How Like a Woman! A novel

Front matter

y vol. hi. a NEW THREE VOLUME NOVELS AT ALL THE LIBRARIES. A Daughter os Mystery. By Jessie Krikorian. Author of ' Spoken in Anger,' ' A Knave and a Fool,' etc. 2 vols. , crown 8vo, price 21s. The Island of Fantasy. By Fergus Hume, Author of 'The Mystery of a Hansom Cab,' 'Monsieur Judas," etc. 3 vols., crown 8vo, price 31s. 6d. 'The author's most successful work hitherto published.' — World. No Compromise. By Helen F. Hetherington and the Rev. H. Darwin Burton, Authors of ' Paul Nugent.' 3 vols., crown 8vo, price 31s. fid. 1 The novel is one of conspicuous power. The narrative is rich in incident. The dialogue is always clever, never dull.' — Scotsman. His Sister's Hand. : By C. J. Wills. 3 vols., crown 8vo, second edition/price" 31s.* 6d. ' We can only advice 'jiotfel-rc-aderg to take their fill, as soon as may be, of the feast provided.'— \AAkenœilm.

J,-^V; A Covenant with the Dead. By Clara Lemore, Author of 'A Harvest of Weeds.' 3 vols., crown 8vo, price 31s. 6d. ' Really an admirable novel of its kind. ... A thoroughly workman like and satisfactory performance.' — Spectator, GRIFFITH, FARRAN, & CO., London. A NO V E L BY FLORENCE MARRYAT AUTHOR OF 'A FATAL SILENCE,' ETC, ETC. ' Woman's at best a contradiction still.' — Pope. IN THREE VOLUMES VOL. III. LONDON. GRIFFITH FARRAN & COMPANY NEAVBERY HOUSE, 39 CHARING CROSS ROAD CCCC : G. c. & co. : 8.92. The Rights of Translation and of Reproduction are reserved. CONTENTS.

Chapter I. The Family Escutcheon

Miss Saltoun did not really consider it necessary to let his Grace the Duke of Craig-Morris know of the agreement she had entered into with Lord Vivian ; on the contrary, she did not intend to tell him a word about it. She knew that in such a case he would never leave her alone until she had decided to marry her suitor. But she had, as we have seen, an immense respect and reverence for her father's family, as a family, and she considered it was due to the head of it that she should not pass through vol. hi. A ■o London without paying him a visit ; added to which, Rachel Saltoun felt very lonely, restless, and undecided at this period of her life. She clung to the old landmarks as she had never clung before, and experi enced a feeling of safety in the presence of her relations, which left her as soon as she quitted them.

She felt a comfort from Miss Montrie's little fussy attentions and coddlings, which she could not have believed possible ; they used to irritate and annoy her ; now she almost courted them ; but she started to visit her grandfather by her self. There was still the pride of race hanging about her to make her consider it more convenable that this interview with the Duke should be strictly private. She had not been used to confide in her grandfather. There was not much sympathy or affection between them, yet there was no telling what he might wish to say to her on this occasion. So, dressed very becom- The Family Escutcheon. 3 ingly in one of her new autumn costumes, Rachel started for the Duke's chambers in Pall Mall. She had naturally often been there before, and she had known the Duke's own man, Eaton, since she had been a child.

She was, therefore, rather surprised to see the startled look with which he greeted her appearance, and to hear the mysterious answers he made to her inquiries after her grandfather. ' Grandpapa is at home, of course, Eaton ? ' she said confidently, as she descended from the cab. ' Well, miss, his Grace is within, but I am not sure if he can receive you.' 'Is he ill?' exclaimed Rachel. ' Oh, no, miss ; his Grace is pretty much the same as usual, but — ' ' Not dressed yet, I suppose ? I thought I should have found him up by eleven. However, I will wait till he is ready.' And she made a movement as though to go upstairs, but the servant placed himself before her and said, in a very deferential manner, — ' Miss Rachel, miss, pardon me, but please let me go up first and inform his Grace that you are here ; he is particularly engaged this morning, and gave the strictest orders that he was not to be disturbed.

