Living or Dead. A novel, etc

Chapter I

A DESERTED HOME. The weather was glorious when we left London. We decided to go to Llandudno by rail, and start from there on our easy journey to Lord Roth well's. Our guns and heavy baggage we despatched to await our arrival, and contented ourselves with a knapsack apiece, Valentine only adding a colour-box and sketching-book. He had been over the ground before, but was quite willing to see its beauties again. We started in high spirits, resolved to do exactly as we thought fit — to walk, ride, VOL. II. B [i-HAr. LIVING OR DEAD. saunter, or stay in one place as the mood took us. Valentine was radiant, both in apparel and spirits, and I was as happy as I could be without Claudine. The days passed rapidly and pleasantly. We steamed through the Menai Straits, we explored Conway, we lingered about Bettws-y-coed, and we drove round Snowdon, raved at the effects of lio;ht and shade in the Nant Francon Pass with its purple slate quarries, dreamed some time at Capel Curig, and then started to make easy stages across Den bigh, Flint, and Cheshire until we reached our ultimate destination.

Some days we walked, some days we drove. We were neither of us enthusiastic pedestrians, so felt no shame in chartering a conveyance when we could find one, and throwing our knapsacks under the seat, iocro-inoalon» comfortably to our next resting-place for the night. It was the 13th of August. Time was ■■] A DESERTED HOME. 3 running short, but we had not much further to go, so, the morning being fine, we decided to walk that day, or part of the day. If we changed our minds we trusted to getting a vehicle of some sort from a farmhouse or village on the road. We were now almost on the borders of Derbyshire. The road was good, and the country round about •smiling. Harvesting was in full swin^, and every one we met looked merry, con tented, and busy. Valentine was in the highest spirits. He trolled out snatches of sono;s as we walked, regardless of the passers-by or the reapers at work across the hedge, who paused in astonishment and admiration as his gay voice carried the liveliest numbers of the liveliest operas to their untutored ears.

AVe strode along at some three and a half miles an hour, stop pages excluded, for Valentine was always stopping, now to gather a flower, now to admire a bit of landscape, and even once B [chai\ 4 LIVING OR DEAD. or twice to sketch with rapid fingers some unusually pretty country child we chanced to meet, whose elder sister or mother, as the case might be, stood by us aud gazed open-mouthed at the operation. As he sketched he always talked to the child's companion, and finished by sending her away with a smile of content and pleasure on her face, for never did the boy deserve my title of 'Child of the Sun' better than when he talked to humble members of society. He must have felt interested in them, or he never could have designed the 7 O questions he put to them about their families, belongings, income, mode of living, and other domestic topics.

I expect they talked for days afterwards of the young gentleman with the bright hair and eyes, and whose fingers flashed with shining gems. We had walked some hours, and were beginning to think of a halt, when we came to a park-wall which bounded one side of '■] A DESERTED HOME. 5 the road, and hid all prospects in that direction from us. We walked on for the best part of a mile, and still that wall was on our right hand. As a wall it was well enough, but as a companion monotonous. We grew very tired of it, and inveighed in terms that savoured of Radicalism against the selfishness and injustice of landed mag nates in shutting so much of the earth away from the public gaze. We felt an immense respect for the owner of such a wall, but we blamed him soundly. By the time we reached a lodge, which broke the dreary uniformity of the stone obstacle, we were curious as to the place it had hidden so long from our eyes.

The lodge was an ordinary stone-built affair, such as forms the entrance to many grand houses. An old man in his shirt-sleeves was languidly digging in the garden that surrounded it. Valentine hailed him. The old fellow stuck his spade into the ground, left it there, and [chai\ 6 LIVING OR DEAD. came down to the gate. Even his surly countenance relaxed as Valentine stood smiling before him. " So sorry to trouble you," he said, " but tell me who lives here 1 " "Nobody aint lived here for many a year," answered the labourer. "Worse and worse," said Valentine, turning to me, " an absentee. I shall turn communist. Can we go over the place 1 " he asked of the old man. " Nobody goes over this place, they don't." " Not even one of those great sirs who give up their parks a dozen times a year to let the people breathe," said Valentine for my benefit.

" But we can come inside and look round, I suppose ? " " Not as I know of," answered the son of toil. " I wonder if half a crown would make you change your views on the subject." ».] 7 A DESERTED HOME. The old fellow held out his hand. " The gate aint locked," he said, " and I am hard of hearing. I sha'n't stop you if you like to come in." He pocketed the coin, went back to his spade, and turning his back to us dug away as before. Valentine laid his hand on the handle, but I held back. " I hate going into places where I've no right," I said. " So do I, but somehow I have taken a fancy to look at this particular place. Let us be Cockneys for once, and hold nothing sacred. A park-wall which, judging from the portion we have seen, must be some miles in extent, is worth looking at from the park side.

