Society's Queen. A novel

Front matter

SOCIETY'S QUEEN A NOVEL. BY INA LEON CASSILIS AUTHOB. OF "A LOVELESS SACBIFICE, ETC, ETC. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: F. V. WHITE & CO., 31 SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND, W.C. 188 3. [AU Rigktt reserved.] F. V. WHITE & CO.'S SELECT NOVELS. Crown Svo, cloth, y. bd. each. The following Volumes of the Series are now ready, and can be obtained of all Booksellers in Town and Country, and at all Railway Bookstalls : — MY SISTER THE ACTRESS. By Florence Marryat, Author of 'The Root of all Evil,' etc., etc. THE DEAN'S WIFE. By Mrs Eiloart, Author of ' The Love that Lived,' etc., etc. TWO MEN AND A MAID. By Harriett Jay, Author of 'The Queen of Connaught,' etc., etc. A BROKEN BLOSSOM. By Florence Marryat, Author of 'PhyUk__,! etc., etc. SWEETHEART A^D 'WIFE,. ;By Lady Constance Howard, Auth br'of ' Mollie Darling,' etc., etc.

BARBARA'S WARNING. By Mrs Houstoun, Author of ' Recommended to Mercy,' etc., etc. PHYLLIDA. By Florence Marryat, Author of ' My Sister the Actress,' etc., etc. SOME OF OUR GIRLS. By Mrs Eiloart, Author of ' The Dean's Wife,' etc., etc. ALLERTON TOWERS. By Annie Thomas (Mrs Pender Cudlip), Author of 'Denis Donne,' etc., etc. THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. By Florence Marryat, Author of ' Phyllida,' etc., etc. A PROFESSIONAL BEAUTY. By Mrs Alexander Fraser, Author of ' Guardian and Lover,' etc., etc. MILLIE DARLING. By Lady Constance Howard, Author of ' Sweetheart and Wife,' etc., etc. CONTENTS.

Chapter I. The Member For

MELTOtf PARVA. ENGARTH was in a state of excitement. It was not often that the little Cornish sea-coast village had anything more stirring than a wreck to enliven it — and that was not a pleasurable excitement ; but on this sunny June day some unusual event had led the fishermen and their wives to deck themselves in their best attire, and caused more or less •successful attempts at decoration here and there, notably at the Devereux Arms, the inn, — for there waa only one — which displayed two or three bits of gay bunting, the Union Jack floating from a flagstaff on the roof. VOL. I. A The Member for Melton Pai"va. 2 The London train had just come in, and a young man, well dressed, and carrying a small travelling-bag, alighted, and asked the porter the way to the hotel — if there was one ■ — ■ and being directed to the aforesaid Devereux Arms, he bent his steps in that direction.

Around the old-fashioned porch a group of villagers stood talking so earnestly that they hardly even noticed the stranger as he passed through their midst, and enter ing the neat little parlour, sat down some what wearily ; but before he had removed his hat, good Mrs Vosper, in her Sunday dress, with cherry ribbons in her cap, stood curtseying before him. " Good day, sir. What will you please, sir ? We have very nice fowls, sir, and some beautiful mutton, and — " " Thank you," said the young man ; " I require only a mutton-chop, and a pint of claret — if you keep it ; if not, a glass of ale will do. But what is going on here ? A marriage ? or some grandee expected ? " "Lor, sir," answered the hostess, "of course you wouldn't know, beina; a stranger here ; but you re not far from the mark in your last guess.

You've heard tell of Sir Randal Chandos-Devereux of Chandos Royal, of course, sir ? " " Well," said the young man, smiling, " I come from Canada ; but I have heard of the family. The second son had a very brilliant career at Oxford ? " " Yes, sir," agreed the landlady, brimming over with her news. " Well, sir, it's him that's just been elected for Melton Parva. He went abroad a few years ago, when he left Oxford, and as soon as he came back the townspeople asked him to stand ; and what do you think, sir ? " said Mrs Vosper, in dignantly, " the Radicals were impudent enough to set up somebody — a tradesman, as I've heard — from London, against Mr Vivian ; but, lor', he only got ten votes, though they say he bribed like anything ! " " Mr Devereux, then, did not need to bribe ? " interrogated the stranger, as the landlady paused to take breath.

