A Child of Fortune

Chapter I. Unpleasant Attacks

TT7HEN Dr. Creasey ensconced himself so ' " snugly by the side of Esther Wyatt at the wedding-breakfast, he did so with an object. Of course he had the right of entre'e at " The Pines " at all times, both as medical attendant, and on account of the friendship, or certainly acquaintanceship, existing between Miss Wyatt and himself now for a very considerable number of years ; but still there are things that can be said, questions asked, and information gained, by a skilled man of the world, during the bustle and excitement of a public entertainment, which would be unapproachable under ordinary cir- VOL. II. B cumstances. To say that Dr. Creasey was hard-up, would be only to repeat what he has already told us himself, or it would, better still, be merely saying that he was in his normal condition, aggravated by an urgency that put in an appearance at almost regular intervals.

But his financial affairs happened just now to be more desperate than they had been for a long time past. He had incurred most serious liabilities — all the results of dissipation and a bad life — to meet which he had calculated upon the many " honest pennies " — it is curious how men lie even in their thoughts — which he fully intended to make out of ecarte and betting with Fitzallan. He was more than that young man's match at both, now that he understood the lat ter's game, and he had trusted to the gambler spirit Fitz had so decidedly evinced at their first meeting, to transfer many a cool hundred from the account standing in Child's Bank to the credit of "Fitzallan, Henry, Captain, Royal Eagles," to his own attenuated score in the Chorlbury local establishment. That amiable and profitable intention had been frustrated by Lady Clara Burton's " in terest " in the subject the doctor had intended to operate upon ; and it may be at once stated that Creasey's love for Lady Clara, whose inter ference he much more than suspected, was not by any means increased in consequence.

When a young officer in a crack corps suddenly aban dons the greatest passion of his life : when, a few months afterwards, he just as suddenly cuts himself entirely away from another distraction with which he had sought to close the gap left by the former : when that young man has neither kith nor kin — known, at least, to the general public — to influence his conduct : and when, moreover, that young officer is openly and plainly " spoons " on a young lady — then, so argued Dr. Creasey, that young lady must be the direct cause of the altered conduct of that young officer. What was he (Dr. Creasey) to do to supplement the deficiency oc casioned by the abominably selfish conduct of Lady Clara Burton ? A crisis in his affairs was approaching, and — by fair means or foul, little recked he which — he must have funds to meet the storm.

He turned over and over the list of all friends, acquaintances, dupes, or knaves with whom he was in any way connected, but b2 he could find no prospect of relief there. To say the truth, the doctor was better known than trusted ; one or two " queer" stories had, at intervals, rippled across the usually smooth surface of Chorlbury society, about the surgeon to the Fencibles ; and, though plenty of people were willing, on account of his man-of-the worldish ways, to receive him and make much of him in their houses, there were remarkably few who would have cared to lend him a five pound-note. Years ago Esther Wyatt had " helped " him — so he was pleased to designate the trans action — to the very best of her ability, in a similar crisis to that which was now impending, aud Dr. Creasey began to think she might, per haps, repeat the action.

" Any port in a storm " was a favourite maxim of the doctor's, and so he determined to " try it on " once more with Miss Wyatt. If she had the sum he wanted, or could procure it, he thought he should be able to screw it out of her in much the same manner as he had worked on the former occasion ; but then he was rather doubtful if she was really mistress of the amount, or even if she could raise it. Already she paid him a considerable annual sum for " medical attendance " on herself and household, and, though that was an understood thing — a tax, in fact — he questioned if she would be likely to capitalise any of it for his benefit. This wedding-breakfast, which Esther had, oddly enough, consented to attend, gave the doctor an opportunity such as he had hardly expected, and he proceeded to make the most adroit use of it for his own advantage.

He managed, as we have seen, to get beside her at the absurd banquet which goes by the name of "wedding breakfast," and, under the circumstances which led to the marriage, he found no difficulty in turniug the conversation he held with his partner to pecuniary matters. " He's a lucky man," said the doctor, with a deep sigh, " is that same Jack Paulton : good birth, good position, a handsome wife, even if she is — hem !" " Is what ?" " Well, not quite his equal in rank." "How do you know that?" was Esther's haughtily-put question. She was a woman, and took a pride in clinging to certain old un substantial traditions — the vaguest of the vague — which told how, centuiies ago, the Wyatts were a grand old family in an adjoining county. "How do you know that ?" she repeated. " It does not follow that, because a family has fallen low, they were always so.

