The Copper Queen. A romance of to-day and yesterday

Front matter

VOL. Romance of Co-traw anir Ucstcrbair. BY BLANCHE ROOSEVELT, AUTHOR OF " LIFE AND REMINISCENCES OF GUSTAVE DORE," " LONGFELLOW'S HOME I.l+E ''STAGE STs.TJCK," ETC. "For time at last sets all things even, And if we do but watch the hour, There never yet was human power Which could evade, if unforgiven, The patient search, and vigil long, Of him who treasures up a wrong," Mazeppa. Canto V, Byron. VOL. III. WAED AND DOWNEY, PUBLISHERS, 12, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN. 1886. Rkhard Clay A: Sons, BREAD STREET HILL, LONDON Bungay, Suffolk.

Chapter 1

Enilda and Flora had been but a few days in London when the mail brought them letters from bome; amongst others from Mr. Rozen and Florestan, and a very long one from Mrs. Chromo. Mr. Rozen was full of regret for his dear girl's departure, and fuller yet of his multitude of cares and troubles ; whilst Florestan's letter, although couched in friendly terms, in every word breathed an under-current of love which amounted to a passion ; for if Enilda had known before that he cared for her, she now read between the lines, and saw in every space a newer declaration of his affection. Since her meeting with Claremont she had been a prey to such strange sensations that not only she scarcely dared to define them, but she scarcely dared admit even to herself what she felt now to be the vol. hi. B truth— that Claremont held as of old the first place in her heart.

The day following her arrival she had refused to see him, and Flora had given him the coveted dish of tea ; but if Enilda refused one morning, fate threw him in her path the next ; whilst Lady Mildred, unsuspicious and unwearying in hospitality, so managed that not a day passed but they either lunched, dined, or went to the play together. Enilda could not plead ill-health as an excuse for not accepting Lady Mildred's invitations, for iu reality she had never been so well before in her whole life. Then, too, since their meeting on the steamer, at sight of his face or sound of his voice, that strange old fascination would creep over her, and as helplessly enfold her in its toils as the boa constrictor enfolds its victim. She had never yet seen him alone — so far fortune had befriended her — yet she dreaded to think of what that meeting might be, for she felt sure come it must some day.

She was turning Florestan's letter over idly in her hand, and thinking — not of him, but of Claremont. She was suddenly startled out of her thoughts by a shriek of laughter from Flora. " My dearest child," she cried, " what on earth are you laughing at ? " Flora continued laughing, but explained that she was reading Mrs. Chromo' s letter, and the news was too funny. " Stay," she added ; " I'll read it to you entire. If you aren't surprised I'll give in. Lucy Chromo is a dear, but between ourselves, ' Enilda chile,' as Charlotte Corday says, she's no chicken, and ought to know better. Now, Miss Chandos- Cressy, for instance : she's old enough to eat grass, but I don't believe even she would be as idiotic as Lucy is. Listen : "'Dearest Flora, " ' You wondered why I didn't come to Europe with you ; why at the last moment I had to stop at home ?

Well, I may as well tell you the truth, first as last. Nearly a year ago I determined that if Adam Chromo wouldn't give up the glue business — in short, retire on his laurels and money — that I would be divorced from him, as I could no longer stand the sight of those filthy, brazen carts, chirping up and down the Avenue constantly before my very eyes. The end of all is, he wouldn't sacrifice them ; he preferred to sacrifice me : not unusual, dear, when you marry simply that compound of nature's cunning, classically called — man. I did not care to let New York into the secret of my domestic affairs, so have always kept the matter extremely quiet. Before the world Adam and myself have ever preserved an outward semblance of harmony ; behind it — well, B not a semblance, but a reality of awful discord.

Every word I have spoken to him at meals, or before a servant, has been taken down for me by my faithful Zenobia; for Adam, by his equally faithful Tristram. These conversations, I need not tell you, are destined as evidence when our case comes up for trial; the which trial, I need not say, comes off the first of September next. You can imagine how I feel, and what I have borne during the past year. My lawyer, Mr. Harkins, a sweet, angelic man, has heard all my pros and cons. I believe that is the legal way to put it, and he thinks that Adam Chromo is a brute, and has morally mopped tbe floor up with me for years. Absolute incompatibility of temper is the least I have against him. Oh, Flora ! pity me. Tell Enilda all, and whatever you do, either of you, never marry an idiotic, opinionated, self-made American.

