CHAPTER XXI
Lord and Lady Montbarry were received by the housekeeper; the managerbeing absent for a day or two on business connected with the affairs ofthe hotel.
The rooms reserved for the travellers on the first floor were three innumber; consisting of two bedrooms opening into each other, andcommunicating on the left with a drawing-room. Complete so far, thearrangements proved to be less satisfactory in reference to the thirdbedroom required for Agnes and for the eldest daughter of LordMontbarry, who usually slept with her on their travels. Thebed-chamber on the right of the drawing-room was already occupied by anEnglish widow lady. Other bedchambers at the other end of the corridorwere also let in every case. There was accordingly no alternative butto place at the disposal of Agnes a comfortable room on the secondfloor. Lady Montbarry vainly complained of this separation of one ofthe members of her travelling party from the rest. The housekeeperpolitely hinted that it was impossible for her to ask other travellersto give up their rooms. She could only express her regret, and assureMiss Lockwood that her bed-chamber on the second floor was one of thebest rooms in that part of the hotel.
On the retirement of the housekeeper, Lady Montbarry noticed that Agneshad seated herself apart, feeling apparently no interest in thequestion of the bedrooms. Was she ill? No; she felt a little unnervedby the railway journey, and that was all. Hearing this, Lord Montbarryproposed that she should go out with him, and try the experiment ofhalf an hour's walk in the cool evening air. Agnes gladly accepted thesuggestion. They directed their steps towards the square of St. Mark,so as to enjoy the breeze blowing over the lagoon. It was the firstvisit of Agnes to Venice. The fascination of the wonderful city of thewaters exerted its full influence over her sensitive nature. Theproposed half-hour of the walk had passed away, and was fast expandingto half an hour more, before Lord Montbarry could persuade hiscompanion to remember that dinner was waiting for them. As theyreturned, passing under the colonnade, neither of them noticed a ladyin deep mourning, loitering in the open space of the square. Shestarted as she recognised Agnes walking with the new LordMontbarry--hesitated for a moment--and then followed them, at adiscreet distance, back to the hotel.
Lady Montbarry received Agnes in high spirits--with news of an eventwhich had happened in her absence.
She had not left the hotel more than ten minutes, before a little notein pencil was brought to Lady Montbarry by the housekeeper. The writerproved to be no less a person than the widow lady who occupied the roomon the other side of the drawing-room, which her ladyship had vainlyhoped to secure for Agnes. Writing under the name of Mrs. James, thepolite widow explained that she had heard from the housekeeper of thedisappointment experienced by Lady Montbarry in the matter of therooms. Mrs. James was quite alone; and as long as her bed-chamber wasairy and comfortable, it mattered nothing to her whether she slept onthe first or the second floor of the house. She had accordingly muchpleasure in proposing to change rooms with Miss Lockwood. Her luggagehad already been removed, and Miss Lockwood had only to take possessionof the room (Number 13 A), which was now entirely at her disposal.
'I immediately proposed to see Mrs. James,' Lady Montbarry continued,'and to thank her personally for her extreme kindness. But I wasinformed that she had gone out, without leaving word at what hour shemight be expected to return. I have written a little note of thanks,saying that we hope to have the pleasure of personally expressing oursense of Mrs. James's courtesy to-morrow. In the mean time, Agnes, Ihave ordered your boxes to be removed downstairs. Go!--and judge foryourself, my dear, if that good lady has not given up to you theprettiest room in the house!'
With those words, Lady Montbarry left Miss Lockwood to make a hastytoilet for dinner.
The new room at once produced a favourable impression on Agnes. Thelarge window, opening into a balcony, commanded an admirable view ofthe canal. The decorations on the walls and ceiling were skilfullycopied from the exquisitely graceful designs of Raphael in the Vatican.The massive wardrobe possessed compartments of unusual size, in whichdouble the number of dresses that Agnes possessed might have beenconveniently hung at full length. In the inner corner of the room,near the head of the bedstead, there was a recess which had been turnedinto a little dressing-room, and which opened by a second door on theinterior staircase of the hotel, commonly used by the servants.Noticing these aspects of the room at a glance, Agnes made thenecessary change in her dress, as quickly as possible. On her way backto the drawing-room she was addressed by a chambermaid in the corridorwho asked for her key. 'I will put your room tidy for the night,Miss,' the woman said, 'and I will then bring the key back to you inthe drawing-room.'
