“Go back to the other room and wait for me, Johnnie,” my mother said.
Surprised and disappointed, I protested: “Mayn’t I stay?”
“Why not let him?” the old gentleman asked. “It consarns him, don’t it?”
“If you wish it, Sir Perceval,” my mother said timidly and looked at me reproachfully. “But you must promise to be silent.”
I felt a little guilty at this victory and yet triumphant too. I nodded and moved towards her so that I stood beside her in her chair and we faced the other two.
My mother took one of the keys that hung from the chain around her waist and undid the lock that secured the slender document case which she always carried. Sir Perceval leaned forward eagerly as she found another key and unlocked the case itself. From it she took out a small paper that was rolled up into a cylinder secured by two brass rings at either end. None of us seemed even to breathe as she slid the rings free and carefully unrolled the paper. Standing behind her chair I could see that it was a single sheet of thick parchment covered with writing. Partly because I was too far away, but also because of the nature of the character which was beautifully regular but very strangely formed, I was unable to make out any of the words. A large red seal was affixed to the bottom of the paper, and there appeared to be three signatures just above it, for their irregularity contrasted with the rest of the writing.
“Let me look at it,” said Sir Perceval, reaching out a bony, be-ringed claw towards it although he was much too far away to reach it.
My mother drew back and pressed the paper close to herself: “No, Sir Perceval,” she exclaimed. “Please forgive me, but I must not allow you to touch it.” He muttered something and sat back. She held it up so that they could see it and said: “I hope you will accept this as proof that my claim to the annuity is valid.”
“Without prejudice to that question, Mrs Mellamphy,” said Lady Mompesson, “we will go so far as this: assuming that that is the codicil of which you sent us a copy some seven years ago, we are prepared to purchase it from you.”
My mother gasped: “Purchase it!” she exclaimed.
“In consideration,” Lady Mompesson went on, “of the sum of fifteen hundred pounds.”
“But it is not for sale!”
“That is our final offer,” said Lady Mompesson, “and I assure you that you are wasting your time if you believe it will be increased.”
“No,” my mother insisted. “I cannot sell it.”
“But, Mamma,” I broke in, “only think: fifteen hundred pounds would save us from having to sell all our things.”
I saw Lady Mompesson glance at Sir Perceval with a look of triumph at my words.
“Oh Johnnie, you shouldn’t have said that.” She addressed the Mompessons: “It is true that because of some ill fortune I have suffered, my son and I are penniless and I have no means of supporting us. And certainly no prospect of educating him to take his place in the world in the way that his birth …”
“Madam,” drawled Sir Perceval, “be so good as to come to the point.”
My mother flushed and began to speak more hurriedly: “That is all I have come to ask for today: the annuity that I am entitled to.”
“But you see, Mrs Mellamphy,” Lady Mompesson replied languidly, “my husband and I do not admit that you are entitled to it, and that for reasons that our legal representatives have in the past seven or eight years on frequent occasions communicated to yours, and that we ourselves rehearsed at length not five minutes ago.” She paused and then turned her gaze briefly on myself before saying dispassionately: “Do you wish me to repeat them now?”
“No,” said my mother quickly, “please do not.”
“But what we are prepared to offer you is a single payment for the codicil.”
“But it is not mine to sell, Lady Mompesson.” As she spoke my mother restored the document to its case and locked it up.
“I beg your pardon,” Lady Mompesson said icily, “I do not understand you, Mrs Mellamphy.”
“I tell you frankly I believe this to be a device,” Sir Perceval said.
“No!” my mother cried. Then she went on in a lower tone but as if struggling to master her feelings: “I promised my father I would keep it. This document cost him … cost him …” Here she faltered and broke off.
“I said it was a question of price,” the baronet exclaimed.
“I don’t mean that!” my mother exclaimed. Then she reflected for a moment, glanced at me and said: “I promised my father that I would pass it on to my heir. And, moreover, I know you would destroy it if I sold it to you.”
