Torwood's trust

ow, Phil, at last we have got you to ourselves—I thought we never should do it. Oh, there is such a lot to say, I don’t know where to begin!’

This was Maud’s exclamation as, after some skilful manœuvring, she escaped with Tor into the twilight stillness of the quiet garden, where in a secluded summer-house Mrs. Lorraine, the sweet-faced Aunt Olive, was sitting as if waiting for them.

Tor had hardly heard the gentle voice of the widow in the confusion of many tongues at the dinner-table, but her face had attracted him; and when Maud pulled him forward, exclaiming: ‘Now, kiss Aunt Olive—kiss her as often as you like, for she’s the sweetest, dearest aunt in all the world!’ then Tor stepped forward and did her bidding willingly, feeling wonderfully little ashamed of the deception he was practising upon two confiding women, and growing marvellously contented with his present position.

‘My dear Philip, my own poor Maud’s darling boy!’ murmured Aunt Olive tenderly. ‘I can hardly believe you are the little Philip who went away eighteen years ago. You were so like your father then, and your mother too, and now I cannot see a trace of either.’

‘He is like nobody but himself, and I am glad of it!’ cried Maud, leaning against his shoulder as he sat beside Aunt Olive, and caressing his curly head. ‘He is just my own dear, darling Phil! Oh, Phil, we will have good times now you have come back!’

‘We will so!’ answered Tor emphatically; ‘and if I find upon inquiry that that precious uncle of ours has been making himself disagreeable to you in my absence, I shall speak my mind to him candidly and freely.’

Aunt Olive clasped her wrinkled hands together and looked anxious. Maud laughed triumphantly.

‘Oh, Phil, you can’t think what a comfort it is to hear somebody talk like that; to feel that there is some one who dares speak out!’

‘Dares?’ he echoed, lifting his eyebrows. ‘Do you mean you are all afraid of him?’

‘I think most people are,’ admitted Maud frankly. ‘And then there is Aunt Celia, you know, and she is as bad every bit; and what with the two of them, one feels quite helpless.’

‘You need not feel that any more,’ answered Tor, with a short laugh. ‘I’ll pretty soon settle the pair of them if they dare to annoy you any more.’

‘Oh, Phil, you’re a real angel boy!’ cried Maud with enthusiasm. ‘Oh, Aunt Olive, isn’t it splendid to hear him talk? You told me he would not dare to defy Uncle Belassis. You said papa and mamma were timid, and all the Debenhams, and that Phil would not be so bold; but you’re quite wrong, aunty—quite wrong.’

‘Yes, my dear; I suppose travelling about the world does a great deal to make people brave. And I am very glad dear Philip is not afraid of your uncle, for I should not wonder—I mean, you know all the money matters—I mean, well, what shall I say? You know, I think everything ought to be looked into well; and your uncle, he does not like that kind of thing very much.’

‘So my respected uncle is a scoundrel, is he?’ quoth Tor coolly. ‘That is the plain English of what you were saying, is it not?’

‘Oh, my dear boy, you must not use such words!’ cried the little widow nervously. ‘Suppose he were to hear!’

‘It’s my private opinion he will hear uncommonly soon,’ was the careless reply. ‘What is there to be afraid of? I think I am equal to the task of speaking my mind, if what you say is true.’

‘But, dear boy, I said nothing—I know nothing. I don’t understand business, and your uncle is a lawyer, you know, and knows everything,’ replied Aunt Olive, with timid haste. ‘It may be all right; how can I tell? I dare say everything is just as it should be. Only, of course, it is always better that things should be looked into by somebody else from time to time.’

Tor smiled a quiet assent, and did not pursue the subject further.

‘Oh, Phil!’ cried Maud, breaking in eagerly with a new subject, ‘you will stay with us for good now that you’ve come home, won’t you? You will live at Ladywell Manor—it is such a lovely old place! and you will let me live there with you, and Aunt Olive too, to keep house for you and take care of you? Oh, do take us away from this horrid house! You will, won’t you, Phil? like a dear, darling boy!’

‘My first step will be to establish you there as mistress of the house, with Aunt Olive as your companion,’ answered Tor readily, knowing well what would be Phil’s wishes on the subject. ‘You shall be lady of the Manor, Maud, and the whole establishment will be under your sway; and if anybody dares to interfere with you, or even to criticize you—just let me know.’

‘But you will be there too, Phil,’ said Maud, whose face had first expressed ecstatic delight, and then a momentary dismay. ‘You will live at Ladywell yourself now?’

He laughed lightly, and gave his strong frame a little shake.

