The Five-Minute Marriage (23 page)

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And, holding the vinaigrette somewhat at arm

s length, she passed out of the door and climbed up the stairs toward the first floor, calling softly,


Cousin Gareth? Are you at home?

 

11

Gareth

s part of the house seemed to be empty. But Delphie encountered three of the children (Percy, the responsible Helen, and the stout Gawaine) at the foot of the top flight of stairs, and they shyly asked if she would be good enough to step up and pass a few moments with their mother, who was lonely for company.


For company? With all of you?

asked Delphie, amused.


Ah, but that

s not the same as grown-up company,

said Percy wisely. He was a small dark replica of his uncle Gareth, and Delphie

s heart warmed to him.

Today Una was not even trying to pursue any occupation, but was lying quite flat and looking very dejected.


Are you in pain?

Delphie asked compassionately.

Did the noise we made downstairs disturb you?


Yes—no—I don

t know! It comes and goes. Some days I am better—I can get up and go out. But I have the wretchedest feeling of
affliction
at all times! I feel so mortified when I think of you—healthy—active—doing all the things that you do—the children say that already you have moved your furniture into the house, and that your rooms downstairs look as if you had always lived there.


I can claim no great merit for that—I had the carters and Mrs. Andrews to help,

Delphie said with a curiously uneasy feeling, as if Una

s persistent envious harping on her strength, health, and talents might presently cast an evil spell which would suddenly deprive her of these gifts of fortune. But she tried to dismiss such a superstitious notion, and said, smiling,


I am very sorry if thinking about
me
makes you worse! What can I do to atone? Shall I read to you?

She glanced with envy at some new books and periodicals which lay in a shuffle, as if irritably
p
ushed aside by the invalid.


No—no—thank you! Just talk! Tell me what you have been doing?

Delphie had not the least intention of telling Una about the interview with the other Miss Carteret. She therefore described the removal, and her farewell to the Baggott sisters, and her ride down from Soho on the movers

cart, at which Una shut her eyes as if in pained deprecation of such behavior, but the boys clapped their hands.


Uncle Gareth would laugh at that,

said Percy.

Una

s eyes opened again.

Oh, are you children still there? I wish you will go away—this room is not big enough for so many people. In about half an hour from now you can bring me some tea and bread-and-butter—cut nice and thin, mind!


Very well, Mama.

They went out obediently, and Delphie wondered how it could be that two such limp, ineffectual people as Thomas Palgrave and Una could have produced ten such cheerful, obliging, and capable children.

When they had gone—


Is Gareth in the house?

Una asked, reopening her eyes, which she had closed while the footsteps pattered away.


No; I think not,

Delphie replied.


Is it true—this extraordinary tale he tells me that you and he are
married
?”
Una demanded.


Yes—in a way; but it was all a mistake,

Delphie said apologetically.

It makes me very uncomfortable, I can tell you. To be married by accident to a complete stranger is so ridiculous! I wish it mig
h
t be dissolved immediately, but—but Gareth seems to think it will be wiser to wait.

But, she thought, how
long
shall we have to wait? One can hardly wish for Great-uncle Mark to die; but supposing he should live on for years and
years.
And then it occurred to Delphie—for the first time—that perhaps it had not been a very wise act to come and set up house in the same building as Gareth; might that, perhaps, make the marriage less easy to set aside?

But I have Mamma as a chaperone, she thought; after all, our living quarters are quite separate. I must not stay up here too long; I must go down again in a moment and see how Mamma does.
Could
they really have meant to
poison
her?


You know that in reality Gareth is very well suited by this marriage?

suddenly pronounced his sister, opening her eyes very wide and giving Delphie a surprisingly sharp look.


Indeed?

said Delphie with caution.

What makes you say that?

Her hand found the sinister little vinaigrette, which she had tucked into her pocket. Hastily she let go of it again.


Oh, Gareth hates all women. He has quite set his face against marriage. He swore some oath about it, I believe. He—he despises the female sex. And in particular he always thought Cousin Elaine the most odious self-willed creature, so it must give him great pleasure to have you as a defense against
her
. So as long as he has this mock marriage to you—he is quite safe! You do not love each other—and yet he is under no compulsion to marry anyone else. I should not wonder but that he would be quite content for the arrangement to stand forever.


Oh? Do you think so?

Delphie added firmly, suppressing the somewhat hollow sensation Una

s words had given her.

