Wylder's Hand Part 71

'You are better, darling; I think you are better,' he said, looking in her face, after a little pause.

'Yes, dear Stanley, much better; but why should you suppose any plot against our t.i.tle?'

'Mark Wylder is in constant correspondence with that fellow Larkin. I wish we were quietly rid of him, he is such an unscrupulous dog. I a.s.sure you, I doubt very much if the deeds are safe in his possession; at all events, he ought to choose between us and Mark Wylder. It is monstrous his being solicitor for both. The Wylders and Brandons have always been contesting the right to these estates, and the same thing may arise again any day.'

'But tell me, Stanley, how do you want to apply money? What particular good can it do us in this unpleasant uncertainty?'

'Well, Dorkie, believe me I have a sure instinct in matters of this kind.

Larkin is plotting treason against us. Wylder is inciting him, and will reap the benefit of it. Larkin hesitates to strike, but that won't last long. In the meantime, he has made a distinct offer to buy Five Oaks. His doing so places him in the same interest with us; and, although he does not offer its full value, still I should sleep sounder if it were concluded; and the fact is, I don't think we are safe until that sale _is_ concluded.'

Dorcas looked for a moment earnestly in his face, and then down, in thought.

'Now, Dorkie, I have told you all. Who is to advise you, if not your husband? Trust my sure conviction, and promise me, Dorcas, that you will not hesitate to join me in averting, by a sacrifice we shall hardly feel, a really stupendous blow.'

He kissed her hand, and then her lips, and he said--

'You _will_, Dorkie, I _know_ you will. Give me your promise.'

'Stanley, tell me once more, are you really quite frank when you tell me that you apprehend no personal injury from these people--apart, I mean, from the possibility of Mr. Larkin's conspiring to impeach our rights in favour of Mr. Wylder?'

'Personal injury? None in life, my darling.'

'And there is really no secret--nothing--_tell_ your wife--nothing you fear coming to light?'

'I swear again, nothing. _Won't_ you believe me, darling?'

'Then, if it be so, Stanley, I think we should hesitate long before selling any part of the estate, upon a mere conjecture of danger. You or I may over-estimate that danger, being so nearly affected by it. We must take advice; and first, we must consult Chelford. Remember, Stanley, how long the estate has been preserved. Whatever may have been their crimes and follies, those who have gone before us never impaired the Brandon estate; and, without full consideration, without urgent cause, I, Stanley, will not begin.'

'Why, it is only Five Oaks, and we shall have the money, you forget,'

said Stanley.

'Five Oaks is an estate in itself; and the idea of dismembering the Brandon inheritance seems to me like taking a plank from a ship--all will go down when that is done.'

'But you _can't_ dismember it; it is only a life estate.'

'Well, perhaps so; but Chelford told me that one of the London people said he thought Five Oaks belonged to me absolutely.'

'In that case the inheritance _is_ dismembered already.'

'I will have no share in selling the old estate, or any part of it, to strangers, Stanley, except in a case of necessity; and we must do nothing precipitately; and I must insist, Stanley, on consulting Chelford before taking any step. He will view the question more calmly than you or I can; and we owe him that respect, Stanley, he has been so very kind to us.'

'Chelford is the very last man whom I would think of consulting,'

answered Stanley, with his malign and peevish look.

'And why?' asked Dorcas.

'Because he is quite sure to advise against it,' answered Stanley, sharply. 'He is one of those Quixotic fellows who get on very well in fair weather, while living with a duke or d.u.c.h.ess, but are sure to run you into mischief when they come to the inns and highways of common life.

I know perfectly, he would protest against a compromise. Discharge Larkin--fight him--and see us valiantly stript of our property by some cursed law-quibble; and think we ought to be much more comfortable so, than in this house, on the terms of a compromise with a traitor like Larkin. But _I_ don't think so, nor any man of sense, nor anyone but a hairbrained, conceited knight-errant.'

'I think Chelford one of the most sensible as well as honourable men I know; and I will take no step in selling a part of our estate to that odious Mr. Larkin, without consulting him, and at least hearing what he thinks of it.'

Stanley's eyes were cast down--and he was nipping the struggling hairs of his light moustache between his lips--but he made no answer. Only suddenly he looked up, and said quietly,

'Very well. Good-bye for a little, Dorkie,' and he leaned over her and kissed her cheek, and then pa.s.sed into the hall, where he took his hat and cane.

Larcom presented him with a note, in a sealed envelope. As he took it from the salver he recognised Larkin's very clear and large hand. I suspect that grave Mr. Larcom had been making his observations and conjectures thereupon.

The captain took it with a little nod, and a peevish side-glance. It said--

'MY DEAR CAPTAIN BRANDON LAKE,--Imperative business calls me to London by the early train to-morrow. Will you therefore favour me, if convenient, _by the bearer_, with the small note of consent, which must accompany the articles agreeing to sell.

'I remain, &c. &c. &c.'

Larkin's groom was waiting for an answer.

'Tell him I shall probably see Mr. Larkin myself,' said the captain, snappishly; and so he walked down to pretty little Gylingden.

On the steps of the reading-room stood old Tom Ruddle, who acted as marker in the billiard-room, treasurer, and book-keeper beside, and swept out the premises every morning, and went to and fro at the proper hours, between that literary and sporting inst.i.tution and the post-office; and who, though seldom sober, was always well instructed in the news of the town.

'How do you do, old Ruddle--quite well?' asked the captain with a smile.

'Who have you got in the rooms?'

Well, Jos. Larkin was not there. Indeed he seldom showed in those premises, which he considered decidedly low, dropping in only now and then, like the great county gentlemen, on sessions days, to glance at the papers, and gossip on their own high affairs.

But Ruddle had seen Mr. Jos. Larkin on the green, not five minutes since, and thither the gallant captain bent his steps.

CHAPTER LXIII.

THE ACE OF HEARTS.

'So you are going to London--_to-morrow_, is not it?' said Captain Lake, when on the green of Gylingden where visitors were promenading, and the militia bands playing l.u.s.ty polkas, he met Mr. Jos. Larkin, in lavender trousers and kid gloves, new hat, metropolitan black frock-coat, and shining French boots--the most elegant as well as the most Christian of provincial attorneys.

'Ah, yes--I think--should my engagements permit--of starting early to-morrow. The fact is, Captain Lake, our poor friend the vicar, you know, the Rev. William Wylder, has pressing occasion for some money, and I can't leave him absolutely in the hands of Burlington and Smith.'

'No, of course--quite so,' said Lake, with that sly smile which made every fellow on whom it lighted somehow fancy that the captain had divined his secret. 'Very honest fellows, with good looking after--eh?'

The attorney laughed a little awkwardly, with his pretty pink blush over his long face.

'Well, I'm far from saying that, but it is their business, you know, to take care of _their_ client; and it would not do to give them the handling of _mine_. Can I do anything, Captain Lake, for you while in town?'

'Nothing on earth, thank you very much. But I am thinking of doing something for you. You've interested yourself a great deal about Mark Wylder's movements.'

'Not more than my duty clearly imposed.'