As all admitted, the real hero of the evening was the thirteenth Duke of Devenbrook. When the rescue party reached the castle they found the boy dancing up and down on the steps in a frenzy of frustration at not having been allowed to join the pursuit; but the praises of the men and the admiring comments of Marianne restored his self-esteem, and he was delighted to explain how he had discovered the plot – too late to prevent its being carried out, but just in time to make rescue possible.
After the housekeeper had tended Marianne's bruises and wrapped her in a dozen blankets, they settled down to discuss the adventure. The Duchess alone had slept through it all, and it was unanimously agreed that she should know nothing of what had transpired.
"For it is settled now," Carlton said. "Bagshot will be some time recovering from the thrashing he received, and he knows that if he tries another trick of that nature, he will be charged and imprisoned."
His speech was not as crisp as usual, thanks to a swollen lower lip. The satisfaction with which he gazed at his scraped knuckles left Marianne in no doubt as to who had administered the thrashing referred to. Feeling that his ego was in no need of reinforcement, she turned to Henry.
"Now tell me, Your Grace, of how you discovered the plot."
"He drugged my milk," Henry explained, swelling with delight at the drama of it. "I knew he was up to something when he kept telling me to be sure I finished it; so naturally I poured it into the slop pail when his back was turned."
"You always do that with your milk, you young rascal," Carlton said, giving him an affectionate slap on the back.
"Well, but I suspected he was up to no good," the boy insisted. "He was very angry at being dismissed; I would hear him muttering to himself. I thought, perhaps he is going to steal something – Granny Honoria's jewels, or the plate. He never cared before whether I drank my milk."
"It was very clever of you," Marianne said.
The Duke beamed. "So," he resumed, "I pretended to be asleep. And I went on pretending, even when he pulled my hair and prodded me – and stuck a pin in my arm!" He cocked an eye at Marianne, who responded with an exclamation of outrage and admiration, before he resumed. "Then he opened the secret door – there is one in my bedroom, you know. He wasn't supposed to know about that, but… well, to be honest, he caught me one day. At any rate, then I was sure he was up to no good! I got up and followed him. But before I had gone far I heard him coming back, and I really had to run to get into bed before he returned. Those two frightful ruffians were with him; and I can tell you, when I saw them, I… Of course I wasn't afraid, but it made me feel very serious, I can tell you."
Carlton laughed. "If I had been in your shoes, Henry, I would have been terrified."
"Well, perhaps I was a little bit afraid. Just a little. One of them looked at me and said, 'Is the brat safe?' and Victor said I had had enough laudanum to down a grown man. Then the other man said, 'What about the girl?' and Victor said if they couldn't handle one small woman they ought to be looking for other employment, begorra."
Carlton's scraped hands clenched when he heard this. "I wish that rascal had not gotten away," he muttered. "But we'll track him down, never fear, and then… I beg your pardon, Henry. We are hanging on your words."
Though the Duke's narrative style lacked elegance, being too heavily interlarded with phrases like "Then he said," and "Then the other one said," his hearers were indeed enthralled. On hearing the words he had quoted the boy realized, with a thrill of horror, that the plot his imagination had invented had a much more serious aim than theft. It was all he could do to lie motionless until the men had left his room, by way of the secret passage. Leaping from his bed, he had had the good sense to go for help instead of trying to overcome the villains single-handed.
"I am hurt that you did not waken me," the doctor exclaimed with a look of mock reproach. "Thought I was too old and fat, eh?"
"Oh, no, sir," the Duke exclaimed. But it was clear that this was what he had thought. The doctor broke into a rumbling laugh.
"Never mind, my boy. I don't blame you. But I am glad young Roger got me up. I wouldn't have missed that chase for worlds. Made me feel twenty years younger, by Gad!"
The Duke had, in fact, gone to rouse some of the menservants. He had not known of Carlton's return, since the lawyer had only reached the castle after most of the residents had gone to bed. Reading in the library, Carlton had heard Henry rush past on his way to the servants' wing, and had gone to find out what was wrong. Though Carlton was too tactful to say so, Marianne realized that the rapid organization of the pursuit was due to him; even so, it had taken an agonizingly long time to awaken two of the grooms and get the party mounted. Henry had continued to play a leading part by going through the secret passage to Marianne's room after it was discovered that her door was locked.
