Books: He Knew He Was Right

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In the afternoon she made some such proposition to her aunt in
ambiguous terms. 'Go home!' said Miss Stanbury. 'Now?'

'If you think it best, Aunt Stanbury'

'And put yourself in the middle of all this iniquity and abomination! I
don't suppose you want to know the woman?'

'No, indeed!'

'Or the man?'

'Oh, Aunt Stanbury!'

'It's my belief that no decent gentleman in Exeter would look at you
again if you were to go and live among them at Nuncombe Putney while
all this is going on. No, no. Let one of you be saved out of it, at
least.' Aunt Stanbury had more than once made use of expressions which
brought the faintest touch of gentle pink up to her niece's cheeks. We
must do Dorothy the justice of saying that she had never dreamed of
being looked at by any gentleman, Whether decent or indecent. Her life
at Nuncombe Putney had been of such a nature, that though she knew that
other girls were looked at, and even made love to, and that they got
married and had children, no dim vision of such a career for herself
had ever presented itself to her eyes. She had known very well that her
mother and sister and herself were people apart ladies, and yet so
extremely poor that they could only maintain their rank by the most
rigid seclusion. To live, and work unseen, was what the world had
ordained for her. Then her call to Exeter had come upon her, and she
had conceived that she was henceforth to be the humble companion of a
very imperious old aunt. Her aunt, indeed, was imperious, but did not
seem to require humility in her companion. All the good things that
were eaten and drunk were divided between them with the strictest
impartiality. Dorothy's cushion and hassock in the church and in the
cathedral were the same as her aunt's. Her bed-room was made very
comfortable for her. Her aunt never gave her any orders before company,
and always spoke of her before the servants as one whom they were to
obey and respect. Gradually Dorothy came to understand the meaning of
this but her aunt would sometimes say things about young men which she
did not quite understand. Could it be that her aunt supposed that any
young man would come and wish to marry her her, Dorothy Stanbury? She
herself had not quite so strong an aversion to men in general as that
which Priscilla felt, but she had not as yet found that any of those
whom she had seen at Exeter were peculiarly agreeable to her. Before
she went to bed that night her aunt said a word to her which startled
her more than she had ever been startled before. On that evening Miss
Stanbury had a few friends to drink tea with her. There were Mr and Mrs
Crumbie, and Mrs MacHugh of course, and the Cheritons from Alphington,
and the Miss Apjohns from Helion Villa, and old Mr Powel all the way
from Haldon, and two of the Wrights from their house in the
Northernhay, and Mr Gibson but the Miss Frenches from Heavitree were
not there. 'Why don't you have the Miss Frenches, aunt?' Dorothy had
asked.

'Bother the Miss Frenches! I'm not bound to have them every time.
There's Camilla has been and got herself, a band-box on the back of her
head a great deal bigger than the place inside where her brains ought
to be.' But the band-box at the back of Camilla French's head was not
the sole cause of the omission of the two sisters from the list of Miss
Stanbury's visitors on this occasion.

The party went off very much as usual. There were two whist tables, for
Miss Stanbury could not bear to cut out. At other houses than her own,
when there was cutting out, it was quite understood that Miss Stanbury
was to be allowed to keep her place. 'I'll go away, and sit out there
by myself, if you like,' she would say. But she was never thus
banished; and at her own house she usually contrived that there should
be no system of banishment. She would play dummy whist, preferring it
to the four-handed game; and, when hard driven, and with a meet
opponent, would not even despise double-dummy. It was told of her and
of Mrs MacHugh that they had played double-dummy for a whole evening
together; and they who were given to calumny had declared that the
candles on that evening had been lighted very early. On the present
occasion a great many sixpenny points were scored, and much tea and
cake were consumed. Mr Gibson never played whist nor did Dorothy. That
young John Wright and Mary Cheriton should do nothing but talk to each
other was a thing of course, as they were to be married in a month or
two. Then there was Ida Cheriton, who could not very well be left at
home; and Mr Gibson made himself pleasant to Dorothy and Ida Cheriton,
instead of making himself pleasant to the two Miss Frenches. Gentlemen
in provincial towns quite understand that, from the nature of social
circumstances in the provinces, they should always be ready to be
pleasant at least to a pair at a time. At a few minutes before twelve
they were all gone, and then came the shock.

'Dolly, my dear, what do you think of Mr Gibson?'

'Think of him, Aunt Stanbury?'

'Yes; think of him think of him. I suppose you know how to think?'

'He seems to me always to preach very drawling sermons.'

