Beck Center English Dept. University Libraries Emory University
Emory Women Writers Resource Project Collections:
Women's Genre Fiction Project

An Adventuress, an electronic edition

by L.T. Meade [ Meade, L.T., 1854-1914]

date: 1899
source publisher: Chatto & Windus
collection: Genre Fiction

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CHAPTER XXVI

THAT evening the Henleys, Marryat accompanying them, arrived at the Grange. Kate looked radiant, and yet there was a pallor about her which made her face even more interesting and beautiful than it generally was. The fact is, after Marryat had left her she boldly locked the door of her sitting-room and flinging herself on a sofa had burst into a storm of weeping. Never since the moment when she had first thought out her bold and wicked scheme of substituting herself for the real Kate Bouverie had she given way to tears. These tears now came, however, with such overwhelming force that she could not resist them. At first this great torrent of weeping was accompanied with physical agony, but after a time the pain ceased and the relief began. She cried until she could cry no longer, then suddenly remembering that tears would be fatal to her appearance, put on a hat which was lying on the table near, concealed her face under a thick veil, and went out to walk up and down on the Embankment. She came back about lunch-time, and no one now noticed any traces of her great fit of weeping. But in the evening those tears had given her eyes a peculiarly pathetic expression, and had certainly taken some of the bloom from her cheeks. She looked delicate enough when she entered her aunt's presence to cause that good lady to utter an exclamation--

"Oh, my dear Kitty," said Mrs. Hume, "you | | 261 certainly do not seem at all strong. I am not surprised that your doctor has been wise enough to order you to leave England."

Mary was seated near her mother. She got up when Kate appeared, and moved towards the door. Kate intercepted her.

"How do you do, Mary?" she said. "Won't you shake hands with me?"

"Oh, how do you do?" replied Mary, in a careless voice. She took no notice of Kate's proffered hand, but left the room. Kate turned and gave her aunt a glance of well-feigned annoyance.

"What is the matter with Mary?" she said.

The mother sighed. "Take no notice of her," she answered; "the poor child is not very well; we are a little anxious, she must have change of scene; but sit near me, Kitty; it is not necessary for you to go up yet to take off your things. What is this I hear about your wishing Ethel to accompany you to Australia?"

"I very earnestly wish you would let her come with me," said Kate.

"But your uncle says that if I do you will leave Marryat behind."

"I think not--I have changed my mind about that," answered Kate slowly.

"Well, I am glad. With your large fortune it is quite unnecessary for you to do without the comforts of a maid, and if Ethel did go with you I should like Marryat to help her also."

"Of course, Aunt Susannah, Marryat shall do as much for Ethel as she does for me. Oh, do let her come; do say 'Yes.'"

"I cannot give any promise, my dear, for the | | 262 matter scarcely rests in my hands; but I know your uncle is thinking about it; you can speak to him if you like after dinner."

"I will, I will," cried Kate, springing to her feet, as she spoke. "There is no time to be lost, as if Ethel does come we must take her passage early to-morrow. I will go to my room now if you don't mind, Aunt Susannah; I want to change my dress for dinner."

As Kate was passing through the wide hall she came face to face with Mary. Mary stood and confronted her.

"Are you going on with it?" said Mary Hume, going up then to Kate and looking her full in the face.

"Going on with what, Mary?"

"You know what I mean. You know perfectly well that you are a base impostor, you are nothing better than an adventuress, there!"

"Mary!" said her father, who just then appeared on the scene, "I am very much annoyed with you; you must not speak in this way to my niece Kate Henley again."

"Oh, don't let her, uncle," said Kate; "she quite frightens me." Kate ran up to her uncle and put her arms round his neck. "Say that I am not an impostor, Uncle Robert. Mary terrifies me; what can she mean?"

"I mean exactly what I say," answered Mary, "but as the time is not yet ripe for any one to believe me, I will try and be civil to you while you remain in the house, but shake hands with you I will not."

She turned and went upstairs.

"Her mother and I are quite anxious about her, Kitty," said the lawyer, looking now into Kate's white | | 263 face, "but do not be alarmed at what she says, my dear sweet child; it is only that she herself is out of health. How pale you look, Kitty! indeed it is true you are not at all strong."

Kate went up to her room. Her interview with Mary had distressed her far more than she cared to own.

