Caught in a Trap Part 4

"Of course, you don't gain anything by it?"

"If my scheme succeeds, you shall share the profits."

"You will take the lion's share, I have no doubt! and if you fail?"

"I alone will bear the loss."

"How generous you are!"

"Well, do you consent to join forces? is it settled? Am I to tell Mrs Hartshorne--how pleased she'll be to hear it!--the character of the governess she has got for her daughter, or are we to form an operative alliance!"

"Markworth, you are a villain!"

"Granted," he said, calmly. "Do you agree?"

"I suppose I must," she replied. "You are not to interfere with me? and I--"

"Will a.s.sist me to the best of your ability. That's a bargain; I thought you would be reasonable, Clara."

"But what do you want me to do?" she asked, after a slight pause, fixing her eyes searchingly on his face.

"It is nothing criminal. You will not have to commit yourself in any way. I don't want you to do anything, in fact; I only want you to keep in the background, and not spoil sport. Will you do it?"

"Agreed," she answered. "And your grand scheme is--"

"Marriage," he said, curtly. "Well, it won't be your first attempt in that way at all events! Of course, there's a fortune in view, or you would not try that speculation. But who's the lady--not me, I presume?"

she enquired, with another of those short bitter laughs which sounded so strangely from her lips.

"Not exactly!" he sneered; "I don't think you and I would just suit one another. Listen," he resumed, quietly, looking towards the door, and drawing closer to her, and sinking his voice as he spoke, "The girl is here--you understand?"

"I confess I do not see your drift," she said, wishing to draw him on to a full disclosure.

"Pshaw! Clara, you are not a fool; you understand me well enough."

"Perhaps I do, and perhaps I don't."

"Your eyes are not so blind that you cannot see when it is to your own interests. But there's no use in beating about the bush or mincing matters; you know this girl here."

"What! Susan Hartshorne--that poor idiot?" she exclaimed with well-acted amazement and horror.

"That same and no other," replied Markworth, positively blushing at being obliged actually to confess his own villainy. "But she's not an idiot, she's only foolish--half-silly; and there's no harm in it," he continued, half apologetically.

"And you want to marry her?" said the other.

"I do not _want_ to marry her; I _mean_ to marry her!" answered Markworth, quite himself again, and with his usual coolness and _sang froid_, "and you must help me. Listen! That girl has a fortune of twenty thousand pounds. I am so hard run for money that unless I get some before the present month is up, I shall be ruined--that girl has money which she does not want, and can never feel the need of--do you follow me?--consequently I mean to marry that girl. n.o.body cares for her here; her mother, I daresay, will be glad to get rid of her, and the girl will suffer no loss."

"You will take care of her, I suppose!" said the governess, in her pleasant biting way.

"Yes, I will take care of her--as good care, I daresay, as she gets now."

"Well, and supposing I lent myself to your purposes, what am I to get-- what is to be my share in the transaction? You don't suppose I am going to a.s.sist you and risk my situation for nothing?"

"I tell you what, Clara, if you help me in the affair I'll give you two hundred pounds; I can't give you more now, and I'll have hard work to get that, for I daresay I will have to go through a long law suit before I can get her fortune, and spend most of it, perhaps, in doing so, even if I do succeed in marrying the girl and getting her off."

"It's little enough! but how shall I know that you will pay me?--you have cheated me before, Markworth, and I would not trust your word for sixpence."

"You need not if you don't like, but I'll act fairly in the matter. I will give you a hundred before I get the girl away, and another hundred after I am married to her. There, will that do? If I don't pay you, you can expose the whole affair; and if you go back on me you will implicate yourself afterwards; so it serves both our purposes to act squarely. Do you know what the girl's age is?"

"Yes, twenty-one; I saw her age in the old family Bible, which Mrs Hartshorne keeps up-stairs in her own room."

"Well I wish you would get me a look at it, or find out the exact date of her birthday for me--it's important."

"I will let you know either this evening or to-morrow, better say to-morrow."

"That will do. Then the bargain is concluded between us. All I want you to do now is to help me gain the girl over, she looks tractable enough--and help me to get her away quietly. I'll give you the hundred before I get her off; then as soon as I marry her you shall get the other century. I can't help keeping my word to you, for you see it suits my own interest. It's little enough I want you to do. If all goes well it will run hard if I don't succeed and get the fortune, and I'll remember you afterwards. Do you agree--is it a settled thing between us?"

"Yes," said she, apparently reflecting a moment. "I suppose that will do, for if you don't pay me I shall then be able to disclose the whole transaction."

"Precisely," he answered, complacently, "You can have me indicted for conspiracy and what not! but there'll be no fear of that. We will not quarrel, Clara; what suits my book will suit yours."

Besides consulting Roger Hartshorne's will he had obtained legal advice on his contemplated marriage before coming down to The Poplars.

"Very well, if you are sensible you will play fair in the undertaking, and I shall be satisfied. If you keep your word I shall a.s.sist you; at all events _I_ am not going to marry the girl, so I shan't have anything to complain of if I get my money."

"I will pay you, never fear! and you must keep to your bargain, and allow me to work my own way with the girl, and a.s.sist me in the end to get her off. Don't forget to let me know to-morrow her right age, and write down the date of her birth--it might be useful to me. But about the girl herself, she is not really mad, is she?"

"I thought you yourself told me just now she was not."

"Bother! don't be so aggravating, Clara; you ought to know the girl, and be able to tell me about her."

"You need not alarm yourself, Mr Allynne Markworth," replied Miss Kingscott, with a sneer; "on the contrary, allow me to congratulate you.

You have tumbled into luck's way, and appear to have fallen upon your legs as usual. The girl is only, as you said, half-silly, and without being exactly an idiot can be made to do anything you and I please--that is, by judicious management."

She was going to say something further, but at this moment Tom re-entered the room, and, of course, the conversation was dropped.

"I was just asking Miss Kingscott if she liked croquet, and, Tom, do you know--can you believe it, she has never heard of that flirtative and fascinating game?" said Markworth, in his usual free and elegant manner.

"Really!" said Tom. "Then we must enlighten her. Markworth is the prince of croquetters, you know, Miss Kingscott"--turning to her, and that lady seemed pleased for the information, and transfixed poor Tom with her beautifully expressive eyes.

"Fine girl," he said presently to Markworth, as they went out of the room to smoke their cigars in the garden.

"Ya-a-s," he replied, spinning out his answer as if he had not quite made up his mind on the subject; "but she's no chicken."

He was right, and he ought to know, at all events. Miss Kingscott was "no chicken," either in years or in strength of mind.

The evening pa.s.sed quietly with Tom and his visitor, neither the governess nor Susan being seen again, and the old dowager was especially gracious as bed-time drew nigh. This was fixed at an early hour--ten o'clock.

Markworth was presently in his room, and as he undressed he moralised on the events of the day, and the progress of his plot.