Chapter 11

THE NEW MAID.

Any belief that Olive might still have entertained in the accuracy of Mallow's suggestion was speedily dispelled by the expression of sheer amazement upon Carson's face. He remained cool and perfectly colourless.

"What do I know of Athelstane Place?" he repeated blankly. "Why, I never heard of Athelstane Place."

"You don't read your newspaper, then?"

"No; after living all my life in India, the English newspapers contain nothing likely to interest me. But why do you ask me these strange questions?"

"I will tell you, if you will answer me a still stranger one."

"What is it?" asked Carson, apparently much mystified. "Why do your clothes smell so of sandal-wood?"

"Is that all? Why, because I keep them in a sandal-wood chest."

"Which you brought from India?"

"Yes, I bought it from a Chinaman in Bombay. I like the scent of the wood. Is the odour disagreeable to you? I hope not. Had I known I should have bought new clothes in London."

"The odour is not in itself disagreeable," replied Olive, "but in Athelstane Place a man was murdered whose clothes also smelt strongly of this sandal-wood."

"That is strange," said Carson, biting his finger-nails--"very strange. I remember now. Semberry did mention this murder to me."

"But I thought you said you had not heard of the locality?"

"For the moment I forgot. I recollect now that he mentioned the name casually. But he said nothing about any smell of sandal-wood. I should like to hear more about that. Very strange," said Carson, musingly. "But what, may I ask, can this murder have to do with me?"

If the man was acting, his powers of simulation were marvellous. Olive did not think he was acting. He had not the strength or self-control to mask his feelings so completely. The last shadow of doubt vanished from her mind. There could be no question as to the bona fides of the man.

"If you do not know, I do not," she retorted, and walked back to the drawing-room.

Carson remained where he was, deep in thought. "Murdered man----that sandal-wood odour?" he muttered, drawing his brows together; "I cannot understand it. I must ask Semberry the meaning of this." As he spoke, he removed his right arm from the sling with a sigh of relief, and let it hang for a minute or so. The bangle slipped down from under his shirt-cuff on to his wrist. Carson's eye caught its glitter, and he laughed outright.

Satisfied that Mallow's fancies had no foundation in fact, and having closed her bargain with Carson, Olive resigned herself to the inevitable, and commenced to prepare for her wedding. She retailed to Tui Semberry's proposal about the maid, and Miss Ostergaard warmly approved of it. What might suit her as Olive Bellairs, would not do in her position as Olive Carson, she observed; and it was far better at once to engage a smart young woman, thoroughly conversant with her duties, than to rely upon the primitive notions of some country girl. She advised Olive to lose no time in writing to Mrs. Arne for the girl's reference, and, if it proved satisfactory, to engage her.

Olive concurred. She wrote immediately to Mrs. Arne, and by return of post received a reply. Clara Trall was "a perfect treasure," and the writer was more than sorry to part with her; but the girl's health demanded that she should live in the country, to which argument Mrs. Arne felt she could not but yield, though it was with the greatest reluctance she did so--all this and much more, set forth on fine creamlaid note in a firm, masculine hand. The result was that Olive engaged the girl, asking that she should come to commence her duties at once.

Within a day or two of her summons Clara Trall drove up bag and baggage in a hired fly from Reading Station. She was a tall, sallow-faced girl, carrying herself with a certain hauteur. Her dress was plain though stylish, her manner respectful and self-contained, and she had a habit of drooping her lids over her black eyes demurely, as though repressing herself. On the whole she came well through her mistress's examination and cross-examination. Her knowledge of her work proved thorough; she was quick, had excellent taste and did everything she took in hand as well as it could be done. After some experience and careful observation, Olive agreed that Clara's qualifications had not been overstated by Mrs. Arne. She congratulated herself upon the discovery of a jewel, and availed herself thoroughly of the girl's usefulness. Finally she thanked Semberry for his information and advice.

"Glad it's all right, Miss Bellairs," said the Major politely; "mere chance I heard of her, you know."

"A fortunate chance for me, Major; you can't think what a comfort it is to have a maid one can thoroughly trust."

"Hard thing trust any one in this world," mumbled Semberry. "However, you'll have a husband to look after you soon."

"I can look after myself quite well, thank you," said Olive; "my marriage will make no difference to me in that respect."

"Make a heap to me, Miss Bellairs. I've been constantly with Carson last six months--got him as a kind of legacy from his father, you know. But I s'pose this marriage'll put me on one side; shall miss the boy awfully."

"You are devoted to Mr. Carson?"

"Oh, yes; weak beggar, but good sort. Been a kind of father to him, you know. Glad to see him married though, even at m'own cost."

"Oh," said Olive, "I hope you will not let me interfere with your friendship in the least."

"Must," jerked Semberry, shaking his head. "When a man marries, you know, leaves friends, clings on to his wife. 'Sides, my leave's up soon. I must pull out India way in month or so."

"You will stay for the wedding, I hope, Major."

"Oh, thanks, s'pose so; must see Carson turned off usual style."

Olive was becoming a trifle restive. She soon wearied of trying to manufacture conversation, especially for a man like Semberry, so she seized the first opportunity of slipping away and leaving him to Tui. That young lady's management of the soldier was quite masterly.

She was a born flirt, a free-lance of free-lances, all unclaimed hearts came alike to her, and she was ever ready to annex them. But however much occupied she might be in that direction, she ever kept a watchful eye on Aldean. A confession of one-half the interest she really felt in him, would have saved that young gentleman many a wakeful night and many a heartache. But, after the mystic manner of her sex, she was careful to hold her tongue on that particular subject, and poor Jim's powers of penetration were not of the highest order. Hence he was utterly wretched.

