The Hand of Ethelberta: A Comedy in Chapters

  34. THE HOTEL BEAU SEJOUR AND SPOTS NEAR IT

  The next day, much to Ethelberta's surprise, there was a letter for herin her mother's up-hill hand. She neglected all the rest of its contentsfor the following engrossing sentences:--

  'Menlove has wormed everything out of poor Joey, we find, and your father is much upset about it. She had another quarrel with him, and then declared she would expose you and us to Mrs. Doncastle and all your friends. I think that Menlove is the kind of woman who will stick to her word, and the question for you to consider is, how can you best face out any report of the truth which she will spread, and contradict the lies that she will add to it? It appears to me to be a dreadful thing, and so it will probably appear to you. The worst part will be that your sisters and brothers are your servants, and that your father is actually engaged in the house where you dine. I am dreadful afraid that this will be considered a fine joke for gossips, and will cause no end of laughs in society at your expense. At any rate, should Menlove spread the report, it would absolutely prevent people from attending your lectures next season, for they would feel like dupes, and be angry with theirselves, and you, and all of us.

  'The only way out of the muddle that I can see for you is to put some scheme of marrying into effect as soon as possible, and before these things are known. Surely by this time, with all your opportunities, you have been able to strike up an acquaintance with some gentleman or other, so as to make a suitable match. You see, my dear Berta, marriage is a thing which, once carried out, fixes you more firm in a position than any personal brains can do; for as you stand at present, every loose tooth, and every combed-out hair, and every new wrinkle, and every sleepless night, is so much took away from your chance for the future, depending as it do upon your skill in charming. I know that you have had some good offers, so do listen to me, and warm up the best man of them again a bit, and get him to repeat his words before your roundness shrinks away, and 'tis too late.

  'Mr. Ladywell has called here to see you; it was just after I had heard that this Menlove might do harm, so I thought I could do no better than send down word to him that you would much like to see him, and were wondering sadly why he had not called lately. I gave him your address at Rouen, that he might find you, if he chose, at once, and be got to propose, since he is better than nobody. I believe he said, directly Joey gave him the address, that he was going abroad, and my opinion is that he will come to you, because of the encouragement I gave him. If so, you must thank me for my foresight and care for you.

  'I heave a sigh of relief sometimes at the thought that I, at any rate, found a husband before the present man-famine began. Don't refuse him this time, there's a dear, or, mark my words, you'll have cause to rue it--unless you have beforehand got engaged to somebody better than he. You will not if you have not already, for the exposure is sure to come soon.'

  'O, this false position!--it is ruining your nature, my too thoughtfulmother! But I will not accept any of them--I'll brazen it out!' saidEthelberta, throwing the letter wherever it chose to fly, and picking itup to read again. She stood and thought it all over. 'I must decide todo something!' was her sigh again; and, feeling an irresistible need ofmotion, she put on her things and went out to see what resolve themorning would bring.

  No rain had fallen during the night, and the air was now quiet in a warmheavy fog, through which old cider-smells, reminding her of Wessex,occasionally came from narrow streets in the background. Ethelbertapassed up the Rue Grand-Pont into the little dusky Rue Saint-Romain,behind the cathedral, being driven mechanically along by the fever andfret of her thoughts. She was about to enter the building by thetransept door, when she saw Lord Mountclere coming towards her.

  Ethelberta felt equal to him, or a dozen such, this morning. The loomingspectres raised by her mother's information, the wearing sense of beingover-weighted in the race, were driving her to a Hamlet-like fantasticismand defiance of augury; moreover, she was abroad.

  'I am about to ascend to the parapets of the cathedral,' said she, inanswer to a half inquiry.

  'I should be delighted to accompany you,' he rejoined, in a manner ascapable of explanation by his knowledge of her secret as was Ethelberta'smanner by her sense of nearing the end of her maying. But whether thisfrequent glide into her company was meant as ephemeral flirtation, tofill the half-hours of his journey, or whether it meant a serious love-suit--which were the only alternatives that had occurred to her on thesubject--did not trouble her now. 'I am bound to be civil to so great alord,' she lightly thought, and expressing no objection to his presence,she passed with him through the outbuildings, containing Gothic lumberfrom the shadowy pile above, and ascended the stone staircase. Emergingfrom its windings, they duly came to the long wooden ladder suspended inmid-air that led to the parapet of the tower. This being wide enough fortwo abreast, she could hardly do otherwise than wait a moment for theviscount, who up to this point had never faltered, and who amused her asthey went by scraps of his experience in various countries, which, to dohim justice, he told with vivacity and humour. Thus they reached the endof the flight, and entered behind a balustrade.