Then I never waste money, and want the value of that half-crown. Come along." And together we passed through the gate, and walked up the winding road to the house we saw in the distance. It was a lovely place — a place to make the best regulated mind feel envious. Acres and acres of undulating .sward, spotted here and there with clumps of fine old elms. But sheep were grazing all over, and even at the distance away we were we could see that all the windows of the large house were sightless with closed .shutters. " Let us walk across and see how far the park extends," I said. " No," said Valentine, " I want to see the house. The inside if possible, anyway the outside." So we walked up to the house. It was a large pile of buildings, a part evidently very old. Apparently it had been added to at different periods.

It was a low house with a long front. A terrace ran the whole length. A tower, scarcely an ornament, rose from the right, and no doubt com manded fine views of the country round. Except the park, which was evidently used as farm land, there was a neglected look >-•] 9 A DESERTED HOME. about the whole place, and with the closed shutters and deserted appearance the house presented I should have thought it unin habited had I not seen a thin stream of smoke arising from one of the back chimneys. " Who does it belong to, I wonder 1 " I said. " Can't tell," answered Valentine. " In Chancery, I should say. Some of your beastl}7 lawyer's work, Philip. Look at the marble pots on the terrace, without a flower in them for years." Just then a figure emerged from the back of the house. It looked like that of a middle-aged woman attired in sombre garments.

She came towards us. " Now we shall find out who is the happy or unhappy owner," said Valentine. " The genius of the place is approaching." " Most likely we shall be ordered out of the place as two intruding excursionists. What with your rings and wonderful appear ance altogether, there is no knowing what we may be taken for." "Never fear, Philip. I have a way; mark the ultimate result, Philip. I have a way with people." His way was a cunning one. The lady approached us. Then she was a lady no longer. A good homely sort of a body, housekeeper or something. But Valentine ignored this. He raised his hat and apolo gized most gracefully for our intrusion. We had passed that way, the gate was open, so we had taken advantage. The house being shut as it seemed had given us the idea that the family were from home.

We had ventured nearer to look at such an interesting old building. Had we known we were disturbing the privacy of one of the ladies of the house nothing would have induced us, &c, &c. I suppose nothin" would have been more unlikely than one '■] 11 A DESERTED HOME. of the ladies of such a house as that we stood before appearing in her own person to chase a couple of intruders, or that an ordinary creature like the one before us could possibly be a lady of the house. No one knew this better than Valentine, but he knew that the apparent mistake would not be unpleasant ; that no servant lives who does not feel a glow of satisfaction at being taken for her mistress. Not servants only. I remember a waiter at a seaside hotel telling me he had made about fifty pounds a year more than his companions from a habit he had of calling all commercial travellers, clerks, and young men generally who were spending their holidays at his hotel captain or colonel as most befitting their age.

The lady in black was mollified. " These are private grounds," she said, " but you are at liberty to walk round if you please, although there is not much to see." o [chap. 12 LIVING OR DEAD. " But the house must be most interesting. May we not go over it ? " " Impossible, gentlemen. It has been shut up for years. No one is allowed inside." " That makes us all the more anxious," said Valentine with a smile. " Could you not strain a point in our favour ? We are friends of Lord Rothwell, whose name I dare say you know about these parts." The housekeeper curtseyed at the name. " Yes, I know his lordship well. I have known him for j-ears. Has he returned from his travels ? " "Yes, we are due at Mirfield to-morrow. Now, will you show us over the house ? " " I would oblige you if I could, but my orders are so strict, gentlemen.

Please walk through the grounds and gardens. They used to be very fine when they were properly kept, but now there is little to see." I-] A DESERTED HOME. 13 Valentine tried further persuasion, but the guardian of the deserted castle was inexorable. Finding his efforts unavailing he laughed pleasantly. " Then, madame, we must content our selves with the outdoor beauties. Who did you say owned this place 1 " " It is the property of Sir Laurence Estmere," answered the housekeeper, with dignity. I glanced at Valentine. He had turned white as a sheet, and betrayed such emotion that I hastened to ask question after question in order to distract the attention of the lady in black. " Does not Sir Laurence live here 1 " I asked. " He has not lived here for many years." " How strange ! Such a beautiful place, too.

