A Fatal Past. A novel

Front matter

A NOVEL BY DORA RUSSELL AUTHOR OF "the last signal," "footprints in the snow," 'the vicar's governess," "beneath the wave," etc., etc. IN ONE VOLUME LONDON SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT & CO., LIMITED All Rights Reserved PRINTED BV TILI.OTSON AND SON, MEALHOUSE LANE, BOLTON CONTENTS chapter FAGa I. — A LADY'S GIFT - - I II. — MR THOMAS TWISS 13 III. — AMONG THE HILLS 27 IV. — HELEN DRUMMOND - 34 V. — THE HEIR -------- 53 vi. — love's young dream -66 vii. — Helen's lover 82 vm. — A FIRST GRIEF ----.-.. [OO ix. — Helen's home - 112 X. — A FOOLISH PAIR ------- 127 XI. — THE YOUNG LAIRD 137 XII. TO-MORROW AND TO-MORROW AND TO-MORROW - 150 XIII. — A TERRIBLE SECRET 165 XIV. — A SUDDEN CHANGE 177 XV. — A SHADOWED LIFE - 191 XVI. — FAREWELL WORDS 209 XVII. — ELIZABETH'S LETTER ------ 217 XVIII. — NO NEWS - - - 229 XIX. — RISEN FROM THE DEAD 245 XX. — MR. TWISS LISTENS - - - - - 26 1 XXI. — ANOTHER CLIMATE - 272 XXII. - PURSUED - - 287 XXIII. — A DARK TEMPTATION 299 XXIV. — FATHER AND SON - 312 XXV. — COLONEL WALTER ROCHE 325 XXVI. — IN THE DUSKY WOODS CONTENTS. chapter page XXVII. — A STRAY SHOT 349 XXVIII. — A WELCOME FACE 360 XXIX. — BAD NEWS 376 XXX. — AT MRS. SOUTHWELL'S 387 XXXI. — HELEN'S SECRET - 4°° XXXII. — WATCHING - 412 XXXIII. — A BROKEN BOND r\2(> xxxiv. — Frank's wooing 436 XXXV.— A LAST REQUEST 452 XXXVI. — THE LAWYER'S VISIT 460 XXXVII. — THE ELDEST SON 477 XXXVIII. — A DIAMOND NECKLACE 490 XXXIX. — FIXING THE DAY 503 XL. — A LAST SUMMONS

Chapter I

A LADY'S GIFT. One dull afternoon in the early winter, as Mr. Francis Roche, a junior lieutenant in one of H.M. infantry regiments, was proceeding leisurely up Buckingham Palace-road after making a call in the neighbourhood, some one who was walking behind him deliberately touched his arm. Mr. Roche turned quickly round. "Pardon me," said the person who had laid his fingers on Mr. Roche's coat-sleeve, "but you are Mr. Roche, of the 107th regi ment, are you not ? " " I am Mr. Roche of the 107th," answered young Roche. " Then," said the person addressing him, who had now removed his fingers from Mr. Roche's sleeve to his own side-pocket, " I have a little — ah — commission for you here," (and he tapped his side-pocket) " a little commission from — well — a lady." And Mr. Roche saw by the street lamps that the man smiled.

B " A lady ?" repeated Mr. Roche, interested. "Yes, a lady," reiterated the person, though a more unlikely emissary of Cupid could not have been seen, " and if you will — well, accompany me to — that establishment op posite — I will deliver my commission, for which — well, for the satisfaction of all parties — perhaps you will be good enough to give me a receipt ? " " That establishment opposite ! Do you mean the old clothes shop?" said Mr. Roche, looking with surprise in the man's face. " It is not exactly an old clothes shop, sir," said the person, moving his thin form as if deprecatingly. "It is — well, a lady's wardrobe, and is kept by a most respectable and respected lady — in fact, by my wife, sir." " Humph ! " said Mr. Roche, for he did not like the man's looks. "She has connections, sir, with the first in the land," said the man, warming apparently with his subject.

