The Clue (2 page)

“You know Mr. Willard is in love with Maddy,” suggested Miss French.

“Oh, it isn't that they've always had a cousinly affection for each other, and,—yes, Tom is in love with her,—but what I mean is aside from all that. The real reason that Madeleine flirts with Tom—for she
does
flirt with him—is to pique Mr. Carleton. There! I've said more than I meant to, but you're too good a friend to let it make any trouble, and, any way, in a few days they will be married, and then I'm sure it will be all right,—I'm
sure
of it.”

Like many people, Mrs. Markham emphasized by repetition a statement of whose truth she was far from sure.

II

MISS MORTON ARRIVES

THE DAY BEFORE THE wedding the old house was a pleasant scene of bustle and confusion.

Professional decorators were in charge of the great drawing-room, building a canopy of green vines and flowers, beneath which the bridal pair should stand the next day at high noon.

This work was greatly hindered by a bevy of young people who thought they were helping.

At last, noting a look of dumb exasperation on the face of one of the florist's men, Molly Gardner exclaimed, “I don't believe our help is needed here; come on, Kitty, let's go in the library and wait for tea-time.”

It was nearly five o'clock, and the girls found most of the house guests already assembled in the library, awaiting the arrival of the tea-tray.

Several other young people were there also, most of them being those who were to be of the wedding cortege next day.

Robert Fessenden, who was to be best man, had just come from New York, and had dropped in to see Miss Van Norman.

Although he was an old friend of Carleton's, Madeleine did not know him very well, and though she made him welcome, it was with that coldly formal air that did not greatly attract the young man, but he could not fail to be impressed by her great beauty.

“Lucky fellow, Carleton,” he said to Tom Willard. “Why, that woman would create a sensation in any great city in the world.”

“Yes, she is too handsome to live all her life in a small village,” agreed Tom. “I think they intend to travel a great deal.”

“An heiress, too, I believe.”

“Yes, she has all the desirable traits a woman can possess.”

“All?” Fessenden's tone was quizzical.

“What do you mean?” asked Tom sharply.

“Nothing; only, if I were to marry, I should prefer a little more softness of nature.”

“Oh, that's only her manner. My cousin is most sweet and womanly, I assure you.”

“I'm sure she is,” returned Fessenden, who was a bit ashamed of his outspokenness; “and she's getting a sterling good fellow for a husband.”

“She is so,” said Tom, heartily, which was kind of him, considering his own opinion of Carleton.

And then both men strolled over to where Madeleine sat at the tea-table. She was reading a telegram that had just been brought to her, and she laughingly explained to Tom that it meant a bother for him.

“Miss Morton has concluded to come to the wedding, after all,” she said. “She wrote me that she wouldn't come, but she has changed her mind, it seems. Now, it does sound ridiculous, I know, but in this big house there isn't a room left for her but the one you have, Tom. You see, one bedroom is used for a ‘present room,' one is reserved for Schuyler to-morrow, the bridesmaids have another, and except for our own rooms, and those already occupied by guests, there are no more. I hate to ask you, Tom, but could you go to the Inn?”

“Sure, Maddy dear; anything to oblige. But it does seem too bad to turn me out of your house the very last day that your hospitality is all your own to offer. To-morrow the grand Seigneur will be master here, and my timid little Madeleine can no longer call her soul her own.”

This reference to the tall and stately mistress of the house raised a general laugh, but Madeleine did not join in it.

“I'm so sorry, Tom,” she said earnestly, as she looked again at the telegram she was holding, “but Miss Morton was an old friend of Uncle Richard's, and as she wants to come here I can't turn her away. And unless you give her your room, there is no other.”

“Nonsense, Madeleine! I'm only joking. Of course I'll go to the hotel. Only too glad to accommodate Miss Morton. Forget it, girl; I assure you I don't mind a bit. I'll pack up a few traps after dinner and skip down to the picturesque, if rather ostentatious, Mapleton Inn.”

As Tom spoke he put his arm carelessly round Madeleine's shoulders, and though scarcely more than a cousinly caress, it was unfortunate that Schuyler Carleton should enter the room at that moment. A lightning glance flashed between the two men, and as Tom moved away from Madeleine with a slightly embarrassed shrug of his shoulders, Carleton's face grew so stern that an uncomfortable silence fell upon the guests.