  'The prospect will be very lovely from this point when the fog has blownoff,' said Lord Mountclere faintly, for climbing and chattering at thesame time had fairly taken away his breath. He leant against the masonryto rest himself. 'The air is clearing already; I fancy I saw a sunbeamor two.'

  'It will be lovelier above,' said Ethelberta. 'Let us go to the platformat the base of the fleche, and wait for a view there.'

  'With all my heart,' said her attentive companion.

  They passed in at a door and up some more stone steps, which landed themfinally in the upper chamber of the tower. Lord Mountclere sank on abeam, and asked smilingly if her ambition was not satisfied with thisgoal. 'I recollect going to the top some years ago,' he added, 'and itdid not occur to me as being a thing worth doing a second time. Andthere was no fog then, either.'

  'O,' said Ethelberta, 'it is one of the most splendid things a person cando! The fog is going fast, and everybody with the least artistic feelingin the direction of bird's-eye views makes the ascent every time ofcoming here.'

  'Of course, of course,' said Lord Mountclere. 'And I am only too happyto go to any height with you.'

  'Since you so kindly offer, we will go to the very top of the spire--upthrough the fog and into the sunshine,' said Ethelberta.

  Lord Mountclere covered a grim misgiving by a gay smile, and away theywent up a ladder admitting to the base of the huge iron framework above;then they entered upon the regular ascent of the cage, towards the hoped-for celestial blue, and among breezes which never descended so low as thetown. The journey was enlivened with more breathless witticisms fromLord Mountclere, till she stepped ahead of him again; when he asked howmany more steps there were.

  She inquired of the man in the blue blouse who accompanied them. 'Fifty-five,' she returned to Lord Mountclere a moment later.

  They went round, and round, and yet around.

  'How many are there now?' Lord Mountclere demanded this time of the man.

  'A hundred and ninety, Monsieur,' he said.

  'But there were only fifty-five ever so long ago!'

  'Two hundred and five, then,' said the man. 'Perhaps the mist preventedMademoiselle hearing me distinctly?'

  'Never mind: I would follow were there five thousand more, didMademoiselle bid me!' said the exhausted nobleman gallantly, in English.

  'Hush!' said Ethelberta, with displeasure.

  'He doesn't understand a word,' said Lord Mountclere.

  They paced the remainder of their spiral pathway in silence, and havingat last reached the summit, Lord Mountclere sank down on one of thesteps, panting out, 'Dear me, dear me!'

  Ethelberta leaned and looked around, and said, 'How extraordinary thisis. It is sky above, below, everywhere.'

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nbsp; He dragged himself together and stepped to her side. They formed as itwere a little world to themselves, being completely ensphered by the fog,which here was dense as a sea of milk. Below was neither town, country,nor cathedral--simply whiteness, into which the iron legs of theirgigantic perch faded to nothing.

  'We have lost our labour; there is no prospect for you, after all, LordMountclere,' said Ethelberta, turning her eyes upon him. He looked ather face as if there were, and she continued, 'Listen; I hear sounds fromthe town: people's voices, and carts, and dogs, and the noise of arailway-train. Shall we now descend, and own ourselves disappointed?'

  'Whenever you choose.'

  Before they had put their intention in practice there appeared to bereasons for waiting awhile. Out of the plain of fog beneath, a stonetooth seemed to be upheaving itself: then another showed forth. Thesewere the summits of the St. Romain and the Butter Towers--at the westernend of the building. As the fog stratum collapsed other summitsmanifested their presence further off--among them the two spires andlantern of St. Ouen's; when to the left the dome of St. Madeline's caughta first ray from the peering sun, under which its scaly surface glitteredlike a fish. Then the mist rolled off in earnest, and revealed farbeneath them a whole city, its red, blue, and grey roofs forming avariegated pattern, small and subdued as that of a pavement in mosaic.Eastward in the spacious outlook lay the hill of St. Catherine, breakingintrusively into the large level valley of the Seine; south was the riverwhich had been the parent of the mist, and the Ile Lacroix, gorgeous inscarlet, purple, and green. On the western horizon could be dimlydiscerned melancholy forests, and further to the right stood the hill andrich groves of Boisguillaume.

  Ethelberta having now done looking around, the descent was begun andcontinued without intermission till they came to the passage behind theparapet.

  Ethelberta was about to step airily forward, when there reached her earthe voices of persons below. She recognized as one of them the slowunaccented tones of Neigh.