Other races of men change — American men — never. Adam could not forget that he had, so to speak, manufactured himself. He used to boast of what he was — a Virginian stable-boy in extreme youth — and what he is now. I have often told him, that to a proud, even haughty — you know me, Flora, I have often been haughty, but 'never with you; — a proud, even haughty woman like myself, a Mayflower descendant, he was not Hercules, and those Augean reminiscences had an unsavoury smell in the millionnaire's parlour. I have even said, " Leave me out of the question ; but you — you yourself, have you no pride ? " Result ! Well, girls, both of you — you see he hasn't. I wish you could have seen the lawyer's face when he took in our breakfast-table conversation, faithfully reported by Zenobia — too faithfully for Adam, — which was but one speaking instance of the brutality and humiliation we women are subject to at times.

Mind, I say at times, for although the race in general deserves wholesale reprobation, I have known some masculine exceptions, of which I could name three or four on the spot. I have more news, which will keep until my arrival. What sort of a house is it ? Park Lane sounds very nice. Mr. Rozen told me all about it. How many servants are there ? They say June and July are the months in London, so I am counting on a lovely time. By the way, we come over in a large party — Mr. Florestan, the Count, Mr. Cherubini, and your humble servant. Let me not forget Miss Chandos-Cressy, who bas just told me that she is great-aunt to a titled lady — married to an old flame of mine, John Claremont — ' " "Ah! " What is it ? " " I — I thought some one came in ; I see I was mistaken. Go on." " ' John Claremont, whom I was once — may I say completely gone on?

It wasn't the man, but his manners, they were so different from those of all American men : but that's over — " All's well — that — is worth two in the bush." I shouldn't be at all sur prised if Professor Protoplasm came with us after all. I believe he's sweet on Miss C.-C. Something else also has happened, but that must be a secret until after my divorce has been pronounced. I am going to be presented at Court with you girls this season, as no woman, I hear, can go to Court after the httle affair above-mentioned has been consummated. Ridiculous, isn't it ? — but I suppose in England they must draw the line somewhere. I am nearly dead, but must add a word to say that Enilda's papa looks very worried and anxious. I see there has been some law -suit on for that Vane, and perhaps Mr. Rozen was worried about it.

That comes of being a silent partner. I've always said they have all the fretting, all the responsibility, and all tbe work. If Adam would only become a silent partner in his own concern — but that is a dream. " ' Don't think I regret the step I have taken. I don't love him, but I still have a sneaking kind of regard for him, and sometimes wonder what will become of him without me ; but he deserves it. Per haps when he finds me firm he will listen to reason. He will settle ten million dollars on me, so that I sha'n't starve ; but it seems little compared to what I have been in the habit of commanding. Of course one can live upon that, but it will be an odious thought to say to myself every day aud every minute, as I know I shall be obliged to say, " Lucy Chromo, deny yourself this, deny yourself that ; your exchequer is now miserably limited."

"'We sail in the "Electra;" lovely steamer. I have the bridal chambers, — alas ! strange mojkery of a happy past. Forgive me. girls, for wilting now at the last moment, so to speak, but I cannot help it. If I don't leave New York soon, I shall rupture a blojd-vessel in the brain, or somewhere else. I have said good-bye to Adam, and — good bye I feel it is. Will telegraph arrival from Queenstown. " ' With fond love, ever the same, "'Lucy Chromo.' " Now, Enilda, what can you say to a woman like Lucy Chromo ? " Flora laughed as she spoke. " Isn't she a fool to give up all that money, and — and as decent a man as one could find in the whole of America, hunt where you may ? What do you s'pose the secret is ? " " I hav'n't an idea." " Perhaps she is going to marry again.' " Perhaps." " Enilda, how oddly you answer me ; aren't you well ?

" "Perfectly.' "Perfectly? Let me see." Flora took Enilda's chin in her hand and turned the fair face up to the light. The object of this scrutiny blushed. " Nonsense, Flora," she cried petulantly ; " I am perfectly well, only — only I was wondering about — about papa. I confess I am worried. Do you think be is seriously ill ? " Enilda's eyes filled with tears. " I think Lucy Chromo is an idiot," cried Flora. "I'm out of patience with her. Of course your father isn't ill ; at worst it could only be some stock gone w*rong. What is he — a bull or a bear ? " " I — I really don't know ; perhaps he's both. Per haps he may be a bear for one kind and a bull for the other; but I've heard people who know* Wall Street as well as their pocket-books say that bull is one profession and bear is another.

It's as different as being a chemist and botanist, you know." "It is all strange talk to me, dear; but I don't believe it is stock ; in fact I know it isn't. I asked him once, and he said distinctly, No. Perhaps he's in love." "Flora!" " Well, dear, have you never dreamed that some such thing might be the case ? " " Never. Papa adored mamma. Her awful death made him a changed man. He has since devoted himself to me, and couldn't look at another woman : every day he seems to love me more. No one ever had a father like mine — like — " Enilda stopped abruptly, although her eyes were still overrun with tears. In fancy she went back to a year ago. She was reading Claremont's letter — her father was consoling her — then she was in Naples, in Rome, wandering here, there, every where; he always silencing her heartaches by bis infinite tenderness, his watchfulness, bis constant care.