'Oh, bother his sermons! I don't care anything about his sermons now.
He is a very good clergyman, and the Dean thinks very much about him.'

'I am glad of that, Aunt Stanbury.' Then came the shock. 'Don't you
think it would be a very good thing if you were to become Mrs Gibson?'

It may be presumed that Miss Stanbury had assured herself that she
could not make progress with Dorothy by 'beating about the bush.' There
was an inaptitude in her niece to comprehend the advantages of the
situations, which made some direct explanation absolutely necessary.
Dorothy stood half smiling, half crying, when she heard the
proposition, her cheeks suffused with that pink colour, and with both
her hands extended with surprise.

'I've been thinking about it ever since you've been here,' said Miss
Stanbury.

'I think he likes Miss French,' said Dorothy, in a whisper.

'Which of them? I don't believe he likes them at all. Maybe, if they go
on long enough, they may be able to toss up for him. But I don't think
it of him. Of course they're after him, but he'll be too wise for them.
And he's more of a fool than I take him to be if he don't prefer you to
them.' Dorothy remained quite silent. To such an address as this it was
impossible that she should reply a word. It was incredible to her that
any man should prefer herself to either of the young women in question;
but she was too much confounded for the expression even of her
humility. 'At any rate you're wholesome, and pleasant and modest,' said
Miss Stanbury.

Dorothy did not quite like being told that she was wholesome; but,
nevertheless, she was thankful to her aunt.

'I'll tell you what it is,' continued Miss Stanbury; 'I hate all
mysteries, especially with those I love. I've saved two thousand
pounds, which I've put you down for in my will. Now, if you and he can
make it up together, I'll give you the money at once. There's no
knowing how often an old woman may alter her will; but when you've got
a thing, you've got it. Mr Gibson would know the meaning of a bird in
the hand as well as anybody. Now those girls at Heavitree will never
have above a few hundreds each, and not that while their mother lives.'
Dorothy made one little attempt at squeezing her aunt's hand, wishing
to thank her aunt for this affectionate generosity; but she had hardly
accomplished the squeeze, when she desisted, feeling strangely averse
to any acknowledgment of such a boon as that which had been offered to
her. 'And now, good night, my dear. If I did not think you a very
sensible young woman, I should not trust you by saying all this.' Then
they parted, and Dorothy soon found herself alone in her bedroom.

To have a husband of her own, a perfect gentleman too, and a clergyman
and to go to him with a fortune! She believed that two thousand pounds
represented nearly a hundred a year. It was a large fortune in those
parts according to her understanding of ladies' fortunes. And that she,
the humblest of the humble, should be selected for so honourable a
position! She had never quite known, quite understood as yet, whether
she had made good her footing in her aunt's house in a manner pleasant
to her aunt. More than once or twice she had spoken even of going back
to her mother, and things had been said which had almost made her think
that her aunt had been angry with her. But now, after a month or two of
joint residence, her aunt was offering to her two thousand pounds and a
husband!

But was it within her aunt's power to offer to her the husband? Mr
Gibson had always been very civil to her. She had spoken more to Mr
Gibson than to any other man in Exeter. But it had never occurred to
her for a moment that Mr Gibson had any special liking for her. Was it
probable that he would ever entertain any feeling of that kind for her?
It certainly had occurred to her before now that Mr Gibson was
sometimes bored by the Miss Frenches but then gentlemen do get bored by
ladies.

And at last she asked herself another question had she any special
liking for Mr Gibson? As far as she understood such matters everything
was blank there. Thinking of that other question, she went to sleep.

CHAPTER XXIII - COLONEL OSBORNE AND MR BOZZLE RETURN TO LONDON

Hugh Stanbury went down on the Saturday, by the early express to
Exeter, on his road to Lessboro'. He took his ticket through to
Lessboro', not purposing to stay at Exeter; but, from the exigencies of
the various trains, it was necessary that he should remain for half an
hour at the Exeter Station. This took place on the Saturday, and
Colonel Osborne's visit to the Clock House had been made on the Friday.
Colonel Osborne had returned to Lessboro', had slept again at Mrs
Clegg's house, and returned to London on the Saturday. It so happened
that, he also was obliged to spend half an hour at the Exeter Station,
and that his half-hour, and Hugh Stanbury's half-hour, were one and the
same. They met, therefore, as a matter of course, upon the platform.
Stanbury was the first to see the other, and he found that he must
determine on the spur of the moment what he would say, and what he
would do. He had received no direct commission from Trevelyan as to his
meeting with Colonel Osborne. Trevelyan had declared that, as to the
matter of quarrelling, he meant to retain the privilege of doing that
for himself; but Stanbury had quite understood that this was only the
vague expression of an angry man. The Colonel had taken a glass of
sherry, and had lighted a cigar, and was quite comfortable having
thrown aside, for a time, that consciousness of the futility of his
journey which had perplexed him when Stanbury accosted him.

