Torwood's trust

aud’s birthday had come at last—the important four-and-twentieth anniversary, which completed her long minority.

She had requested that there should be no great ‘fuss’ upon the day. She did not want any festivities set on foot, or a number of guests to entertain. It would be much more of a treat to her, she said, to have ‘a good long day with Phil;’ and in the evening was the necessary dinner-party, to which the Belassis household was invited, which was to be followed by the reading of Mr. Debenham’s will.

Maud’s decision would be asked at the close, and it was generally understood that her mind was made up, although opinions differed as to what was the decision arrived at.

Mr. and Mrs. Belassis were distinctly anxious, now that the final moment had come. They had terrible misgivings as to the validity of the will which they were about to produce, and could not rid themselves of the ghastly notion, that at the last moment their terrible nephew might coolly produce a later document, and demand instant restitution of the trust-money, principal and interest.

Mrs. Belassis was certain that no formal or public search had been made in the library; but she could have no confidence, until the will was in her own hands, that some evil chance might not discover it to the very people whose knowledge of its existence was most to be deplored.

Increased uneasiness had fallen upon Mrs. Belassis, she hardly knew why, by the knowledge that Miss Marjory Descartes was a guest at Ladywell. Personally she was rather glad of this, for on thinking over the conversation with her husband, she was not entirely satisfied with the explanation he had given her of his connection with Whitbury and she looked forward with a mixture of malice and curiosity to the meeting between them, which she would now witness. Yet some instinct warned her that Miss Marjory’s visit to her nephew boded them no good; and she was made additionally uneasy by the hints dropped by her spy, of the long consultations now going on in the house.

But Mrs. Belassis did not give way to dejection. She felt she had a game offensive as well as defensive to play, and she believed that she would find an able supporter in Signor Pagliadini.

‘Once let this decision be made, and I shall know how to act,’ she said many times to herself. ‘If Maud refuses Lewis, then there is no longer any reason to temporize. I shall worm the truth out of that Italian, and then carry open war into the enemy’s quarters.’

Mr. Belassis was miserable and anxious, but he was not in his wife’s confidence, and he did not know what schemes of vengeance were brewing. He did not know the close proximity of his old friend Miss Marjory Descartes; had he done so, he would have been tenfold more miserable and cowed. His wife, by a little dexterous management, had contrived that the names of the guests at Ladywell should not be mentioned in his hearing, for she was anxious that the meeting with Miss Marjory should take him unawares; besides which, she knew he was quite capable of shamming illness, just to escape the encounter, if it was not to his mind. The more she had thought about his behaviour when first he heard Whitbury named, and the story he had told her of his doings there, the more she grew convinced that she had not been told the whole truth.

Miss Marjory was delighted to think that she should at last be brought face to face with the redoubtable Belassis. She knew all about the theory of the destroyed will, and Mr. Debenham’s impoverished fortunes, and was not at all prepared to spare him. Being a woman of a business-like turn, and one who knew a good deal more than Tor did of the ways of the world, she understood better than he had done, how Belassis had managed to possess himself of Mr. Debenham’s money, and enrich himself at his client’s expense; and she was inclined to think that a lawsuit against him should be set on foot even now.

Tor, however, did not see where the needful evidence was to come from, as Belassis had had the handling of all the papers; moreover, that was a question for the real Phil to consider, not for him to settle; and in this verdict Miss Marjory could not but agree.

‘It’s a sad pity you are not the real master here,’ she said. ‘I believe you are twice the man that Phil of yours will turn out to be. It will be too bad if that old scoundrel gets off scot-free. However, I think I can touch him up a little. I shall certainly lay myself out to be agreeable to him. Mind you put me opposite to him at table. I think I can make the time pass very pleasantly for him.’

Tor was mean enough to feel a sort of amused compassion for Miss Marjory’s prospective victim.

‘You will not let out about the first wife, will you, Miss Marjory?’ he said. ‘I know he deserves everything you can give him; but there will be the wife and family at table, and a dinner-party isn’t quite——’

‘Don’t be so dense, Philip Debenham. I hope I know what to say and what to leave unsaid in a mixed company,’ interrupted Miss Marjory sharply. ‘Do you suppose I want everyone to be covered with confusion? You are just like a man; you think nothing can be said unless it is regularly set down in black and white. Trust me. I will say nothing which anybody else could take exception to. But I’ll just roast Belassis.’

