Linley Rochford. A novel

Front matter

LONDON : ROESOX AND SONS, PRINTERS, PANCRAS ROAD, N.W. % fobtl. BY JUSTIN MCCARTHY, AUTHOR OF (MT ENEMY'S DAUGHTER,' *A FAIR SAXON,' ETC. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. II. LONDON: TINSLEY BEOTHEES, 8 CATHEEINE ST. STEAND. 1874. {AU rights reserved.] CONTENTS OF VOL. II. CHAP. PAGE i. Linley takes a Holiday . . . . i ii. Her Welcome Home ..... 36 in. Sinda's Brother ...... 65 iv. Condoned ....... 101 v. ' Like the base Indian' . . . .127 vi. Mr. Tuxham talks Scandal . . .156 vii. ' My Master' and his Slave . . -183 vm. ' A Dream that was not all a Dream' . . 218 ix. ' Mr. Eochford's Second' .... 245 x. An ill-omened Feast CHAPTEE I. linley takes a holiday. Thus Linley amused herself some Avhat wearily. She had absolutely nothing to do but amuse herself. Mr. Rochford disliked women having any concern with domestic affairs.

He wished to have his Avife perfectly free of all other duties Avhenever he liked to talk to her or to read to her, or to have her read to him. A housekeeper Avho had served under the other Mrs. Rochford relieved Linley of every care or share in household affairs ; and Linley felt rather like a child who Avas allowed the free run of a large house than like the mis tress of the establishment. At Dripdeanham VOL. II. B she had Sinda to look after, who Avas her especial care, and she could walk alone by the sea. Here she had only to fall into the life of London in the season, and to be taken about by Mrs. Courcelles. A strange sense of unreality seemed to' embarrass her existence, as if she were only playing a part ; as if she Avere not the real Linley at all. For some reason, which she could not explain or did not try to explain, she very seldom Avrote to her aunts at Bonn, and therefore there Avere times wdien she seemed to ha\Te drifted away from her old Avorld and her former self altogether.

Another curious and entirely new sensa tion came over her sometimes. She began to feel nervous and uneasy if left alone in the gray of descending evenings. This sensation alarmed her, and she welcomed any manner of visiting or other trivial occupation to drive it away. Meanwhile she had not forgotten that there Avas one thing which she had proposed to herself to do when she came to London, and Avhich might be regarded in the light of a sort of duty. So much amusement Avas al ways thrust upon her or given to her cut and dried, that she had been compelled day after day to put off this one particular expedition. At last there came a day which appeared par ticularly opportune, for Miss Courcelles had engagements of her OAvn and Mrs. Courcelles had a headache. So there was a chance of a first effort at free action.

Chapter II. Her Welcome Home

The first mile of Linley's homeAvard tramp Avas so happy that it seemed to her as if she ought to be singing as she Avent along. For she believed that she positively had found her hero, and set him up again. What could the friend, patron, and protector of that best of creatures, that good, kind, unsuccessful Mr. Valentine, be but a noble being and a hero? It was clear to Linley that Valentine was one of those men of varied and diffusive little capabilities Avhich never come to anything great or win much success — talents that sparkle as the firefly does, but set no lamp or hearth-fire burning ; and that her husband, Valentine's only protector, had seen this and known it long since, and put himself on Valentine's careless easy-going level, in order that the unsuccessful friend might not feel the reality of his failure.

But she did ample justice to Valentine's pure and generous nature as described by his sister, and she was proud once more to be the Avife of the man Avho, as she Avould have it, played the part of Achilles to that Patroclus. Perhaps it was only natural that, as she gradually entered upon the mean and com monplace streets, the exuberance of her feelings should be a little dashed. She Avished that she had not even for a moment distrusted her master, and she found herself Avishing, too, that he had made his life seem a little more heroic, and not given ground for her doubts. She Avould have liked to hear Mrs. Valentine tell her tale all over again, in order that she might hav^e her reassurance reassured. Then she felt angry with herself for needing reassurance, and she longed to put her arms confidingly and faithfully round Rochford once more.