While the chambermaid was at her work, a solitary lady, loitering aboutthe corridor of the second storey, was watching her over thebannisters. After a while, the maid appeared, with her pail in herhand, leaving the room by way of the dressing-room and the back stairs.As she passed out of sight, the lady on the second floor (no other, itis needless to add, than the Countess herself) ran swiftly down thestairs, entered the bed-chamber by the principal door, and hid herselfin the empty side compartment of the wardrobe. The chambermaidreturned, completed her work, locked the door of the dressing-room onthe inner side, locked the principal entrance-door on leaving the room,and returned the key to Agnes in the drawing-room.
The travellers were just sitting down to their late dinner, when one ofthe children noticed that Agnes was not wearing her watch. Had sheleft it in her bed-chamber in the hurry of changing her dress? Sherose from the table at once in search of her watch; Lady Montbarryadvising her, as she went out, to see to the security of herbed-chamber, in the event of there being thieves in the house. Agnesfound her watch, forgotten on the toilet table, as she had anticipated.Before leaving the room again she acted on Lady Montbarry's advice, andtried the key in the lock of the dressing-room door. It was properlysecured. She left the bed-chamber, locking the main door behind her.
Immediately on her departure, the Countess, oppressed by the confinedair in the wardrobe, ventured on stepping out of her hiding place intothe empty room.
Entering the dressing-room, she listened at the door, until the silenceoutside informed her that the corridor was empty. Upon this, sheunlocked the door, and, passing out, closed it again softly; leaving itto all appearance (when viewed on the inner side) as carefully securedas Agnes had seen it when she tried the key in the lock with her ownhand.
While the Montbarrys were still at dinner, Henry Westwick joined them,arriving from Milan.
When he entered the room, and again when he advanced to shake handswith her, Agnes was conscious of a latent feeling which secretlyreciprocated Henry's unconcealed pleasure on meeting her again. For amoment only, she returned his look; and in that moment her ownobservation told her that she had silently encouraged him to hope. Shesaw it in the sudden glow of happiness which overspread his face; andshe confusedly took refuge in the usual conventional inquiries relatingto the relatives whom he had left at Milan.
Taking his place at the table, Henry gave a most amusing account of theposition of his brother Francis between the mercenary opera-dancer onone side, and the unscrupulous manager of the French theatre on theother. Matters had proceeded to such extremities, that the law hadbeen called on to interfere, and had decided the dispute in favour ofFrancis. On winning the victory the English manager had at once leftMilan, recalled to London by the affairs of his theatre. He wasaccompanied on the journey back, as he had been accompanied on thejourney out, by his sister. Resolved, after passing two nights ofterror in the Venetian hotel, never to enter it again, Mrs. Norburyasked to be excused from appearing at the family festival, on theground of ill-health. At her age, travelling fatigued her, and she wasglad to take advantage of her brother's escort to return to England.
While the talk at the dinner-table flowed easily onward, theevening-time advanced to night--and it became necessary to think ofsending the children to bed.
As Agnes rose to leave the room, accompanied by the eld
est girl, sheobserved with surprise that Henry's manner suddenly changed. He lookedserious and pre-occupied; and when his niece wished him good night, heabruptly said to her, 'Marian, I want to know what part of the hotelyou sleep in?' Marian, puzzled by the question, answered that she wasgoing to sleep, as usual, with 'Aunt Agnes.' Not satisfied with thatreply, Henry next inquired whether the bedroom was near the roomsoccupied by the other members of the travelling party. Answering forthe child, and wondering what Henry's object could possibly be, Agnesmentioned the polite sacrifice made to her convenience by Mrs. James.'Thanks to that lady's kindness,' she said, 'Marian and I are only onthe other side of the drawing-room.' Henry made no remark; he lookedincomprehensibly discontented as he opened the door for Agnes and hercompanion to pass out. After wishing them good night, he waited in thecorridor until he saw them enter the fatal corner-room--and then hecalled abruptly to his brother, 'Come out, Stephen, and let us smoke!'
