The Red Court Farm. A novel

Chapter I

'ACE I. Introduction ... ... ... ... ... i II. Robert Hunter and his Wife ... ... n III. Clara Lake's Dream ... ... ... ... 25 IV. The Accident ... ... ... ... ... 3S V. Red, or Green? ... ... ... ... ... 72 VI. Justice Thornycroft's Visit ... ... ... 85 VII. Going Fishing ... ... .. ... ... 99 VIII. Taking a Chill ... ... ... ... 112 IX. Colour-blindness ... ... ... ... ... 130 X. Mary Jupp's Explosion... ... ... ... 14S XI. The Dream worked out ... ... ... ... 162 PART THE SECOND. I. COASTDOWN... ... ... ... ... ... 177 II. What was the Fear? ... ... ... ... 194 III. Superstitious Tales ... ... ... ... 212 IV. The New Mistress ... ... ... ... CONTENTS. VI PART THE THIRD. CHAPTER TACE I. At School in London ... ... ... ... 243 II. Captain Copp ... ... ... ... 253 III. Isaac Thorn ycroft's Stratagem .. ... ... 266 IV.

In Love ... ... ... ... ... 277 V. Wilful Disobedience ... ... ... ... 289 VI. The Half-moon Beach ... ... •■• 305 VII. Mv Lady at the Red Court ... ... ... 322 VIII. A Last Interview ... ... ... ... 336 IX. The Crowd in the Early Morning ... ... 351 X. Shot down from the Heights ... ... 369 XI. The CorvONER's Inquest ... ... ... ... 383 XII. Robert Hunter's Funeral ... ... ... 398 XIII. Curious Rumours ... ... ... ... 409 XIV. Robert Hunter's Ghost ... ... ... 420 XV. In the Church Porch ... ... ... ... 431 XVI. A Last Drive to Juttoint ... ... ... 448 XVII. Ladies disputing ... ... .. ... 458 XVIII. Disclosing it to the Justice ... ... PART THE FIRST.

CHAPTER I.

introduction. On a certain portion of the English coast, lying sufficiently near to that of France to have given rise to whispers of smuggling in the days gone by, a bleak plateau of land rises high above the sea. It is a venturesome feat to walk close to its edge and gaze down the perpendicular cliffs to the beach below — enough to make a strong man dizzy. A small beach just there, called the Halfmoon from its crescent form, almost closed in by the projecting rocks, is accessible only from the sea at high water ; at low water a very narrow path leads from it round the projection of rock to the left. It was a peculiar place altogether, this spot ; and it is necessary to bring it clearly before those who read the story connected with it. The Half moon itself was never under water, for the tide did not reach it, but the narrow path winding round to the left was so ; and that rendered the crescent beach unapproachable from the land at intervals in the four-and-twenty hours.

A few rude steps shelved from this Halfmoon to a small strip of lower beach, which became lost in the sea. The projecting rocks on either side, forming as may be said the points of the Halfmoon, The Red Court Farm. I jutted out into the sea. Those to your right, as you faced the sea, cut off all communication with the shore beyond, for a" depth of water touched them at all times. Those on the left extended less far out, and the narrow path winding round them was dry when the tide was down. It thus arose that the Half moon could be gained by this narrow path only, or by a boat from the sea. For all practical purposes it might just as well have been altogether inaccessible. Not once in a month — nay, it might be said, not once in twelve months — would any human being stray there. Not only was no end to be answered in going to it, but the place was said to be haunted ; and the simple villagers around would sooner have spent the night watching in the church vaults than have ventured to the Halfmoon beach between sundown and cockcrow.