He prefers travelling about, I suppose." '•' I suppose he does, sir." " Is he a young man ? " [chap. 14 LIVING OR DEAD. " A middle-aged man. He must be about fifty by now." Valentine had recovered his self-possession, and reassumed somewhat of his airy manner. He took my arm. " Let us walk round, Philip," he said. "Thank you for your permission, Mrs. " r> " My name is Payne, sir," said the housekeeper, seeing he appeared to expect the information. " I like to know the names of the people I talk to," he said. " Thank you, Mrs. Payne, we will walk round the grounds. Perhaps we shall see you again as we go out." " I dare say you will, gentlemen," an swered Mrs. Payne, with perhaps a dream of gratuity in her head. Valentine said nothing until we had strolled to some little distance from the house, and had seen Mrs. Payne's sombre figure disappear.

Then he turned to me, I.] 15 A DESERTED HOME. and, with a bitter accent in his voice, said : — " No wonder I was drawn to look over this place ; I must have been born here, Philip. This is Estmere Court, where, some twenty -five years ago, my mother came, a fair young girl, with every prospect of a happy life before her. This is the house my father left for the sake of some wicked doubt which grew and grew in his brain. He has never been here since. Philip, it is hard, very hard, to come to one's rightful home an entire stranger. Oh, O O 7 if I could find out the truth of all, and set my mother right in my father's eyes ! If I could find out why he ever doubted her ! How strange it is to think that if Sir Laurence Estmere were to meet me now — here in this very place — we should not know we were father and son any more than I knew that this was his home, and, by rights, mine.

He must be mad, Philip!" [chap. 16 LIVING OR DEAD. " Have you ever tried to find him, to see him and convince him of his error ? " " Never — two years ago I swore I would. I went to Rothwell, the only man who could tell me anything about his whereabouts. Rothwell knew why I wanted to know it, and refused to give me any information about him. I pressed him for the reasons for his refusal, and when he told me at last, I felt I hated my father, and cared little whether I ever met him." " What were his reasons ? " " You are the only man I could tell, Philip ; and only you, because you believe in my mother's innocence. Rothwell told me that assuredly Sir Laurence Estmere would revile me, chase me from his presence — would curse me and bid me beo-one would sayin fact what that villain Chesham hinted at in vour rooms that nio-ht."

We had now walked down to a clump of trees which concealed us from every one's *■] 17 A DESERTED HOME. view. I took Valentine's hand and pressed it ; he returned my grasp. " It is all a lie ; told by that devil and used by his master's angels to wreck two, or it may some day be three, of the noblest lives in Christendom. For I have heard of my father, Philip. My mother talks to me about him at times. Rothwell has told me about him. He was a young man before this wicked slander crept into his brain and warped it, one of the noblest of his time, now he is a wanderer on the face of the earth, and my mother's life has been sad ness and shame. Oh Philip ! the kindest prayer I could offer for my father, is that he may never know the truth." "Does your mother ever hear of him, even indirectly ? Are there no money affairs between them ?

" " Money from him ! No, my mother would have starved rather than take a penny from the man, the husband, who VOL. II. c [chap 18 LIVING OR DEAD. thought that she could wrong him. No doubt he offered money, and that offer was rejected with scorn. She had her fortune which was settled on herself, so had no need to stoop, if she could have done so, to take money from Sir Laurence Estmere." We walked on from point to point in silence, pausing now and then to look at the fine expanse of park. If Sir Laurence's estate could be measured by the park he must be a wealthy man. I pitied Valentine from my heart, and wondered how I should feel under the like circumstances. A stranger on my father's land, and disowned and repudiated by him. "And this," said Valentine, with biting scorn, " will all be my brother's one clay.

That cur of a brother whom I have never seen ; who has never seen or written to his mother ! At least he can have no doubt as to his parentage," he added, bitterly. We walked across the park and into the !■] A DESERTED HOME. 19 neglected gardens. There were vases in which no flowers had grown for years ; moss and lichen hiding and staining what had once been white marble ; fountains that never played, and fish-ponds without fish. It was a miserable, unhappy-looking place to any one, and much more so to one who knew the reason of its neglect and decay. We studied the house from all points of view. " I must — I will go over it," said Valen tine ; " let us find Mrs. Payne again, and make another effort ; she looked a good tempered woman." Mrs. Payne, who had probably been on the look-out for us, again appeared.