Marianne groaned. "And I thought I was being so prudent!"
"It would not have mattered," Carlton assured her. "When Henry reached your room he found that the deed had been done and the villains had departed. However, there is only one road through the village and we knew they must take it; and thanks to Henry's quickness we were in time to see the carriage lights. If we had been a few minutes later, we might not have known which direction to take."
That seemed to wind up the essential parts of the story; but in deference to Henry they talked it all over a while longer and let him go into more detail about his heroism, before the doctor suggested that the victim of the kidnapping should be allowed to get the rest she needed.
Marianne was glad to obey. "I think I will take a dose of that medicine you gave me," she said, accepting the doctor's arm. "Now that it is all over, I am almost too nervous to sleep."
"Sleeping medicine?" Carlton asked alertly. "Perhaps we should all take a dose. I am keyed up myself, and so is Henry. Will you share, Miss Ransom?"
Marianne looked at his face. Shadowy bruises were now apparent, and his lip had swollen to grotesque proportions. "Are you in pain?" she asked.
"Does it look that bad?" Carlton fingered his jaw and made a wry face. "I will have to tell the Duchess I fell off my horse. What a humiliating admission."
Marianne had assumed he was joking about the medicine, but he came to her room almost immediately and repeated his request. She had not, in fact, taken any, and had almost forgotten where she had put it; but Carlton soon discovered the bottle on her dressing table and made off with it. She was sorry, after he had gone, that she had not taken a dose herself, for she was some time in falling asleep.
She woke early the next morning and dragged herself out of bed, tired though she was; for it was imperative that the Duchess should not suspect that anything had happened.
And yet, Marianne thought sadly as the day wore on, the Duchess's failure to notice Carlton's bruises and the Duke's febrile excitement was a portent of her absorption in the event that was fast drawing nigh. She accepted the news of Victor's disappearance with abnormal indifference. "I suppose he has made off with some odds and ends," was her only comment. "It is a small price to pay to be rid of him."
Carlton suggested a ride that afternoon. Marianne agreed; she was glad of the exercise and hoped for a confidential talk. In this she was disappointed. The relaxed, laughing young man who had slapped Henry on the back and called Marianne by her first name had been replaced by the old Carlton, surly and sarcastic and withdrawn.
The Duchess, too, seemed to be withdrawing a little further every day. She had acquired a habit of sitting with her head tilted, as if listening to voices the others could not hear, and she did not seem to care whether anyone was with her or not. After trying to rouse her by suggestions and amusements and receiving only vague replies such as "Whatever you like, my dear," Marianne gave up and went in search of Henry.
They spent the rest of the afternoon out of doors playing lawn tennis. This was a new sport to Marianne, who had read of it but had never played, and the Duke was delighted to play the role of teacher. They returned to the house arm in arm, and Henry, still heavy-eyed from lack of sleep the preceding night, was easily persuaded to go up to his supper and the attentions of his Nanny. The good creature was, he reported, quite delighted at the absence of M. Victor, whom she had always considered a slippery sort of foreign body, not at all the kind to look after her wee laddie.
Henry's imitation of the old lady made Marianne laugh heartily. He had a wicked gift for mimicry; she had noticed it the night before, when he parroted Victor's brogue. But when she went to her room to repair the damages of vigorous exercise, a thought occurred to her that removed her amusement. She was becoming quite fond of Henry and was inclined to attribute his weaknesses of character to overindulgence and lack of discipline; but there was no denying the boy had a mischievous streak and that he was quite intelligent enough to plan complicated tricks. The weird whispering voice at the last seance could well have been Henry's, and he was too young to comprehend what a terrible effect it might have.
The evening passed without incident, except that once again Marianne enjoyed a brief comforting talk with Dr. Gruffstone. She had always found the doctor helpful, even when he seemed suspicious of her; he radiated reliability and authority as a stove radiates warmth. On this occasion she felt that he was really beginning to consider her a friend, for he spoke, as he had never done before, of personal matters, especially of his son, who would soon be coming home. Though obviously proud of the young man's gallantry, he had nothing but criticism for the way matters had been handled in Afghanistan; he denounced the fighting there with his favorite phrase, "absolute balderdash!"
