vows that were made solemnly, and a bright promise of happiness. Then came the hurried parting, and all was over, and they were gone.
"Oh! Rachel, my dear," said the weeping mother, "you are almost another daughter to me. I wish you could make up your mind to marry Willis, and take my Mary's place, and then you would belong to us, and we should all be settled like the people at the end of a play. Could you not just fall in love with him?"
"Quite impossible, my dear Mrs. Hopkinson, and no blame to Mr. Willis; I do not believe it is in my power to fall in love with anybody."
"Then, my dear, you may just as well marry him as another. I think with you, that you are not like my foolish children, capable of being desperately in love; but then Willis is very much in love with you, and I almost think it is better that the love should be most on the husband's side; and then he is afraid of you, and that is not amiss when the wife is cleverer than the husband. You are always telling me you want to make up to Charlie the loss that you think your uncle has inflicted on him. Depend upon it, Willis will not take a farthing of your money, unless he takes you with it, Rachel," added Mrs. Hopkinson in a quivering voice, "I see now why my poor Mary was not quite happy with him; he married her because he thought it convenient to have a wife, who would do just what he liked, and have no will of her own, but he never cared for her, and admired her as he does you. If he marries you, it is because he worships the ground you tread on, because he looks up to you as much as he looked down on her—because, in short, he has found out that there is something that he loves better than himself."
The effect of this exhortation cannot be known. The Chesters are departing to Chesterton Castle, the Hopkinsons hurrying off to Seaview. The scene is changed, the actors dispersed, but with a pleasing certainty that between Chesterton, Seaview, and Chesford they will constantly meet again; but Pleasance is deserted, and once more there may be seen in the third column of the fourth page of the "Times" the old advertisement.
Dulham.—To be let, a Semi Detached House.
The book is completed
And closed like the day,
And the hand that has written it,
Lays it away.
Postscript. Unfortunately the hand that has laid it away, is obliged to take it up again. From the great importance of the events it contains, immediate publication was, of course, imperative, and the fate of one who played a great part in the history was left undecided; but we have just received the following Telegram.
From Our Special Dulham correspondent.
Willis has been accepted, and is in high spirits.
THE END.
LONDON:
Printed by A. Schulze, 13, Poland Street.