We praised the park and condoled with her on the terrible state the gardens were in. Again and again we urged our request to walk through the house. Valentine pleaded, flattered, and made skilful use of Lord Rothwell's name, for we knew by some remarks C [chap. LIVING OR DEAD. she made that he stood high in her esteem. I threw out delicate hints of pecuniary benefit which might accrue to her, and presently we saw signs of surrender. " I don't think I can," she said doubtfully ; " you see my husband is away — gone to Flatcham market ; he would be so vexed with me if he knew it." " But we only want to walk through the rooms, Mrs. Payne." " There really is nothing to see, gentle men. The furniture is all covered up, the china and ornaments all mostly locked away. I don't think I could open the shutters to give you light enough."

" Oh, we'll open the shutters," said Valen tine. "Now, Mrs. Payne, come along, there's a clear lady, and I'll send you a black silk dress from London, and I'll give you a kiss when we leave if your husband hasn't come back from market." " Well, I never ! " said Mrs. Payne, laugh- I.] 21 A DESERTED HOME. ing; "I haven't had such a thing as that said to me for years and years. You are the most persistent young gentleman I ever saw." " I am ; I am noted for it, Mrs. Payne. I always get my own way. Come along, lead the way ; through the back door, I suppose. I feel as though you were quite an old friend of mine, Mrs. Payne. After we have looked at the house you shall make us some tea. Come along, it's all settled now ; a black silk dress any way, and a kiss, if you like." Mrs. Payne was conquered.

She turned and led the way to the back of the house. We followed her through a yard which led to the servants' quarters. She opened a stout iron clamped door, and Valentine Estmere stood within the walls, or rather the kitchen walls, of his ancestors. It was a sorry entrance for a child of the house. Along darkened stone passages, which LIVING OR DEAD. [chap. seemed interminable and intricate, we fol lowed our guide — past doors that had not been opened for years. Our foot-falls rang through the silence of the house. Then through a wooden door, with a faded baize one next to it, and we stood in the large hall of Estmere Court. As we followed Mrs. Payne, Valentine whispered to me, " Find out if she has been long in the family. I will make some excuse by-and-by. Say I want to rest or something ; then talk to her alone, and learn all you can.

This visit may be fatality, Philip." The hall was a dreary place, it was spacious and floored with tesselated pave ment. The rafters and woodwork were of dark carved oak, looking gloomy and heavy iu the dusk. High-backed chairs, spectral and large in their white unshapely bags, were ranged round an oak-table of gigantic dimensions which filled the centre. Various doors opened from the hall into their I] 23 A DESERTED HOME. respective apartments, and from one end of it the grand-staircase started. Mrs. Payne had resigned herself to our intrusion, and was adopting the manner of the regular custodian of show places. "This, gentlemen, is the large drawing room," she said rather pompously, throwing open the door and revealing a cavern of darkness into which she plunged boldly. We heard a struggle with a refractory bolt, the swing of a falling bar, a creaking sound, and one of the heavy shutters opened and the darkness became light.

The drawing-room was a lofty and noble apartment, but its furniture, like all the rest, clad in unsightly pinafores, the chan deliers swathed in the same way, hanging like gigantic onions from the ceiling. The carpet rolled up in one corner. Certainly, as our guide warned us, there was not much to see in Estmere Court. Mrs. Payne un veiled the beauties of one or two fine old sCHAP. LIVING OR DEAD. cabinets for our benefit, and even uncovered partially a chair, that we might form some idea as to the hidden charms of itself and its brethren. There was a musty, close, unwholesome smell about the room, and if, as our informant averred, it was more than twenty years since it had been inhabited, it was not to be wondered at. As with the drawing-room, so with the dining-room, billiard-room, and library, except that in the latter, by lifting up the winding-sheets which covered the tall oak cases from top to bottom, I could ascertain that a noble library of rare and costly volumes lined its walls.

The dining-room and the picture-gallery contained many fine works of art, and of course the portraits of Valentine's ancestors, handsome, dark-browed men and fair women and dark women. Over these we lino-ered reading the names on the frames, or hear ing all our voluble conductor could tell us I] 25 A DESERTED HOME. about them. I, who knew nothing of my own lineage, felt a thrill of envy as I listened to her histories of my friends' for bears. But ancestors are little good to any man whilst his most immediate one denies his right to them. Valentine moved from room to room mechanically. He spoke little, and if he laughed at any of Mrs. Payne's remarks his laugh was harsh and forced. Having looked at all the portraits, he said — " Is there no portrait of Sir Laurence Estmere — the present Sir Laurence ?