" No fear, sir ! Why," and Mrs Vosper smiled, " they'd only need to look at him to vote for him ! Such a handsome man, sir, and so beautiful-spoken ; and then look what a grand family the Chandos-Devereux are, and the property they've got ! All Pengarth and miles round belongs to them ; and you know Mr Vivian has Rougemont — that's fifteen miles from here. Rougemont always goes to the second son." "I see. Is Mr Vivian, then, expected home to-day ? " " Yes, sir, that's it ; and there'll be grand doings at the Royal presently. Lady Constance Morton, that is Sir Randal's cousin, is stopping there, and there's to be a grand dress-up ball — costume ball, don't they call it ? — at least so I've heard tell — in honour of Mr Vivian being in the Parliament House." " Mr Vivian is a favourite at Pengarth, it seems," remarked the young man.

" Would be more so, sir," said the loqua cious landlady, " if we saw more of him ; but he's been here so little. He went abroad when he was a child, and then he was at Eton and College, and he never spent his vacations at home. He'd come for a few days at most ; and before this time he was abroad two years. They say, you know, sir, that Sir Randal didn't like his goings on, nor Mr Duke — Mr Marmaduke — that's his eldest brother — neither. I don't know how that may be ; but, lor', you must like him, he is that handsome, sir," added the landlady, laughing. " All the girls are in love with him — and as free with his money ! Oh ! he's got the Devereux way as well as the French, for he favours his mother's more than his father's family." " His mother, then, was French ? " " Why, yes," said good Mrs Vosper, sur prised that any one should be ignorant of that fact ; "she was Madmerzell de Rohan — a great French family — and wonderful handsome.

She died when Mr Vivian wasn't but six years old ; more's the pity." " Why ? " " Well, sir, it's well known that Mr Dukt — his mother was Lord Wrentham's daughter — couldn't bear my lady, nor Mr Vivian neither ; and though some says it's Mr Vivian's fault that he can't get on at home, I don't believe it is, and there's many thinks so too, for all he's awful proud, and passionate, too, maybe. But Mr Duke's everybody, and if he rules the roast, and don't like his brother, why it ain't in a Devereux to sit down meekly and put up with things. They always were proud and spirited ; and Mr Vivian has a spirit ! When he was a little fel low no higher than that," placing her hand about a yard above the floor," you couldn't bully him." " Is not his father fond of him ? " asked the stranger. "Well, sir, I suppose he is, after his fashion.

But Sir Randal ain't like most of the Devereux ; leastways, he's meek and mild like, and Mr Duke rules him, and he hasn't good health neither. He's seldom away from the Royal ; and though he dotes on Mr Duke, I don't think he's all that a son ought to be — Mr Duke, I mean." " Is he wild, too ? " "Lor, no, sir! He sets up to be very strict. But I don't know ; there are some tales about him. I think them that are so hard upon others are often queer folks in a sly way ; don't you think so, sir ? " " Yes," said the stranger, smiling at the shrewdness of the remark. " Mr Vivian, then, is an open rake ? " " Rake ? That's a hard word, sir. I don't believe it's true of him ; not the quarter some people say. I know this, the few times he's been here nobody could say he was anything but the perfect gentleman.

There wasn't a man or woman in Pengarth who'd need to fear him crossing their door. Whatever he may be, he ain't the sort that'll ruin honest men's homes for his own fancies, let any one say what they will of him." " You are a doughty champion, hostess," said the young man. " Well, sir, right's right ; and I believe Mr Vivian's one of them that gets least justice at home. Why, he don't bet. My husband, who knows too much about racing, says he's never run a horse. No more does Mr Duke, I think; but Mr Duke likes country sports, and that sort of thing, and I daresay that's partly why they can't pull together. Mr Vivian he don't care for them things, and I think it's a pity. Perhaps he'd come to Rougemont sometimes if he liked country ways, instead of leaving the property to be managed by his lawyer ; and then for agri- The AI ember for Melton Parva. 7 culture and all that, he don't know more than that cat there."

