Johnny Ludlow Fourth Series Part 49

In making this promise, Miss Verena Fontaine probably did not understand the demands on a chief mate's time when a ship is getting ready for sea.

To rush up from the docks at the mid-day hour, and rush back again in time for work, was not practicable. Pym had done it once; he could not do it twice. Therefore, the only time to be seized upon was after six o'clock, when the _Rose of Delhi_ was left to herself and her watchman for the night, and the dock-gates were shut. This brought it, you see, to about seven o'clock, before Pym could be hovering, like a wandering ghost, up and down the Marylebone Road; for he had to go to his lodgings in Ship Street first and put himself to rights after his day's work, to say nothing of drinking his tea. And seven o'clock was Miss Verena Fontaine's dinner hour. Sir Dace Fontaine's mode of dining was elaborate; and, what with the side-dishes, the puddings and the dessert, it was never over much before nine o'clock.

For two days Verena made her dinner at luncheon. Late dining did not agree with her, she told Coralie, and she should prefer some tea in her room. Coralie watched, and saw her come stealing in each night soon after nine. Until that hour, she had promenaded with Edward Pym in the bustling lighted streets, or in the quieter walks of the Regent's Park.

On the third day, Sir Dace told her that she must be in her place at the dinner-table. Verena wondered whether the order emanated from his arbitrary temper, or whether he had any suspicion. So, that evening she dined as usual; and when she and Coralie went into the drawing-room at eight o'clock, she said her head ached, and she should go to bed.

That night there was an explosion. Docked of an hour at the beginning of their interview, the two lovers made up for it by lingering together an hour longer at the end of it. It was striking ten when Verena came in, and found herself confronted by her father. Verena gave Coralie the credit of betraying her, but in that she was wrong. Sir Dace--he might have had his suspicions--suddenly called for a particular duet that was a favourite with his daughters, bade Coralie look it out, and sent up for Verena to come down and sing it. Miss Verena was not to be found, so could not obey.

Sir Dace, I say, met her on the stairs as she came in. He put his hand on her shoulder to turn her footsteps to the drawing-room, and shut the door. Then came the explosion. Verena did not deny that she had been out with Pym. And Sir Dace, in very undrawing-room-like language, swore that she should see Pym no more.

"We have done no harm, papa. We have been to Madame Tussaud's."

"Listen to me, Verena. Attempt to go outside this house again while that villain is in London, and I will carry you off, as I carried you from Crabb. You cannot beard _me_."

It was not pleasant to look at the face of Sir Dace as he said it. At these moments of excitement, it would take a dark tinge underneath the skin, as if the man, to use Jack Tanerton's expression, had a touch of the tar-brush; and the dark sullen eyes would gleam with a peculiar light, that did not remind one of an angel.

"We saw Henry the Eighth and his six wives," went on Vera. "Jane Seymour looked the nicest."

"How _dare_ you talk gibberish, at a moment like this?" raved Sir Dace.

"As to that man, I have cursed him. And you will learn to thank me for it."

Verena turned whiter than a sheet. Her answering words seemed brave enough, but her voice shook as she spoke them.

"Papa, you have no right to interfere with my destiny in life; no, though you are the author of my being. I have promised to be the wife of my cousin Edward, and no earthly authority shall stay me. You may be able to control my movements now by dint of force, for you are stronger than I am; but my turn will come."

"Edward Pym--hang him!--is bad to the backbone."

"I will have him whether he is bad or good," was Verena's mental answer: but she did not say it aloud.

"And I will lock you in your room from this hour, if you dare defy me,"

hissed Sir Dace.

"I do not defy you, papa. It is your turn, I say; and you have strength and power on your side."

"Take care you do not. It would be the worse for you."

"Very well, papa," sighed Verena. "I cannot help myself now; but in a twelvemonth's time I shall be my own mistress. We shall see then."

Sir Dace looked upon the words as a sort of present concession. He concluded Miss Verena had capitulated and would not again go a-roving.

So he did not go the length of locking her in her room.

