A Search For A Secret: A Novel. Vol. 3

  CHAPTER VI.

  THE SEARCH RENEWED.

  James Fielding being gone, Sophy proceeded to put her long-cherishedplans into execution. She gave notice to Mrs. Billow that she was goingto leave. Had she been informed that the sky was on the point offalling, Mrs. Billow could not have been more astonished. Sophy had beenthere now more than five years, and her good landlady had come to lookupon her as a daughter; as one, indeed, who by education and habits wasfar above herself; as one who had been brought up, and had married, in astation far above her own, and with whom, therefore, she could not feelupon quite equal terms, but yet she loved her as she might have done hadSophy really been a daughter. She had been so long Sophy's only friend;she had nursed her through her illness; she had soothed and consoled herwhen there were none else to do so; she had looked upon her child asalmost belonging to her also;--so that when, after the first incredulousburst of astonishment was over, she saw that Sophy was really inearnest, and that she was going to leave her, Mrs. Billow sat down andhad a great cry over it. She, too, was a lonely woman; her husband, fromthe nature of his pursuits, allowed her to have no friends; and hehimself passed his existence in sleep and drunkenness; so that she hadattached herself very much to her young widow lodger and her baby, andfelt that, for her at least, it would be a heavy loss when she went.

  When Mrs. Billow had recovered herself sufficiently to speak, she said--

  "And where on earth are you going, my dear?"

  "I am going to Italy," Sophy said, quietly.

  "Italy!" Mrs. Billow said, in the greatest consternation; "going toforeign parts! Then I shall never see you again!" And here the goodwoman again gave way to plentiful tears.

  "I shall only be gone a year, Mrs. Billow; I shall be sure to be back inthat time."

  But Mrs. Billow was not to be comforted.

  "No, no, my dear, I shall never see you again. They all say it is onlyfor a year when they go to foreign parts; but they never come backagain. My nephew--that is, my sister Jane's son--William, he went toAustraly. 'Never mind, mother,' he said to her, 'I shall be back in ayear or two, a rich man;' and she never heard of him afterwards. Italways is so--either you get wrecked under the sea, or eaten by savages,or something dreadful; any how, they never come back again."

  Sophy after some difficulty persuaded Mrs. Billow that there was a greatdifference between Italy and Australia; that one was a four months'journey and the other four days; and that it all, with the exception oftwo hours, was by land.

  Mrs. Billow was somewhat comforted by this information; but was stillvery despondent and low for the few days Sophy remained with her.

  Mr. Billow, too, was much put out, and, indeed, felt himself personallyaggrieved. She had been with them so long, that he had come to look uponthe twelve shillings a week as a species of annuity which he received byright. As he said, he should never get another lodger who would suit himso well, who would give so little trouble, and ask no questions; indeed,that he did not think that he would take any lodger at all again, andthat, therefore, it was a clear robbery of twelve shillings a week.

  Sophy's friends, too, the Harleys, were greatly grieved when they heardthat Sophy and her child were leaving, and could not understand why shewanted to go to Italy; but the only explanation they received was thatshe wished to learn the language. They tried very hard to dissuade herfrom her intention, but without avail; and in less than ten days afterJames Fielding had left town, Sophy and her child started for Italy, herdestination being Florence.

  That fortnight's travelling Sophy enjoyed as she had never enjoyedanything before. She journeyed by comparatively short stages; for timewas no object to her, nor did she spare money. She was resolved to enjoyherself, and she entered into all the novelty of the scene with as muchzest as a schoolgirl out for her holidays. It was all so new and sostrange to her. She had never travelled before, except on that hurriedflight to Scotland, when her heart was so troubled at the thought of theold man she had left behind. Her life had been always so monotonous andeven, that the rapid motion, the strange sights and dresses, and thenovelty of everything, flushed her cheeks and brightened her eyes withpleasurable excitement; besides, had she not at last entered upon thatenterprise upon which her heart and thoughts had for the last threeyears been fixed--that enterprise, the result of which was to make herchild rich; and although, before that was to come, she might havetrouble and danger to encounter, still that was distant as yet: she hada year's holiday before her, and she was determined to make the most ofit.

