the more captain verinder turned over in his mind the chief points of the story told him by his niece, the more convinced he became that it was indeed, as he had remarked to himself at the time, a matter worth inquiring into.
the captain, when once he had made up his mind to any particular course of action, was not a man to let the grass grow under his feet. his first proceeding was to seek out a certain billiard-room acquaintance of the name of tring--a man who had got through two fortunes in his time and was now reduced to earning a scanty livelihood by literary hackwork at the british museum. having given him the particulars of the information he required, the captain met him by appointment a couple of days later.
"the only person i can find," said tring, "of the name specified by you that seems likely to answer to your requirements, is a certain sir gilbert clare, of withington chase, hertfordshire, the representative of one of the oldest titles in the kingdom."
captain verinder, having taken a note of the name and address in his pocket-book and paid the other for his trouble, went his way. his next step, the following morning, was to call on giovanna with a request for the loan of ten pounds.
"'tis not for myself i ask it," he said with one of the grandiloquent airs in which he sometimes indulged. "it will be expended to the last farthing in your service, my dear. i refrain from saying more at present, save that in the course of a few days i hope to be the bearer of news that will--well, that will astonish you very considerably."
vanna raised no objection to lending her uncle the amount he asked for, although by this time she had seen enough of him to feel pretty sure that she would never see a shilling of it back.
in the course of the following day captain verinder booked himself by train to mapleford, which station he had ascertained to be the nearest to the point he was bound for. his object was to try to discover whether the john alexander clare whom his niece had married so many years before was in any way related to, or connected with, sir gilbert clare of withington chase.
the captain having located himself at the best hotel, and partaken of a dinner such as had been altogether beyond his means for a long time past, proceeded to take a quiet stroll about the little town, which, however, had nothing of interest to offer for his inspection. later on he found his way into the coffee-room of the hotel, which place, as he had expected it would, drew to itself in the course of the evening a round dozen or more of the better class of tradespeople and others, all of whom, it was evident, were in the habit of frequently meeting there. here he found no difficulty in ascertaining everything about sir gilbert that it concerned him to know. thus, he learnt that sir gilbert's son by his first marriage had left england, after a quarrel with his father, more than twenty years before, and that, a few years later, news had come to hand that he had lost his life through some accident abroad, only, nobody seemed to know either the nature of the accident in question, or where it had happened. further, the captain learnt that the second lady clare and her three sons were all dead, and that sir gilbert, a broken, childless old man of seventy-four, was living at the chase in a seclusion that was rarely broken by any visitor from the outside world.
it was on a friday that the captain went down to mapleford, and the following monday saw him back in town. he had stayed in the country over sunday in order that he might be present at morning service at the church, just beyond the precincts of the chase, which sir gilbert made a point of attending, and where several generations of his progenitors were buried.
the captain wanted to see for himself what kind of man sir gilbert was. the latter arrived in due course, alone and on foot, and from the place where he sat verinder had an unimpeded view of him. when service was over the captain took a stroll round the church, pausing to look at every monument and to read every inscription commemorative of dead and gone members of the clare family. one inscription, and one only, had any special interest for him. it was that which recorded the death of "john alexander clare, eldest son of sir gilbert clare, who was accidentally killed abroad" on such and such a date. "i would wager a hundred pound note to a fiver--if i had one," said the captain with emphasis, "that this tablet refers to vanna's husband and to no one else. it's altogether out of the question that there should have been two john alexander clares living at the same time. and to think that the young man has been dead for seventeen years and that his widow has known nothing about it? what a fortunate thing it is for her that she has got a man of the world like me at her back! from this day forward her interests and mine are identical."
a jubilant man was captain verinder when he went back to london next day.