‘I believe you will,’ returned Tor. ‘Well, he’s too big a scoundrel to waste pity on. I hand him over to your tender mercies.’

Miss Marjory smiled.

‘You and I can enjoy it—and he. Nobody else will understand.’ Then, after a pause, she added: ‘Is it only a family party? or are any strangers coming?’

‘I asked the Merediths, and their guest. I saw the old boy expected to be included in a family gathering. He accepted at once, but now his doctor has forbidden him to come, and Roma remains with him; but that Italian fellow holds to his engagement. Odd, isn’t it?—sticking himself into a party where he must know he is not wanted.’

‘Odd and significant,’ answered Miss Marjory thoughtfully. ‘I know that man means mischief.’

‘I half think so, too,’ assented Tor. ‘I have been wondering how I could win him over. He can’t have any very powerful motive for making himself disagreeable to me. Do you think if I asked him to spend a few days at Ladywell, it might bring him to a more amiable frame of mind? As a guest in my house, he could hardly plot against me; and if he could be won over, he might speak out, and in the end be taken into our confidence.’

Miss Marjory considered this new idea.

‘I think it might do,’ she said. ‘I should like to see more of him, and make out what manner of man he is. I am not at all satisfied about him; and I don’t think it would be a bad move to have him here. We could examine him at our leisure, and, as you say, if he has any feelings at all of honour, he will hardly dare to make insinuations against you, whilst partaking of your hospitality.’

This conversation took place early in the day. Half-past seven was the hour fixed for dinner, and soon after seven the guests began to assemble.

Matilda and Bertha were eager to see Maud’s presents, and went into raptures over the costly and elegant trifles which stood upon a table, ‘on view.’

Mr. and Mrs. Belassis had brought a handsome dressing-case, as a sort of peace-offering. It was certainly right for Maud to possess it, as it had been her mother’s once; but she did not know that, and half shrank from accepting anything so costly from people she liked so little.

Tor did not look quite pleased either; but Mrs. Lorraine was equal to the occasion. She recognised the old heirloom—for an heirloom it was, although it had been ‘done up like new,’ in the usual Belassis good taste.

‘Our grandmother’s dressing-case!’ she exclaimed, with a look of pleasure. ‘It was your mother’s too, dear Maud. I have been wondering how it was that it was not restored to you before. I see now that it was waiting for your majority. Ah, the dear old box! We do not see things like it now. It was such a favourite with your mother, Maud.’

And after hearing this, Maud was able to turn and thank Mr. and Mrs. Belassis for their gift, without any embarrassment.

The party was seated, and rather stiff talk was passing between the relatives, who had not met in this friendly fashion for a long time. Suddenly and quietly the door was opened, and Miss Marjory entered, her amber satin, lace, and diamonds giving her an imposing appearance, in spite of her short stature.

Maud thought she looked just like a fairy godmother, with her yellow dress, bright eyes and resolute determined manner.

Mrs. Belassis eyed her curiously, not altogether liking the first impression she received.

Mr. Belassis’ jaw dropped, and the florid colour faded slowly from his face.

Tor advanced and introduced the guest to his aunt and uncle, and Miss Marjory’s bow included the whole party, as she gracefully subsided into a seat, and looked smilingly at the wretched Belassis.

‘Surely we are not strangers to one another, Mr. Belassis. I thought the name was too uncommon to deceive me. A second Alfred Belassis, a contemporary, would be too remarkable a phenomenon. I hope you are quite well?’

‘Quite, thank you,’ muttered Belassis, feeling delightfully conscious that his wife’s eye was upon him.

‘You have not visited Whitbury lately, I think?’ went on Miss Marjory pleasantly.

‘N—no, not lately.’

‘I do not think I have seen you since you were quite a young man; still, I am sure I should know you anywhere.’

People were just beginning to wake up to the consciousness that Mr. Belassis was ill at ease, when the dinner was announced.

Signor Pagliadini had come two minutes earlier, and now offered his arm to Miss Marjory. Tor took in Mrs. Belassis, Mr. Belassis paired off with Maud, and gladly remained behind with her till the rest had gone.