  Little James was fortunately no drawback to this pleasure. Childrengenerally go into either one extreme or the other: when travelling, theyare either terribly peevish and irritable, or as good as gold.Fortunately, James chose the latter alternative; he either looked out ofthe windows and talked a great deal--principally about the horses andsheep and cattle grazing quietly in the meadows, as the train flew pastthem--or else slept for hours on the seat.

  They went by train as far as Chambery, and then by diligence and insledges over Mont Cenis. Very cold this journey was; but Sophy was wellwrapped up, and, with her child nestling on her lap, felt nothing butenjoyment as they passed over the pass and through the magnificentscenery which was all so new to her. At Susa they again took train, andthence through Turin to Genoa.

  Here Sophy stopped for a day, and wandered through the long streets andnarrow lanes, with the picturesque houses and quaint little jewellers'shops. The next morning they went by steamer to Leghorn, starting againnext day by train to Florence. Past Pisa, with its leaning tower andlofty campaniles, visible for miles across the plain; and then alonglovely valleys, studded with pretty villages, where every foot of groundis a garden; till at last the hills receded, and before them layFlorence in all its beauty. Here Sophy remained in a hotel for a week,waiting for answers to an advertisement she had inserted in the localpaper on the day of her arrival--

  "An English lady, with a little boy, desires to enter into an Italianfamily residing a short distance from Florence, where she can be treatedas one of themselves."

  To this she had many answers, but she finally selected one to which shewas recommended by the proprietor of the hotel, to whom she hadmentioned her wishes. He had, in turn, spoken to his wife, and she wassure that her brother Giacomo would be glad to receive the lady. Giacomowas written to, and came over to Florence with his wife. He lived in thevalley through which Sophy had journeyed from Pisa, and his wife and hewould be glad to receive the signora and her child, if she would notfind the place too rough for her.

  Sophy, before deciding, went over to see it, and when she did so, sheaccepted their proposal at once. The house stood by itself on the sideof the hill, a little way out of a village, and the view from itswindows was lovely. It was the property of her hosts, who owned,besides, about fifty acres of ground--a large farm in that locality,where ground is very valuable. The family consisted of her host, a finespecimen of the small Italian _proprietario;_ his wife, a cheery,talkative woman of about forty; and three daughters, from seventeen totwenty-one, all lively, hearty girls, even more talkative than theirmother.

  Here Sophy and her child took up their abode. She had studied Italianfor the four years that she had had this journey in anticipation, andcould write and speak it grammatically, although, of course, her accentwas very imperfect. At first she was unable to follow the rapidconversation around her, but before long she was quite at home at it,and could talk away as fast as themselves. Sophy insisted upon beingtreated as one of the family, helped the girls and their mother in theirhousehold work, and was very happy. Little James was soon as much athome as herself: he speedily picked up the language, and in six monthsspoke it as well, or better, than English, which, indeed, he would havequite lost, had not Sophy spoken to him in it when they were alonetogether.

  It was a very quiet, happy life. In the morning Sophy assisted at thedomestic work; that done, she sat under the shelter of the vines,working sometimes, and looking over the lovely country, with itspicturesque h
ouses--picturesque not only in shape but in colour, withtheir fancifully painted walls--with its innumerable littlegardens--they could be hardly called fields--separated by trees, overand between which the vines clustered and hung with graceful festoons;with the hills rising on either side, cultivated to the very tops; andover all the bright Italian sky, with its intense, cloudless blue.

  It was very charming; and as she sat there, and listened to her boy'slaughter, as he romped with the sisters, by whom he was made chief petand favourite, she would close her eyes, and almost wish it could lastfor ever. Had she been alone in the world, she would have been wellcontent that it should be so. The interest of the money that she hadwould have been amply sufficient for her present mode of life, but, forher boy's sake, she must leave it, as he, the rightful heir to a nobleproperty, must not grow up an Italian peasant. Her purpose must becarried out; yet still she felt it very hard to have to return again toEngland, with that heavy task before her of finding the will. Not thatshe ever wavered for an instant; but, as the time drew on, her spiritsdrooped, her cheek paled again, and she would sit for long hours withoutspeaking, musing over every detail of her purposed plans. And so, at theend of the year, Sophy and her child took their leave of their quietItalian home, not without many tears on their own parts and those oftheir friends; giving each of the women pretty presents and keepsakes,and promising that they should hear from her before long, and that someday she would pay them another, though it might be only a short, visit.

