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Amethyst Cross

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<h4>CHAPTER XVIII</h4> <h5>LADY CHARVINGTON'S ACCUSATIONS</h5> While Lesbia was thus having so miserable a time, George Walker was living very quietly, sometimes in London, but more often in Medmenham. He carefully avoided all mention of Lesbia's name, and when his mother questioned him regarding his reason for refusing to renew the engagement he declined to explain. Mrs. Walker was much annoyed by what she termed his mule-headedness as, after her visit to Rose Cottage, she was quite willing that Lesbia should become her daughter-in-law. "I cannot understand you, George," said Mrs. Walker to her son during one of their frequent wrangles. "When I objected to this girl, nothing would do but that you must marry her. Now that I have taken a fancy to her, you refuse to have anything to do with her. I never thought a son of mine would blow hot and cold in this silly fashion." "I am not blowing hot or cold," returned George gloomily; he was very, very gloomy in those days and had lost all his light-heartedness. "Lesbia is the only girl in the world that I care to marry. But how can I make her my wife, when I haven't a penny to keep her with?" "That is mere evasion. Things are very little changed from the time you would have married her in the teeth of poverty." "There is this much change, that I have lost my situation with Tait and am now living on my mother, which is the meanest thing a man can do. How then can I renew my engagement with Lesbia?" "Because I wish you to," said Mrs. Walker promptly, and bent her black brows. "I understood you hated her." "Indeed, I never did," she rejoined sharply. "How could I hate anyone whom I had never seen? Don't be a fool, George. I certainly hated her father and I hate him still, for a very good reason, which it does not concern you to know. But after I saw the girl I repented that I had not been to see her before, since you loved her. She is an innocent darling, and I should like no one better for my daughter. It would be unfair to visit the sins of the father on so sweet a child." "Yet if the child wasn't sweet," said George drily, "you would not mind doing so. You are somewhat inconsistent." "I am not so inconsistent as you are," said his mother, skilfully avoiding a reply by carrying the war into hic camp. "What I wish to know is--why do you decline to renew your engagement?" "I have no money and no situation." "That isn't the true reason. "It is the sole reason which I choose to give." "There is no necessity to be rude, George," said Mrs. Walker with great dignity. "Cannot you get another situation?" "Not easily. Tait will give me no references, nor do I care to ask him for any. Situations are hard to get without references." Mrs. Walker clasped her strong, white hands together and frowned. "It is quite absurd that my son and the son of your father should be a mere clerk in the City," she burst out. "Can't you do something better?" "No," replied George gloomily. "I am not clever, and I have not been brought up to any trade." "Trade! Trade! My son in trade." George was sad enough at heart, yet could not forbear smiling at the horror expressed on her countenance. "There is nothing disgraceful in trade," he remarked quietly. "My grandfather Morse was a merchant." "And your grandfather Casterton was an earl," snapped Mrs. Walker. "There's your uncle, the present owner of the title. Why not go to him, and see if he cannot assist you?" "And when I ask him, what excuse can I make?" "He is your uncle: he has every right to assist you." "I fear he might not see things in the same light, mother. Besides I have no qualifications." George paused, then added gloomily: "An out-of-door colonial life would suit me. Give me enough to get to Canada or Australia, mother, and there I can carve my way." "What about me?" asked Mrs. Walker reproachfully. "I would make a home for you beyond the seas and you can come out later." Mrs. Walker shook her head. "I am too old to travel so far," she said grimly, "moreover, I intend to wait until I get the fortune of my sister. She is dead: I am sure from what Walter Hale says that there is no child, so in the end Jabez must give me the fifty thousand pounds. That money would put all things right: your marriage included." "Not with Lesbia," said the young man colouring. "There is no chance of our coming together. Besides, to get the money you must find that cross." "Nothing of the sort," said his mother quickly, "Jabez only requires its production by a possible child, as a means of identification, a very silly idea I call it. But he knows that I am Judith Morse, and so by my father's will inherit, now that my sister is dead." George shook his head doggedly. "I believe that you will never get the fortune until that cross is found." "Then find it." "I can't. I have tried my best to learn who assaulted me and robbed this cottage, but I am still in the dark." This ended the conversation for the time being. But as the days went by Mrs. Walker still continued to express her disgust at George's obstinacy regarding Lesbia. She knew that he still loved the girl, and could not think why he should refuse to renew the engagement in the face of Lesbia's letter. Of course the excuse of having no situation was rubbish, so Mrs. Walker decided, as Lesbia was willing to marry him without one penny. If he truly loved her, as she did him, poverty would be no bar. When was poverty ever a bar to the union of two young hearts? Even admitting that George wanted to provide a home before renewing the engagement, he surely could have seen Lesbia and explained his reasons for behaving as he was doing. But he never went near Marlow, and refused to mention her name. As Mrs. Walker, being as obstinate as her son, insisted on discussing his unfortunate love affair, and wrangling over the same, George took to remaining for days in London on the plea that he was looking for work. Time thus passed very miserably for the grim widow. One day