Flora kissed her. "Dear," she said, "I won't quarrel with you about parents, although I think my own are the best 'as ever was;' only you mustn't worry about him; crying and so on: besides, you'll spoil your eyes — 'the loveliest eyes in the world,' as Mr. Claremont says." " Flora, what do you mean ? ' "Enilda, don't fly at me like that. What do you mean ? Can't a man admire your eyes ? A 'cat may look at a king.' I only say if a man admires my eyes, I don't sae why he can't come directly to me, and tell me, instead of waltzing around to other women and saying what he thinks of me ! What's that ? — a ' gram ' ; — give it here. Oh, it's for you, Enilda." A servant handed Enilda the regulation yellow envelope. " They've arrived," she said ; "read. Lucy will be here to-morrow, and — and Mr. Florestan."

Flora jumped joyfully about like a school-girl. "At la^t," she said; "now we can begin to have some fun. But two things we'll prohibit ; — no talking divorce ; no abusing Adam Chromo behind his back. What do you say, 'Nilda ? — and — and — no talking about your pater, and — and worries." " I must know exactly how papa is ; but as to talking over her proposed divorce — that — well, that is out of the question." "Perhaps she'll abandon the idea if we have a good go at her about it." " My dear child, what business is it of yours or mine ? At least leave her to the enjoyment of her own private affairs. Now I have somethino* to confide in you. I have taken a growing dislike to Count de Marcie. I see him in dreams mixed up with papa, and I can't make it out; after such a night I really wake up with — with — well, with a bad taste in my mouth, if you know what I mean by that."

" I know exactly ; an encyclopædia in ten volumes couldn't have expressed it better." " I see that Lucy Chromo is getting as thick with the Count as two peas in a pod, and I hope she won't have him here all the time ; I feel I couldn't stand it." " My dear, the house is yours. "Oh no; I don't mean that. Of course, Lucy is kind enough to chaperone us. The house is hers ; she spoke something about taking it together, aud so on ; but that is all nonsense. The best friends in the world fight after a month of having kept house together ; dividing household expenses, and so on. I know of nothing more fatal to mutual esteem." 'Perhaps as you are not devoted chums it wrould work all rioht." " Yes ; that might be an antidote, but I am not going to try it. Papta has arranged everything. He has invited her to be my guest, but practically to be the head of the house."

"So we girls are on a visit to Lucy. How funny ! " " It is funny when you think of it ; but as papa couldn't come, and your mamma wouldn't come — and he — papa — insisted on my coming to Europe, and so did Charlotte Corday — " "My dearest Enilda, what has she to do with it?" "Oh nothing; only — only I love her dearly. She has been like a mother to me." " Happily she didn't nurse you ; you might have been black." " Nonsense." Enilda smiled faintly for the first time since reading her letters. " Nonsense ; only Charlotte had a strange fainting-fit ; and after that she kept saying, ' Let's go away, honey chile — away from New York ; ' and when I said papa wishes me to go to London, she seemed tickled to death, and she was so broken-down, poor thing, I thought we might as well come, so — here we are."

" She seems to enjoy London hugely, and now I think of it looks as spry as a ' possum ' — to quote her words. But come, are we going to the Row or not this morning ? " "Oh yes, of course; I had quite forgotten our engagement." " Lady Mildred is a dear, not a bit like the stiff Englishmen you read about — but what a funny country ! — she, my Lady ; he, plain Mister. Imagine a husband taking a back seat in America — being only—" " Only the husband of madam." "Yes; and — and do you know, Enilda, I don't believe they're happy together. She loves him, and he don't love her. If I didn't know better, I should say he's mashed on you. It's the clearest case of — " In spite of herself Enilda trembled as she thought : " What ! had she alone been blind ? Did John Claremont still care for her ? — and did he respect her — his wife — so little that he let all the world see it ?

Could it be possible ? " " Heavens upon earth," cried Flora, " what fools we are ! The ship is in ; this gram isn't from Queens • town at all, but from Liverpool. Why, they'll be here in no time." Enilda looked again, then rang and began giving directions about Lucy's rooms, the dinner, and — then she reflected. The Claremonts were dining there that very night; should she put them off? Flora divined her brown study. " Let's have a grand square-toed dinner in tbe impromptu line, all together. Lady Mildred is sure to like Lucy, and she won't be too tired after the trip. What fun ! what fun ! Do give orders at once." Enilda demurred, but Flora finally had her way. Orders were given; the girls went to the park; lunched with Lady Mildred afterwards, and two hours later were embracing Lucy and Miss Chandos- Cressy at the railway-terminus.