However, the arrival of the tea-tray saved the situation, and Madeleine at once busied herself in the pretty occupation of serving tea to her guests.

With an air of jealous proprietorship, Carleton moved toward her and, looking handsome, though sulky, stood by Willard with folded arms, as if on guard.

Urged on by a daredevil spirit of mischief, and perhaps remembering that Madeleine would soon be beyond his reach as Carleton's wife, Tom also moved toward her from the other side. Endeavoring to treat the situation lightly, Madeleine held up a newly-filled teacup.

“Who will have this?” she asked gaily.

“I will!” declared Carleton and Tom at the same time, and each held out a hand.

Madeleine looked at them both smilingly.

Carleton's face was white and set; he was evidently making a serious matter of the trifling episode.

Tom, on the contrary, was smiling broadly, and was quite evidently enjoying his rival's discomfiture.

“I shall give it to you, because you look so pleasant,” declared Madeleine, handing the cup to Tom. “Now, Schuyler, smile prettily and you may have one, too.”

But Carleton would not fall in with her light mood.

Bending a little, he said in a tense voice, “I will leave you to your cousin now. To-morrow I shall assert my claim.”

Though not rude in themselves, the words were accompanied by a harsh and disdainful glance that made several of the onlookers wonder what sort of a life the haughty Madeleine would lead with such a coldly tyrannical husband.

“The brute!” said Tom, under his breath, as Carleton left the room. “Never mind, Maddy, the old Turk has left you to me for this evening, and we'll take him at his word.”

Suddenly Madeleine's mood changed to one of utter gaiety. She smiled impartially on all, she jested with the girls, she bewitched the young men with her merry banter, and she almost seemed to be flirting with Tom Willard. But he was her cousin, after all, and much is forgiven a bride-to-be on her wedding eve.

Robert Fessenden looked at Miss Van Norman with a puzzled air. He couldn't seem to understand her, and was glad when by chance the two were left comparatively alone for a few moments' conversation.

“A great responsibility devolves on the best man, Miss Van Norman,” he said, in response to a chaffing remark of hers. “I suppose that to-morrow I shall be general director-in-chief, and if anything
should
go wrong, I shall be blamed.”

“But nothing
will
go wrong,” said Madeleine, gaily, “and then, think how you'll be praised!”

“Ah, but you won't be here to hear the praise heaped upon me, so what's the use?”

“No, I shall be gone forever,” said Madeleine, putting on one of her faraway looks. “I never want to come back to Mapleton. I hate it!”

“Why, Miss Van Norman! You want to desert this beautiful old house? Schuyler can never find you a home so comfortable and attractive in every way.”

“I don't care. I want to go far away from Mapleton to live. We're going to travel for a year, any way, but when we do settle down, it will be abroad, I hope.”

“You surprise me. Schuyler didn't tell me this. We've been chums so long, that I usually know of his plans. But, of course, getting married changes all that.”

“You're a very intimate friend of Mr. Carleton's, aren't you?” said Madeleine, with a strange note of wistfulness in her voice.

“Yes, I am. Why?”

“Oh, nothing; I only thought—I mean, do you think.”

Rob Fessenden was thrilled by the plaintive expression on the beautiful face, and suddenly felt a great desire to help this girl, who was seemingly so far above and beyond all need of help, and yet was surely about to ask his aid, or at least his sympathy.

“Don't hesitate,” he said gently; “what is it, Miss Van Norman? I want to be as firm a friend of yours as I am of Schuyler's, so please say what you wish to.”

“I can't—I can't,” Madeleine whispered, and her voice was almost a moan.

“Please,” again urged Fessenden.

“Do you know Dorothy Burt?” Madeleine then broke out, as if the words were fairly forced from her.

“No,” said Fessenden, amazed, “I never heard the name before. Who is she?”

“Hush! She's nobody—less than nobody. Don't mention her to me ever again—nor to any one else. Ah, here comes Miss Morton.”

As Fessenden watched Madeleine, she changed swiftly from a perturbed, troubled girl to a courteous, polished hostess.

“My dear Miss Morton,” she said, advancing to meet her newest guest, “how kind of you to come to me at this time.”

“I didn't come exactly out of kindness,” said Miss Morton, “but because I desired to come. I hope you are quite well. Will you give me some tea?”

Miss Morton was a tall, angular lady, with gray hair and sharp, black eyes. She seemed to bite off her words at the ends of her short sentences, and had a brisk, alert manner that was, in a way, aggressive.