The most superstitious men on the earth's surface are sailors ; and fishermen partake of the peculiarity. Turning round on the plateau now- — it is called the plateau just as the beach below is called the Halfmoon — with our back lo the sea, we look inland. It is only the plateau that is elevated ; the coast itself and the lands around lie rather low. On the left hand a long line of dreary coast stretches onwards, not a habitation to be seen ; on the right lies the village of Coastdown. Fishermen's huts are built on the side and summit of the cliffs, not there so perpendicular as near the Halfmoon ; small cottages dot the low-lying grass lands ; and an opening in the one poor street of the village, shows the actual beach and the few fishing craft moored to it. Still standing on the plateau, the eye falls on a landscape of cultivated plains, extending for miles and miles.

The only house near the plateau is exactly opposite to it — a large red brick house built in a hollow. It may be a quarter-of-a-mile distant from the edge of the plateau where we are standing, but the gradual descent of the grassy land causes it to seem much nearer. This is the Red Court Farm. It is a low, long house, and has been built on the site of an ancient castle, signs of

Introduction

. 3 whose ruins may still be seen. The plateau itself is only as wide as a good stone's-throw ; and on its lower part, not far from where it joins the lands of the Red Court Farm, and the descent is somewhat abrupt, rises a dilapidated circular stone wall, breast high, with a narrow opening where the door used to be. This is called the Round Tower, and is supposed to have been the watch-tower of the castle in the days gone by. The Red Court stands alone, the last house of the colony, some distance removed from any other ; its gates and entrance door are at the end of the house, facing the village. The nearest building to it is the small old church of St. Peter's, standing in the midst of a large graveyard. Its square belfry is grey with age, and green with patches of moss and lichen. The high-road, advancing from the open country behind — it is hard to say whence, or from what bustling cities — comes wind ing past the gates of the Red Court Farm with a sharp turn, and two roads branch off before it.

The one to the right, bearing round to the village, passes through it, and goes career ing on to Jutpoint, a small town, some four or five miles distant, the sea lying on the right all the way. The other road leads past the church to the heath, or common, on which are situated the handful of houses, all moderate in size, inhabited by the gentry of the place. The only large house was the Red Court Farm. Thorn)' croft was the name of the family living in it. Mr. Thornycroft owned the Red Court and some of the land around it ; and he rented more, which he farmed. Many years ago a gentleman had come down to look at the place, which was for sale, and bought it. He was named Thornycroft. His two sons, Richard and Harry, were fine powerful young men, but their wild habits caused some scandal in the quiet place.

Previous to the purchase, the house had been known as the Red Court, it was supposed from the deep tone of the bricks of which it was built. Mr. Thornycroft at once added on the word "Farm," and it was called henceforth the Red Court Farm. A right good farmer he proved himself, the extent of the land, comprising what he rented, being about three hundred acres. Within a very few years of the purchase Mr. Thornycroft died, and Richard, the eldest son, came into possession. In the following year Richard also died, from the effects of an accident in France. Both the brothers were fond of taking continental trips, Richard especially so. Thus the place came into the hands oi Harry Thornycroft, and he entered upon it with his wife and little son. His osten sible residence since his marriage had been in London ; but he had stayed a great deal at the Red Court Farm.

A second son was born soon after, and some five or six years later another boy and a girl. Mrs. Thornycroft, a gentle, ladylike, delicate woman, did not enjoy robust health. Something in her face and manner seemed to give one the idea that she had some inward care — that skeleton in the closet from which so few of us are quite free. Whether it was so or not in her case none could tell. That Harry Thornycroft made her a fond and indulgent husband — that they were much attached to each other — there could be no doubt. Her careworn look may have arisen solely from her state of health ; perhaps from the secret conviction that she should be called away early from her children. Years before she died Coastdown said she was fading away. Fade away she did, without any very tangible disorder, and was laid to rest in a quiet corner of the churchyard.

