Wife in Name Only Part 32

The carriage stopped at the grand entrance. Wishing to spare his young wife all fatigue and embarra.s.sment, Lord Arleigh had not dispatched the news of his marriage home, so that no one at Beechgrove expected to see Lady Arleigh. He sent at once for the housekeeper, a tall, stately dame, who came into the dining-room looking in unutterable amazement at the beautiful, blushing young face.

"Mrs. Chatterton," he said, "I wish to introduce you to my wife, Lady Arleigh."

The stately dame curtesied almost to the ground.

"Welcome home, my Lady," she said, deferentially. "If I had known that your ladyship was expected I would have made more befitting preparations."

"Nothing could be better--you have everything in admirable order,"

responded Lord Arleigh, kindly.

Then the housekeeper turned with a bow to her master.

"I did not know that you were married, my lord," she said.

"No, Mrs. Chatterton; for reasons of my own, I hurried on my marriage.

No one shall lose by the hurry, though"--which she knew meant a promise of handsome bounty.

Presently the housekeeper went with Lady Arleigh to her room.

The grandeur and magnificence of the house almost startled her. She felt more like Lady Burleigh than ever, as she went up the broad marble staircase and saw the long corridors with the mult.i.tude of rooms.

"His lordship wrote to tell me to have all the rooms in the western wing ready," said Mrs. Chatterton; "but he did not tell why. They are splendid rooms, my lady--large, bright and cheerful. They look over the beautiful beeches in the park, from which the place takes its name. Of course you will have what is called Lady Arleigh's suite."

As she spoke Mrs. Chatterton threw open the door, and Lady Arleigh saw the most magnificent rooms she had ever beheld in her life--a _boudoir_ all blue silk and white lace, a s.p.a.cious sleeping-chamber daintily hung with pink satin, a dressing-room that was a marvel of elegance, and a small library, all fitted with the greatest luxury.

"This is the finest suite of rooms in the house," said the housekeeper; "they are always kept for the use of the mistress of Beechgrove. Has your ladyship brought your maid?"

"No," replied Lady Arleigh; "the fact is I have not chosen one. The d.u.c.h.ess of Hazlewood promised to find one for me."

The ill.u.s.trious name pleased the housekeeper. She had felt puzzled at the quiet marriage, and the sudden home-coming. If the new mistress of Beechgrove was an intimate friend of her Grace of Hazlewood's, as her words seemed to imply, then all must be well.

When Lady Arleigh had changed her traveling-dress, she went down-stairs.

Her young husband looked up in a rapture of delight.

"Oh, Madaline," he said, "how long have you been away from me? It seems like a hundred hours, yet I do not suppose it has been one. And how fair you look, my love! That cloudy white robe suits your golden hair and your sweet face, which has the same soft, sweet expression as when I saw you first; and those pretty shoulders of yours gleam like polished marble through the lace. No dress could be more coquettish or prettier."

The wide hanging sleeves were fastened back from the shoulders with b.u.t.tons of pearl, leaving the white, rounded arms bare; a bracelet of pearls--Lady Peters' gift--was clasped round the graceful neck; the waves of golden hair, half loose, half carelessly fastened, were like a crown on the beautiful head.

"I am proud of my wife," he said. "I know that no fairer Lady Arleigh has ever been at Beechgrove. When we have dined, Madaline, I will take you to the picture-gallery, and introduce you to my ancestors and ancestresses."

A _recherche_ little dinner had been hastily prepared, and was served in the grand dining-room. Madaline's eyes ached with the dazzle of silver plate, the ornaments and magnificence of the room.

"Shall I ever grow accustomed to all this?" she asked herself. "Shall I ever learn to look upon it as my own? I am indeed bewildered."

Yet her husband admired her perfect grace and self-possession. She might have been mistress of Beechgrove all her life for any evidence she gave to the contrary. His pride in her increased every moment; there was no one like her.

"I have never really known what 'home' meant before, Madaline," he said.

