Catherine's Marriage: a novel

Chapter I. The First Step

Scene — a street in London, narrow, flint paved, with lawyers' offices on either side ; time — four o'clock, p.m. ; season — winter. Frozen, starved, outcrying, miserable Winter, lords it over east and west. West receives him in softly-carpeted man sions, where the tread of his ice-cold feet can not be heard ; sits him down to a plentisir board, where his chilly breath melts into fra grant steam ; warms him by yule-log fires> where his rigour must needs soften. East offers no roof to her Dead Guest. The VOL. I. B skeleton walks the street, and the groans of the houseless poor are his welcome. Here he comes, striding round the corner now; a north-east blast, so cold, that it burns on your face like fire, precedes his coming ; a shower of mingled sleet and snow, and your eyes are blinded ; you stagger, and wonder where you are — in the road.

A tattered beggar, half-clad, wholly starved, picks you out of the gutter, and whines for his reward — with the sleet freezing in his hair and beard. Take the pittance, poor wretch, and pass on ; a shilling cannot save you from your doom. Some one else hurrying up this narrow street, facing the pitiless blast bravely. No beggar this time. A respectably-dressed woman, doing battle with her umbrella, which the wind has turned inside out — for neither will it open nor shut, as open and shut it should : the snow is lodging on her smooth hair and neat bonnet, the sleet beating against her unprotected face, and the biting, bitter wind frolicking with her skirts, bent on letting all who choose know that a well-made foot and ankle lurk beneath them. An individual, passing by at this moment, may know it, but he does not choose.

He is muffled up to the eyes, and they are attracted by the battle with the umbrella. " Pray accept my assistance ;" and he politely grasps the inverted instrument of shelter, by a clever twist restores it to its original form, and returns it to its owner with a bow. "Thank you — much obliged. Would you be kind enough " A gust of wind whirled the shawl round her head ; still could be heard through the muff lings these words — " Basinghall Street, if you please ? " " You are in it." " Kent and Mercer's ?" " Solicitors ?" " Yes." And the bonnet was released, and the Iauy's face looked out once more, distracted, red, and somewhat annoyed. " Exactly opposite — pull left-hand bell." And with a hurried " good evening " the gentleman passed on. Five minutes after this, Mr. Kent was told a B lady wished to see him in his private room.

The dapper little gentleman leisurely descended from his stool, and went up-stairs. He bowed courteously as he entered ; for Mr. Kent was a gentleman, and he saw, at a glance, he addressed a lady, although not richly clad. She rose without speaking, and placed an open letter on the table before him. He glanced at it for an instant. " Ah ! — yes — certainly. I have the honour of addressing the lady to whom I directed this communication ?" " Yes, sir. It was I who put that advertise ment in last Thursday's paper, and now call here, at your request, in consequence of its ap pearing to meet your requirements." " Certainly — to be sure. Not mine exactly ; I act for another in this matter. I believe your advertisement stated you were in search of " " A housekeeper's or governess's situation in a gentleman's family ; that I could teach French and Spanish, music and drawing."

"May I ask if those languages were acquired abroad ?" "The French in Paris, the Spanish in Ja maica." " Oh ! in Jamaica ; indeed !" Mr. Kent looked so surprised, that the lady added, almost directly — " My mother was a Spanish Creole." The gentleman only inclined his head, and looked thoughtful over the intelligence. " Have you any objection to make on that score ?" she asked, after a short silence. " No — no — none in the least, madam. I was merely reflecting whether a lady of your accomplishments would choose to undertake the combined duties of governess and housekeeper in the family I speak of." " Certainly, if the salary repays me." "You would have two hundred per annum. The gentleman is wealthy and liberal ; if you do not think those terms sufficient, he would doubtless raise them, as he is fully aware the situation is one of great care and responsi bility."

" They are beyond my expectations, as it is. May I ask what will be required of me ?" " The education and entire charge of his only daughter, as well as the superintendence of his establishment, which is large." There was a second silence after this. Mr. Kent looked meditative, the lady impatient ; at last she broke it by inquiring whether the place was in town or country. " Country," was the reply ; " in shire." " Am I to consider myself engaged ?" she asked. " Well, there is a little matter I have not mentioned as yet, as I thought it unnecessary until aware of your decision. I find that fa vourable, and, therefore, I feel bound to make you acquainted with it, as the substance may, or may not, cause you to alter your decision in consequence. As I remarked, I act in this matter for a third person, whose instructions I am bound to follow, and among them is this : that it would be required of the lady who en tered upon this situation that she should, as it were, keep a journal of the most important items occurring in the daily life she led, and sub mit it to the third person, of whom I speak, monthly."

