A Passing Madness

Front matter

FLORENCE MARRYAT'S NOVELS. Cheap Editions. In Handsome Cloth Gilt Binding, 2s. 6d. each. Miss Harrington's Nelly Brooke. Veronique. Husband. Mount Eden. Her Lord and Master. The Prey of the Gods. The Girls of Foversham. Mad Dumaresq. Gerald Estcourt Love's Conflict. Too Good for Him. Woman against Woman. Por Ever and Ever. No Intentions. Petronel. London: HUTCHINSON & CO., 34, Paternostek Row. BV Florence Marryat AUTHOR OF "HOW LIKE A WOMAN", "PARSON JONES", "THE DREAM THAT STAYED", ETC, ETC., ETC. Xon&on 1S97 HUTCHINSON & CO. 34 PATERNOSTER ROW PRINTED AT N1MEGUEN (HOLLAND) BY H. C. A. THIEMK OF N1MEGUEN (HOLLAND) AND 27 SHOE LANE, LONDON, E.C.

Chapter I

The dusk of a stormy April evening had fallen earlier than usual on the houses in the square and wrapped them almost in darkness. The rain still blew in gusts against the window-panes, and the tall, dark tenements looked down frown ingly upon the dreary strip of grass in their midst, which twelve hours' continuous rain had converted into something very like a duck pond. The hands of the drawing-room clock stood at twenty minutes to seven, and as Mrs. Marshall perceived the time she rose from her chair, and with the nervous, uncertain step of an invalid, made her way towards the door. She knew that in another five minutes the first gong would sound for dinner, and she had a holy horror of that gong, with its harsh, ear piercing clang — it was so like the loud, authori tative voice of her stepdaughter, Joan; and yet she had not the moral courage to object to either.

The gong made her clap her hands to the ears that quivered under its brazen tones, and Joan's voice, even when not unkindly, made her start and tremble ; but the decided accents were only part of Joan's usual manner, and the brazen gong was one of her institutions, and Mrs. Marshall felt she had as little right to interfere with one as with the other. She ascended the wide staircase leading to her own apartment, clinging to the balusters as she went, and lighted by a colossal female figure in bronze, which held a vestal torch upon the landing. But as she reached her room she found it in semi-darkness. The secret of all this was that the house Mrs. Marshall lived in, by the request of her late husband, was not her own, but belonged to her stepchildren, Joan and Edward Marshall, who were twins, and had inherited their mother's fortune in equal shares.

Their stepmother and half-sister, Hilda, had but a small maintenance in comparison with themselves, and though she contributed her share to the expenses of the household, Mrs. Marshall felt bound to economise in every possible way. So she never had the gas lighted in her bedroom until she actually required it. As she gained her sanctum she closed the door softly behind her — Mrs. Marshall never did anything roughly or loudly— and having procured the matches from the mantelpiece, she advanced to the dressing-table for the purpose of illuminating the room. But before she reached the gas lamp she came to a dead halt, as if her foot steps had been arrested by some force ulterior to her own. By the toilet-table stood an armchair, and Mrs. Marshall's eyes fixed themselves on this chair as though her eyeballs were being projected from her head.

As she stood thus, one or two faint sounds, more like moans than articulate speech, escaped her; but she remained motionless, and, apparently, more awestruck than alarmed. After the space of a few seconds, however, the sight or sound, or whatever it may have been, that had interested her, appeared to die away, for she ceased to stare at the armchair, and taking a few steps backwards sank into another seat, and closing her eyes, leant back feebly on the cushions. The hateful gong was clanging out in the hall beneath by this time, but Mrs. Marshall seemed indifferent to all outward things as she reclined with closed eyelids, breathing gaspingly, as if she had received a great shock. The first thing that roused her to a sense of her position was the voice of her daughter Hilda outside the door, asking for admittance.

It was a fresh young joyous voice, and brought Mrs. Marshall's wandering senses back to the world at once. "Yes — yes, dear; come in by all means," she said in answer; and in another moment Hilda Marshall had entered the room. She was the picture of a healthy, blooming English girl of eighteen — just budding into perfect womanhood, sound in mind and body, as old Dr. Macey was fond of telling her, with large, soft hazel eyes and an abundance of fine brown hair, a roseleaf complexion, and a graceful, girlish figure, with dainty hands and feet. Hilda used to laugh and say she was " nowhere" beside her handsome sister Joan ; but there were many people besides old Dr. Macey who thought her far the prettier and more lovable of the two. She was devoted to her widowed mother, who hardly lived out of her presence, and had no will but Hilda's. Mrs. Marshall was one of those unfortunate people, a chronic invalid, without a tangible complaint to demand compassion for — the most trying sort of people sometimes, even to those who love them best; and lately she had become more fanciful than usual— or so her daughters imagined — and Hilda was the only one who had any patience with her illusions.