George came down with the news that he had received a note from Lord Charvington, asking him to call at The Court, Maidenhead. Why he should wish to see him George could not guess, as he had never met him. But in the letter Charvington said that he had been a friend of Aylmer Walker, and so desired the interview. Mrs. Walker was also puzzled. She was well acquainted with Lord Charvington, but after her scampish husband's death she had kept away from the former society she frequented, on account of her poverty. All the same, she advised George to keep the appointment, which was made for the next day, if only to hear what Charvington had to talk about. It was strange, a coincidence in fact, that Lady Charvington's motor should stop on the afternoon of that very day at the gate of the Medmenham cottage. Never before to George's knowledge had his mother mentioned Lord Charvington's name, yet on the very day when it was on her lips, because of the letter, the wife of the nobleman arrived to pay a visit. Why she should do so was not quite clear, and Mrs. Walker entered the drawing-room with a frown. She and her sister Kate had been school-girls together, and she had never approved of the lady. Her greeting was very cold. "How are you, Helen?" she said, extending the tips of her fingers. "It is a surprise to see you in my humble abode." "I would have called before, only I knew that you did not wish to see me, Judith," said Lady Charvington, sinking gracefully into the nearest arm-chair; "but I have come on business." Mrs. Walker sat also, and folded her hands on the lap of her black dress with her usual grim smile. "Of course, I knew that you would not waste your valuable time in coming for nothing. But what business you can have with me I fail to see. We were never good friends, and you positively hated Kate because she was prettier than you." "She never was," said Lady Charvington hotly, and glanced in the silver-framed hand-mirror, which stood on the table at her elbow. "Kate had not my complexion, nor my hair." "Nor your nasty temper," snapped Mrs. Walker, who felt extremely nasty herself; "but I don't know why we should talk of good looks at our age." "I am not old, Judith: you are older than I am." "Quite so, and I wear ever so much better. You look twice your age." Lady Charvington made a face. "You were always a disagreeable girl," she pouted, "I daresay I am growing no younger, but you need not tell me so. As to my looks, if you were as worried as I am, you would not look your best either. So I--who is that?" she inquired as George, ignorant that his mother had a visitor, tapped at the French window of the drawing-room. "My son George," said Mrs. Walker, rising to admit him. "Oh!" cried Lady Charvington vivaciously. "Lesbia's George." "My son, Lady Charvington," said Mrs. Walker, introducing the pair. "George, this is an old friend of mine." Lady Charvington looked at the splendidly handsome young man and secretly envied her hostess. Neither of her children was so good-looking, and moreover, what she always regretted, she had provided no heir to the title. "So you are Lesbia's George," she said again, not offering her hand, but putting up her lorgnette. "Well, the girl has taste." George coloured under her impertinent gaze and at the sudden mention of Lesbia. He no more expected Lady Charvington to mention the girl than he had expected she would arrive on the very day when her name had first been mentioned in the cottage--that is, her husband's name. "What do you know of Lesbia, Lady Charvington?" he asked, taking a chair. She gave an artificial laugh. "Nothing very creditable." The young man started and grew an angry red. Mrs. Walker frowned, and making a sign that her son should be silent, spoke for him. "What do you mean by running down the girl, Helen? Let me tell you that Lesbia's name must be mentioned in this house only with respect." "Oh, I know that she loves your son, and that he loves her--unfortunately." "Why so?" asked George very directly, and still red with anger. He was beginning to dislike this pretty, perfumed, dainty woman, who looked as frivolous as his mother was stately. "Because she is, I shrewdly suspect, a--a----" Lady Charvington hesitated, for the young man looked so angry, and Mrs. Walker so grim, that she feared to bring out the hateful word. "Well, the fact is," she rattled on, "I have lost an amethyst cross, and I believe this Lesbia Hale has taken it." "An amethyst cross," repeated George, astonished, too much so in fact to repel the accusation against Lesbia with the promptitude he wished. "A cross consisting of four amethyst stones with a green cube of malachite in the centre bearing a crown, and inscribed 'Refuse and Lose'?" "Yes." Lady Charvington was astonished. "Do you know it?" "Of course I do. It belongs to me." "To you. Impossible. It is, as I believe the property of Lord Charvington, and was stolen with other jewels from The Court a few days ago." "But how did it get to The Court--how did it come into your possession?" "It came into my possession a few weeks ago. I entered the library during my husband's absence and found this cross on his table. Wondering why he had such a jewel, and thinking that he had bought it for me, I took it to my room. Charvington went away before I could speak to him about it and never made any inquiries--strange to say--as to its being taken away, I placed it in my jewel case, and forgot all about it. Then my case was stolen by two London thieves a few days ago, and the cross also." "You declared that Lesbia stole it," said Mrs. Walker grimly, "and now you say that two thieves----" "Lesbia was in league with them." George sprang to his feet. "That's wholly false, Lady Charvington. That is----" he became aware of his rudeness and stammered, "you--you must be mistaken." "I am never mistaken," said the visitor in icy tones. "Your son has not very good manners, Judith." "They are my manners," said Mrs. Walker fiercely, "and don't you find fault with them. He has only said what I intended to say, only more