The listener looked amazed, and asked bluntly if such a desire were the freak of a mad person. " The individual I speak of is perfectly sane," said the lawyer, curtly. The lady had a dark complexion, and at this reply, it grew darker still. She looked indig nantly at the gentleman, and rose from her seat. " Your friend wishes to purchase the services of a spy. I decline the offer ;" and she was going. "A moment, if you please. Not a spy — the service required is scarcely that of a spy. It may be there is some important interest attach ing to a person or persons with whom you will be in close communication, and of whose words, thoughts, and actions it may be advisable to have a knowledge." " Possibly ; but 1 must beg to decline offering my diary as the means of affording it- Good evening, sir." " An instant, ifyou please ; have the goodness to open this, read it, and I will detain you no longer."

He placed a sealed letter in her hand, which he had taken from a strong box on the table, and stood by, rubbing his cold hands to gether, and looking at her inquisitively, as she haughtily glanced her eye over it. It ran as follows : " I know not by what name to address you now, as seventeen years have passed by since I called you by your baptismal one. I only know that, though still a deeply-injured and lonely woman, it is in your power to return much good for the evil done you so long ago It is the author of it who answers, through his lawyer, your advertise ment. He is a man of large property in Eng land, and a widower with two children ; his home is the abode of the wildest confusion and un christian licence ; he himself is a reckless and desperate man, pronounced, by those who are most intimately acquainted with him, to be mentally unsafe.

You will understand that, being the owner of considerable property, the largest portion of itentirely under his own control, this last accusation is an important one, and not lightly to be put aside. His enemies say he is mad, and at times should be subject to con finement, consequently, his friends desire the unprejudiced testimony of a truthful person, in the matter of his daily life and conversation, to place as evidence before medical authority, in order that they may negative or affirm the accu sation, when the disposition of his property, be queathed by will, shall be questioned at his death, as it most certainly will be. Thus you see how far it is in your power to serve the man who apportioned to you the life you lead. I have heard that the wild licence used in his house is the result of the absence of a good woman from it; that the unbridled passions of the father and children rage high, because there is neither fear of God nor man before their eyes.

Know ing this, can you, trusting to seventeen years' change in your appearance, consent to enter the house of your enemy, and do your best in an unknown way to save him here and hereafter — help him to joy as he helped you to sorrow ? Think of all this, but not hastily ; and, if you consent, write to me fully, as a friend who will not betray the secret of your previous history as connected with this man." The ladv sat down, and Mr. Kent saw no thing of her face and heard nothing of her voice for full five minutes after,. He had an uneasy impression that she was in tears, and that, when she next looked up, it would be Catherine's marriage. with a disagreeably disfigured face. No such thing. One could not fail to see she was not a person to yield to sudden emotions, but on the contrary, one strongly endued with controlling power over self.

Her firm, colourless counte nance looked as calm as ever when she nextspoke. " I revoke my refusal, aad accept this situa tion on the terms offered. My reasons for so doing will be appreciated by the writer of these lines. Do you know what they are ?" " Madam, I am totally ignorant of the contents of the letter you hold in your hand." She made no reply, but tore it into fragments and threw them into the fire. " And now, I presume, we may consider this business settled," said Mr. Kent, evidently thinking it anything but a pleasant one ; " only the name and the reference remaining. Of course, the latter is a mere matter of form ; still, I would rather that Mr. Ingestre should be fully satisfied all forms have been observed." " My name is Catherine Wace, and I refer you to the lady whose address is on this card."

" Then nothing else remains, Miss Wace, but to fix the time of your departure from London. This is Monday ; will Wednesday next suit you?" " To-morrow, if you please. I have nothing to detain me here." " Then to-morrow let it be. You will pro ceed by rail as far as I , where the coach will carry you on to Lowmoor. Mr. Ingestre's house, Redfern, is six miles from the town ; but I will send off a letter by to-night's post, informing him of your arrival, and he, of course, will send a carriage for you to the coach office. I need scarcely add that your position in this gentleman's family will be, in all respects, that of a lady." Miss Wace merely bowed in return to this, and named the hour it was probable she would leave London on the following morning. It seemed that there was nothing to add after this.