Verena was mild as milk the next day, and good as gold. She never stirred from the side of Coralie, but sat practising a new netting-st.i.tch, her temper sweet, her face placid. The thought of stealing out again to meet Mr. Pym was apparently further off than Asia.

I have said that I was in London at this time, staying with Miss Deveen.

It was curious that I should be so during those dreadful events that were so soon to follow. Connected with the business that kept me and Mr.

Brandon in town, was a short visit made us by the Squire. Not that the Squire need have come; writing would have done; but he was nothing loth to do so: and it was lovely weather. He stayed with Mr. Brandon at his hotel in Covent Garden; and we thought he meant to make a week of it.

The Squire was as fond of the sights and the shops as any child.

I went down one morning to breakfast with them at the Tavistock, and there met Jack Tanerton. Later, we started to take a look at a famous cricket-match that was being played at Lord's. In crossing the Marylebone Road, we met Sir Dace Fontaine.

His lodgings were close by, he said, and he would have us go in. It was the day I have just told you of; when Verena sat, good as gold, by her sister's side, trying the new netting-st.i.tch.

The girls were in a sort of boudoir, half-way up the stairs. The French would, I suppose, call it the entresol: a warm-looking room, with stained gla.s.s in the windows, and a rich coloured carpet. Coralie and Vera were, as usual, dressed alike, in delicate summer-muslins.

Vera--how pretty she looked!--had blue ribbon in her hair: her blue eyes laughed at seeing us, a pink flush set off her dimples.

"When do you sail, Captain Tanerton?" abruptly asked Sir Dace, suddenly interrupting the conversation.

"On Thursday, all being well," answered Jack.

"Do you take out the same mate?--that Pym?"

"I believe so; yes, Sir Dace."

We had to go away, or should not find standing-room on the cricket-ground. Sir Dace said he would accompany us, and called out to Ozias to bring his hat. Before the hat came, he thought better of it, and said he would not go; those sights fatigued him. I did not know what had taken place until later, or I might have thought he stayed at home to guard Verena. He gave us a cordial invitation to dinner in the evening, we must all go, he said; and Mr. Brandon was the only one of us who declined.

"I am very busy," said Jack, "but I will contrive to get free by seven this evening."

"Very busy indeed, when you can spend the day at Lord's!" laughed Verena.

"I am not going to Lord's," said Jack. Which was true. "I have come up this way to see an invalid pa.s.senger who is going out in my ship."

"Oh," quoth Vera, "I thought what a nice idle time you were having of it. Mind, Johnny Ludlow, that you take me in to dinner to-night. I have something to tell you."

Close upon the dinner-hour named, seven, the Squire and I were again at Sir Dace Fontaine's. Tanerton's cab came dashing up at the same moment.

Coralie was in the drawing-room alone, her white dress and herself resplendent in coral ornaments. Sir Dace came in, and the Squire began telling him about the cricket-match, saying he ought to have been there.

Presently Sir Dace rang the bell.

"How is it that dinner's late?" he asked sternly of Ozias--for Sir Dace liked to be served to the moment.

"The dinner only wait for Miss Verena, sir," returned Ozias, "She no down yet."

Sir Dace turned round sharply to look at the sofa behind him, where I sat with Coralie, talking in an undertone. He had not noticed, I suppose, but that both sisters were there.

"Let Miss Verena be told that we wait for her," he said, waving his hand to Ozias.

Back came Ozias in a minute or two. "Miss Verena, she no upstairs, sir.

She no anywhere."

Of all the frowns that ever made a face ugly, the worst sat on Sir Dace Fontaine's, as he turned to Coralie.

"Have you let her go out?" he asked.

"Why of course she is not out, papa," answered Coralie, calm and smiling as usual.

"Let Esther go into Miss Verena's room, Ozias, and ask her to come down at once."

"Esther go this last time, Miss Coralie. She come down and say, Ozias, Miss Verena no upstairs at all; she go out."

"How dare----" began Sir Dace; but Coralie interrupted him.