Run to Earth, Mary Elizabeth Braddon [classic literature books txt] 📗

suppose?"

"That's about it, my lady," answered Mr. Milsom, with supreme coolness. "I don't mind a few hard words, more or less--they break no bones; and, what's more, I'm used to 'em. What I want is money, ready money, down on the nail, and plenty of it. You may pelt me as hard as you like with fine speeches, as long as you cash up liberally; but cash I must have, by fair means or foul, and I want a pretty good sum to start with."

"You want a large sum," said Honoria, quietly; "how much do you want?"

"Well, I don't want to take a mean advantage of your generosity, so I'll be moderate. Say five thousand pounds--to begin with."

"And you expect to get that from me?"

"Of course I do."

"Five thousand pounds?"

"Five thousand pounds, ready money."

Lady Eversleigh stopped suddenly, and looked the man full in the face.

"You shall not have five thousand pence," she exclaimed, "not five thousand pence. My dead husband's money shall never pass into your hands, to be squandered in scenes of vice and crime. If you choose to live an honest life, I will allow you a hundred a year--a pension which shall be paid you quarterly--through the hands of my London solicitors. Beyond this, I will not give you a halfpenny."

"What!" roared Black Milsom, in an infuriated tone. "What, Jenny Milsom, Honoria, Lady Eversleigh, or whatever you may please to call yourself, do you think I will stand that? Do you think I will hold my tongue unless you pay me handsomely to keep silence? You don't know the kind of man you have to deal with. To-morrow every one in the village shall know what a high-born lady lives up at the old castle--they shall know what a dutiful daughter the lady of Raynham is, and how she suffers her father to tramp barefoot in the mud, while she rides in her carriage!"

"You may tell them what you please."

"I'll tell them plenty, you may depend upon it."

"Will you tell them how Valentine Jernam came by his death?" asked Honoria, in a strange tone.

The tramp started, and for a few moments seemed at a loss for words in which to reply. But he recovered himself very quickly, and exclaimed, savagely--

"I'm not going to tell them any of your senseless dreams and fancies; but I mean to tell them who you are. That will be quite enough for them; and before I do let them know so much, you'd better change your mind, and act generously towards me."

"Upon that subject I shall never change my mind," answered Honoria Eversleigh, with perfect self-possession. "You will accept the pension I offer you, or you will reject it, as you please--you will never receive more, directly or indirectly, from me," she continued, presently. "As for your threat of telling my miserable history to the people of this place, it is a threat which can have no influence over me. Tell these people what you choose. Happily, the opinion of the world is of small account to me."

"You will change your mind between this and to-morrow morning," cried Black Milsom.

He was almost beside himself with rage and mortification. He felt as if he could have torn this woman to pieces--this proud and courageous creature, who dared to defy him.

"I shall not change my mind," answered Honoria. "You could not conquer me, even when I was a weak and helpless child; you must remember that."

"Humph! you were rather a queer temper in those days--a strange-looking child, too, with your white face and your big black eyes."

"Aye; and even in those days my will was able to do battle with men and women, and to support me even against your violence. You, and those belonging to you, were able to break my heart, but were not strong enough to bend my spirit. I have the same spirit yet, Thomas Milsom; and you will find it useless to try to turn me from my purpose."

The man did not answer immediately. He looked fiercely, searchingly, at the pale, resolute face that was turned to him in the moonlight.

"The name of my solicitor is Dunford," said Honoria, presently; "Mr. Joseph Dunford, of Gray's Inn. If you apply to him on your arrival in London, he will give you the first installment of your pension."

"Five and twenty pounds!" grumbled Milsom; "a very handsome amount, upon my word! And you have fifteen thousand a year!"

"I have."

"May the curse of a black and bitter heart cling to you!" cried the man.

Lady Eversleigh turned from her companion with a gesture of loathing. But there was no fear in her heart. She walked slowly back to the gate leading into the meadow, followed by Milsom, who heaped abusive epithets upon her at every step. As she entered the meadow, the figure of the spy drew suddenly back into the shadow of the hedge; from which it did not emerge till Honoria had disappeared through the little gate on the opposite side of the field, and the heavy tramp of Milsom's footsteps had died away in the distance.

Then the figure came forth into the broad moonlight; and that subdued, but clear radiance, revealed the pale, thin face of Jane Payland.

