The Skeleton in the Cupboard

Front matter

By LADY SCOTT, Authoress of ' The Henpecked Husband,' ' The Only Chdd,' %c. SECOND EDITION. London : SAUNDERS, OTLEY, AND CO., 66, BROOK STREET, HANOVER SQUARE. i86i. {The right of Translation is reserved.) LONDON 1 PRINTED BT W 00 D FALL AND KINDER, ANGEL COURTj^SKJNNER STREET. CHAPTER T. In the prettiest of the London suburbs, on the brink of a wide common, and standing within its own iron gates, there gleamed through its nest of trees one of the most imposing and complete of what house-agents would desig nate " modern mansions," simply called, by its contented owners, The Laurels. There are some houses that bear about them the stamp of wealth. From the moment that the iron gates open to receive you on the delicate gravel, to that in which you find yourself passing through the richly-carpeted hall into the still more costly drawing-room, you feel that you are breathing the mysterious atmosphere of money ! money ! money !

And now that house bore an aspect of more than usual beauty and comfort. There was going to be a wedding there, the wedding of the only daughter, the only child and heiress, and Mr. and Mrs. Blackstone were sparing neither pains, nor time, nor trouble, nor money, to celebrate the event with all the honour due to the brilliant alliance which Euphemia, their fondly-loved Phemy, was about to contract. To the astonishment— almost to the consternation — of the parents, who lived only for her, and who, because she had attained the age of twenty-two, they had imagined they should keep with them for ever, this young girl had, at last, made her selection, or rather, her time had come, and she was now on the eve of her grand match. Destiny, one fine day, had brought, in a curious and _B unexpected manner, a middle-aged baronet to The Laurels —Sir Felix Bohun of Bohun Court— and he, who had been accidentally drawn thither on a matter of business in which it was within Mr. Blackstone's vocation to assist him, at last found himself impelled by a question, not of law, but of love ; and ended by laying his heart and all his wide worldly possessions at the feet of that fair creature whom he invited to become the third Lady Bohun.

Dazzled and delighted, for Euphemia was ambitious, the young girl did not keep the trembling captive long in suspense. It is true that Sir Felix had seen more than five-and-forty summers, and that in marryVng him she would have to run the chance of comparison with two pre decessors, both ladies of high degree ; but she was not one to care for either of these little drawbacks. "Had he been a widower with half-a-dozen grown-up daugh ters, mamma," said she, as she watched the sealing of the letter of acceptation, " we might have some just grounds for hesitation, and, I dare say, I should have said no, immediately ; but, as it is, he is a bridegroom without encum brances, and I like him all the better for his age. A younger man might not have given me so much my own way, and that 1 must have, as you well know, darling mother, even if I married the Marquis of Carabas."

Chapter II

What did Mr. Blackstone, good easy man, gain by his interference in domestic matters? What does anybody ever gain for giving the advice for which they are solicited? Nothing. He had been consulted, it is true; that compli ment had certainly been paid him. but his opinions had not met with that respect and obedienee which one would have expected, considering that it was generally supposed Mrs. and Miss Blackstone never did anything without " consulting Mr. Blackstone." Phemy Blackstone was young, gay, and very pretty ; full of health and spirits, exuberant, with happiness, words of advice and caution fell lightly on her ear, and the future was to her nothing but a still brighter phase of what had ever been to her a bright existence. All her life lono her father and mother had lived but for her, and now an other devoted heart was a toy in her hands.

All her life long she had been nursed in wealth and luxury ; now rank was to be added te these advantages. In truth, it was enough to turn a young girl's head ; it was as if the cup were full of prosperity to the very brim, and as for any drawback, how could that be ? " How odd papa is ! " were all the thanks the tender, loving, anxious old man — for both he and the mother were old for so young a daughter — got for his pains. " How very odd he is ! What an idea about my not being mistress of everything, and about the tyranny of a servant, too, mamma. What did he mean ?" " Oh ! I know that old story so well," said Mrs. Black stone, smiling. " From tlie very day your papa and I married, that old sentence of his has been ready for every occasion." "But why, mamma? How? How can any servant tyrannize ?

What does he mean ? " " My dear, there was an old story, something that always made my blood run cold, of a clerk, an old, old man, too, in your grandfather's counting-house, who gained such an ascendancy in the family that their very souls hardly ap peared to be their own, so fearful was his influence, and their dread of him. At your grandfather's death-bed the scenes were so dreadful that, your papa says, they have haunted him ever since. Had not your papa worked hard — slaved, indeed — for the fortune we are blessed with, he would have been a poor man up to this day for all that his father left him ! Not a farthing of your grandfather's property was secured, except a large annuity to this old man, and yet I have heard your papa say the life he led him ah, well ! " " But, mamma, that was a man.

