Chapter XXXII: Madame Vaughan

Captain and Mrs. Derinzy had not yet returned to the uncongenial seclusion of Beachborough. The Captain, who, since he had been coerced, by Dr. Wainwright's strong representation that he might find it uncomfortable if he refused, into permitting the experiment proposed by Hildebrand, had been unusually tractable, was not, it will be readily believed, eager to leave London. As things were looking at present--and he was aware they had assumed a very ugly complexion--there was a decidedly unpleasant uncertainty about the prospect of his getting back again to his favourite resorts, which quickened his appreciation of the wisdom of remaining in London as long as he could contrive to do so, and getting as much pleasure as possible out of the time.

Mrs. Derinzy considered that it was proper to await Annette's return in town; there would be so many things to settle when she came back; and if they really were to be finally defeated in all their plans, if Paul's folly and obstinacy were to defeat the marriage project, and Annette's restoration to health render her attainment of her majority a real acquisition of power, not a mere form, they would be better in London than elsewhere. Annette might or might not settle an annuity worth having upon them, if the power to manage her own affairs should accrue to her; but if they did not voluntarily abandon it, she could hardly do otherwise than invite them to continue to share her home. The accounts which Mrs. Derinzy had received from Mrs. Stothard were facsimiles of those which had been forwarded to Dr. Wainwright, and in their contents Mrs. Derinzy discerned defeat.

She was not a wicked, she was only a weak and selfish, woman; and though that combination has worked as much woe as the more positive evil, it is only fair to credit her with the palliation. No one could have been more genuinely shocked than Mrs. Derinzy, if she had been plainly told that she _feared_ Annette's recovery, that she _hoped_ for her continued infirmity of mind. She would have repudiated such an idea with vehemence and sincerity; but she would have been infinitely puzzled to define the distinction between the feeling of which she firmly believed herself incapable, and the feeling which she did, beyond dispute, entertain. If Annette could have been perfectly sane, but at the same time utterly passive in her hands; if she could have been thoroughly competent to manage her own affairs; and at the same time quite incapable of ever desiring to understand or interfere with them, that would have been charming. Mrs. Derinzy thought it unreasonable that so easy a state of things should not be immediately called into existence. At this particular period of her life she regarded herself as an ill-used individual, whose husband, son, and niece, separately and in combination, were in act to "worry her to death."

It might have been all so comfortable and safe and prosperous--so nice for them, so well for Paul, so pleasant for poor dear Annette herself--if it had not been for that odious Miss Stafford in the first place, and afterwards for that meddling German doctor. But Paul was most to blame; indeed, if the marriage had come off, it would have been for every reason best that Annette should be restored to perfect sanity; this "pother" was his doing chiefly. She was very angry with Paul--angry with him, that is to say, when he had recovered, when the danger that the sun of his life might go down upon her wrath was at an end, when he was abroad gaining health and strength, enjoying himself, and carrying on a voluminous correspondence with Daisy; while she had to lament the discomfiture of her designs, and put up with the Captain's discontent and temper.

On the whole, Captain and Mrs. Derinzy were very ill at ease, feeling like a pair of discomfited conspirators, which indeed they were, and experiencing a humiliating sense of having had the guidance of affairs taken out of their hands suddenly, noiselessly, dexterously, and irresistibly. Thenceforward the Captain would complain of "that d--d authoritative way of Wainwright's," and Mrs. Derinzy admit that she "had never quite understood the Doctor;" and they were drawn nearer together by the discomfiture than they had been by any success or vexation for many years.

Annette was coming home--the day and hour of her arrival were fixed; and Mrs. Derinzy had heard from her son that he intended to return immediately. Something must be settled now. The explanation, which must inevitably be encountered, had better be brought on at once. It had occurred to Mrs. Derinzy as a cunning device of immense merit to call on Daisy, and, availing herself of Paul's absence, address herself to the girl's disinterestedness and generosity, and secure her promise that she would refuse Paul should he again ask her to marry him. No consideration that one refusal on Daisy's part had already almost cost Paul his life interfered with his mother's sage resolution. "He will have gotten over it," she believed, because she desired to believe so.

In pursuance of this brilliant idea, Mrs. Derinzy called on Madame Clarisse, and condescendingly inquired if she could see Miss Stafford.

