A Son of Ishmael: A Novel

The honeymoon was over; the four weeks all of pure gold had come slowly but surely to an end. Nancy had forgotten much during this time. The look of trouble, of anxiety, had absolutely left her face: it bloomed into greater and greater beauty in the new atmosphere. Rowton, too, appeared to be a different man. A great deal of his harshness and roughness had left him. He could be polished when he chose. In the early days of his life he had only associated with gentlemen; he was of good birth, and his natural breeding quickly re-asserted itself.

“You are just like a tamed lion,” Nance was fond of saying to him. “You are so gentle to me; so courteous and kind to everyone, but I know——”

“What do you know, sweet wife?” he said, clasping her round her slender waist and looking into her deep, beautiful eyes; “you must not get to know me too well, Nancy; be satisfied with the surface of me, and do not penetrate too deep.”

“Ah!” she said smiling, “you will run yourself down; but I know the deepest and the best of you. I leave the shallow part to strangers.”

“You were going to make a remark about the lion,” he said, patting her soft hand; “so you really think I am a roaring lion, my darling?”

“You never roar to me,” she answered; “but that you can roar I am firmly convinced.”

“Capital,” he said with a great laugh; “well, Nancy, I hope it will never be your fate to hear one of my manifestations. Child, we go back to England to-morrow; are you glad or sorry?”

“Glad,” she replied. “I was intensely happy on our honeymoon; oh! what lovely places we have seen; how grand and magnificent the world is! It has been sunshine inside and out ever since I gave myself to you.”

“And yet you want to leave it all and to go home,” he said.

“I do. I love you so much that to see you at home must be the best of all; to live with you at home must be the sweetest of all.”

“You are mistaken,” he said, but he said it low, and the inaudible words never reached his lips.

“Pack, child, now,” he said. “Our wearisome journey begins to-morrow.”

A day or two later, the Rowtons arrived at Rowton Heights in Yorkshire. Nancy had never been in this part of the country, and her excitement and delight reached the utmost bounds as they approached nearer and nearer to their destination.

“You must tell me all about the place?” she said when they drove in through the gates of the long winding avenue.

“Oh! what are all those people doing?” she exclaimed suddenly; “they have torches and they are coming to meet us.”

“Some of the tenants on the estate, I presume,” said Rowton. “I expect Maberly, my steward, has been getting up a little display. Never mind, Nancy, it is in your honour.”

“In mine,” she said in astonishment; “how very sweet of them!”

“I never told you, darling,” said her husband, “that in your own house amongst your servants and our tenantry, you will take the position of a great lady.”

“I! a great lady!” she said; “I! poor little starved Nance of the Grange.”

“But starved no longer, and the Grange may well now be forgotten,” he said. “I told you that I was rich, did I not?”

“Yes. Have you not proved it?” she said; “why, you are made of money; I never heard of anyone throwing money away so lavishly.”

“Goodness, child! you know nothing of what really wealthy men can do. Understand once for all, Nance, that I am rich, I am very rich. It is my pleasure to give you everything that money can buy. I want to make your life one long dream of happiness.”

“You are doing so,” she said; “but I think in one way you make a mistake,” she added.

“How?” he asked, surprised at her tone.

“You think that I want such a lot of money, Adrian. In that sense you do not really know me. I like pretty dresses, but not too many; I like pretty jewels, but not too many again; I like the soft things of life, but a little of them contents me.”

“Then I am not making you happy,” he said in alarm.

“Yes, yes,” she answered: “but not because of these things. You make me happy because you love me, because you fill my heart with love, because you give me your sweetest and your best in the way of love, and because I give you all the love of my heart.”

“Sweetheart, you are adorable,” he said, catching her hand and squeezing it. “You must accept the wealth and the responsibility it brings, even if you do not care for it, Nance, for it is my lot, my portion in life, to have more money than I know what to do with. Now, here we are. Come, let me introduce you to my housekeeper, to the servants. Put on the airs of a grande dame, pretty Nance.”

She was tall, and very slender. Her neck was somewhat long and her head was set on it with perfect grace. Rowton watched her as she held that small queenly head high; his heart glowed with admiration and love.

“She would fill any position,” he said to himself. “Could that curmudgeon, her father, see her now, would he know her, my beautiful, lovely darling? Ah! I cannot corrupt a heart like hers; she wants a little wealth, and a few pretty dresses, and a few jewels forsooth, and—love, love, love for everything else. Will she always remain like that? Heaven grant it.”

Meanwhile the steward, Maberly, had come up, and Mrs. Ferguson, the housekeeper, had presented a bunch of keys to Nance. Instructed by her husband she gave them back again to the good woman, telling her in a sweet voice that she knew far better what to do with them than she did. A long string of servants, all neatly attired, with white satin rosettes pinned on to their dresses, gave deep curtsies as Nance and her husband walked down the great hall through their midst.

