Verney Court: an Irish novel

Front matter

REMINGTONS NEW BOOKS, JUST OUT, AT ALL LIBRARIES. GADDINGS WITH A PRIMITIVE PEOPLE.— By W. A. Baillie Groiiman, Author of "The Tyrol and the Tyrolese." 2 vols., 21/. "Tyrol and the Tyrolese " is a book of quite unusual charm." — Spectator. A BRITON ABROAD. — By the Author of " Two Years Abaft the Mast." 1 vol., 7/6. SKETCHES OF RUSSIAN LIFE AND CUSTOMS MADE DURING A VISIT IN 1876-7-— By Selwyn Eyre, i vol., 7/6. REMINGTON & CO., 5, Arundei Street, Strand, W.C. VERNEY COURT: AN IRISH NOVEL. BY M. NETHERCOTT. AUTHOR OF "The Witch-Thorn," "The Twelfth Rig," &c. IN TWO VOLUMES. T70i. II. %m\Hax\ : REMINGTON AND CO., 5, Arundel Street, Strand, W.C. 1878. [All Rights Reserved.~\ VERNEY COURT: AN IRISH NOVEL.

Chapter I. The Housekeeper's Story

" Twenty years ago I was at Brighton. I had gone there with an English lady who was in delicate health, as her attendant. I remember it was August when we went, and the place was crowded with fashionable people. It was my first situation, and it didn't last long. The lady died a very short time after we went to Brighton. I wasn't always obliged vol. n. b to be in a situation, Miss Melville. My husband was a very respectable man, and would have been very well off if he had lived, for he was steady, and clever at his business. But I lost him when we had been married only a few years, and then I had to take a situation. Well, after the death of the lady, I had to look out again. I advertised. The first reply I had was a few lines in a gentle man's hand, requesting C. B. L. — those were the letters to my advertisement — to call at a certain hotel in Brighton.

I went, and there met Mr. Verney." " Was he very different looking then from what he now is ? " I asked. " Yes, indeed he was. His figure was erect as a pillar, and he was a tall man, almost as tall as Mr. Nugent. Most people would have called him handsome, for his features were good as regarded shape, and that, but there was a look about his face which didn't pre possess me. His hair and eye-brows were coal black, and the light blue eyes beneath such heavy, dark brows had a strange look. There wasn't the same cold expression in them then that there is noAv, but they had a queer, restless flash, and he had a way sometimes of fixing them on a person that made one feel unable to stir hand or foot till he removed them. I've seen him fix his wife in this way, and then she would sit fascinated and half mesmerised before him.

If ever any eyes had the power of mesmerising, his had. "Well, he told me he wanted a person to attend on Mrs. Verney, and to accompany her in her walks when he was unable to do so, that my duties would be light, and he would raise my salary after the first quarter if I gave : satisfaction. I remember it all as if it had but happened yesterday. So I was engaged, and went the following day. " When I was introduced to Mrs. Verney, I thought her the loveliest looking lady I had ever seen. Her beauty took me altogether by surprise. She seemed to me more like an angel than a common mortal. She was very hke what Miss Catherine is now, but there was a sweet, sad look in her beautiful eyes that made me feel drawn towards her, and when she spoke, it was in such a gentle voice, and to utter such kind words, that I loved her at once. ' I hope you will be happy and comfortable with me,' said she. ' I shall try all in my power to make you so.

I am very glad to have a companion, and I hope you will like me.' She smiled, and then her eyes filled up with tears. Poor, beautiful, lonely young creature ! It was easy to see she was unhappy, and I guessed that her husband was the cause. Her eyes would often fill up that way without any apparent reason, and I knew that she sometimes took fits of crying in her own room. One time, when Mr. Verney was out, and I thought she was with him, I went to get a dress that I was to alter, and I found she was there. She was kneeling on the floor, with her face buried in her two hands, crying and sobbing pitifully, and a ring was lying on the chair before her. It wasn't her marriage ring, or any I had ever seen her wear. She hadn't heard me open the door, so I closed it again softly, and stole away. " She had a mortal fear of her husband.

He seemed to have power to make her do just whatever he wished — no matter how much averse to it she might previously have been — simply by looking at her. He ruled her, not by love, but by a kind of mesmeric : power that he had gained over her. One great cause of her unhappiness, I soon found, was his jealousy. He was of a terribly jealous nature. He couldn't bear that any gentleman should so much as look at her, and, of course, it was impossible for her to go anywhere and not be looked at, she was so beautiful. He would flash a glance that had death in it, at the offender, and scowl on his wife as if it were her fault. His eyes were never off her face, except when he looked round to see if any one else's were there, too. She was afraid to raise her eyes, or smile, because he would say she did it to attract attention.