Will you go back and sit in the cab, miss, till his Grace is ready to see you ? ' ' No, Eaton ; but I will stay here till you have spoken to my grandfather. Of course, if he is really too busy to see me, I will return in the afternoon ; but tell him I start for the Continent to-morrow, and have no time to spare.' She was aware that the Duke's financial affairs were not always in the most satisfac tory condition, and thought it not impro bable that money-lenders, or stockbrokers, or some such convenient acquaintances, were The Faniily Escutcheon. 5 occupied in discussing with his Grace the best means of getting out of some monetary trouble. At her bidding, Eaton disappeared, and, after a considerable delay, returned with the message that, since Miss Saltoun's time in England was so short, the Duke would receive her at once.

Rachel followed him briskly to her grand father's presence, and entered the little room with a quick, firm tread. There was a determination of purpose, and a sharp ness of intuition about this young woman, that made the Duke, at times, a little afraid of her, and as she glanced round on entering, his eye followed hers nervously. The old man was still clad in his furred dressing-o-own, an(j seated at his breakfast table close to the fire, and looked pinched, put out, and peevish. ' Well, grand-dad,' exclaimed Rachel, as she laid her smooth cheek for a moment against his wrinkled one, which looked like a piece of shrivelled leather, ' got rid of your friends, eh? I hope my coming has not inconvenienced you ? ' 'It is always inconvenient to receive visitors in the morning,' replied the Duke, who appeared to be rather more grumpy and unamiable than usual, ' especially for a bachelor.

You should write beforehand when you wish to see me. I have told you so several times.' ' Well, I am not the first visitor this morning, at any rate,' said Rachel, point ing to another cup and saucer and some plates, which Eaton had removed hastily to a side-table 'and I had no opportunity to write to you, grand-dad. I only arrived in town last evening, and I leave to-morrow by the mid-day boat from Dover.' ' And what is this mad scheme of going on the Continent, that Eaton mentioned to me ? Who are you running after now ? Do you travel alone ? ' ' Now, grandfather, is it likely ? ' demanded Rachel. ' When have you ever known me do such a thing ? My old companion, Miss Montrie, travels with me, as chaperon.' ' Oh ! you've gone back to her now, have you ? ' snarled the Duke. ' Yes. And I am very sorry I ever gave her up ; I made a very bad exchange.

I suppose you have heard that I dismissed Mrs Cranley before I went to Scarborough. Uncle Henry warned me against her, and I was a fool not to take his advice.' 'You generally are a fool, my dear,' replied the old gentleman, in the same pleasant voice. ' And, pray, as you were at Scarborough, why didn't you stay there ? ' Rachel could not understand the tone her grandfather adopted to her. He had never been cordial, nor genial, but to-day he seemed positively ferocious, and his temper roused her spirit, always too quick to take offence at anything like con tradiction. 'Why didn't I stay there?' she echoed. ' Because I chose to come away. I suppose I am not bound to stay in one watering place all the season, any more than I am bound to keep the same companion all my life. I am afraid you must have a fit of the gout coming on, grand-dad.

How ever, the chief reason for my change of plan is that Miss Montrie had an attack of rheumatic fever this summer, which has left her very crippled, and I am going to take her to Aix-les-Bains, to see what the baths can do for her. That is the only thing which I have settled at present.' ' And does Mr Salter go with you ? ' asked the Duke, with a sneer. At first Rachel could not believe her ears, and though her face flushed crimson, she bent forward, as though to listen. ' Who did you say ? ' she demanded. ' I thought I spoke plain enough,' replied her grandfather. ' I said the artist fellow — Salter, or whatever his name is. Is he to be one of the travelling party ? ' Rachel's sudden colour all faded away. ' Do you mean to insult me ? ' she said, in a low voice. 'Insult you? What insult is there in putting a simple question ?