'What! Mr Stanbury how do you do? Fine day, isn't it? Are you going up
or down?'

'I'm going to see my own people at Nuncombe Putney, a village, beyond
Lessboro',' said Hugh.

'Ah indeed.' Colonel Osborne of course perceived it once that as this
man was going to the house at which he had just been visiting, it would
be better that he should himself explain what he had done. If he were
to allow this mention of Nuncombe Putney to pass without saying that he
himself had been there, he would be convicted of at least some purpose
of secrecy in what he had been doing. 'Very strange,' said he; 'I was
at Nuncombe Putney myself yesterday.'

'I know you were,' said Stanbury.

'And how did you know it?' There had been a tone of anger in Stanbury's
voice which Colonel Osborne had at once appreciated, and which made him
assume a similar one. As they spoke there was a man standing in a
corner close by the bookstall, with his eye upon them, and that man was
Bozzle, the ex-policeman who was doing his duty with sedulous activity
by seeing 'the Colonel' back to London. Now Bozzle did not know Hugh
Stanbury, and was angry with himself that, he should be so ignorant. It
is the pride of a detective ex-policeman to know everybody that comes
in his way.

'Well, I had been so informed. My friend Trevelyan knew that you were
there--or that you were going there.'

'I don't care who knew that I was going there,' said the Colonel.

'I won't pretend to understand how that may be, Colonel Osborne; but I
think you must be aware, after, what took place in Curzon Street, that
it would have been better that you should not have attempted to see Mrs
Trevelyan. Whether you have seen her I do not know.'

'What business is it of yours, Mr Stanbury, whether I have seen that
lady or not?'

'Unhappily for me, her husband has made it my business.'

'Very unhappily for you, I should say.'

'And the lady is staying at my mother's house.'

'I presume the lady is not a prisoner in your mother's house, and that
your mother's hospitality is not so restricted but that her guest may
see an old friend under her roof.' This, Colonel Osborne said with an
assumed look of almost righteous indignation, which was not at all lost
upon Bozzle. They had returned back towards the bookstall, and Bozzle,
with his eyes fixed on a copy of the 'D. R.' which he had just bought,
was straining his ears to the utmost to catch what was being said.

'You best know whether you have seen her or not.'

'I have seen her.'

'Then I shall take leave to tell you, Colonel Osborne, that you have
acted in a most unfriendly way, and have done that which must tend to
keep an affectionate husband apart from his wife.'

'Sir, I don't at all understand this kind of thing addressed to me. The
father of the lady you are speaking of has been my most intimate friend
for thirty years.' After all, the Coonel was a mean man when he could
take pride in his youth, and defend himself on the score of his age, in
one and the same proceeding.

'I have nothing further to say,' replied Stanbury.

'You have said too much already, Mr Stanbury.'

'I think not, Colonel Osborne. You have, I fear, done an incredible
deal, of mischief by going to Nuncombe Putney; and, after all that you
have heard on the subject, you must have known that it would be
mischievous. I cannot understand how you can force yourself about a
man's wife against the man's expressed wish.'

'Sir, I didn't force myself upon anybody. Sir, I went down to see an
old friend and a remarkable piece of antiquity. And, when another old
friend was in the neighbourhood, close by one of the oldest friends I
have in the world wasn't I to go and see her? God bless my soul! What
business is it of yours? I never heard such impudence in my life!' Let
the charitable reader suppose that Colonel Osborne did not know that he
was lying that he really thought, when he spoke, that he had gone down
to Lessboro' to see the remarkable piece of antiquity.

'Good morning,' said Hugh Stanbury, turning on his heels and walking
away. Colonel Osborne shook himself, inflated his cheeks, and blew
forth the breath out of his mouth, put his thumbs up to the armholes of
his waistcoat, and walked about the platform as though he thought it to
be incumbent on him to show that he was somebody somebody that ought
not to be insulted somebody, perhaps, whom a very pretty woman might
prefer to her own husband, in spite of a small difference in age. He
was angry, but not quite so much angry as proud. And he was safe, too.
He thought that he was safe. When he should come to account for himself
and his actions to his old friend, Sir Marmaduke, he felt that he would
be able to show that he had been, in all respects, true to friendship.
Sir Marmaduke had unfortunately given his daughter to a jealous,
disagreeable fellow, and the fault all lay in that. As for Hugh
Stanbury he would simply despise Hugh Stanbury, and have done with it.

