Behind A Mask, Louisa May Alcott [rosie project txt] 📗

SUSPENSE

All the next day, Jean was in a state of the most intense anxiety, as every hour brought the crisis nearer, and every hour might bring defeat, for the subtlest human skill is often thwarted by some unforeseen accident. She longed to assure herself that Sir John was gone, but no servants came or went that day, and she could devise no pretext for sending to glean intelligence. She dared not go herself, lest the unusual act should excite suspicion, for she never went till evening. Even had she determined to venture, there was no time, for Mrs. Coventry was in one of her nervous states, and no one but Miss Muir could amuse her; Lucia was ill, and Miss Muir must give orders; Bella had a studious fit, and Jean must help her. Coventry lingered about the house for several hours, but Jean dared not send him, lest some hint of the truth might reach him. He had ridden away to his new duties when Jean did not appear, and the day dragged on wearisomely. Night came at last, and as Jean dressed for the late dinner, she hardly knew herself when she stood before her mirror, excitement lent such color and brilliancy to her countenance. Remembering the wedding which was to take place that evening, she put on a simple white dress and added a cluster of white roses in bosom and hair. She often wore flowers, but in spite of her desire to look and seem as usual, Bella’s first words as she entered the drawing room were “Why, Jean, how like a bride you look; a veil and gloves would make you quite complete!”

“You forget one other trifle, Bell,” said Gerald, with eyes that brightened as they rested on Miss Muir.

“What is that?” asked his sister.

“A bridegroom.”

Bella looked to see how Jean received this, but she seemed quite composed as she smiled one of her sudden smiles, and merely said, “That trifle will doubtless be found when the time comes. Is Miss Beaufort too ill for dinner?”

“She begs to be excused, and said you would be willing to take her place, she thought.”

As innocent Bella delivered this message, Jean glanced at Coventry, who evaded her eye and looked ill at ease.

A little remorse will do him good, and prepare him for repentance after the grand coup, she said to herself, and was particularly gay at dinnertime, though Coventry looked often at Lucia’s empty seat, as if he missed her. As soon as they left the table, Miss Muir sent Bella to her mother; and, knowing that Coventry would not linger long at his wine, she hurried away to the Hall. A servant was lounging at the door, and of him she asked, in a tone which was eager in spite of all efforts to be calm, “Is Sir John at home?”

“No, miss, he’s just gone to town.”

“Just gone! When do you mean?” cried Jean, forgetting the relief she felt in hearing of his absence in surprise at his late departure.

“He went half an hour ago, in the last train, miss.”

“I thought he was going early this morning; he told me he should be back this evening.”

“I believe he did mean to go, but was delayed by company. The steward came up on business, and a load of gentlemen called, so Sir John could not get off till night, when he wasn’t fit to go, being worn out, and far from well.”

“Do you think he will be ill? Did he look so?” And as Jean spoke, a thrill of fear passed over her, lest death should rob her of her prize.

“Well, you know, miss, hurry of any kind is bad for elderly gentlemen inclined to apoplexy. Sir John was in a worry all day, and not like himself. I wanted him to take his man, but he wouldn’t; and drove off looking flushed and excited like. I’m anxious about him, for I know something is amiss to hurry him off in this way.”

“When will he be back, Ralph?”

“Tomorrow noon, if possible; at night, certainly, he bid me tell anyone that called.”

“Did he leave no note or message for Miss Coventry, or someone of the family?”

“No, miss, nothing.”

“Thank you.” And Jean walked back to spend a restless night and rise to meet renewed suspense.

The morning seemed endless, but noon came at last, and under the pretense of seeking coolness in the grotto, Jean stole away to a slope whence the gate to the Hall park was visible. For two long hours she watched, and no one came. She was just turning away when a horseman dashed through the gate and came galloping toward the Hall. Heedless of everything but the uncontrollable longing to gain some tidings, she ran to meet him, feeling assured that he brought ill news. It was a young man from the station, and as he caught sight of her, he drew bridle, looking agitated and undecided.

“Has anything happened?” she cried breathlessly.

“A dreadful accident on the railroad, just the other side of Croydon. News telegraphed half an hour ago,” answered the man, wiping his hot face.

“The noon train? Was Sir John in it? Quick, tell me all!”

“It was that train, miss, but whether Sir John was in it or not, we don’t know; for the guard is killed, and everything is in such confusion that nothing can be certain. They are at work getting out the dead and wounded. We heard that Sir John was expected, and I came up to tell Mr. Coventry, thinking he would wish to go down. A train leaves in fifteen minutes; where shall I find him? I was told he was at the Hall.”

“Ride on, ride on! And find him if he is there. I’ll run home and look for him. Lose no time. Ride! Ride!” And turning, Jean sped back like a deer, while the man tore up the avenue to rouse the Hall.

Coventry was there, and went off at once, leaving both Hall and house in dismay. Fearing to betray the horrible anxiety that possessed her, Jean shut herself up in her room and suffered untold agonies as the day wore on and no news came. At dark a sudden cry rang through the house, and Jean rushed down to learn the cause. Bella was standing in the hall, holding a letter, while a group of excited servants hovered near her.

“What is it?” demanded Miss Muir, pale and steady, though her heart died within her as she recognized Gerald’s handwriting. Bella gave her the note, and hushed her sobbing to hear again the heavy tidings that had come.

_Dear Bella:

Uncle is safe; he did not go in the noon train. But several persons are sure that Ned was there. No trace of him as yet, but many bodies are in the river, under the ruins of the bridge, and I am doing my best to find the poor lad, if he is there. I have sent to all his haunts in town, and as he has not been seen, I hope it is a false report and he is safe with his regiment. Keep this from my mother till we are sure. I write you, because Lucia is ill. Miss Muir will comfort and sustain you. Hope for the best, dear.

Yours, G.C._

Those who watched Miss Muir as she read these words wondered at the strange expressions which passed over her face, for the joy which appeared there as Sir John’s safety was made known did not change to grief or horror at poor Edward’s possible fate. The smile died on her lips, but her voice did not falter, and in her downcast eyes shone an inexplicable look of something like triumph. No wonder, for if this was true, the danger which menaced her was averted for a time, and the marriage might be consummated without such desperate haste. This sad and sudden event seemed to her the mysterious fulfilment of a secret wish; and though startled she was not daunted but inspirited, for fate seemed to favor her designs. She did comfort Bella, control the excited household, and keep the rumors from Mrs. Coventry all that dreadful night.

At dawn Gerald came home exhausted, and bringing no tiding of the missing man. He had telegraphed to the headquarters of the regiment and received a reply, stating that Edward had left for London the previous day, meaning to go home before returning. The fact of his having been at the London station was also established, but whether he left by the train or not was still uncertain. The ruins were still being searched, and the body might yet appear.

“Is Sir John coming at noon?” asked Jean, as the three sat together in the rosy hush of dawn, trying to hope against hope.

“No, he had been ill, I learned from young Gower, who is just from town, and so had not completed his business. I sent him word to wait till night, for the bridge won’t be passable till then. Now I must try and rest an hour; I’ve worked all night and have no strength left. Call me the instant any messenger arrives.”

With that Coventry went to his room, Bella followed to wait on him, and Jean roamed through house and