“And why the deuce should we not do so? Once we’d paid for it …”
“A moment, Sir Perceval,” his wife interrupted him. “If we did so,” Lady Mompesson began frigidly; “and mark that I say ‘if’ since to do so would be to put ourselves in peril of an action for contempt of court since the document might be material evidence in a suit still before the courts; if we did so, it would be because we believed it to be a forgery.”
“If it is a forgery then why are you so eager to have it?” I cried.
“Your son is very insolent, Mrs Mellamphy,” said Lady Mompesson in a matter-of-fact tone. “Nevertheless, I will answer that highly impertinent question. Even a forgery could damage our interests by prolonging that infernal suit.”
“It is not a forgery,” my mother exclaimed. “My father was convinced of that.”
Lady Mompesson smiled coldly: “But you see, my dear Mrs Mellamphy, your father might well not have been the most reliable authority in this matter. Consider how much he believed he stood to gain by it.”
My mother looked at her and bit her lip. “I hardly know how to take your meaning, Lady Mompesson. I can’t believe that you can be so cruel as to …” She paused and then said impulsively: “But I can assure you that the other party to the suit believes it is genuine.”
They both glanced quickly at each other.
“What the deuce do you mean?” Sir Perceval demanded.
“Somehow that party has learned that I have it and now knows where I am.”
“What evidence do you have for this?” Lady Mompesson asked.
“My house was broken into one night some time ago in an attempt to steal this document.”
This revelation had an extraordinary effect. Sir Perceval uttered an oath and his wife rose to her feet staring at her husband in amazement.
My mother now appeared dismayed by the response her words had provoked: “I didn’t mean to tell you.”
“The deuce you didn’t!” exclaimed Sir Perceval. “That determines it!” As if forgetting his bed-ridden state, he lifted the covering that lay over his legs and went to stand up. Then he realized what he was doing and said impatiently: “Isabella, ring the bell.”
“No,” my mother cried, standing up quickly and looking fearfully towards the door.
“Let me deal with this, Sir Perceval,” Lady Mompesson said calmly as she seated herself again.
At her request, my mother cautiously resumed her seat.
“And what makes you believe, Mrs Mellamphy, that this burglary was perpetrated by that party?” Lady Mompesson demanded.
“The burglar took nothing except a letter-case of mine,” my mother explained. “I’m sure he hoped to find the codicil in it.”
“That hardly constitutes conclusive proof,” Lady Mompesson remarked drily. “And is it likely that that party could have discovered your whereabouts when our own efforts to do so failed completely? Until the merest accident,” she added, glancing at me in a way that chilled me to the bone.
“I don’t know,” said my mother uncertainly.
“In brief, Mrs Mellamphy, you only mentioned the burglary in an attempt to intimidate my husband and myself into offering you a higher price by implying that you might allow the codicil to pass into the hands of our opposites, either by sale or by negligence.”
“Oh well done, Isabella!” the baronet called out.
r /> “No!” my mother cried in anguish. “How can you think I would be so dishonest?”
“To be frank,” Lady Mompesson said, “I can’t decide, Mrs Mellamphy, whether you are the most ingenuous or the most duplicitous individual I have ever had dealings with.”
“You can’t believe that I would … Surely you must realize how dangerous …” She broke off. “Perhaps you will believe me when I tell you that I have recently turned down an offer from that party to sell it.”
Again this piece of news fell on the Mompessons like a thunderbolt.
“Just as I said!” Sir Perceval exclaimed: “The woman is attempting to force up the price by involving us in a squalid auction.”
“That’s not true, Sir Perceval!” said my mother, rising to her feet and taking me by the hand. “And I don’t believe it’s right of you to speak of me like that!”
Lady Mompesson was looking at her strangely and ignored her husband’s remark: “Tell me, Mrs Mellamphy, how much were you offered and when?”