Mr Bozzle, though he had worked hard in the cause, had heard but a word
or two. Eaves-droppers seldom do hear more than that. A porter had
already told him who was Hugh Stanbury that he was Mr Hugh Stanbury,
and that his aunt lived at Exeter. And Bozzle, knowing that the lady
about whom he was concerned was living with a Mrs Stanbury at the house
he had been watching, put two and two together with his natural
cleverness. 'God bless my soul! what business is it of yours?' Those
words were nearly all that Bozzle had been able to hear; but even those
sufficiently indicated a quarrel. 'The lady' was living with Mrs
Stanbury, having been so placed by her husband; and young Stanbury was
taking the lady's part! Bozzle began to fear that the husband had not
confided in him with that perfect faith which he felt to be essentially
necessary to the adequate performance of the duties of his great
profession. A sudden thought, however, struck him. Something might be
done on the journey up to London. He at once made his way back to the
ticket-window and exchanged his ticket second-class for first-class. It
was a noble deed, the expense falling all upon his own pocket; for, in
the natural course of things, he would have charged his employers with
the full first-class fare. He had seen Colonel Osborne seat himself in,
a carriage, and within two minutes he was occupying the opposite place.
The Colonel was aware that he had noticed the man's face lately, but
did not know where.

'Very fine summer weather, sir,' said Bozzle.

'Very fine,' said the Colonel, burying himself behind a newspaper.

'They is getting up their wheat nicely in these parts, sir.'

The answer to this was no more than a grunt. But Bozzle was not
offended. Not to be offended is the special duty of all policemen, in
and out of office; and the journey from Exeter to London was long, and
was all before him.

'A very nice little secluded village is Nuncombe Putney,' said Bozzle,
as the train was leaving the Salisbury station.

At Salisbury two ladies had left the carriage, no one else had got in,
and Bozzle. was alone with the Colonel.

'I dare say,' said the Colonel, 'who by this time had relinquished his
shield, and who had begun to compose himself for sleep, or to pretend
to compose himself, as soon as he heard Bozzle's voice. He had been
looking at Bozzle, and though he had not discovered the man's trade,
had told himself that his companion was a thing of dangers a thing to
be avoided, by one engaged, as had been he himself, on a special and
secret mission.

'Saw you there calling at the Clock House,' said Bozzle.

'Very likely,' said the Colonel, throwing his head well back into the
corner, shutting his eyes, and uttering a slight preliminary snore.

'Very nice family of ladies at the Clock House,' said Bozzle. The
Colonel answered him by a more developed snore. 'Particularly Mrs T,'
said Bozzle.

The Colonel could not stand this. He was so closely implicated with Mrs
Trevelyan at the present moment that he could not omit to notice an
address so made to him. 'What the devil is that to you, sir?' said he,
jumping up and confronting Bozzle in his wrath.

But policemen have always this advantage in their difficulties, that
they know to a fraction what the wrath of men is worth, and what it can
do. Sometimes it can dismiss a policeman, and sometimes break his head.
Sometimes it can give him a long and troublesome job, and sometimes it
may be wrath to the death. But in nineteen out of twenty cases it is
not a fearful thing, and the policeman knows well when he need not fear
it. On the present occasion Bozzle was not at all afraid of Colonel
Osborne's wrath.

'Well, sir, not much, indeed, if you come to that. 'Only you was there,
sir.'

'Of course I was there,' said the Colonel.

'And a very nice young gentleman is Mr Stanbury,' said Bozzle.

To this Colonel Osborne made no reply, but again had resort to his
newspaper in the most formal manner.

'He's a going down to his family, no doubt,' continued Bozzle.

'He may be going to the devil for what I know,' said the Colonel, who
could not restrain himself.

'I suppose they're all friends of Mrs T.'s?' asked Bozzle.

'Sir,' said the Colonel, 'I believe that you're a spy.'

'No, Colonel, no; no, no; I'm no spy. I wouldn't demean myself to be
such. A spy is a man as has no profession, and nothing to justify his
looking into things. Things must be looked into, Colonel; or how's a
man to know where he is? or how's a lady to know where she is? But as
for spies, except in the way of evidence, I don't think nothing of
'em.' Soon after this, two more passengers entered the train, and
nothing more was said between Bozzle and the Colonel.