But she could not. Madame Clarisse benignly explained that Miss Stafford, who had not been quite strong lately, had applied for a short vacation, and gone to the country, to the farmhouse of a relative. Madame Clarisse could give Mrs. Derinzy the address; but that lady, who did not calculate on an epistolary victory, declined, and went away, leaving the astute _modiste_ to wonder what her business with Miss Stafford might be, and to make a very "near" guess at the facts.

There was no help for it; Paul must come back, and she must fight the battle single-handed. She wished that meddling George Wainwright would have remained away a little longer. He had not behaved so badly as she had been inclined to believe at first in that matter of Paul's illness and Miss Stafford, but they could manage their affairs quite as well without him.

On the morning of the day fixed for Annette's return, Dr. Wainwright visited Mrs. Derinzy, and gave her sundry injunctions as to composure, and the avoidance of fuss and excitement, in her reception of the convalescent. The effect of the lesson was, as the Doctor intended it should be, to rouse Mrs. Derinzy up into the exhibition of some kindness and warmth of feeling towards the girl, who had for a long period known nothing more than an indifferent imitation of a home. The effort to seem kind and affectionate bore its fruits in inspiring Mrs. Derinzy with more of the feelings she strove to imitate than she had ever yet experienced, and her heart fairly melted into true kindliness. She forgot her interested scheming, she did not even remember Annette's money, when she saw Annette herself, the picture of health, and of natural girlish happiness.

The most convincing proof, to Mrs. Derinzy's mind, that the restoration of Annette was real and complete, was furnished by the alteration in Mrs. Stothard's manner. As soon as she could see her alone, Mrs. Derinzy had asked Mrs. Stothard her opinion of the case. The answer was quickly and decisively given:

"The German doctor is the queerest man I ever saw, and I'm far from sure that he is not mad himself; but he has cured Miss Annette, and sent her home as sane as you and I."

Every word, look, and gesture of Mrs. Stothard's confirmed this statement. There was no longer any of the steady unrelaxing vigilance, the set watch upon the girl, the calmly authoritative or soothingly coaxing tone which she had been used to maintain. There was no longer the half-servant demeanour, the personal waiting on Annette which had puzzled more than one of the very few persons who had ever had an opportunity of speculating on Mrs. Stothard's real position in the Derinzy household.

Every trace of this manner had vanished. Mrs. Stothard was Annette's companion, and nothing more. She formally, though without explanation, assumed this position, whose functions she fulfilled as perfectly as she had fulfilled the more painful and onerous duties of her former station. It is probable that she and Dr. Wainwright had come to an understanding, but if so, no third party was the wiser.

Dr. Wainwright, who was perfectly satisfied of Annette's convalescence, was a little curious as to how she would receive him, and on his part assumed a friendly, almost paternal, manner in which there was no trace of his old relation of physician. But Annette, seizing an opportunity of speaking to him alone, referred openly to her former malady, and in the warmest terms thanked him for all his solicitude and care. Her ready frankness conveyed to the Doctor the last best assurance of her complete recovery, and he met her expressions of gratitude with prompt kindness. He left his former patient on this first occasion of their meeting with an earnest wish for the success of his son in the suit he had no doubt George would immediately urge. "If the case had been any other," Dr. Wainwright thought, as he made his way out of the house without seeing either Captain or Mrs. Derinzy, "I might not feel so disinterestedly pleased that another has succeeded where I have for some time despaired of success, but I cannot grudge Hildebrand his triumph, when it is to secure George's happiness, as I do believe it will, for this girl is a fine creature."

Dr. Wainwright had stipulated, in writing to his son, that he was not to see Annette until after he had had an opportunity of forming his own judgment upon her state; and he had accepted it as understood, that if the cure were not complete, George would not ask Annette to marry him. When he had made his visit to her, with the results already recorded, he wrote to George, who had arrived in England that morning, in the following terms, characteristic of the writer, and eminently satisfactory to the recipient:

"MY DEAR GEORGE,--I have seen Miss Derinzy. Hildebrand has kept his promise, and beaten me, to our mutual satisfaction. Go and visit her as soon as you please, and you have _my_ consent, if you can gain the lady's, to turn my patient into my daughter, as soon as you like.--Yours ever,

G.W."

