Sir Anthony

Front matter

SIR ANT HONY, VOL. I. NEW NOVELS AT ALL LIBRARIES. BENT ON CONQUEST. By Edith Maud Nicholson. 3 vols. QUIXOTE, THE WEAVER. By C. G. Furley Smith. 3 vols. THE FINGER OF SCORN. By Reginald E. Salwey, author of ' Wildwater Terrace.' 2 vols. BELHAVEN. By Max Beresford, author of ' Bonnie Dundee.' 2 voIb. MORE KIN THAN KIND. By B. Loftus Tottenham 3 vols. LONDON: HURST & ELACKETT, LIMITED. SIR ANTHONY BY ADELINE SERGEANT AUTHOR OF ' CASPAR BROOKE'S DAUGHTER,' 'A LIFE SENTENCE,' ' AN EAST LONDON MYSTERY,' ETC, ETC. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON : HURST AND BLACKETT, LIMITED, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1892. All Rights Reserved. CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. CBAPTKR PAGE I. Lady Kesterton's Plans 1 II. Sir Anthony's Choice .... 22 III. The West Wing 38 IV. After the Funeral 55 V. The Last Message 72 VI.

Elfrida 90 VIL Christmas Eve 109 VIII. The Carol-Singers 128 IX. Lady Beltane's Cousin .... 148 X. My Wards 167 XI. The New Mistress 185 XII. That Troublesome Girl .... 205 XIII. Brother and Sister 224 XIV. A Strange Prejudice 242 XV. After Seven Years 260 XVI. Elfrida's Vocation 279 XVII. Lady Betty's Young Man . . .297

Chapter I. Lady Kesterton's Plans

' I THINK I may confidently assert,' said Lady Kesterton, ' that my son's wife, whosoever she is, will be a very happy woman.' ' Yes ?' said the listener. Then, feeling that more than a mere interrogation point was required, the Honourable Eva Lester hastened to add, sweetly, ' I am sure you are right, dear Lady Kesterton.' ' And,' said Sir Anthony Kesterton's mother, with majestic urbanity, ' not only a happy, but a very fortunate woman, too.' 'lam sure of that,' said Miss Lester, in so VOL. I. P. low a tone that the sentence was hardly audible to her hostess's ears. But perhaps Miss Lester did not mean it to be heard, for it expressed more feeling than she would have thought it, consistent with good breeding to show. Fortu nately, Lady Kesterton was a little deaf. Old Lady Kesterton had once been a beauty.

She was now a very angular old dame, stiff as buckram and whalebone could make her, with white hair, nut-cracker nose and chin, dark eyes that still were bright, and the air of one who had all her life been treated with the greatest deference. She had claims to authority and distinction which she never al lowed those around her to forget. She came of a very ancient family, and she had been en riched, early in life, with a fortune of fifty thou sand pounds, left to her by a bachelor uncle, and settled upon herself before her marriage with Sir Giles Kesterton, of Kesterton Park. The possession of this money increased her pre tensions to respect. She was of an economical turn of mind, and managed her own affairs and those of the respectable Sir Giles with exemplary skill. When Sir Giles died, she managed better than ever.

So that now — now when her son, Sir Anthony, was close upon thirty years of age — Lady Kesterton's fortune was reputed to be three times the amount that had been left to her : and, moreover, the disposition of it lay entirely in her own hands. Anthony had the title, of course, and the house and the landed property ; but the estate was not a valuable ■one, and, without the prospects of Lady Kester ton's thousands, Sir Anthony's position would have been anything but brilliant. Two or three wise people shook their heads, -and said it would be pleasanter for Anthony Kesterton if he had not to depend so largely upon his mother. But the plan did not work at all badly. Lady Kesterton was not nig gardly to her son, although she Avas a good woman of business. She liked him to spend money — not profusely, but in proportion to his position in the world ; she liked him to travel, and to have expensive rooms in London, and to invite his friends to his house, like other young men.

