Passenger from Calais — Chapters 15 & 16
CHAPTER XV.
It might be thought that I was too hard on my Lord Blackadder, but only those few indeed who were unacquainted with the circumstances of his divorce would find fault with me.
The scandal was quite recent, and the Blackadder case had been in everybody's mouth.
The papers had been full of it, and the proceedings were not altogether to his lordship's credit.
They had been instituted by him, however, on grounds that induced the jury to give him a verdict, and the judge had pronounced a decree nisi on the evidence as it stood.
Yet the public sympathies were generally with the respondent, the Countess of Blackadder.
It had been an unhappy marriage, an ill-assorted match, mercenary, of mere convenience, forced upon an innocent and rather weak girl by careless and callous guardians, eager to rid themselves of responsibility for the two twin sisters, Ladies Claire and Henriette Standish, orphans, and with no near relations.
Lord Blackadder was immensely rich, but a man of indifferent moral character, a _roué_ and a voluptuary, with a debilitated constitution and an unattractive person, possessing none of the gifts that take a maiden's fancy.
Estrangement soon followed the birth of the son and heir to his title and great estates.
My lord was a great deal older than his beautiful young wife, and desperately jealous of her.
Distrust grew into strong suspicion, and presently consumed him when an old flame of Lady Henriette's, Charlie Forrester, of the Dark Horse, turned up from foreign service, and their names came to be bracketed together by the senseless gossiping busybodies ever ready to tear a pretty woman's reputation to tatters.
It was so much put about, so constantly dinned into Lord Blackadder's ears, that he was goaded into a perfect fury, and was at length determined, by hook or by crook, to put away his wife, leaving it to certain astute and well-practised solicitors to manufacture a clear, solid case against her.
Lady Blackadder, who hated and despised her lord, foolishly played into his hands.
She never really went wrong, so her friends stoutly averred, especially her sister Claire, a staunch and loyal soul, but she gave a handle to innuendo, and more than once allowed appearances to go against her.
There was one very awkward story that could not be disproved as it was told, and in the upshot convicted her.
It was clearly shown in evidence that she had made up her mind to leave Lord Blackadder; more, that she meant to elope with Major Forrester.
It was said, but not so positively, that she had met him at Victoria Station; they were seen there together, had travelled by the same train, and there was a strong presumption that they had arrived together at Brighton; one or two railway officials deposed to the fact.
Lady Blackadder denied this entirely, and gave a very different complexion to the story.
She had gone to Brighton; yes, but quite alone.
Major Forrester had seen her off, no doubt, but they had parted at the carriage door.
Her visit to Brighton had been for the purpose of seeing and staying with an old servant, once a very confidential maid for whom she had a great liking, and had often taken refuge with when worried and in trouble.
She thought, perhaps, to make this the first stage in the rupture with my lord.
This maid had earnestly adjured her not to break with her husband, and to return to Grosvenor Square.
This flight was the head and corner-stone of Lady Blackadder's offending.
It was interpreted into guilt of the most heinous kind; the evidence in support of it seemed overwhelming.
Witnesses swore positively to the companionship of Major Forrester, both at Victoria and Brighton, and it was to be fairly assumed that they were at the latter place together.
No rebutting evidence was forthcoming.
The maid, a woman married to an ex-French or Swiss courier, by name Bruel, could not be produced, simply because she could not be found in Brighton.
They were supposed to be settled there as lodging-house keepers, but they had not resided long enough to be in the Directory, and their address was not known.
Lord Blackadder's case was that they were pure myths, they had never had any tangible existence, but were only imported into the case to support an ingenious but untenable defence.
It was more than hinted that they had been spirited away, and they were not the first material witnesses, it was hinted, in an intricate case, conducted by Messrs. Gadecker and Gobye, who had mysteriously disappeared.
So the plausible, nay, completely satisfactory explanation of Lady Blackadder's visit to Brighton could not be put forward, much less established, and there was no sort of hope for her.
She lost her case in the absence of the Bruels, man and wife.
The verdict was for Lord Blackadder, and he was adjudged to have the care and custody of the child, the infant Viscount Aspdale.
I had not the smallest doubt when I realized with whom I had to do that the unhappy mother had made a desperate effort to redress her wrongs, as she thought them, and had somehow contrived to carry off her baby before she could be deprived of it.
I had met her in full flight upon the Engadine express.
What next?
Was she to be overtaken and despoiled, legally, of course, but still cruelly, separated from her own flesh and blood?
The Court might order such an unnatural proceeding, but I was moved by every chivalrous impulse to give her my unstinting and unhesitating support to counteract it.
I was full of these thoughts, and still firmly resolved to help Lady Blackadder, when l'Echelle, the conductor whose services I still retained, sought me out hurriedly, and told me that he believed the others were on the point of leaving Brieg.
"I saw Falfani and milord poring over the pages of the _Indicateur_, and heard the word Geneva dropped in a whisper.
I think they mean to take the next train along the lake shore."
"Not a doubt of it," I assented; "so will we.
They must not be allowed to go beyond our reach."