" I won't name names — ladies don't like all their secrets told — but ladies of title, sir — ladies very rich, sir — go there — and if you will step across the road — " "But what for?" said Mr. Roche. He was only a young fellow this — straight, tall, and good-looking, with a tolerably fair opinion of his own attractions, as most men have at his age, and he had heard older men boast and lie about their love adventures, but he had withal a grain of prudence, and he did not, therefore, very rashly accept the man's dubious invitation. " I repeat, sir, I have a commission — a commission from a lady for you," answered the man. " It — it is for your advantage — if I may be allowed to say so." Young Roche hesitated for a moment, and then, perhaps, he remembered his own good looking face. "All right," he said.

" It's a queer busi ness, but if you'll go first I'll follow you; but if you get me into any trouble — well, it will be the worse for you." Francis Roche had dark, bright eyes, and he looked sharply at the man as he said this, and it must be admitted that the glance was not reassuring. He saw a mean face, pale coloured, fusty-looking hair and whiskers, small, yellow-green eyes, and a general ex pression of sneakyness which was not aoreeable. Then the lad looked again, and this time he laughed softly to himself as his eyes fell on the man's slight, poor figure, which one blow of Francis's young, strong fist could have sent a few yards across the road without much trouble to the sender. "He can't do me much harm, at any rate," thought Roche, remembering at that moment with some satisfaction sundry athletic feats of his own ; and so with a half-smile on his pleasant face the young soldier followed his conductor across Buckingham Palace-road, and up a few steps which led from the foot pavement to the shops.

Then in the doorway of a "lady's wardrobe " establishment the man he was following paused for a moment. " This way, sir," he said, and Francis Roche went after him into the shop or room beyond. It was a queer place in which he found himself, among the cast-off garments of the rich ! But not always of the rich. Here was a strange assortment. A seal-skin jacket, a ball dress which once had hung on fair white shoulders, perhaps, but which was now soiled and changed — and maybe its original owner might be too ! But we will leave the inanimate relics of the past, which now met Mr. Francis Roche's gaze on every side, and turn to the animate. " My wife, sir," said his conductor, making a sidelong movement of his lean hand to wards a woman who was standing behind the counter, and who had once been hand some — had, indeed, a good face still, for it was an honest face.

But she was an old woman ; older by ten or fifteen years than the sneaky little foxy man who called her his wife, and the sneaky little man looked fifty at the very least. But if he were small, slight, and contemptible, the wife made up in size, breadth, and good looks. She was seventeen stone weight, she always said, and no one who looked at her could have any reasonable doubt that she spoke the truth. And she had black, bright eyes, a clear pale skin, dark hair almost unstreaked with grey, and a firm, strong, double chin. A good-looking woman of her age, in fact, and honest withal, and her dark eyes had a soft look in them as they fell on Francis Roche's handsome young face. " Mr. Francis Roche ? " she said, in kindly accents. " Yes," he answered, looking at her boldly enough, " what do you want with me ?

" The woman smiled. " I don't want anything with you, sir," she said, " except — I am glad to see you — but my husband," (and she looked affectionately at the sneaky little man who had conducted Roche to the shop) "has a commission for you — a commission from a lady." These were the very words the man had used, and Roche gave a little laugh when he heard them. " Who is the mysterious lady ? " he said. " And what is the nature of the commission? " Then the little man came forward wriggling and smiling. " I — I — have it here," he said, tapping the side-pocket of his coat. " Shut the shop door, my dear" (this was to his wife). " Mr. Roche," he continued, advancing so near Francis that the young man drew a little back, "this is for you." And he drew out an envelope from his side-pocket, and put it in the young man's hand.

" What is there in it?" said Roche, for it was a very thick envelope ; in fact a parcel. The sneaky man rubbed his hands together, and cringed and wriggled more than ever. "Money, sir," he said ; "good money — a great deal of money, Mr. Roche." " Money ! " repeated Mr. Roche, and he turned from the counter and faced the man. " Do you suppose, then, that I'd take money from any lady ? " As he said this the gaslight in the middle of the shop fell straight on his good-looking face, showing it very plainly to someone who was watching him unseen. This was a beautiful woman ; a woman who was kneel ing behind a screen at the opposite side of the shop to the counter. This screen was composed of the usual miscellaneous col lection of a "lady's wardrobe," suspended on a strong cord across the shop. Yes, there, behind cloaks, petticoats, and shawls, all more or less the worse for wear, knelt a lady — a lady dressed in velvet and rich furs — a lady who looked as if she were unused to hide anywhere, and yet who never theless knelt in this mean place ; knelt and listened with moistened eyes and a strange quiver on her lips as she heard the words of the young soldier.