The young man was down at Catherstone, almost living in your house, for a couple of months, during which time you were with him alone from morning till night. Would it be any worse if he travelled in your company abroad ? I thought you might be bent on a sketching tour together, since you seem so fond of each other.' ' Stop ! ' cried Rachel, vehemently. ' Don't try me too far, grandfather, or I may say something that you won't like. Who has told you all this ? Who has dared to try and come between us ? But why need I ask the question, when I know the answer? It is that demon, Kate Cranley, who has done it out of revenge for her just dismissal for the bold manner in which she behaved towards the very man you are alluding to.' ' Don't speak against Mrs Cranley to me, Rachel,' interposed the Duke. ' She is a very good little woman, and the daughter of one of my oldest friends, Jim Aubyn, the best fellow that ever donned a gown.

You may not have got on together — women seldom do. But I bet it wasn't her fault, and I won't hear you say so.' ' Well, if you like to take her part against that of your own grandchild, do. But, however good she may be in your eyes, she will never disgrace Catherstone with her presence again. You may take my word for that.' 'Disgrace, indeed!' exclaimed the Duke, warmly. ' And which was the greater disgrace, I wonder ; even supposing your story to be true, that she, an obscure, dependent girl, should flirt with a man who is her equal, or that you, a Saltoun, the descendant of nobles, the heiress of the Norreys, should stoop to associate with an artist, to make friends with a painter, a fellow whom you agreed with, for so many pounds, to daub the walls of your house ? Why, you ought to be ashamed to look me in the face, and own it.' ' Why should I be ashamed ?

What have I done wrong ? Mr Salter is a gentleman.' ' Pshaw ! A gentleman ! You will tell me that Eaton is a gentleman next — or my tailor.' ' And so I should, if they disdained to do dishonourable deeds that a Duke stooped to. But there is no comparison between them and Mr Salter, who is not only a gentleman by profession and manners, but raised above his fellows by a transcendent genius.' ' Transcendent fiddlesticks. Did that justify you in spending whole days alone with him, gazing into his eyes, and listening to any twaddle he might choose to tell you ? Ah, you needn't look at me like that. You have plenty of spirit, I daresay, miss, but you got it from me. Do you suppose I have not heard of your goings on ? You are a disgrace to your family — to the name of Saltoun, and the sooner you change it, I say, the better.' ' I shall not change it at your request, you may be sure of that,' retaliated the girl ; ' and when I do, it will be to please myself and not my family.

You are most unjust to me, grandfather. I deny each one of your accusations. I have done nothing to blush for, nor behaved in any way unbecoming my father's daughter, and you will have to ask my pardon for the insult you have offered The Familv Escutcheon. 13 me before I consent to speak to you again.' ' / ask your pardon ? ' cried the Duke, angrily. ' Pray, am I not to say what I choose to my own grandchild ? I repeat that you have disgraced our name (to say the least of it) to carry on a flirtation with this unknown fellow, of whose birth, I suppose, you are not even aware, and that if you don't drop it — yes, I mean what I say — if you don't (once and for all) drop this man's acquaintance, I shall consider it my duty to acquaint your uncles with the facts of the case, and request them to kick Mr — what s his name ? — Salter, into the middle of next week.

You can never make these sort of fellows understand unless you do kick them.' Rachel Saltoun's lip curled. She was trembling all over with suppressed excitement and anger, but she rose to her feet and stood opposite to the Duke, supporting herself by one hand on the table. ' I fancy,' she said with clenched teeth, 4 that if either of my noble uncles attempt to follow your instructions, they will find Mr Salter can give as good as he takes. He is a very muscular young man, in the prime of life, and I don't think it would take him lonoto make either Uncle Albert or Uncle o Vesey " see fireworks." Don't try it, grand dad ; you might be responsible for their lives. I had not any present intention of seeing Mr Salter again. His work at Catherstone is finished, and we parted without making any engagement for the future.