Stay — who was to be the receiver of the monthly accounts ? The enclosures were to be directed to the lawyer at his office. That settled everything then, and the lady took her leave. Then Mr. Kent descended from his own room to that of his head clerk, who was writing busily at his desk. The lawyer fidgeted Catherine's marriage. with his pens and ink for a moment or two, then, glancing up, he said, rather timidly, for Mr. Kent was, at heart, very much in awe of his fierce, clever right-hand — " Mr. Brown, the lady who has just left me will undertake this disagreeable business, I think." " What disagreeable business ?" said Mr. Brown, sharply. "This of Mr. Ingestre's. Perhaps you have forgotten my mentioning to you, some little time back, that a very gentlemanly person, who called himself Dr. Riga, waited upon me, to say that a certain portion of Ingestre's family were bent on making my client out a little insane at times, and that, acting ostensibly for them, but still leaning towards Mr. Ingestre's interests, he should propose a plan by which he and his other medical " " Oh, ah !

I remember ; a diary, or some thing, some one was to keep. Watch him well. Bah ! fools' play ; that man is no more mad than I am." " So I said ; but he urged proof, and proof is certainly everything, as we all know. I do not see that her diary subjected to this gentle man can harm my client in any way, or I would not be the means of putting it into his hands. Eh, Mr. Brown, what do you say ?" " Oh, well, if the man is not mad, why, of course, it can't ; if he is, why, I suppose she will soon find it out, and tell them. But, as a point of law, I don't see that can do him any injury." " No, I think not — I think not myself." And here the discourse ended, for Mr. Brown waxed impatient. Among the numerous business letters written by Mr. Kent the next day, was the following, addressed to " Dr. Riga, Berners Street, London ;" these the contents : — ■ " Sir, — According to instructions received from you, I engaged, yesterday, a lady suitable in all respects to fulfill the duties required of her in Mr. George Ross Ingestre's household.

She clearly comprehends the part you wish her to perform, and, if I may offer an opinion, will perform it with zeal and intelligence. Her monthly papers will be forwarded to you on receipt of the same, and, for my own personal satisfaction, I should be pleased to hear from you that my share in this painful and delicate transaction has been beneficial to the matter in hand. " I beg to remain, sir, " Your obedient servant, " William Kent."

Chapter II. Phillipe

Dr. Riga's name was on a dull brass-plate affixed to his door, and Dr. Riga sat over the remains of his breakfast, conning, with a per plexed countenance, an opened letter beside him. " It is strange — it is incomprehensible !" he muttered (the doctor was not an English sub ject). " Who is Mr. George Ross Ingestre ? — who is the lady suitable ? — and why is it delicate and distressing ? — and what has it to do with me ? Strange ! Ah ! I have it ;" a thought appeared to strike him. " The letter is not for me," and he put it aside. In a few moments the door opened, and a person entered, whom the doctor immediately addressed. " Phillipe, a letter for you : to me it is a mystery." The gentleman took the offered note, and glanced at its contents. " No mystery to me ; all works well so far ;" and he put the letter in the fire, as he muttered these last words in an under-tone to him self.

But the doctor's ears were quick. "What works well? — what hast thou on hand beside the interests of our order ? — what right " " None, none ! no rights have I in the world save those you acce'de to me. I am a slave, bound hand and soul." "Dost thou regret it? — eh?" And the questioner looked up from beneath his shaggy brows, at the dark, handsome face opposite. " Regret it ? — no ! To you I owe my life. and to you I give it. I regret no bondage I incurred by the gift. Command, and I obey." " Do so ever, my Phillipe, or the hand which saved you, must sign your death-warrant." The other bowed his head, but made no reply ; when he turned his face again to the light, his lips were livid, and his white teeth appeared stained with blood. VOL. I. c

Chapter III

miss wace's diary. February 20th, 185 — . I am ignorant whose eyes will glance over these pages. I am ignorant whose hand traced the few lines which caused me to undertake their transcription ; but I feel that it was one who knows me and my history well ; therefore, concealment, in any form, would be superfluous, and it remains to me now only to do the duty I have taken up, without falsifying it either to myself or others. And, first, a word as to why I have taken it up. I am a woman of some determination of character ; the prospect of a hard life does not terrify me, nor will a bed of thorns drive sleep from my eyes. 1 have suffered, but, thank God, I have not be come hard ; I have been injured, but the injuf Catherine's marriage. 19 ries I have endured have not prompted me to turn against the inflictor.

I am content to leave the just issues to God, myself striving to exercise mercy and long suffering. Therefore, when he who has made my lot a forlorn one for ever, rises up before me in the supplicating position of one I can aid, I dare not, for my soul's sake, refuse the little I can give. I have no fear that he will recognise me ; and if he did, what then ? The man is changed, indeed, if he could turn upon me for the help I would give him. I have only been in Eng land six months, but even in visiting the land of his birth I have felt an eager longing to see him, his wife and children — little dreaming that Heaven would grant my desire thus. As I said, I have taken this trust upon myself, and will put down here as faithfully as I can all that passes, day by day ; but I lay claim to no more than sincerity of purpose and truth fulness of narration.