As Marianne started upstairs she heard the click of billiard balls from the room devoted to that entertainment and surmised that Carlton was working off whatever annoyed him in a typically masculine manner. He had hardly spoken all evening.
If she dreamed that night, she did not remember the dreams. But she woke with a strange feeling of heaviness and lay pondering the matter for some time before she realized what was troubling her. Today was Tuesday. The fateful anniversary was only three days off.
When she went to pay her morning call on the Duchess, she found her up and dressing, with the faithful Rose in attendance. The maid had evidently conquered her grief, but she had not gotten over her resentment of Marianne; her greeting was barely civil. The Duchess did not seem to notice.
"Enjoy the sunshine while it lasts, my child," she murmured. "It is all too brief…"
So Marianne left. Henry was lying in wait for her in the breakfast room. He barely allowed her time to eat before he demanded a repetition of the lawn-tennis game.
"A few more days of practice and you will be quite good at it," he remarked patronizingly. "For a girl, that is. Do hurry. I have been waiting ever so long."
Having nothing better to do, Marianne passed the morning with him. They returned to the house in time to see a hired carriage leaving. Henry craned his neck to see who was inside.
"My new tutor, I expect," he said. "Grandmother Honoria said one would be coming. That means I shall have only a few more days of holiday, Miss Ransom; we had better have another practice this afternoon."
"Impossible," Marianne said, laughing. "You know I am not as young as you; I have done quite enough for one day."
They were standing by the front steps, and as Henry argued his case Marianne fancied she saw a curtain in one of the upper windows move aside and a face peer out. Whether she was correct in identifying it she did not know; but it reminded her of poor timid Lady Violet, and she interrupted Henry with a firm "No, I really cannot. As for you, you ought to spend some time with your dear mama. That should be a pleasure as well as a duty."
"Oh." Henry thought a moment. "All right. She likes to read to me, and I don't mind it much… Thank you for your company, Miss Ransom. We must do it again sometime."
With a very dignified bow, he offered his arm and led her into the house.
The Duchess did not come down to luncheon, but Marianne found the doctor and Lady Annabelle deep in conversation. Lady Annabelle had taken advantage of the Duchess's absence to introduce several cats into the room, and Marianne was amused at the doctor's calm forbearance; he devoured his lunch quite unperturbed by the chorus of meows and by the sight of his namesake's tail waving like a banner above the edge of the table.
They were on the second course when the door opened and Carlton came in. He was wearing riding clothes and seemed to be in a particularly evil temper; with a sketchy bow toward Lady Annabelle and a gruff greeting to the others, he threw himself into a chair and demanded food.
The doctor stared at him in mild surprise. "Where have you been all morning? I had intended to challenge you to a game of billiards."
"I had an errand," Carlton replied, stabbing viciously at the piece of sole the footman had placed before him.
"Satisfactory, I hope?"
"Not at all."
The doctor raised his eyebrows and then turned to Lady Annabelle, inquiring politely about the health of Fluffy.
Since Marianne was not especially interested in Fluffy's health she ate in silence, wondering what Carlton was up to. He had taken several mysterious journeys lately. No doubt, she thought cynically, he is trying to find out something to my discredit.
Lady Annabelle never followed conventional social usage, and this occasion was no exception. Instead of giving the nods and winks that indicated to the ladies that it is time to retire, she rose abruptly midway through the last course. Remarking, "You are in a wretched mood, Carlton; you are making Horace the cat quite nervous; I shall go now," she took her departure, with the spoiled Horace in her arms. Caught unawares, Marianne started to rise too, but was waved back into her chair by the doctor.
"No need for ceremony," he grunted. "Eat your meal, child. What the dev- er – what is wrong with you, Roger? You may not be affecting that animal's nerves, but you are doing mine no good."
"Sorry." Carlton pushed his plate away. "To be candid, Gruffstone, I have taken a certain liberty and I don't know how you will react. I hope you will not be offended."