She hoped Mr. Valentine would go out to see his sister that evening, and that Miss Courcelles would not come back to dinner, and that she might at least have an hour alone with Rochford, even if she must go with the Courcelles to a dreadful evening party whither they were bound. The streets were croAvded, dusty, hot, and unpicturesque. People jostled her and stared after her. Once or tAvice she lost her way, and would not ask anybody hoAv to go until she had quite entangled herself in a maze of gray dull streets. The level evening sun light, when she could see it in the wilderness of houses she had now reached, annoyed and blinded her, as if determined to delay her. She Avas hurrying home as if she had done something dreadful in staying out — as if, in deed, there was any reasonable chance of her even being late for dinner.

Dinner was to be at eight, and a brisk young walker could easily accomplish the distance from Mrs. Valentine's to Linley's home in an hour and a half, and Linley had left Mrs. Valentine's at a quarter before six. She hastened on however now, with an odd unmeaning presentiment of something unpleasant about to happen, and a vague feel ing of penitence, as if she had been doing wrong. She glanced eagerly up Avhen she reached the square, as if she did not feel quite certain whether the house which she had left in the morning could have stood up all the day in her absence without anything happen ing to it. Then analysing her own emotions according to her Avont, and amusing herself with her own weaknesses, she smiled to think hoAv little her presence had to do with the safety of that great solid house; how many generations had passed away, seeing and leaving it firmly established ; how little difference her being out or in would have made to any body in it.

Except my master, of course. Yes, ex cept my master. She Avalked a little faster when she thought of Rochford, Aveary of read ing and lounging and looking round for her — and she not there. Perhaps it was something of a disappointment Avhen she got in (panting a little, it must be owned, and not seeming by any means cool and dignified enough for the mistress of that solemn and solid mansion) to find that Mr. Rochford was not at home. No body was in. The place looked doleful in the lone gray twilight of summer. Linley hurried to her room and began to dress for dinner. Her maid brought her a little surprise in the shape of a card from Mr. Tuxham, on Avhich were scraAvled a few rugged words in pencil, to say that he was sorry everybody Avas out, and that he Avould come again some time in the evening.

Linley was glad to hear that Mr. Tuxham Avas in toAvn ; at least her first impulse Avas to be glad of it. Just now, hoAvever, the announcement of his visit seemed in a moment to haA7e come at an unlucky time ; she could not tell how. Suddenly she heard a knocking beloAv. She started; surely for no reason. Such a sound Avas to be expected just then. She hurried doAvn to the drawing-room to Avel come my master. Yet there Avere a few seconds to be lost in the inevitable final pre parations of Avomanhood — the last touch to the hair and glance at the mirror, and so on; and she knew from the sounds she heard on the stairs below, that she AA'ould not be the first in the draAving-room after all. Odd un usual sounds too ; a vague commotion and hurrying, and eager loAv-spoken Avords, and Mr. Rochford's voice speaking Avith unwonted emphasis.

The draAving-room — two draAving-rooms in fact, Avith folding-doors now open — had tAA'o entrances, one at this end of the corridor, convenient for Linley now, who descended from the floor above; the other in the way of those coming up from below. Linley entered of course by the door nearer to her, and saAv in the dusk, against the Venetian blinds of the room farther from her, and which looked on the street, that Mr. Rochford Avas bending over something Avhich lay on a sofa there. It seemed to Linley in the flash of that terrible instant as if a dead body must have been brought in and was now lying there on the sofa. Her first idea was that something had happened to Mr. Valentine. Her master was kneeling beside the sofa now. Linley was not given to shrieking or alarms ; she ad vanced gently, quickly, to her master's aid and comfort.

