The Haunted Hotel: A Mystery of Modern Venice

  CHAPTER XIII

  In the spring of the year 1861, Agnes was established at thecountry-seat of her two friends--now promoted (on the death of thefirst lord, without offspring) to be the new Lord and Lady Montbarry.The old nurse was not separated from her mistress. A place, suited toher time of life, had been found for her in the pleasant Irishhousehold. She was perfectly happy in her new sphere; and she spenther first half-year's dividend from the Venice Hotel Company, withcharacteristic prodigality, in presents for the children.

  Early in the year, also, the Directors of the life insurance officessubmitted to circumstances, and paid the ten thousand pounds.Immediately afterwards, the widow of the first Lord Montbarry(otherwise, the dowager Lady Montbarry) left England, with Baron Rivar,for the United States. The Baron's object was announced, in thescientific columns of the newspapers, to be investigation into thepresent state of experimental chemistry in the great American republic.His sister informed inquiring friends that she accompanied him, in thehope of finding consolation in change of scene after the bereavementthat had fallen on her. Hearing this news from Henry Westwick (thenpaying a visit at his brother's house), Agnes was conscious of acertain sense of relief. 'With the Atlantic between us,' she said,'surely I have done with that terrible woman now!'

  Barely a week passed after those words had been spoken, before an eventhappened which reminded Agnes of 'the terrible woman' once more.

  On that day, Henry's engagements had obliged him to return to London.He had ventured, on the morning of his departure, to press his suitonce more on Agnes; and the children, as he had anticipated, proved tobe innocent obstacles in the way of his success. On the other hand, hehad privately secured a firm ally in his sister-in-law. 'Have a littlepatience,' the new Lady Montbarry had said, 'and leave me to turn theinfluence of the children in the right direction. If they can persuadeher to listen to you--they shall!'

  The two ladies had accompanied Henry, and some other guests who wentaway at the same time, to the railway station, and had just driven backto the house, when the servant announced that 'a person of the name ofRolland was waiting to see her ladyship.'

  'Is it a woman?'

  'Yes, my lady.'

  Young Lady Montbarry turned to Agnes.

  'This is the very person,' she said, 'whom your lawyer thought likelyto help him, when he was trying to trace the lost courier.'

  'You don't mean the English maid who was with Lady Montbarry at Venice?'

  'My dear! don't speak of Montbarry's horrid widow by the name which ismy name now. Stephen and I have arranged to call her by her foreigntitle, before she was married. I am "Lady Montbarry," and she is "theCountess." In that way there will be no confusion.--Yes, Mrs. Rollandwas in my service before she became the Countess's maid. She was aperfectly trustworthy person, with one defect that obliged me to sendher away--a sullen temper which led to perpetual complaints of her inthe servants' hall. Would you like to see her?'

  Agnes accepted the proposal, in the faint hope of getting someinformation for the courier's wife. The complete defeat of everyattempt to trace the lost man had been accepted as final by Mrs.Ferrari. She had deliberately arrayed herself in widow's mourning; andwas earning her livelihood in an employment which the unweariedkindness of Agnes had procured for her in London. The last chance ofpenetrating the mystery of Ferrari's disappearance seemed to rest nowon what Ferrari's former fellow-servant might be able to tell. Withhighly-wrought expectations, Agnes followed her friend into the room inwhich Mrs. Rolland was waiting.

  A tall bony woman, in the autumn of life, with sunken eyes andiron-grey hair, rose stiffly from her chair, and saluted the ladieswith stern submission as they opened the door. A person of unblemishedcharacter, evidently--but not without visible drawbacks. Big bushyeyebrows, an awfully deep and solemn voice, a harsh unbending manner, acomplete absence in her figure of the undulating lines characteristicof the sex, presented Virtue in this excellent person under its leastalluring aspect. Strangers, on a first introduction to her, wereaccustomed to wonder why she was not a man.

  'Are you pretty well, Mrs. Rolland?'

  'I am as well as I can expect to be, my lady, at my time of life.'

  'Is there anything I can do for you?'

  'Your ladyship can do me a great favour, if you will please speak to mycharacter while I was in your service. I am offered a place, to waiton an invalid lady who has lately come to live in this neighbourhood.'

  'Ah, yes--I have heard of her. A Mrs. Carbury, with a very prettyniece I am told. But, Mrs. Rolland, you left my service some time ago.Mrs. Carbury will surely expect you to refer to the last mistress bywhom you were employed.'

  A flash of virtuous indignation irradiated Mrs. Rolland's sunken eyes.She coughed before she answered, as if her 'last mistress' stuck in herthroat.

  'I have explained to Mrs. Carbury, my lady, that the person I lastserved--I really cannot give her her title in your ladyship'spresence!--has left England for America. Mrs. Carbury knows that Iquitted the person of my own free will, and knows why, and approves ofmy conduct so far. A word from your ladyship will be amply sufficientto get me the situation.'

  'Very well, Mrs. Rolland, I have no objection to be your reference,under the circumstances. Mrs. Carbury will find me at home to-morrowuntil two o'clock.'