"What have you done?" the doctor inquired calmly.
"I have summoned Sir Walter Bliss to see the Duchess."
Carlton dropped the words like bullets and looked as if he expected an explosion to follow. Instead, after a look of unconcealed astonishment, the doctor's face broke into a broad smile.
"Splendid, my boy, splendid! How did you persuade Honoria to see him? I have been trying for months."
"I have not yet told her. I thought she could not send him away after he had come so far on her account."
"That was well thought of." The doctor tugged thoughtfully at his mustache. "It never occurred to me. Well – fools rush in, if you will forgive me, my boy. I could not be more pleased." Seeing Marianne's bafflement, he explained, "Sir Walter is probably the best heart specialist in England. I am mightily relieved to have a second opinion, I can tell you. When does he come?"
"This afternoon. I learned from an article in the Times that he was to be in Edinburgh this week, so I sent a telegram. I have just now received the answer."
"Splendid, splendid," the doctor repeated. "Who knows, perhaps he will have good news for us. I am only a simple general practitioner; I could be wrong. I hope I am."
Carlton seemed to be cast into even greater gloom by this genial pronouncement. Marianne waited until the doctor had left, to prepare for the visit of the specialist; then she said, "I suppose you will not care to ride this afternoon."
"Not with Sir Walter expected. I wish to hear what he has to say."
"You have no objection if I go alone?"
"Suit yourself," was the ungracious reply.
The dignified butler, obviously confused by the unconventional division of the luncheon party, brought in the port. Carlton gestured for his glass to be filled, and Marianne left him with the decanter before him.
Thinking Henry might like to join her in a ride, she went to the schoolroom. Nanny, nodding by the fire, told her the boy was with his mother, so Marianne was forced to request the company of one of the grooms. The menace from Bagshot had been removed, but she had not forgotten the Duchess's warning about getting lost.
The presence of the manservant, trotting respectfully behind her, took some of the pleasure from the ride and she cut it short, returning by way of the village. If she hoped to catch a glimpse of the vicar she was disappointed; but she did see something that surprised her – the black-clad visitor whom Carlton had suspected of being Bagshot in disguise. As on the previous occasion, he was walking away from her. Marianne urged Stella into a trot, hoping to overtake the man and see his face, but before she could catch him up he turned into the inn and disappeared. So she returned to the castle.
The Duchess's carriage, waiting before the castle, made her wonder who was about to go on a journey before she realized that it must have been sent to fetch the famous medical man. Handing her reins to the groom and giving Stella an affectionate pat, she hurried in. She found Carlton in the library, pacing back and forth between the open door and the fireplace.
"What news?" she asked. "He has come, has he not? I saw the carriage -"
"He is with her now. I am waiting to catch him before he goes; he must return immediately to Edinburgh."
Marianne was tempted to join him in his agitated walk, but forced herself to take a chair.
"By the way," she remarked, "the gentleman who was staying at the Devenbrook Arms is still here. He was not Mr. Bagshot after all."
"I know. You were right in supposing that Bagshot would not venture into the neighborhood. The preliminary work was all done by his hired cutthroats; he did not come until the final hour."
His tone made it clear that he had nothing more to say on that subject, so Marianne did not break the silence again. It went on for quite some time before they heard footsteps and low voices, one that of Dr. Gruff-stone, the other unfamiliar.
Carlton bolted out the door without bothering to close it. Marianne remained where she was; she did not feel she had the right to intrude on such a meeting. However, she listened intently, and when she heard the front door open and close, she ran out.
Carlton was alone. He stood with his back toward her, but she did not need to see his face to know that the news had been bad. The droop of his shoulders, his hands clenched on the newel post, were eloquent enough.
She had not realized until then how much he had hoped for a reversal of Gruffstone's diagnosis. As she stood staring at Carlton, who had obviously not heard her approach, and wishing she dared comfort him, the front door opened and Gruffstone entered.
"I have seen Sir Walter off," he explained. "And thanked him again for coming so far."
"Then -" Marianne began.
Gruffstone shook his head. "He was kind enough to commend my medical knowledge. It was small comfort to me, I assure you. Excuse me; I must go to her now."