"That's glorious!" said Paul, who had gone home with George on their arrival. "I am as glad for her sake as for yours, and for yours as for hers, and I can't say fairer than that, can I? Annette is a dear girl, and I am quite sure she likes you. I know something of the symptoms, George, my boy! The governor and my mother will be furious, of course, and I should not wonder if they declare your father and you are in a conspiracy against them for your own purposes. However, if they proclaim such a plot as that, they must include me in it. I say, George, suppose Annette and I did a bit of the old romance business, and solemnly repudiated each other; 'unalterably never yours,' and that kind of thing, you know?"

George smiled but dimly, and answered his friend's pleasantries only vaguely. He had not the assurance and certainty with which Paul accredited him. In the great change which had befallen Annette, in the new hope and happiness of her life, he might not have the large share of which his friend believed him confident. He had a true gentleman's diffidence towards the woman he loved, and no assurance at second hand could render him secure. He had awaited his father's message with keen anxiety, and now that it had come, and was so full of goodness, he was feverishly impatient to learn his fate. The time had come, the time which had seemed so hopelessly far off had drawn near with wonderful celerity, and he was to know his destiny--he was to

put it to the touch,
To win or lose it all.

He read his father's letter again--"as soon as you like. I will see her to-day, I will ask her to-day," he said to himself. "There is no risk to her, or my father would not have said this." Then he said to Paul:

"You will come with me, won't you?"

"Of a surety that will I," answered Paul; "and I will tackle the governor and my mother--you may be sure there's plenty ready for me on the score of Daisy--and leave you to welcome Annette home _en tête-à-tête_."

Just as the friends were leaving the house, a servant came in search of George, and stopped him. George asked him with pardonable impatience what he wanted, and the man replied, that Madame Vaughan had been very ill during the night, and the nurse had sent to Mr. George to tell him that she desired to see him at his earliest convenience. George asked the man several particulars about his poor friend, and expressed his readiness to go and see Madame Vaughan immediately; but this act of self-denial was not exacted of him.

"She's asleep just now, sir," said the man, "and the nurse would not like to disturb her, she has had such a bad night; but I was not to let you leave the house without telling you, sir."

* * * * *

Many a less brave man has gone to a battle with a stouter heart than that with which George Wainwright entered the Derinzy mansion, and was ushered into the room where Annette, her aunt, and Mrs. Stothard were assembled. The young lady was seated at the piano; the sounds of music had reached the visitors as they ascended the stairs; and on their entrance she rose. Paul went into the room first. She received her cousin with a smile, and his friend, who followed him closely, with a deep, burning, lasting blush, perceived by Paul, George, and one other. This observer was Mrs. Stothard, who, having performed her share in the general civilities, withdrew, with a meaning and well-satisfied smile in her clear gray eyes, and on her calm, determined, authoritative mouth.

"So," she thought, "I was right. I suspected before we left town, and now I know. Well, so long as my Fanny comes by her fair share, I am content; and she shall come by it, or I will know why. Old Hildebrand is a very clever man, and so is Dr. Wainwright, and they have both done wonders in this case, but I believe Mr. George is the true healer. I hold to the old proverb, 'Love is the best physician.'"

* * * * *

When Paul Derinzy and his mother returned to the small drawing-room, whence George Wainwright's friend and accomplice had drawn Mrs. Derinzy within a very few minutes of their arrival, they found Annette in tears, and her companion in a state of quite unmistakable excitement and agitation. The first glance which Mrs. Derinzy directed towards the girl enlightened her as to the cause of the emotion she was evincing; and by that ray of illumination was dispersed the little feeble hope of ever carrying her laboriously-constructed design into effect, which had survived her conversation with Paul. It was surprising--or rather it would have been surprising to anyone who did not know how obstinate woman can be in declining to acknowledge a defeat--that her favourite delusion could have survived the brief but momentous and decisive conversation she had just had with her son; who had positively declared his intention of marrying Daisy, if by any persuasion she could be induced to accept him, and as distinctly his determination _not_ to marry Annette, if she should prove as willing as her cousin was justly convinced she was unwilling to have him. She had controlled her temper wonderfully; her feelings were a little softened by the first sight of Paul restored to health; and she re-entered the drawing-room determined to believe that all was not yet completely lost. The sweet delusion fled at the sight of the faces of the lovers.

"What does this mean?" demanded the angry lady.

George started up from his place--quite unconventionally close to Annette--and was beginning to speak, when Paul interrupted him.