He loved her, there is no doubt of that, passionately, desperately, but it is a curse, rather than a blessing, to be loved by a man of his nature. " I soon found that I was wanted more to watch than to wait; that Mr. Verney expected me to act as a spy on his wife, and inform him of everything she did and said, and if she ever met or spoke to any one when out walking with me. What he had said when engaging me, about raising my salary after the first quarter if I gave satisfaction, had evidently been for the purpose of en couraging me to please him in this way. As soon as he gave me the first hint that this was what he wanted, I spoke out very bold, for I felt roused, and told him I wondered any gentleman wouldn't be ashamed to say he wanted his wife spied on, that I was a re spectable woman, though I was obliged to earn my bread, and that I wasn't going to act such a part.

" ' But don't you think,' said he, ' that it would be wrong for a lady to have meetings with a gentleman, without the knowledge of her husband ? ' VERNET COURT : " ' Of course I do,' I answered, very in dignant, ' but there's not the least danger of Mrs. Verney having secret meetings with any gentleman; she's far too good to have any thing of the sort. It's a shame to suspect such an angel, and you know right well she's never given you any ground to do so.' " I wonder he wasn't offended at my plain speaking, but, somehow, he didn't seem to be. You see I suited in other ways, and so I dare say he thought it better not to part with me ; and my being so averse to turn spy showed him I was faithful and upright, and not likely, if his wife were really doing anything wrong, to be a party to it, or conceal it from him.

" One day, when Mr. Verney was out, a letter came for my mistress, and I took it to her. A few minutes after, Mr. Verney came in, and went straight into the room where she was. Passing a little while after, I heard his voice loud and excited, and she crying. That evening, he came to me and told me to pack up my mistress' things, that we were to start early the next morning for Ireland. I, of course, couldn't guess at all what was the cause of this sudden change of plans. I knew that he hadn't had any intention the day before, of going to Ireland, for I had heard him speaking to Mrs. Verney as if he intended remaining at Brighton for some time. " The next morning, we set out at six o'clock. My mistress looked very sorrowful, and her sweet blue eyes were red and swollen, as if she'd been crying all night.

During the journey Mr. Verney watched her, one might say as a cat watches a mouse that it has under its paw. He never left her side for a minute. The journey was performed with as iew stoppages as possible. When we got to : Dublin, we drove direct to the railway, and started by the first train. There was only half-an-hour to wait for it, but Mr. Verney was impatient even at that slight delay. " By the time we got to the end of the long railway journey, my mistress was thoroughly wearied out, and the hour was late. Yet, instead of stopping for the night at the hotel, Mr. Verney ordered horses to be got ready, and cruelly insisted on her going on at once to Verney Court. "A cold, drizzling rain was falling, but no close carriage was to be had, and we were obliged to go in an open one. I wrapt up Mrs. Verney in shawls, as well as I could, but there was a bitter wind, which, though not high, pierced through all mufflings, and seemed to strike direct to one's heart.

"When we entered the avenue, thickly strewn with leaves — for all the trees had not been cut down then — and the ponderous gate closed on us with a bang, I saw a tremor pass over my mistress's frame. It seemed like entering a prison. " The house was in total darkness. No one was expecting us, for Mr. Verney had been in too great a hurry setting out, to write and let the old woman who had charge of the house know we were coming. Mr. Verney had to knock six or seven times before any one came to open the door. In answer to his last thundering summons, the bolts were tremblingly withdrawn, and the old woman appeared. " She didn't seem in the least surprised at seeing who were waiting for admittance. The fact is, she was too old and stupid to be surprised at anything, however surprising. When Mr. Verney swore at her for keeping us waiting so long, she only mumbled inarticulately. : She was quite deaf, and didn't know what he was saying, nor had she heard the knocks till the last one.

" We went into the dining-room. There was no fire, and the air was damp and heavy. It felt like a place that hadn't been inhabited for years, which, indeed, was the fact ; for this was the first time Mr. Verney had come to it since it fell into his hands. It had been in his family for ever so long. Some of his Spanish ancestors built it ages ago. There used to be a drawbridge, I hear. " The big room, besides being cold as a vault, was as dark, and the sputtering half penny candle stuck in a broken bottle — which the old woman held in her hand when she opened the door, and had now placed on the table — gave only enough light to show the darkness. " It was a nice, cheerful place for a younowife to come home to, and a warm welcome for her to get ! Poor Mrs. Verney felt it. She looked all round the room with a pitiful expression on her beautiful face ; and then her features began to work convulsively.