"Imagine sitting opposite to a beautiful vision, knowing all the time that it is your wife. My own wife--there is magic in the words."

And she, in her sweet humility, wondered why Heaven had so richly blessed her, and what she had done that the great, pa.s.sionate love of this n.o.ble man should be hers. When dinner was ended he asked her if she was tired.

"No," she answered, laughingly; "I have never felt less fatigued."

"Then I should like to show you over the house," he said--"my dear old home. I am so proud of it, Madaline; you understand what I mean--proud of its beauty; its antiquity--proud that no shadow of disgrace has ever rested on it. To others these are simply ancient gray walls; to me they represent the honor, the stainless repute, the unshadowed dignity of my race. People may sneer if they will, but to me there seems nothing so sacred as love of race--jealousy of a stainless name."

"I can understand and sympathize with you," she said, "although the feeling is strange to me."

"Not quite strange, Madaline. Your mother had a name, dear, ent.i.tled to all respect. Now come with me, and I will introduce you to the long line of the Ladies Arleigh."

They went together to the picture-gallery, and as they pa.s.sed through the hall Madaline heard the great clock chiming.

"Ah, Norman," she said, listening to the chimes, "how much may happen in one day, however short that day may be."

Chapter XXV.

The picture-gallery was one of the chief attractions of Beechgrove; like the grand old trees, it had been the work of generations. The Arleighs had always been great patrons of the fine arts; many a lord of Beechgrove had expended what was a handsome fortune in the purchase of pictures. The gallery itself was built on a peculiar princ.i.p.al; it went round the whole of the house, extending from the eastern to the western wing--it was wide, lofty, well-lighted, and the pictures were well hung.

In wet weather the ladies of the house used it as a promenade. It was filled with art-treasures of all kinds, the acc.u.mulation of many generations. From between the crimson velvet hangings white marble statues gleamed, copies of the world's great masterpieces; there were also more modern works of art. The floor was of the most exquisite parquetry; the seats and lounges were soft and luxurious; in the great windows east and west there stood a small fountain, and the ripple of the water sounded like music in the quietude of the gallery. One portion of it was devoted entirely to family portraits. They were a wonderful collection perhaps one of the most characteristic in England.

Lord Arleigh and his young wife walked through the gallery.

"I thought the gallery at Verdun Royal the finest in the world," she said; "it is nothing compared to this."

"And this," he returned, "is small, compared with the great European galleries."

"They belong to nations; this belongs to an individual," she said--"there is a difference."

Holding her hand in his, he led her to the long line of fair-faced women. As she stood, the light from the setting sun falling on her fair face and golden hair, he said to himself that he had no picture in his gallery one-half so exquisite.

"Now," he said, "let me introduce you to the ladies of my race."

At that moment the sunbeams that had been shining on the wall died out suddenly. She looked up, half laughingly.

"I think the ladies of your race are frowning on me, Norman," she said.

"Hardly that; if they could but step down from their frames, what a stately company they would make to welcome you!"

And forthwith he proceeded to narrate their various histories.

"This resolute woman," he said, "with the firm lips and strong, n.o.ble face, lived in the time of the Roses; she held this old hall against her foes for three whole weeks, until the siege was raised, and the enemy retired discomfited."

"She was a brave woman," remarked Lady Arleigh.

"This was a heroine," he went on--"Lady Alicia Arleigh; she would not leave London when the terrible plague raged there. It is supposed that she saved numberless lives; she devoted herself to the nursing of the sick, and when all the fright and fear had abated, she found herself laden with blessings, and her name honored throughout the land. This is Lady Lola, who in time of riot went out unattended, unarmed, quite alone, and spoke to three or four hundred of the roughest men in the country; they had come, in the absence of her husband, to sack and pillage the Hall--they marched back again, leaving it untouched. This, Lady Constance, is a lineal descendant of Lady Nethsdale--the brave Lady Nethsdale."