" Well, " remarked the stranger, " they are sufficiently unlike each other, these two brothers. Mr Vivian ought to make this generation of Devereux famous. At Oxford he was known as the man who drove the best four-in-hand, pulled the best oar, and was one of the best classical scholars in the University." " Well, maybe he's a bit wild," said the landlady, indulgently ; " most young men are. And he's got a good deal of money, sir, all his own ; and it ain't to be expected young men should be saints. There, sir, I can't understand them not liking him at home. I should just worship him if I was his mother. Perhaps you'll see him pass presently, sir ; we expect him by the five o'clock train." "Ah! I will look out for him. But I shall see him this evening, I daresay. I have letters of introduction to Sir Randal Devereux."

"Indeed, sir." The landlady's manner had throughout been respectful ; it now became deferential. " Well, sir, I mustn't keep you waiting any longer." She was hurrying away, when the stranger's voice arrested her. . •. ■■ \ " Is Mr Devereux married ? " " No, sir, he isn't." " How old is he . " "Six or seven and thirty, sir. It's odd he shouldn't marry, for he don't like Mr Vivian being his heir." " Very odd — yes," said the stranger to himself, as the landlady vanished, " very odd." He smiled a little, nodded his head meditatively, and drew out one or two letters, which he glanced at and returned to his pocket, muttering, " Rather awkward ! Per haps I shall be de trop; and yet, from all I hear, it is a case of a prophet in his own country, gilded splendour, the stalled ox, and hatred therewith.

Sir Randal, too, ought to expect me." The landlady presently re-entered with the luncheon ordered, including a pint of claret which she " highly recommended." As she was arranging the table, the stranger asked, — " Whose is that fine old turreted mansion, about three miles from here, that I caught a glimpse of from the railway ? It is built of grey stone and has a tall tower on the eastern side." " It's Temple Rest, you mean, sir — Mr Calderon's place. They're a very old family, and pretty rich, too. Mr Calderon's just come home from abroad. Queer man he is, sir. He went away nigh on ten years ago, and has hardly been near the place since. It seems shut up like. His agent managed the estate ; but he died just a month ago — and that made Mr Calderon come home, I suppose ; or maybe his daughter persuaded him."

" His daughter ? " " Yes, sir ; there's only him and her. She'll be nineteen or twenty now, and I've heard say is uncommon handsome. I saw her once as a baby, and she was a beauty — foreign-looking. You'll see her at the Royal, no doubt, sir, for they're sure to ask all the grand folks — none of the mushrooms. No, no ; they're too proud for that. Some of the papers was down on Mr Vivian's address to the electors. Here 'tis, sir, if you'd like to read it." She drew out a newspaper from a drawer, where it was evidently carefully kept, and gave it to the Canadian. He thanked her, and, when she had left the room, read the address. It was brief, a model of condensation and purity of style, revealing the man of university culture, and certainly outspoken in its political aims. The young scion of Devereux and Rohan proclaimed himself a thorough Con servative, and, instead of the vague generalities of usual election addresses, stated plainly opinions which a leading article in the same newspaper — a Liberal organ — pronounced " those of an aristocrat, who, possessing all that birth, position, education, and wealth can bestow, is evidently determined to uphold his order, and looks down from Olympian heights on the struggling mass of humanity below him."

Which piece of fine writing made the reader smile and shrug his shoulders, as he laid the paper aside. At that moment a loud cheer broke upon his ear, and, before he could reach the door, another and another. He went Out quickly to the porch, where the landlady and all her myrmidons already stood in a great state of excitement, while without, in the straggling street — if street it could be called - — was collected what, for Pengarth, was a crowd ; for, swelled by an influx from the country round about, it was really a numerous gathering, and an unmistakably enthusiastic one. The stranger had expected to see a carriage, drawn perhaps by four horses ; but, instead, he beheld riding up the centre of the street, at a quick walking pace, a horseman attended only by a groom, while by his side trotted a gigantic bloodhound, from which, though he took no notice of any one, some of the people shrank back in alarm.

