when gilbert lloyd satisfied himself that the new opera-singer, at whose most successful debut he had "assisted," was none other than his wife, the momentary agitation which had so shaken him passed away, and he sat himself down at the back of lady carabas' box--not in the chair usually reserved for the controller for the time being of the soul, but in a more retired position--and gave himself up, as any uninterested auditor might have done, to listening to the singing. he had never been particularly fond of music, and though he had always known that his wife possessed a fine voice, and had even at one time taken into consideration the probable profits which would accrue were he to exploiter her musical talent, he had never imagined the possibility of her taking such a position as that in which he now found her. gilbert lloyd was a man who believed thoroughly in the truth of that axiom which tells us that "there is a time for everything;" it would be quite time enough for him to analyse the new light which had been let into his life, to weigh and balance the pros and cons connected with the appearance of gertrude on a scene which he was accustomed to tread, mixed up with people with whom he was to a certain extent familiar; it would be time enough for him to enter into those business details on the next morning, when his brain would be fresh and clear, and he would be recruited by his night's rest, and able more clearly to see his way, and arrive at a more accurate decision as to the advisability of steps to be taken. meanwhile, he would listen with the rest; and he did listen, with great pleasure, joining heartily in the applause, and delighting lady carabas by the warmth of his outspoken admiration of her favourite. and he escorted her ladyship to her carriage, and went to the club, and played half-a-dozen rubbers with admirable coolness and self-possession. it was one of gilbert lloyd's strongest points that he could put aside anything unpleasant that might be pressing upon him, no matter how urgently, and defer it for future consideration. in the midst of trouble of all kinds--pecuniary complications, turf anxieties, on the issue of which his position in life depended--he would, after looking at them vigorously with all his power, turn into bed and sleep as calmly as though his mind were entirely free, rising the next morning with renewed health and courage to tackle the difficulties again. just at this period of miss lambert's début, lloyd happened to be particularly busy; the derby--on which he and his party were even more than usually interested--was close at hand, and all gilbert's time was absorbed in "squaring" lord ticehurst's book and his own. but he knew that he need be under no alarm from the new element in his life which had just cropped out: though he had seen gertrude, she had not seen him; there was no reason as yet--why they should be thrown together; and even if they were, he was too fully aware of her coldness and her pride to imagine she would for an instant attempt to thrust herself upon him, or even acknowledge him. so gilbert lloyd made no difference in his life, beyond noting the name under which his wife was charming the public, and paying attention whenever that name was pronounced in his presence. he heard all that--as we know--people said about her; but as that all was praise of her public performance, and astonishment at the quietude of her private life, it caused him very little emotion, and that little of no pleasurable kind.
it was the intervening week between epsom and ascot, and the season was at its height. the ticehurst party, thanks to the astute generalship of gilbert lloyd, had pulled through the derby very well. lord ticehurst's horse had not won--no one had ever imagined that possible--but it had been brought up to such a position in the betting as to secure the money for the stable, and save its owner's credit with the public. matters for the future looked promising. to be sure, lord ticehurst had not taken so much interest of late in his turf speculations; but that did not particularly affect mr. lloyd. so long as his patron kept up his stud, and left the entire management of everything to him, that gentleman was content. it was not unnatural that a man of lord ticehurst's youth and health and position should wish to enjoy himself in society; and gilbert rather encouraged his pupil's new notions on this point. it was not that orson was endowed with reason, but rather that orson had found out some jeux innocens for himself, of which he did not require his keeper's constant supervision.