Not, however, so quickly but that she saw him take the hand of the body and press it to his lips again and again, and heard him utter tender monosyllables of al most inarticulate love, and grief, and pity, and Avild alarm. Then she saw that it was not Mr. Valentine who Avas lying on the sofa, but Miss Cynthia Courcelles, looking, as the Elizabethan Avriters would have put it, Avhite as her smock, and evidently AAtithout con sciousness. 'Linley!' exclaimed my master, rising to his feet and looking pale enough in his turn. ' Is Miss Courcelles dead ?' Linley asked with livid lips, glittering eyes, and accent of inexorable composure. ' She has had a fall,' Rochford faltered, 'but I hope — I should think it's not so bad as that. I have sent for Dr. Norman. You see — don't you, Linley? — that she is sense less ?' ' I see,' Linley replied, and was going to add, ' she is not the only one ;' but she kept in her sarcasm as far too small and pitiful for such an occasion; and in a moment several maid-servants Avere in the room, and then affrighted Mrs. Courcelles, and then Dr. Nor man. ' Where Avas this— where did Cynthia fall ?' asked the excited mother, looking to Linley for explanation. ' In the Row,' Rochford interposed, and cast a look of earnest appeal at Linley. ' It is not much — only hurt.

I — we got her into a carriage, and she seemed very well ; but coming along she fainted — from the pain.' ' Now,' said Dr. Norman quietly, ' the sooner you all go out the better, except the young lady's mother, and perhaps Mrs. Roch ford — if you are not likely to be excited or nerA^ous?' ' No,' said Linley, ' I can keep my nerves under control. Can I be of any assistance?' ' Better than one of the maids, I think.' ' Then I'll stay,' said Linley. 'I don't think it's very much,' Dr. Nor man said reassuringly, to all and sundry who were leaving the room. Poor Mrs. Courcelles Avas more like a withered leaf in a fitful wind than a human creature, so uncontrollable was her excite ment. Dr. Norman motioned with his hand for quiet; Linley pitied the poor mother, and tried to say a soothing word to her.

Cynthia soon opened her languid eyes and said, 'Mamma!' and the face, the large eyes, and the one word reminded Linley cruelly of the great dolls that, being provoked thereto by a string, ejaculate the same endearing name. ' You live, my darling !' Mrs. Courcelles exclaimed, and Avould have flung herself on her daughter and stifled her to thank her for living, but that the doctor Avaved her back and Linley restrained her. Linley seemed all the time to have no emotion of her OAvn, no thought that concerned herself. She looked on like one of the pupils in the great master's anatomical lesson. ' 0, will she live ?' asked Mrs. Courcelles. ' She Avill live,' said the doctor com posedly. ' There's nothing serious in it.' The beautiful Cynthia indeed had had a smart fall, and had hurt her shoulder and sprained one ankle, and had one or tAvo little wounds on the back of the head — Avhere Lin ley was pleased to perceive that the hair was not very thick, for Mrs. Courcelles, at the surgeon's request, removed a Avhole mass of it Avith a dexterous movement or two.

None of Cynthia's beautiful limbs Avere broken. In fact, it was all a matter of a Aveek in bed and a medical man and affectionate nursing. So Miss Courcelles Avas put to bed, and Avas or dered to be kept very quiet, and she smiled a sweet smile of gratitude upon her kindly hostess. ' 0, thank God there is no danger,' ejacu lated Mrs. Courcelles, 'and we can all smile again !' 'Yes, we can smile again,' Linley echoed; ' we can all be very merry now s When Linley passed up to her own room again, she found to her surprise that Rochford Avas there. ' Linley,' he said, offering her a chair, and closing the door behind her, ' you don't think too much of this day's nonsense?' She looked at him, but could say nothing. ' We Avere riding together,' he hurried on — and he sat down while speaking. ' She came home — came here, I mean — unexpectedly, and I prevailed on her to go for a gallop in the Roav, very late; and the horse fell, and I thought the poor thing was killed, and that it Avas my fault.

That Avas all, Linley ! I brought her up-stairs myself, and then I thought she wras dead; and one can't help feeling some thing at such a moment.' ' 0 Louis !' She could say no more, the tears were rushing to her eyes. ' We are very old friends, you knoAv,' he said, 'and I believe she Avould have married me; but then there was some quarrel, and then you came between, and all that. I never cared about her really, Linley, and I was only too glad to escape marrying her ; but of course it was a disappointment to her, and you must be a little generous and forgiving. You have won, you know.' ' Won ? Have I won ?' said Linley sadly. 'I have lost all. You made love to me and married me only in a sort of quarrel Avith — with the other person.' 'No, no, Linley, not that. I never loved her; but when I saw her lying dead, as I thought, some of the old memories did come back for the moment.