I do not at all think that would suit
me
.”


You will be lucky if you can persuade him to see that! Gareth has the most amazing knack of having his own way.


But might he not, in the end, wish for an heir? I believe it is a thing that men do wish for?


Gareth will not,

Una replied carelessly.

There are
my
children, after all. He can leave his money to them.

If he has any left after bringing them all up—and supporting
you
, Delphie thought.


Why does Gareth hate women so?

she asked. Not that she expected to believe what Una told her, but she could not help asking.


Oh—he was jilted long ago,

said Una impatiently.

He was affianced to a girl once—Uncle Mark did not know about it, fortunately, or there would have been terrible trouble—her name was Lady Laura Trevelyan—but then when she discovered that he would have less money than she expected—she cast him off and married Teasdale, a much older man with more money. Such a common tale! It happens all the time. And Gareth, like the burnt child, dreads that it will happen again. He has grown so hard and unfeeling! He cannot believe in a marriage like mine—in a union of two souls that love one another, that cling together, despite poverty, despite separation, despite hardship and misfortune! I fear that Gareth is hard through and through—hard, and cold, and materialistic. I am persuaded, Cousin Delphie, that if
you
do not make a push to have your marriage dissolved,
he
never will! Unless, of course,

Una added reflectively,

he should come across Lady Laura again. I believe her husband was very sickly—not expected to live long; perhaps he may have died already. Gareth is so uncommunicative about his own affairs!


Indeed?

said Delphie politely. She was beginning to conceive a strong dislike for Gareth

s sister.

Now, if you will excuse me, Mrs. Palgrave, I believe I should go down again and see how my mother does; she was not feeling quite the thing when we came in.


Oh?

said Una, disappointed.

I was in hopes that you would sing to me. Gareth says that you have a very pretty voice.


Some other time,

Delphie said, and made her escape. Her thoughts flew back to the house in Brook Street. What, she wondered, was the relationship between Miss Carteret and her maid? It had seemed a very strange one—the maid appeared to have dominion over the mistress. And yet not wholly—

As she was descending the stairs to the main hall of the house, the door opened from the street, and two men came in: Gareth, and Mr. Fitzjohn. They appeared to be engaged in a heated argument.


I am beginning to feel certain that Elaine is the imposter,

Gareth was saying.

Why, you have only to see this girl

s mother—


What is that to the purpose? I never heard such a crackbrained scheme!

Fitzjohn burst out. His pale, freckled face wore a harassed frown, his hands were trembling; Delphie had not imagined that he could look so discomposed.

It will not answer, Gar, it really will not! W
h
at can have led you into such a piece of folly?

Then both men looked up and saw Delphie coming down.


Ah, Miss Carteret—

said Fitzjohn.

I am just saying to my cousin that I cannot approve of your coming to live in this house.


Stuff!

said Gareth, walking upstairs.

It was the only possible answer. Nothing will happen, unless Elaine cries rope on us. You go and see her, Mordred—she will listen to you—persuade her that she will only cut off her own expectations if she does so.

Mr. Fitzjohn heaved an impatient sigh, and stood nibbling his thumb. He said to Delphie,


That is always the way with Gareth! To suggest something to him—to give him any advice—is the way to make him straightway go and do the exact opposite.


Best advise him in the contrary direction,

Delphie said, smiling. Mr. Fitzjohn gave her such a sharp look that she wondered if this was, in fact, his habit.

Oh, well—if
we
are in the basket, cousin, may I hope that
you
at least are secure!

—a remark which also seemed to startle him. She added, since he was returning to the street, where his curricle waited—evidently he had driven Gareth back from somewhere—

Are your horses recovered from whatever it was that afflicted them, Mr. Fitzjohn? I see that you are driving a different pair today.


Yes—no—the others are still in rather poor trim,

he replied.

Was that not a strange mischance? And most wretchedly uncomfortable for you, I fear. I would not have had it happen for worlds! I am glad to see you none the worse for your toss. My groom thinks that perhaps some moldy ergot must have found its way into their feed—it has a very poisonous effect.


Does it indeed? Then I hope for your sake that your groom will be more careful in future—or that you will change your feed merchant.


Thank you. Good-by—er—ma

am,

he said, and left.

Delphie went to look at her mother, who had slipped into a peaceful doze.

About ten minutes later, Gareth came down the stairs again.