‘I did not know you knew Miss Marjory Descartes. Is she not delightful?’

‘Oh, very!—yes, quite so—delightful! I only knew her a little, and that was ages ago.’

‘She seems to remember you very well,’ said Maud innocently. ‘You must have made a great impression.’

Mr. Belassis coughed and stumbled, as he followed the company downstairs.

Miss Marjory’s tongue did good service in making conversation flow freely at table that day. It was an oddly-assorted company, and an effort was needed before the appropriate air of festivity could be attained.

Mr. and Mrs. Belassis distrusted one another, and were at all but open enmity with their hosts. Signor Pagliadini was a stranger, a foreigner, and a supposed spy. Miss Marjory was just the one woman upon earth Belassis most feared to meet. Lewis was awaiting dismissal at Maud’s hands in the course of the evening. Almost everyone at table had good cause to fear or distrust some one or more of the company; and with all these conflicting elements, it was not easy to make talk run smoothly.

Miss Marjory, however, was not to be daunted by any such trivial difficulties as these, and Tor backed her up boldly. When the ice was once broken, there was not the same necessity for exertion. People began to talk to their neighbours, and a pleasant hum took the place of the first silence, and grew louder as time went on. Miss Marjory felt at liberty to talk to her neighbours, and to amuse herself, now that she had accomplished her more difficult task.

‘You understand English remarkably well, Signor,’ she observed suddenly to her partner. ‘It is very odd that you do not speak it.’

She spoke in English herself; but his answer was in French.

‘Madame flatters me!’

‘Stuff and nonsense! I never flatter anybody. Anyone can see by your face that you can understand every word that passes.’

‘Pardon, Madame——’

‘And what’s more,’ continued Miss Marjory relentlessly, ‘I don’t believe you’re an Italian at all!’

‘Mais, Madame——’

‘Now don’t be affected, and don’t tell me lies. If you don’t choose to speak the truth, you’d better keep quiet. I detest mysteries and heroics! Why can’t you speak out at once, and say who you are, and what you’ve come for?’

Signor Pagliadini looked tremendously taken aback by this sudden and most unexpected attack. He was silent, and the little deprecatory shrug he gave, foreign as it was, produced no impression upon Miss Marjory.

‘I believe he’s an Englishman,’ she said to herself. ‘A foreigner would always have something to say. No Frenchman nor Italian would be shut up like that, nor take an accusation so quietly. Who in the world can he be? Can some family lawyer have got an inkling of the truth, and have sent a spy into the camp? I don’t believe lawyers out of novels do things like that. I wonder if the Belassis party are at the bottom of it? I begin to think they must be. Well, I will make it warm for them if they are troublesome.’

With her most agreeable smile, Miss Marjory now looked across at her opposite neighbour.

‘Have you never paid Whitbury a visit all these past thirty years, Mr. Belassis?’ she asked sweetly. ‘Surely you cannot have forgotten us so utterly as that? You were so enthusiastic about the place when you were there. Have you never been there since?’

‘No—in fact—you see, I had very much to occupy my time;’ and he looked at Miss Marjory with a sort of helpless entreaty, which she was hard-hearted enough to enjoy.

‘You left so suddenly, too, without even making your adieux! There was quite an excitement about your sudden flight and expected return. Nobody dreamed you had gone for good.’

‘There was no particular—reason—why I should return,’ hesitated Belassis, trying to put a bold face upon the matter.’

‘Indeed!’ returned Miss Marjory significantly; ‘I should have thought there was an excellent reason.’

Belassis was silent, and his plate stood before him untouched. What would not that dreadful woman say next? He was ready to wish that the earth would open and swallow him up! The earth, however, as is usual in such cases, showed no disposition to espouse him or his cause.

People had a way of listening when Miss Marjory spoke, and her last observation had been heard by one or two, who seemed idly waiting for what would follow. Miss Marjory was quite equal to the occasion.

‘I fancied, perhaps, you had relatives there,’ she went on carelessly. ‘There is a Belassis living in the town, but it may be another family, of course. He is in trade, and doing a good business.’