one morning in the above-named week, gilbert lloyd was sitting in his own room in lord ticehurst's bachelor-house in hill-street. it was a pleasant room on the first floor, and was furnished in a manner half-substantial and half-pretty. the large oak writing-table in the centre, the two or three japanned deed-boxes on the floor, the handful of auctioneers' bills pinned to the wall, announcing property to be disposed of at forthcoming sales--all these looked like business; but they were diametrically contradicted by the cigar-boxes, the pipe-rack, the reynolds proofs, and the pompeian photographs on the walls; the ivory statuettes and the china monsters on the chimney-piece; the deer-skins and the tiger-skins, the heavy bronzes, the velvet portières, and the luxurious chairs and ottomans; all of which indicated the possession of good taste and the means of gratifying it. gilbert lloyd had chosen these rooms--his bedchamber adjoined his sitting-room--when the ménage was first transplanted to hill-street from limmer's--where, during the reign of plater dobbs, lord ticehurst had resided--and had kept them ever since. he had chosen them because they were pleasant and airy, and so far out of the way, that the ribald friends of the real proprietor--who were dropping into their companion's rooms on the ground-floor at all hours of the day and night--never thought of ascending to them. trainers and jockeys made their way up the stairs with much muttered cursing, hating the ascent, which was troublesome to their short legs, and hating the business which brought them there; for mr. lloyd had a sharp tongue, and knew how to use it; and if his orders were not carried out to the letter, so much the worse for those who had to obey them. and latterly, a different class of visitors found their way to gilbert's room, demure attorneys and portly land-agents; for mr. lloyd was now recognised as lord ticehurst's factotum; and all matters connected with the estates, whether as regards sale, purchase, or mortgage, passed through his hands.
it was twelve o'clock in the day, and gilbert was seated at the oak writing-table. a banker's pass-book lay open at his right hand, and he was busied with calculations on a paper before him, when there was a knock at the door, and upon the cry "come in," lord ticehurst entered the room. gilbert looked up from his writing, and on seeing who was his visitor, gave a short laugh.
"won't you send up a servant with your name, next time?" said he; "the idea of a man knocking at a door in his own house--at least, when that isn't the door of his wife's room! then, i've heard it's advisable to knock or cough outside, or something of that sort, just to keep all straight, you know!"
"funny dog!" said lord ticehurst, indolently dropping into an easy-chair and puffing at his cigar. "how are you?"
"well, but worried," answered gilbert.
"that goes without saying," said his lordship; "you always are worried, or you would never be well!"
"look here, etchingham," exclaimed gilbert lloyd, with a mock air of intense interest, "you mustn't do this, 'pon my soul you mustn't, or you'll hurt yourself. i've noticed lately a distinct tendency on your part to be epigrammatic; you weren't intended for it, and it won't agree with you. take a friend's advice, and cut it."
"considerate old boy! tell me the news."
"tell you the news--i like that. tell the news to a man whose life is passed in what the newspaper fellows call the 'vortex of fashion:' who is so much engaged that his humble servant here can't get five minutes with him on business, when it's most particularly wanted. tell you the news, indeed!"
"no. but i say, you know what i mean, gilbert. how are we getting on? ascot, you know, and all that?"
"o, business! well, bosjesman will win the trial stakes, and plume will be beaten like a sack for the cup; both of which facts are good for us. we shall get dumfunk's derby-money, or most of it; he's come to terms--nice terms--with that discount company at shrewsbury; and little jim potter's shoulder's better, and he'll be able to ride."
"and what about the house?"
"what house? parliament? does your lordship intend to put me in for etchingham? i'm as tit a fiddle for that work, and could roll them speeches off the reel--"
"don't be an ass, gilbert! i mean the house for the week--at ascot?"
"o, i see! yes, that's all settled. i couldn't get anything nearer than windsor; but i've got a very pretty little box there. charley chesterton rents it for the year--he's there with the blues, you know; but mrs. chesterton's going away, and charley will go into barracks for the week, and we can have the house. it's a stiffish figure, but they can get any amount that week, you know."
"o yes, of course, that don't matter. and it's a nice house, you say?"
"very pretty little place indeed--do very well for us."
"yes. and mrs. chesterton's been living there? she's a nice woman, ain't she?"
"yes, she's nice enough, as women go. but what has she to do with it?"
"well--i mean to say, it's a sort of crib that--don't you know--one could ask a lady to stop in?"
"o--h!" exclaimed gilbert lloyd, with a very long face--"that's it, is it?"
"no, no, 'pon my soul, you don't understand what i mean," said lord ticehurst hurriedly. "fact of the matter is, lady carabas wants to come down for the cup-day; and she'll bring a friend, of course; and i told her about my having a house somewhere in the neighbourhood for the week, and thought she and the other lady, and their maids and people, could--don't you see--stay. what do you think?"