‘I shall be there a great deal, no doubt. Business is business, and must be attended to. But you must remember the kind of life I have been leading for the past ten years, little sister, and not expect me to jog down into harness all in a moment. You must give me time, and let me break myself gradually of my roving habits. No doubt in time I shall settle down into a model country squire; but just at first you must not be surprised if I come and go like the Flying Dutchman, a wanderer from force of habit. But you may be quite sure that if you and Aunt Olive are established at Ladywell Manor, my visits there will not be very few nor far between.’

With that Maud had to be content, and indeed it was not difficult, for the idea of becoming the reigning power in Ladywell Manor was in itself like a dream of joy.

‘Oh, Phil, you are a darling! Shall I really be free from Uncle Belassis and Aunt Celia? Shall I really be my own mistress? It seems too good to be true!’

‘You shall be as fine a lady as you choose, and free from the whole crew of them. I don’t think any of them will care to offend you then.’

Maud laughed a laugh of pure happiness.

‘It’s like a dream or a fairy-tale, isn’t it, Aunt Olive? Fancy us two living in independence and luxury at Ladywell, and with only Phil to bully us! Oh, Phil, it’s such a lovely old place! To-morrow I must take you to see it. You will so like it. I do want to show it to you.’

‘To-morrow I expect I shall be given over to business and my respected uncle. Why not take me there to-night, Maud? It’s as light as day, now that the moon is up. It isn’t far, is it?’

‘Only a mile by the footpath through the park—two by the road. Oh, it would be lovely to go to-night! It would look splendid by this light;’ and Maud clasped her hands round his arm closely. ‘But I don’t know if Aunt Celia would let me go.’

Tor shrugged his shoulders, and laughed carelessly.

‘We won’t trouble to consult her as to our movements. Run and get your hat, Maud. I’ll settle Aunt Celia when we get back.’

With a delightful sense of independence, not to say defiance, Maud ran off to do his bidding.

‘My dear boy,’ said little Mrs. Lorraine, when her niece was gone, ‘you must be careful with your sister. She is very high-spirited, and a very little encouragement would make her rebel against all authority; and your uncle and aunt are not used to being opposed.’

‘So it would appear,’ answered Tor. ‘It is an experience they have yet to learn; and so far as I am able to judge, it will do them a world of good to find they cannot have everything their own way.’

‘Well, Philip dear, I dare say you are quite right. People do get sadly overbearing when there is nobody to oppose them; though I must not say anything against your uncle, for he has been very kind to me.’

‘Kind!’ ejaculated Tor. ‘A queer sort of kindness, by all accounts.’

‘And family quarrels are sad things, dear boy, at best, and often lead to much mischief, which nothing can cure.’

‘I will be cautious. I will do nothing rash,’ answered Tor, his thoughts wandering to the Phil whose duties he had assumed. He saw at once the danger of starting a quarrel, which he might be able to sustain with success, but which might involve his more gentle-spirited friend in much difficulty when he assumed the reins of government. ‘I have no love of disputes. You may be sure I shall not embroil myself needlessly.’

Mrs. Lorraine’s face put on a look of approval and relief.

‘You are a dear boy, Phil. You are like a tower of strength amongst us.’

Maud now came tripping back, begging Phil to make haste and escape with her, because she fancied some of her cousins were coming in search of them. Three minutes later they were beyond the precincts of Thornton House; they had crossed the narrow lane that divided the two properties, and had plunged into the deep shadows of the wooded park which surrounded Ladywell Manor.

‘Now, Phil,’ cried Maud triumphantly, ‘you are standing on your own ground—your very own! What does it feel like to be a landed proprietor?’

‘Makes one feel a foot and a half taller, at the least! What a lovely night for a walk, Maud—the moonlight and the shadows and the dew upon the grass! I don’t remember the Manor a bit, Maud. Were we often there as children?’

‘No, hardly ever. We used to play in the park sometimes, but I don’t know that we ever went to the house when we were little. Since we have been grown up, we have been sometimes to call on old Uncle Maynard—I and my cousins, I mean. I dare say you never were there at all.’

‘No? Well, I certainly don’t remember it. But old Maynard must have been very proud of the place. I hear he has stipulated that not less than a thousand a year is to be spent in keeping up the establishment in the way in which he kept it up. I suppose he was afraid that my roving habits would be too strong for me, and induce me to shut up the house and leave it to decay. Any way, he has provided against any such intention by his will; and whether or not I live there, the gardens and the house will be kept up in style, horses in the stables and servants about the place. You, Maud, as lady of the Manor, will reap the advantage of the arrangement.’