Do I disturb you?

he inquired, tapping lightly on the open door of the parlor, where Delphie was arranging books on shelves.

I will not make a practice of interrupting you, I promise—but I wondered if you had found all as it should be—if Bardwell had helped you. How pleasant you have made it look
.”


Thanks to your kind loan of chairs and tables! Otherwise it would have been bare indeed. We are not used to such large rooms. Yes, Bardwell has already offered his help. We are most snugly established here, and, I believe, will be very comfortable. But—Cousin Gareth—there is a matter on which I wish your advice—quite a serious one.


What is the trouble?

he asked as she came to a stop, suddenly feeling all the difficulty of putting what she had to tell him in such a way that it would not sound like a hysterical fancy.


Would you be so obliging as to walk through into the garden for a moment?

she said, and led the way along a drugget-lined passage to the glass-paned door which led out into the pleasant little courtyard—it was hardly more—where wallflowers were shedding their scent and apple buds were just beginning to show pink on the boughs of two small trees. A gate led out from the back to the unused coach house, and the stable where the donkey was housed.


I wish you to look at these birds
,”
Delphie said, and showed him the five dead sparrows lying around the nibbled biscuit. He stared at them in bewilderment; Delphie wondered if he thought she had suddenly run mad.

Then she led him indoors again, and, producing the vinaigrette, said,


Cousin, I fear you will think this is a piece of vaporish nonsense, but—I believe that Elaine Carteret tried to poison my mother this afternoon.


What?

She told, slowly and with care, the story of their visit to the house in Brook Street. Gareth listened, stone-faced. When she mentioned the vinaigrette he stretched out a hand, saying,

Give that to me.

She passed it to him and he took the cap off and made as if to sniff it.


Don

t
!”
said Delphie, involuntarily.


Perhaps you are right. Wait a minute—

he said.

I am nursing a patient of Lionel

s—poor little creature—I fear it will not survive in any case—

He left the room and came back in a moment with a small box covered by a cloth. The cloth when lifted off revealed a white mouse, which lay on a truss of hay, with closed eyes and heaving sides, looking (Delphie thought) weak, frail, and remarkably like Una Palgrave.


We will make an experiment
,”
said Gareth grimly; he held the vinaigrette to the tip of the mouse

s pointed nose. The result was instantaneous—the mouse jerked once; its tiny claws curled up tightly; and it was dead.


I will need to buy Lionel another mouse,

remarked Gareth. His tone was expressionless.

Delphie said,

Of course, what kills a mouse—or a sparrow

need
not hurt a human being—

Her voice trailed off, as she looked at the dead animal. Gareth was silent. She went on,

Then there were the horses, you see, too—bolting like that. Poisoned by ergot, Mr. Fitzjohn said. Was that not strange? Of course there need be no connection. But it is singular.


You are singular,

Gareth said.

Three narrow escapes from death—and you take them with astounding calm.


But what is to be done?


I will need to reflect,

he said.

Mordred is already on his way to warn Elaine—perhaps that will be sufficient. She is a self-willed, headstrong girl—but I believe she minds him.


You do not think she should be brought to book for what she has done—attempted to do?

He said impatiently,

How can we do that without disclosing the whole? Excuse me—I will need to think about this.

And, leaving her, he began to mount the stairs.


Shall I tell you what I think?

said Delphie.


Yes—what?

He paused, turning his head, but looked as if he would rather
not
hear her thoughts.


I think we should relate the whole history to Great-uncle Mark—make a round tale of it—and leave off all this prevarication.


Oh, you do, do you? Well, let
me
tell
you
, my dear cousin, that you do not know your great-uncle so well as I do! The effect of that would probably be to lay him in paroxysms on the floor

next he would send for his lawyer—and then he would strike
all
his descendants out of his will, and leave his entire fortune to the upkeep of the Chase Kennels.


Do you really believe that?

she said in a quenched tone.


I know it.


Oh. Is your sister Una a beneficiary under his will?


At present she is; yes,

he replied.

And now, if you will excuse me, Cousin Delphie, I am about to be late for an appointment in the City.


Just one thing—

said Delphie. He turned again, and now there was real exasperation in his expression.


What now?


When Uncle Mark comes to dinner tomorrow—do you wish to entertain him upstairs, or down here? And shall I tell our Mrs. Andrews to prepare the meal?