about midday on tuesday he called on giovanna at the boarding-house--one largely frequented by foreigners--at which she had located herself for the time being. that the news of which he was the bearer was a great surprise to her hardly needs to be stated. it was both a surprise and a shock, for although she had never really cared for alec as a wife should care for her husband, and had left him of her own accord and under most cruel circumstances, through all the years which had intervened since then his image had been often in her thoughts, but it was as a man still living and in the prime of life that he had dwelt in her memory. consequently, to be told suddenly that he had met with a violent death seventeen years before, which pointed to a time almost immediately after her desertion of him, was enough to thrill her through every fibre of her being.
well, whatever uncertainty she might heretofore have felt with regard to her husband's fate had no longer any room for existence. she had been a widow all these years without knowing it.
before long the captain went on to speak of sir gilbert, and to detail all that he had heard in reference to him. he had always been rather clever as an amateur sketcher, and could catch a likeness better than most people, and he now took pencil and paper and with a few bold strokes drew an outline portrait of the baronet. pushing it across the table to vanna, he said: "does that in any way resemble the english milor who travelled all the way to catanzaro to see the mr. john alexander who became your husband a little later?"
"yes, that is the man," said vanna quietly when she had examined the sketch.
"ah; i thought as much," remarked her uncle drily.
"and now that you have found out all this about sir gilbert clare, in what way does it, or can it, affect me?" queried vanna presently.
the captain regarded her with a pitying smile, as he might a child who had asked him some utterly preposterous question.
"cannot you see that the fact of your father-in-law being a rich and childless man may be made--i say made--to affect your fortunes very materially--very materially indeed? that is," he added a moment after, "if you only know how to put the knowledge thus acquired to a practical use."
giovanna shook her head. it was evident that she could not in the least comprehend what her uncle was driving at.
the captain's shoulders went up nearly to his ears. "what a very fortunate thing it is, my dear, that at such an important crisis of your life you have by your side a thorough man of the world like myself--and one so completely devoted to your interests! were you my own child i could not entertain a greater regard and affection for you than i do."
vanna sat grandly unmoved, her statuesque features betraying no slightest trace of emotion.
"as cold as a marble goddess," muttered the captain under his breath as he produced his cigar case, for he was a man who regarded smoking as one of the necessaries of existence.
for a little space he smoked in silence; then all at once he said, as if it were an echo of some thought he had been revolving in his mind: "what a pity, what an enormous pity it is, that your child did not live till now!"
a sudden spasm, gone almost as soon as it had come, contracted the muscles of vanna's face; her teeth bit hard into her underlip; but never a word answered she.
"come," said the captain a few minutes later; "put on your things and let us go for a stroll in the park. it's a lovely afternoon, and there will be no end of swells in the row."
nothing loth was giovanna to comply. as yet she had seen hardly anything of london, and what she had seen had not impressed her over favourably. it had been one of the dreams of her life to see hyde park in the height of the season, and now her dream was about to be fulfilled. in ten minutes she was ready to set out.
the captain chartered a hansom--it was the first time his niece had been in one--telling the driver to take his time and go by way of regent street and piccadilly. here at length was london as vanna had imagined it to be.
as the captain had prophesied, the row was crowded. they strolled about for a while in the warm sunshine, and then found a couple of chairs whence they could take in the varied features of the passing show at their leisure. a proud man was captain verinder that day. in all that gay and fashionable throng there were not, in his opinion, more than three or four women who in point of looks were fit to be matched with the one by his side--that is to say (to compare one thing with another), if a rose may be considered to be in the perfection of its beauty when it is fully blown, and not when it is merely a blushing bud of undeveloped possibilities. although nearing her fortieth birthday, giovanna--unlike the majority of her countrywomen, who age early--was remarkably young-looking for her years. but then she was english on her mother's side, and that may have had something to do with the matter. she was wearing a charming half-mourning costume, with bonnet to match, which she had bought since her arrival in london. many were the glances of admiration of which she was the recipient, many the heads that were turned for a second look at her tall figure, so stately and yet so graceful, with her pale classic features, clear-cut as some antique gem, as she threaded her way through the crowd with the proud composed air of one "to the manner born." well might captain verinder feel proud of his charge.