You ought to know enough of the world by this time, Doctor Creasey, to be aware that no one can fight the decrees of Fate, and that families go up and down almost as regularly as the ebb and flow of the tide. May it not be so with the Wyatts, as well as with any other family?" " Oh ! of course — yes — very probably. All I meant was that just now — at least in the estimation of society — your niece is not quite — well — on an equal social footing with Paulton." " Pshaw ! you grow foolish, Creasey," was her contemptuous answer. He smiled good-humouredly, as he was able to do at will, and then he resumed : " Well, grant that she is his equal, or better than he is, if you will have it so, in blood, I say he's even a luckier man than I thought, for it but adds to the other good things he has married.

Just look at her money, for instance ; who'd ever have thought your brother would have made such a splendid settlement on her ? I didn't for one." " But J did. Nicholas, out of his factory or his stables, is little better than a fool. He has been dazzled with what he calls the ' grandeur ' of this match ; and, if he had been handled with a greater amount of design, Maria might have had the amount of her fortune doubled — that she might." " Good gracious ! do you thiuk so ? Why, it quite makes one's mouth water — especially me, so poor as I am." He said the last words slowly, and with meaning in the tone of their utterance. " So poor as you are ! why, I thought now you were doing well — were quite free from all care on the score of money matters — is it not so, Creasey ?" aud she fixed him with those great dark eyes, so full of expression — of the weary experiences of a troubled world.

" No, it is not so," he answered in a low voice, and with a certain doggedness of manner which there was no mistaking : " it is very far from being so, I am poor — the poorest man in this room, I'll venture to say— and in such trouble, for want of ready money, that if I don't get some almost immediately I shall be utterly ruined." " Ruined !" she whispered out as it were, so that none could hear but Creasey ; " how often have you come to me with that tale — and yet it never came to pass yet. Why can't you be a man, bold as a man should be, defiant of the troubles and anxieties that will come to us as sure as the sun rises and sets ? Why can't you bow your head to the inevitable, as I and every sensible person does, and accept your destiny, which will come to you all the same whether you resign yourself to it or not ?"

There was something almost grand in the manner of the careworn woman as she thus enunciated the doctrine which she had adopted and made part and parcel of her spiritual life, and the black eyes shone luminously as she told of the Fatalism which was the principle of her existence. He answered her, still with the same low tone they had both unconsciously adopted, shortly, and in truth rather sulkily : " Because I'm not a fool." " Which means that I am ?" "Anything but — I did not mean that — still Fatalism won't keep the bailiffs out of my house." " Bailiffs ! are you in earnest ?" He nodded an affirmative, and went on : " It won't prevent me losing my practice, as well as my commission ; it won't give me the sum I want, and must have — and that at once." "How do you know it won't?" she asked dreamily, for she was thinking of a bygone day when she had heard very similar words to those now falling on her ear.

" Because there is no human being to give it to me — not a soul but one." " And that ?" "Is yourself!" Esther Wyatt started violently backwards in her chair, as though she bad been stung by an adder ; her always pale features turned white ; and the great living eyes sought his in mute in quiry, but found them not, for they were now cast earthwards, powerful as they usually were. "Do you know what you are doing?" she asked in a low intense whisper. " Perfectly," he answered, gulping down a full beaker of champagne ; " I'm asking what I swore I would never ask again as long as either of us lived, and as long as you stuck to your part of the bargain." The wine seemed to have given him factitious moral — or rather immoral — courage, and now he allowed his eyes for a brief second to en counter hers, and then they fell again.

" I have stuck to it, have I not ?" " Yes, certainly, like a brick." " Your money is never even an hour late, is it ?" " No, never." " Then why do you not keep your oath?" He laughed uneasily, and then, with a sort of upward, half-impudent grin, he answered her, " Because I suppose it's my Fate to break it." She cast on him a glance of the most wither ing scorn — a look under which the man seemed to feel himself sinking into the ground, so strong and piercing was it; then she quietly said, "You're a greater fool, Creasey, than I thought you. 1 always knew you were a knave, but I did give you credit for common sense." " That's kind of you, Esther Wyatt. But it seems to me that I have common sense, and it makes me, in despair of other means of saving myself, break that silly oath, and ask your help in my trouble; there's no other way out of it."