As soon as the two brothers were at liberty to speak togetherprivately, Henry explained the motive which had led to his strangeinquiries about the bedrooms. Francis had informed him of the meetingwith the Countess at Venice, and of all that had followed it; and Henrynow carefully repeated the narrative to his brother in all its details.'I am not satisfied,' he added, 'about that woman's purpose in givingup her room. Without alarming the ladies by telling them what I havejust told you, can you not warn Agnes to be careful in securing herdoor?'
Lord Montbarry replied, that the warning had been already given by hiswife, and that Agnes might be trusted to take good care of herself andher little bed-fellow. For the rest, he looked upon the story of theCountess and her superstitions as a piece of theatrical exaggeration,amusing enough in itself, but unworthy of a moment's serious attention.
While the gentlemen were absent from the hotel, the room which had beenalready associated with so many startling circumstances, became thescene of another strange event in which Lady Montbarry's eldest childwas concerned.
Little Marian had been got ready for bed as usual, and had (so far)taken hardly any notice of the new room. As she knelt down to say herprayers, she happened to look up at that part of the ceiling above herwhich was just over the head of the bed. The next instant she alarmedAgnes, by starting to her feet with a cry of terror, and pointing to asmall brown spot on one of the white panelled spaces of the carvedceiling. 'It's a spot of blood!' the child exclaimed. 'Take me away!I won't sleep here!'
Seeing plainly that it would be useless to reason with her while shewas in the room, Agnes hurriedly wrapped Marian in a dressing-gown, andcarried her back to her mother in the drawing-room. Here, the ladiesdid their best to soothe and reassure the trembling girl. The effortproved to be useless; the impression that had been produced on theyoung and sensitive mind was not to be removed by persuasion. Mariancould give no explanation of the panic of terror that had seized her.She was quite unable to say why the spot on the ceiling looked like thecolour of a spot of blood. She only knew that she should die of terrorif she saw it again. Under these circumstances, but one alternativewas left. It was arranged that the child should pass the night in theroom occupied by her two younger sisters and the nurse.
In half an hour more, Marian was peacefully asleep with her arm aroundher sister's neck. Lady Montbarry went back with Agnes to her room tosee the spot on the ceiling which had so strangely frightened thechild. It was so small as to be only just perceptible, and it had inall probability been caused by the carelessness of a workman, or by adripping from water accidentally spilt on the floor of the room above.
'I really cannot understand why Marian should place such a shockinginterpretation on such a trifling thing,' Lady Montbarry remarked.
'I suspect the nurse is in some way answerable for what has happened,'Agnes suggested. 'She may quite possibly have been telling Marian sometragic nursery story which has left its mischievous impression behindit. Persons in her position are sadly ignorant of the danger ofexciting a child's imagination. You had better caution the nurseto-morrow.'
Lady Montbarry looked round the room with admiration. 'Is it notprettily decorated?' she said. 'I suppose, Agnes, you don't mindsleeping here by yourself.?'
Agnes laughed. 'I feel so tired,' she replied, 'that I was thinking ofbidding you good-night, instead of going back to the drawing-room.'
Lady Montbarry turned towards the door. 'I see your jewel-case on thetable,' she resumed. 'Don't forget to lock the other door there, inthe dressing-room.'
'I have already seen to it, and tried the key myself,' said Agnes.'Can I be of any use to you before I go to bed?'
'No, my dear, thank you; I feel sleepy enough to follow your example.Good night, Agnes--and pleasant dreams on your first night in Venice.'