Now as she entered the unlighted room she called out cheerily: " Why, how is this, mother ? Not lighted your gas yet! Do you know that it is nearly seven ? Your friend the second gong will sound in another minute. Have you been dreaming, dear old thing, in the dark, all by yourself?" She lit the gas as she spoke, but was horrified at the sight it revealed. Mrs. Marshall was as pale as ashes, and shaking in every limb. " Why, dearest mother, what is this? Are you ill?" she inquired as she knelt down beside her chair. " No — no, Hilda, but — I — I have seen it again! " She clutched hold of her daughter's arm as she spoke, and clung to her as a child might cling to its mother. " Seen what again ? " demanded Hilda, incredu lously. "That — that of which I have told you before — your father! No, Hilda, don't look like that!

It is as true as I sit here. I entered the room without the least idea of see ing anything, and there he sat in his armchair, just as he used to do in life, but looking— oh ! so sad, as if he longed to speak to me, but had no power. What can it mean ? " "Dear mother," replied Hilda, as she em braced her, " don't talk such nonsense ! You know it is only some chimera of your brain ; Dr. Macey told you so himself. You are not strong, poor darling ! and you sit so much alone, brooding over father's loss, until it is quite natural you should imagine that you see him. But it is only fancy, you know. You cannot seriously believe that dear father would leave Heaven, or wherever he may be, to come back to this wretched old world. Try to forget it, dear mother. It is due to your sight, or your nerves, or something; but it is not father himself, rest assured of that."

" Hilda, it was he. If I ever saw him in life, I saw him to-night." Her daughter was too wise and kind to argue the matter further with her. "Well, dearest," she said, "and if it 'Were he, he did not frighten you, did he? If he comes back, it can only be to show you how much he still loves you and thinks of you< Now let me help you to change your dress for dinner, or we shall be late, and that always puts Joan out, you know." " If I only thought he came for that I should not mind it," observed Mrs. Marshall, as hef daughter helped her to assume her dinner dress; " but he looks so sad, Hilda, just as if he were grieved or angry, though he never was angry with me, dear love ! Can I have done anything to grieve him, or can there be anything that he wishes me to do? Think. Hilda, think — for I would not grieve my dear lost husband for all the world." •• .: The earnestness of her address would have made many daughters lose patience with her.; but Hilda only made it an excuse for renewed affection.

"No, darling, of course not," she said; kissing her. " When did you ever do anything to make father angry with you? Why, no two people could have loved each other more ! " • "So I believe — so I think," rejoined her mother eagerly ; " but then, why should my poor dear seem so sad? Sometimes, Hilda, I worry myself by thinking he may see Joan's manner to you and me, and regrets he did not leave us more independent of her." "But you mustn't get such ideas into your head, mother. Father did the best he could for all of us, and has nothing to reproach himself with. He couldn't leave us what was not his to give, you know; and I think Joan's unpleasant manner is often due to the fact that she resents her money and Edward's coming to me in case of my surviving them. But it is very foolish of her, as she is just as likely to survive me.

But I am sure she says a great deal more than she means, and would be really unhappy if we did not live with her and Ted. You know that all her thoughts are wrapped up in him ; she thinks there is no one like him, and is ready to resent any slight, fancied or otherwise, shown to him. She took me to task nicely this morning because I said he had been acting very inconsiderately of late in absenting himself from home without giving any reason for his conduct." "You are right there, Hilda, but we must always make the best of Joan, for her father's sake. She was a greater trial to him than she is to us. But I need not caution you on that score. Sometimes I marvel how you can bear with her as you do. She has a very unfortu nate temper, and never seems to try to con trol it." "And it has been worse than usual lately.

Edward's strange conduct has put her out so. She fancies his frequent absences from home are due to some outer influence, and Joan will brook no rival near her throne." " But that is very silly of her. Edward was twenty-eight on his last birthday, and with his fortune nothing is more likely than that he should take it into his head to marry. And it would be the best thing for him, into the bargain. " " Oh, mamma, I advise you not to tell Joan so, " cried Hilda, laughing, " or she will be indignant. She told me once that she would kill the woman who dared to marry Ted, and I really believe she is capable of doing so. She is so terribly jealous of him. But there is the second gong ! Let us go downstairs together; and promise me, dear mother, you will neither think of this delusion of yours concerning father more than you can help, nor mention what you think you have seen before Joan, for she has no faith in anything of the sort, and can be so merciless when she takes it into her head to ridicule what she cannot understand."