  'Please wait a minute!' she said in a peremptory manner of confusionsufficient to attract Lord Mountclere's attention.

  A recollection had sprung to her mind in a moment. She had half made anappointment with Neigh at her aunt's hotel for this very week, and herewas he in Rouen to keep it. To meet him while indulging in this vagarywith Lord Mountclere--which, now that the mood it had been engendered bywas passing off, she somewhat regretted--would be the height ofimprudence.

  'I should like to go round to the other side of the parapet for a fewmoments,' she said, with decisive quickness. 'Come with me, LordMountclere.'

  They went round to the other side. Here she kept the viscount and theirsuisse until she deemed it probable that Neigh had passed by, when shereturned with her companions and descended to the bottom. They emergedinto the Rue Saint-Romain, whereupon a woman called from the oppositeside of the way to their guide, stating that she had told the otherEnglish gentleman that the English lady had gone into the fleche.

  Ethelberta turned and looked up. She could just discern Neigh's formupon the steps of the fleche above, ascending toilsomely in search ofher.

  'What English gentleman could that have been?' said Lord Mountclere,after paying the man. He spoke in a way which showed he had notoverlooked her confusion. 'It seems that he must have been searching forus, or rather for you?'

  'Only Mr. Neigh,' said Ethelberta. 'He told me he was coming here. Ibelieve he is waiting for an interview with me.'

  'H'm,' said Lord Mountclere.

  'Business--only business,' said she.

  'Shall I leave you? Perhaps the business is important--most important.'

  'Unfortunately it is.'

  'You must forgive me this once: I cannot help--will you give mepermission to make a difficult remark?' said Lord Mountclere, in animpatient voice.

  'With pleasure.'

  'Well, then, the business I meant was--an engagement to be married.'

  Had it been possible for a woman to be perpetually on the alert she mightnow have supposed that Lord Mountclere knew all about her; a mechanicaldeference must have restrained such an illusion had he seen her in anyother light than that of a distracting slave. But she answered quietly,'So did I.'

  'But how does he know--dear me, dear me! I beg pardon,' said theviscount.

  She looked at him curiously, as if to imply that he was seriously out ofhis reckoning in respect of her if he supposed that he would be allowedto continue this little play at love-making as long as he chose, when shewas offered the position of wife by a man so good as Neigh.

  They stood in silence side by side till, much to her ease, Corneliaappeared at the corner waiting. At the last moment he said, in somewhatagitated tones, and with what appeared to be a renewal of the respectwhich had been imperceptibly dropped since they crossed the Channel, 'Iwas not aware of your engagement to Mr. Neigh. I fear I have been actingmistakenly on that account.'

  'There is no engagement as yet,' said she.

  Lord Mountclere brightened like a child. 'Then may I have a few words inprivate--'

  'Not now--not to-day,' said Ethelberta, with a certain irritation at sheknew not what. 'Believe me, Lord Mountclere, you are mistaken in manythings. I mean, you think more of me than you ought. A time will comewhen you will despise me for this day's work, and it is madness in you togo further.'

  Lord Mountclere, knowing what he did know, may have imagined what shereferred to; but Ethelberta was without the least proof that he had thekey to her humour. 'Well, well, I'll be responsible for the madness,' hesaid. 'I know you to be--a famous woman, at all events; and that'senough. I would say more, but I cannot here. May I call upon you?'

  'Not now.'

  'When shall I?'

  'If you must, let it be a month hence at my house in town,' she saidindifferently, the Hamlet mood being still upon her. 'Yes, call upon usthen, and I will tell you everything that may remain to be told, if youshould be inclined to listen. A rumour is afloat which will undeceiveyou in much, and depress me to death. And now I will walk back: prayexcuse me.' She entered the street, and joined Cornelia.

  Lord Mountclere paced irregularly along, turned the corner, and wenttowards his inn, nearing which his tread grew lighter, till he scarcelyseemed to touch the ground. He became gleeful, and said to himself,nervously palming his hip with his left hand, as if previous to plungingit into hot water for some prize: 'Upon my life I've a good mind! Uponmy life I have!. . . . I must make a straightforward thing of it, and atonce; or he will have her. But he shall not, and I will--hee-hee!'

  The fascinated man, screaming inwardly with the excitement, glee, andagony of his position, entered the hotel, wrote a hasty note toEthelberta and despatched it by hand, looked to his dress and appearance,ordered a carriage, and in a quarter of an hour was being driven towardsthe Hotel Beau Sejour, whither his note had preceded him.