CHAPTER XII.
IN WHICH THE WEDDING COMES OFF
The foggy day had ended in a stormy night. Black clouds had hurried wildly over the troubled face of the sky; a dull peal of thunder, booming in the distance, had been its herald. Rain, and thunder, and lightning had it all its own way until about midnight, when the sullen clouds had drifted slowly, and the moon showed her fair, sweet face in her place. A day of brightest sunshine, accompanied by a high wind, had been the result; and in its morning refulgence, Captain Cavendish was sauntering along the Redmon road. Not going to the big brick house, surely: Nathalie had told him the picnic day of Mrs. Leroy's growing dislike to visitors, and the hint had been taken. Perhaps it was only for a constitutional, or to kill time; but there he was, lounging in the teeth of the gale, and whistling an opera air as he went. The Nettleby cottage, fairly overrun with its luxuriance of sweetbrier, and climbing roses, and honeysuckle, was a pretty sight, and well worth looking at, and perhaps that was the reason Captain Cavendish stood still to admire it. The windows, all wreathed with crimson and pink roses, were open; and at one sat Cherrie, in all her beauty, like a picture in a frame. The crimson July roses about her were not brighter than her cheeks at the sight of him, and her starry eyes flashed a welcome few men would not have coveted. How prettily she was dressed, too – knowing well he would come, the gypsy! – in pink muslin; her bare neck and arms rising plump and rounded out of the gauziness; all her shining jetty curls flashing about, and sprays of rosebuds twisted through them. How the pale, blue-eyed, snowy-skinned, fair-haired prettiness of Nathalie dimmed in the young officer's ardent imagination beside this tropical, gorgeous loveliness of the sunny South. He opened the little gate, and was at the window before she arose.
"My black-eyed fairy? You look perfectly dazzling this morning. Who is in?"
"No one," said Cherrie, showing her pearl-white teeth in her deepening smile. "The boys are off fishing; father's up working in Lady Leroy's garden, and Ann's gone to town for groceries."
"Allah be praised! I may come in, then, my darling, may I not?"
Cherrie's answer was to throw the door wide open; and the young officer entered and took a seat, screened from the view of passers-by by the green gloom of the vines. That green twilight of roses and honeysuckles was just the thing for lovers to talk in; and Captain Cavendish had a great deal to say to Cherrie, and to all he said Cherrie had nothing to give but rapturous assents, and was altogether in the seventh heaven, not to say a few miles beyond that lofty elysium. It was all arranged at last as the young gentleman wished, and, lolling easily on the sofa, he went off on another tack.
"Are you often up in Redmon House, Cherrie?" he asked, stringing the black ringlets about his fingers.
Cherrie, seated on a low stool beside his couch, nestled luxuriously, with her head on his knee.
"Pretty often, George." It had come to that, you see. "Why?"
"Because – because I think you might find out something for me. I have a fancy, do you know, that the old lady doesn't over and above like me."
"I know she don't," said Cherrie, decidedly. "She can't bear you, nor Midge either. They scold Miss Natty like sixty every time you go there."
"The deuce they do? Suppose she fancied – mind, I only say fancied – I wanted to marry Miss Natty, do you suppose she would consent?"
"Consent! She'd pack Miss Natty bag and baggage out of the house, more likely. She'd die before she'd give in, would Mrs. Leroy."
Captain Cavendish fell to musing, and mused so long that Cherrie glanced up from under her black lashes, wondering what made his handsome face look so grave.
"What are you thinking about?" she pouted; "Miss Natty, I suppose."
"No, my little black-eye. I was thinking how you could do something for me."
"What is it?"
"Couldn't you listen; couldn't you manage to hear sometimes what Mrs. Leroy says to Natty, when they are talking of me?"
Miss Nettleby was not at all shocked at this proposal; but I suppose the reader is. I know very well it is disgraceful in one calling himself a gentleman, and altogether dishonorable; but Captain Cavendish's ideas of honor, and yours and mine, are rather different. Had any one called him a liar or a swindler, or thrown a decanter at his head, or a tumbler of wine in his face, at the mess-table, or elsewhere, he would have considered his honor forfeited forever, if he did not stand up to shoot and be shot at by the offending party, as soon as possible afterward. In one word, not to mince matters, Captain Cavendish, handsome and elegant as he was, was an infidel and a villain, and you may as well know it first as last.