Mrs. Marshall readily promised what her daughter required of her, and, linked arm-in arm, they entered the dining-room together. Joan Marshall was in the room as they appeared, standing in the recess of the bay win dow, and gazing out into the darkness of the square. She was of the magnificent order of woman hood. Her age was eight-and-twenty (there were just ten years between her and her half sister Hilda); her figure was fully developed, and was tall, erect, and rounded. Her black hair was coiled in plaits about her shapely head ; her eyes, of the darkest blue, were beautiful, both in shape and size, but apt to be too fierce for a woman ; her complexion, of a pale olive, seldom looked pale for the rich blood which coursed through it as she gave vent to her varied emotions. She had rather large hands and feet, being massively built altogether, but they did not look too large for her size.

In fact, she was a young Juno, and her disposition suited her appearance. She was of a proud, overbearing, jealous temperament, had a passionate temper and a domineering manner. As a child of ten years old she had frightened the meek stepmother to whom her father had introduced her, and she had not grown gentler with the passing years. But with all her unpleasant disposition Joan could love madly and warmly where her af fections were aroused, and at present she was heart and soul devoted to her twin brother Edward. He was neither so good-looking nor so amenable to kindness as his sister, but he was her idol. For him she would do anything, and who ever disliked him or remonstrated with him on his behaviour became her bitterest enemy. Of late this young man — who, being (unfortunately for himselr) the possessor of a large fortune, had been brought up to no profession — had been giving his friends some uneasiness by staying away from home without any apparent reason, which had aroused all kinds of suspi cions in the mind of his sister, who was always jealously on the look-out for a rival in his affection.

To explain the peculiar position of the brother and sister with regard to their step mother, it must be premised that they were the children of Mr. Edward Marshall by his first wife, who had brought him a large fortune and left it to him unconditionally. On his own death, therefore (having married again in the interim, and become the father of Hilda), Mr. Marshall left their mother's money, which amounted to some ten thousand pounds a year, to his twin children, with the reversion of it to their sister Hilda, in case of either or both dying before she did. To his widow he had only the savings of his profession to be queath — a bequest which made her and her daughter independent to the extent of a few hundreds a year; but he coupled it with a request that both Hilda and Mrs. Marshall should find a home with Joan and Edward, as long as both remained unmarried.

Up to the time this story opens, therefore, a couple of years after the father's death, the family had resided together in the house in Russell Square, where we first meet them, and which belonged to Joan and Edward in their mother's right, and not a word had ever been breathed that the arrangement was not perfectly satisfactory to all parties. As Mrs. Marshall and Hilda entered the dining-room on the present occasion, they found Joan, as has been said, gazing through the unshuttered window into the darkness, as though she were watching for her brother's return. They seated themselves in their usual places at table, but she did not quit her position. " How the rain pours ! " she observed as she perceived them ; " and just now there was a flash of lightning. I believe we are going to have a regular storm.

What weather to be out in ! " " Is Edward not in yet ? " demanded her stepmother " Well ! I should think you might see that ! " retorted Joan sharply. " If he had been at home he would have been with me. Wilson," she continued to the butler, " it is of no use sending up dinner till your master returns. You had better tell the cook to put it back for half an hour." The servants, who were all ready to serve the soup, stood at the sideboard, seemingly not knowing what to do. " But the soup is here, miss," observed Wilson. "Well, take it down again," replied his mistress; "I, for one, shall take no dinner until Mr. Marshall is home." Hilda glanced at her mother, who was looking weak and exhausted. "If that is to be the case," she said, "you must give mamma a glass of sherry and a biscuit, Wilson, for I am sure she cannot wait much longer." ."

What's the matter with her ? " demanded Joan; "is she ill?" " No ; but she has been worried this afternoon, and she ate nothing at luncheon. I am very sorry for her sake that dinner has to be put off for Ted's unpunctuality. " "Oh! of course, Ted is in the wrong," retorted Joan sarcastically; "he always is." "Wrong or not, he certainly shows very little consideration for us when bent on his own pleasure. By the way, is this not the night for Madame Zamelli's concert, Joan? And I see now you are dressed for it. You will miss it, I am afraid, as you did the recital last Tuesday afternoon." "Well, if I do it will be my own loss," replied Joan. Music was the art in which the twins most delighted. They were both good musicians. Edward had a splendid baritone voice, and understood perfectly how to use it; whilst his sister was a proficient on the piano, to which he often accompanied her on the violin.