  Sophy did not go straight back, but proceeded to Bologna, and made anexcursion from there, which lasted three days; then--having carried outthe two objects she had proposed to herself when she left England--shewent back again over the St. Gothard; travelling, as before, withouthaste, until she returned to King Edward Street, Lambeth.

  Great was the pleasure with which she was received by Mrs. Billow andher other friends. Her rooms were still unlet--for Mr. Billow hadremained firm to his determination to receive no other lodgers--and soSophy went into them again, telling Mrs. Billow, however, that sheshould not, probably, occupy them for long, as she should shortly begoing away again. James Fielding and his wife came over to see her assoon as he heard of her return. His business was still prospering, andSophy liked his wife very much, but refused to go and stay with them, asthey wanted her to do.

  About ten days after her return, she said, one day, to the Harleys, whowere sitting with her--

  "I am going into the country in a fortnight or so. I have been so longaccustomed to fields and trees, that I long to be in them again, or, atany rate, out of London. I have nothing to do now, and feel lonely andsad here. It is such a change for Jamie, too, after the open-air life hehas had for the last year. But I want to ask you something. I may, atany moment, have to go far away again, and this time I cannot take himwith me. If I come up suddenly, and leave him with you, will you takecare of him as your own? It may be for three months--it may be for threeyears. Of course, I shall pay you; but it is not that. Will you takecare of him as your own?"

  Both husband and wife agreed willingly to take the child, if necessary,but asked what his mother could be going to do that she could not takeher boy with her? But to this they received no reply: she had to go, andthat was all she would tell them.

  The next day, when Mrs. Billow was out, and Jamie had gone over for agame of play with his friends opposite, Sophy went down into thekitchen, perfectly astounding Mr. Billow--who was, as usual, dozing overthe fire--by her appearance there.

  "Mrs. Billow is out, and I want to have some talk with you alone, Mr.Billow," she said quietly, sitting down opposite to the old man.

  "What can I do for you, Mrs. Gregory?" he asked, when he had rousedhimself a little.

  "Nothing, just at present, Mr. Billow. I want to ask you a question. Iknow that, in your way of business, you become connected with all sortsof strange characters."

  Mr. Billow opened his eyes in greater surprise than before. Was shecoming, as her husband had done more than five years before, to ask tobe introduced to two men for some desperate business? or what could shewant? He was too astonished to speak, and Sophy continued--

  "Now, do you think, Mr. Billow, that, in the circle of youracquaintance, you could find any one who could imitate a handwriting soexactly that it should not be known?"

  "Do you mean you want a forger?"

  "Not exactly that," Sophy said, quite composedly--for she had thoughtall this over so frequently, that it seemed to come quite as a matter ofcourse to her--"not exactly that, Mr. Billow. I want a man who canexactly imitate a handwriting, so that, if I send you a specimen of thehand I want copied, and the words of a letter to be written in thathandwriting, the letter can be executed so that no one will know thedifference. I may as well mention, that it is not for any purpose ofgetting money, or anything of that sort; it is a simple ordinaryletter."

  "It is such an extraordinary thing for you to ask."

  "Quite so, Mr. Billow, I am quite aware of that; but that is mybusiness, not yours. Of course it is an unusual thing, and I am ready topay an unusual price for it. What could you get me such a thing donefor?"

  Mr. Billow thought for some little time.

  "It is not at all in my line," he said, at last, "still, I could get ata man who would do it; but I daresay he would charge a twenty poundnote."

  "Very well, Mr. Billow, when the time comes, which may not be for a longtime yet, I will send you a specimen of handwriting, a copy of theletter to be written, and thirty pounds, and I shall expect it back intwo or three days at most after you receive it. That is all I wanted tosay, Mr. Billow, I need not ask you not to mention it to your wife."

  So saying, Sophy Gregory went up to her own room again, leaving Mr.Billow so extremely surprised that he was unable to settle comfortablyoff to sleep again for the rest of the evening.