“Fifteen hundred pounds. The same as your offer. A lawyer came to me three or four years ago.”
Lady Mompesson smiled very faintly, and a thin-lipped, cruel smile it seemed to me.
As my mother began to move towards the door, Sir Perceval called out in a commanding tone: “Wait!” My mother turned. “Our final offer is seventeen hundred pounds.”
“You still don’t believe me! Don’t you see how you are insulting me?”
“I understand,” the baronet said savagely. “You believe that you will obtain a larger sum from our antagonist. Well, it may be so but I warn you, you’ll need a very long spoon if you intend to sup with that gentleman.”
“I don’t, I won’t,” cried my mother, now near to tears. With difficulty, she pulled open the great doors and ran from the room.
With a last glance back at Sir Perceval, his face suffused with rage as he propped himself on one elbow, and at Lady Mompesson who was still smiling, I followed her.
The footman who was standing outside the door moved suddenly to cut us off on the landing and then, with a disapproving glance back at us, led us to the entrance-hall where (I felt) he almost shoved us out down the steps, slamming the high portals behind us.
I was too angry and she too upset for there to be much speech between us. I felt that we had been disgraced and humiliated and I brooded long at the shamefulness of my mother’s demeanour. Though I longed to ask her how these grand folks were related to us and what their business was with her, I knew she would answer none of my questions.
CHAPTER 23
After this I was determined to meet Henrietta, even though it meant defying my mother’s wishes. The following Sunday I was unable to carry out this project because she accompanied me on my afternoon walk. But the Sunday after that the intensity of the heat and the ferocity of the sun shining from a clear sky, gave her such a head-ache that there was no question of her coming with me. With secret exultation I left the house and took the quickest way towards Hougham — along the course of the stream through Mortsey-wood.
When I reached the road to Over-Leigh where the park began, I lost the stream which ran underground into a culvert from this point. I easily entered the park, however, over the broken-down wall and made my way through a spinney where the hanging vines clung to the moss-covered trees as if the copse had turned in upon itself and was weaving a cloth for protection against the sun. As I hastened through it, the twisted branches of the dead trees clutched at my shoulders and arms, and the woodbine and brambles impeded my legs.
After some time I caught a glimpse of the lake ahead of me and knew that what I was looking for should be on my left. I heard the sound of falling water and cautiously left the cover of the wood and crossed part of the park that afforded little concealment. Ahead of me I saw a cascade falling some thirty feet into the lake and as I approached, a building came in sight further up the slope. The cascade came from a stone bason at the foot of this erection which, when I got nearer, I saw was a circular edifice with a colonnade of pillars above each of which was a stone figure. So that was a Pantheon!
I waited but nobody came. I walked about and looked at this strange construction, feeling that the statues reminded me of something that I could not recall. After an hour I cautiously crept through the woods and peered down at the great house. It had a very deserted air: few of the chimneys were smoking and I saw no-one come or go.
Now I had to hurry home because I was going to be late. To save time, I turned along the road when I reached the park-boundary, instead of tracing the stream back through Mortsey-wood. The way was dusty and I became hot and tired. Just as I was approaching the Green, a carriage came up behind and halted beside me.
“Which is the road to Nether-Chorlton, young master?” the driver called down to me in what I was now able to recognise as a London accent.
“You take the right-hand fork at the cross-roads up yonder,” I replied; “and follow the road through the village. At the other end you look out for the first lane on your left.”
At that moment the window on my side was lowered and a lady wearing a veil against the dust appeared: “Little boy,” she said very sweetly; “would you be kind enough to ride with us and show my coachman the way for fear that we may miss it?”
I knew that I would be disobeying my mother’s injunction to have nothing to do with strangers if I accepted. On the other hand, I reasoned, the carriage would pass my house and so it would get me home all the quicker and so make her less worried. From her voice and figure, I made out that the lady was barely grown up and I could detect no harm in it. While I stood hesitating, she opened the door and the driver climbed down and lowered the steps.