She had not re-furnished the B drawing-room only because she was waiting for Anthony's intention of marriage to declare itself. When his bride was chosen, it was understood that she was prepared to spend money to any extent. Indeed, Lady Kesterton was particu larly generous to him ; especially when one remembers that she had rigid evangelical re ligious views, and looked upon many pleasant and harmless things as worldly, wicked, and altogether abominable. But her love for her son counterbalanced a great deal of Calvinistic sentiment. It was a pity that Sir Anthony was not a more satisfactory son to her. He was satisfac tory in externals — nobody could deny that — he was distinguished looking, always well dressed, always deferential in manner. He was respectable, moreover : that is, he had apparently no low tastes or evil proclivities.

But he was not cut out for the role of a country gentleman, and that role had always seemed to Lady Kesterton the highest in the world. She was too old-fashioned to have quite divested herself of the idea that it was below a gentleman's dignity to be studious : that it would beseem him to be anxious about the preserves, to look after the kennels and the stud, rather than to spend a sunshiny September day sometimes in his library over a well-thumbed volume of the classics. Anthony's tastes were not her tastes at all. He was curious in editions, and luxurious in the matter of bookbinding ; he had something of a passion for antiquarian lore. Architecture and painting came in for a share of his attention, and he had begun of late to develop a liking for old china and dainty bits of metal-work.

Lady Kesterton thought these tastes unmanly in the extreme. To add to her sorrows, he had complained so bitterly of her unimaginative, stolid, British cook, that she had been compelled to satisfy him by engaging a French chef (at something extravagant the year) in order to gratify his liking for what she called ' foreign kickshaws.' Sir Anthony laid the blame on his digestion ; but Lady Kesterton was only so much the more contemptuous. For what Kes terton had ever thought about his digestion before ? she queried, grimly. To which Sir Anthony blandly made the very obvious reply, that if they had thought about it more, he might possibly have had to think about it less. But all these shortcomings were to be for given, and all his tastes consulted, if Anthony would but gratify his mother in one direction.

She longed — day by day more intensely — for Anthony to marry. She wanted to see him with a suitable wife at his side, and with children growing up about him. She had fleeting visions of manly, rollicking boys and graceful little girls, to whom she was prepared to act the doting grandmother. With Anthony's wife and family to manage, to close, to preach to and domineer over, she knew that she would have no lonely, sombre days as she now had, when he was in London or on the Continent. Fox she had not the slightest intention of being turned out of the house when Anthony married. She would still be queen of the Park, and An thony would never forget his courteous and conciliatory ways. ' It would hardly be worth his while to quar rel with me,' she said to herself, with a rather cynical smile ; for the good old lady had a fair amount of worldly wisdom and a knowledge of the weaknesses of human nature.

But she was prepared to be kind to Anthony and An thony's wife, if they were properly civil to her. As she had remarked this afternoon to Miss Lester, she considered that the future Lady Kesterton would be a very happy and fortunate woman. Up to a certain point Miss Lester agreed with her. Otherwise, indeed, she would never have come to Kesterton Park, which was not a par ticularly lively place to visit. But everybody knew why old Lady Kesterton every now and then asked a perfectly eligible and good-looking young lady to stay with her. The young lady was to make herself agreeable to Sir Anthony, on the understanding that if he chose to pro pose to her Lady Kesterton would not object. Some young ladies absolutely refused to go to the Park at all on these grounds — ' to be on view,' as they termed it.

Others were not so particular. On the other hand, there was a certain distinction iu being selected by Lady Kesterton as a possible daughter-in-law. It meant that your pedigree was unimpeachable, your family reputation stainless, and your per sonal endowment of grace and beauty up to a fairly high standard. In short, to be invited to Kesterton Park was a sort of certificate of good breeding. And Miss Lester knew it. But it must be confessed that Lady Kester ton's standard requirements had been somewhat lowered before she asked Miss Lester to the house. The fact was that she had already invited nearly all the pretty girls of unim peachable ancestry that she knew : and, as all of them had failed to win Anthony's affections, she had fallen back on a relay of more mature young ladies. The Honourable Eva Lester was six-and-twenty, and looked older than her years.

