Chapter XXXII

About my Yorkshire journey it is unnecessary to say much. I saw Hover once more, stately as ever, but lifeless. The great house shut up, its many treasures swathed in dust sheets and brown paper. When it would be opened again none knew. Probably Colonel Esdaile would bring some gentlemen down in August for grouse-shooting, or for covert-shooting in October. He would hunt there during the winter.--The Colonel, always and only the Colonel, as man in possession?

I said as much to Warcop--to whom my visit was made--sitting before the empty stove in that queer sanctum of his, hung round with prints and spoils of the stud-farm and the chase. Whereupon he stuck out his bulldog under-jaw and mournfully shook his big grizzled head.

Yes, he answered, that was pretty well what it all came to. Would to God it did not!--always and only Colonel Jack at Hover in these days. And my lord lay a-dying, so they said, at Bath; and my young lord gave no sign. And her ladyship flitted in, like some great bright-painted butterfly, for a day and a night. Looked round the stables and gardens with a laugh, hanging on the Colonel’s arm, and flitted off again, as gay as you please, to London or Bath, or Old Nick knew where; while Colonel Jack, with a face like thunder and a temper like tinder, cursed the very guts out of anyone unlucky enough to cross his path for full twenty-four hours afterwards. Colonel Esdaile was a changed man, as I gathered; his swaggering manner and jovial good-humour a thing of the past, save at rare intervals or when her ladyship happened to be about.

All of which was bad hearing. The more so as, without going all lengths with Braithwaite in his condemnation of our hereditary nobility, I believed then--and believe firmly still--that if a great nobleman, or great landowner, is to justify his position--aye, and his very existence--he must live on his estate, keep in close touch with, and hold himself directly responsible for the welfare of, all ranks of its population--labourers, artisans, rent-payers great and small, alike. The middle-man, however just or able an administrator, introduces, and must always introduce, a cold-blooded, mechanical relation as between landlord and tenant, employer and employed. And, now listening to Warcop’s lament, I trembled lest the curse of absenteeism--which during recent years has worked such havoc of class hatred and disaffection in Ireland--should set its evil mark upon this English country-side.

In this connection it was inevitable that memories of my former dreams and ambitions for Hover should come back to me with a bitter sense of failure and of regret. Dreams and ambitions of so educating and training my dear pupil as to make him an ideal landowner, an ideal nobleman, to whom no corner of his vast possessions, the lives lived and work done there, would be a matter of indifference; but who would accept and obey the divinely ordained law of rulership and ownership which reminds us every privilege carries with it a corresponding obligation, and that the highest duty of him who governs is to serve.

Where had all those fair dreams and ambitions departed now? Were they for ever undone and dissipated? It seemed so, alas! Yet who could tell? Had I not promised Nellie, and that in some sort against my dearest interests, to watch over Hartover to the best of my power, and care for him still? And if a poor faulty human creature, such as I, could be faithful, how much more God, his Maker! Yes, I would set my hope, both for him and for Hover, firmly there, black though things looked at present. For Almighty God, loving him infinitely more than I--much though I loved him--would surely find means for his redemption, and, notwithstanding his many temptations, still make for him a way of escape.

And with that I turned my mind resolutely to the practical inquiry which had brought me north, questioning Warcop concerning the disappearance of Marsigli and the theft, with which he stood charged, of jewels and of plate.

Warcop’s first words in reply, I own, set my heart beating.

‘Best ask French Mamzelle, sir,’ he said, with a snarl. ‘For, as sure as my name’s Jesse Warcop, she’d the main finger in that pie. Picked out t’ fattest o’ the plums for herself, too, and fathered the job upon Marsigli to rid herself of the fellow.’

‘To rid herself of him?’

‘’Od, an’ why not? So long as ye were here wi’ us, sir, what she’d set her mind to have was out of her reach. But, you safe gone, she’d na more stomach for my lord’s Italian butler, bless you--must fly at higher game than that.’

‘Lord Hartover?’

‘And who else? Eh! but she’s a canny one; none of your hot-heads, rushing into a thing afore they’ve fairly planned it. She’d her plan pat enough. Laid her train or ever she struck a match; waited till she kenned it was all over between t’ dear lad and Braithwaite’s lass. Had Marsigli muzzled, seeing that to tell on her was to tell on himself. And others, that should ha’ shown her up, durstn’t do it, lest she opened her mouth and set scandal yelping after them. So she’d a muzzle onto them too, and could afford to laugh t’ whole lot in the face--upstairs as well as down--and follow her own fancy.’

He ruminated, chewing viciously at the straw he carried in his mouth.

‘And, as the talk goes, she’s followed it to a finish,’ he added, ‘and fixed her devil she-kite’s claws in my young lord, poor dear lad, safe enough. Is the talk true, sir?’

I answered, sadly, I feared it was so; but that, as some method might still possibly be found of unfixing those same kite’s claws, I had come in search of any information he could give.

‘Then you mean to put up a fight, sir?’ he said, his jaw hard and his eyes bright. ‘For all your colleging and your black coat, you’re o’ the same kidney as when ye rode t’ little brown horse across the fells and saved t’ pack.’

And therewith he settled down to recount all he had puzzled out, all he believed and thought. Inferential rather than circumstantial, this, alas! for the most part; yet to me valuable, from the man’s caution, honesty, power of close observation, shrewd intelligence and mother-wit. In his opinion the theft had been carried out at Fédore’s instigation, and upon her undertaking to join Marsigli as soon as it was accomplished, and fly with him to his native city of Milan. Having thus involved the Italian--whose long-standing passion for, and jealousy of her, were matters of common knowledge among the servants, Warcop said--she evidently played him false, although covering his escape by putting the police on a wrong scent. Where was he now? In England, Warcop opined, probably hiding in London, still hoping to induce Fédore to redeem her promise. Were the two man and wife? Over that Warcop shook his head. Who could say, save the two themselves? Yet, if they were, there must needs be a record of the marriage, which would have taken place during the period of my tutorship at Hover, at some time when her ladyship was in Grosvenor Square.

Here, at last, I had a definite starting-point. For the church could be found, the clergyman who performed the ceremony could be found, always supposing any such ceremony had really taken place.

I returned to Cambridge to talk everything over with the Master; and subsequently journeyed up to town, where, under seal of the strictest secrecy, I placed matters in the hands of Inspector Lavender, of the Detective Police. He must find the church, the clergyman--above all, must find Marsigli.--This was a desperate game to play. I knew it. Would the dear boy ever forgive me for interfering in his affairs thus? I knew not. But I did know it had to be risked both for his fortune and his honour’s sake. Further, was I not bound by my word solemnly given to Nellie? Still more, then, had it to be done for my own oath’s sake.