"And I say," she answered, with marked emphasis and decision, " that there's no way there. You know just as well as I do that I have not a farthing beyond my annuity, and of that — base as you are, a man, to take it from me, a woman — you have more than your fair share, though it was you, and you only, who persuaded me to the folly whereby nearly all I had was lost." " Not 1 only." "Well, you and your precious partners for robbing the savings of poor women. Will that do better ?" She put the question with exceeding bitter ness, for indeed it was only the truth which she uttered when she accused the doctor of having got hold of her hard-earned money for his own ends, and by nefarious means, that yet were unpunishable. "Pooh! we needn't squabble over words. Suppose I did give you advice that turned out foolish, what of it ?

I'm in trouble again, and I must have money — that's all about it." " And I can't give it to you — I haven't got it and that's all about it." " But you can raise it ? " " 1 cannot, and I will not." " You can, readily enough. Apply to the solicitors ; they will make you an advance, or you can capitalise it." " And hand it all over to Dr. Creasey, and starve," she said, with intense expression, and a deadly calmness of despair, as though some great terror had come down on her soul. "Oh! don't talk rubbish, Esther. There's no ' starving ' about it ; you can throw in your lot with mine, as you have done before, and Avith the portion I don't want — for, after all, a mere fraction of it would set me on my legs again — we can go into the market, and a few lucky speculations will bring us round again, just as we were before."

" I think I heard that sort of thing before," she said ; " but I don't know that the ' lucky speculation ' ever returned us — me, at least — a farthing. In fact, you almost ruined me, and you know it. Besides, the solicitors could do nothing without the consent of — of another person." She seemed to squeeze these words out with pain ; it was like wrenching at a heart-string to utter them. Dr. Creasey looked astonished ; he thought he knew all the ins and outs of her property as well as she did herself, but he was wrong. " Another person ! Who ? You don't mean to say you'd have to get the consent of- She stopped him before he could utter the word that was quivering on his lip. " Of him whose name, even after these years and years of living torture, it cuts me to the heart to mention. I cannot speak it !

For God's sake, if you really are a man, no more of this now I I'm not so strong as I was. Come to me in a few days, and say whatever you have to say, but no more now." So this stem, cold woman, separated, as all her family thought, from every earthly care and trouble, pleaded in the misery brought on her merely by thinking of a name ; and even if Dr. Creasey would, he saw now that he no longer could get her to prolong the undertoned conversation which had so suddenly and so completely destroyed a dream of repose, in one respect, at least, in which Esther Wyatt had been indulging. Just then it was that Fitz allan, unable any longer to endure the conduct of Mrs. Wrigley, had knocked down the chair in his hasty exit from the other end of the room, and in passing he brushed close to Es ther, who seemed to shrink within herself in dread of the contact.

The action was not lost on Creasey, nor was the agonised look of the woman's face, and he asked her, always in the same undertone, " Have you not yet rooted out that old folly ? I thought you had forgotten even the name of Fitzallan — except at quarter-day." She glared at him furiously, so furiously that he absolutely quailed under her glance ; and for the rest of the banquet he confined his attention to the semi-deaf old gentleman who was munch ing on his further side. And Esther Wyatt sat there still and stately as marble, defiant, dead to the world, as it seemed, silent as the tomb, thinking — and if Billy Somerton, considerably elevated as he was by too close attention to his friend " Jules Mumrn," did say: "'Egad, the old lady's like that d d old skeleton, that the what-d'ye call'em fellows had stuck up at their feeds," there were many of much the same opinion, though they probably would have uttered it, if at all, in somewhat choicer language.

In due time the usual outrageous nonsense of wedding breakfasts commenced. Fellows got up and made speeches, and fools of themselves at the same time; bridesmaids blushed and giggled at allusions made to future festivities of the same sort ; men laughed outright, — for, to say the truth, Old Nick's wines began to take very visible effect, — and the dowagers and the chaperons smirked, and grinned, and ogled, and tapped the young men with their fans ; and it ought, no doubt, to be said that "all went merry as a marriage bell," which I take to be the conventional fashion of expressing a satis factory nuptial feast. Jack Paulton did the " happiest day of my Use " business, with per haps fewer inane chuckles than might have been expected ; Maria behaved becomingly, but no one could say that she was in the least af fected by the noble sentiments of her new-made husband, or of the other speakers, for she remained as cool and collected through it all as if she were a third person, quite unconnected with the matter of the hour.