To those who know where to look for it, her large white tombstone may be distinguished from our standing-place on the plateau. That grief had been long over, and the Red Court itself again. Mr. Thornycroft was a county magistrate, and rode in to Jutpoint, when the whim took him, and sat upon the bench there. There was no bench at Coastdown ; but petty offenders were brought before him at the Red Court — partly because he was the only gentleman in the commission of the peace living at Coastdown, partly from the fact that he was more wealthy and influential than all the other residents put together. A lenient justice he, never convicting when he could spare. Many a fine, that he himself had imposed from the bench at

INTRODUCTION.

. 5 Jutpoint, was mysteriously conveyed out of his pocket into the poor offender's to save the man from prison. To say that Justice Thornycroft — the title generally accorded him — was beloved in Coastdown, would be a weak word to define the feeling of the poorer people around. He had a liberal hand, an open heart ; and no person carried a tale of trouble to him in vain. His great fault, said the small gentry around, was indiscreet liberality. Never was there a pleasanter companion than he, and his brother-magistrates chuckled when they received an invitation to the Red Court dinners, for they loved the hearty welcome and the jolly cheer always to be found there. The two elder sons, Richard and Isaac, were fine towering men like himself — but rather wild, just as Harry Thornycroft and his elder brother had been in their young days.

Richard was dark, stern, and resolute ; but he would unbend to courtesy over his wine when guests were at table. The few who remembered the dead elder brother said Richard resembled him much more than he did his father, as is sometimes seen to be the case. Certainly in countenance Richard was not like the justice. Isaac was so. It was his father's fair, handsome face over again, with its fine features, its dark-blue eyes, and its profusion of light curling hair. There was altogether a great charm in Isaac Thornycroft. His manners were winning ; his form, strong and tall as Richard's, had a nameless grace and ease that Richard's wanted ; and his heart and hand were open as his father's. The young one, Cyril, was less robust than his brothers — quiet, gentle, very much like his dead mother. Cyril's taste was all for books ; to the out-of-door life favoured by Richard and Isaac he had never been given.

Richard called him a " milksop ; " Isaac would pet him almost as he might have petted a girl ; all indulged him. To Richard and Isaac no profession was given ; as yet none was talked of for Cyril. The two elder occupied themselves on the land — ostensibly at any rate ; but half their time was spent in shooting, fishing, hunting, according to the season. " A thriving farm the Red Court must be," quoth the neighbours given to gossip, "for the old man to keep all his sons to it." But it was well known that Mr. Thornycroft must possess considerable private property ; the style of living would alone prove that. A broad gravel drive led straight from the gates to the entrance-door. There were other gates and entrances at the back of the house, serving for farm vehicles, for servants, and for people on business generally.

The kitchens and other domestic apartments were at the back, looking on to the various farm-buildings — barns, stables, and the like. The further end of the stables joined some of the old still standing ruins — in fact, it may be said that part of the ruins were so used. The young men kept their dog-cart there — a large, stylish affair, capable of containing no end of dogs — and the fleet, strong, fine horse that usually drew it. The front of the house, as already narrated, faced the plateau and the sea — a wide handsome frontage enclosing handsome rooms. And it is quite time we entered them. Through the portico, level with the ground, and up the two steps into the long but somewhat narrow hall — very narrow at the back and shut in by a door — doors opening on either side. The first room on the right was the dining-room — a spacious apartment, warm and comfortable, pictures on its dark wainscoted walls, a Turkey carpet yielding to the tread.

The windows were at the end, looking towards the village and the church belfry; and the fireplace was opposite the door. Passing up the hall, the next room was called familiarly the justice-room. Here Mr. Thornycroft sat when offenders were brought before him, and here he saw his farming people and kept his papers. Beyond this was the staircase, and a door, still on the right, opening to the passage leading to the domestic apartments. On the left of the entrance-hall was the large drawing-room, its windows facing the front ; beyond it a smaller and plainer one, always in use. A snug little parlour adjoined this, in which Miss Thornycroft took her lessons. All these three rooms faced the front. The door at the back of the hall

INTRODUCTION.