He went heavily up the stairs. Carlton straightened but did not turn, and something in the set of his shoulders told Marianne she had better not speak to him. So she went to her room and wept.
Later the Duchess summoned her, and Marianne was struck by the fact that of all the people in the house the dying woman seemed least concerned with her fate. The Duchess was, in fact, in a cheerful mood, which was explained when she remarked casually, "I have seen David. He does not seem to have aged at all, but then that is to be expected."
Rose, arranging the tea-things, dropped a saucer.
"Take yourself off, you clumsy creature," the Duchess said amiably. "After all these years, one would think…"
"You dreamed," Marianne said, as poor Rose stumbled toward the door.
"Oh, yes; that is the common term for such visions." After the door had closed she added rather irritably, "I find Rose a trial of late. If she is not dropping things, she is crying."
"She is devoted to you," Marianne said. "And, like the rest of us, she is deeply concerned -"
"But why? I am happier now than I have been for many years. If you could only have faith! Gruffstone particularly – he is a medical man, he of all people should be able to accept the fact that I must die sometime."
"But not now!" Marianne exclaimed. "You are willing yourself to die! You might live for months, years -"
"I don't want to," the Duchess said simply. "I want only one thing – the knowledge that David will be there to guide me over the threshold." Suddenly and alarmingly the look of peace faded from her face and was replaced by an expression of a most pitiful terror. "My faith is weak," she said rapidly. "I am afraid – I confess it. I know what awaits me, I believe in Paradise… but my body trembles in the fear of dissolution. If I could see David, feel his hand reaching out for me… You won't deny me that, Marianne? You could not be so cruel. Promise – promise me -"
In her agitation she struggled forward, and Marianne realized in horror that she was about to fall to her knees. She caught the thin, shaking shoulders and forced the Duchess back into her chair.
"I will promise anything you like. Anything. Be calm, I beg you. You have my word."
"Thank you." After a few seconds Marianne felt the old woman's rigid limbs relax.
"I will fetch Dr. Gruffstone," she said.
"No." The Duchess forced a smile. "I am better now. Horace can do me no good. You alone can help me. You have helped me."
"A glass of brandy, then," Marianne said desperately.
"A cup of tea will be splendid." The Duchess brushed her hand across her brow and spoke in almost her normal voice. "There. I am quite myself again. Let us eat all those delicious little cakes and drink our tea and have a game of backgammon. What do you say?"
Marianne felt as if the rich pastry would make her sick, and she went down to ignominious defeat in the game. The Duchess ignored her mood. She laughed and ate and moved the pieces with her old animation. To Marianne the spectacle was dreadful. The promise she had made lay like a heavy weight on her heart.
She knew now that she had clung to the hope that she would not be forced to go through the next – perhaps the last – attempt to reach the spirit of David Holmes; that the Duchess would not ask it of her, that Gruffstone would forbid it, that Carlton would think of some means of preventing it. Now she was committed. That agonized plea could not be denied. Only how on earth could she produce the evidence the Duchess longed for? Should she attempt to produce it by trickery? It seemed that whatever she did was bound to be disastrous.
The Duchess decided to dine in her room, and Marianne did the same. She simply could not face the glum looks of the two men, or Lady Annabelle's idiot indifference. After she had crumbled her bread and pushed the food around her plate, she decided to see what Henry was doing. Perhaps she could read him a story, or play chess with him.
She was wearing soft house slippers and her feet fell lightly on the carpet of the corridor. As she approached the door of the schoolroom, she saw light and realized that the door was open. Standing unseen in its shadow she beheld the scene within.
Lady Violet sat by the fire. For once she wore no veil or cap, and her hair was pushed back from her face, which wore a look of such peace and happiness that to Marianne it appeared quite beautiful, despite its physical defect. Perched on a stool by the lady's side, leaning against her skirts, sat the young Duke. He was reading aloud to her, and her hand rested lightly on his dark hair.
"So the prince said, 'Oh, lovely lady, I have been searching throughout my kingdom for a maiden who can wear this slipper.' "
Marianne felt tears prick her eyes. Pressing her skirts close to her sides, so that no betraying rustle would give her presence away, she retreated as silently as she had come.