I am ashamed of my self now — confoundedly ashamed — and I'm afraid I have lost some of your good opinion, Linley. But a man of forty, my sweet and twenty, has more memories than you girls could have. I have come to ask for your forgiveness, Linley. I needn't ask you not to speak of this ?' 'No,' said Linley; 'I have no confidants,' and a great sob had nearly broken from her. 'Thanks, dear,' replied her husband, growing more and more composed. ' You may be sure that you have seen the last of that sort of idiocy on my part, and we'll get these people aAvay as soon as that girl gets well. You saw, Linley, that she had nothing to do Avith it; she was quite insensible.' ' She Avas,' said Linley Avith a sigh. ' She is happy to be insensible.' ' But we'll get rid of them,' said Rochford, ' as soon as possible. 0, did you knoAv that old Tuxham's here ?

He came whUe you were with that poor girl. I made him stay for dinner, and a remarkably bad dinner it Avill be now — everything spoiled, of course. You are ready, Linley ; you will come ? I would not for all the world that you did not show yourself at din ner to-day, after all this. 1 don't know what such a fellow as Tuxham might think. And Valentine's beloAv too. You'll come, Linley?' ' 0, yes,' said Linley, ' I'll come — in a few minutes, Louis, if you'll just lea\Te me.' Rochford turned upon her a half-querulous or impatient look, as if her enforced calmness puzzled and irritated him. He paused for a moment, as if uncertain Avhether to say some thing or not; then he turned and left the room, and she heard his step languidly and almost feebly descending the stairs. Suddenly the step returned, and she heard a tap at the door and Rochford entered. ' Linley,' he said in a low soft tone, ' I have come back because you have not said that you forgive me.' ' 0 Louis, what is the use of such a question Avhen you are my husband, and I must forgive you, and you say there is so little to be forgiven?' ' Well, Linley, there isn't a great deal, as the world sees things, but I should like to hear you say you forgive me.' ' I suppose you are right, and the world sees things as I don't see them.

Yes, Louis, I forgive you.' ' From your heart, Linley, or only Avith your lips ?' ' With my lips noAV, Louis ; but Avith my heart, I promise you, when I can. Perhaps by saying things over and over one gets to feel them in the end. I forgive you, Louis, for that, and for having married me, and for all ! 0, please don't stay any longer now.' VOL. II. E Linley was like one in a battle who feels a sudden shock and knows he is wounded, but does not yet know, and cannot stop to think, Avhether it is only skin-deep or an injury for life. Perhaps the one feeling uppermost in her mind for just that moment Avas a feeling of Avonder that Rochford could take it so easily, and could care for a Avord of formal pardon. And then folloAved the blank con viction that that was not her Rochford, her master, at all, and that her master, her hero, never had any existence.

All this succession of uncomfortable occur rences had delayed the dinner for a good deal more than an hour, and when Linley entered the drawing-room she found her guests al ready assembled. They were, hoAA'ever, only Mr. Tuxham and Roche Valentine. Mr. Roch ford was standing near the fireplace (Avherein iioav, of course, there were only white flowers and paper) talking to Tuxham, or being talked to by Tuxham. Valentine was seated on the piano -stool, and was carelessly touching the keys of the instrument. Linley came in composedly, and Avas conscious that she had her self under great control; but she could not help giving one glance of pain or repugnance towards the sofa on which Cynthia Courcelles had so lately been laid. It was like seeing again for the first time the place where one had seen a murder or a ghost.