. 7 I opened on to a passage and to some rooms used only by the gentlemen. The passage ran through to a side entrance, which was just opposite that portion of the stables built on the old ruins. This was convenient, since the young men, who had a habit of coming in at all hours of the day and night, could put up their horse and dog-cart and let themselves in with their latch-keys without sound or movement penetrating to the family and household. It is with the study, or Miss Thornycroft's parlour, that we have to do to-day. Its window is thrown open to the hot July sun — to the green lawn and the shrubs — to the bare plateau beyond, where a coastguardsman was pacing on duty — to the sparkling sea in the distance. . The walls of the room were white and gold, pretty drawings and landscapes in water-colours adorning them.

Some of them had been done by Miss Thornycroft, some by her late mother. The carpet and chairs were green ; the white curtains waved in the gentle breeze. Altogether it was a room pleasant to look upon. Seated on the music-stool, her face turned towards the door, was a little brown, middle-aged woman, unmistakably French, without evidence of her tongue, which was going fluently ; a look of reproach on her naturally placid face. It was Made moiselle Derode, the governess, resident now some five years at the Red Court. A simple-minded woman, accomplished though she was— good as gold, and of extremely timid nature. Richard Thornycroft had related to her some of the ghostly tales connected with the Red Court — or rather with its immediate environs — and she would not have stirred out alone at night for the world.

Her chamber window when she first came faced the plateau ; after hearing the stories she begged and prayed to be removed into another. Mrs. Thornycroft, then living, complied with a sad smile, and reproved Richard in her gentle manner for saying anything. If whispers were to be believed, these same ghostly rumours were even then helping to kill Mrs. Thornycroft. Mademoiselle Derode was en colere this morning with her pupil. French, German, English ; harp and piano ; drawing and painting; she was thoroughly versed in all, and had as thoroughly taught. For her age, Miss Thornycroft was an exceedingly well-educated girl, but given at times to be rebellious. In fact she was growing altogether beyond the control of the little governess. The young lady stood by the table facing the window — a tall, very handsome girl of nearly sixteen, with her brother Isaac's fair skin and bright features, and a suspicious look of Richard's resolute lip.

She wore a blue muslin dress, blue ribbons in her fair hair. Her pretty hands were tossing, not in play but in petulance, a large white rose, broken short off from its stalk ; her well-shaped head was thrown back ; her light, clear blue eyes looked out defiantly. " As if there could be reason in it ! " spoke mademoiselle in her quaint but well-pronounced English. " You did but the little half of your lessons yesterday ; the other day before it you went out without saying to me one word ; and now this morning you want to go out again. You will not do any one little thing ! I say, Miss Mary Anne, that it has not reason in it." " I promised Captain Copp I would go, mademoiselle. Mrs. Copp will be waiting for me." " And I promise you that you cannot go," returned the governess, decisively. " My faith !

You go, you go, you go ; yesterday, to-day, to-morrow ; and where are your studies ? I might as well take my departure. I am of no longer any use." " I wish I was that douanier," spoke the young lady with an angry gesture, looking out at the preventive man pacing the edge of the plateau. " I wish you were — for one day ; you would soon wish your self back again into yourself, Miss Thornycroft. Will you sit down and begin your studies ? " " No ; it is too hot to work. German would give me a headache to-day, mademoiselle."

INTRODUCTION.

. 9 " I wish your papa, Monsieur the Justice, was at home. I would appeal to him." " So would I. I wish he was ! Papa would not make me do lessons against my will." " Will you come into the other room to your harp, then ? " " No," reiterated Miss Thornycroft. " When I don't want to work, I can't work ; and, excuse me, mademoiselle, but I won't work. There ! I am invited out to-day, and I want to go. Mrs. Sam Copp is going to Jutpoint, and she is to take me." Mademoiselle got up in despair. Day by day, she saw it well, her authority was growing less. " Miss Mary Anne, hear me ! / will not have you go. I defend you to quit the house." Mary Anne laughed disobediently. " I shall go if Captain Copp comes for me, mademoiselle." Mademoiselle wrung her hands. " I will go and find Mr. Richard. He is master here when the Justice is not.