I arrived here last night ; neither servant nor carriage was at the coach-office to meet me. I had to walk six miles across a bleak country, and through a heavy snow-storm to reach the house. c I saw its lights two miles off, and, keeping them in view, I steered my course wtih great difficulty across rough fields and lately-ploughed land, until I found them close at hand. A woman at the lodge guided me across the park, or 1 must have given up the search as hopeless, for the forest trees were so thick and numerous that I lost sight of the glimmering lights I had seen so far off on the high grounds. I was not expected. Mr. Ingestre was from home, and his letters were unopened. I was therefore, under the necessity of introducing myself, and requesting a room might be prepared for me as soon possible.

I inquired for Miss Ingestre, but she was not to be found, although four female servants and an African man went in search of her ; and while they went, I stood alone in the long, low hall, shivering in my damp garments, and thinking of the reception that should have been mine in this house seventeen years ago I do not know much of English gentlemen's country residences, but this one seems to me very large, comfortable, and unostentatious. The servants are numerous, ill-trained, and uncivil, since it was an hour before my fast was broken or my halffrozen garments taken from my back- By the time I was fairly installed in the "governess's room," as a flippant housemaid girl termed it, and warming my chilled blood by a blazing wood-fire, a furious scratching assailed the door from without ; some one opened it, and four or five dogs rushed in, followed by a girl of thirteen or fourteen years of age, who stared at me with open-mouthed wonder for a moment or two, and then said — " Oh, you are the new governess, I s'pose ?

I am Miss Ingestre. Papa is not at home ; he went out with the hounds this morning (he's master of 'em, you know), and has not been back. They had a splendid run, Bob tells me (down, Vix ! she'll wolf that plate of toast, if you don't look out,) lost at Mistly and found again at Boddesmere, and from there went right across country to Charing Thorn, where the fox took the cover on the left of the hill by the Blean. Oh ! I forgot you don't know the places, so it's no use telling you. Papa is so preciously knocked up that he stopped at Tynfall, Captain Fox's place, instead of riding straight home with the hounds. Ross is at home : would you like to see Ross ? He is my brother." " Presently I shall have that pleasure. Just now oblige me by turning those dogs out of the room, or there will be neither food nor china re maining on the table."

They had already devoured three rolls and a pat of butter, and broken a plate. " What ! Don't you like dogs ?" she in quired, with great scorn, and not moving to obey. " Those are Ross's hounds. I keep'em for him ; and I like'em to be with me when I say my lessons, mind. The other governesses always let me do as I like ; you must too. I always do as I like in papa's house." And she folded her hands behind her, shook back a profusion of straight black hair from her eyes, and looked me defiantly in the face. I looked at her, and smiled in spite of my self — forlorn, neglected, pitiful object that she was, with the garb of a beggar, and the air of a queen ; yes, for a beggar, indeed, might have claimed as its own the tattered old frock she wore. Her tanned arms were bare up to her tanned shoulders, her feet and legs were more visible than was seemly at her age and size, and the pretty face — dark, impudent, and gipsy-like — that looked out from her mane-like hair, had certainly not been acquainted with water that day.

A dirty, pretty, insolent gipsy girl, I should have thought her, and most decidedly no daughter of an English gentleman. But there she stood — my pupil, and Miss Ingestre, and a rebel that had to be subjugated to my authority. " We had better understand one another, young lady, at once," I said, making a bold stroke for victory. " I come here to command — you to obey. I shall instruct — you will learn. Therefore let me have no threats — no resistance : for I dislike excessively exerting my authority : but I do so when there is occasion, mind that." " Ah ! you fancy that.your'e going to domineer over me like the rest of them ; but you sha'nt ! I hate governesses and servants. Nasty vipers!" Her face was scarlet and indignant as she flung this anathema at my head. " I am not of a domineering disposition," I returned, very quietly ; " and tyranny is odious to me.

All I require is, the obedience a pupil owes to her instructor, and that I will have, Miss Ingestre." She still glared at me very rudely; so I thought it best to try a deeper cut, and see if shame would accomplish subjugation. " Stay," I continued ; " I shall look for more than this. You are to be my sole charge and care ; therefore I shall require of you cleanliness in the matter of hands and face, smooth hair, and respectable attire, and, above all things, shoes that do not betray your intimacy with the stable, as those you have on at present do." This was a master-stroke. She stared at me with rage, grief, and shame contending in her crimson face; then the tears began slowly to roll down her unwashed face, and she did not attempt to check the great bursting sobs. " It isn't my fault — I can't help it.