* * * * *


When Jane Payland was brushing her mistress's hair that night, she ventured to sound her as to her future movements, by a few cautions and respectful questions, to which Lady Eversleigh replied with less than her usual reticence. From her lady's answers, the waiting-maid ascertained that she had no idea of seeking any relaxation in change of scene, but purposed to reside at Raynham for at least one year.

Jane Payland wondered at the decision of her mistress's manner. She had imagined that Lady Eversleigh would be eager to leave a place in which she found herself the object of disapprobation and contempt.

"If I were her, I would go to France, and be a great lady in Paris-- which is twenty times gayer and more delightful than any place in stupid, straight-laced old England," thought Jane Payland. "If I had her money, I would spend it, and enjoy life, in spite of all the world."

"I'm afraid your health will suffer from a long residence at the castle, my lady," said Jane, presently, determined to do all in her power to bring about a change in her mistress's plans. "After such a shock as you have had, some distraction must be necessary. When I had the honour of living with the Duchess of Mountaintour, and we lost the dear duke, the first thing I said to the duchess, after the funeral, was--'Change of scene, your grace, change of scene; nothing like change of scene when the mind has received a sudden blow.' The sweet duchess's physician actually echoed my words, though he had never heard them; and within a week of the sad ceremony we started for the Continent, where we remained a year; at the end of which period the dear duchess was united to the Marquis of Purpeltown."

"The duchess was speedily consoled," replied Lady Eversleigh, with a smile which was not without bitterness. "No doubt the variety and excitement of a Continental tour did much towards blotting out all memory of her dead husband. But I do not wish to forget. I am in no hurry to obliterate the image of one who was most dear to me."

Jane Payland looked very searchingly at the pale, earnest face reflected in the glass.

"For me, that which the world calls pleasure never possessed any powerful fascination," continued Honoria, gravely. "My childhood and youth were steeped in sorrow--sorrow beyond anything you can imagine, Jane Payland; though I have heard you say that you have seen much trouble. The remembrance of it comes back to me more vividly than ever now. Thus it is that I shrink from society, which can give me no real pleasure. Had I no special reason for remaining at Raynham, I should not care to leave it"

"But you have a special reason, my lady?" inquired Jane, eagerly.

"I have."

"May I presume to ask--"

"You may, Jane; and I think I may venture to trust you fully, for I believe you are my friend. I mean to stay at Raynham, because, in this hour of sorrow and desolation, Providence has not abandoned me entirely to despair. I have one bright hope, which renders the thought of my future endurable to me. I stay at Raynham, because I hope next spring an heir will be born to Raynham Castle."

"Oh, what happiness! And you wish the heir to be born at the castle, my lady?"

"I do! I have been the victim of one plot, but I will not fall blindfold into a second snare; and there is no infamy which my enemies are not base enough to attempt. There shall be no mystery about my life. From the hour of my husband's death to the hour of his child's birth, the friends of that lost husband shall know every act of my existence. They shall see me day by day. The old servants of the family shall attend me. I will live in the old house, surrounded by all who knew and loved Sir Oswald. No vile plotters shall ever be able to say that there was trick or artifice connected with the birth of that child. If I live to protect and watch over it, that infant life shall be guarded against every danger, and defended from every foe. And there will be many foes ready to assail the inheritor of Raynham."

"Why so, my lady?"

"Because that young life, and my life, will stand between a villain and a fortune. If I and my child were both to die, Reginald Eversleigh would become possessor of the wealth to which he once was the acknowledged heir. By the terms of Sir Oswald's will, he receives very little in the present, but the future has many chances for him. If I die childless, he will inherit the Raynham estates. If his two cousins, the Dales, die without direct heirs, he will inherit ten thousand a year."

"But that seems only a poor chance after all, my lady. There is no reason why Sir Reginald Eversleigh should survive you or the two Mr. Dales."

"There is no reason, except his own villany," answered Honoria, thoughtfully. "There are some men capable of anything. But let us talk no further on the subject. I have confided my secret to you, Jane Payland, because I think you are faithfully devoted to my interests. You know now why I am resolved to remain at Raynham Castle; and you think my decision wise, do you not?"

"Well, yes; I certainly do, my lady," answered Jane, after some moments of hesitation.

"And now leave me. Good night! I have kept you long this evening, I see by that timepiece. But my thoughts were wandering, and I was unconscious of the progress of time. Good night!"

Jane Payland took a respectful leave of her mistress, and departed, absorbed in thought.

"Is she a good woman or a bad one?" she wondered, as she sat by the fire in her own comfortable apartment. "If she is a bad