But, since you choose to believe, any idle tale that a woman like Mrs Cranley may bring you, it behoves me to prove you are in the wrong ; and I shall take the earliest opportunity of asking him to visit me again. You will find it an unprofitable business to try and interfere with my acquaintances. When I have disgraced my name, it will be time enough for my relations to believe it.' And, with one proud look of offence, Rachel turned on her heel and left the room. But, when she had hurried down stairs and was in the street again, wondering vaguely what she had better do next, a kind of repentance came over her. After all, she said to herself, her grandfather was a very old man. He would be seventy-four on his next birthday, and she was going abroad, and they might never meet again. She was afraid her speeches had been rather rude and abrupt.

It was her way when anyone hurt her pride ; and if that wretch, Kate Cranley, had really told him all he said to her, one could hardly blame him for believing it. And at this juncture a feeling of shame overcame Rachel Saltoun. For (when all was said and done) were the Duke's accusations untrue? It was horrid of Mrs Cranley, of course, to have repeated the story, and she had evidently done so from a mean desire for revenge. But, were Hozu like a Woman. Rachel put on her oath, could she deny it ? This remembrance made her retrace the few steps she had taken in the direction of St James's Street, and enter once more the vestibule of her grandfather's chambers. It was empty. Eaton was nowhere to be seen ; so, without ringing the bell, she ran upstairs, and abruptly opened the door. ' Grand-dad,' she commenced ; but she got no further, for there — seated at the Duke of Craig- Morris's breakfast - table, sipping her coffee with the utmost com placency, and dressed in a rose - coloured peignoir, with her dark hair streaming loose upon her shoulders, was — Kate Cranley.

Rachel started back at first in utter as tonishment, a feeling which was evidently shared by the couple before her ; but, the next moment, she had guessed the truth. She had been very carefully sheltered from the knowledge of evil, and vice in its coarser forms, had never been presented to her view. But she must have been worse than a fool not to know what the sight before her meant. She gazed for a minute at the negli gently-attired figure of Kate Cranley with the utmost scorn, and then turned like a fury upon the Duke of Craig-Morris. ' And it is you ! ' she exclaimed — 'you, who keep that woman here to your own shame and mine, who dare to accuse me of forgetting what is due to my family, and to myself! You have let her wicked tongue traduce your son's child to you, and have been too blind to see that she was trying to whiten her own foul fame by blackening mine.' ' Rachel !

Rachel ! ' cried the old man, ' you should not break in upon me thus without any warning. Go away, my dear child, at once, and do not come back until I send for you.' Even though he was angry with Rachel, VOL. III. b and befooled by Mrs Cranley, the Duke's pride of his family honour overcame all other considerations. 'Come back again!' she repeated, wither ingly. ' Never, until you have purged this place of the taint of that woman's presence. You may make your mind easy about that, grandfather. But never presume to speak to me again about lowering my family. Whatever I may be led to do in the future (and you may rely it will be nothing but what my conscience will approve to itself), remember what I have seen this day, and do not dare to express an opinion on my conduct, one way or the other.' She turned and quitted the room again, but the Duke came out on the landings in his furred dressing-gown, and tried to con ciliate her. ' Rachel, my dear,' he said, in a quaver ing voice, ' you mustn't think too badly of your old grand-dad.

This little breakfast for instance. It is quite an accident, you know ; and not an unusual thing for a young lady to offer to pour out his coffee for a solitary old man like me.' ' Oh, don't talk to me ! ' cried Rachel, impatiently, with a contemptuous gesture of her shoulders. ' But, my dear,' persisted the Duke, as he laid a detaining hand upon her arm, ' I should not like the story of this little con tretemps to be circulated in the family. My conduct might be altogether misinterpreted People are always ready to believe the worst of a man in my position. I may trust you not to repeat it to Sir Henry Mordaunt, for example.' ' I am too much ashamed of it to repeat it to anyone, grandfather,' said the girl, in a sorrowful voice ; ' it is too overwhelmingly terrible to me. I wish I could forget I had ever seen it.