They were nil laughing and chattering "thirteen to the dozen" about the trip. Florestan shook Enilda's hand warmly, and looked into her eyes with so glad a light in his that she felt a thrill leaping in every vein. She was sorry for him, and yet she could not tell why ; only John Claremont's face always came between hers and any others, if that other happened to be a man's. Would it be ever so ? She had intended welcoming Florestan warmly ; instead, she turned her face away and greeted him coldly. " Something has happened," he thought, and his heart died within him. He had counted the hours of the long voyage. Every plash of the waves against the steamer's paddle, every opaline tint which crested the little hills receding from the stern, had said to him, "You are leaving me behind, but you are going to her ; " and on those fair nights when the silver moonlight made an endless track across the broad expanse of water he repeated, " One day more which separated us is gone.

I am one day nearer to her." He had looked at the last crests flashing from the bow, and almost heard the last sound of the screw as the all-potent iron cleaved the impuissant Atlantic ; he had heard " All's well ! " cried out for tbe last time ; he was landed in London at last, and she — she was standing by his side saying coldly : " So glad to see you. I hope you had a charming trip ; you must dine with us to-night. Flora insists on our having a real family party." " Flora," he thought ; " ah ! — she it was who asked me, — who cared to see me ! " " And, dear Cyril, you haven't brought him ? Florestan smiled sadly. '•' Cyril is with his grandmamma. I shall miss him, but mother wouldn't hear of my bringing such a little fellow so far." " Oh, I'm sorry ; I had so hoped to see him. I love him dearly."

At that moment Florestan was near hating him. "Even my child," he thought bitterly, "she loves him, but — she has no love for me." He was going to refuse the dinner; he conceived the wild project of returning to New York by the next steamer. " She is a heartless woman," he thought, " and I will think of her no more." He looked up brusquely. She was speaking to him in a softer voice ; only a softer voice, one little cadence sweeter than a moment since, and at its music all his latent resolutions vanished. , " I am sure you won't plead a prior engage ment," she said ; " I can't let you say no. There will be some old friends; amongst others the Lady Mildred Claremont, and — and her husband, — delight ful people ; — also some new acquaintances, Lord and Lady St. Ermine, Baron d'Alfredi, and many others.

Lady St. Ermine is a lovely woman, a poetess; — not a bit of the bas blue." He lifted his hands in horror. " Prepare yourself," she said laughingly, " for a very young woman, fair, lovel}*, adorable ; eyes like wood-violets shining w*ith morning dew, and a face like an unfinished sketch by an old master — Raphael, for instance, — and she the Sistina Madonna iu — in English — " " My dear," interrupted Lucy Chromo, " don't spring old masters on me at this stage of the game." Then she added quickly, " How foggy it is ! The Count got off at Queenstown, wasn't it odious of him ? — but — he is coming on to-morrow or the day after." Enilda some way breathed a sigh of relief. She was happy to think that even forty-eight hours had come between them. Florestan's voice sounded in her ears. " You know your wishes are, as ever, my law.

Of course I shall come. Eight, you say ? and I add ' eight sharp.' " The dinner Avas finished and tbe men dawdling over wine, cigars, aud scandal ; perhaps political, but certainly scandal. John Claremont was looking at Florestan. His brow was clouded, and a dark light sombred his eyes. He had been thus studying him ever since he had revived a very slight acquaint anceship began in New York months since. When Enilda left the room he surprised a glance on Florestan's face which roused every bad passion in his nature. " He loves her," he thought ; " and she — she has forgotten me. She loves him ; but I would kill her with my own hand before she should ever marry him." C vol. ill.

Chapter II

At last the great affair A\*as over. Mrs. Chromo, Enilda, and Flora had gone bare-necked on a bitter day to pay court to a Sovereign whose virtues like her name were Avorld-Avide. They did not regret the biting east wind, the long drive to Buckingham Palace, the long wait before presentation, nor the gradual deepening of the skin from rose to violet, and the standing for hours before their turns came. The three had previously taken lessons from a fashionable draAving-room teacher, and at home they had rehearsed their parts ; Lucy Chromo being the queen, Flora the wife of the Minister for Foreign Affairs, Enilda the victim. Then the roles AA*ere reversed, each in turn assuming the state of queen, mistress of ceremonies, and young lady to be pre sented. Enilda certainly excelled in grace, Flora in audacity, and Lucy in dignity.