"I must not even whisper to my own heart that I am an impostor," she said to herself; "there is nothing for it now but to go through with it, but Mary's attitude makes things very trying. How glad I shall be when we are really off! She will drop that poison of hers into so many ears. She will go on repeating what for some extraordinary reason she believes to be true so often that suspicion cannot but arise, it cannot but grow. Yes, Marryat must certainly come with me, and oh, if I could only get them to put Mary into an asylum, there might be a chance of my own escape. It is a dreadful thing to do, but I must work the idea, I must. Nothing now shall or can interfere with my plans; I am Kate Henley, I was Kate Bouverie--no one shall ever discover what I have done."

Kate rang her bell and Marryat appeared. Marryat had already unpacked her mistress's things, and now asked in her demure tone what it would be Mrs. Henley's pleasure to wear at dinner.

"Choose the dress that becomes me most," said Kate in a reckless voice. "Ah, I know, I will wear the crimson lace, my crimson Spanish lace."

"Madam! but you look pale already."

"I will wear it," said Kate.

Marryat got out the dress without a word of demur. Kate knew that of all her dresses she looked more striking in this than in any other. She had got the dress | | 264 at an enormous cost, and rather at a venture, but it had turned out, as far as her appearance went, a most complete success. Marryat helped her to get into it, and laced it to the slim young figure. Kate walked up to the mirror and looked at herself.

"I am a handsome woman, am I not, Marryat?"

"You are indeed, madam."

"The sort of woman a man would love?"

"Ay, madam, just so."

"Marryat, my husband loves me, does he not?"

"Poor fellow, he worships the ground you walk on," said the maid.

"And I love him," said Kate; "he must go on loving me intensely, passionately, and my Uncle Robert must love me, and Ethel must adore me, and Mrs. Hume must think me the sweetest, prettiest creature she has ever seen ; and even you, Marryat, even you must have a spark of affection in that funny, queer heart of yours for the girl who is your mistress."

"Ay, madam, I have, I have--you are a very bewitching young lady."

"Marryat," said Kate, skipping up to her, "you shall come with me to Australia--you shall come and I will pay you, oh, so well. Will you come, Marryat, will you?"

"That I will," answered Marryat, her eyes sparkling.

"If you come, you understand?"

"What, madam? you must put it into words."

"But that's just what I hate to do. The more words I put things into, the more muddled I get. If you come you will be true to me, faithful to me in word and deed. You will think of no one in comparison with me. You will put my welfare first of all?"

"And if I do all this?" said the maid.

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"But will you? that is the question."

"I will tell you that when you say what my reward is to be."

"Ah, then you cannot care for me," said Kate impulsively; "it is a money bargain. You need not come; stay in England; I won't have you on those terms."

She turned petulantly away; the colour had risen to her cheeks, but again had faded. When her husband entered the room she turned, a pale Kate in her crimson dress, to welcome him.

Marryat left the room by one door as Henley entered by another.

"Well, Kitty," he said.

Kate ran up to him.

"Do you like me in my crimson dress?" she said; "I bought it a week ago. It was something of a spec.; do I look nice in it--the sort of Kitty you would be proud of?"

"I am always proud of you, Kate, whatever you wear," answered the young man.

There was something in his tone which caused Kate to regard him attentively.

"Why, what is wrong with you?" she said, "are you ill? You look very, very queer."

"I don't know what is the matter with me," answered Henley; "I did not feel well this morning, and I have been getting steadily worse all day. I have a horrid sore throat and a splitting headache, and I am a bit feverish."

"I will take your temperature," said Kate. "You see what a wise woman I am; I always go provided with things for an emergency. You have just got a cold, darling, nothing to make you the least bit anxious. Oh, Ralph, suppose it is discovered that you are a | | 266 little tiny bit consumptive, too, then you won't be quite so angry with your own Kitty for marrying you."

"Whatever you did I would never be angry with you," he said, and then he sank into the first chair he could find. Ordinarily he was a remarkably healthy-looking man with the bronzed and yet clear complexion of perfect health. He was a big fellow, broad shouldered, long limbed. Now he had a curious collapsed sort of appearance. The bronze in his cheeks had faded to an ashen grey, his eyes were very dull.

Kate got out her thermometer, and made him hold it in his mouth. It registered 102°.

"Then you are really ill," she cried, her eyes dilating. "You must lie down; we will send for the doctor."

"Oh no, I don't want to make a fuss," he answered; "I will dress and come down to dinner; don't say anything about it. Perhaps after I have eaten I shall feel better."

"Well, stay where you are, darling, and I will brush your hair and bathe your forehead. You don't know how much nicer you will feel when my hands are touching you."