"I dare say I can," was Cherrie's reply to his proposal. "I am up there often enough, and I know all the ins and outs of the place. I'll do what I can."
Captain Cavendish rewarded her, as lovers do reward one another, I am told, and shortly after arose to take his leave. Miss Nettleby escorted him to the gate.
"You won't forget Tuesday night, Cherrie," he said, turning to go.
"It's not very likely," said Cherrie; "but I'll see you again before that – won't I, George?"
"Of course, my darling! Take care of yourself, and good-bye."
He sauntered up the road at an easy pace; and Cherrie lingered at the gate, admiring his tall and elegant figure, and thinking, with an exultant heart beating, what a happy and lucky girl she was. Forget Tuesday night! the night that was to make her his bride. She quite laughed aloud at the thought, in the glee of her heart. He was still in sight, this Adonis of hers, and she still lingered at the gate watching him. Lingering there, she saw something not quite so pleasant as she could wish. Miss Nathalie Marsh, in a dress of blue barege, a black silk mantle, and a pretty white hat trimmed with azure ribbon, its long white plume tipped with blue, and set jauntily on her flowing sunny curls; came down the avenue from the house, opened the gate, and stepped into the road, and confronted her (Cherrie's) beloved. Cherrie saw him start eagerly forward, but could not hear what he said, and perhaps for her peace of mind it was just as well.
"My darling Nathalie! the fortunate chance I have been wishing for has come then! Are you going to town?"
Nathalie, smiling and blushing, shyly held out her hand.
"Good morning, Captain Cavendish! I – " but he interposed reproachfully.
"Captain Cavendish, from you, Nathalie; I thought you knew my name."
"Perhaps I have forgotten it," she laughed. "What are you doing up here, George," a little hesitatingly, though, and with a vivid flush, not half so glibly as Miss Nettleby had uttered it ten minutes before. "Were you going to call?"
"Hardly – remembering the hint you gave me the other day. But though I could not storm the castle of my fairy-princess, it was pleasant, at least, to reconnoiter the outside, and I hoped, too, for the lucky chance that has arrived. Am I to have the happy privilege of escorting you into town?"
Nathalie cast a half-apprehensive glance behind, but Midge was not on the watch. Had she known how dearly she was to pay for that walk – for that escort, rather – she had hardly answered with that happy, careless laugh.
"Yes, you may have that happy privilege! What did you do with yourself all day yesterday in the fog?" Cavendish thought of what he had been doing in Val's office, but he did not tell Miss Marsh. Cherrie was still standing by the cottage gate, and they were passing it now, looking like a black-eyed queen, under the arches of scarlet runners and morning-glories.
"A pretty place," said Captain Cavendish, "and that girl at the gate has a beautiful face. They tell me she has turned half the heads in Speckport."
Nathalie's fair brow contracted; not in jealousy, she never thought of that, but at the recollection of Charley. She made no answer. Her attention was attracted by a lady who was coming toward them. A young lady, nicely dressed, who stepped mincingly along, with a sweet smile on her sullen face.
"What brings Catty Clowrie up this way, I wonder?" exclaimed Nathalie, bowing as she passed, while the captain lifted his hat. "It is ever so long since I have seen her on this road before. I hope she is not going to Redmon."
But Miss Clowrie was going to Redmon. She had not started with that idea; it had never entered her head until she met the lovers; but she turned and looked after them with a smile of evil menace on her face.
"I hate her!" was her thought. "I hate her! But for her I might have had him once. Now he is that Nettleby girl's beyond hope. I wish Miss Marsh joy of her sister-in-law."
"That Nettleby girl" still stood at the gate. Miss Clowrie bestowed the light of her smile upon her in passing, still deep in thought. "They say in Speckport Lady Leroy has forbidden Captain Cavendish the house, and threatens to disinherit Natty if she keeps his company. Perhaps she does not know of this. I think I'll go up and tell her. One good turn deserves another."