“An eccentric,” Rob Fessenden thought, as he looked at her, and wondered why she was there at all.

“An old sweetheart of Mr. Richard Van Norman, I believe,” said Kitty French, when he questioned her. “They were once engaged and then quarreled and broke it off, and neither of them lived happily ever after.”

“As the Carletons
will
,”
said Fessenden, smiling.

“Yes,” said Kitty slowly, “as the Carletons will—I hope. You know Mr. Carleton awfully well, don't you? Are you sure he will make our Maddy happy, Mr. Fessenden?”

“I think so,” and Fessenden tried to speak casually. “He is not an emotional man, or one greatly given to sentiment, but I judge she is not that sort either.”

“Oh, yes, she is! Maddy is apparently cold and cynical, but she isn't really so a bit. But she perfectly adores him, and if they're not happy, it won't be her fault.”

“Nor will it be his,” said Fessenden, warmly defending his absent friend. “Carleton's an old trump. There's no finer man in the world, and any woman ought to be happy with him.”

“I'm glad to hear you say that,” said Kitty, with a little sigh of relief. “Do look at that funny Miss Morton! She seems to be scolding Madeleine. I'm sorry she came. She doesn't seem very attractive. But perhaps it's because she was crossed in love and it made her queer.”

“Or she was queered in love and it made her cross,” laughed Fessenden. “Well, I must go, now, and look up Carleton. Poor old boy, he was a little miffed when he went away.”

After tea all the callers departed, and those who were house guests went to their rooms to dress for dinner.

Tom Willard, with great show of burlesque regret and tearful farewells, went to the hotel, that Miss Morton might have the room he had been occupying.

He promised to return for dinner, and gaily blew kisses to Madeleine as with his traps he was driven down the avenue.

At dinner, Schuyler Carleton's place was vacant. It had been arranged next to Madeleine's, and when fifteen minutes after the dinner hour he had not arrived, she haughtily accepted Tom Willard's arm and led the way to the dining-room.

But having reached the table, she directed Tom to take his rightful seat, at some distance from her own, and Carleton's chair remained empty at Madeleine's side.

At first this was uncomfortably evident, but Madeleine was in gay spirits, and soon the whole party followed her lead, and the conversation was general and in a merry key.

The young hostess had never looked more regally beautiful. Her dark hair, piled high on her head, was adorned with a dainty ornament which, though only a twisted ribbon, was shaped like a crown, and gave her the effect of an imperious queen. Her lowcut gown of pale yellow satin was severe of line and accented her stately bearing, while her exquisitely modeled neck and shoulders were as white and pure as those of a marble statue. Save for a double row of pearls around her throat, she wore no ornaments, but on the morrow Carleton's gift of magnificent diamonds would grace her bridal costume. The combination of haughty imperial beauty and a dazzling witchery of mood was irresistible, and the men and girls alike realized that never before had Madeleine seemed so wonderful.

After the dessert was placed on the table, Willard could stand it no longer, and, leaving his own place, he calmly appropriated Carleton's vacant chair.

Madeleine did not reprove him, and Kitty French took occasion to whisper to her neighbor:

“'T were better by far to have matched our fair cousin to brave Lochinvar.”

Mrs. Markham overheard the quotation, and a look of pain came into her eyes. But it was all too late now, and to-morrow Madeleine would be irrevocably Schuyler Carleton's wife.

After dinner coffee was served in the cozy library. Madeleine preferred this room to the more elaborately furnished drawing-room, and to-night her word was law.

But suddenly her mood changed. For no apparent reason her gay spirits vanished, her smile faded away, and a pathetic droop curved the corners of her beautiful mouth.

At about ten o'clock she said abruptly, though gently, “I wish you'd all go to bed. Unless you girls get some beauty sleep, you won't look pretty at my wedding to-morrow.”

“I'm quite ready to go,” declared Kitty French with some tact, for she saw that Madeleine was nervous and strung up to a high tension.

“I, too,” exclaimed Molly Gardner, and the two girls said good-night and went upstairs.

Two or three young men who had been dinner guests also made their adieux, and Tom Willard said, “Well, I may as well toddle to my comforts of home, as understood by a country innkeeper.”

Madeleine said good-night to him kindly enough, but without jest or gaiety. Tom looked at her curiously for a moment, and then, gently kissing her hand, he went away.