Evidently Gareth had not yet applied himself to consideration of these domestic problems. Hi
s
brows drew together.


Bardwell can very well prepare a meal—or, no, let it be sent in from a chophouse—I do not wish
you
to be troubled in the matter.


Are you out of your mind?

exclaimed Delphie, scandalized.

Chophouse meals are abominable—and abominably expensive, too! Uncle Mark would be disgusted. I am sure we can contrive to do better than that, if I may have Bardwell

s assistance, and if you will tell me Lord Bollington

s preferences.


Oh—

Gareth said hastily.

I fancy he likes any kind of game

detests ragouts—does not care for creams or jellies—beyond that I fear I can tell you nothing.


Then I must do my best with that.

Delphie walked back into her parlor and shut the door. Suddenly she felt extremely tired, and began, very much, to wish herself back in Greek Street.

It was not late, but she had been up so early, and the day had been so full of incident, that she decided to take herself off to bed. Mrs. Andrews, equally fatigued, had long ago retired. Mrs. Carteret was likewise asleep. But when Delphie went in for a last look at her mother, she found the poor lady very restless and distressed, stirring and sighing, and crying out in her sleep,

Oh! Take care of the baby! Oh! Pray don

t drop it, nurse!

Delphie laid a hand over that of her mother, which seemed to soothe her, but as soon as the hand was withdrawn she began to cry and toss about once more. Evidently the occurrences of the day had troubled some deeply buried memory; and Delphie once again blamed herself bitterly for permitting the visit to Elaine Carteret. She had hoped for something from it—she hardly knew what—some recognition, some confrontation, which had not occurred. Instead the visit had proved harassing, useless, and dangerous.

Mrs. Carteret

s bed was too narrow for more than one occupant, so Delphie quietly made herself up a kind of pallet on the floor beside her mother, where she could be at hand to soothe and comfort when it was necessary; and it proved necessary many times during the hours before midnight. But presently Mrs. Carteret

s sleep appeared to become deeper and less troubled by anxious dreams; Delphie herself was therefore enabled to doze off for longer periods.

During one of these she was suddenly awakened by something

she knew not what: a soft, sharp sound, that had her instantly wide awake and fixedly listening. Her mother now slept peacefully, drawing long, regular, steady breaths; it was not any motion or sound from the bed that had woken Delphie.

It came from a
corner
of the room, where the little writing desk stood which Gareth had lent them. The sound was not the creak of its lid, but the rustle of papers.

Delphie, lying on the farther side of her mother

s bed from the window, was in deep shadow, well concealed; thus she was able cautiously to raise her head and steal a glance over her mother

s sleeping form, toward the
corner
where the desk stood.

She observed that the sash of the window had been raised; and a dark figure stood by the desk, rapidly extracting its contents.

Delphie was almost paralyzed by astonishment and fright for a moment. Then, struck, suddenly, by the remarkable
smallness
of the figure by the desk, she rose, softly, first to her knees, then to a crouching posture: then she sprang, as fast as she could, around the end of the bed, and pounced on the figure, shouting, at the same time, very loudly indeed,


Help
!
Thieves! Help! Thieves!

The figure writhed, squirmed, and wriggled in her grasp, kicked furiously at her shins, tried to bite her wrists, and several times almost managed to pull free, but Delphie, shifting her grip on a skinny, muscular arm, was able to reproduce a hold she had once observed employed by a Bow Street runner when apprehending a thief, and pulled the intruder

s arm sharply up behind his back, eliciting a shrill cry of pain.


Lemme go! Lemme go!
I’ll
mizzle off quietly! I won

t take nothing!


No, I certainly shall not let you go!

replied Delphie, and continued to shout for help.

By this time her mother was awake, exclaiming confusedly,


Delphie? Is that you? Oh, dear, what is it
now?
Oh, my gracious me! What in the world is going on?

Next, other personages began to appear: Mrs. Andrews, with a candle and formidable castellation of curlpapers under her nightcap; Bardwell, the manservant, carrying a dark lantern and a pistol; Gareth, wearing a silk dressing gown and likewise equipped.

By the brighter light, Delphie was able to distinguish her captive.


Good heaven!

she exclaimed.

It is you!

For she found that she was holding the small dirty boy who, earlier in the day, had stood watching while the Carterets

belongings were packed up for removal, and to whom she had given a picture book.


You ungrateful little brat! Was one book not enough for you?

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