But she was admirably connected, and, as Lady Kesterton was heard to say, ' remark ably elegant.' She would have been very well satisfied with Eva Lester for a daughter-in-law. As the two ladies sat together in the draw ing-room, Lady Kesterton surveyed Miss Lester critically, and thought that she was looking her best. The young lady's cheeks had flushed a little during the conversation, and a colour was always becoming to Miss Lester, of whose face and expression coldness was a distinguishing characteristic. She was nearly always pale, and her regular features seldom betrayed her feel ings. Her nose was somewhat unusually long and her upper lip likewise. Her abundant pale coloured hair was elaborately dressed, and her gowns were always well-fitting and becoming. Miss Lester's hair and gowns, and her tall, slender figure, constituted her chief claims to distinction ; for the regular features, grey blue eyes, and almost colourless eyebrows and lashes of her face sometimes left an impression of com monplaceness upon the mind of an observer.

Lady Kesterton always maintained, however, that Eva would grow handsomer with advancing years. She wore on this occasion a very pale blue dress, with silver ornaments, and sat upright in one of the high-backed chairs in a way which Lady Kesterton approved. There was never an approach to lounging or to slovenliness in Eva's appearance or attitudes. She was always erect, dignified, unapproachable. One could not imagine that a speck of dirt would ever adhere to that smooth clear skin, or that those elaborate braids of hair could be disarranged. Lady Kester ton looked and approved. She also could be severe, erect, aud dignified ; her snow-white curls, her stiff black satins, magnificent velvets, and antique laces were as perfect in their de tails as Eva's modest gowns ; there was some thing a little fierce even in the old lady's gold rimmed eye-glasses and judicial frown, which was apt to frighten timid persons.

Yet, fierce and rigid as she appeared, there was a far warm er heart and finer nature beneath that some what repelling exterior than could be found in all the cultivated personality of the Honourable Eva Lester. ' Do you know where Anthony has gone, my dear ?' Lady Kesterton enquired, after a pause, during which Miss Lester stitched diligently at a strip of white muslin embroidery. ' He spoke of the fir-plantation at the back of the West Lodge,' said Eva. ' I think he must have been going in that direction.' ' I should rather like a little walk,' said the old lady, reflectively. ' If you have no objection, my dear, we will take a turn in the park. I have not been out to-day.' ' I shall be delighted,' Miss Lester replied. Then, glancing out of one of the windows, she said, ' There is Philip on the terrace ; shall he come too V ' What a nuisance boys are !' exclaimed Lady Kesterton, rather crossly. ' Always in the way.

I cannot think why Anthony likes to have him, here. However,' — after a moment's hesitation — ' he may be useful to us. Call him, and tell him that he can carry my basket for me. I am going to take some wine and jelly to the lodge-keeper's wife.' She took up her ebony, gold-mounted staff, which she used more as a symbol of authority than a means of support, while Miss Lester opened the window and beckoned to the boy up on the terrace. A momentary smile flickered on her lips as she did so. Lady Kesterton's mind was an open volume to her ; and in the order con veyed to Philip Winyates she read the convic tion of the old lady that a party of four was SIR ANTHuNY. sometimes more convenient than one of three, and that, if Sir Anthony happened to be met on the road, he could escort Miss Lester, while the boy Philip afforded his companionship to Lady Kesterton.

Eva's eyes rested on a pleasant scene as she stood at the drawing-room window. Before the house ran the terrace, with its stately stone balustrades, garlanded with Virginia creeper, and its tall vases overflowing with geranium and calceolaria. Beyond the terrace lay the velvety sward of the wellmown lawn, its green ness broken here and there by masses of brilliant colour ; and, further still, the smooth sweep of undulating ground, by which the lawn glided almost imperceptibly into rougher park-ground, shadowed by the branches of venerable oaks and elms An opening in the foliage, caused partly by a certain dip in the ground, had been taken advantage of and artificially enlarged, in order to afford a glimpse of the not far distant sea, and the sparkle of the bfue water lent an ad ditional charm to the soft luxuriance of vegeta tion that surrounded the old grey house.