I saw that she tried hard to control herself, but she hadn't the power to do it. She was weak with fatigue, and I may say starvation, for Mr. Verney hadn't waited to get any refresh ment for her at the hotel, and she'd only taken a glass of water in the middle of the day. " After a few efforts to command herself, she burst into a fit of hysterical crying. It wasn't so much the actual hardships she had gone through, and the miserable look of the place she minded, I know, as the idea of the whole thing. I laid her on the sofa — the same big leather one that's still in the spot it was then — and tried to soothe her. : "When she'd got a bit quieter, I groped my way down to the kitchen, and, after a great deal of roaring, got the old woman to understand that I wanted her to kindle some turf to fight fires upstairs, and to put some water to boil.

But she hadn't a bit of sense, and the end of it was that I had to turn about and light the fires and do everything myself. You may think how stupid she was, when I tell you she was going to throw a can full of water over the only fire in the house, when I seized her arm. " ' Sure, didn't ye tell me to put wather on the fire ? ' says she. " ' I told you to put on the kettle, you fool ! ' I cried. And then she went, and was actually going to put on the kettle without a drop in it. I just took it from her without a word, and sent her off to bed. She was more a hindrance than a help to me. " When at last I got the fires lighted, matters weren't mended. The chimneys wouldn't draw, so that the rooms were filled with smoke, and I had to open the windows to let it out. If you'd wanted to paint a picture of discomfort, that room would have been just the model for it, with the butt of tallow candle swaying in the wind from the window, the fire just beginning to kindle, and the air dense with clouds of smoke.

Not a thing could be got right that night. The cup of tea I made for my mistress, in hopes to revive her, had a queer sort of taste, as if the water 'cl been boiled in a rusty vessel. " The next day, I got things into some sort of order, and Mr. Verney gave me permis sion to hire two of the country girls as servants. They'd never been in places before, and had no idea of work. I had my own bother teaching them. : " For some time, Mr. Verney kept such a close watch over his wife that I was never left alone with her for more than a few minutes together. But after a couple of months or so, he began to get tired of the monotony and dreariness of his life, and began to go away to London and Dublin occasionally, but never by any chance took her with him. " Sometimes, he would remain away a long time, sometimes, a very short time.

He was uncertain as the wind. But, long or short, he was always sure at last to return suddenly, and at a time when he was least expected. Sometimes he wrote to say he was coming, and mentioned a particular day and hour ; but, whenever he did this, he was always sure to come a day or two before the one arranged, or else not till long after. " He had a passion for gambling. When we were at Brighton he often spent the whole night out gambling. He — what's that? " The chair placed against the door was being moved almost imperceptibly into the room, and a slight scraping noise had occurred. " Well, as I was saying," continued Mrs. Baker, in a louder tone, " they thought at first it was the measles. Little Patsy was the worst with it, and one night his throat was so bad that they were quite alarmed, and sent off in a fright for Dr. O'Hanlon.

He pronounced it scarlatina, and said — " " What o'clock are ye here ? " asked old Donal's voice at the door. " Quarther afther ten ; yis, ye're about right. Herself out side's ha'-past. It's the fast lady entirely she's gettin', bedad. But don't ye go for to VOL. II. c : crow, me fine madam ; sure it's worser ye used to be yerself whin ye was out there in the dhraught. I haven't forgotten the thricks ye used to be goin' on wid, by gor. Sure it's on'y sense ye got into these warm quarthers yiv behaved yerself any way dacent at all. Ye're fond o' the hate, ye lazy huzzy ! But now that I look at ye betther, seems to me one o' yer hands crooked. D'ye obsarve it ? " said he, with a wag of his head towards Mrs. Baker and me. "I don't see anything wrong with the clock," replied Mrs. Baker. " Bedad, but there is, though; one iv her hands isn't pointin' straight.

Anyone wid eyes iu their head 'ud see it," returned Donal, dogmatically. " I'll jest bring in the table an' git up to her. Sure it's worritted entirely meself is wid 'em for clocks." He went away, leaving the door open behiud him, and after a few minutes returned, dragging in a wooden table from the kitchen, which he mounted, and began to root at the clock, meanwhile lavishing on it every term of abuse and contempt which the vocabulary of the English and Irish languages afforded. The task seemed endless. Mrs. Baker continued her impromptu story about the children who were at first thought to have measles. " It remains now to be seen whether she'll sthrike or not," said old Donal, at last leaving off rooting, and cautiously stepping from the table to the chair, and thence to the floor. " Jest mind, will ye, whin she sthrikes next, if she gives the proper number o' sthrikes ?