The stout woman behind the counter nodded her head approvingly as she heard them also. " That's all very right, Mr. Roche," she said, " very right, and like a gentleman, but this isn't ordinary money. It is sent to you by a friend — a relation, in fact — and I am charged to see it delivered into your own hands." " It is delivered into his own hands," said the sneaky man in an injured tone. "I know it is, Tommy," answered the stout woman. " My husband, sir," she continued, addressing Roche, "my husband, Mr. Twiss, and I are charged with this commission. We promised to deliver this money into your own hands, and the only condition attached to the gift is that you come here once a year — come yourself if you are in England — for a like sum. That is all my lady told me, I think." " Your lady ?" repeated Roche ; " but who is your lady ?

" " That is our secret, sir," said the stout woman, smiling. " Our secret," echoed the sneaky man, rubbing his lean hands together, apparently with satisfaction. " My secret and Mrs. Twiss's secret — ha! ha! ha!" And he gave a cackling laugh that set your teeth on edge as you listened to it " But how can you expect me , ' began Roche. " Look inside," said Mr. Twiss, still rubbing his hands together. " Open the envelope, young gentleman, and then we'll see — ha ! ha ! ha ! " And he emitted his horrible laugh again. Young Roche did open the envelope. He opened it, and drew out a great roll of bank notes. " Five hundred pounds ! " said Mr. Twiss, wriggling fearfully, in fact, twisting both his body and face into all sorts of contortions. " Five hundred pounds — flesh and blood could not resist that !

" "Five hundred pounds!" said young Roche, slowly, and his mind went back at that moment to sundry bills lying unpaid in his barrack room ; to a horse which he had coveted, but had been too poor to buy ; to a hundred things, in fact, pleasing to a young man's fancy. " But who sent it?" he said. "Anyone of my father's family — anyone I know ?" ■ " That's our secret," shrieked Mr. Twiss, apparently almost in convulsions; "our secret, — my secret and Mrs. Twiss's! " Young Roche now looked at the stout woman behind the counter. " Won't you tell me ?" he said. He was a handsome lad this, dark and comely, and was not used to have his requests refused by women, and this old woman smiled upon him like the rest. "You must not ask me, sir," she said; " but one thing I may tell you, there's nothing dishonourable in it.

The lady who sends you this money has a right to send it — it is her own money, in fact, and nothing will please her so much as the idea that you will enjoy it. You are young, and young people want many things — and you mustn't hurt the lady, sir, by refusing her gift." Young Roche was silent for a moment. Then he said — " If I were sure there was nothing dis honourable attached — nothing that would soil a gentleman's hand — " "Ha! ha! ha!" shrieked Mr. Twiss. "I told you to look inside. Nothing like money, sir ; nothing, nothing." " It depends upon where it comes from," said Roche. " But I repeat, if this is all right—" "It is, indeed, Mr. Roche," said Mrs. Twiss, earnestly. "Then you will tell the lady from me," continued Roche, " that I am greatly obliged — that I feel her kindness very much — but that it would add to that kindness immensely if I were permitted to see her — to thank per sonally the generous friend who has given me so much."

As young Roche said these words, the lady kneeling hidden behind the suspended petti coats and shawls gave an audible sigh. " What is that ? " said Roche, turning sharply round. " It's the cat," said Mrs. Twiss, after a moment's hesitation. " It's the cat ! " cried Mr. Twiss, wriggling worse than ever, " the cat and kittens — ha! ha! ha!" ' I thought it sounded like a sigh," said young Roche. Mrs. Twiss moved uneasily behind the counter. "Oh ! no, sir," she said. " But excuse an old woman — put your notes out of sight, for London's a queer place, and it's dangerous carrying much money about. You will be safer the sooner you are at home now." "Is that a hint?" said Roche, smiling. " Do you want me to go away, Mrs. Twiss ?" Mrs. Twiss smiled. " I want you to get your money safely home, sir," she said.