" " No, sir ; none among these." " But there must be some one, some where in the house. Let me see it." He spoke so peremptorily that the worthy Mrs. Payne looked astonished and annoyed. " There is a portrait, of course. It is of Sir Laurence and Lady Estmere — Millais painted it soon after their marriage." [chap. 26 LIVING OR DEAD. " Where is it ? Let me see it at once ! " " You cannot see it, sir," answered Mrs. Payne, coldly. " Mrs. Payne," said Valentine, " listen to me. I will give you fifty pounds — I am not joking — fifty pounds, if you will let me see that picture by Millais. You doubt me ? Philip, what money have 1 rr you I I handed him my pocket-book. He took out thirty pounds, then from his own pocket took twenty more. " There, Mrs. Payne, let me see that picture, and I will give you all that money.

It is a large sum for such a little thing, but I don't mind that." Her face flushed. To a woman in her position it was a great sum of money. " I can't earn it, sir," she said sorrow fully. "I wish I could." " It is only to let me look at a picture for five minutes." I-] 27 A DESERTED HOME. " Yes, but I can't get at it." " Where is it, then ? In the house, I suppose 1 " -" In the strong-room." " How could a picture get in the strong room ? " " When Sir Laurence left home last he ordered that picture to be taken down from its place. At first he said it was to be burnt. Then he changed his mind, and ordered it to be put in the strong-room. You see, gentlemen, Sir Laurence went away on account of a misunderstanding with her ladyship. That was why the picture was taken down and locked away." Valentine saw by her manner it was hopeless, so thrust the bribe back into his pocket.

" Who has the key ? " he asked. " Sir. Laurence, I expect ; I never heard. But why are you so anxious to see it ? " she asked, almost suspiciously. " Don't ask me, there's a dear, good woman. You may know some day ! " " If you want to see a likeness of her ladyship I could show you a little drawing — her ladyship and the children." " Yes, let me see it ! " said Valentine eagerly. Mrs. Payne left us, and in a minute returned with a small framed drawing. " Sir Laurence forgot about it, I suppose," she said, as she cleared the dust from the glass. It was but a sketch, but drawn by a master, probably Millais ; perhaps a pre paratory sketch for the larger work. It was Lady Estmere, a girl and a young wife at twenty-one. Just as I had always imagined she must have looked ! Her hair, bright golden, and a look of joy and sweetness of life in her whole bearing.

AVho, save a madman, could have asso ciated her with sin ! She held a baby in her arms, and a dark-eyed chubby boy I.] 29 A DESERTED HOME. was leaning on her knee. There was a bitter smile on Valentine's face as he pointed with his jewelled finger to the infant in her arms — himself ! We both looked long and earnestly at this sketch, but made no remark. It was Sir Laurence's likeness we wanted to see. Mrs. Payne seemed surprised at the little interest the picture excited. When we returned it to her, she laid it down on some piece of furniture. " They were two beautiful boys," she said. " I wonder when I shall see either of them again ? " " Have you been long in Sir Laurence's service ? " asked Valentine. " I began as a girl of fourteen. That's a long time ago," said Mrs. Payne, with the usual sigh at the flight of time.

Valentine drew me aside to look at a picture. " She must know all," he said. " See her alone, and ask her. I cannot trust myself." " Would you like to see the upper rooms and the tower ? " asked Mrs. Payne. " You may as well see everything now." " I don't care much about it," answered Valentine. " I dare say my friend would. I will stop here and rest, I am rather tired." Mrs. Payne looked doubtful " I sha'n't steal anything, although I wanted to get into the strong-room just now. You would like to go up-stairs, Philip ? " "Very much," I replied, "if Mrs. Payne will trust you here alone." " I want to study those two Dutch pictures, and look at the portraits again. I am an artist, you know, Mrs. Payne ! " " Indeed, sir. Well, I fancied you must be something of the kind ! " No doubt she attributed Valentine's eccentric behaviour to the fact of his being au artist, and thought she might venture to leave him I.] A DESERTED HOME. 31 alone.

" Please follow me, sir," she said, and we went up the grand staircase together to the first floor, which contained the principal bed-rooms. [chap. LIVING OR DEAD.

Chapter II. Through Good And Evil Report

There was little in the up-stair rooms of Estmere Court to attract attention. Except for the fine view they commanded over park and country round they were with out particular interest. But I lingered in them, as I wanted to extract what information I could from Mrs. Payne. It was my first attempt at cross-examination. " Sir Laurence is separated from his wife, you say ? " I commenced. "Yes, sir." " Lady E.stmere must have been very beautiful when that portrait was taken. Have you ever seen her ? " «.] THROUGH GOOD AND EVIL REPORT. 33 " I was in Sir Laurence's service when he married, so of course I have seen her." " Who was to blame for the unfortunate disagreement, Mrs. Payne ? " She pursed up her lips. " You are very inquisitive, sir, for a stranger. Old servants never pass opinions about their master's business."