Midge answered the young lady's knock, and admitted her to the presence of Lady Leroy. That mummy she found in her usual state of wrappings, and very ready for a little gossip.
"Why don't you go out more, Mrs. Leroy," insinuated Catty; "it would do you good, I am sure."
"No, it wouldn't!" snapped the old lady. "It does me harm. I hain't got over that picnic yet."
"But I should think you would find it very lonely here, with Nathalie away so much. I hear she spends most of her time in town of late."
"So she does," Lady Leroy screamed. "She will go in spite of me. If it ain't the school, it's a party or a picnic – something or other; but she's gallivanting all the time."
"I met her just now," remarked Catty, in a careless way, "with Captain Cavendish. He had been waiting for her, I think, at the gate."
"What?" shrieked Lady Leroy, "who with, or who did you say?"
"Captain Cavendish," repeated Miss Clowrie, looking surprised. "I thought you said they were engaged! At least, every one says they are."
Lady Leroy fell back, gasping, clawing the air in her struggle with her ten talon-like fingers. Catty, quite alarmed, started up to assist her. Lady Leroy grasped her by the wrist with a fierce grip.
"You're sure of this? You're sure of this?" she huskily whispered, still gasping. "You're sure she was walking with him? You're sure she is engaged to him?"
"I am sure she was walking with him," said Catty; "and every one says she is engaged to him; and what every one says must be true. It's very strange you did not know it."
Lady Leroy "grinned horribly a ghastly smile." "I do know it now! I told her not to go with him – I told her not to go with him – and this is the way she obeys me!"
She fell to clawing the air again, in a manner so very uncomfortable to look at, that Miss Clowrie arose, with some precipitation, to go.
"They say he is a fortune-hunter and very extravagant, and goes after her because she is your heiress; but I'm sure I don't know. Good morning, Mrs. Leroy. I am glad to see you looking so well."
With which the fair Miss Clowrie bowed herself out, smiling more than Midge had ever seen her before, and quite laughing, in fact, when she got out of doors.
"I think I have paid a little of my debt, Miss Natty," she thought. "I'll pay it all, my dear, I hope, before either of us die."
In the silent solitude of her lonely room, Lady Leroy had ample time to nurse her wrath before the return of her ward. It was nearly noon before that young lady reached home, her pretty face glowing with her rapid walk.
"Midge," was her first breathless question, "has Catty Clowrie been here this morning?"
Midge answered in the affirmative, and Nathalie's heart sank. All the way up-stairs she was preparing herself for a violent outburst of wrath; but, to her astonishment, Lady Leroy was quite tranquil. She glanced very hard at her, it is true, and her fingers were clawing empty air very viciously, but her voice was not loud nor angry.
"You're very late, aren't you?" she said. "What kept you?"
"I ran down to see mamma. Miss Rose told me she was not very well; but I hurried home as fast as I could. I'll make out those bills now."
"Let the bills wait awhile," said the old lady. "I have something to tell you."
This was an ominous commencement, and Nathalie looked at her in some dread.
"Who was it you walked into town with this morning?" she asked, glaring harder than ever.
Catty had told, then. All the blood in Nathalie's body seemed blazing in her face, as she answered:
"It was Captain Cavendish. I chanced to meet him near the gate, and I could not very well help his walking back to town with me."
"Didn't you promise me," said Lady Leroy, still speaking with astonishing calmness, but clawing the air fiercely with both hands, "when I forbade you going with him, that you would walk with him no more?"
"No," said Nathalie. "I said he would come here no more, and neither he shall."
"Until I am dead, I suppose," said the old woman, with a laugh that was very unpleasant to hear, "and you have all my money. Answer me one question, Natty. Are you engaged to him? Don't tell a lie."
"No," said Nathalie, proudly, "I am not in the habit of telling deliberate lies. I am!"
Lady Leroy gave a shrill gasp, her fingers working convulsively, but the spasm was over in a moment. She sat up again; and Nathalie, hurriedly and imploringly, went on:
"Dear Mrs. Leroy, don't be angry! Indeed, you misjudge Captain Cavendish; he is a good and honorable man, and respects you much. Dear Mrs. Leroy, consent to our engagement and I will be the happiest girl in the world!"