Next day Marianne had to force herself to pay her usual morning call on the Duchess. One of the worst features of the whole affair was the growing ambivalence of her attitude toward her kind patroness, for she felt an increasing resentment, almost anger, at being forced into such an impossible position. She made her escape as soon as she could.
Henry was waiting for her, and they had another strenuous game of lawn tennis. Marianne finally called a halt when her fingers, in their thin kid gloves, became too numb to hold the racket. The day was much colder than the one before, and toward the end of the morning the sunlight vanished behind rolling gray clouds.
"It looks like snow." Henry said gleefully. "We will build a snow fort and go sledding. I know a splendid place for it."
Marianne was amused at the boy's bland assumption that she had become his permanent playmate. There was no reason to disillusion him, she thought; reality would come soon enough, in the form of a new tutor, for the Duchess had told her she expected to interview another candidate that morning.
Looking for something to distract her mind from the dread event that was coming even closer, she lingered in the hall hoping to catch a glimpse of the prospective tutor. Any new face would be a welcome change.
She was about to give up and go to her room to change when the door of the library opened and Carlton appeared. He gave an exaggerated start of surprise at seeing her and exclaimed, "Oh, there you are. I was about to… that is… where have you been?"
Marianne gazed at him in astonishment. His incoherent speech, his flushed face, and a certain air of suppressed excitement immediately aroused the suspicion that he had been drinking. Before she could answer he took her by the arm and fairly dragged her into the library.
"This is Mr. MacGregor," he said, indicating the young man who had politely risen from his chair. "Miss Ransom, Mr. MacGregor. Perhaps you would – er – entertain him, I must… I must go on an errand."
Upon which he rushed out, leaving Marianne staring. An amused chuckle from Mr. MacGregor made her turn.
"What an excitable, enthusiastic fellow!" he exclaimed. "But I can't complain of the change; may I offer you a chair, Miss Ransom?"
Marianne sat down. Mr. MacGregor must be the newest applicant for the position of tutor, she decided.
She took an immediate liking to him. He was a tall young man with an open, freckled face. One of his front teeth was chipped, giving his smile a boyish, lopsided charm. His speech was educated, with just a trace of Scottish burr.
"What was that all about?" she asked, nodding at the door through which Carlton had disappeared.
"I cannot imagine. We were talking about this and that, when all at once he bounded up and rushed away. I take it he is not always so impulsive? It is an attractive quality in itself, but I should think it would be a disadvantage in a man of the law."
His eyes twinkled with such frank amusement that Marianne could not help smiling. "I take it," she said, "that you are the new tutor."
"I hope I may be. The position appeals to me very much. My home is in Sterling, only an hour's ride away, and I have a widowed mother who would like to have me so close. Also, I find the Duke a most appealing little chap. There is a good brain there; it would be a challenge to work with it."
Marianne liked him more and more. The enthusiasm glowing in his eyes was that of a dedicated teacher.
"You know of His Grace's – difficulty?" she inquired.
"Yes, the Duchess was very candid with me. It merely makes me more eager to take the position. Epilepsy is a much misunderstood illness. I was a medical student before I turned to teaching, so I feel I can be of help there."
"Why did you give it up? It is a noble profession."
"Healing the body? Certainly! But healing the mind, developing its gifts, is surely just as important. Besides," he added, with a grin, "I had no aptitude for medicine. Every time a knife cut into human flesh, living or not, I fainted dead away. It got to be a joke, and my fellow students enjoyed dragging me out of the room by my heels, but the professors began to be irritated by my crashing down unconscious in the middle of their demonstrations. So I gave it up."
Marianne was enjoying the conversation, and would have gone on with it, had not the ringing of the luncheon bell reminded her of the time.
"Are you joining us for lunch?" she asked.
"No, I thank you." MacGregor rose. "I have a cold ride ahead of me, and the weather threatens. I hope we may meet again, Miss Ransom."
"I hope so too," Marianne said sincerely.
She went in to luncheon and immediately demanded of Carlton what Mr. MacGregor's prospects were. "I liked him very much," she declared. "I think he would be good for Henry."