  Sophy did not carry out the intention she had expressed of going intothe country with her child; for a day or two before she had intended tostart, a letter came from her foster-mother, saying, that it wanted amonth yet of her usual time of writing; but that Miss Harmer had brokenso much during the last two months, that she thought she ought to writeto Sophy as she had put so much stress upon it. The writer went on tosay that as far as she heard the village people say, there was noimmediate danger at all, but that she had given up going in toCanterbury to mass, and kept entirely in the house.

  Sophy, after she got this letter, sat for a long time quietly lookinginto the fire. The colour died out from her face, and her expressionchanged and hardened strangely. So it was come at last, this time forwhich she had waited so long and so patiently; it was now or never thisgreat prize was to be won, this grievous wrong to be righted. She didnot doubt or hesitate a moment, yet still she could not help beingsorry. She was so happy with her boy, she loved him so much that itseemed hard to go away and leave him; and perhaps--who could say? neversee him again. But all this feeling, natural as it was, she shortly putaside, and began once again to think over her plans; at last--with aface very different from that with which she had sat down--she got up,put on her things, and went out, across the water to a strange lookingshop near Drury Lane Theatre; here she purchased some of the things sheneeded, and ordered others, which would require preparation, to be madeup at once, and sent home the next evening.

  Then back again to King Edward Street. Mr. Billow told her that Jamiewas over at Mr. Harley's, and there she went. There was something sounusual and strange in her look and manner that both Mr. and Mrs. Harleynoticed it at once, and asked if she were ill, or if anything was thematter.

  Sophy shook her head, and sat down without speaking; her child ran up toher side to show her some new toy which his friends had given him: butshe did not look down at him, she only put her hand on his head andstroked it gently while she was speaking.

  "The other day, Mrs. Harley," she began, "you said that when I came upfrom the country you would take care of Jamie for me. I find that I mustgo away upon this business at once, the day after to
-morrow; are youwilling to take him now?"

  "Certainly, if you require it," Mrs. Harley said; "but must this be,Sophy? I don't know why, but this strange mystery makes me quite uneasy;and you look so white and unlike yourself."

  "I am quite well," Sophy replied; but she could not say more, for Jamieawakening to the fact that his mammy was going away without him, set upsuch a terrible roaring that all farther conversation was suspended forsome time; at last, on the promise that he should go out the next dayand choose any plaything he liked, his tears were dried, and for therest of the day he was occupied debating with himself, and with everyone else, on the respective merits of a big farm-yard, a big Noah's ark,a big ship, or a big horse. The next day Sophy packed up; she did thisquietly and methodically, talking very little to Jamie, but with everyfaculty absorbed in the one thought of the work she had before her. Inthe afternoon she bade good-bye to her friends opposite, left them moneyfor half a year's keep for James, and said she would send the nextinstalment when the time came. Just as she was going out Mrs. Harleysaid--

  "But you have not given us your address, Sophy. Where are we to write toyou?"

  "Not at all," she said. "Please put an advertisement in the _Times_ thefirst Monday of each month--'S. G., Jamie is well.' If anything shouldbe the matter in the mean time, advertise in the same way. I shall besure to see it. Good-bye, God bless you! take care of Jamie."

  Mr. and Mrs. Harley had a long talk together after Sophy had gone acrossto her own house, and they came to the conclusion that it was verystrange; and they were both inclined to believe that their friend'sbrain must be a little touched; still, what could they do? she was notmad enough to be shut up. Altogether it was very strange.

  That evening Sophy wrote a letter to James Fielding saying that she wasgoing away for a time, but imploring him on no account to institute anyinquiry after her, as such a proceeding might damage her to an extent hecould not possibly imagine. She told him that she had left Jamie withthe Harleys, and recalled his promise that in case of anything happeningto her, he would take care of her boy. She inclosed her will appointinghim to be her boy's guardian, and her sole executor in case of herdeath.

  In the morning she got up early, and dressed very quietly, keeping theblinds down, so as not to disturb Jamie. She took a little breakfast,kissed her sleeping child--one long, loving kiss,--and was gone.