She went over and put her arms round the mummy's neck, kissing the withered face. The old woman pushed her away with another of her unpleasant laughs.
"There – there, child! do as you please. I knew you would do it anyway, only I won't have him here – mind. I won't have him here! Now, get to work at them bills. What's the matter with your mother?"
"Sick headache," said Nathalie, chilled, she scarcely knew why, by the old woman's manner. "She wanted me to stay with her this afternoon; but I told her I was afraid you could not spare me."
Mrs. Leroy mused a few moments, while Nathalie wrote, and then looked up.
"I'll spare you this afternoon, Natty, since your mother is sick. You can take the bills in with you and collect them. If you are back by nine, it will do."
Nathalie was so amazed, she dropped her pen and sat staring, quite unable to return a word of thanks, and not quite certain she was not dreaming.
"Get on, get on!" exclaimed Lady Leroy, in her customary testy tone. "You'll never have the bills done at that rate."
Nathalie finished the bills mechanically, and with a mind far otherwise absorbed. Then she went to her room, and put on her hat and mantle for another walk to Speckport; but all the time that uneasy feeling of doubt and uncertainty remained. Mrs. Leroy had acted so strangely, had been so ominously quiet and unlike herself, and had not consented. Nathalie came in dressed for town, and bent over her, until her long bright curls swept the yellow old face.
"Dear Mrs. Leroy!" she pleadingly said, "I cannot feel satisfied until you actually say you agree to this engagement. Do – do, if you love your Natty, for all my happiness depends upon it. Do say you consent, and I will never offend you again as long as I live?"
Lady Leroy glared up at her with green, and glittering, and wicked old eyes.
"If I don't consent, will you break off, Natty?"
"You know I cannot. I love him with all my heart. Oh, Mrs. Leroy! remember you were once young yourself, and don't be hard!"
Looking at that dry and withered old antediluvian, it was hard to imagine her ever young – harder still to imagine her knowing anything about the fever called love. She pushed Nathalie impatiently away.
"Get along with you, and don't bother!" was her cry. "I told you to have your way, and you ought to be satisfied. You won't give in to me, but you'd like me to give in to you – wouldn't you? Go along, and don't torment me!"
When Mrs. Leroy's cracked voice grew shrill and piercing, and her little eyes gleamed greenish flame, Nathalie knew better than to irritate her by disobedience. She turned to go, with a strange sinking of the heart.
"I will be back by nine," she said, simply, as she quitted the room.
Miss Nettleby, seated at her cottage door, under the roses and sweetbrier, industriously stitching on some gossamer article to be worn next Tuesday evening, looked up in some surprise at sight of Miss Marsh on her way to Speckport, for the second time that day.
"Going back to town, Miss Natty?" she called out, familiarly.
Miss Natty's answer was a cold and formal bow, as she passed on. Cherrie dropped her work and started up.
"I'll go to the house and have a talk with Granny Grumpy herself before she comes back. Perhaps I may find out something. I wonder what sort of humor she is in."
Lady Leroy was in uncommonly serene humor for her. Before Nathalie had been ten minutes gone, she had shouted for Midge; and that household treasure appearing, with sleeves rolled up over her elbows, and in a very soapy and steamy state, had desired her to array herself in other garments, and go right away into Speckport.
"Go into Speckport!" cried Midge, in shrill indignation. "I'll see you boiled alive first, ma'am, and that's the long and short of it. Go into town, wash-day, indeed! What do you want in town, ma'am?"
"I want Mr. Darcy – that's what I want!" vehemently replied her mistress. "I want Mr. Darcy, you ugly little imp; and if you don't go straight after him, I'll heave this at your head, I will!"
"This" was a huge black case bottle, which trifle of glass the lady of Redmon brandished in a manner that made even Midge draw back a few paces in alarm.
"I want Mr. Darcy on important business, I do!" screamed Lady Leroy. "And tell him not to let the grass grow under his feet on the way. Be off, will you?"