"Do you indeed," said Carlton, with a malevolent look. "You favor freckles and a Scottish burr, then?"
"I was not speaking of his personal attributes," Marianne said in a dignified manner. "But of his qualifications for the post."
"The Duchess was most impressed with him," Dr. Gruffstone said, forestalling another rude comment from the lawyer.
His efforts to keep the conversation pleasant were in vain, however. Carlton was in a perverse mood and kept interjecting remarks that seemed designed to be inflammatory. He contradicted almost everything that was said, and found matter for insult in the most innocuous subjects. He even provoked the doctor by derogatory remarks about his profession.
"After all," he said, at one point, "it has been a good many years since you qualified, doctor. 'Thirty-eight, was it not?"
"You mean to make me an old fogy, do you," said the doctor, with perfect good humor. "No, no, my lad; 'forty-five was the year. A long time, but not so long as you would have."
"Where did you study?" Carlton asked.
The doctor looked surprised at his inquisitorial tone, but replied readily enough, "I took my degree in London, after studying for several years in Edinburgh."
"Ah, Edinburgh."
"A beautiful city," the doctor said reminiscently.
"With such wonderful people. Major Weird, Deacon Brodie, Burke and Hare…"
"Come now," the doctor protested. "Is that how the legal mind operates? To define a charming old city in terms of the murderers who plied their trade there? If so, I am glad I think otherwise."
"But Burke and Hare were in your own profession, Doctor," said Carlton, leaning back in his chair.
This sally finally pierced the doctor's armor. "What an outrageous thing to say!"
"Well, at least their friend Dr. Knox was. He bought the bodies from them." Carlton closed his eyes and began to chant,
" 'Up the close and doun the stair, But and ben wi' Burke and Hare. Burke's the butcher, Hare's the thief, Knox the boy that buys the beef.' "
"Knox was never charged," said the doctor, red as a turkeycock. "The whole dreadful situation would never have arisen had it not been for the antiquated laws forbidding medical students to obtain cadavers for dissection. How can a surgeon possibly learn -"
"What?" Marianne exclaimed in disgust. The sense of the discussion had finally become clear to her. "Surely, gentlemen, this is not a suitable subject for luncheon conversation."
"I quite agree, Miss Ransom," the doctor said. "And I beg your pardon for my part in it."
"But wouldn't you think Dr. Knox might have noticed that some of the corpses were still warm when they were delivered to him?" Carlton inquired sweetly.
Marianne made a protesting sound and fled from the room, followed by the doctor's indignant response.
During the afternoon the snow began. Delicate, fragile white flakes drifted against the windowpanes and danced in the wind. Marianne took a book and went to the rose parlor, which was the most cheerful room in the bleak old place on such a day. Tired after a hard morning's exercise and a disturbed day, she was drowsing over the pages of Carlyle's French Revolution when the butler announced a caller.
"Mr. St. John, miss."
Marianne rose and tried to smooth her hair.
"I am afraid I woke you," the vicar said, advancing with outstretched hand.
"I am glad you did. I ought to have been improving my mind instead of dozing. The Duchess is in her room, Mr. St. John; shall I ring and -"
"I asked to see you. You do not mind?" Still holding her hand, he stood so close that with her disadvantage of height Marianne had to crane her neck at an uncomfortable angle in order to meet his eyes. He appeared very serious.
"No, no, of course… I am happy to see you. Would you care for tea, or sherry, or-"
She made as if to tug on the bellpull. St. John forestalled her.
"I want nothing, except your attention. I did intend to pay Her Grace a pastoral visit, but I was denied. Is it true that she is sinking fast?"
"Who told you that?"
"Gruffstone and Carlton." The vicar smiled faintly. "Two faithful dragons, guarding her door. Faithful, but oh, how terribly, tragically misled! Now of all times does she need the consolation only I – that is, only my Master, through me, His humble servant – can give."
Marianne indicated a chair, but he refused with an agitated shake of his head. So she sat down, thinking that in this case Carlton and the doctor had acted correctly. The vicar's brand of salvation was not suited to the Duchess even when she was in good health, and she needed no more reminders that her end was near.