Without this, the vicinity of the rather overgrown park might have made the view, to many eyes, seem dull ; but the magic of distance, of con stant change, of a vivid freshness, was added to it by that never to-be-forgotten ' purple patch ' of ocean against the horizon line. Miss Lester looked and sighed; she would very much have liked to be mistress of such a fair demesne, but she was not sanguine as to her chances of obtaining that enviable post. Sir Anthony was very courteous and attentive : she felt sure that she pleased his judgment and his taste ; but she had seen no approach to a warmer emotion in his calm and critical eyes. She liked Sir Anthony very much : indeed, in her tepid way, she was really in love with him. But she cared far more for the prospect of being mistress of Kesterton Park than of becoming Anthony Kesterton's wife.

She had some difficulty in attracting Philip Winyates' attention, for the boy was looking down, and she had an objection to raising her voice. He was close to the window before she spoke. 'Philip, Lady Kesterton would like you to walk across the park with us. She wants you to carry her basket.' Miss Lester spoke in curiously cool tones. She was not very fond of this boy, young Philip Winyates, although Sir Anthony chose to make a sort of pet of him. He was the son of a very distant connection of the Kestertons, an orphan and penniless. Sir Anthony had sent him to school, and usually invited him to the Park during his holidays. Philip started a little as he heard Miss Lester's voice ; then lifted his cap, and replied, with ready good-humour, ' I shall be delighted. Miss Lester. Shall I wait for Lady Kesterton at the garden-door f ' Just keep within sight, on the terrace, please.

We shall see you there when we want you.' And Miss Lester closed the window. ' She always speaks to me as if I were her servant,' said the boy to himself, his sensitive face flushing as he turned away. He was fourteen, tall for his age and rather delicate-looking, bright and pleasant of countenance without being exactly handsome, but with a fine, well-developed brow and beautiful brown eyes, giving promise of unusually great intelligence. It was partly on account of this intelligence that he was so great a favourite with Sir Anthony, who valued intellectual power (in his own sex) more than any other quality. But, like Sir Anthony himself, he was too fond of books to find favour in Lady Kesterton's eyes ; and Miss Lester treated him with a cold hauteur which gave little promise of friendly relations between them should she ever become mistress of the Park.

The trio started forth together, however, with all the appearance of friendship and amiability. Lady Kesterton was in a good humour, and encouraged the boy to talk. Although she was not fond of him, she liked his fresh, naive chat ter better than Miss Lester's rather stilted re marks on a narrow range of subjects. They reached at last a portion of the enclosure through which there was a right-of-way from the village of Kesterton to the sea : it was an old privilege of the villagers at which Sir Anthony often grumbled, but which Lady Kesterton stoutly maintained. The way to the West Lodge lay along the trodden footway ; and it was in con sequence of this ' right of way ' that a little incident occurred which none of the persons concerned were very likely to forget. A withered crone, almost double with age, carrying on her back a bundle of seaweed, came down the path and dropped a curtsey to my lady on meeting her.

Lady Kesterton put up her gold-rimmed eye-glass, and frowned majestically at the salutation, then suddenly stopped short. ' You are a stranger here,' she said. ' Where do you come from V ' I comes from Noffolk way, my lady, to live wi' my darter ; her that be Derrick's wife, my lady. My name, it's Nanny Moggs.' ' Derrick — the lodge keeper V 'Ay, my lady. He be main kind to me, him an' my darter too.' ' Why do you carry that bundle then V said Lady Kesterton, sharply. ' It's too heavy for you.' ' Let me carry it for her,' cried Philip, hastily and heartily. ' It is much too heavy — and I can carry it with the basket, too.' ' There's no occasion, young master,' said the old woman. ' it ain't half so heavy as many a load I've carried during the last few years. You see, my lady, my darter didn't know how useful the seaweed could be both in the garden and for fuel, and for a bed now and then, when dried, so I brought her up a bundle or two to try it.