The Colonel, as soon as he reached London, went home to his lodgings,
and then to his club, and did his best to enjoy himself. On the
following Monday he intended to start for Scotland. But he could not
quite enjoy himself because of Bozzle. He felt that he was being
watched; and there is nothing that any man hates so much as that,
especially when a lady is concerned. Colonel Osborne knew that his
visit to Nuncombe Putney had been very innocent; but he did not, like
the feeling that even his innocence had been made the subject of
observation.

Bozzle went away at once to Trevelyan, whom he found at his chambers.
He himself had had no very deep-laid scheme in his addresses to Colonel
Osborne. He had begun to think that very little would come of the
affair especially after Hugh Stanbury had appeared upon the scene and
had felt that there was nothing to be lost by presenting himself before
the eyes of the Colonel. It was necessary that he should make a report
to his employer, and the report might be made a little more full after
a few words with the man whom he had been 'looking into.' 'Well, Mr
Trewillian,' he said, seating himself on a chair close against the
wall, and holding his hat between the knees 'I've seen the parties, and
know pretty much all about it.'

'All I want to know, Mr Bozzle, is, whether Colonel Osborne has been at
the Clock House?'

'He has been there, Mr Trewillian. There is no earthly dobt about that.
From hour to hour I can tell you pretty nearly where he's been since he
left London.' Then Bozzle took out his memorandum-book.

'I don't care about all that,' said Trevelyan.

'I dare say not, sir; but it may be wanted all the same. Any gentleman
acting in our way can't be too particular can't have too many facts.
The smallest little tiddly things, and Bozzle as he said this seemed to
enjoy immensely the flavour of his own epithet 'the smallest little
"tiddly" things do so often turn up trumps when you get your evidence
into court.'

'I'm not going to get any evidence into court.'

'Maybe not, sir. A gentleman and lady is always best out of court as
long as things can hang on any way but sometimes things won't hang on
no way.'

Trevelyan, who was conscious that the employment of Bozzle was
discreditable, and whose affairs in Devonshire were now in the hands
of, at any rate, a more honourable ally, was at present mainly anxious
to get rid of the ex-policeman. 'I have no doubt you've been very
careful, Mr Bozzle,' said he.

'There isn't no one in the business could be more so, Mr Trewillian.'

'And you have found out what it was necessary that I should know.
Colonel Osborne did go to the Clock House?'

'She was let in at the front door on Friday the 5th by Sarah French,
the housemaid, at 10.37 a.m., and was let out again by the same young
woman at 11.44 a.m. Perhaps you'd like to have a copy of the entry, Mr
Trewillian?'.

'No, no, no.'

'It doesn't matter. Of course it'll be with me when it's wanted. Who
was with him, exactly, at that time, I can't say. There is things, Mr
Trewillian, one can't see. But I don't think as he saw neither Mrs
Stanbury, nor Miss Stanbury not to speak to. I did just have one word,
promiscuous, with Sarah French, after he was gone. Whether the other
young lady was with 'em or not, and if so for how long, I can't say.
There is things, Mr Trewillian, which one can't see.'

How Trevelyan hated the man as he went on with his odious details
details not one of which possessed the slightest importance. 'It's all
right, I dare say, Mr Bozzle. And now about the account.'

'Quite so, Mr Trewillian. But there was one question just one
question.'

'What question?' said Trevelyan, almost angrily.

'And there's another thing I must tell you, too, Mr Trewillian. I come
back to town in the same carriage with the Colonel. I thought it
better.'

'You did not tell him who you were?'

'No, Mr Trewillian; I didn't tell him that. I don't think he'd say if
you was to ask him that I told him much of anything. No, Mr Trewillian,
I didn't tell him nothing. I don't often tell folks much till the time
comes. But I thought it better, and I did have a word or two with the
gent just a word or two. He's not so very downy, isn't the Colonel for
one that's been at it so long, Mr Trewillian.'

'I dare say not. But if you could just let me have the account, Mr
Bozzle--'

'The account? Oh, yes that is necessary; ain't it? These sort of
inquiries do come a little expensive, Mr Trewillian; because time goes
for so much; and when one has to be down on a thing, sharp, you know,
and sure, so that counsel on the other side can't part you from it,
though he shakes you like a dog does a rat and one has to get oneself
up ready for all that, you know, Mr Trewillian as I was saying, one
can't count one's shillings when one has such a job as this in hand.
Clench your nail that's what I say; be it even so. Clench your nail
that's what you've got to do.'