An Introduction To The Eternal Collection Jubilee Edition (146 page)

Lord Milborne turned the button over in his hand then he raised his quizzing-glass.

“A monogram!” he said quietly, and Caroline bending forward saw that the button was in gold with a pattern of diamonds set in the centre of it.

There was a hush in the hall. Then Lord Milborne said clearly,

“I read this as the entwined initials “G.W.” Have you anything to say, Mr. Warlingham?”

Gervase Warlingham’s face whitened, and he licked his lips but even as he was about to speak, there was a sound of the front door being opened by one of the footmen and a man came clumping into the hall. Everyone turned and Caroline saw that it was Jason Faken.

He was looking more disreputable and unpleasant than usual, and as he came into view, Caroline saw that he was dragging by the arm a middle-aged woman whose face for the moment seemed vaguely familiar. She was dressed in neat, clean garments with a shawl round her shoulders and a black bonnet on her head. Her hands were trembling and her eyes seemed wild with fear.

Jason Faken brought her into the hall and then, letting loose her arm, he walked straight to where Mr. Warlingham was standing. He went very close to him and said something in a low voice which was not audible, but Mr. Warlingham’s reply was clear to all.

“Why the devil didn’t you find it out sooner, you curst fool?” he asked furiously. Then looking across at Lord Milborne, he said with a sneer on his lips, “If there is to be a trial, my lord, which I gather from your lordship’s attitude seems likely, then I demand to be tried by - my peers.”

15

For a moment there was only an astonished silence, and then Lord Milborne asked quietly,

“Will you give a reason for your request, sir?”

Mr. Warlingham drew himself up.

“My reason, my lord, is that I am in truth the rightful Lord Brecon. The man, who has hitherto styled himself as such, who has lived here in this Castle and made himself master of the estate, is, as I have proof, nothing more or less than an imposter!”

Caroline gave a little inarticulate sound and would have spoken had not Lord Milborne glanced in her direction, and she knew that he wished her to remain silent.

“Have you your proof here, Mr. Warlingham?” Lord Milborne asked slowly and calmly seeming by his unsurprised dignity to deprive the situation of much of its dramatic quality.

In answer Gervase Warlingham nodded to Jason Faken. The hunchback crossed the hall and, seizing the arm of the woman in the black bonnet, he dragged her forward.

“This woman can supply the proof, m’lord,” he said in a loud, harsh voice.

“One minute’’ Lord Milborne said. “What is your name?”

“Jason Faken.”

“And your profession?”

The hunchback seemed to hesitate, then sullenly he replied,

“Lawyer.”

“In practice?”

Again there was a moment’s pause before the reply,

“Formerly in the employment of Rosenberg, Sparrow and Cohen.”

Caroline gave a little gasp. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. Now she could see very clearly where Gervase Warlingham had obtained the information that Sir Montagu was blackmailing his cousin. It was Jason Faken who had been the link between Melissa’s indiscretion and the murder by the ruined cottage. And Gervase Warlingham, supplied with the knowledge by a dismissed servant of the farm, had acted without Rosenberg or Sir Montagu having any idea that he was concerned in their affairs.

It had been just one more weapon to assist him in his plot for ridding himself of his cousin. Caroline thought that somehow Gervase Warlingham must have learnt how the late Lord Brecon had died, and he believed that, if Vane could be accused of murder, it would be comparatively easy to prove that his criminal tendencies were hereditary. Yet this assertion that Vane was an imposter was obviously something new.

Suddenly Caroline remembered Mr. Warlingham coming into the hall when Vane was showing her the pictures of his ancestors. He had observed then that Vane, being blond, was unlike the majority of his forbears. Dorcas with surprising presumption had joined in the conversation! Had she unwittingly given Gervase Warlingham a clue to some strange secret of which even Vane was ignorant? Caroline felt her heart begin to throb with an almost overwhelming excitement.

“Very well, Mr. Faken,” Lord Milborne said, “you may now continue.”

“I have here beside me,” the hunchback said, “Mrs. Jenks, who will give your lordship irrefutable proof of my client’s statement that he is indeed the rightful and lawful Lord Brecon.”

He gave the woman’s arm a shake as he spoke. She gave a little whimper of fear, at which he turned to her and put his ugly, evil face near to hers.