And /, too, who have been so foolishly proud of my family honour.' 'Oh, this has nothing to do with the family honour,' rejoined the Duke, fretfully. 4 You are too young, my dear ; you do not understand. No one would attribute worse than folly to a man of my age for being still weak enough to succumb to the charms of your adorable sex.' As her grandfather delivered this speech, with a desperate attempt at appearing gallant, Rachel looked at him with ineffable scorn. 4 And you are the one,' she said, ' who, but a few minutes ago, was lecturing me for a supposed flirtation with an honourable man, as though I had degraded myself, because he may not carry four quarterings on his family escutcheon. Why, I'd rather marry an honest tailor, who had never done anything to blush for, than a king, if he could arrive at your age — seventy-four on your next birthday, grandfather — with no better sense of his responsibilities and the duty he owes to God, to his family, and his unblemished lineage.' And with this parting shot, Rachel flew down the staircase, and out at the open door.

The Duke of Craig-Morris stood where she had left him, dazed and dumfoundered. ' I'm afraid I've made a mess of it,' he soliloquised, scratching the back of his neck, after a fashion he had when he was perplexed. ' Who ever would have thought the vixen would have bounced back again in that fashion, without a moment's warn ing ? Now, every mad freak she may take it in her head to play, she will lay at my door. I shall never hear the last of the damage I have done to the family escutcheon.' And Kate Cranley had a mauvais quart d'heure when he re-entered the breakfast room, for having appeared upon the scene before the coast had been declared by the faithful Eaton to be entirely clear.

Chapter II. Rachel Argues

Rachel did not go straight back to the hotel after that interview with the Duke of Craig-Morris. She wanted time to think, space to breathe in, action to calm down her perturbed spirit. She had been shocked, disgusted, degraded. She knew her grandfather to be an irre ligious and worldly man, but she had not believed him capable of open and flagrant immorality. And at his age, too — seventy four! How it seemed to have pulled down, in one moment, all the respect she had tried to build up about his name, and to leave — instead of the worthy wearer of a ducal coronet, the head of an ancient family, and the progenitor of a numerous generation — a wretched, gibbering, old ape — the mummy of a man, a jest for boys, and a horror to all modest women. She did not intend to say a word of what she had seen to any one.

She had rightly told the Duke she was too heartily ashamed of it. But it made her feel, somehow, as if he had disconnected himself from her by the morning's discovery — as if she had lost her grandfather for ever. Of the partner of his crime, Rachel did not think at all. She was beneath even her condemnation. She remembered the scene in the drawing-room at Catherstone, and felt that Mrs Cranley was one of those ladies who are " all things to all men," and not worth a second thought. She was old enough to go her own way, and she had chosen the way to ruin. It would not be long, Rachel felt, as she recalled her grandfather's dread of discovery, before she was on the world again, without a character or a home. Miss Saltoun was in a cab as she pondered on these things, and she suddenly directed the driver to take her to the Inter national Fur Company's Offices in Regent Street.

The little round figure of Miss Montrie had flashed across her mind, and it seemed at that moment as if she were the only friend that she possessed. She would buy dear old Montrie a fur-lined travelling cloak to keep her rheumatic shoulders warm. It would be some panacea for the pain she was mentally enduring, to see the delight of the old lady at its reception. So the warm-hearted and impulsive girl pulled over half the wraps in the shop — finally fixing on an opossum-lined circular, that made a good hole in a twenty pound note — and proceeded to drive home with her purchase. If Miss Montrie's surprise and pleasure could have healed the wound in Rachel's heart, it would never have suffered more. As she entered the hotel sitting-room, and threw the wrap on the table, exclaiming — ' There, dear old lady, what do you think of that ? ' her companion gave vent to a startled note of admiration. ' Oh, my dear, how beautiful ! ' she ejacu lated, rubbing her fat little fingers in the thick fur ; ' what a magnificent cloak !