No woman eould ever exercise tyranny ? — a woman, or a maid-servant rather, could never be in a position " " Oh ! no, my dear; don't think any more of it. You have not heard the expression so often as I have, or it would not make any impression. But now, about Pons ford. We must arrange about her coming." Yes, time was getting on. The trousseau was coming home day by day, and day by day, too, the excitement grew greater. Friends flocked in. The Laurels was positively besieged, and every one was charmed with the Bohun B o diamonds, reset, not for the third time, but for the first ! The two former Ladies Bohun had been content to wear them as they were, proud of their purity, delighted when people called them rococo. Not so the third Lady Bohun. " Dear Sir Felix, I like modern settings so much better— might I have just the ear-rings reset?

Are you angry at my presumption? Have you any fancy for this antiquated style ? " So spake the fair fiancee, and what could the happy man reply, but that nothing in her could be presumption; and that he lived but to study her pleasure and happiness. The consequence was, all the diamonds were sent to Turner's, where all the Bohuns had dealt for generations, and draw ings and designs were to be forwarded to Miss Blackstone. Sir Felix was very little at The Laurels, he had so much business on his hands, but he wrote a letter to his fair Euphemia regularly every day, sometimes twice a day, and she read them the moment she had time. One of the bridesmaids-to-be commented one day on this stoicism, and the fair Euphemia's reply was, that she was not a literary character. She could not bear reading or writing, and reading a letter was next worse to writing one.

" But does not Sir Felix expect you to answer his epistles ?" " Oh ! yes ; and I do." " What, without reading his ?" " Oh ! 1 tell you how I manage. If I have been so busy that I have not had an instant to read his last two or three, 1 write him one crossed all over, and end in a clear place in a fine bold hand, 'your own loving Phemy,' and he is quite satisfied. Men never read crossed letters, so I know 1 am safe ; and, to tell you a secret, he is what he calls rather near-sighted. I know what sort of near-sightedness it is, but never mind— dear old fellow! he sees how to choose jewels wonderfully well, and that is the sort of sight that pleases me, my dear!" " Lucky Phemy ! " sighed her friend; "you must give us all a helping hand when you ascend the throne. Are there no more of the same family? no brothers?"

" One brother," said Euphemia, carelessly, " only one a younger brother, of course, but I don't know anything about hitn ; he will not signify much to me, you know. I suppose he is in some sort of profession or other, and doubtless he will come to the wedding, but whether he is worth having or not, I cannot tell ; I should say not, be cause a little bird whispered to me, that the Bohuns were never rich, but that both the first and second Lady Bohuns had large fortunes " " And the third, Phemy?" " Ah ! my dear, but the third does not mean to do what the first and second did ! die first, and leave it all to Sir Felix! But, some day, I will ask all about his young brother, never fear ; and if I find it worth while sending for you to Bohun Court, depend upon it I will ; and now about the bonnets " Miss Blackstone was a young lady gifted with a great flow of conversation, and this had hitherto been the music in which the ears of her parents chiefly delighted.

To herself, also, at the present crisis, there was no theme on which she so loved to dilate, with all the powers of lan guage, as that of her future prospects, so she talked inces santly of them, morning, noon, and night, to every friend she had, and as the prosperous of this world have many friends, the name of her listeners was Legion. It was only in strictest confidence, when their backs were fairly turned on The Laurels, that these bosom friends ventured to whisper amongst themselves, " Did you ever know any one half so absurd as Phemy Blackstone? the girl's head is turned ! " But there was one person to whom Phemy talked with out the slightest misgiving as to whether her wrapt atten tion and sympathy were interested or not; one person who entered into all her projects, assisted her by word and by act, and with noiseless rapidity arranged the whole of the elaborate trousseau, and disposed it away in the various boxes without ever asking where should that go, or what should be done with this-.

Many of Phemy's young friends had an eye to some of the cast-off bracelets and much of the bijouterie which the Lady Bohun-to-be now considered beneath her notice ; she was sharp enough to see aU that, and a great deal more, in all those who crowded round her, save one — this one was Ponsford, the new maid, who arrived at The Laurels a week before the wedding, and who, as soon as her bonnet was off, seemed to enter upon her duties as though she had been Miss Blackstone's maid all her life. Phemy was delighted with her, and the first day that Sir Felix arrived in town, and came out to The Laurels to dine, she began to expatiate, with her usual fluency, on the merits of Ponsford. " And, dear Sir Felix " (she always called him ' dear Sir Felix; ' he had begged her to call him Felix, but her merry young lips had never been able to achieve the feat), " dear Sir Felix, she knows all about you and Bohun Court; only think!"