Billy Somerton made a decided hit about the bridesmaids, but whether his success was alto getherascribedto natural talent, or to thefictitious cleverness lent him by " Jules Mumm," must for ever remain a mystery ; only the tradition in the " Eagles " is that Billy transcended himself on that occasion, and never, before or since, has he been known to make a success in the speechi fyiug line. Lady Clara Burton, in spite of the unfortunate accident which placed her next such an unsympathetic companion as Mr. Wrigley, enjoyed the whole affair immensely — from a slightly satirical point of view ; but doubtless her pleasure would have been considerably en hanced had Captain Fitzallan, as they had privately arranged before-hand, succeeded in getting next her at table. " Arranged " is per haps too precise a word to use, and one that Lady Clara might reasonably object to, for there had been no verbal agreement on the subject made.

Nevertheless, after a few moments' con versation on the previous day, it had somehow got into the heads of these two young persons that they were to sit side by side at the wedding feast, and the disturbance of that settlement had no little annoyed both. With Lady Clara the feeling remained but a short time ; she could not help making (mental) fun out of the whole affair, and that process at once distracted her thoughts from the regret first experienced at separation from Fitzallan. Besides that — on the far side from Wrigley — she had a remarkably cheerful companion in Major Kavanagh, who had been bidden to the banquet (in spite of Mrs. Anne Wyatt's prejudices against " rankers "), at the especial request of Jack Paulton, and made himself exceedingly agreeable to Lady Clara. She knew perfectly well the story of his life, VOL. II. c and she honoured and admired the jovial old soldier for the sterling qualities which had led to his success.

From the height at which she stood in society, a grade or two more or less seemed, so far as acquaintanceship went, of the smallest import ance ; and, ranker though he might be in reality, the Major was by nature far more of a gentle man than hundreds of men in the army who thought they had a positive claim to the grand old title, and could indeed hold his own in any society in which he found himself. Had not Lady Clara been told, long ago, that the paymaster had at one time shouldered a mus ket in the ranks, she never would have found it out for herself; and, indeed, with the very closest observation, she could find no difference between him and any other gentleman she had ever met with— except, perhaps, for a slight brogue, to which, naturally, she did not object, but which she rather liked, with a certain pe culiarity of expression, separating him from the common herd.

His manners were as good as those of the Earl, her brother, his mind was as joyous and pure as that of a child, and his good-heartedness beamed out of every wrinkle in his rubicund face. The Major was iu his element. He gloried in big entertainments, and he took the keenest delight in promoting the enjoyment of every body he came in contact with, while his weakness was a too great belief in human goodness, and a too great love of praising everyone up as a miracle of what they ought to be rather than what he really was. Lady Clara's habit was — not from a malicious heart, but from the natural critical spirit of a young girl — just the contrary, and so the two got on famously — the softness of praise of the one being well counteracted by the pleasant crispness of the other — Major Kavanagh all exuberant appreciation, Lady Clara Burton all girlish depreciation; So they joked and made great fun together, and they sparred and fell out, and made it up again, until many of the guests, especially those of the more thoughtful class, believed that they had seldom seen a prettier sight than that presented by the grizzled old soldier defending the whole world against the playful assaults of a brilliant young girl, who pretended, just for c2 the mischief of the thing, to see little of good in any of the surroundings with which she had ever yet come in contact.

Now all that sort of badinage was gall and wormwood to the sober Richard Wrigley. He was possessed with the true puritanical hatred of innocent fun and enjoyment, and he had a special dislike to girlish laughter, which he had brought himself to regard as little better than the deceiving song of the Syren — if, indeed, it was not a regular snare laid by the Evil One. Also, it should be remarked, his pious soul was afflicted with a very particular personal dislike to Lady Clara Burton, and to Major Kavanagh as well — to the first because, in addition to her natural gifts, she happened to be at one and the same time the cherished object of the lives of two of those whom he most disliked (in a Christian way, of course) on the face of the earth — to wit, Colonel Calverley and Captain Fitzallan : to the second, because his jovial nature was totally opposed to the Wrigleian sourness, and, above all, because the Major happened to be a Papist !

Lieutenant Wrigley might perhaps have stomached the society of a follower of Mumbo-Jumbo, of a cannibal from the South-Sea Islands, of a robber or a murder er, or any other bad character, with patience and toleration; but a Papist made his gorge rise, and he never could, as he expressed it him self, abide the company of one given over to the abominations of Rome. Having, then, carefully satisfied the cravings of a wolfish appetite, the worthy man sought about for means to appease his mental hunger for the annoyance of those whom his soul loathed, and he was not long in finding the object of his search. " Don't you think, Lady Clara," he asked, " that this is rather a strange wedding ?" " I've not thought much about it," she quietly answered, in the hope of putting an end to Wrig ley's advances — for she did not at all desire his conversation, having, in sooth, that creeping sort of feeling towards him which some nervous people experience when they come across a spider, a rat, or a toad.