"my dear etchingham, whatever you wish, of course shall be carried out. it is not for me to teach etiquette to any lady, especially to lady carabas, who despises conventionality, and who, besides, is quite old enough to take care of herself. i should have thought that for a lady to come to a bachelor's house--however, of course she'll have her maid and her footman, and some one to act as her ame damnées--her sheep-dog. who is the sheep-dog, by the way?"
"i don't know about sheep-dog," said lord ticehurst, flushing very red; "but lady carabas said the lady she proposed to do me the honour to bring to my house was--was miss grace lambert."
gilbert lloyd looked up without the smallest trace of perturbation, and said, "miss grace lambert? o, the--the celebrated singer! o, indeed!"
"yes," said lord ticehurst; "there's a chance of her getting a holiday on thursday night--town will be very empty, you know, and i think i shall be able to square it with munns--and then she might come down to the races, and she and lady carabas could come over here afterwards. she's a most charming person, gilbert."
"is she?" said gilbert lloyd very slowly. "i have not--what you seem to have--the pleasure of her acquaintance. have you known her long?"
"o, ever so long; ever since she first came out at a concert at carabas house one night. don't you recollect my pointing out to you a very stunning girl in a brougham, just as we were turning into tatt's one day?"
"my dear fellow, you've pointed me out so many stunning girls when we've been turning into tatt's, or elsewhere, that i really cannot distinguish that bright particular star. but i've seen miss lambert at the opera."
"and she's a stunner, ain't she?"
"she seemed to be perfectly good-looking and ladylike on the stage. but these people are so different in private life."
"my dear gilbert, i've seen her in private life, as you call it, a dozen times, and she's awfully nice."
"o, and she's awfully nice, eh?"
"what a queer fish you are! of course she's awfully nice, and this place of charley chesterton's will do for these ladies to come to?"
"yes, i should think so. mrs. chesterton is a woman accustomed to have the right thing about her; and it's good enough for her, so i presume it will 'do' for miss lambert and lady carabas."
"i hate you when you've got this sneering fit on you, gilbert," said his lordship sulkily; and gilbert lloyd saw that he had gone far enough. his patron was wonderfully good-tempered, but, like all good-tempered men, when once put out, he "cut up rough" for a very long time.
"don't be angry, etchingham;" and lloyd rose and crossed the room, and put his hand on the young man's shoulder. "i was only chaffing; and i was a little annoyed, perhaps, because you seemed doubtful whether this house that i have got, and only got after a great deal of trouble, would suit you. you might have depended on me. well, and so you have made this young lady's acquaintance, and you find her charming?"
"quite charmin'," said lord ticehurst, his good-humour being restored. "i've been with lady carabas several times to see her at a pretty little place she's got out bayswater way, where she lives with an old tabby--by the way, i'll bet odds that old tabby don't let her come here without her."
"well, there's room for the old tabby," said gilbert. "but, see, etchingham; do i really understand that you--that you care for this girl?"
"d--n it, gilbert, you press a fellow home! well, then, i'm not given to this sort of thing, as you know very well; but this time it's an awful case of spoons."
"ah!" said gilbert, smiling quietly, "your expression is slangy but vigorous. and what are your views with regard to her?"
"jove!" said lord ticehurst, "only one way there, my dear fellow! wouldn't stand any nonsense; any of 'em, i mean,--lady carabas and all that lot. besides, she's a lady, you know--educated, and all that sort of thing; and as to looks and breedin', she could hold her own with any of 'em--eh?"
"of course she could. besides, chaff apart, when the earl of ticehurst chooses to marry, his countess--however, there's time enough to talk about that. now run along, for i must write off at once about this windsor house; and i've a heap of things to do to-day."
lord ticehurst left his mentor, after shaking hands warmly with him, and took his departure in a very happy frame of mind. it was a great comfort to him to have made lloyd aware of the state of his feelings towards miss lambert, immature as those feelings were, for mentor had such a hold over the young man that he never felt comfortable while he was keeping anything back from him. but when he was gone, gilbert lloyd did not begin to write the letter to windsor, or settle to any of the "heap of work" which he had mentioned as in store for him. he got up and opened a drawer full of cigars, selected one carefully, lit it, and threw himself into a low easy-chair, with his legs crossed, and his hands clasped behind his head. at first he puffed angrily at his cigar, but after a little time he gradually began to smoke more quietly, and then he unclasped his hands and rested his elbows on his knees, and his chin on his hands.