They always had an opera-box during the season, and attended all the best concerts together. An evening of music in the company of her twin-brother was Joan Marshall's greatest enjoyment, and she was more vexed on the present occasion than she chose to confess. " Oh, never mind the concert ! " she exclaimed fretfully ; " all my anxiety is to know what has detained dear Ted. He would not tell me a word of his plans this morning. Can he be at the club still, or is it possible some accident can have happened to him ? " " No — no, Joan. Don't worry yourself with any such idea. You know Ted is perfectly able to take care of himself. He has most likely been detained by some friends." " Friends ! " echoed Joan quickly ; " what friends has he that I do not know of?" " Perhaps a good many ! " said Hilda laughing.

"Young men do not, as a rule, introduce all their acquaintances to their family ; at least, so mother says." " It is not true, " said Joan angrily ; " you say it only to vex me. Ted tells me everything. We have never had a secret from each other since we were born. He would not dream of making a friend unless I liked him too." " Or her, " interposed Hilda mischievously. "But — there is his latch-key! Here he comes at last. Thank goodness! Now we have a chance of getting some dinner. I am nearly starved to death." But Joan had no time for a rejoinder. She had flown into the hall, where one could hear her remonstrating with the new arrival. " Oh ! my dear, what is the matter ? Have you met with an accident? But why did you take off your boots? — on this wet night too! You funny boy ! " The servants were awaiting their master's advent at the sideboard, when he suddenly appeared in the doorway.

Mrs. Marshall gave a faint cry of alarm as she saw him, and Hilda exclaimed, as Joan had done: "Whatever is the matter?" Edward Marshall resembled his sister in a certain way, but he had none of her good looks nor proud bearing. He was about the same height, which made him look shorter for a man; his eyes were black as well as his hair; and his figure might have been called "stumpy," being broad and ungainly. But on the present occasion he appeared less good looking than usual, for his hair was wet and in disorder ; he carried his hat, crushed out of all shape, under one arm, and his boots under the other; and his whole demeanour was wild and disordered. The servants regarded him with astonishment, not unmixed with significance ; his stepmother shrank closer to her daughter Hilda, whilst that young lady said indig nantly : " If you are not hurt, what is the reason of your appearance, Ted?

I must say you do not look very fit to dine with gentlewomen ! " But Edward Marshall only stared at her through the wet hair that was hanging over his eyes, as if he had never seen her before. " Who are these people, Joan ? " he asked of his sister, who was hanging over him with eyes full of anxiety. " Here — turn them out ! We want no parties here. You and me alone — that's good enough for me ! " "Yes — yes, of course, dear," said Joan, who was rather alarmed by his manner and the curious way in which the servants were regarding him. " But come upstairs with me first, Ted, and let me get you some dry things. Dinner has been ready for some time, dear; but you cannot sit down like this. I will tell them to serve it in ten minutes, and by that time you will be ready for it. " She slipped her arm through his as she spoke, but he withdrew from her with an oath that horrified her, so seldom had she heard such language from him before.

She shrank backwards, putting her hands before her eyes as though to shut out the sight of him, but was roused by the voice of her brother's valet, Johnson, who had come forward to meet his master. " Don't you interfere, miss, begging your pardon," he said in a low tone. "It'll only make the master worse. Let me see to him. He'll be all right by-and-bye; only I wouldn't wait dinner any longer for him, miss, if I was you. He'll be better without it Sleep is what will do him the most good, and he'll be himself again in the morning." Joan guessed what the man suspected was the matter with her brother, and felt still more humiliated. Drinking to excess had never been one of Edward's faults ; indeed, he had always been singularly incapable of taking stimulants, except in the smallest quantities ; and if he had done so now, it must have been at the instigation of some acquaintance unknown to herself.

Pained and bewildered, she withdrew to the dining-room and told Wilson in a subdued voice that he might serve the dinner, when an unusual noise in the hall brought the whole family out again to learn the reason. Edward, on finding that Johnson was following him to his bedroom, had turned at the landing and thrown the poor man the whole way down the stairs, at the foot of which he lay, groan ing with pain. The footman, who had been in the hall at the time, was the only one fitted to give an explanation of the matter. "Johnson he had just got up to the landing when Mr. Marshall he turned upon him like a wild beast, and flung him all the way down the stairs, and then rushed up to his own room ! " Joan, regardless of the groaning Johnson, was about to rush after Edward, when Wilson, who had been many years in their service, ventured to remonstrate with her.