politely." Before Lady Charvington could snap out a reply, George, now very pale, intervened. "Perhaps, madam, you will explain upon what grounds you base this charge against Miss Hale." "Oh, certainly," rejoined Lady Charvington sharply, "the whole world might know what I have to say, and the whole world would," she added spitefully, "only my husband, who seems to have taken a fancy to this girl, has hushed up the matter." "He has more sense than you have," muttered Mrs. Walker, "badly as he treated----" she checked herself with a side glance at George, "but that is neither here nor there. Go on, Helen, and explain." Lady Charvington, in order to make George writhe--for she saw that he loved Lesbia deeply, and resented the fact--was only too ready to give details of the robbery at The Court with all the venom of which her very bitter tongue was capable. She related everything that had happened from the hour of Lesbia's arrival, to the moment of her departure. "And in disgrace," ended the lady exultingly, "certainly private disgrace, since for some silly reason Charvington made me hold my tongue, but disgrace nevertheless. Now what do you think?" "Think"--George, standing with a white face and clenched hands, took the words out of his mother's mouth--"I think that you are a very wicked woman, Lady Charvington. Lesbia is as innocent as a dove." "I know nothing of the morals of doves," retorted Lady Charvington coolly, "but you seem to forget that I stated how this girl's father was one of the thieves. Who the other one was I can't say, but Lesbia certainly recognised her father. Bertha, my maid, heard her exclamation, while she was lying half stunned on the floor." "I am not astonished," said Mrs. Walker bitterly. "Walter Hale is capable of all things, although I did not know that he would descend quite so low. I never liked him as you did, Helen." "Leave the past alone," said Lady Charvington with an angry gesture; "but you can see that this Lesbia creature was her father's accomplice." "Speak more respectfully of Lesbia if you please," said George in a cold white fury. "She is perfectly innocent, and knew no more of her father's wickedness than----" "Than you did, I suppose." "You are wrong. I knew some weeks ago, that Walter Hale had to do with a gang of thieves." "George," cried his mother aghast; "you never told me." "There was no need to," he said quickly, "I know that Hale, acting by Tait's orders, stole the jewels from----" "Was this why you broke your engagement with Lesbia, or rather why you would not renew it?" "That was the reason," said George awkwardly. Mrs. Walker stood up sternly. "Then you believe that Lesbia is an accomplice." "No, I don't. My reason is different." "You refuse to marry the daughter of a thief perhaps," said Lady Charvington mockingly. "I do not. My reason--never mind. I can explain my reason to Lesbia when I see her," said George, standing very straight and looking very determined. "You intend to see her, then?" asked his mother. "This very evening." "I shall come also," said Mrs. Walker quickly. "If that is so," drawled Lady Charvington, "perhaps you will ask her what she has done with the cross." "She has not got it," cried George. "How can she have it when you declared that her father stole it and----" "Oh," Lady Charvington laughed cruelly, "I daresay her father gave her the amethyst cross, as her share of the plunder." "Helen, hold your bitter tongue," cried Mrs. Walker wrathfully. "If you speak of Lesbia in that way, or dare to smirch her fair fame," said George very deliberately, "I shall make it my business to make things unpleasant all round." "As how?" asked Lady Charvington, putting up her lorgnette. "To-morrow I am to see Lord Charvington by appointment----" "I was not aware that you knew my husband." "I do not, but he wrote to me, and I am to see him." "Ah!" drawled Lady Charvington coolly, "perhaps knowing that you love this wretched girl my husband intends to arrange that you shall marry her and take her out of the country." The young man restrained his anger by a violent effort. "Perhaps you are correct, madam," he said in a thick voice and breathing hard. "But I shall also ask Lord Charvington how the cross came to be in his possession." "No!" Lady Charvington shrieked and seemed much perturbed. "You must not do that." "Madam," said George in a stately manner and following up his advantage, "I am the owner of that cross, which was given to me by Miss Hale. I was assaulted on the towing-path so that I might be robbed of it. As the thief did not find it on my person he burgled this cottage and took it from my room. I have every right to ask Lord Charvington how he became possessed of it." The visitor rose with rather a pale face but quite composed, and shook perfume from her costly draperies as she gathered up her belongings to depart. "Things are bad for Lesbia Hale as it is," she said composedly. "I advise you to ask no questions of my husband, or he may withdraw his protection from her. If he does, she is disgraced, publicly." "I don't believe it," said Mrs. Walker, crossing to the window and opening it. "You can leave my cottage by this way, Helen, and the sooner the better." Lady Charvington swept towards the French window with a careless laugh, obviously forced. "I am only too willing to go," she declared. "I only came over to ask you to question Lesbia Hale as to what she has done with my amethyst cross." "Mine, pardon me," said George firmly, as he held the window open, "and you may be sure that I shall marry Lesbia and protect Lesbia even against you who seem to hate her, Heaven only knows why." "Your mother knows," sneered Lady Charvington. "Well, do what you like, only remember that I have warned you!" and with these ominous words she took her welcome departure. "What is next to be done?" asked Mrs. Walker, when the motor hummed away. "We must see Lesbia," said George firmly. "What has been said brings us together at last." <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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