She does get sulky, sometimes, afther I've been at her, an' eayther won't say a word at all at all, or not as many as she has the right. : So jest ye'll recken whin ye hear her begin, an' let me know if she's afther goin' on wid any iv her thricks, an' I'll bile her to-morrow, by gor ! " When old Donal had gone, Mrs. Baker once more placed the chair against the door, and resumed — " Well, during one of his absences, Mrs. Verney made a confidant of me, and told me all her sad little story. She had been beneath Mr. Verney in position. Her family were in the theatrical line, and she had been brought up as an actress. She was engaged to be married to a gentleman of high family, a Mr. Graydon, whom she loved, and Mr. Verney induced her to believe him false, told her he was going to marry another, and brought forward what appeared to be such indisputable proofs of it, that she never doubted the truth of what he said.

After a little while, he asked her to be his wife. She refused, saying she didn't intend to marry. But he was not to be so repulsed. He was resolved that she should be his wife, and her will was nothing against his. " Every fresh difficulty seemed only to in crease his passion, and make him more de termined to attain his object. It was like the excitement of gambling. I believe that if he could have got her easily, he'd never have cared for her at all. " He continued his attentions to her under the guise of a friend, and made himself use ful to her in many ways. He shielded her from the insults and impertinences which one so young and beautiful would be likely to meet with in her position, if unprotected. At the end of five years, he again urged his offer : upon her, and she, unable to hold out against him, and being alone and desolate, consented to be his wife.

" The letter she received the day of Mr. Verney's sudden decision to quit Brighton, was from a friend of Mr. Graydon, and ex plained the true state of the case, which had just then come to his knowledge. Mr. Gray don had been deceived, and led to believe her false — as she had him — by Mr. Verney, and, indignant at her supposed fickleness, had been drawn into a marriage with a young lady his parents designed for him. " She was just reading the letter when Mr. Verney came in. She didn't hear him, she was so absorbed in it, till he was almost beside her. Then she tried to hide it, but too late, he had seen it, and, fixing his eyes on her, he commanded her to deliver it up to him at once, and she obeyed without a word. The contents of the letter roused Mr. Verney's jealousy and suspicion to that degree, that he couldn't rest a minute till he'd got her to a place of security.

" He'd have taken her off that night if he could. He was so full of schemes and de vices himself that he thought she must be the same, and seemed to think she'd run away with somebody if he gave her the opportu nity. He couldn't understand at all that she'd think it her duty to be true to him, no matter how bad he was, or by what unprin cipled means he'd induced her to be his wife, now that she was so. " Well, one day, soon after — after — after-r-r — soon after little Patsy began to get a great deal better, though he didn't recover so quick as the other children, and was delicate for a lona* time. When his father — " "By gor! it's a quare thing to kape the VERNEY COUKT : doure barred up in sich a way," growled Donal's voice, indignantly, as he pushed in the chair. " One 'ud think yiz was plottin' trayson, an' was afeard o' bein' overheard, wid a chair agin it !

Phew !" " Well, sure you know the door won't stay close without something against it," said Mrs. Baker, " and when it's ajar, such a draught comes in that I declare I get the toothache, sitting in it." " Oh, ay ! to be sure. Well, did she sthrike right ? " "What.?" " Why, she beyant, herself, in coorse, the clock. Now d'ye understand ? " returned Donal, testily. " Oh ! I really didn't mind," replied Mrs. Baker. " Ye didn't recken ! Well ! Well ! sich a thing, an' you sittin' there wid yer two hands afore ye. Oh, Moses ! did ye ever hear the like o' that ? But, sure, it was too much tuck up ye was wid that story about them sick children to be afther mindin' anythin' else, an' I suppose miss bey ant was jest the same." >) " I think it struck ten," I said, venturing a guess, in hope to allay Donal's suspicions, which were evidently aroused.