  'Mrs. Carbury is not well enough to leave the house, my lady. Herniece, Miss Haldane, will call and make the inquiries, if your ladyshiphas no objection.'

  'I have not the least objection. The pretty niece carries her ownwelcome with her. Wait a minute, Mrs. Rolland. This lady is MissLockwood--my husband's cousin, and my friend. She is anxious to speakto you about the courier who was in the late Lord Montbarry's serviceat Venice.'

  Mrs. Rolland's bushy eyebrows frowned in stern disapproval of the newtopic of conversation. 'I regret to hear it, my lady,' was all shesaid.

  'Perhaps you have not been informed of what happened after you leftVenice?' Agnes ventured to add. 'Ferrari left the palace secretly;and he has never been heard of since.'

  Mrs. Rolland mysteriously closed her eyes--as if to exclude some visionof the lost courier which was of a nature to disturb a respectablewoman. 'Nothing that Mr. Ferrari could do would surprise me,' shereplied in her deepest bass tones.

  'You speak rather harshly of him,' said Agnes.

  Mrs. Rolland suddenly opened her eyes again. 'I speak harshly ofnobody without reason,' she said. 'Mr. Ferrari behaved to me, MissLockwood, as no man living has ever behaved--before or since.'

  'What did he do?'

  Mrs. Rolland answered, with a stony stare of horror:-- 'He tookliberties with me.'

  Young Lady Montbarry suddenly turned aside, and put her handkerchiefover her mouth in convulsions of suppressed laughter.

  Mrs. Rolland went on, with a grim enjoyment of the bewilderment whichher reply had produced in Agnes: 'And when I insisted on an apology,Miss, he had the audacity to say that the life at the palace was dull,and he didn't know how else to amuse himself!'

  'I am afraid I have hardly made myself understood,' said Agnes. 'I amnot speaking to you out of any interest in Ferrari. Are you aware thathe is married?'

  'I pity his wife,' said Mrs. Rolland.

  'She is naturally in great grief about him,' Agnes proceeded.

  'She ought to thank God she is rid of him,' Mrs. Rolland interposed.

  Agnes still persisted. 'I have known Mrs. Ferrari from her childhood,and I am sincerely anxious to help her in this matter. Did you noticeanything, while you were at Venice, that would account for herhusband's extraordinary disappearance? On what sort of terms, forinstance, did he live with his master and mistress?'

  'On terms of familiarity with his mistress,' said Mrs. Rolland, 'whichwere simply sickening to a respectable English servant. She used toencourage him to talk to her about all his affairs--how he got on withhis wife, and how pressed he was for money, and such like--just as ifthey were equals. Contemptible--that's what I call it.'

  'And his master?' Agnes co
ntinued. 'How did Ferrari get on with LordMontbarry?'

  'My lord used to live shut up with his studies and his sorrows,' Mrs.Rolland answered, with a hard solemnity expressive of respect for hislordship's memory. 'Mr. Ferrari got his money when it was due; and hecared for nothing else. "If I could afford it, I would leave the placetoo; but I can't afford it." Those were the last words he said to me,on the morning when I left the palace. I made no reply. After whathad happened (on that other occasion) I was naturally not on speakingterms with Mr. Ferrari.'

  'Can you really tell me nothing which will throw any light on thismatter?'

  'Nothing,' said Mrs. Rolland, with an undisguised relish of thedisappointment that she was inflicting.

  'There was another member of the family at Venice,' Agnes resumed,determined to sift the question to the bottom while she had the chance.'There was Baron Rivar.'

  Mrs. Rolland lifted her large hands, covered with rusty black gloves,in mute protest against the introduction of Baron Rivar as a subject ofinquiry. 'Are you aware, Miss,' she began, 'that I left my place inconsequence of what I observed--?'

  Agnes stopped her there. 'I only wanted to ask,' she explained, 'ifanything was said or done by Baron Rivar which might account forFerrari's strange conduct.'

  'Nothing that I know of,' said Mrs. Rolland. 'The Baron and Mr.Ferrari (if I may use such an expression) were "birds of a feather," sofar as I could see--I mean, one was as unprincipled as the other. I ama just woman; and I will give you an example. Only the day before Ileft, I heard the Baron say (through the open door of his room while Iwas passing along the corridor), "Ferrari, I want a thousand pounds.What would you do for a thousand pounds?" And I heard Mr. Ferrarianswer, "Anything, sir, as long as I was not found out." And then theyboth burst out laughing. I heard no more than that. Judge foryourself, Miss.'

  Agnes reflected for a moment. A thousand pounds was the sum that hadbeen sent to Mrs. Ferrari in the anonymous letter. Was that enclosurein any way connected, as a result, with the conversation between theBaron and Ferrari? It was useless to press any more inquiries on Mrs.Rolland. She could give no further information which was of theslightest importance to the object in view. There was no alternativebut to grant her dismissal. One more effort had been made to find atrace of the lost man, and once again the effort had failed.