No, sir, it ain't one bit too heavy ; and I wouldn't like you to demean yerself a-touch ing of it. But I thank you kindly all the same.' ' I will call and see you some day,' said Lady Kesterton, in a tone that was meant to be kindly, but sounded rather threatening. ' Come along, Philip.' For Philip had hung behind to slip a coin into the old woman's hand. She said something in reply, which caused him to laugh as he ran forward. ' She offered to tell my fortune,' he said, still laughing. ' She says she can do it by looking at my hand.' c VOL. I. Lady Kesterton stood still in her displeasure. ' Fortune-telling ! Palmistry !' she said. ' Does she not know that such abominable and illegal practices are forbidden on our land V Philip was somewhat startled by her anger, but Miss Lester interposed with a trifle more eagerness than usual. ' Oh, dear Lady Kesterton, do let us see what she will say.

I have often longed to have my fortune told. Here,' — plucking off her glove, and turning hastily to the old woman, who had been plodding along behind them — ' look at my hand, and tell me what my fortune is.' ' I do not approve of such heathenish pro ceedings,' said Lady Kesterton. But she did not like to put too much restraint on the liberty of a guest, and therefore stood in the mossy path frowning impatiently, but not actually declining to listen to what the old crone said. Eva, with a half laugh, handed a shilling to the fortune-teller, and extended her slender palm. ' There's a marriage before ye,' said Nanny Moggs. ' Eh, and a fine marriage too ; but not so soon as ye're maybe thinking, my lady. Not for a few years yet. And ye'll marry a widower with children of his own, and have fine lands and houses, and be called a lucky woman.

But luck changes sometimes, ye must remember ; and there's a dividing of the ways when ye don't think of it.' ' What rubbish is she talking V said Lady Kesterton, angrily; while Eva, surprised and disappointed, drew back her hand. ' It is just the ordinary conventional pro phecy,' she said, trying to disguise her real feeling. ' I thought that in the country — with au unsophisticated " country wife," one might hear something a little more out of the way.' ' I did not know that you were superstitious,' said Lady Kesterton, coldly. ' Tell me my fortune too,' said Philip, holding out his hand. ' Yours, my young master 1 Eh, your for tune's hardly written yet,' said the old woman, chuckling to herself. ' The babe's yet unborn that will be the girl you love, my honey. But there's good luck in store for you yet ; for you're a northern lad, and you will be master of land c2 which was once water and waste aud shall be water once again.' She said the last words in au odd recitative or chant, which half-awed the boy, yet made him feel inclined to laugh; but when he glanced at Lady Kesterton the mirth went out of his face at once.

The old lady had grown livid, apparently with rage, and her eyes flashed lightning of wrath, first at the boy and then at Nanny Moggs. ' Take your hand away, Philip,' she said. ' And you — how dare you mix yourself up with our family affairs, woman ? If I hear of you telling fortunes again, or quoting our traditions, I shall have you prosecuted at once — do you hear ? So take care.' She turned and walked onward very fast to ward the lodge gate, while Miss Lester and Philip followed at a somewhat less rapid pace. At the gate Lady Kesterton, still white with anger, faced them again. ■ Don't let me see you in the park any more,' she said to the old crone. ' Go round by the cliff if you want seaweed. Never set foot within these gates again.' Then Philip, being young and unadvised, took upon himself to intercede. ' Oh, Lady Kesterton,' he said, ' you don't mean that surely !

It is such a long way by the cliff.' ' What business have you to interfere V cried she, turning upon him with flaming eyes. 'What right have you to say a word as to how I deal with my son's tenants ? This comes of listening to servants' talk, and trying to curry favour with my son. But you do it in my presence at your peril.' Aud, lifting her ebony cane with a still vigor ous right hand, she brought it down sharply on the shoulders of the astonished lad, who scarcely knew what he had done amiss.

Chapter II. Sir Anthony's Choice

In another moment or two, Lady Kesterton and Miss Lester were left alone. Old Mrs. Moggs hobbled away as fast as her legs would carry her ; and Philip rushed off through the park in a frenzy of wounded feeling and resentment. Miss Lester would very much have liked to ask the meaning of her hostess's sudden anger, but she was far too discreet to do any such thing. She simply picked up the basket of good things for the lodge-keeper's wife which Philip had hastily thrown down, and walked by the side of Lady Kesterton, who, with quickened breath and hurrying feet, made the best of her way to the lodge, where no doubt she meant to empty (he vials of her wrath upon the heads of Mr. and Mrs. Derrick. Eva did not enter the picturesque little dwell ing, which, as she knew, was of somewhat cramped dimensions.