Mr. Belassis had turned so yellow that even Miss Marjory thought she had gone far enough. Most likely he knew at once to what family that other Belassis belonged, and it was not to be wondered at if the news gave him a new pang of terror.

‘Must be another family,’ he muttered hoarsely. ‘I’ve no—no—no relations in Yorkshire.’

‘No? Ah, then it is a mere coincidence. Hardly likely to be anything more.’

Having wreaked some of her vengeance upon Belassis, Miss Marjory was able to turn her attention to the foreigner, who had now recovered from his momentary confusion.

It was he who opened the conversation, and he seemed inclined to be aggressive.

‘Madame has done me the honour to doubt my word. Will Madame tell me her reason? Is it merely because I understand English, although I cannot speak it with any fluency? Surely there are many in a like case.’

‘I dare say there are; but I have other reasons for what I said,’ answered Miss Marjory boldly, on the ‘nothing-venture, nothing-have’ principle, going a good deal farther than she had any warrant. ‘I know more about you than you think.’

A look of uneasiness flitted across the young man’s face, which his bland smile did not disguise.

‘Madame is mysterious. May I not hear what it is that you have learned of me?’

‘I’m not sure that you may,’ answered Miss Marjory, wondering how far she had better go.

‘My curiosity is burning,’ he went on in a low eager tone. ‘Madame is cruel to make accusations which she will not substantiate.’

Miss Marjory looked at him sharply.

‘What accusations have I made?’

He hesitated somewhat, and then said:

‘You tell me I am not what I seem to be.’

‘Well, can you look me in the face, and tell me that you are?’

Signor Pagliadini did not even attempt to do this. He merely said:

‘That is a grave charge to bring against a man.’

‘If it comes to that,’ retorted Miss Marjory boldly, ‘I could bring a graver one if I chose.’

‘Will you explain farther?’

‘I am not sure that I will; but I don’t mind telling you that you are playing a risky game, and may get yourself into trouble one of these days.’

‘How so?’

He looked so ill at ease that Miss Marjory felt her attempt to frighten him had been unexpectedly successful.

‘You have come here bent on mischief; you know that as well as I do. You won’t succeed in what you mean to do, and you stand a good chance of finding yourself in a very unpleasant position.’

He gazed at her with an earnestness and anxiety which told her that her words had produced an impression. She had not chosen them with any special care. Her object had been, if possible, to alarm him, and induce him to keep as quiet as he would on the subject of the secret he had discovered. From the expression his face had assumed, she imagined that her random shaft had struck home.

‘He is not very bold,’ she thought. ‘I must make him nervous.’

‘I have not come bent on mischief, Madame,’ he answered gravely, but not timidly. ‘Madame is in error there. I have come to put right a wrong—that is all—to do justice to the helpless and oppressed. If Madame knew all that I do, she would not speak as she now does.’

‘I imagine I know a great deal more than you do, Signor,’ answered Miss Marjory severely; ‘and I am sure I know a great deal more than you think. I know pretty well what idea you have got in your head, and it is entirely wrong. My friend and our host, Mr. Philip Debenham, is the soul of honour. You do not and you cannot understand him. I will give you this assurance, and also this warning. Do not attempt to carry out this plan of yours, for you will never be able to do it. Give it up with a good grace whilst there is yet time, and do not bring upon yourself the ignominy of defeat.’

The dark face looked more dark than ever—more in bewilderment, it seemed, than in anger.

‘Who will defeat me?’ he asked slowly.

‘I will!’ answered Miss Marjory, with all the reckless daring of her nature.

‘You!’ he echoed, looking very hard at her. ‘Why, what can you do?’

‘I can generally do anything I have a mind to,’ answered Miss Marjory significantly. ‘You had better not make an enemy of me.’

He still looked hard at her—as if he would read her very soul.

‘And you are a staunch supporter of—of—our host—of Philip Debenham’s?’

‘I am,’ she answered coolly; ‘and I am as firm a friend as I am an enemy. Any cause I take up generally prospers.’

Maud’s health was now being proposed, and all private conversation had suddenly to be suspended; but when Miss Marjory sailed away with the other ladies into the drawing-room, it was with the comfortable assurance that she had made profitable use of her time, and had given Signor Pagliadini a good scare.

Miss Marjory had enjoyed the dinner-party, if nobody else had.