"that's it!" he said aloud, "that's the line of country! fancy my never having given a thought to where this fellow was going so often, never wondering at the sudden fancy he had taken to his aunt's society; and then discovering from his own lips that he has been paying visits to my wife! more than that--that he is confoundedly in love with her, and wants to marry her! wants to marry my wife! there's something deuced funny in that. i wonder whether any other fellow ever had a man come to him and tell him he wanted to marry his wife. i should think not! not that i should care in the least if anyone married gertrude--anyone, that is to say, except this youth downstairs. i have not done with him yet, and a wife would interfere horribly with me and my plans. yes, that's the right notion. there is no reason why etchingham should not be encouraged in this new fancy. it will keep him from dangling after any other woman, and it can come to nothing. i know her ladyship of carabas rather too well to credit her with any desire for miss lambert the opera-singer as a relative; as a plaything, an amusement, she's well enough: but lady carabas cries 'halte là!' and a hint from me to her would make her speak the word. besides, i am not dead yet, and i might have something to say about my wife's second marriage--that is, of course, supposing that second marriage did not suit my views. but there will be no question of that for some time. now that i know the state of affairs, i can keep myself au courant to all that goes on through lady carabas; i shall make her ladyship induce her charming nephew to moderate his transports so far as any question of proposing is concerned; but he may be 'awful spoons,' as he charmingly phrases it, as long as he pleases. as for this windsor notion, that must be knocked on the head at once. i don't intend to give up the cup-day at ascot myself, and i certainly could not well be there, if gertrude were to be of the party. i'll settle that with lady carabas."
here behold gilbert lloyd's philosophy and views of life. affection for the woman whom he had wedded, and from whom he had separated, he had not one scrap; nor even care as to what she did, what course of life she pursued, whence she obtained the means of livelihood. any interest in that he had abnegated when he accepted the terms which she dictated for their separation,--terms which meant oblivion of the past and insouciance for the future, terms which he had indorsed when they were proposed, and which he was ready to hold to still. but when his knowledge of his wife's previous life--of the thrall from which she had actually, but not legally, escaped--gave him the mastery over her actions, or the actions of those in relation with her, he was prepared halteto twist the screw to its tightest, if by so twisting it he could aid in the development of his own plans.
had gilbert lloyd no remnant of love for gertrude, no lingering reminiscence of the time when, a trusting school-girl, she placed her future in his hands, gave up her whole life to him, and fled away from the only semblance of home which she had known at his suggestion? had he no thought of the time immediately succeeding that, when for those few happy weeks, ere the pleasant dream was dispelled, she lay nestling in his bosom, building o such castles in the air, such impossible pictures, prompted by girlish romantic fancies of the future? had gilbert lloyd any such reminiscences as these? truth to tell, not in the smallest degree. he had passed the wet sponge over the slate containing any records of his early life, and all trace of gertrude had been effectually erased. when he heard of her now, when it became necessary for him to give a certain number of moments to thinking of her in connection with business matters, he treated the affair simply from a business point of view. to him she was as dead "as nail in door," as immaterial as the first woman he might brush against in the street; she might be turned to serve certain ends which he had in view; but he regarded her simply as one of the puppets in the little life-drama of which he acted as showman. the pleasant gathering which lord ticehurst had looked forward to on the cup-day at ascot did not come off. gilbert lloyd had five minutes' interview with lady carabas on the subject; and two days afterwards mr. boulderson munns announced the impossibility of his sparing miss grace lambert's services for that evening. not that miss lambert would have accepted lord ticehurst's hospitality if her services could have been spared, but it was best to put the refusal on a strictly professional footing. mr. lloyd did not in the least care about absenting himself from that pleasant gathering on the heath, and it was of course impossible for him to be brought face to face with lord ticehurst's intended guest. so the recipients of his lordship's hospitality in the cottage at windsor were lady carabas and miss macivor, a sprightly elderly spinster, who was as well known in society as the clock at st. james's palace, and who was always ready to play what she imagined to be propriety in any fast party. the ladies enjoyed themselves immensely, they said; but their host's gratification was not so keen. he was bored and ruffled, and he did not care to disguise it.