"You have done all you could," she said. "Please sit down and let me give you a cup of tea. You are upset -"
"Upset!" The vicar whirled and crossed the space that separated them in a single bound, his coattails flying out like the wings of a big black bird. Marianne was so startled that she emitted a faint yelp of alarm. Before she could do more the vicar took her by the shoulders – it seemed to be a favorite gesture of his – and lifted her clean out of her chair. Holding her at arm's length, with the tips of her slippers barely touching the floor, he cried out, "Yes, I am upset! I confess it. But I will not yield. I will snatch one brand from the burning. Miss Ransom, will you… No, I will not ask, I will command – purely in my pastoral capacity, of course. Miss Ransom, you must be mine!"
Marianne could only conclude that she had lost her wits, or that the vicar had lost his. One of them must be mad.
Seeing her consternation, St. John grew calmer. "I have frightened you," he said.
Marianne nodded dumbly.
"My zeal overcame me." St. John lowered her into her chair. But then he lifted her again, having transferred his grasp from her shoulders to her waist. "I do not ask this," he explained carefully, "out of selfish lust."
"Oh, indeed?" Marianne had at last recovered her breath. She put her hands against the young man's chest and pushed. For all the effect this had she might have been pushing at a stone.
"No," St. John said. "I do it in order to save a soul. You are doomed to perdition, my dear Miss Ransom, if you remain here.
I offer you sanctuary – redemption – everlasting bliss! I realize the ambiguities of your position: your doubtful heritage, your lack of a dowry, your scandalous past. I overlook them. At heart you are honest, I am sure. We will leave this house at once. I will take you to an aged relative of mine, where you will remain until the wedding."
Throughout this speech his actions had been somewhat at variance with his lofty sentiments; for his arms clasped Marianne closer and closer and he made a very determined effort to reach her lips with his.
Sad to say, Marianne's reaction was not indignation or the sense of spiritual shame the vicar had hoped to inspire. It was, simply and solely, boredom. She wondered how she could have gone out of her way to catch a glimpse of this singularly dull, pompous young man.
Finally, realizing that she was losing ground in her effort to keep him from kissing her, she freed one hand and slapped his face as hard as she could. St. John let her go. Nursing his wounded cheek with one hand, he stared at her in shocked surprise.
"You are distraught," he suggested.
"I am insulted – and amused. Let me advise you, Mr. St. John, the next time you propose to a lady, do not begin by listing all her negative qualities. Can you find your way out, or shall I ring for Jenkins to show you out?"
St. John found his own way out.
Marianne collapsed into a chair. She did not know whether she wanted to laugh or cry or swear. She was only certain of one thing: what a blessing it was that Carlton had not come in upon that dreadful, farcical scene!
Even as the thought came to her mind a voice remarked, "Very nicely done, upon my word. I would not have believed you had it in you."
Carlton's head appeared above the back of the sofa.
"You listened!" Marianne cried furiously. "You are the most disgusting – the most reprehensible -"
She was so angry she stumbled over the last word, pronouncing it "rehensibubble," and Carlton burst out laughing. Marianne fled, her hands pressed to her burning cheeks.
After that misadventure it was time to force herself to face the Duchess.
At first all went smoothly. The Duchess appeared bright and calm. They spoke of Mr. MacGregor, and Marianne expressed her enthusiastic approval. The Duchess agreed. She had one more candidate to interview next day, but unless he proved to be extraordinary she thought the nod must go to the young Scot.
When Marianne rose to dress for dinner, the Duchess caught her hand and, with a startling change in manner and tone, said, "You have not forgotten? You will keep your word? It will not be long now…"
"I know." The fingers clasping hers were so thin and cold they felt like fleshless bone. Marianne repressed a shudder. "I – I will do my best. Are you not coming downstairs tonight?"
"No, I think not. I am a little tired. I want to save my strength for tomorrow." The Duchess smiled – a strange, shadowy smile. "We will have a grand dinner party and all dress in our best. Won't that be splendid?"
"Yes, indeed," Marianne managed to say. When she was outside the room she wiped her fingers with a fold of her skirt; but the icy touch still lingered on her flesh.