He smiled at her, but it seemed almost an effort to do even that. Kate fussed round him, giving him that feeling of pleasure which her mere presence always provoked.

With an effort he got into his evening things and they both went downstairs. Kate's pallor, and yet her beautiful appearance in the crimson dress, prevented any one from specially noticing Henley, and as Kate sat at the same side as he did at the long dinner-table she was not able to discover whether he was eating or not. She heard his voice | | 267 as he spoke to her uncle, and his tone seemed to her to he quite as full, and strong, and joyous as ever. Once she gave a sigh of relief when she heard him give way to one of his hearty laughs.

At last the meal came to an end and the ladies withdrew into the drawing-room. They had not been there five minutes before Hume appeared. His face was quite grave.

"Where is Kate?" he said.

Mary, who was in a low chair turning over the leaves of a new magazine, raised her sulky face.

"I don't know," she answered; "it's always Kate, it seems to me, but I am not her keeper."

"Don't be silly, Mary; your affectations are past bearing," said her father in some annoyance. "There, stir yourself, make yourself useful. Henley is ill, he wants his wife; send her to the dining-room immediately."

In some astonishment, but still with marked unwillingness, Mary rose to her feet; she went out. Ethel and Kate were pacing up and down at a little distance. Kate was expatiating for the benefit of Ethel's all too willing ears on the delights of the voyage and the happy time they might hope to spend together in Australia. Mary, who guessed what they were talking about, called out now in a tone of triumph--

"Come in, Kate, you are wanted; your husband is ill."

Kate leapt away from Ethel's side almost as if some one had shot her; she rushed past Mary and ran into the house. A moment later she was kneeling by Henley's side; he was lying on the sofa, his eyes were shut, there was a slight dew on his forehead, and his brows were contracted with pain. Mr. Hume was standing near.

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"Don't be frightened, Kitty," he said, "I have sent for the doctor, but there is no doubt that Ralph is ill. He just slipped off his chair in a dead faint after you left the room. I brought him to before I called you. We will put him to bed, and the doctor, I hope, will order him something to put him right."

The doctor, a bright-looking young man of about eight-and-twenty, soon afterwards appeared. His name was Thornton. He examined the patient very critically, ordered him to bed, and helped to put him there. Kate entered the room as soon as the sick man was lying between the sheets.

"We shall want a nurse," she heard Thornton say to her uncle.

"A nurse!" said Kate. For the first time she was seriously alarmed. Was her husband, her darling, seriously ill? Was there something at the eleventh hour going to prevent her taking that trip which seemed to her her only way of salvation! She even forgot Henley in her intense anxiety about this latter fact. She ran up to the doctor.

"A nurse," she said, "for my husband? But I will nurse him."

"You can do as you please, Mrs. Henley," was the medical man's reply, "but do not raise your voice so loud; I will speak to you in another room--follow me."

Kate followed him very unwillingly. She led him into her husband's dressing-room and immediately closed the door.

"Now, what is wrong?" she said. "He has taken a chill, has he not? I told him before dinner that I was quite certain he was in for a bad cold."

"It is impossible at so early a date to say what | | 269 is really the matter," answered Dr. Thornton, "but I cannot mince facts, Mrs. Henley; your husband's condition appears to me to point to a much more serious illness than a mere cold. I shall be able to pronounce definitely as to the nature of his complaint, either to-morrow or the next day."

"To-morrow or the next day!" said Kate, stamping her foot; "but we are going to Australia on Thursday, and this is Monday night. My husband and I will have to leave here early on Thursday morning. You see there is no question of to-morrow or next day. Our passage is taken in the Hydra--ill or well, we must go."

Dr. Thornton looked attentively at the beautiful and winsome face of the eager speaker.

"How little she apprehends things!" he said to himself. Aloud, he said slowly, "I fear that I must destroy some of your hopes. There is, unless I am much mistaken, not the slightest hope of Henley's being well enough to take that voyage this week; even if his present attack leads to nothing more serious than a bad cold, he must not leave his bed for several days. The voyage must be postponed."

"What?" said Kate, "postponed?" She sank on the nearest chair, her arms fell prone at her sides, her face grew so white that for an instant the doctor thought she, too, was going to faint. He fancied that a certain word came to her lips, but he was not quite sure. He only knew that those lips had blanched to a deathly pallor, and that her whole face presented the appearance of a woman stricken to death. Did she or did she not utter the word "Doomed"? This was the thought in his heart. He could not be sure, he could never to his dying day be sure, but he certainly fancied he heard it.

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