and now a change came over gilbert lloyd, which was to him unaccountable, and against which he struggled with all the power of his strong will, but struggled in vain. this change came about, as frequently happens with such matters by which our whole future is influenced, in an unforeseen manner, and by the merest accident. the ascot settling-day had not passed off very comfortably. several heavy bookmakers were absent; among them one who had lost a large sum of money to the ticehurst party. this man was known to have won hugely on the derby a fortnight before, and to have had a capital account at his banker's a few days previously. it seemed therefore clear to gilbert lloyd, with whom the management of the matter rested, that the money was still in the possession of the absconding bookmaker, who would, in all probability, take an opportunity of leaving the country with the sum thus accumulated. gilbert lloyd put himself in communication with the police authorities, furnished a correct description of the defaulter, and caused a strict watch to be kept at the various principal ports. one morning he received a telegram from liverpool, announcing that the offender had been seen there. it had been ascertained that he was about to leave by the cunard boat for boston the next morning; but that, as he had committed no criminal offence, it was impossible for the police to detain him. this news made gilbert lloyd furious; that he should have his prey under his hand, and yet be unable to close that hand upon him, was maddening. he thought some good might be effected by his hurrying to liverpool by the afternoon express, finding the defaulter, and frightening him out of at least a portion of the money due. the more he turned this plan in his mind, the more feasible it seemed to him, and the more he was determined to carry it into effect. there were, however, certain affairs to be transacted that day upon which it was most necessary he should, before starting, communicate personally with lord ticehurst; and gilbert, from recent experience, knew that he should have considerable difficulty in tracing that young nobleman's whereabouts. he made inquiries at all the various haunts, but without any success; at length, at the club someone said that ticehurst had offered to drive him down to the crystal palace, for which place he had started a couple of hours--ago. the crystal palace! what on earth could take him there? gilbert lloyd, who saw fewer "sights" than almost any man in london, had been there once, but brought away a dazed recollection of fountains and egyptian idols, and statues and tropical trees, none of which he thought would have any interest for his pupil. but his wonderment was at an end when, taking up the newspaper and looking for the advertisement, he saw announced that a grand concert, by the principal singers of the scandinavian opera, would take place at the crystal palace that afternoon, and that the chief attraction of the concert was to be miss grace lambert.
a swift hansom bore him to victoria, and a tedious train landed him at the crystal palace, just in time to hear the opening notes of herr boreas' solo on the ophicleide. a charming performance that of herr boreas, but one to which mr. lloyd gave no attention. he hurried through the crowd, looking eagerly right and left; and at last his eyes fell upon a group, where they remained.
lord ticehurst, mr. munns, and two or three others were component parts of this little knot; but gilbert lloyd saw but one person--gertrude. how marvellously she had improved during the time that had elapsed since they parted! she had been pretty as a girl; she was lovely as a woman. how lovely she looked in her simple morning dress and coquettish little bonnet! with what a perfect air of easy grace she listened to the men bending before her, and how quietly she received the homage which they were evidently paying! an angry flush rose on gilbert's pale cheeks, and his heart beat quickly as he witnessed this manifest adoration. what right had anyone but he to approach her, to--it stung him like a cut from a whip, it flared like a train of gunpowder. he knew what it was in an instant: mad, raging, ungovernable jealousy--nothing else. he had thrown off all love for her--all thought of her; and now, the first time they met, the passion which struck him when he first saw her, years before, looking out of the window of the vale house, sprung up with renewed fury within him, and he raged and chafed as he recognised the obstacles which kept him from her, but which were no barriers to other men. she seemed utterly indifferent to them, though, he was glad to see--no! her face lights up, she smiles and bends forward; and when she looks up again there is a blush upon her cheek. who has been speaking to her--the tall handsome man with the brown beard--miles challoner! and gilbert lloyd swore a deep oath of revenge--revenge of which his wife and his brother should each bear their share.
