Books: Jeanne Of The Marshes
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E. Phillips Oppenheim >> Jeanne Of The Marshes
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"Ah, well," he answered, "I had perhaps a little more education than
some of them."
The servant returned with some more things upon a tray. Jeanne sat
down with a little laugh in front of the teapot. She was very much
afraid of saying more than was polite, and she felt that she was
amongst utterly strange surroundings. Yet it seemed to her a most
extraordinary thing that a fisherman in a country village should
possess a silver teapot and old Worcester china, and should be
waited upon by a man servant even though he were the man servant of
a lodger.
CHAPTER XVIII
The storm died away with the coming of evening, but a great sea
still broke upon the island beach and floated up the estuary. Andrew
stood outside his door and looked across toward the mainland with a
perplexed frown. It was barely a hundred yards crossing, but it was
certain that no boat could live for half the distance. Jeanne, who
had recovered her spirits, stood by his side, and smiled as she saw
the white crested waves come rolling up.
"It is beautiful, this," she declared. "Do you not love to feel the
spray on your cheeks, Mr. Andrew? And how salt it smells, and
fresh!"
"That is all very well," Andrew answered, "but I am wondering how we
are going to get over to the other side there."
"I do not think," she answered, "that it will be possible for a
long, long time. You will have to take me as a lodger whether you
want to or not. I would not trust myself in a boat even with you,
upon a sea like that."
"It will be high tide in half an hour," Andrew said, "and the sea
will go down fast enough then."
"It may not," she answered hopefully. "I rather believe that there
is another storm blowing up."
"There will be no dinner for you," he warned her.
"That I can endure cheerfully," she declared. "I am sick of dinners.
I hate them. They come much too soon, and one has always the same
things to eat. I am quite sure that I shall dine quite nicely with
you, Mr. Andrew."
He glanced at his watch and looked out seaward. It was even as she
had said. There were indications of another storm. Even while they
stood there the large raindrops fell.
"We had better go in," Andrew said. "It is going to rain again."
She clapped her hands, and danced lightly back into the house. She
subsided into his easy chair and clasped her hands over her head.
"Come and stand there on the hearthrug," she demanded, "and tell me
stories--stories of fishing adventures and storms, and things that
have happened to yourself. Never mind how ordinary they may seem. I
want to hear them. Remember that everything is new to me. Everything
is interesting." He accepted the inevitable at last, and they talked
until the twilight filled the room. It was strange how much and yet
how little she knew. The fascination of her worldly ignorance was a
thing which grew continually upon him. Suddenly she burst into a
little peal of laughter.
"I was wondering," she remarked, "whether they are waiting dinner
for me. I can just imagine how frightened they all are."
"I had forgotten all about them," Andrew confessed. "Wait a moment."
He left the room and walked out on to the beach. The sea was still
dashing its spray high over the roof of the little cottage. The
stones outside were wet to within a few feet of his door. He looked
across toward the mainland. Far away he fancied that he could see
men carrying lanterns like will-o'-the-wisps, in that part of the
marshes near the Hall. He retraced his steps to the sitting-room.
"I am afraid," he said, "that it will not be possible to take you
back to-night. The sea is still too rough for my boat, and shows no
sign of going down."
She clapped her hands.
"I am very glad," she declared frankly. "I would very much rather
stay here than go back. Shall we go and see what there is for
dinner? I can cook quite well. I learnt at the convent, but I have
never had a chance to really try what I can do."
He smiled.
"Well," he said, "you can do exactly what you like with the contents
of my larder, but so far as I am concerned, I must go."
"Go?" she repeated wonderingly. "If I cannot leave the island,
surely you cannot!"
"Yes!" he answered. "There is another way. I am going to swim over
to the mainland and let them know at the Hall where you are."
She was suddenly serious, serious as well as disappointed.
"You must not," she declared. "It is too dangerous. I will not have
you try it. You must stay here with me. I am not used to being left
alone. I should be very lonely indeed. You must please not think of
going."
"Miss Jeanne," he said quietly, "there are many things which you do
not know, and you must let me tell you this, that it is not possible
for me to keep you here as my guest until to-morrow. You cannot
leave the island, so I am going to. I can assure you that it is
nothing whatever of a swim, and I shall get to the other side quite
easily. Then I am going down to the village to get some dry clothes,
and I shall go up to the Hall and talk to your stepmother."