The thought brought a shadow over the brow of Sir Felix in a moment, and he paused before he answered. " I never even heard her name," said he, at last. " Then you are a wicked, forgetful, ungrateful man, for she holds you in the greatest respect and admiration." " Ponsford, Ponsford ?: — No. I can think of no one of that name." " Mira Ponsford ; does that help you ? A tall, slight woman, very fair, very calm and concentrated (mamma calls her) in her manners ; wonderful eyes, so deep, and steady, and searching ; a low, clear voice, just like a stage whisper, and without being the least handsome, a face that clings to your memory." "Not to mine, then, fair enthusiast," said Sir Felix. smiling ; " and I only hope no accomplished impostor has practised on your credulity, for I certainly have not the honour of her acquaintance."

"Now, that is very odd," persisted Euphemia; "there must be some mistake, and the mistake, dear Sir Felix, must be yours. She was maid to a Lady Mary Topham, who was a daughter of " " Oh ! " interrupted Sir Felix, " I used to know all the Tophams well. Topham himself is a hunting man in my county, and my intimate friend. Oh, I see ! Yes, yes ! Of course she has been at Bohun Court in th« lifetime of Lady Mary." " Yes ; and of Lady Merivale, he* mother," said Eu phemia. " No doubt, no doubt— but I never saw her ; however I dare say it is all right, and I hope she may prove a perfect treasure for your sake ; but as to her acquaintance, that I am reluctantly obliged to ignore, for I never even heard her name." " Now, that puzzles me," continued the pertinacious bride, who was one of those people who will wear a sub ject threadbare, " because she seems to know you so well " All at once a light appeared to break in upon Sir Felix's mind, and he raised his hand with a gesture of sudden intelligence.

" I know ! " he exclaimed, "I know now! How could I be so stupid as to forget? I perfectly remember the person you mean ; not by sight, but by reputation." At this word Mrs. Blackstone became on the qui vive. " Dear me, Sir Felix — good gracious! — I hope we have not been too precipitate ? The character we received from Lady Merivale was so very satisfactory." " Don't misunderstand me," said Sir Felix, when he could edge in a word ; " I have no doubt all is right, as I before said ; but what makes me remember her by repu tation is, a name by which my brother always insisted on calling Lady Merivale's maid — your Ponsford, I imagine — and which used to make poor Lady Mary so angry. That name was so caught up at Bohun Court, that really it seemed quite to belong to the poor woman." "And what was it?" asked Euphemia.

" The Vampire," said Sir Felix abruptly, and there was a dead pause. Mrs. Blackstone looked at her daughter, and the latter turned very pale. " I wish," murmured she, looking down,- and playing with her rings, " that you had not told me, Sir Felix, flow extremely horrid." Sir Felix laughed. It had been a joke of his brother's, he said, and had seemed so exactly to suit the young woman; " though," added he, " I cannot, with truth, say I assented to the likeness from personal experience, only my guests used to say so, and Lady Mary used to scold my brother for drawing such a comparison for her fa vourite." " Ah ! then she was a favourite ? " • " Oh ! certainly she was. They could do nothing without her. As for Lady Merivale— my dear Euphemia, you have never seen the countess, but I hope some day you will— I cannot think how she ever came to part with her, even to Ladv Mary ; still less can I guess why, when Lady Mary died, she did not go back to her old mistress ; for, 1 assure you, it was a standing joke amongst us all, down at Bohun, that old Lady Merivale must fall to pieces were it not for the vampire !

" Euphemia was curious to know the reason. She was not much used to society — not used at all to the society of venerable grandees, compelled, by their position, to live on the face of the world, and to make the best of their ap pearance. What did Sir Felix mean by Lady Merivale 's falling to pieces? " Because, my Euphemia " — and the baronet looked at his charming and unsophisticated piece of innocence with delighted eyes — "there never was any one, living and breathing, so completely made up as that old lady. My brother had a curious story about her." " Your brother seems fond of odd names and stories," said Euphemia, rather pertly. " He is very quaint and original," smiled Sir Felix ; " you will be charmed with him, my dear Euphemia." "And what was his curious story?" inquired the young lady, evasively.