“Speak up! Tell his lordship what you know.”

The woman began to sob. Jason Faken shook her arm again then suddenly there was an interruption.

“Stop!” a voice said.

Everyone turned and looked towards the top of the stairs whence the voice had come and Caroline saw that Dorcas stood there, her gaunt face almost awe-inspiring in its severity and anger The woman in the black bonnet covered her face with her hands. Dorcas came swiftly down the stairs and, crossing the hall, stood beside her.

“Martha Jenks!” she said furiously. “Have you taken leave of your senses? Do you dare to break your most solemn oath to speak on things that you have vowed should never cross your lips?”

The woman gave a loud sob and taking her hands from her face clasped them together.

“‘Tis no use, Dorcas,” she wailed. “I had to come – they made me. They caught my Tom with – a hare in his hand and a net in his pocket. ‘Tis transportation for him – unless I does as the gentleman commands.”

“Then let him be transported,” Dorcas said, and there was a world of scorn in her voice. “Better that than that my own sister should turn traitor.”

Mr. Jenks wrung her hands together.

“Tis all very well for you to talk, Dorcas – but Tom is my son – ‘tis more than flesh and blood could stand – to see him sent away – for what was naught but a boyish prank.”

Dorcas would have spoken again, but Lord Milborne interrupted.

“Silence for a moment,” he said clearly, looking at Dorcas. “What is your name?”

Caroline thought that Dorcas would not answer, for in her anger she seemed oblivious of everything, save her sister who was sobbing now almost uncontrollably. But the habit of a lifetime in service asserted itself. She curtsied as she answered.

“I’m known as Dorcas, m’lord, and I’m personal maid to the Dowager Lady Brecon.”

“It is obvious, Dorcas,” Lord Milborne said, “that you know things that have been kept secret for some time, but which now must be revealed. We are concerned at the moment with the saving or destroying of two men’s lives. One is his lordship, Lord Brecon, and the other is his cousin, Mr. Gervase Warlingham. Furthermore, apart from a charge of murder which will be laid against one of these gentlemen, Mr. Warlingham asserts that he is the rightful owner of the title, of this Castle and its estates. His proof, so he says, rests with this woman whom you have called your sister. But it appears to me that she is in no fit state to tell her story clearly. Would it not be better, as obviously you know it full well, for you to relate what you know, Dorcas? It is too late now to hide anything, for all is bound to be revealed sooner or later.”

Dorcas stared at Lord Milborne all the time he was speaking, yet the expression on her face was difficult to read. Only when he had finished did she turn once again to her sister standing beside her and ask in a low voice,

“How much have you told, Martha?”

“Ev – everything,” came the answer and now the woman in her agony seemed about to collapse on to the floor, so that both Dorcas and Jason Faken put out their hands to support her.

“Take her to a chair,” Lord Milborne commanded and when they had done so, the woman bent her head almost to her knees and continued to cry, but quietly.

“Now, Dorcas,” Lord Milborne said.

“Yes, let us hear the unvarnished truth,” Mr. Walsingham sneered.

Dorcas looked across the hall at him.

“I’ll tell the truth, sir,” she said, and her tone was ominous, “but poor comfort will it bring you now.”

She turned to Lord Milborne.

“In speaking, m’lord, I must reveal not my own secrets but those of my mistress. Is that in order?”

“I am afraid so, Dorcas,” Lord Milborne replied, “for I take it these secrets concern your mistress’s son.”

“Yes, m’lord.”

“Then speak.”

Dorcas’ voice was steady, but Caroline saw that the knuckles of her fingers linked together over her apron were white.

“I have been personal maid to my mistress,” Dorcas began, “since she was a girl. Her home was in the North and in those early days my own home was not far distant. My father was a fisherman. Soon after my mistress grew up, she was indisposed after the severity of the north country winter and it was suggested by the family physician that she should travel south. After some discussion it was decided that she should visit my parents who had recently moved to a small fishing village near Plymouth.

“We journeyed there, my mistress and I, and after a few weeks in the milder air, there was a vast improvement in her health. She began to enjoy herself and used to go sailing with my father and take walks over the countryside. It was in such a way that she became acquainted with a gentleman –”

“May we know his name?” Lord Milborne interrupted.