Shading his eyes from the rays of the sun, the Canadian stepped for ward, watching the advancing rider, and, as he moved, an old woman, whose face the hood of a long and shabby brown mantle hid from view, glanced towards him, and immediately, with a start, moved hurriedly away, as though to gain a better position, but placing several people between herself and the stranger. On came the noble horse and its noble rider, the people cheering and waving caps and handkerchiefs, the rider lifting his hat every minute, and bowing with easy grace in re sponse to the plaudits of the crowd. He was close now, and the eager gaze of the Canadian rested in undisguised admiration on an unusual beauty of face and form. He had been told that Vivian Devereux was a remarkably handsome man, and the original justified the portrait.

The new member for Melton Parva was tall, slight, and admirably propor tioned, and his countenance, noteworthy for its finely-formed features, was even yet more so for a depth and force of expression apparent in even a cursory survey. But face, figure, and general appearance and manner clearly indicated the inheritance of foreign blood, and doubtless constant residence on the continent had added habit to nature. If anything took somewhat from the attractiveness of the young man's countenance, it was the excessive pride that was stamped on every feature, and a sarcastic expression so settled in the lines of the handsome mouth as to be evidently habitual. The Canadian thought he detected the lightest touch of scorn in the smile that rested on those curved lips, as though Devereux half despised the homage he acknowledged with so gracious a courtesy ; but, if so, the scorn was too fine for the eyes of peasants and fishermen ; and there was not a tinge of it when the rider drew rein suddenly before the inn porch, and bent from his saddle, with hat raised once more, his large brilliant eyes, of the rare dark hazel never seen in men of unmixed English blood, singling out Mrs Vosper.

" I could not pass you by, Dame Vosper," said a sweet voice, clear as a bell. " You have always a friend's welcome for Vivian Devereux." " Heaven bless you, sir ! " exclaimed the good woman, tears in her eyes, a proud flush on her cheeks, as she clasped in her ample palm the slight hand of the rider. " It's too good you are to do me the honour — and I never was gladder to see you than I am to-day." " The pleasure is reciprocal, Mrs Vosper. My pretty lassie " — to the barmaid — " will you buy a ribbon, true blue, for my sake ? " — • holding out a gold piece, with a winning smile ; and the girl received the gift, blushing and curtseying, and with beaming eyes. The old woman who had started at sight of the Canadian here made an abrupt movement, and uttered an exclamation of anger or disgust, attracting the quick keen gaze of the young lord of Rougemont.

" How now, grandam," he said, with a touch of contempt in his manner at variance with the debonair courtesy of a moment before, "you, I suppose, must not be forgotten ;" and he dropped some silver into her cloak, a corner of which was gathered up, for she held no hand to receive the money. She shook the cloak with an angry gesture, so that the money rolled under the horse's feet. " Gold to the girl, silver to the old woman," she said, in a harsh voice, which made Vivian start and look at her again, for it struck his sensitive ear as disguised and not belonging to her seeming condition. " You are a true Devereux. But I don't want your money. I wouldn't touch it. Keep it for fools that are willing to be bribed by it." " Hold your tongue ! " exclaimed a man near the speaker, laying a rough hand on her shoulder ; but Vivian hastily interposed.

" Hands off, friend ; for my sake never lay rough touch on a woman. Adieu, grandam, since you will not let me bribe you to a good wish." "You are wrelcome free to such wishes as I have," said the woman, boldly ; " they are not good ones. But there is little need for them. They will not alter the end." " I suppose not," returned Vivian, with a slight laugh. " Adieu, once more. Adieu, ladies," including Mrs Vosper and the pretty barmaid and half-a-dozen others in his low bow and parting smile, but noting, too, the face of the Canadian stranger. And he rode on, while the small boys made a scramble for the money which the old woman had rejected. She stood looking after the rider. " Ay," she muttered, clenching her hands under her mantle, "glozing tongue and winning smile, they cost you nothing ; and silver — you can fling it about as idle boys play with the sand on the sea-shore, and leave the canaille you despise to fight like dogs over it.