"Oh, excellent! He happened to be staying at Lord M-erivale's once when there was an alarm of fire in the castle. The galleries were filled with smoke, and the rooms were filled with guests, who all flew down to the great hall in any attire they could find, but, strange to say, the countess was nowhere to be seen. Lady Mary was in hysterics, shrieking for her mother, and imploring every one to save her ; whilst all the time the old lady was standing in the midst of them, not daring to confess herself, since not one of the twenty people who sat with her every day at dinner had an idea that there, in beauty unadorned", shorn of all her fair proportions, and minus all her ' sub stitutions,'as Guy used to call them, stood the Countess of Merivale herself! " " And how did it end? " said Euphemia, quite angrily.

" By the vampire's carrying, her off in triumph, and dedaring -the next morning that her ladyship had escaped to the cellars before any of the household had heard the alarm given ! " " Ha ! " exclaimed Mr. Blackstone, speaking for the first time after an hour's devoted attention to the conversation " how fearful to be thus at the mercy of a dependant ! of how many secrets these people often possess themselves, and what fatal use they might make of the power with which the possession invests them ! I remember, in days gone by, my old mother used to say " " Oh, papa! " laughed Euphemia. "Yes, my dear, my old mother used to say, no tyranny like the tyranny of a servant." "And I can believe -it, though I never experienced it," said Sir Felix; "at the same time, all this casts no reflection on Ponsford."

"Mamma," said the young lady, as she went upstairs, with her arm round her mother's waist, when the evening closed, " I have a certain conviction, though I never saw him, and know nothing of him, that I shall hate Mr. Bohun ! "

Chapter III

Turn we now to another scene, a fairer scene than the suburban villa, in spite of its nineteenth-century elevation, and all its modern improvements ; gaze now, ye eyes that love the old baronial halls of England, on that large, straggling pile of buildings, gray with age and green with ivy, and see what a grand old house Sir Felix Bohun called his home. Here and there a turret, here and there a projection ; windows of all sorts and all sizes ; and the whole sur rounded by a broad gravel terrace, from the centre of which sloped a broad flight of stone steps, then another gravel terrace, and another flight of steps ; a third gravel terrace, and one last flight of steps — these leading to a wide park, studded with groups of trees, sheep under some, and deer under others, and the grass pressed down into little narrow paths, not meant to be paths at all, but short cuts to different distant points, too pleasant and convenient for either Sir Felix or Mr. Bohun to do away with.

This was the back of Bohun Court. The entrance was on the gloomy side of the house, looking to the north ; and there the stone courtyard, and the stone lions-rampant, and the massive iron-bound oaken door, kept up all the dignity of a baronial hall. But to turn to the sunny side. On a bright, fresh morn ing in early spring, when the sun's rays fell so warmly on the breakfast-room that its long windows were open, a gentleman stepped out on the terrace, with an open letter in his hand, and looked anxiously across the park, as if watching for an expected visitor. He had not to look long, for, taking advantage of one of the above-mentioned short cuts, another figure was soon seen emerging from an avenue of chestnuts, and wending its way along one of the little beaten tracks. Mr. Bohun stood still and watched it advancing.

As it approached nearer, his eyes seemed to wander to the land scape, and rest almost lovingly on its beauty. The haze of a spring morning, and an easterly breeze, was spread like a gauze veil over hill and dale, and over the Bohun woods, though the dark tops of the fir-trees peeped out here and there, and the wavy outline of distant downs be came every moment more and more distinct. Mr. Bohun stood without his hat, and on his forehead, high and somewhat bald, could be counted many more wrinkles than even the eyes of an enemy would have de tected on that of Sir Felix. It was a face of extreme gentleness and benevolence ; but though nature had given him a five years' advantage of his brother in point of youth, every one would have said the ages were reversed, and pronounce in favour of Sir Felix, for Mr. Bohun looked eare-wom and old.

All his life long, Mr. Bohun had been the working brother, and Sir Felix the man of the gay world, born for society and pleasure, and carefully avoiding all the worries of every-day existence. Since these worries must fall to the lot of some one person in a family, even if not to all the members it so happened that destiny had laid them on the shoulders of Mr. Bohun. He managed the estate, lured the servants, heard the grievances, paid the bills, and would have laid down his life (metaphorically) for Bohun Court ; so it was a labour of love, though a labour all the same. And yet there had been two Lady Bohuns ?— Yes. The first a fine lady, who looked upon the venerable house as a retreat for a fortnight at Easter and a few months in winter, and hated it all the rest of the year. The unob trusive usefulness of Mr. Bohun gave her no sort of con cern ; it was nothing to her, except that it left Sir Felix at liberty to spend the springs in London and the summers abroad with her.