When the 6. 57 P.
M.
for Geneva was due out from Brieg, we, l'Echelle and I, appeared on the platform, and our intention to travel by it was made plain to Lord Blackadder.
The effect upon him was painfully manifest at once.
He chafed, he raged up and down, grimacing and apostrophizing Falfani; once or twice he approached me with clenched fists, and I really thought would have struck me at last.
Seeing me enter the same carriage with him, with the obvious intention of keeping him under my eye, he threw himself back among the cushions and yielded himself with the worst grace to the inevitable.
The railway journey was horribly slow, and it must have been past 11 P.
M.
before we reached Geneva.
We alighted in the Cornavin station, and as they moved at once towards the exit I followed.
I
expected them to take a carriage and drive off, and was prepared to give chase, when I found they started on foot, evidently to some destination close at hand.
It proved to be the Cornavin Hôtel, not a stone's-throw from the station.
They entered, and went straight to the bureau, where the night clerk was at his desk.
I heard them ask for a person named Tiler, and without consulting his books the clerk replied angrily: "Tiler!
Tiler!
_Ma foi_, he is of no account, your Tiler.
He has gone off from the dinner-table and without paying his bill."
"That shall be made all right," replied Lord Blackadder loftily, as he detailed his name and quality, before which the employé bowed low.
"And might I ask," his lordship went on, "whether a certain Mrs. Blair, a lady with her child and its nurse, is staying in the hotel?"
"But certainly, milord.
They have been here some days.
Salon and suite No. 17." "At any rate, that's well, Falfani," said Lord Blackadder, with a sigh of satisfaction.
"But what of your friend Tiler?
Thick-headed dolt, unable to keep awake, I suppose."
At that moment a shabbily dressed person approached Falfani, touched his hat, and offered him a note, saying: "This must be for you, monsieur.
I heard your name--" "From Tiler, my lord, aha!
This explains."
And he passed the scrap of paper on to his employer.
"I'll be hanged if I see it!
He says the parties have gone, and that he is in close attendance; yet this fellow here," pointing to the clerk, "assures us she is in this very house.
I don't understand it, by Gad!"
"There is some fresh trick, my lord, you may be sure.
The devil himself isn't half so clever as this fine lady.
But we'll get at the bottom of it.
We shall hear more from Tiler, and we've got the lady here, under our hand."
"Ah!
but have we?
This chap's as likely as not to be mistaken.
How do you know, sir," to the clerk, "that Mrs. Blair is still in the hotel?
When did you come on duty?
What if she left without your knowing it?"
"It could not be, milord.
See, it is marked in the register.
No. 17 is occupied.
I could not let it.
Mrs. Blair holds it still."
"But she may not be in it, all the same.
Can't you see?
She may retain it, but not use it."
"Look, my lord, look, there's one of her party, anyway," interposed Falfani, and he called his attention to a female figure standing a little aloof in the shadow of the staircase, and which I had already recognized.
It was Philpotts, "Mrs. Blair's" maid, and she was trying to attract my attention.
Lord Blackadder had not seen her, and now his eye, for the first time, fell upon me.
He turned on me furiously.
"You!
You!
Still at my heels?
This is perfectly monstrous.
It amounts to persecution.
You still dare to intrude yourself.
Can I have no privacy?
Take yourself off, or I will not answer for the consequences."
I confess I only laughed and still held my ground, although my lord's outcry had attracted much attention.
Several people ran up, and they might have sided against me, when I heard a voice whisper into my ear: "Come, sir, come.
Slip away.
My lady is dying to see you.
She is terribly upset."
CHAPTER XVI.
I was received with great warmth and cordiality by my friend, and it was made clear to me that my opportune appearance brought her great comfort and support.
"I never hoped for such good fortune as this," she began heartily.
"I had no idea you were within miles, and was repining bitterly that I had let you get so far out of the way.
Now you appear in the very nick of time, just when I was almost in despair.
But wait.
Can I still count upon your help?"
"Why, most certainly, Lady Blackadder."
"Lady Black--" She was looking at me very keenly, and, as I thought, was much startled and surprised.
Then with a conscious blush she went on.
"Of course, I might have guessed you would penetrate my disguise, but you must not call me Lady Blackadder.
I can lay no claim to the title."
"May I be forgiven if I trench on such a delicate subject, and assure you of my most sincere sympathy?
Everybody felt for you deeply.
I
hope you will believe that I am, and ever shall be, at your orders and devoted to your service."
"Yes, yes, I am sure of it; I know I can depend upon you fully, and I mean to do so now at once.
You know, you have heard, that Lord Blackadder is here, and actually in this hotel?"
"I came with him.
I was watching that fellow, the detective Falfani, when his lordship came upon the scene.
We had words, a quarrel, almost a fight."
"Pfu!
He would not fight!
I only wish you had thrashed him as he deserves.
But that won't help matters now.
How am I to escape him?"
"With the child?"
"To be sure.
Of course, I do not fear him in the least for myself."
"You want to keep the child?"
"Naturally, as I carried it off."