"Why didn't you tell Miss Natty?" sulkily said Midge.
"Because she isn't coming back till nine o'clock, that's why; and I can't wait. Well, what do you want, young woman?"
This last polite interrogation was addressed to Miss Nettleby, who stood smiling in the doorway, in all the splendor of her charms.
"I just ran up to see how you were," said Cherrie. "If you want any errand done in the town, Mrs. Leroy, I'll go. I can walk faster than Midge, you know."
"So she can," cried Midge; "let her go, ma'am; I won't."
With which Midge waddled off, making the hall quake with her airy tread. Mrs. Leroy looked with unusual graciousness at the young lady.
"Will you go, Cherrie, and be quick about it. Tell Darcy to hurry; you can drive back with him, you know."
Cherrie wanted nothing better, and was off like a dart, scenting a secret, and determined to get at the bottom of it.
"What does she want with her lawyer, I wonder?" soliloquized Cherrie, on the road. "I'll find out. Miss Natty's out of the way, and Midge will be down in the kitchen. I'll find out."
Mr. Darcy was one of the best lawyers in the town, and was Lady Leroy's man of business ever since her advent in Speckport. Cherrie found him in his office – a handsome and gentlemanly old man, with gray hair, whiskers, and mustache, and a clear, bright eye.
"What can the old lady want?" he wondered, aloud, putting on his hat; "she didn't tell you, I suppose? Will you drive back with me, Miss Cherrie?"
Miss Cherrie consented, and they had a very pleasant drive together, the old gentleman chaffing her about her beaux, and wanting to know when she was going to stop breaking hearts, and get married. Cherrie did not say "next Tuesday," she only laughed, and desired to be set down at her own gate.
There she watched the lawyer out of sight, and then went deliberately after him. Not to the front door, however, but to a back window she knew of, easily lifted, through it, up-stairs on tiptoe, and into Nathalie's room, which she locked on the inside. Nathalie's room adjoined Lady Leroy's, and the wall being thin, the conversation of the lawyer and the old woman was distinctly audible. Cherrie sat down on the floor, with her ear glued to the wall, and listened. It was a prolonged and excited talk, the lawyer angrily protesting, Mrs. Leroy angrily determined; and it ended in Mr. Darcy's yielding, but grumblingly, and still under protest. Cherrie had fairly held her breath while listening – astonishment and delight pictured on her face.
There was a long silence; Mr. Darcy was writing. In half an hour his task was completed, and he read it aloud to the mistress of Redmon. "That will do," said Lady Leroy, "I'm glad it's over."
"Do you want that paper witnessed? Call Midge."
Mr. Darcy opened the door, and shouted through the darkness for Midge, as Captain Cavendish had once done before. Midge made her appearance, as soapy and steamy as ever.
"Write your name here," said Mr. Darcy, abruptly pointing to the place.
"What is it?" inquired Midge.
"That's no affair of yours, is it? Sign it, will you?"
Midge took the pen as if it weighed half a ton or so, set her head very much on one side, thrust her tongue a little out of one corner of her mouth, and with much labor and painstaking, affixed a blotted autograph – Priscilla Short.
"That will do," said Mr. Darcy; "we want another. Call in old Nettleby – he can write."
Midge, casting a parting look, of much complacence at her performance, departed on her errand, and old Nettleby coming in shortly after, affixed another blotted signature. Mr. Darcy dispatched him about his business, folded the document, put it in his pocket-book, and took his hat and cane to go. On the threshold he paused.
"This has been done under the influence of anger, Mrs. Leroy," he said; "and you will think better of it, and send me word to destroy it before long. I consider it most unjust – exceedingly unjust – altogether unjustifiable! Good afternoon, ma'am."
Cherrie waited in her hiding-place until she heard the hall door close after him, then stole noiselessly out, down-stairs, through the window, and gained her own home, unobserved.
What had she heard? Her face was flushed, her eyes bright, her whole manner strangely excited. She could not keep still – she walked ceaselessly to and from the gate, straining her eyes in the direction of Speckport.
"Why don't he come! Why don't he come!" she kept repeating, hurriedly. "Oh, what will he say to this?"