Linley became aware in a moment that Rochford had noticed her involuntary glance. ' Delighted to see you, my dear!' said Mr. Tuxham, advancing and bending his eagle beak. ' And so you have groAvn a fine lady, I'm told. Come here under the light, and let me see how fashionable life agrees Avith you.' Linley had given him both her hands in her friendly impulse, and he noAV dreAv her toAvards the light. ' Do spare us these inspections, Tuxham,' said Rochford almost pettishly. ' We can't all look as well in London as in the country.' 'Hum,' Tuxham went on, not taking the least heed of the interruption. 'Pretty well, might be worse. Not pale, but is that a last ing colour — this now?' ' You don't think I paint, Mr. Tuxham ? Be sure I would ne\rer stand such an ordeal as this if I did.' ' No, no, my dear' (soothingly) ; ' but co lour may be the effect of surprise — any sudden emotion ; and I should say that in general you must be looking rather paler than at Dripdean ham.' 'Do tell me of Dripdeanham, Mr. Tuxham.' ' Wait a moment.

Look of sarcasm rather deepening. Laugh at people noAV a good deal, don't you ? Touch of the malign, I should say. Yes. London fashionable life is the place to bring out all the bad qualities. Come, describe to me a day of fashionable life.' ' What, before you tell me anything about Dripdeanham?' ' 0, Dripdeanham's all right enough, and you are not its caretaker.' ' I'll tell you how a fashionable lady spends her day,' said Valentine, coming forward with his hands in his pockets, ' and I'll spare Mrs. Rochford the trouble. This is it, Tuxham : A lady of fashion AA'akes about one o'clock. She rings her bell, and her maid, Mrs. Betty, brings her chocolate, of which the lady gives some Avith sugar to little Shock, Avho has crept into the room. Then she sends round to ask po litely Avhether Lady Kitty and Miss Racket have taken cold in their chairs last night, as they were conveyed home from her rout.

Then she dresses and prepares to walk in the park at High Mall. In the afternoon Ranelagh — ' ' Stuff!' said Tuxham. ' This is talking Spectator,' said Linley. ' I didn't suppose Tuxham would knoAv the difference,' said Valentine. 'I thought it would do him just as Avell. I don't believe he has followed London fashionable life any farther doAvn than the time of Pope, and I am convinced that he thinks Ranelagh is still in existence.' 'Isn't it in existence?' asked Linley. 'I didn't know.' Dinner Avas announced at this moment, and Mr. Tuxham gave Linley his arm. ' And how is your patient, madame?' Mr. Tuxham asked as they sat down to dinner, the formal ' madame' being probably suggested by the ceremonial of escorting the hostess which he had just performed. 'My patient, Mr. Tuxham?' ' Miss Courcelles, I mean.' ' 0, yes.' Linley slightly started. ' She is much better, thank you.

She will do very well, I think. Mrs. Courcelles has just sent me a message to say that her daughter is ATery tranquil and quite conscious; but that she will not come to dinner because she thinks her place is by her dear Cynthia's bedside.' Linley could not keep from infusing into her tone a slight savour of Mrs. Courcelles' peculiar accent. ' She's quite right,' said Tuxham. 'That's her place. But it's all a fuss about nothing, isn't it?' 'Miss Courcelles AAras hurt, I behVve,' Lin ley answered, 'but more alarmed than hurt, I suppose.' ' She rides very badly,' Valentine observed. i ' Nothing on earth will ever make that girl a good rider.' 'How did it all happen?' Tuxham asked point-blank of Linley. 'Her horse took fright and fell,' Rochford interposed. 'Who picked her up — the groom?' ' I picked her up,' said Rochford pettishly. ' 0 !

I didn't know that you Avere there — I thought only the three ladies.' Rochford sent an appealing, imploring look across to Linley. Tuxham fixed his steel-gray eyes on her. Valentine looked up with a curious and perplexed air. '0, yes, Mr. Rochford Avas there,' said Linley quietly; and having told the truth, yet felt as if she had connived at a falsehood to oblige her husband. 'And then you all brought her home?' asked Tuxham, as if he were inspired by some particular motive for cross-examina tion. ' And then she was brought here, of course,' said Linley. ' And laid upon the sofa in your draAving room?' the irrepressible questioner pursued, Avith a sort of triumph in his tone, Avhich grew stronger as he saw Linley look up sur prised and even startled. ' She was ; how did you knoAv ?' Linley asked. ' Because I have eyes, Mrs. Rochford.' ' Ears, don't you mean ?' interposed Valentine. ' No, I don't, sir ; nobody told me anything about it; nobody seemed inclined to tell me anything about it.