I will lay the case before him and say, ' What am I to do with this rebellious child ? ' " She left the room on her search. Miss Thornycroft went to the window and leaned out, wishing herself once more the preventive man, or any one else who had not a governess. At that moment she saw her brother Isaac run on to the plateau from the direction of the village, stand a minute talking with the coastguardsman, and then come vaulting down towards the house. It has not been mentioned that a line of light railings enclosed the plateau below the Round Tower — a boundary line between it and the Red Court grounds. Isaac Thornycroft leaped the railings, and saw his sister. She called to him in a voice of earnestness. He came round to the front entrance and entered the room. Handsome in his careless grace, and bright as the summer morning.

He wore light cool clothes, his linen was curiously white and fine ; looking altogether, as he always did, a finished gentleman. Richard would be in coarse things, unbrushed and shabby, for a week together; the brothers had quite opposite instincts. ' Mary Anne went up to him with a pleading voice and tears in her eyes, all her wilfulness gone. " Oh, Isaac ! — dear Isaac ! — won't you help me ? You are always kind." " My little dove ! what is it ? " She told her tale. Her engagement with Captain and Mrs. Copp, and mademoiselle's cruel hard-heartedness. Isaac laughed outright. " Hard-heartedness, indeed ! Worse than that of Barbara Allen. My pretty one ! " he whispered, stooping until his lips touched her cheek. "Well, Isaac?" " Put on your things, and I'll smuggle you off. Quick." She needed no second warning.

In two minutes, down she was again, a white mantle on her shoulders, a straw hat with its blue ribbons shading her fair, bright face. Isaac took her out by the front-door, just before Mademoiselle Derode returned again. " I have sent for your brother, Mr. Richard, Miss Mary Anne, and Elle n 'est pas ici?" Mademoiselle called, and looked in this room and in that. She had not ended her search when Richard strode in, his face dark and stern as usual, his shoes and gaiters dusty, his velveteen waistcoat buttoned close up, his coat soiled. He had been helping to fill in a pond. " Lessons ! of course she must learn her lessons. Where is she, mademoiselle ? " Mademoiselle was arriving at the conclusion that she was nowhere. One of the housemaids had seen her dress herself, and go downstairs. Of course she had gone out.

Gone in disobedience ! Richard went back to his pond, and made moiselle sat down and folded her arms. In the course of an hour Mr. Thornycroft came in. A handsome man still, upright and grand looking; his features fair and pleasant, his smile somewhat free, no grey as yet mingling with his still luxuriant hair. Mademoiselle carried her grievance to him; as she had been obliged to do more than once of late. " It is not to complain of her, monsieur ; I'm sure you know that I love her too well ; but in her own interest I must speak. She is at the age when she most needs guidance and control ; and she is showing that she has a will of her own, and will exercise it ! It was always there." " I suppose it was," said the Justice. " I have a will myself. Richard and Isaac have wills." " If I can no longer be obeyed, monsieur, better that I should go back to my little home in France, and make place for a governess who will have control."

" No, no," said Mr. Thornycroft, very quickly. " That would not do. I will have no fresh governess here." " But what is to be done, monsieur ? " " I'll think of it," said Mr. Thornycroft

Chapter II. Robert Hunter And His Wife

In the midst of the pretty and exclusive village of Katterley, an inland spot, from twenty to thirty miles away from the sea, there stands a charming residence, half-cottage, half-villa, called Katterley Lodge. Its rooms are warm in winter, cool in summer ; it rises in the midst of a lovely garden, in view of magnificent scenery ; and the sweetest roses and honeysuckles entwine themselves about its walls. The August evening sun — July had just passed — shone full on its entrance-gate ; on a lady, young and fair, who was leaning over it. She may have been about three-and-twenty, and she was dressed in white, with ribbons in her hair. There was a remarkable refinement and delicacy in her face, her manners, her appearance altogether ; and her soft dark eyes wore a sad expression. Did you, who may be reading this, ever observe that peculiar, sad look — not a passing sadness, or one caused by present care — but a fixed mournful look, implanted in the eyes by nature ?