"It means capital news, mother.--George, I wish you joy.--It means the best thing possible for all parties. The best fellow in England is going to marry the nicest girl in Europe.--Isn't it so, George?--Isn't it so, Annette?--Come, mother, you must not look glum over it; it's on my account you do so, I know; but I declare before witnesses my conviction that Annette would not have married me, and that nothing in the world should have induced me to marry Annette."

"Though I am the nicest girl in Europe, eh, Paul?" asked Annette, looking at him through her joyful tears, with a shy archness which was an entirely new expression in her face.

"Yes," said Paul, bestowing upon his cousin, for the first time in his life, an unceremonious hug; "but then I'm not the best fellow in England."

"Am I to understand, Mr. Wainwright," began Mrs. Derinzy with an assumption of dignity much impaired by the reality of her anger, "that you and Miss Derinzy are engaged?"

"Yes, madam," said George, and he took Annette's hand in his. "Miss Derinzy has promised to become my wife, and she and I both hope for your sanction, and that of Captain Derinzy."

"It will be entirely a matter for the lawyers, sir. Until Miss Derinzy is of age, no arrangement of the kind can possibly receive our sanction, for reasons with which I have no doubt you are well acquainted. After that time, it will be a question for the lawyers whether Miss Derinzy can contract any engagements."

It was a cruel speech, and Paul felt equally hurt and ashamed of it. George's face glowed with anger; but Annette did not seem in the least hurt by it. She smiled very sweetly, laid her hand caressingly on Mrs. Derinzy's shoulder, and said:

"Dear aunt, I hope the lawyers will not be hard on me. I shall only ask them to do two things for me--to let me marry George, and to let me give half my money to you and Paul."

"If she is in earnest," thought Mrs. Derinzy, seizing on the idea with lightning rapidity, "this is unlooked-for compensation for the defeat of our plans, and I trust the lawyers will let her have her own way; but if I were one or all of them, I should regard the notion for one thing as strong proof that she is not cured, and for another that she has bitten George and made him as mad as herself."

But Mrs. Derinzy was very careful to conceal the effect which Annette's generous unguarded proposition had produced upon her. She answered her gently and without effusion, that this was a matter of which women could not judge, and in which she would not interfere. It must be referred in the first place to Captain Derinzy. She then took a cold and formal leave of George Wainwright, and left the room.

George, Paul, and Annette looked at one another rather blankly for the space of a few moments, and then Paul said:

"Never mind; it's all right. All that about the money is bosh, you know, George. I'm not going to rob Annette because my friend is going to marry her. But the discussion will keep, and we are mutually a nuisance just now."

He was out of the room in a moment; the next they heard him bang the front door cheerfully, and go off whistling down the street.

It is only with one portion of the conversation which ensued on Paul's departure, which the reader can reproduce according to his taste or his memory, that this story has any concern. Annette spoke of her position, in every aspect with perfect unreserve to her future husband, and she told him, without anger or vindictiveness, but with a clear and sensible conviction, that, if the bribe of half her fortune did not suffice to buy him off, she was sure they would experience active enmity from the Captain, who would resist to the utmost the deprivation of his power as her legal heir over her property, and would leave no effort unmade to dispute her restoration to sanity. She proposed that George should inform his father of their engagement and of her apprehensions, and then that he should call on Messrs. Hamber and Clarke, her father's former solicitors, and ascertain precisely the amount and conditions of her property; and armed with these sanctions, that he should demand an interview with Captain Derinzy, who was just then fortunately absent from home.

Annette's maid had twice presented herself with an intimation that it was time Miss Derinzy should dress for dinner, before the interview of the lovers came to an end. But at length George took leave of his affianced bride, and turned his steps at once towards the Albany.

Dr. Wainwright listened to his son's story with grave interest and not a little amusement.

"They will take the money," he said, when George had concluded his recital of the morning's events. "It is too much, too liberal; but I suppose she must have her own way. You won't have any trouble, I am pretty sure. Derinzy is a fool in some respects, but in others he is only a knave, and he won't venture to try to retain his power by disputing Miss Derinzy's sanity, in the teeth of my testimony; he will keep the substance, depend on it, and not grasp at the shadow. And so Miss Derinzy's solicitors are Hamber and Clarke? It's an odd coincidence," added the Doctor musingly.

"Why?"