Tor had been informed by his uncle, at dessert, of this proviso in the will, and he had been much relieved to hear of it. It lessened the uncomfortable sense of responsibility which haunted him at times, when the disposal of Phil’s property was under discussion, and made his way plain in many ways.

Walking in the moonlight, with Maud for his companion, was a very pleasant occupation for Tor. He felt a very warm admiration for Phil’s pretty, lively sister; and her affection towards himself was certainly most agreeable, none the less so from its being unmerited. So far as Maud was concerned, Tor enjoyed the situation vastly. He liked being made the recipient of sisterly confidences, and he felt that during the first struggle for emancipation, which would have to be fought before she quite escaped from the sway of her uncle and aunt, he would make a far better champion in her defence than would the real brother.

So they walked on together in the moonlight, laughing and chattering, until they suddenly emerged from the shelter of the trees, and saw the great house before them, its many large mullioned windows gleaming in the soft radiance of the full moon.

It was a handsome red-brick structure, with a wide terrace running round three sides of it. The fourth, where the servants’ offices lay, was shut off from view by a high wall, now overgrown with glossy ivy, which completely surrounded all the back premises.

The gardens were laid out with great care, and a little later on would be a blaze of colour. The lawns were like velvet, and were shaded by magnificent trees—cedars, yews and graceful conifera. Everything about the place indicated the utmost care, and art had aided nature in making all around particularly beautiful. The house stood well, and the lie of the land around it was peculiarly picturesque. Nothing there was new or raw-looking. The red-brick walls were draped with graceful creepers; the wide terrace and shallow stone steps showed, without any trace of decay, that hundreds of years had passed over them. The look of the trees and shrubs, and the air of the whole place, indicated a calm and solemn antiquity.

‘Isn’t it lovely?’ said Maud softly. ‘Isn’t it a lovely place to have for one’s own?’

‘Very,’ assented Tor, feeling, though only by proxy, a certain pride of possession. ‘There are never such places as this out of England. Can we go into the house?’

‘Oh yes—let us. We must go round to the front. This way, by the terrace. See, isn’t it an imposing frontage?’

It certainly was imposing. A wide carriage-drive made a bold sweep round to the house, passing beneath the terrace, which, on this side, was adorned by statues and an ornamental stone balustrade, whilst two wide flights of steps, one at either extremity, led down from the terrace to the drive.

‘What a lovely road for riding, to say nothing of the turf! Oh, Phil, do you think we shall ever ride together? Shall you be able to keep saddle-horses? Uncle Belassis never would let us ride; but I do so love it: and I know how to, because I have stayed sometimes with Roma, and ridden with her. It would be splendid to ride here with you.’

‘You shall ride to your heart’s content,’ answered Tor, laughing; ‘so will I, when I have got a horse that will carry me. Is this the bell? How astonished the household will be at such untimely visitors.’

The door was opened by a footman in sombre livery, and an ancient-looking butler stood in the background, gazing inquisitively at his visitors.

‘I have brought Mr. Debenham here, Walters,’ said Maud, advancing into the dim, vast hall. ‘We have walked across the park to see the house by moonlight.’

Tor spoke pleasantly to the old servant, and followed his sister into the fine old rooms which were for the present, at least, to be his headquarters. They looked dim and vast in the uncertain light, the shadows very black, and the colours indistinct and ghostly. They could get no adequate light to see the place then, nor did they wish. They were content to rove about the great moonlit rooms, which were not so dark but that they could see how rich were the decorations, and how costly and magnificent was every fitting, picture, or article of furniture.

It was but a cursory visit they paid that night, yet Tor came away with the impression that Phil had come into a very fine property, and that his house was almost worthy the name of a palace.

They walked back quickly through the shadowy park, whilst Maud described to him the beauty of parts he had not seen: the hot-houses, and the great conservatory, and the stable premises, where it was said half a hundred horses had been stabled in olden times, when there was need.

‘If we should not make ourselves too late,’ she said, ‘we would go round by the Lady’s Well, down in a hollow of the park there. It is so pretty, all overgrown with moss and ferns; and the dell is a sweet place. It is a magic well, you know; and if we go at the right time we can have a magic wish. Some day I’ll take you there, and we will have our wishes—though, now that you’ve come back, there doesn’t seem anything left to wish for.’

She slipped her arm within his, and turned her bright face up to him.

‘Kiss me, Phil! You’re not a bit demonstrative; I suppose men aren’t—real men, who aren’t namby-pamby like Lewis; but you’ve not kissed me once, except before them all, when you first came. Kiss me now, in the wood here. I feel as if I should like to hug you!’