" Pray don't follow the master, miss. Leave him till he's in a better mind. You'll excuse my saying so, but gentlemen is at times not to be trusted, even with them as is nearest and dearest to them. Pray don't go near him, miss, but stay with your mamma and sister. Mr. Edward will come to himself after a while, if you leave him alone and quiet. But now, what are we to do with Johnson? I'm afraid it's a case for Dr. Macey. He's fallen with his leg under him, worse luck ! " " Send for Dr. Macey at once, Wilson, and carry the poor fellow as well as you can to his bedroom. And when you have made him comfortable you can serve dinner." The three ladies retreated to the dining-room and closed the door after them, and as soon as Joan found they were alone she threw her head down upon the table and burst into tears.

"Oh! what can be the matter? What can be the matter ? " she reiterated ; "I am torn to pieces with anxiety. I do not believe what those servants insinuate about my darling Ted ! It is only their vulgar suspicions. He has never drunk to excess in his life. I am so afraid he has been hurt or wounded in some way, and it has affected his head for awhile. Who would believe he could have thrown Johnson downstairs? — he who is so pleasant with the servants as a rule." Joan became quite lovable under her anxiety for her brother's safety, and Hilda crossed the room and knelt down beside her. " Don't magnify the danger, dear Joan. It is bad enough as it is, and you are frightening poor mother out of her seven senses. I am glad you have sent for Dr. Macey. He has known Ted for so long; he will be the best judge of what ails him now.

I wonder if he can have become involved in some street row. People are so sometimes, you know, quite against their will. But dry your eyes, dear, and don't cry any more. We shall know everything soon, and I feel sure it will not be so bad as you anticipate." "He is my all — my all!" moaned Joan. " If anything happened to him I should have nothing left in the world ! " " Don't say that, dear. We know how dear he is to you, but I am your sister, Joan, and mamma is your mother, and we both love you, indeed we do." Joan had just turned her head to return Hilda's kiss when their conference was inter rupted by a violent slam of the hall door. "What can that be?" cried Joan, starting from her seat; and as Wilson entered the room with the soup-tureen she reiterated the question. " Well, miss, to tell you the truth, that is Mr. Edward as has just gone out again."

" Gane out again ! " re-echoed Joan, " and in this pelting rain ! He must be mad ! " " It was himself and no other, " replied Wilson, as he served the soup. But Joan pushed her plate impatiently from her. " This will kill me ! " she exclaimed, feverishly pushing her hair off her forehead. " Oh ! when will Dr. Macey be here ? " " If James should find him at home, miss, he won't be long," replied the butler, "for poor Johnson is in such pain I begged the doctor to come immediately. I'm sure I can't tell where he's hurt, for he screams wherever we touch him, and it's my opinion that he's broke all over." The meal proceeded in solemn silence after this. Joan left her seat and took up her old station by the window, whence, however, she could see nothing, on account of the pouring rain. Hilda insisted upon Mrs. Marshall taking some nourishment, of which she stood sorely in need; but the meek little lady had been thoroughly frightened by the events of the evening, and Hilda could only make her do her duty by the threat that if she was rebellious she should put her to bed before Dr. Macey had paid his visit.

But it was some time before the doctor appeared. His assistant arrived to see after Johnson, and pronounced him to have sustained a fracture of the collar-bone, which he soon set to rights, and took his departure, promising that the doctor should wait upon them as soon as he returned home. But they sat there, hour after hour, even to eleven o'clock, without Dr. Macey or Edward having arrived, and Mrs. Marshall was so tired and exhausted that her daughter Hilda insisted upon carrying her off to her bedroom. As soon as she was out of hearing of Joan the old lady confided her own ideas regarding her stepson to Hilda. " I have thought for a long time past, Hilda, that Edward should have medical advice. He has become so rude, and gruff, and disagreeable, and we have done nothing to offend him, you know.

I believe it must be his stomach. Dr. Macey says the stomach lies at the bottom of every mischief, and I can remember when Ted was a boy he used sometimes to make himself very unpleasant, and your dear father always gave him a dose of medicine for it — to cool his blood, he said. He is too old for us to dose now, of course, but I should like to see if Dr. Macey cannot give him something to do him good. But throwing poor Johnson downstairs was quite inexcusable! I never knew Ted get into such a temper before." " I hope it may prove nothing worse than temper," replied Llilda; "but, as you say, he has been very queer of late, and I am curious to hear what the doctor says about it. Something must be done. Ted might take it into his head to throw you, or Joan, down the stairs next." " Oh, my dear, don't hint at anything so terrible !