He assured himself she was a coquette, that she had no heart. He used language which sorely taxed the Recording Angel's supply of asterisks. But still she drew him back, still she tormented him, until he had a mind to turn celibate and retreat to the handiest monastery. Withal he managed to write now and again to Mallow, and to report to him, as best he was able, how Olive looked, what she said, and how she passed her time. The knowledge that Mallow was as miserable as himself was some small comfort to him.

Poor Jim took many long walks. He would then repeat to himself such poetry as he remembered, which was not much. Sauntering home in the twilight one evening, flogging his memory for rhymes, as usual, he noticed through a gap in the hedge close by two persons talking together. Closer inspection discovered a man and a woman. The man was Carson. The woman he had never before seen. Carson's arm was about the girl's waist, and she was alternately raging and sobbing, yet with a degree of caution which went to show that the meeting was a stolen one. Neither of them saw Aldean, who did not slacken his pace until he was out of both eyesight and earshot. Then he swore.

"Infernal shame!" he growled, once more increasing his stride to cool his rage; "here's this fellow going to be married next week, yet he carries on with another girl. If I were to tell Mallow how this cad is deceiving Miss Bellairs, there'd be some trouble. I wonder who the girl can be? I never saw her before, to my knowledge."

It chanced, however, that he was soon to see her again, for on calling at the Manor House a day or so after he came face to face with a tall, sallow-faced young woman, in whom he had no difficulty in recognizing Carson's inamorata. She was handsome enough in a way, he thought, but he did not like her mouth; and those dark eyes, splendid as they were, did not blaze in her head for nothing. She stood on one side as Lord Aldean passed her, and took him in--as it seemed--at a glance.

"Servant," thought Jim, as he entered the drawing-room. "Hum! doesn't look like one for all that. Carson's a--well, Carson's a blackguard, I fear."

To satisfy himself on this point, after some desultory conversation with Olive, he put a leading question:--"You have a new face about the Manor, I see," he remarked; "tall girl, dark and rather handsome. Who is she?"

"My new maid, Clara Trall," replied Olive, somewhat surprised, for it was not Aldean's habit to notice new faces.

"She seems a superior class of girl for a servant."

"Yes, she is indeed, Lord Aldean. She has been with me only a few days, but I am more than satisfied with her. I have to thank Major Semberry for finding her for me."

"Really!" Aldean was puzzled. So it was Semberry who had brought this girl, whom he had seen weeping in the gloaming on Carson's shoulder, to Casterwell. There was something queer about this. Little guessing his thoughts, Olive proceeded to relate the details of Clara's engagement. And after a few civil words, congratulating her upon the possession of such a treasure, Aldean went home more puzzled than ever.

"What the dickens can it mean," he murmured. "The woman doesn't look like a servant. It is clear Semberry got her here, and it is equally clear Carson makes love to her. There is something very queer about it all. It's too bad. Goodness knows I'm not by way of being the acme of morality myself, but--well, it's too bad altogether, making love just before his marriage to his future wife's maid."

Tui, coming round the bend of the road, scattered Lord Aldean's contemplations to the four winds. He hurried forward and took off his cap with a blush and a bow.

"I have just been up to the Manor House," he explained, "but you were not there."

Tui laughed. "You see, Lord Aldean, strange as it may appear to you, I do take a walk occasionally for the sake of my health.

"Oh!" said Jim, "I too have been walking for my heart's sake."

"Really! I hope your heart is much benefited by the treatment," said Tui, demurely. "Does Dr. Cupid recommend solitary ambulations?"

"He recommends strongly that I should show you the neighbourhood."

"Ah, but, you see, he isn't my doctor, Lord Aldean, so I don't feel called upon to obey his orders."

"Oh, but I say, you know," blurted out her victim, "you really should let me show you round our country. You can have no idea how charming he is."

"Charm depends so much upon one's companion, doesn't it? Now Major----"

"Oh, I know he is delightful," interrupted Jim wrathfully; "at least, you think he is."

"Do I, indeed? And who told you so, may I ask?"

"Nobody; but I have good eyes."

"But not good manners, I fear, Lord Aldean, nor good temper."

Inwardly Jim groaned. "I used to be considered an amiable sort of chap," he said sadly. "But somehow I've gone wrong lately. I miss----, I miss Mallow."

The shaft went home. "Oh, I know how very fond you are of Mr. Mallow. When is he coming back that you may be amiable?"

"I cannot say. He does not tell me in his letters."

"No? Then I presume he intends letting that horrid Mr. Carson marry Olive?"

"I suppose so. I do not see how he can very well prevent it."

"Oh, he is blind, and so are you," cried Tui, indignantly. "If he loves Olive, why on earth doesn't he marry her? Mr. Carson's a smiling Cheshire cat. Mr. Mallow indeed! He ought to be called Mr. Feeble-Mind. If I were a man and loved a girl, I'd tell her so."

"Suppose the girl wouldn't let the man get that far?" said Aldean, significantly.

"What nonsense! As if any man, who was really and truly in love, ever stopped from speaking his mind."

"Well, I am in love, you----."

"Lord Aldean, I am not speaking about you, but about Mr. Mallow. You can tell him from me that I am ashamed of him. He's a hesitating, frightened----"

"Come, I say, Miss Ostergaard----"

"Nervous, feeble-minded rabbit; so there!" and Tui, having brought her string of epithets to a triumphant conclusion, walked off rapidly, with a glance that forbade Aldean to follow.

The young man looked after her open-mouthed. "My word! she has a power of speech," he murmured. "I wonder what she'd call Carson, if she knew of his little game with the maid?"