Your husband, Mrs. Roch ford, seemed disposed to make as much of a mystery about the girl's bruised shoulder as if it Avere a matter about which I could pos sibly care three straAVS. Do you want to learn hoAv I knew that this young Avoman was placed in the first instance on that particular sofa?' ' I should be glad to know, Mr. Tuxham.' ' Because, ma'am, the moment 3-ou came into the room your eyes fell upon that sofa, and I saw a look of alarm or pain come just for half a quarter of a second over your face. I have seen such a look on women's faces when they happened to glance at a spot where they lately saAv a corpse. Noav let me make another venture. She grew sud denly worse, and fainted when she Avas brought here — eh?' Linley nodded. ' That is so, ma'am?' ' Yes, yes,' said Rochford, ' that is so.

But in Heaven's name, Tuxham, Avhat does all this tend to?' ' Tends to show the A^alue of observation, and of opening one's eyes and using them AArhen they are opened. You see, my dear' (Mr. Tuxham greAv very kindly and gracious on the strength of his triumph), 'as you were with her and kneAv all about the fall, there could be nothing particularly painful in see ing her merely brought in and placed to rest on the sofa. No, she was brought in Avell enough, but Avhen laid upon that sofa she suddenly fainted, and you, being rather sus ceptible and foolish, thought she Avas going to die then and there ; therefore the painful asso ciation! I saw it all in your eyes. Now, Rochford, you perceive, and you, Valentine, too, that people AAmo use their eyes can see things. Not many things escape me, I pro mise you.

Don't be alarmed, Mrs. Rochford ; I don't suppose you have any secrets — yet?' ' You haven't told me anything about Drip deanham yet, Mr. Tuxham,' said Linley. ' I so want to hear all about e\rerything !' 'Well, I think we have had rather more fever than usual, and rather more of drinking and family quarrels. But your house stands where it did.' 'And my little outcast Sinda, haATe you seen her lately?' ' I've seen her, yes. She appears all right, and is as great a little story-teller as ever. She told me only the day before yesterday, I think, that her brother had come back to England for her, and that he is very handsome and looks like a prince. What do you think of that for a story?' ' It's true, however,' said Linley, with as much triumph for her young charge as she could feel just then.

Glad to have a chance of turning away the conversation from unplea sant topics, she told of her adventure of that day, and told them that the young man was coming to see her — and Mr. Rochford — to morrow. ' I ventured to promise for you, Louis, that you would see him,' she said, without raising her eyes or looking towards Roch ford. 'I will see him or anybody, Linley,' her husband answered with a certain animation which he had not shown before, 'whenever you please. Promise anything you like for me. You always try to help people ; and you make me feel ashamed of what I am.' 'Now that is being a fond and devoted husband,' said Tuxham. ' Rochford, I never could have believed it of you ! My dear, you are a wonderful woman if you really have roused him up to earnestness. He positively did look as if he felt some emotion that time.

I do positively begin to believe in the virtue of married life. Valentine looks melancholy as he thinks of the years he has wasted.' Valentine had been silent for a moment, and was apparently thoughtful. Suddenly, thus addressed, he precipitated himself into the conversation in his usual voluble and em phatic way. ' But what right has a man to marry for the sake of being improved ? I call that sort of thing almost as shabby as marrying for a girl's fortune — it's fortune-hunting in morals. What right have we to expect women to set us up out of their own good qualities ? No ; it's mean, that sort of thing.' ' Doesn't that only say that you are too proud to owe anything to a wife, Mr. Valen tine ?' ' Well, no, Mrs. Rochford, I think not. A man ought to have his own decent outfit of good qualities, and not have to draw upon his wife.' ' But may they not exchange ?' ' No ; you can't do a peddling trade in virtues.' ' Can't the one reflect light on the other ?' ' No ; I don't believe in polarised virtue.