The most sensible thing for travelling you could have.' ' I'm glad you think so. But it isn't for me ; it's for you.' ' For me, Rachel ? The poor woman could say no more. Her young employer's generosity and fore thought overcame her. She drooped her head upon the opossum cloak, whilst tears fell from her eyes. ' Don't you like it ? ' said Rachel. ' Like it ! Oh, my dear girl, what can I say to you ? I cannot find the words. You are too good — too generous to me. You lay me under too heavy a debt of gratitude. And such a magnificent present, too ! I have never worn anything so hand some in my life before.' 'You will look like a fillet of veal on castors, when you are bundled up in it,' said Rachel, brusquely, in an effort to dis pense with Miss Montrie's thanks ; ' but I thought it would keep you warm and cosy on the journey.' ' I have done nothing to deserve such generosity at your hands,' continued the old lady brokenly ; ' no one but yourself would have taken me back, crippled and useless as I am.

I feel so much how unfit I am to be the companion of a bright young creature like yourself. I can do so little to repay your kindness.' 'You can be my friend: replied Rachel, in a low voice, 'and that is all I ask of you. I have so few friends, Miss Montrie. I have proved it since we parted, and have often thought what a fool I was, not to appreciate you more. But we will never part again, unless it is by your own wish ; I promise you that. Whether I eventu ally marry or remain single, your home shall be with me ; and, if I die first, I will see you are not left unprovided for.' ' My dear, dear girl ! That will be quite unnecessary. I have always worked for my bread. I can do so still.' ' What ! with those poor, twisted fingers, of which I feel myself to be half the cause ? For, had you not left Catherstone, you would not have caught rheumatic fever.

You shall not have the opportunity of doing it again, dear Miss Montrie, for your future life will be my care.' As she spoke thus, and her grey eyes shone luminously, with divine compassion and sympathy on her old companion's face, Miss Montrie was suddenly inspired to say, — ' Rachel, my love ! what has come to you since we parted ? What has effected this astounding change ? dear, for mentioning always loved you, you feel for other people's as all this.' Forgive me, my it, but, though I were not given to troubles so keenly ' What has come to girl, pushing her hair me ? ' repeated the off her forehead as she was used to do whilst thinking ; and though a flush rose to her cheeks, her eyes were very sad. 'Why! I've had trouble myself, for one thing, and it has cleared many of the mists off my soul.

I hardly believed in anything at one time, Miss Montrie, but I see more clearly now. And I feel there is no happiness in this world except that which comes from trying to make other people happy. There is none for ourselves. None ! ' she repeated, emphatically, as her sad eyes met those of Miss Montrie. ' My dear ! I don't like to hear you talk like that. One would fancy you were an old woman like me, and your day was past. All your life is before you, Rachel, and I hope there is a lot of happiness in it. What would Lord Vivian say to hear you speak so despondently ? ' ' Oh ! don't mention the man's name ! ' cried Rachel, as she caught up the hat and gloves she had removed, and prepared to leave the room ; ' I shall never marry him, Miss Montrie. The longer I am away from him, the more unpleasant the prospect of marrying him appears.

I may as well write and tell him so at once. It will never come to pass.' ' Well, I won't say any more,' said Miss Montrie, smiling ; ' for you know he has got me into a scrape before now. But whoever gets you will be a very lucky man, Rachel.' ' Do you think so ? I don't,' replied the girl, as she disappeared. After luncheon, the subject of the Duke of Craig-Morris was introduced, and Miss Montrie asked Rachel if she had paid a pleasant visit in Pall Mall. Miss Saltoun's face clouded over. 'Not at all,' she answered; 'grand-dad was cross and grumpy, and as usual we came to loggerheads. We never meet without quarrelling.' 'He is a very old man, dear. Perhaps he was seeling ill.' ' Oh ! he was well enough, the old sinner. But we are antipathetic. We cannot agree. He wants to rule me in everything, and I won't be ruled.' ' What did his Grace say with regard to Lord Vivian ?