"And still more because you had the best right to it, whatever the Court might direct.
You are its mother."
Again she blushed and smiled, rather comically.
"I certainly shall not surrender it to Lord Blackadder, not without a struggle.
Yet he is very near getting it now."
"In there?"
I nodded towards the next room.
"It is a close thing.
How are you to manage it?"
"There would not have been the slightest difficulty; it was all but done, and then some one, something, failed me.
I expected too much perhaps, but I have been bitterly disappointed, and the danger has revived."
"Come, come, Lady Blackadder, keep up your courage.
Let us take counsel together.
We can surely devise some fresh plan.
Don't give way now; you have been so plucky all through.
Be brave still."
"Thank you, Colonel Annesley, I will."
She put out her hand with enchanting frankness, her fine eyes shining gratefully.
A man would have dared much, endured much, to win such gracious approval.
"It is getting late, but you must hear all I have to tell before we can decide upon the next step.
Will you listen to me?
I shall not bore you.
It is a long story.
First let me clear the ground a little.
I
must disabuse your mind on one point.
I am not Lady Blackadder--no, no, do not misunderstand me--not on account of the divorce, but I never was Lady Blackadder.
She was Henriette Standish.
I am Claire, her sister Claire."
"What a fool I've been!"
I cried.
"I might have guessed."
"How should you?
But let me go on.
I shall never forget that detestable trial, those awful days in the Divorce Court, when the lawyers fought and wrangled over my darling sister, like dogs over a bone, tearing and snarling at each other, while the judge sat above like a solemn old owl, never moving or making a sign.
"Henriette positively refused to appear in the case, although she was pressed and entreated by her legal advisers.
She could have thrown so much light on the worst and darkest part.
She could have repudiated the cowardly charges made, and cast back the lies drawn round her to ruin her.
If the jury had but seen her pretty, pathetic face, and heard from her own sweet lips all she had endured, they would have come to a very different verdict.
"But she would not come forward on her own behalf.
She would not defend the action; she did not want to win it, but waited till it was all over, hiding herself away in a far-off corner of the Apennines, where I was to join her with the child, little Ralph.
"There had been no question of that; the possibility of her losing it had never been raised, or she would have nerved herself to fight sooner than give up what she valued more than her very life.
"It fell upon me with crushing effect, although towards the end of the trial I had had my forebodings.
Lord Blackadder was to have the custody of his heir, and my dear sweet Henriette was to be robbed for ever of her chiefest joy and treasure.
The infant child was to be abandoned to strangers, paid by its unnatural and unfeeling father.
"I had braced myself to listen to all that came out in court, a whole tissue of lies told by perjured wretches whose evidence was accepted as gospel--one of them was the same Falfani whom you know, and who had acted the loathsome part of spy on several occasions.
"Directly the judge had issued his cruel fiat, I slipped out, hurried down-stairs into the Strand, jumped into a hansom, and was driven at top speed to Hamilton Terrace, bent upon giving instant effect to a scheme I had long since devised.
"I found my faithful Philpotts awaiting me with everything prepared as I had arranged.
The dear baby was dressed quickly--he was as good as gold--the baggage, enough for my hurried journey to Fuentellato, had been packed for days past, and we took the road.
"I knew that pursuit would not tarry, but I was satisfied that I had made a good start, and I hoped to make my way through to Italy without interference.
When I first saw you at Calais I was seized with a terrible fear, which was soon allayed; you did not look much like a detective, and you were already my good friend when the real ruffian, Falfani, came on board the train at Amiens."
[_Lady Claire Standish passed on next to describe her journey from Basle to Lausanne, and the clever way in which she eluded the second detective--matters on which the reader has been already informed.
_] "On reaching Geneva I at once opened communications with Henriette.
I
felt satisfied, now that I had come so far, it would be well that she should join me, and that we should concert together as to our next proceedings.
Our first and principal aim was to retain the child at all costs and against all comers.
I had no precise knowledge as to where we should be beyond the jurisdiction of the English law, but I could not believe that the Divorce Court and its emissaries could interfere with us in a remote Italian village.
My real fear was of Lord Blackadder.
He was so bold and unscrupulous that, if the law would not help him, he would try stratagem, or even force.
We should be really safe nowhere if we once came within his reach, and, the best plan to keep out of his clutches was to hide our whereabouts from him.
"Fuentellato would not do, for although I do not believe he knew the exact spot in which Henriette had taken refuge, he must have guessed something from the direction of my journey, and that I was on my way to join her.
If he failed to intercept me _en route_, he would make his way straight there.
I had resolved he should not find us, but where else should we go?
Farther afield, if necessary to the very end of the world.
Lord Blackadder, we might be sure, would hunt high and low to recover his lost heir, sparing no expense, neglecting no means.
"It was, however, essential to elude his agents, who were so near at hand and likely to press me close.
That was another reason for drawing my sister to me.
I had hit upon a cunning device, as I thought it, to confuse and deceive my pursuers, to throw them on to a false scent, lead them to follow a red herring, while the fox, free of the hunt, took another line."