Tor, however, evaded any hugging. He bent his head and kissed her quietly, and with a smile that seemed to make up for any more open demonstration; then, feeling the position a little difficult, he hurried her home. Maud’s kisses he found dangerously sweet. He had not realized how sweet they might be. He was not an impressionable man; not what is commonly called a ‘woman’s man,’ and it had never occurred to him that he might be seriously bewitched by Phil’s sister.

It was ten o’clock when the two culprits entered the drawing-room, and found the company looking decidedly bored. They had expected Tor to amuse them during the evening, and had felt aggrieved by his disappearance.

‘We have been across to see Ladywell by moonlight,’ said Tor. ‘It looks quite romantic in that aspect.’

‘You might have let me come too. I love a moonlight walk,’ cried Bertha. ‘You’re always so selfish, Maud.’

‘Phil isn’t your brother,’ returned Maud. ‘I had ever so many things to say to him.’

‘Well, I think he might have stayed with us the first evening,’ said Matilda, with languid raillery. ‘Are we such a dreadfully unendurable family, Phil, that you cannot put up with us for one evening?’

‘It is the fashion now, I believe, for young men to do exactly as they please, without any regard for the wishes of others or the exigencies of society,’ remarked Mrs. Belassis incisively.

Tor laughed; for anyone to laugh after such a remark showed a boldness, not to say a recklessness, which was enough to provoke a shudder of horror.

‘I am afraid my social education has been sadly neglected, my dear aunt, and that ignorance, not fashion, prompted this breach of manners. When a man has been knocking about the world for ten years, with nothing but his own fancy to please, he grows sadly benighted as to the “exigencies of society.” I am afraid I was ignorant that it possessed any.’

‘Ah, indeed! Then you will find yourself in many very unpleasant predicaments before many days are past.’

‘If I can extricate myself as easily as in the present instance, I do not think I need feel appalled,’ answered Tor, taking a seat between his two cousins. ‘Surely I have not sinned past forgiveness? I think I can see signs of relenting already. Shall we seal the peace by making a plan? Shall we all lunch at Ladywell Manor the day after to-morrow? Will you all be my guests, and help at the housewarming? and afterwards we can explore the grounds together at our leisure.’

The cousins brightened up wonderfully at this suggestion. Tor made himself exceedingly agreeable and entertaining during the remainder of the evening; and by the time the ladies retired to their rooms, they were loud in his praises—Mrs. Belassis alone excepted.

‘Philip, my lad, I just want to speak a single word to you to-night,’ said Mr. Belassis, when he found himself alone with his supposed nephew.

‘Certainly, sir; what is it?’

‘It is in reference to dear Maud,’ answered Mr. Belassis, struggling to appear quite at ease, when really not at all comfortable. ‘Are you aware that your father, in opposition to my wishes, made a very extraordinary condition as to the money which Maud has to inherit?’

‘I have not heard exactly what it was—though I have my suspicions,’ answered Tor coldly.

‘It was a very odd will. I advised him repeatedly against it; but he would have it so. He was very fond of my Lewis. He was bent upon the match. He only leaves one-third of the money to Maud, unless she marries my son. I could not persuade him to act otherwise.’

Tor’s lip curled slightly.

‘Very magnanimous of you, sir.’

‘No, no; only just, my boy; only just. Lewis has no claim to the money.’

‘Not the least in the world.’

‘Exactly; but he will have two-thirds, that is £10,000, if Maud, when she attains her majority, declines to marry him. He is ready enough to fulfil his share of the contract. He is devoted to her.’

Tor felt as though he should much like to kick the devoted Lewis.

‘Well, sir, what is your object in opening this subject to-night?’

‘Because, my dear Philip, I can see at a glance that you will obtain great influence over your sister; and I am most anxious that your influence should be so exercised as to lead her to make a wise and right choice when the time comes.’

Tor looked anything but pleasant as this suggestion was thrust upon him.

‘My sister must make her own choice,’ he answered coldly, conscious that he would feel distinctly annoyed if she elected to marry Lewis Belassis.

‘Of course, Philip, of course; the dear girl must be guided by her own feelings: but most likely she will come to you for counsel and advice, when she knows how the matter stands. All I ask you is this—remember how much is involved in all this; remember her interest is to do her father’s will, and use your influence to make her act so that she will not forfeit her fortune.’

Tor took a few paces backwards and forwards in the room.

‘When will she be told?’

‘Very soon now; any time, indeed. You will be a true brother to her, Philip?’

‘Certainly,’ answered Tor, rather haughtily.

‘And you will counsel her to accept my son?’

‘That depends upon circumstances. I can promise nothing. I have yet to learn what manner of man your son is.’