“It was Royde,” Dorcas answered. “Mr. Royde. My mistress saw him every day and in a short while she confessed to me that she was in love. I was sore afraid at the news for my mistress’s father, Colonel Stewart, a widower, was a hard man and proud. I was sure he would not under any circumstances consider a suitor whom his daughter had met in an unconventional manner. Besides, I knew full well that Mr. Royde was by no means wealthy for all that he was a fine, well-bred gentleman and in other circumstances might have made my mistress very happy.

“I begged my mistress there and then to return to Yorkshire. She refused, and a few days later they came to me, bright faced with happiness, to say that they were wed. I cried out in horror, but they told me not to distress myself. “We will now go together and tell my father,” my mistress said. “I would have been afraid alone, but with my husband beside me I fear naught.” It was arranged that we should travel north a week later, and the day before we were due to start Mr. Royde my master - for that was how I thought on him - went into Plymouth to make arrangements for the journey and to draw some money from his bank.

“But the hours passed and he did not return. By nightfall my mistress was frantic with anxiety and we sat up together watching for him with fear and trepidation. In the morning when there was still no sign of him she was distraught but at last we received news from a ragged boy who related that Mr. Royde had been hurried on board His Majesty’s ship
Triumph
which had sailed on the tide that very morning.

“My mistress fell swooning to the floor at the news and I thought she was about to die, but there was worse to follow. A week later we learned that the
Triumph
had been engaged by French men-o’-war in the Channel. The odds against her were overwhelming and only the intervention of other British ships at the last moment had saved her from being captured. As it was, she returned to port with but a handful of her crew who were not dead or wounded, and we learned that among those who had been killed was Mr. Royde.

“For some weeks I thought it would be impossible to save my mistress’s life, but finally she recovered a little in health, though her spirits were sadly low. By this time it was imperative that we should return to Yorkshire. Colonel Stewart wrote demanding his daughter’s presence and I was hard put to explain what could be delaying her.

“We went back, but it did not appear as if the change of air had done my mistress much good. She was in no state to tell her father that she had been married, indeed for that matter she would speak of her husband to no one, not even to me. The mere mention of his name brought on such a fit of weeping that was unwise to upset her.

She took up her life at home listlessly, then a month or so after we had returned we knew for certain what I personally had always feared in my heart - my mistress was with child. She was in an agony of terror lest her father should learn of it. Her fear was not without foundation, for Colonel Stewart would never have forgiven her for having married without his approval, and to learn that there was to be a child of the marriage might have driven him to inflict harsh and cruel punishments upon my poor mistress.

“We kept it a secret until we became afraid that her condition must be noticed. It was then my mistress suggested to her father that, as the winter was coming on, it might be wise to spend the worst months of it in the south. By great good fortune Colonel Stewart wished to pay some visits himself in Scotland and he agreed to his daughter returning to my parents. Accordingly we fled back to Plymouth. My mistress’s child was born there. It was a boy and he was christened Vane, which had been Mr. Royde’s second name.”

Dorcas’ voice ceased for a moment. No one spoke. Everyone was listening to her intently, including Lord Milborne, who was leaning forward in his chair, his chin resting on his hand.

“Our anxiety now,” Dorcas continued, “was to find someone to care for the child. He was a bonny babe, my mistress adored him and would not hear of him being taken to a Foundling Hospital. My parents were old and ailing, otherwise they would have obliged her, for they had grown to love my mistress, as did all who knew her well. It was then I thought of my sister, Martha, who had married a farmer called Jenks and lived at Cuckhurst. I made the journey to see her, she agreed to foster the child and I returned to Plymouth for my mistress. We came back to Cuckhurst where we handed the babe over to my sister and my mistress and I stayed at the inn.

“It had been our intention to rest there but a night or two and then return to Yorkshire but when it came to leaving her son, my mistress could not tear herself away. She loved the babe with a passion which was all the greater because she saw in him the last link with the man she had loved so deeply and unforgettably. Every day I suggested that we should be on our way and every day she put me off with excuses, spending all her time at the farm with Master Vane, nursing him, loving him, and breaking her heart because she must leave him behind and return to her home in the north.