"If you make me go back," she declared, "I shall run away the first
time I have an opportunity, and if you will not have me, I dare say
I can find some one else who has a room to let, who will."
"I am not your keeper," he answered, "but please don't do anything
rash until I tell you what your stepmother says."
"It is you who are rash," she declared. "I do not think that I can
let you go. I am afraid, and the water looks so cruel to-night."
He laughed as he stepped outside.
"I am going round to leave some orders with Mr. Berners' servant,"
he said, "and after that I am going. You must ring for anything you
want, and the man will show you your room if you want to lie down. I
dare say, though, that some one will come from the Hall presently.
The sea will be calmer in a few hours' time."
She walked with him to the edge of the beach. When he drew off his
coat and turned up his sleeves she trembled with anxiety.
"Oh, I am afraid," she muttered. "I don't like your going in. I
don't like your doing this. I am sorry that I ever came."
He laughed a little scornfully, and plunged in. She watched his head
appear and disappear, her heart beating fast all the time. Once she
lost sight of it altogether and screamed. Almost immediately he came
up to the surface again, and turning round waved his hand to her.
"I am all right," he sang out. "Going strong. It's quite easy."
A few minutes later she saw him wading, and directly afterwards he
stood upon the sands opposite to her. He waved his hand. She put her
fingers to her lips and threw him a kiss. He pretended not to
notice, and started off toward the village, and her low laugh came
floating to him in a momentary lull of the wind.
Half-way across the marshes he changed his course, clambered up a
high bank on to the road, and turned toward the Hall. Barer than
ever the great gaunt building seemed to stand out against the sky
line, but from every window lights were flashing, and the windows of
the dining-room seemed to reflect a perfect blaze of light. Andrew
made his way to the back entrance, and entering unobserved, made his
way up to his own room.
* * *
Dinner was over, and the little party of three were settling down to
their coffee and cigarettes when the Princess' maid came down and
whispered in her mistress' ear. The Princess turned to her host
perplexed.
"Has any one seen anything of Jeanne?" she inquired. "Reynolds has
just told me that she has not returned at all."
"I thought you said that she was lying down with a headache," Cecil
interposed eagerly.
"I thought so myself," the Princess answered. "Early this afternoon
she told me that she had no sleep last night, that she had a very
bad headache, and that she was going to bed. As a matter of fact she
went out almost at once, and has not returned." Cecil was already on
his way to the door.
"We will send out into the village at once," he said, "and some one
must go on the marshes. There are plenty of places there where it
would have been absolutely unsafe for her in such a storm as we have
had. Ring the bell, Forrest, will you?"
Andrew stepped in and closed the door behind him.
"It is not necessary," he said. "I can tell you all about Miss Le
Mesurier."
CHAPTER XIX
There was a moment's breathless silence as Andrew stood there
looking in upon the little group. Then he left his position at the
door and came up to the table round which they were seated.
"Madam," he said to the Princess, "your daughter is safe. She came
down to the island this afternoon, and was unable to return owing to
the storm."
The Princess gave a little sigh of relief.
"Foolish child!" she said. "But where is she now, Mr. Andrew?"
"She is still at the island," Andrew answered. "It was impossible
for her to leave, so I came here to tell you of her whereabouts."
"It was extremely thoughtful of you," the Princess said graciously.
"If Miss Le Mesurier was unable to leave the island, how was it that
you came?" Major Forrest asked, looking at Andrew through his
eyeglass as though he were some sort of natural curiosity.
"I swam over," Andrew answered. "It was a very short distance."
It was about this time that they all noticed the fact that Andrew
was wearing clothes of an altogether different fashion to the
fisherman's garb in which they had seen him previously. The Princess
looked at him perplexed. Cecil felt instinctively that the event
which he had most dreaded was about to happen.
"And you came up here purposely to relieve our minds, Mr. Andrew,"
the Princess said. "Really it is most kind of you. I wish that there
were some way--"
She hesitated, a slight note of question in her tone, expressed also
by her upraised eyebrows.
"I had a further reason for coming," Andrew said slowly. "I am very
sorry indeed to seem inhospitable or discourteous, but there is a
certain matter which must be cleared up, and at once. I refer to the
disappearance of Lord Ronald."
There was an instant's dead silence. Then Forrest, with white face,
leaned across the table.
"Who the devil are you?" he asked.