Lady Kesterton's big figure, her satin skirts, and silk-lined cloak al ways took up so much room in the cottages that it was better for any other visitor to re main away. On this occasion Lady Kesterton did not stay long. There was a look of relief and satisfaction in her face when she came out again, as if Mrs. Derrick's apologies and pro testations had put her into a better temper. She talked quite pleasantly to Eva for a little time ; and never suspected that Eva was seri ously considering her as quite a new kind of drawback to a marriage with Sir Anthony. Just to think of such a temper ! For an old lady too ! — and to strike a boy with a stick ! Miss Lester was shocked, and, to tell the truth, a little frightened. ' We'll go round by the plantation,' said Lady Kesterton, quite cheerfully. ' Mary Derrick says that Anthony is there.

It wants thinning a bit. This way, my dear.' ' This way ' was through a wicket-gate on the other side of the road, just opposite the lodge. Beyond it lay a rising ground, thickly dotted with fir-trees crowded together still more visibly as they neared the top of the hill. Lady Kesterton stepped out briskly on the mossy ground, and Miss Lester kept close behind her or at her side, being wishful to show that she could mount a hill as well as anybody. ' Here we are at the top !' said the old lady at last, in an amiable voice. ' It is a charming view, is it not ? We have the sea before us, and the ground slopes away from this point towards ' She did not finish her sentence. She was looking complacently down the hillside when her eye lighted upon a couple — a man and wo man — who were standing beside a little heath ery knoll, overshadowed by a great elm-tree, possibly in the belief that they could not be observed.

The man wore brown shootina clothes, the girl, a gay pink cotton-frock and ■white sun-bonnet ; her face was upturned to his, and his arm was round her waist. He was about to kiss her — yes, he bent his head, there and then, and kissed her on the mouth. He was a tall, good-looking man, and she was as beautiful as the day, so that, from a purely human point of view, they were a capital match for each other ; but then Lady Kesterton did not regard them simply from a human point of view. For the man was her son, Sir Anthony ; and the woman — well, Lady Kesterton did not know her name, but it was plain that she was a country wench of some sort — a milkmaid, or perhaps a keeper's daughter. She seized Miss Lester's arm almost violently, aud pushed her back. 'Don't look! Don't look!' she cried. 'We will go back.' Then, repenting of her impetu osity, she added, as they retraced their steps, * Some foolish flirtation going on.

Not at all a proper thing ' and she looked at Eva appre hensively. Perhaps, after all, Miss Lester had not seen? And in that case Lady Kesterton was not going to tell her. But Eva had seen, and knew — perhaps better than Lady Kesterton could have told her — how much was signified by the embrace which they had witnessed. For Sir Anthony was by nature a cold man and a fastidious one, and not given to kissing for kissing's sake. Miss Lester felt herself slightly insulted by the preference he had manifested, and planned a return home upon the morrow. Sir Anthony did not appear at afternoon tea. He presented himself as usual five minutes before dinner time ; cool, immaculate, courteous and refined as ever. Miss Lester caught herself looking at him with curiosity ; she wondered how he could manage to be so unconcerned.

And Lady Kesterton was funereal in her solemnity. Eva retired early to her room, and Sir An thony went to the library. But he was not to remain undisturbed. To his great surprise, his mother walked majestically into the room, and seated herself on a chair near his own, with the air of one who wished for a conversation. ' This is an unexpected honour,' said Sir Anthony. ' Will you not take a more comfort able chair, mother?' 'Thank you, Anthony, I am comfortable where 1 am; May 1 trouble you to lay down your book for a moment or two ? I have some thing to say.' Her son slightly elevated his eyebrows, and rather reluctantly obeyed, leaving a paper-cut ter inside the book at the point which he had reached. Lady Kesterton glanced at the title and shuddered. It was a volume of poems just issued, remarkable, as she had read in an evangelical review, for its beauty of diction and corruptness of sentiment.