But I must have a receipt," said Mr. Twiss, hastily. " I have it made out here, sir," and he laid a crumpled piece of paper with a stamp on it upon the counter. " Please just sign your name here." Francis Roche did sign his name, and then after a few more wrords left the shop. " Ask the lady," he however said again to Mrs. Twiss before he quitted the " lady's wardrobe," "if she will see me? Give her my message — say her generous kindness would be twice as good if I might see her." " I will give your message, sir," said Mrs. Twiss. " Good evening — -do not forget to come back once a year — this day year I will hope to see you again." " You will see me to-morrow," answered Roche, smiling. " I will call to-morrow afternoon to get the answer to my message — be sure you have it ready for me." Mrs. Twiss laughed, and then as the young soldier disappeared she left the counter, crossed the shop, and lifting up part of the miscellaneous articles hanging on the cord at the other side of the room, went into the presence of the lady who was kneeling there, hidden behind the screen of garments.

"Oh! my lady," she said, addressing her, " what you must have felt ! " The lady rose from her knees at these words, and sat wearily down in a chair which Mrs. Twiss drew towards her. "Yes, it was terrible — terrible," she said, in a low tone of pain, and she put her hand to her head. "Yet I am glad I have seen him — seen him once more." " He is a fine, handsome young man," said Mrs. Twiss. " Yes," answered the lady, as if she were thinking. " But I must go now. Will you tell your husband to call the carriage, Lorimer ? " " Yes, my lady," said Mrs. Twiss. '"Tommy," she called, putting her head through the screen of clothes, and speaking to her husband, who was still standing near the counter, "call my lady's carriage." Mr. Twiss hurried out of the shop to obey this order, and then Mrs. Twiss once more spoke to the lady.

" You heard what he said, my lady ?" she asked. " What answer shall I give him when he calls to-morrow ? " The lady sighed as she answered. ''Tell him," she said, "that she who sent him this gift prays for him night and day — but I cannot see him — you must tell him I cannot see him — but wherever he goes — tell him this — my love will follow him."

Chapter II. Mr

THOMAS TWISS. Five minutes later Mr. and Mrs. Twiss were standing together alone beside the counter of the lady's wardrobe. "My lady's" carriage (a plain dark green one, with a coronet painted on the panels), had come and gone, and in it "my lady" had left the shop, Mrs. Twiss escorting her to the carriage, for Mrs. Twiss had been lady's maid first to my lady's mother, and afterwards to "my lady " herself in her unwedded days. Then in a moment of weakness Lorimer (as she was then named) had married Mr. Thomas Twiss. Lorimer had saved money in her lady's service, and Mr. Thomas Twiss was a lawyer's clerk, and as a "promising in vestment " (chiefly) Mr. Thomas Twiss had married Lorimer. She was years older than her husband, but she was a good honest woman, and actually in love with Mr. Thomas Twiss.

What she saw in him no one could tell. He was ugly, poor, and not very fascinating ; but the fact remained the same. Lorimer married him for love, and loved him still. At this moment (five minutes after "my lady's" carriage had driven away), this beloved one was looking a little pensive. "What are you thinking of, Tommy?" said Mrs. Twiss, laying her hand affection ately on his lean shoulder. " It's a deal of money to give away," said Tommy, with a contemplative air. " You mean the money my lady has given Mr. Roche ? " said Mrs. Twiss, inquiringly. Tommy nodded his head. "A deal of money to go out of one's hands, as it were," he said again, and this time he sighed. " Well, she can afford it," answered Mrs. Twiss, cheerfully, " and it doesn't cost us anything, Tommy, this whim of my lady's." "I had it in my hands," said Tommy, sadly, "and I don't know why — but it a kind of stuck to my fingers."