" They seem so unsuited," he went on, " to each other in every way — at least, so it appears in my humble opinion." " How unsuited ?" She could not well refuse to answer the man, and trusted to the chapter of accidents to di vert his attention to some other person than herself. " Well, in birth, in rank, in position — in fact, in everything. Mr. Paulton is a gentleman of first-rate birth, and what is his wife ?" He paused for a reply, and looked at her so earnestly that ber youthful ladyship could hardly help laughing out in the man's face. " She's — his wife, I suppose. Really*, Mr. Wrigley, I don't quite understand you." " What is her position in life, I mean, before this silly wedding of to-day ?" " Well, I suppose she is as good as most of these young ladies in Chorlbury," said Lady Clara, puzzled to know what he was driving at.

" Yes, Lady Clara ; but is she of the same rank as he is ? Will they, in fact, be so suited to one another as to become, what we are taught they ought to be, bone of one bone, flesh of one flesh ? — will they, iu short, be true man and wife ; or is it but one of those horrible marriages of convenience which are now-a-days threatening to wreck the domestic happiness of the hearths of England ?" " Oh ! that's all far beyond me, Mr. Wrigley," she auswered playfully : " I really don't under stand such depths of philosophy. Do you, Major Kavanagh?" " 'Edad, there's precious little philosophy at a wedding, I'm thinking, Lady Clara — it's all real practical downright work, from paying the parson in the morning, to eating and drinking at this farce — a good farce too — called a breakfast, eh?" " I do not see any necessity, Major Kavanagh, for you to combine the functions of the Minister of God and those of the table in one breath," said Wrigley, with his most austere manner.

" Don't you, me boy ? Well, I can't help that, anyhow. But let that be — why should these youug people ' wreck the domestic happiness,' and all the rest of it, any more than others? 'Edad, Jack Paulton's not the man for misery, — is he, Lady Clara ? — or I know nothing about him." " And I know much less," she answered, with a laugh, " not being a member of the ' Eagles' ' mess." Wrigley actually scowled at her levity, but he was determined to punish her, and her present conduct but added another reason for doing so. He said, " There is the inevitable misery of discre pancy of birth ; he is a gentleman, and she is — well, not a lady, anyway." " Faith ! — I beg your pardon, Lady Clara — " She nodded at the Major sweetly, yet warning ]y, her forgiveness — " 'Edad, I don't know that. She looks a lady, if she's not one by birth, and I'm sure she has all the manners of one.

What's amiss with her ?" " If you knew her as well as I do, you would be aware that her manners are far — very far, Lady Clara — from what they might be; and I am sure you, at least, are not one to countenance unequal marriages." So spoke Wrigley. " No, I am not," she answered, very readily ; and the Major, in disgust at Wrigley 's bitterness of tone, and her ladyship's assent to his latest proposition, turned away to talk to hisnext neighbour, Mrs. Pemmican, who rallied him to her heart's content and kept him fully occupied. " And surely this is an unequal one," went on Wrigley. " A gentleman and a factory-girl — nothing else, if we employ plain English ; and I confess their prospects, I won't say of happiness, but of mere content, appear to me to be excessively small." — He lowered his voice. — " Major Kavanagh, of course, is no judge in matters of the sort, being only lately risen from the lowest classes himself.

I suppose you know, Lady Clara, that he is what we call a 'ranker?'" " I do," she said, " and I'm sorry for it ; he's a dear old man, and quite as much a gentleman in mind as though he had been born one. Do you know, Mr. Wrigley, I'm quite fond of him ?" " Oh ! Lady Clara, there's nothing surprising in your finding him with all the outside appear ances of a gentleman — they pick that up won derfully fast — and there are instances, even in our own regiment, of men, come from even a lower sphere than the Major, who have all the surface polish of complete gentility. I could name one person whose case would startle you — one you know well." " Do I indeed, Mr. Wrigley ? A lady or gentleman?" "A gentleman." "Well, I'd rather not hear any unpleasant stories," she said, repressing a natural and great curiosity, for the reason that she did not choose to have even the appearance of confidences with such a man as this Wrigley ; " let me find out for myself who these people you tell me of are — but, I confess to being curious about this ' gentleman ' — what's the matter with him, who ever he may be?