At last the teacher pronounced them perfect, and declared that from their ease and manner they might have passed their lives at Court. " It is astonishing," she said, " hoAv Americans get on," and added, " Ladies, I never before had such pupils. It is as if you were born to the purple." When they saAV their noses and shoulders growing so high-coloured in broad daylight, they began to think that not only were they born to it, but tbat they had inherited it then and there. Few Avonien can stand the crucial test of the DraA\*ing-Room, and long before they reached the Palace Lucy began to grumble, Flora to fret, and Enilda to declare tbat "jit might as Avell be in the evening anyway ; " but their murmurings Avere " a vain thing," and after hours of unavoidable peripa tetics they finally found themselves in the Royal apartment, Avhere the members of the Royal Family in brilliant automatic guard stood to the rifdit and left of her most gracious Majesty the Queen.

When the important moment came Enilda trembled like a leaf in the storm. " I know I shall do something awful," whispered Flora, whilst Lucy preserved such a dignity that her bosom heaved and threatened to burst the bounds of her corsage, whose scantness, the fashion, the dressmaker, and her OAvn personal courage had all mutually agreed upon. It Avas over : the page had c held Enilda's train ; she had advanced as if she were Avalking on eggs; she had boAved she never could tell Iioav; had stretched out her arm she never knew when ; the Queen had placed a gentle hand thereon ; and she had kissed it she never realized where. Flora, in spite of her presentiment, had creditably gone through the same performance ; but Lucy, her face in a gloAV, her breast in a storm, and her heart like a stone, at the last instant had dropped her superb dignity.

As a super drops his mantle at the very moment he should have kept it on, so all her fine airs fled from her the instant she most needed them ; she stumbled in her petticoats ; she couldn't get near enough to the Queen. And the kiss that should have exploded on the royal hand rent the air a few fathoms off like a signal falling foul at sea. Then the agony about the dress Avas unendurable. She bent, she heard it strain, strain again, then a cunning sound like the splitting of ship's timbers in a gale smote her ear ; in spite of a pound of hair dresser's pins, her hair, not particular Avhich end it stood on, raised, and the prickling at the roots droA*e all the blood from her heart to the upper part of her arms. Oh, to dare to look up ; to scream, to do any thing! — but impossible. Had anything happened?

Happily nothing ; for in spite of Avarnings her bodice proved stronger than her nerves. She finished her salutation in a Avhole frock, but a dead faint ; and if she had not created a sensation at her appearance, she certainly did on her disappearance. Proper restoratives brought her to, and Avhen she got aAvay from the Palace she realized the blessedness of exceptions to rules, viz. Tennyson's — " Of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these, ' it might have been.' ': It Avas indeed over. " The agony Avas somewhat abated." Happily, although the circumstances Avere not the same as those Byron describes in — in one of his poems — " Alas, we must aAvake before, We know such vision comes no more ; Lucy knew that her DraAving-Room if not her day was ended, and as they drove down the Mall in the budding twilight Enilda consoled and Flora com forted : but she for the first time in her life remarked "that she was glad America was a Republic," and grateful tears bursting from her eyes, a calm followed the storm, and she began to think not about her presentation but her dinner.

When she fully recovered the effects of her fright at what might have been, she was so grateful for the escape that she even contemplated making herself a British subject, and paved the way by sending cheques to all the London hospitals, until her enthusiasm, like her money, gradually grew " beautifully less." Enilda was now in the full swing of the London season. Her title of " Copper Queen " had followed her from America; she was oftener called tbat than by her name. Her beauty, modesty, and manners Avon all hearts. Royalty smiled upon her, and the upper ten bore her upon its classic but tired shoulders. She was invited to luncheons, dinners, balls, suppers, to routs and to races, to Henley and Hurlingbam, to attend fish-dinners at GreenAvich and fruit-stalls at KeAv. Her life was one Avhirl of pleasurable excitement.

London Avas so adorable that she Avondered bow she had ever even liked NeAV York. And John Claremont ! As yet they had never been alone together. When they met he was full of a grave politeness, Avhich, as she became accus tomed to it, daily threw her more and more off her guard. After that fareAvell at Euston, Avhere he had pressed her hand Avith such violence, he had never betrayed himself by a similar movement. They met as people meet Avho have nothing in common beyond the civilities of ordinary friendship. Enilda no longer trembled in secret, no longer pictured to herself any time Avhen she Avould hear from his lips an explanation that she had once thought him bound to give her. But AA'ould he ever make that explana tion ? Was there anything to say ? He had married another woman, not for tbat other one's money — that she Would never admit, but because he no longer truly loved her.