" Oh, Tommy, it wasn't yours ! " said Mrs. Twiss, in fond reproval. "It might have been," retorted Tommy. " How, my dear ? " Tommy made no reply to this conjugal in quiry. He did not tell the partner of his life that a temptation had assailed him when " my lady " and Mrs. Twiss had instructed him to give this money to Mr. Francis Roche. His instructions had been to get Mr. Roche into the " lady's wardrobe" if he could, but if he couldn't to give him the parcel of notes in the street. Tommy's temptation had been to run away with the notes — run away from the partner of his life with five hundred pounds in his pocket ! But Tommy had resisted the temptation — firstly, because he was afraid he might be caught ; secondly, because Mrs. Twiss had saved more than five hundred pounds; and, thirdly, because he led a very easy life at the " lady's wardrobe " ; his wife spending many hours daily in ministering to his creature com forts, and as she was a good cook, Tommy valued her accordingly.

Still, in spite of all these reasons, Tommy now felt himself to. be a virtuous, almost an injured man. He had had this money in his hands, and he had not run away with it : therefore Tommy felt he was virtuous, and felt a little sad, perhaps, also, that he had missed an opportunity. "Well, I hope he'll make a good use of it," said Mrs. Twiss, seeing that the money he had given to young Roche was still pressing on her husband's mind. " He's a fine young fellow, at any rate." "Is he like his father?" said Tommy, looking up sharply in his wife's face. " Hush, Tommy," answered Mrs. Twiss, almost with a frightened look ; " there are some things we must not talk about." " That we must not talk about ? " said Tommy, going up to his wife and putting his thin arm lovingly round her substantial shoulders.

" Have you any secrets from tne, Martha ? Ought you to have any secrets ? " " Not of my own, Tommy," replied Mrs. Twiss, tenderly. " But there are secrets sometimes in families — " " Whisper this one, my love," said Mr. Tommy Twiss, laying his yellow cheek against his wife's ; " it's safe, you know, with me — as safe as it is with you." Mrs. Twiss was overcome by Tommy's cajolements. She whispered a few words in his ear, and then told him a long story she had no right to tell. Tommy listened with satisfaction. He thought he saw his way, as his wife went on with her tale, to future emolument. " But you will never breathe this, Tommy — never to a living soul ? " said Mrs. Twiss, anxiously, after having done all the mischief that she could do. "Never!" said Tommy, solemnly, considering at that moment how he could turn her information to the best advantage.

" He's not to blame, at any rate," con tinued Mrs. Twiss, speaking of Mr. Francis Roche. " and he seems a very fine young man." " Very," again answered Tommy, solemnly and briefly, for he was still going on with his mental calculations. In the meantime, Mr. Francis Roche, "the fine young man" Mrs. Twiss was speaking of, was confiding to a friend the wonderful piece of good luck which had occurred to him. This friend was an officer in his own regiment — the Hon. Arthur Curzon. Mr. Curzon listened to Francis Roche's tale with some secret envy it must be admitted. Five hundred pounds in ready money would have made Mr. Curzon, he was thinking as his friend went on with his story, a happy man. If Mr. Francis Roche had debts, Mr. Arthur Curzon had more If Francis Roche had expensive tastes, Arthur Curzon had likewise.

They were, in fact, two good looking young men with very little money to spend. Arthur Curzon was the third son of c a poor peer, and Francis Roche had been brought up and educated by his uncle, Colonel Roche, who was not a rich man and had told his nephew very plainly when he went into the army that he would allow him one hundred a year until he got his company, and that after this event occurred he (Francis) must depend upon his own resources. Thus Francis Roche had had very little money to spend. He had managed to get along somehow, but he very often nearly got fast. "And you're to have it everyyear?" said Mr. Curzon, almost with a groan. " Every year — five hundred a year ? " "So the old woman said," answered Francis Roche. " She said I had to go every year for a like sum, and that this was the only condition the lady attached to the gift."

" Good heavens ! " exclaimed Curzon. " And can you not think — can you not imagine who sent it ? " " Not in the very least," truthfully answered Roche. "Any of your mother's family, do you think ? " asked Curzon. " My mother," said Roche, frankly, " was a Frenchwoman, and died, poor thing, when I was born, and though my uncle has never told me so, I do not fancy her people were wealthy : indeed, he said to me one day, I should never inherit anything from them." "Who can it be?" went on Curzon. " Someone must have fallen in love with you Roche ? " Roche laughed. "'Tis well it's a rich 'someone ' then," he said. " But I think, Curzon, I should con sult my uncle about it ? " Curzon considered a moment. " Unwise ! " he said. " If you consult the old boy you may bring trouble on you know not whom.