"I am Andrew de la Borne," Andrew answered, "the owner of these poor
estates, which I am very well content to leave for the greater part
of the time in my brother's care, only that he is young, and is
liable to make mistakes. He has made one, sir, I fear, in offering
you the hospitality of the Red Hall."
Forrest rose slowly to his feet. The Princess held out her hand as
though to beg him not to speak. She turned towards Andrew.
"I do not understand, sir," she said, "why you have chosen to
masquerade under another name, and why you come now to insult your
brother's guests in such a manner. Is what he says true, Cecil?" she
added, turning towards him. "Is this man your brother?"
"Yes!" Cecil answered sullenly. "He tells the truth. It is just like
him to make such a thundering idiot of himself."
"I beg your pardon," Andrew answered. "It is not I, Cecil, who
desire to come here and say these things to any guest of yours. It
is you who are sheltering under this roof one man at least to whom
you should never have offered your hospitality. The Duke of
Westerham, who has been my guest for the last few days, told me all
that one needs to know about you, sir, and your career."
Forrest asked no more questions. He turned to Cecil.
"Mr. De la Borne," he said, "I have understood that you were my
host, and I appeal to you. Is this person indeed your elder
brother?"
"Yes!" Cecil answered.
"You know what this means," Forrest continued, speaking to Cecil. "I
cannot remain in this house any longer. I could only accept
hospitality from those who have at least learned to comport
themselves as gentlemen."
Andrew smiled.
"I will not grudge you, sir," he said, "any reasonable excuse for
leaving this house as quickly as may be, but before you go, I insist
upon knowing what has become of Lord Ronald."
Cecil turned towards his brother angrily.
"I am sick of hearing about Engleton!" he declared. "I tell you that
he left here, Andrew, on Wednesday morning, and caught the 9-5 train
to London, or at any rate to Peterboro'. Whether he went north,
south, east, or west, is no concern of ours. We only know that he
promised to come back and has not come."
"There is more to be learnt then," Andrew answered. "How did he get
to Lynn Station that morning?"
"In the motor car," Cecil answered.
"Who drove it?" Andrew asked.
"Major Forrest," Cecil answered.
"It is a lie!" Andrew declared. "The car never went a hundred yards
beyond the gates. I know that for a fact."
Again there was silence. The Princess intervened.
"Mr. Andrew," she began--"I beg your pardon, Mr. De la Borne--
supposing Lord Ronald did wish to keep his departure and the manner
of it a great secret, why should it trouble you? You don't suppose,
I presume, that there has been a fight, or anything of that sort?"
"I only know," Andrew answered, "that the brother of one of my
dearest friends has disappeared from this house, after spending
several days in the company of a man of bad reputation. That is
quite enough for me. I am determined to get to the bottom of the
matter."
"It is a very little matter, after all," the Princess said calmly.
"Perhaps--"
She hesitated, and looked at the two other men.
"Perhaps," she continued slowly, "it would be as well to tell you
the truth."
"If you do not, madam," Andrew answered, "it is more than probable
that I shall speedily elicit it."
Both Forrest and Cecil seemed stricken speechless, and before they
could recover themselves the Princess had commenced her story,
talking with easy and convincing fluency.
"Lord Ronald," she said, "did leave here at the time you and the
Duke have been told, and Major Forrest did try to drive him in the
motor to Lynn Station. When he found that that was impossible, that
they could not get the engine to go, Lord Ronald left his luggage
here and walked to Wells. That is the last we have heard of him. He
asked that his luggage should be sent to his rooms in London, and we
sent it off the next day. He left here on good terms with everybody,
but he told us distinctly that the business on which he was summoned
away was of a very unpleasant nature. I think that some one was
trying to blackmail him. Now you can make what inquiries you like,
but I am very certain of one thing, that anything you may discover
is more likely to bring discredit upon Lord Ronald himself than
anybody else."
"Madam," Andrew said, "your story, of course, I am bound to accept
as the truth, but I must tell you frankly that I shall pass it on to
the Duke, who will take up his inquiries from the point you name. If
he finds that the facts do not correspond with what you have told
me, I fear that the consequences will be disagreeable for all of
you."
"Of what on earth do you suspect us?" Major Forrest asked sharply.
"Do you think that we have made away with Engleton? Why should we?
We may be the adventurers you delicately suggest, but at least we
should have an object in our crimes. Engleton had not a ten-pound
note of ready money with him. I know that for a fact, because I lent
him some money to pay his chauffeur's wages when he sent him away."