“Take Mrs. Rowton to her bedroom at once,” said Rowton, addressing the housekeeper; “see that she has everything she wants. Have you engaged a good maid for her?”

“Yes, sir, a thoroughly experienced girl. She is from the village, but was trained in London for a couple of years. I have her for a month on trial. Come here, Hester, and let me introduce you to your new mistress.”

“I am glad to see you, Hester,” said Nancy in her cordial voice.

The girl, a small, dark-eyed lass, dropped a low curtsey; she had keen eyes and they fell all over Mrs. Rowton’s beautiful travelling dress.

“Run upstairs at once, Hester,” said Mrs. Ferguson, the housekeeper; “see that the trunks are taken up and begin to attend to your duties; go, girl, don’t stare.”

Hester coloured crimson, fixed her eyes again with a look half of admiration, half of something else, which Nance did not quite understand, on her face, and turned to obey.

“I hope you’ll like her, ma’am,” said the housekeeper as she followed more slowly with her mistress.

“Oh! yes, she seems a nice girl,” said Nance; “but I have not been accustomed to a maid, and I do not really know what to do with one.”

Mrs. Ferguson looked puzzled. She knew nothing whatever with regard to the bride whom Rowton was bringing home. Had he really by any possibility married beneath him?

But one glance at Nancy’s lovely face dispelled this illusion. The sweet face stole straight down to the old woman’s heart.

“If Hester does not quite please you, ma’am, you’ll be sure to tell me,” she said; “but she seems a clever girl, and particularly good at doing hair.”

“I have always arranged my own hair,” said Nance; “but I suppose if it is necessary I must submit.” She sighed a little as she spoke. The next moment her sigh was changed for an exclamation of delight.

“What a lovely bedroom!” she said. “Is this for me?”

“I am heartily glad you are pleased, ma’am,” said the housekeeper. “Mr. Rowton gave instructions that this room was to be completely re-furnished. He chose those rose-coloured silk curtains himself; they came from London only two days ago. I hope you’ll like the whole arrangement. I must say the room does look cheerful. This is your dressing-room, and your boudoir is just beyond; these stairs lead to Mr. Rowton’s dressing-room, and this is the door of the bathroom. This complete suite is shut away by these curtains and door.”

“It is quite a little house to itself,” said Nance; “it certainly does look perfect.”

“Well, I am pleased,” said the housekeeper. “I’ll leave you now, ma’am. I see Hester is waiting to attend on you.”

Nance, who was standing in a dream of delight in the middle of the lovely room, looked up at these words and encountered the dark gaze of her new maid.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“The trunks are in your dressing-room, ma’am,” said the girl, “and I am waiting for your keys, please.”

Nancy pulled them out of her pocket.

“Perhaps you will kindly tell me in which trunk your evening dresses are, ma’am?”

“I really cannot say,” began Nancy; then she paused to consider for a moment. “Oh! I know,” she said, “there is a very pretty evening dress which I can wear to-night—grey silk—in the large basket trunk with the arched roof.”

“I’ll have everything ready for you, ma’am, in less than a quarter of an hour,” said the girl. She withdrew as she spoke, closing the door of the bedroom behind her.

Nance went up to where a fire burned merrily in a grate, which was bright with brass and ornamental with lovely tiles, and stood warming her feet. The paper on the walls was of the faintest tone of rose; the mantelpiece of the purest white marble; the overmantel and all the furniture were ivory white mounted in brass; the window curtains and the bed hangings were of the softest shade of rose silk; no more lovely room could be imagined, and Nance, as she turned to survey her slender image in the many mirrors which were inserted in the walls, could not sufficiently give voice to her admiration. Her husband came in while she was examining the room.

“Ah!” he said, “I see the London people have done exactly what I told them. Well, Nance, what do you think of our bedroom?”

“Perfect,” she answered; “I never want to leave it.”

“Heaven forbid!” he cried; “that would mean that you were ill, which would never do. I am glad you like this room, but wait until you see the rest of the house.”

“I am almost too happy,” said the girl, and she breathed a sigh, the depth of which nearly reached the point of pain.

“What, because you have got a pretty room, little one?” he replied.

He kissed her and went off to his dressing-room, whistling as he went.

Hester came to summon Nance, and in a few moments the young wife found herself divested of her travelling things, her hair rearranged in the most becoming style, and her evening dress put on. She scarcely knew herself when she was arrayed for the evening, without having lifted a finger on her own behalf.

“After all a maid is a comfort when one is dead tired,” she could not help thinking. Her instinct was to pick up and put by her own things, but Hester, who seemed to divine her intention, swept them out of sight with an almost peremptory gesture.

“You may be sure I’ll do my best to try and please you, ma’am,” she said in a soft voice.

Nance murmured her thanks and went downstairs.

“She is a chit of a thing,” muttered the girl when her mistress had turned her back. “I can twist her round my little finger, particularly when I make use of some very private information, which will considerably alter the complexion of things for pretty Mrs. Rowton, or I am greatly mistaken.”