I was very tempted by the idea of riding in such a fine carriage beside such a charming young lady, and since I could perceive that there was nobody else with her, I could see no reason against it: “I should be very happy to set you on your road,” I replied.
I climbed up, and then the driver raised the steps and closed the door behind me.
“How kind you are,” the lady smiled at me as I seated myself beside her. “We have become fearfully lost among these horrid dusty back-lanes and my friends will be worried about me.”
The carriage moved and I felt a surge of pride at my first ride in such a vehicle. We seemed to be going very fast and as I looked out of window the ground seemed far below me.
We reached the cross-roads and to my surprise the driver brought the vehicle to a halt.
“Why, did he not understand me when I told him to take the right-hand way?” I asked the young lady. “I will tell him again.”
I went to put my head out of window but at that moment a man emerged swiftly from the bushes beside the road and leapt up, pulling open the door. It was not difficult for him to effect this for he was quite the tallest man I had ever seen.
While he got in he smiled triumphantly and then seized my arm as he seated himself opposite me, thus pulling me forward to within a few inches of his face. This was very white with deep black eyes, a lock of black hair with streaks of grey falling over one part of it, and a thin mouth which was twisted into a crooked smile: “Now I have you, young man,” he said, his hand gripping my arm so hard that I nearly cried out with the pain.
The carriage began to move off again and I realized that it was taking the opposite lane from the one into the village: “Why, this is not the way to Nether-Chorlton!” I cried.
“You had no trouble, then?” the man asked the young lady.
“None,” she answered. Then, in a tone that was not at all kindly, she said: “Master Mellamphy was very anxious to help.”
How did she know my name? My mind raced. I could not see her features through the veil but her voice sounded so unpleasant now that I wondered how I had ever thought it sweet.
The carriage was taking the road up Gallow-tree-hill towards the turnpike-road, and I knew that once on it our pace would be too fast to allow me any chance of escape. If I was
to make the attempt it had to be soon, while we were still labouring at not much more than walking pace up the hill. I remembered that only a few yards further ahead the road wound steeply to the left at the point where a small stream splashed across it. Here it would have to turn so sharply that it must almost come to a stop.
“You are hurting me,” I protested, hoping to induce a change of position which could only be to my advantage.
The man took no notice and I began to struggle.
The young lady leaned forward and slapped my face: “Sit still, you odious little monster!”
“Let him sit between us,” said the man. “That way we may both secure him.”
This was better than I had hoped. He rose from his seat opposite us and at that instant the vehicle tilted abruptly as it began to take the turn. Not expecting this, the man lost his balance and loosened his grip on my arm.
I had braced myself in anticipation of the movement of the carriage so that I was able to kick him on the shin with all the strength I could muster. With an oath he let go of my hand and I flung myself across the young lady towards the handle of the door on her side. Now I was out of reach of the man, and I managed to open it before the girl realized what I was doing. But then, recovering herself, she seized the tails of my jacket. I was looking down into the swollen stream now and it seemed to be a long way below me, but I jumped and felt my jacket tear before I splashed into the water and fell on my hands and knees. I was stunned for a moment, but the water was only a few inches deep and although I was bruised I had done myself no serious injury.
I scrambled quickly to my feet and made off down the road as fast as I could. When I glanced back I could see that the man had jumped down and was in pursuit of me. I could not hope to match him for speed for on the road he would be bound to overtake me with his long stride, but I knew the surrounding countryside intimately and amongst the undergrowth my small size would be an advantage, so I plunged into the wood at my left. Here I was able to slip beneath branches that obstructed him, but even so I could hear that he was gaining upon me.
My only chance was to take the risk of stopping and hiding. I dived into a thick clump of bushes and froze. Seconds later he came crashing past me and went on some yards ahead. Then he stopped as if to listen for me. He paused for some time and then, fortunately concluding (as I supposed) that I had got out of his hearing, went on ahead.