"You are perhaps holding some of his IOU's?" Andrew asked.
"I certainly am," Forrest answered, "and the sooner I hear from him
the better. If you are really the owner of this house, I shall leave
to-morrow morning."
Andrew bowed coldly.
"That," he said, "would certainly seem to be your best course. On
the contrary," he added, "I am not altogether sure that I am
justified in letting you go."
The Princess frowned at him indignantly.
"You talk nonsense, my dear Mr. Andrew, or Mr. Andrew de la Borne,"
she said. "If you tried to retain Major Forrest on such a cock and
bull pretext, you would be probably very soon sorry for it. Besides
you have no power to do anything of the sort."
"Madam," Andrew answered, "I am a magistrate, and I could sign a
warrant on the spot. I do not, however, feel justified in going to
such lengths. I feel sure that if Major Forrest is wanted, we shall
be able to find him."
"Of course you will," the Princess intervened calmly. "Men like
Major Forrest do not run away just because some one chooses to make
a ridiculous charge against them. If only I could get Jeanne, I
would leave myself to-night."
"My dear Princess," Cecil said, "I hope that you do not mean it. My
brother has said more than he means, I am sure."
"I have said less." Andrew replied. "I have the very best reasons
for believing that Major Forrest has lied his way into whatever
friendship he may have had with Lord Ronald and my brother."
Forrest moved toward the door.
"Mr. De la Borne," he said to Cecil, "you will forgive me if I
decline to remain here to be insulted by your brother."
The Princess followed him from the room. Cecil and Andrew were
alone.
"D--n you, Andrew!" the former said, turning upon him, whitefaced,
and with a sort of petulant anger. "Why do you come here and spoil
things like this?"
Andrew stood upon the hearthrug, and looked at his brother, black
and forbidding.
"Cecil," he said, "my life has been spoilt by paying for your
excesses. Ever since I came of age I have been hampered all the time
by paying your debts and providing you with money. I even let you
pose here as the master of the Red Hall because it pleased you. I
have had enough of it. If you run up any more debts, you must pay
them yourself. I am master here and I intend to remain so."
Cecil was suddenly pale.
"Do you mean," he asked, "that you intend to remain here now?"
Andrew hesitated.
"Your guests are leaving," he said. "Why not?"
"But they may not go until to-morrow or the next day," Cecil said.
"I cannot turn them out."
Andrew stood for a moment looking thoughtfully at the door.
"They cannot stay more than a day," he said, "if Major Forrest is
really their friend. In any case, I shall not return until they are
gone."
Cecil's face cleared a little, but he was still perplexed.
"They had just promised," he said, "to stay another week."
"If you wish to entertain the Princess and Miss Le Mesurier," Andrew
said, "and they are willing to stop after what has passed, I have
nothing, of course, to say against it. But the man Forrest I will
not have here. If ever cheat and coward were written in a man's
face, your friend carries the marks in his."
"He has won nothing to speak of from me here," Cecil declared.
"You are probably too small game," Andrew answered. "How about
Engleton? Did he lose?"
"I am not sure," Cecil answered. "Not very much, if anything."
The Princess came rustling back. She held her little spaniel up to
her cheek, and she affected not to notice the somewhat strained
attitude of the two men. She went at once to Andrew.
"Mr. De la Borne," she said, "I think that you have been very unjust
and very rude to Major Forrest, who is an old friend of mine. I am
sure that you have been misled, and I am sure that some day you will
ask his pardon."
Andrew bowed slightly, and looked her straight in the face.
"Princess," he said, "may I ask how long you have known the
gentleman who has just left us?"
"For a very great many years," she answered. "Why?"
"Are you sure of your own knowledge," Andrew asked, "that he is
really a person of good repute and against whom there have been no
scandalous reports?"
"I do not listen to gossip," the Princess answered. "Major Forrest
goes everywhere in London, and I have seen nothing in his deportment
at any time to induce me to withdraw my friendship."
"I fancy, then," Andrew said, "that some day you will find you have
been a little deceived."
"What about Lord Ronald?" the Princess asked. "Perhaps, Mr. De la
Borne, you think that we are all a little company of adventurers.
This is such a likely spot for our operations, isn't it?"
"Lord Ronald," Andrew said, "is the brother of my old friend, and he
is, of course, above suspicion, but Lord Ronald appears to have left
you somewhat abruptly, I might almost say mysteriously."