But never mind ; grief and wrong make prophets of their victims. They say the banshee, whose voice is heard before a Devereux's death or when sorrow threatens, wailed all night when my Lady Devereux — the beautiful Madame Rohan — died. It may be heard again soon, very soon, my Lord of Rougemont, and heir of Chandos, and Westleigh, aud Baronmere ; it may wail for you — or" — she grasped the stick she carried with a savage grip, and added, in a sort of chuckle as she tottered away — " or your brother ! "

Chapter II. Chandos Royal

ROUGH a lordly avenue of elms and beeches Vivian Devereux rode to Chandos Royal, which crowned with a mass of castellated towers the wild Heights of Brida. These cliffs took their name from a poor maiden who in distant ages was, it was said, wronged by a lord of Chandos Royal, and in her grief cast herself from the rocks into the boiling sea beneath ; but ever after, when misfortune in any form threatened the family, her sobbing wail was heard, and some averred she had been seen. Vivian, however, gave no thought to the banshee, and, with the mental comment, " She may have cause to hate our house — bitter cause. Brother Duke, you are no Joseph, though you would fain pass for one," had dismissed the ill-omened words of the old woman who had answered him in so strange a manner. He was not thinking, either, of the cold reception that awaited him — of the father who only two days before had written that, though he had caused him much grief, he trusted the writer would, with his political career, make a fresh moral departure ; of the brother who had been his enemy from his birth, and was his enemy still.

His thoughts were with the past — with the mother he had worshipped, whose death Duke Dev ereux's rebellion and hatred had hastened. He drew rein at the entrance to the noble pleasure grounds, and his eyes wandered over turret, and bastion, and pinnacle, and terrace, but dwelt longest — and he removed his hat now — on the lofty spire of the ancient chapel, rising up against the softly -tinted evening sky. Beneath that sacred shade slept twenty genera tions of Chandos-Devereux, and there rose a monument on which love had lavished all the wealth of art, over the grave of Stephanie de Rohan, the last bride of a Devereux, whose memory, after eighteen years, had power to make her son's heart throb with the anguish of vain regret, with w7ild, passionate longing that could not be satisfied, and bitter resentment for a wrong that nothing could ever blot out or make atonement for.

Rousing himself at length with an effort, Vivian rode on, and, as he passed under the grand old Gothic gateway into the wide courtyard before the great entrance, he saw that the door was flung open and the hall within was infilled with servants, eager to welcome him. Vivian had always been a favourite with the servants, but many of these were strangers. For all, however, he had a gentle word, a jest, a graceful acknowledgment, instantly recog nising all whom he had known, and promising to the girls a present for a " true blue " ribbon — and he did not forget the promise. " Afraid of the dog — of my good friend Alba ? " he said, as some of the servants shrank from the formidable-looking animal. " Have no fear ; he is not cruel like his namesake. Do as little harm, my nut-brown maid," — to a coquettish little under-housemaid, who covertly scanned the handsome young master and thought how like his pictures he was — " with your bright eyes as Alba does with his teeth, and you will have a peaceful old age."

The girl smiled, blushed, and hid herself behind a portly butler, of whom Vivian asked where his father was. " In the blue drawing-room, sir," responded that individual, " with Lady Constance Morton. Mr Devereux is out at present, sir, but left word he would be in to dinner." " Thanks." Vivian allowed a stately footman to precede him through the noble halls and galleries to the blue drawing-room, the door of which the servant flung wide open, announcing, in an impressive tone, — VOL. I. B " Mr Vivian Chandos-Devereux." There was a little exclamation of "Oh!" and a middle-aged lady rushed forward and clasped Vivian's hand in both her own. " My dear boy, let me congratulate you ! I am so delighted ! Dear me, Vivian, you are handsomer than ever, I do think. What an age it is since I saw you !