"do you see that blasé-looking man driving that pair of splendid chestnuts?" he said to vanna a few minutes after they had sat down. "he is lord elvaston, one of the greatest roués about town. he used to know me well enough before he came into his fortune a score of years ago, when he was not above borrowing a five-pound note from anybody who would lend him one. now, of course, he passes me as if he had never set eyes on me in his life. but such is the way of the world, more especially of the world of fashion."
then a few minutes later, "note that painted woman in the too palpable wig being driven slowly past in her yellow chariot. that is lady anne baxendale. her father was only a country rector on three hundred a year. the rectory grounds adjoined those of the house where i was born. your mother, when a girl, and little nan cotsmore were great friends. i've seen them play skipping-rope by the hour together."
but verinder had another motive in view in thus introducing his niece to one of the most striking spectacles which the metropolis has to offer for the delectation of the strangers within its gates. he wanted to excite in her bosom a feeling which should be compounded in about equal measure of envy and discontent--envy of those who, although, for the passing hour, she seemed as one of themselves, were yet as far removed from her by their wealth and position as if she and they were inhabitants of two totally different spheres (which, indeed, in one sense, they were); and discontent with the humble and prosaic surroundings of her own obscure existence. if he had read giovanna aright, it seemed to him that it ought not to be a difficult matter to foment within her the very undesirable sentiments in question.
"are you sorry, my dear, that i brought you here this afternoon?" he asked, after a longer pause than common.
"sorry! oh no, how could i be? it is a beautiful sight. nay, it is more than beautiful, it is magnificent. this is london as i used to dream of it."
"but never, i'll wager, with any thought that it might possibly one day become a reality to you."
"a reality, you mean, as far as it can become such to one who, like myself, is a mere looker-on."
"when i spoke of its becoming a reality to you, i did not mean merely as a spectator, but as an actor in the show--a recognised actor in it and acknowledged as one of themselves by the 'smartest' people here."
giovanna turned two deep wondering eyes on the captain.
"you talk in riddles, uncle," she said quietly.
"you seem to forget, my dear--or rather, perhaps, i ought to say that you fail sufficiently to realise in your thoughts--the position which is, or ought to be, yours by right of your marriage with the late john alexander clare. you are the widow of the heir of withington chase, the daughter-in-law of a wealthy baronet of ancient family. as such, your proper position is there--there, as one of the glittering throng passing and repassing before our eyes. you ought to be riding in your own brougham or barouche, with your own coachman and footman. you ought to be wearing the family diamonds--who has so much right to them as you?--and where is there another woman who would show them off to better advantage? you ought to have your own little establishment in town, with your own servants--say, a flat of six or seven rooms somewhere in belgravia, where you could invite your old uncle to come and see you as often as you might feel inclined for his company. i repeat, that all these things ought of right to be yours."
giovanna's nostrils dilated, a hard cold glitter came into her eyes, her bosom began to rise and fall more quickly than it was wont to do; there was a chord in her somewhat lymphatic nature which responded to her uncle's words. her own diamonds, her own carriage, her own establishment in london, and, above all, to be transformed from a nobody into a somebody, and to have the great world of rank and fashion recognise her as one of themselves! oh, it was too much! the vision was too dazzling. a low cry, half of pain, half of pleasure, broke from her. the captain was watching her out of a corner of his eye. but presently a chill struck her and her face blanched a little. turning to verinder, she said:
"but you seem to have forgotten, uncle, that sir gilbert clare does not so much as know of my existence--nay, the chances are that he was not even aware that his son was ever married."
"but i mean him to be made aware both of one fact and the other before he is very much older," responded the captain with a sinister smile. "ah! a spot or two of rain. we had better be moving." then, as they rose: "there is only one course open to us, vanna mia," he whispered meaningly, "and that is, to find sir gilbert an heir."