" Ye thiuk ! an' I wondher what's the good o' ye thinkin' whin ye're not sure." growled Donal. " I wasn't axin' ye yer thoughts, an' I don't want to hear 'em. Did ye recken ? that's what I want to come at. No, I see ye didn't. Ye're good for nothin' but listenin' to scandal an' lies. Ye're jest a faymale, that's what ye are, bedad ! " and he shambled out of the room in a rage. I couldn't help laughing. " You see he suspects," said Mrs. Baker; VERNEY COURT: AN IRISH NOVEL. you had better not stay here any longer now. I think he will have business out to-morrow, and then I can finish. Good night." As I passed the kitchen, I saw Donal peer ing out from behind the door, as if medi tating athird irruption into the housekeeper's room.

Chapter II

" Stay for me there ! I will not fail To meet thee in that hollow vale." The next day, Donal being out collecting rents, Mrs. Baker continued the story of Catherine's mother. " One evening, nearly a year after we'd come to Verney Court, Mrs. Verney and I were out walking. Mr. Verney had gone away the day before, so it wasn't likely he'd be back for a week at least, though, of course, there was no knowing. " We were walking along rather slowly, my mistress leaning on my arm, for she wasn't strong, when we heard a step behind us — a step too light to be that of a VERNEY C0UET : countryman with his heavy clogs. It was like the step of a gentleman. I felt my mistress' hand tremble as it lay on my arm. I thought she fancied it was Mr. Verney come back, and wondered, for she was always uncommon sharp at knowing his step — and knock, too — and this wasn't like it at all.

" I turned round my head a little, and saw a tall, fair, nice-looking gentleman, with aristocratic features, and frank, open coun tenance, but deeply shadowed with melancholy. " When he came close behind us, and was about to pass, Mrs. Verney turned, and looked up into his face. Then, with a cry of ' Charles ! Charles ! ' — it was a cry, though uttered under her breath — she would have sunk to the ground if I had not supported her. "The blood rushed into the gentleman's face, then fled, leaving him pale as marble. He looked at her with an expression I can't describe — I'm quick enough at seeing ex pressions, but not at describing them. " ' Is it possible I see Mrs. Verney ? this is indeed a surprise,' he said, at last, trying to appear composed, and speak in an ordinary tone. ' I believe the surprise is mutual.

I thought you were in England, and you pro bably thought I was there.' " ' Oh ! Charles, why have you come here ? ' she cried, passionately. ' It is six years since I saw your face, and I thought never to see it again till we met in Heaven. 0 God ! I was miserable enough, but now to see him, and to know that there is a gulf be tween us — that we are parted — ' " She stopped, and seemed about to burst out crying, but her eyes remained dry, and no tears came to her relief. " ' Are you, too, then, miserable, Cathe- : rine ? ' said Mr. Graydon, for, of course, I guessed it was he. ' Has your life been a burden and a weariness to you all these years since your marriage ? and has the sting of remorse been added — ' '"All these years ! ' she interrupted, then added with a sad smile, ' Yes, truly, though I am married but one year, it has been like many to me.' " ' One year ! ' cried Mr. Graydon. ' It is six since I heard of your preference for — for Mr. Verney, and you were married to him a month after.' " No, no !

Not for five years after." " ' Then I was deceived on that point,' murmured Mr. Graydon. " ' And I wouldn't have married him then, only I was alone and homeless, and I believed you false. If I'd known that you had been deceived, as I was — if that letter had come a few months sooner — ' " ' What letter ? ' " ' The letter explaining how a person had been employed to tell you a false story about me. You might have had more faith in me than to believe it,' she added sorrowfully. " ' Then the tale of your preference for Mr. Verney was invented by himself,' said Mr. Graydon in a low deep voice, ' and I, believing it — madman that I was — played into his hands ; hopeless, and indifferent to my fate, allowed myself to be led into a marriage of convenience, and he went and told you I was false, having first made me so by the lying story of your falsity. 0 God ! the deep-dyed, treacherous scoundrel !

The curse of Heaven light upon him.' " ' He is my husband now,' said my mistress. : " ' It is for that I curse him,' went on Mr. Graydon, passionately. ' You were pledged to me, and he tore you almost from my arms. He has no right to be your husband. Just Heaven, what a mass of treachery we've both been the victims of, what a wreck that man — devil I might rather say — has made of our happiness ! But, oh, my poor Catherine, restless and wretched as I am, Ifearyoursis a worse fate; here in this lonely place, his wife, with nothing to divert your mind for a minute from the past and the dreary present. Is he kind to you ? ' " ' He gives me presents, but he leaves me here alone, when he goes away himself, and I am afraid of him,' she answered. "'Are you really very unhappy?' he asked. " ' Miserable,' she murmured.