"Because they are concerned in another case in which we are both interested. Your poor friend Madame Vaughan's case, George. It is through them her annuity is paid, and I must say they are capital men of business, so far as punctual payments and keeping a secret faithfully are concerned."

"That _is_ an odd coincidence indeed. You know them, then? Would you have any objection to call on them with me?"

"Not the least. I can make time to-morrow morning. They have always been very civil to me."

On the following day, the two gentlemen took their way to the offices of Messrs. Hamber and Clarke, and were without delay admitted to an audience with the head of the firm, a polite, impressive gentleman, who heard George's statement of his business in silence, which he broke only to repudiate with decided eagerness the association of the firm in any way with Captain Derinzy. They had acted for Miss Derinzy's father in a confidential capacity for many years, but their trust, with one exception specially provided for during Mr. Derinzy's lifetime, had passed into other hands on Captain Derinzy's assuming the guardianship of his orphan niece.

This intelligence was grateful rather than otherwise to Paul. If Messrs. Hamber and Clarke had been Captain Derinzy's solicitors, they would probably have declined to afford him any information unsanctioned by their client; but as things were Mr. Hamber furnished him with full particulars. Acting on Annette's instructions, George informed her father's old friend of all they had to wish and to fear, and told him what were Annette's designs, supposing she secured the full personal control of her property. He was prepared to find these designs treated as extravagant by a man of business, but also prepared to disregard his opinion.

"Derinzy would never venture to fight it out," said the lawyer; "though if he did, he must be beaten on your father's evidence. There's no question Miss Derinzy could make far better terms. I understand you, sir," turning to Dr. Wainwright, "that you are entirely confident of the cure?"

"Certainly," replied the Doctor; "there's no doubt about it. Nothing can be clearer."

"Then that's conclusive," said Mr. Hamber, "unless, indeed--to be sure, there's the hereditary taint."

"Hereditary taint! What do you mean?" asked Dr. Wainwright. "None of the Derinzy family that I could hear of were ever mad; I investigated that point closely, when Miss Derinzy first became my patient."

Mr. Hamber looked vexed with himself, as a man does who has said too much, or at all events has said more than he intended. He hesitated, kept a brief silence, and then, taking a resolution, spoke:

"I think, Dr. Wainwright, you will give us credit for discretion, so far as you know us. I am of opinion that discretion, like every quality, may be carried too far. Up to the present it has been our duty to be silent concerning one particular of our relations with the late Mrs. Derinzy, but at this point it seems to me our duty to speak--confidentially, you will understand--to you and your son. Your object and our wish is to benefit Miss Derinzy, and I think it would not be fair to her, and therefore, of course, contrary to her father's wishes, that you should remain ignorant of a fact, the knowledge of which may modify your proceedings, and alter your judgment."

"Certainly, you are quite right. We must be perfectly informed to act efficiently," said Dr. Wainwright, who had felt much compassion for the miserable anxiety displayed in George's countenance during the long-winded exordium of Mr. Hamber.

"Then, sir," said the lawyer solemnly, "it is my painful duty to tell you that Miss Derinzy's mother is living and is mad."

"Good God, how horrible!" exclaimed George.

"Horrible indeed. She was a Frenchwoman, and she became deranged from a shock, after her child's birth. I suppose the treatment of the insane was not wise in those days, for she never recovered; and her husband's horror of the possible effect on the child made him morbidly anxious to put her out of sight and recollection. It was a bad business, not intentionally cruel, I am sure, but ill-judged, and she had much to suffer, I've no doubt. A sum was invested and placed in our keeping, and the payments are made by us. The poor woman has been very quiet and happy for a long time, for which I have frequently had your word, Dr. Wainwright."

"My word!" exclaimed the Doctor, on whom a light was breaking.

"Yes, indeed. I am speaking of Madame Vaughan."

"Of Madame Vaughan!" cried George, in a choking voice, quite unmanned by this revelation. "Ah, father, then it is no delusion, after all; the child--the child she is always pining for is my Annette."

"Even so," said Dr. Wainwright, and laid his hand on his son's arm impressively. "I don't wonder this discovery should affect you painfully. But cheer up, George. Remember, this pining for her child is the only trace of insanity your poor friend has exhibited for years--has ever exhibited, indeed, within my knowledge. Now we know this supposed delusion is no delusion at all, but a truth; and I don't entertain the smallest doubt that Annette's mother is as sane as you or I."