Consequently, during her reign, he was acknowledged and authorized regent. Even down to the village children, more hats were doffed to Mr. Bohun than ever little ragged brims were pulled to Sir Felix. Then came the second Lady Bohun. She was a con firmed invalid. Wealth and beauty had been hers, but health had been denied her. To her Mr. Bohun was the most devoted of brothers. Sir Felix was invariably kind and good to her, but in her state of health she could not tie him down to Bohun Court— it was so dull for him— all very well when the house was full of company, for the hunting season, for instance, or for the pheasants ; but in the dull season, when he had always been accustomed to gad about, she would not, for worlds, condemn him to a quietude which depressed him — no ; he should go and amuse him self.

" Guy and I will keep house ; we shall do very well ; and you will come back and refresh us with all the news, which will suit us far better than entering into the gaiety our selves." And so the regency went on during all the lingering years of the second Lady Bohun's fragile existence, and to her Mr. Bohun was the greatest of comforts, her counsellor, her almoner, her companion, and her friend. Day by day, all day long if she liked, Mr. Bohun was at her beck and call to take her orders and do her commis sions, light as air as they always were ! — to walk by the side of her garden chair, and guide its diminutive pony through the paths to all her favourite flower beds, or else to the doors of the cottages which she regularly visited. It was his study, his happiness, and his pastime to make those suffering years pass as pleasantly to her as possible ; and when, at last, the garden-chair became too great an exertion, and Lady Bohun was reduced to her sofa, the very lawn in front of her morning room was cut up and laid out under her direction, and his superintendence, that to the last she might inhale the fragrance she so loved, and die in the midst of her favourite occupations ; and this, in fact, she did, and Sir Felix became this time, in reality, a disconsolate widower.

And Mr. Bohun, did he not miss her? Yes ! every hour of his busy day; for, whilst Sir Felix went abroad for change and consolation, he remained at his post, haunted by her presence, and living to execute, to the utmost of his power, every wish that she had ever expressed when the scene was closing to her. And now people really looked upon Mr. Bohun as safe. He had been heir presumptive (not heir presumptuous) for five-and-forty years ; now they said he might surely be called heir apparent, and not a voice in all the country round but cordially exclaimed they hoped it might be so. In fact, Sir Felix himself had. given it out he never in tended to marry again ; and he went abroad, and ran the gauntlet of every sort of temptation, and came home again still free, resolved to settle down at Bohun Court, and share with his brother the care of an estate which the love of his lost w-ife had hallowed.

Business, however, connected with his possessions, took him up to town. Now let us go back to the figure ad vancing towards Mr. Bohun with outstretched hands, the figure of a gray-haired man, his long locks streaming in the air, a set colour in his thin, worn cheeks, and a white neck-cloth to betoken his vocation. " My dear friend, my dear Mr. Bohun ! I have made all the haste I possibly could ; and my anxiety has given wings to my feet. I see a letter in your hand—confir mation or refutation? Tell me, in a word, is the rumour true ? " The panting breathlessness of tho speaker drew a hearty laugh from Mr. Bohun. " Perfectly true," said he, cheerfully ; " and five pa<-'es, four of them crossed, full of excuses, which are perfectly unnecessary from my brother, inasmuch as I had no possible right to demand them, no more than I wish him to make them.

The rumour is quite true. Sir Felix is really going to be married again, and this is the announcement." Mr. Bohun held up the letter, and the Rector of Bohun sat down on a bench, overpowered by his feelings. " I did not think it, I would not believe it," said he, at last, as he flourished his pocket-handkerchief in the air ; " and I said to my wife, this very morning, Mary, no one but Mr. Bohun shall tell me of it ! " " And Mr. Bohun himself tells you, my good friend," said the heir presumptive, descending from his temporary pedestal with all the equanimity of his character ; " indeed, 1 am not knocked down by the blow, not half so much as you appear yourself ! cheer up, and remember that twice before this has happened, and each time I have been so fortunate as not to be separated from you.

It is only the old story over again ! " " Yes, but the risk, the risk ! " ejaculated the old clergy man, shaking his head ; " who knows what revolution the step may occasion ? My dear friend, if we lost you, what should we do ? How can we spare you if circumstances should require you to give us less of your personal and moral support ? " " Twice before the same risk has been run," said Mr. Bohun, "and still here I am amongst you. Twice before I have played the part of a brother to my brother's wife, and I see no just cause why my tliird essay should prove less successful than hitherto." " Ah ! my dear sir," persisted the old clergyman, " it is, as I said before, the risk ! the risk ! and at Sir Felix's time of life, too ! Dear me ! who would have thought it ? " " I," said Mr. Bohun, firmly ; " and I always have thought it— that my brother was not the man to settle down quietly as a widower.