" An old man, somewhat bent, and whose trembling hand grasped a gold-headed cane, had risen from a luxurious arm-chair near the window, and Vivian, after imprinting a kiss on the fair, somewhat faded face of his father's cousin, and uttering a few appropriate words, crossed the room quickly to his father, and took his withered hand. Sir Randal looked up, with more than a flash of pride, into the noble face of his second son, who would make the Devereux name famous in this generation. "I am glad to see you, my son," he said, " very glad. You take my thoughts back to the days when I sat at Westminster. But I was only a useful county member ; you will be a great man — you have genius. Ah, well, well, I may not live very long now, and so I am well pleased to see you here once more. I am getting old, Vivian, very old.

You bring back the past ; you are so like your mother — so like her. Dear, dear, what a sensation she made the season she was pre sented! It seems only yesterday." Vivian's lip quivered as he gently led his father back to the arm-chair, and, arranging the cushions with a woman's tact and tenderness of touch and manner, asked the old man how he felt, and hoped he was better than when he wrote. " Yes, yes," prosed Sir Randal, " I was very bad then — very — and Duke had a bother with the steward, and that made me worse. Thanks ; that is very comfortable. What is the matter, Constance ? " A sharp little cry from that lady caused the question, and, turning round, Vivian saw that Alba, who he had left in the ante-chamber, had pushed open the door, which was not quite closed, and now stood on the threshold, waving his tail majestically, and hesitating as to whether he should advance or retreat.

"He is as gentle as a lamb, cousin," said Devereux. " My cousin Saint Leon gave him to me. He makes friends with every one." " A splendid brute," remarked Sir Randal, looking at the dog, with a critical eye, well able to judge of his ' points.' " Well, I don't mind him, but I don't know what Duke will say." A light colour flitted across Vivian's usually pale face. " Duke must get used to him," he said, quietly ; " but, if my cousin is afraid — " " Oh, dear me, no ! " cried Lady Constance, who had been skimming the top of Alba's head with the tips of her fingers, and starting back the moment he stirred, " I am not a bit afraid ! Good dog ! What a beauty, Vivian ! " " And a true friend," said Vivian, caressing his favourite. " Does any one except our selves dine here this evening, father ? " "Very likely," returned Sir Randal, "a young fellow named Everest — Percy Clinton Everest — from Ottawa.

He was on the Governor-General's staff, and my old friend wrote to say that he was coming over in the Castlemaine, with letters of introduction from him. So, of course, I shall be glad to receive him. He's quite a stranger in England, and, I suppose, wants some pushing ; so you may be able to help him." " Who are his people ? " asked Vivian. " A Cumberland family. His grandfather was General Everest, who settled in Canada. This young man is, I believe, the only son, and the parents are dead. My old friend's guarantee for him is enough." " He will be here presently," said Vivian. " There was a man standing in the porch of the Devereux Arms who had no Cornish face. Meanwhile I will retire. Cousin Constance," he added, " is not Florrie coming ? " " She will come to the ball," answered Lady Constance, smiling, "not before; and then she must leave.

I am so sorry that she has a prior engagement." " The ball ! " said Vivian, glancing at his father. "What ball?" "Oh," cried the lady, playfully, "I will tell you all about it at dinner. Now be off. You mustn't say me nay. I am going to have my own way in this." " I have no objection," said Vivian, shrug ing his shoulders. " Au revoir then, cousin. Come, Alba ; " and he went upstairs humming " Home, sweet Home," with his flute-like tenor voice, dwelling on the words with a mocking emphasis that turned them into ridicule. As he closed the door of his dressing-room he heard the deep-toned peal of the door-bell, and the hound pricked up its ears, and, with aloud growl, put its nose to the door, sniffing suspiciously. " Why, Alba," said Vivian, lightly, " we are not in the wilds of Mexico, where we have laid down to sleep, friend, with a loaded pistol in our belt, and your watchful eyes half open while you slumbered.