No one cares for me. Papa doesn't. Haven't got a decent frock — no one to buy it. Only Ross loves me, the hounds, and — and — I wish I was in Redfern vault, that I do !" Before I could interpose a word of comfort, she had turned round and rushed out of the room, the dogs after her. I did not follow, for my ignorance of the house prevented it.

Chapter IV. After Seventeen Years

The next morning at eight o'clock a message was brought up to me from Mr. Ingestre. It politely expressed a wish to see me as soon as convenient, for business called him to Lowmoor at ten. I was up and dressed, and followed the maid to the breakfast-room She threw open the door, announced, and closed it after me. You know who I am, and know therefore that the man who stood before me was no stranger. I had no need to look at his features. I knew them. I had no need to scan his character in the turn of an eye or lip. George Ross Ingestre stood before me ; and I knew him, as perhaps not many others do. He was standing in front of the blazing fire, his Herculean figure carelessly supported against the marblechimney-shelf. His head was bent, and he was looking with a smile into the upturned face of his daughter, as she clung with both hands to his arm.

A noble-looking boy sat in an arm-chair on the other side, playing with a large black dog at his feet. Mr. Ingestre came forward and led me to a seat, apologising for his absence the previous night, and the discomfort of my arrival. " I am afraid your idea of Redfern hospitality will not be a favourable one, Miss Wace ; but trust me, it shall be my strict endeavour to re move an impression which, I assure you, on my honour, is not merited. You have had an in terview with my daughter, I understand, so it only remains for me to introduce my lout of a boy. Come here, Ross, and make your bow. There he is Miss Wace : Ross Ingestre, Esquire, aged fifteen years and six months, standing five foot nine in socks, and as great a dunce at his lessons as ever inherited six thousand a-year and a good name.

Be candid, Miss Wace, and tell me what you think of my son and heir ?" I was deeply agitated, but my self-control is great. To hear this voice again — to be called upon to praise his beautiful boy — to know that I must look in his face as I answered ! I do not remember my reply, but I think it pleased him, for he burst into a laugh, strangely new to me — boisterous, even coarse, it sounded. The boy tossed back his shining, brown locks ; his bright, handsome face coloured, and he spoke out in an injured, indignant tone. " You're always at that game, pa ! I wish you wouldn't, you know ; it makes a feller feel so precious awkward. I'm not a dunce ; and you're as proud as a peacock when old Dawson goes telling everybody " The boy stopped, and his pink cheeks turned scarlet. " That Ingestre is the cleverest boy in the school, and beats his masters at classics !" cried his father.

"Yes," put in his sister, half-breathless with the intelligence ; " and he thrashed Nat Austen, the head boy, too — a great fellow, trained to fight." "Never mind, Ross, my boy, I'll redeem your character with Miss Wace. You shan't suffer in a lady's opinion, if I can help it ; I know the value to be set upon it too much. Now, Cleland," turning to his daughter, "what have you to say to Miss Wace, eh?" "Why, that I want my breakfast; and I should think she does, too." " By Jove ! Miss Wace, your pardon ; I quite forgot : there, out of the mouth of a babe and suckling I stand rebuked. Out of the way, dogs ! Ross, ring the bell instantly, and kick the setter out of that chair. After my grand promises, Miss Wace, to keep you fa mishing for your breakfast ! But, there, I am getting old, and my memory is going, I believe.

Cle, don't laugh at your poor old father, I beg." " Why, you know you were drunk last night, pa, dear," said his daughter, with all the cool ness imaginable. I think he did not hear this, as he was beg ging me to take the head of the table, and pour him out a cup of tea " hot, strong, and sweet." He seated himself in an arm-chair opposite, and between the intervals of eating and drinking, gave me various directions for my future guid ance. " The servants are a lazy, insolent set," he said. " Don't let them get the upper hand over you — carpet it, to use one of their own expressions ; for they will, if they can. The cook and the butler, Parkins, are the greatest rogues. The consequence is, they are always fighting, and lying about each other. You may pro bably be induced, at first, to credit Parkins of the two, for he is a rank hypocrite, pretending to read his Bible when he ought to be doing his work, and singing psalms when he knows there is a Churchman near to hear 'em ; but it is only cant, and cook is the honestest thief of the two, I fancy.