It is not a common expression, or one often seen ; but rely upon it, when you do see it, it is an index that the spirit is, or will be, sad within. Sauntering up the road towards the gate, encumbered with a basket, a rod, and other apparatus indicative of the fishing art, strode a gentleman, carelessly switching the hedge as he passed it. No sad expression was there about him ; rather the con trary. He was of middle height, very slender, with a frank, pleasant face given to laughing, and dark auburn hair ; his manner was light, his speech free and careless. Her face sparkled at his approach, and she opened the gate long before he had gained it. " What sport, Robert ? What have you brought ? " " Brought you myself," was the gentleman's reply, as he passed in at the gate she held wide. " Thank you.

How much is the toll ? " As he bent to take the "toll," a kiss, she glanced shyly at his face and blushed — blushed brightly ; although she was his wife of nearly three years' standing. In a retiring, impassioned earnest nature such as hers, it takes a great deal ere love can die out — a convulsion sometimes. With her it had not begun to die. His name was Robert Frederick Hunter. His wife liked the second name best, and generally called him by it, but as other people adhered to the first it may be best to do so here. His career already, young though he was, had seen changes. Reared in middle-class life in the North of England, practically, rather than fashionably, educated, he had served his articles to a civil engineer. Ere they were quite out, and he free, a small fortune came to him through a relative.

Mr. Robert Hunter thought he could not do better than take to a red coat, and he purchased a lieutenancy in a home corps. Almost simul taneously with this, he met with Clara Lake, of Katterley. He fell in love with her ; at least he fancied so. She most unmistakably did so with him, and the preliminaries for a marriage were arranged. Her father made it a proviso that he should leave the army ; and that after the marriage they should live with him at Katterley Lodge. Robert Hunter assented, sold out, and the marriage took place. When his wife's father died shortly after, it was found that Katterley Lodge, and money amounting to four or five hundred a-year were left to her, with a condition that Mr. Hunter should take the name of Lake. So in Katterley he was chiefly called Lake, or Hunter-Lake ; elsewhere he was as before, Hunter.

Just for the present we will call him Lake, but it must not be forgotten that Hunter was his real name. Mr. Lake opened his basket as he went in and displayed its contents — some fine trout. Two were ordered to be dressed, and served with the tea. On the days of these fishing expedi tions, Mrs. Lake dined early. Occasionally she went with him. Not very often. The sport wearied her, and but for him at whose side she sat, it would never have been endurable. " Sport, indeed ! " she used laughingly to say : " I would as soon be at a funeral." " What have you been doing all the afternoon, Clara ? " " Oh, reading and working ; and wishing it was time for you to come home." " Silly girl ! " laughed he, as he played with her curls. " Suppose I should be brought home to you some day fished out of the»stream ; drowned and dead."

" Don't joke, please," was her reply, given in a low voice. " It had like to have been no joke this afternoon. I all but overbalanced myself. But for a friendly tree I should have been in ; perhaps done for." " Oh, Robert ! " she exclaimed, the bright rose fading out of her cheeks. " And there's a fierce bit of current there, and the river is at its deepest, and the mill-wheel a stone's-throw lower down," he continued, as if he enjoyed the sport of teasing her ; which perhaps he did. " I was an idiot never to learn to swim." "Did you slip ? " she asked, in a half-whisper. " No ; I was leaning too forward and lost my balance. Oh, Clary ! you are a little coward at best. Why, your heart is beating fast ; a great deal faster than mine did, I can tell you. And where have your roses gone to ? " She looked up with a faint smile.