Cursed by a Fortune. Fenn George Manville

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then, they mean Claud to marry Kate, and I’m not going to stand by and see that done.”

      “By the way, I thought Claud was your confidential friend.”

      “So he is, up to a point; but it’s every man for himself in a case like this. I’m in the race myself, and I mean to marry Kate Wilton myself. It’s too good a prize to let slip.”

      “And does the lady incline to my stepson’s addresses?”

      “Well, hardly. I’ve had no chance. They watched me like cats do mice, and she has been so sickly that it would be nonsense to try and talk to her.”

      “Then your prospects are very mild indeed.”

      “Oh, no, they’re not. This is a case where a man must play trumps, high and at once. I may as well speak out, and you’ll help me. There’s no time shilly-shallying. If I hesitate my chance would be gone. I shall make my plans, and take her away.”

      “With her consent, of course.”

      “With or without,” said the young man, coolly.

      “How?”

      “Oh, I’ll find a means. Girls are only girls, and they’ll give way to a stronger will. Once I get hold of her she’ll obey me, and a marriage can soon be got through.”

      “But suppose she refuses?”

      “She’ll be made,” said the young man, sharply. “The stakes are worth some risk.”

      “But are you aware that the law would call this abduction?”

      “I don’t care what the law calls it if I get the girl.”

      “And it would mean possibly penal servitude.”

      “Well, I’m suffering that now, situated as I am. There, father, never mind the law. Don’t be squeamish; a great fortune is at stake, and it must come into our family, not into theirs.”

      “You think they are trying that?”

      “Think? I’m sure. Claud owned to as much, but he’s rather on somewhere else. Come, you’ll help me? It would be a grand coup.”

      “Help you? Bah! you foolish young ass! It is impossible. It is madness. You don’t know what you are talking about. The girl could appeal to the first policeman, and you would be taken into custody. You and Claud Wilton must have been having a drinking bout, and the liquor is still in your head. There, go to your own room, and when you can talk sensibly come back to me.”

      “I can talk sensibly now. Will you help me with a couple of hundred pounds to carry this through? I should want to take her for a couple of months on the Continent, and bring her back my wife.”

      “Two hundred pounds to get you clapped in a cell at Bow Street.”

      “No; to marry a hundred and fifty thousand pounds.”

      “No, no, no. You are a fool, a visionary, a madman. It is impossible, and I shall feel it my duty to write to James Wilton to forbid, you the house.”

      “Once more; will you help me?”

      “Once more, no. Now go, and let me get on with my affairs. Someone must work.”

      “Then you will not?”

      “No.”

      “Then listen to me: I’ve made up my mind to it, and do it. I will, at any cost, at any risk. She shan’t marry Claud Wilton, and she shall marry me. Yes, you may smile, but if I die for it I’ll have that girl and her money.”

      “But it would cost two hundred pounds to make the venture, sir. Perhaps you had better get that first. Now please go.”

      The young man rose and looked at him fiercely for a few minutes, and Garstang met his eyes firmly.

      “No,” he said, “that would not do, Harry. The law fences us round against robbery and murder, just as it does women against abduction. You are not in your senses. You were drinking last night. Go back home and have a long sleep. You’ll be better then.”

      The young man glanced at him sharply and left the room.

      Ten minutes spent in deep thought were passed by Garstang, who then rose, replaced the papers in the tin case, and crossed and rang the bell.

      “Send Mr Harry here.”

      “He went out as soon as he left your room, sir.”

      “Thank you; that will do.” Then, as the door closed upon the clerk, Garstang said softly:

      “So that’s it; then it is quite time to act.”

      Chapter Four

      “Will that Doctor never come!” muttered plump Mrs Wilton, who had been for the past ten minutes running from her niece’s bedside to one of the front casement windows of the fine old Kentish Manor House, to watch the road through the park. “He might have come from London by this time. There, it’s of no use; it’s fate, and fate means disappointment. She’ll die; I’m sure she’ll die, and all that money will go to those wretched Morrisons. Why did he go out to the farms this morning? Any other morning would have done; and Claud away, too. Was ever woman so plagued? – Yes, what is it? Oh, it’s you, Eliza. How is she?”

      “Quite insensible, ma’am. Is the Doctor never coming?”

      “Don’t ask me, Eliza. I sent the man over in the dog-cart, with instructions to bring him back.”

      “Then pray, pray come and stay with me in the bedroom, ma’am.”

      “But I can’t do anything, Eliza, and it isn’t as if she were my own child. I couldn’t bear to see her die.”

      “Mrs Wilton!” cried the woman, wildly. “Oh, my poor darling young mistress, whom I nursed from a babe – die!”

      “Here’s master – here’s Mr Wilton,” cried the rosy-faced lady from the window, and making a dash at a glass to see that her cap was right, she hurried out of the room and down the broad oaken stairs to meet her lord at the door.

      “Hallo, Maria, what’s the matter?” he cried, meeting her in the hall, his high boots splashed with mud, and a hunting whip in his hand.

      “Oh, my dear, I’m so glad you’ve come! Kate – fainting fits – one after the other – dying.”

      “The devil! What have you done?”

      “Cold water – vinegar – burnt – ”

      “No, no. Haven’t you sent for the Doctor?”

      “Yes, I sent Henry with the dog-cart to fetch Mr Leigh.”

      “Mr Leigh! Were you mad? What do you know about Mr Leigh? Bah, you always were a fool!”

      “Yes, my dear, but what was I to do? It would have taken three hours to get – Oh, here he is.”

      For there was the grating of carriage

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