"He was here for some time," the Princess said, "and he is coming
back."
"In the meantime," Andrew continued, "he appears to have vanished
from the face of the earth."
The Princess turned away carelessly.
"That," she said, "is scarcely our affair. I have not the slightest
doubt but that he will turn up again."
"If it should turn out that I am mistaken," Andrew said stiffly, "I
should be glad to ask your pardons, but from my present information
I can only say I do not care to extend the hospitality of my house
to Major Forrest, nor do I consider him a fit associate, madam, for
you and your step-daughter."
"May I ask," the Princess inquired, "who Major Forrest's traducers
have been?"
"My information," Andrew answered, "comes from the Duke of
Westerham. I have every reason to believe that the case against him
has been understated."
"The Duke," Cecil declared, "is a pig-headed old fool!"
Andrew shrugged his shoulders.
"I have always found him a man of remarkably keen judgment," he
said.
"What are you going to do about Jeanne?" the Princess asked,
changing the subject abruptly.
"I should suggest," Andrew answered, "that you have a maid pack a
bag and prepare to go with me over to the island early in the
morning. There is no chance to cross before then, as the tide would
be high."
"But how nervous she will be there all alone!" the Princess
exclaimed.
"My servant is there," Andrew answered, "and also an old woman who
cooks for me. They will, I am sure, do everything they can to make
her comfortable. I shall go myself and bring her back here as soon
as it is daylight."
"We are giving you a great deal of trouble, I am afraid, Mr. De la
Borne," the Princess said stiffly. "To-morrow, as soon as my maid
can pack, we will return to London."
Andrew bowed as he turned to leave the room.
"I trust," he said, "that you will not let my presence interfere
with your plans. I shall remain on the island myself to-morrow,
after I have brought your daughter back."
CHAPTER XX
Jeanne awoke the next morning to find herself between lavender
scented sheets in a small iron bedstead, with a soft sea-wind
blowing in through the half-open window. Her maid was ready to wait
upon her, and her bath was of salt water fresh from the sea. She
descended to find Andrew at work in the garden, the sun already high
in the heavens, and the sea as blue and placid as though the storm
of the night before were a thing long past and forgotten.
"I am never going away," she declared, as they sat at breakfast. "I
take your rooms, Monsieur Andrew. I will import as many chaperons as
you please, but I will not leave this island."
"I am afraid," he answered smiling, "that there are other people who
would have something to say about that. Your stepmother is already
anxious. I have promised that you shall be back at the Hall by ten
o'clock."
The gaiety suddenly faded from her face. Her lips, which had been
curved in laughter, quivered.
"You mean that?" she faltered.
"Most assuredly," he answered. "I have no place for lodgers here. As
a matter of fact, if you knew the truth, you would admit that your
staying here is quite impossible."
"Well," she said, "I should like to know the truth. Suppose you tell
it me."
"I must confess, then," Andrew answered, "that I am somewhat of a
fraud. Berners was my friend, not my lodger, and I am Andrew de la
Borne, Cecil's elder brother."
She looked at him for several moments steadily.
"I think that you might have told me," was all she said.
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Why?" he asked, a little brusquely. "I am not of your world, or
your stepmother's. When Cecil told me that he had invited some of
his fashionable friends down here to stay, I begged him to leave me
out of it. I chose to retire here, and I preferred not to see any of
you. Mine are country ways, Miss Le Mesurier. I am at heart what I
pretended to be, fisherman, countryman, yokel, call me what you
will. The other side of life, Cecil's side, doesn't appeal to me a
bit. I felt that it would be more comfortable for you people and for
me, if I kept out of the way."
"You class me with them," she remarked quietly, "a little
ruthlessly. I think you forget that as yet I have not chosen my way
in life."
"That is true," he answered, "but how can you help but choose what
every one of those who call themselves your friends regards as
inevitable. You must dance in many ballrooms, and make your bow
before the great ones of the earth. It is a part of the penalty that
you must pay for your name and riches. All that I can wish you is
that you lose as little of yourself as possible in the days that lie
before you."
"I thank you," she answered quietly. "You will let me know when you
are ready to take me back."
"Have I offended you?" he asked, as they rose from the table. "I am
clumsy, I know, and the words do not come readily to my mouth. But
after all, you must understand."
"Yes," she said sadly, "I do understand."
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