No, if I were you I would just enjoy it — have a fling with it — it mayn't really come again." In pursuance of this advice the two young men dined together, ordering the most expensive dinner they could order, and then went together to one of the theatres, to see a famous piece which at this time was making a sensation. It was a crowded house, and Roche and Curzon sat in the stalls close to the side boxes. Presently Curzon directed Roche's attention to a lady who was sitting in one us these boxes half hidden by the curtain. " Do you see that lady ? " he said. " That is Lady Ennismore. My father always says she is the handsomest woman he knows. What do you think ? " Roche, of course, gave his opinion of Lady Ennismore's charms with the air of a connoisseur, though in truth he could not see the lady very plainly.

" Lord Ennismore is my godfather," con tinued Curzon. " I wonder if he's in the box — there's a man behind the curtains, don't you see. I did not know they were in town ; I must go and speak to them." But before Curzon could fulfil his inten tion Lord Ennismore, who had recognised him, came round from his box to speak to his godson. " Why, Arthur Curzon, whoever expected to see you ? " said a genial-looking man, laying his hand in friendly fashion on Curzon's shoulder. Curzon looked round and rose. " I thought it was you, Lord Ennismore," he said. " To be sure," said Lord Ennismore, warmly, shaking Curzon's hand. "And what good luck brought you here, Arthur ? " Lord Ennismore had a pleasant face. You recognised the man's honest, open character at once as you looked at it. He was good-looking, though not quite hand some, for his nose was too short for absolute beauty ; but his frank, clear blue eyes, with their long black lashes and brows, and his fresh clear skin and tall well-developed figure, were strong points in favour of his comeliness.

And those who knew him best loved him best. He was, in fact, a man in a thousand — generous, honourable, sweet-tem pered, and simple-hearted almost as a child. He was about forty-five, his brown hair streaked here and there with grey, and he was the husband of one of the most admired and popular women in town. " And Lady Ennismore ? " asked Curzon, after he had explained to Lord Ennismore that he and his friend Roche had got leave for a week, and had run up to town to have a look at the theatres and so on. " She is quite well," answered Lord Ennismore, in reply to Curzon's inquiry about his wife. " She's up yonder ; you must come and speak to her, Arthur." " Yes, I shall be delighted," said Curzon. " We're only up for a few days on some business," continued Lord Ennismore, " but Katherine wanted to see the last sensation, of course.

Well, Mr. Roche, and what do you think of it ? " Roche laughed, and gave his opinion ; and a few minutes later the good-natured, genial Ennismore was pressing Roche to come up with Curzon to his wife's box. " Of course, come," he said. " You are a friend of Arthur Curzon's, and I've had the honour of knowing Master Arthur Curzon since his interesting babyhood. Yes, my boy," he went on, patting Curzon's shoulder, we're old friends, aren't we ? " I've good reason to say so," answered Curzon, smiling. " Come along then," said Lord Ennismore, and the two young men followed him to Lady Ennismore's box. " Here is Arthur Curzon and a friend of his, Mr. Roche," said Ennismore to his wife, as they entered the box. Lady Ennismore's face suddenly flushed and then grew pale. But in a moment she recovered herself, and bowed courteously to Koche and shook hands with Curzon.

Then after a few words Roche drew a chair and sat down by Lady Ennismore's side. Lady Ennismore was famous for her charming manner. She never tried to be witty, never tried to shine, but in her society sveryone was delighted with themselves and with her. " She charms by making us believe that we are charming," a satirical old gentleman once said of her. But in truth it was the great sympathy of her nature which made her so delightful a companion. To give others pleasure was a real pleasure to her, and her self-forgetfulness, her tender, noble thoughts made her face seem beautiful. She was, in fact, considered a beauty, and yet her features were certainly not perfect. But she was a handsome woman, with a gracious, graceful manner, and she was a woman also of the highest reputation. Francis Roche sat and talked to her as if he had known her for years before the sensational play came to an end.