A Coin of Edward VII: A Detective Story, Page 3

  CHAPTER II

  AN ANONYMOUS LETTER

  After the riot of the evening came the silence of the night. Thechildren departed amidst the stormy laughter of Morley, and it wasAnne's task to see that the triplets were put comfortably to bed. Shesat in the nursery, and watched the washing and undressing andhair-curling, and listened to their joyous chatter about the wonderfulpresents and the wonderful pleasures of that day. Afterwards, when theywere safely tucked away, she went down to supper and received thecompliments of Morley on her capability in entertaining children. Mrs.Morley also, and in a more genuine way, added her quota of praise.

  "You are my right hand, Miss Denham," she said, with a smile in herweary blue eyes. "I don't know what I shall do without you."

  "Oh, Miss Denham is not going," said the master of the house.

  "Who knows?" smiled Anne. "I have always been a wanderer, and it may bethat I shall be called away suddenly."

  It was on the tip of Morley's tongue to ask by whom, but the hardeningof Anne's face and the flash of her dark eyes made him change his mind.All the same he concluded that there was someone by whom she might besummoned and guessed also that the obeying of the call would come as anunwilling duty. Mrs. Morley saw nothing of this. She had not much brainpower, and what she had was devoted to considerations dealing with thepassing hour. At the present moment she could only think that it wastime for supper, and that all present were hungry and tired.

  Hungry Anne certainly was not, but she confessed to feeling weary.Making some excuse she retired to her room, but not to sleep. When thedoor was locked she put on her dressing-gown, shook down her long blackhair, and sat by the fire.

  Her thoughts were not pleasant. Filled with shame at the knowledge ofhis treachery towards the woman he was engaged to marry, Giles had keptclose to Daisy's side during supper and afterwards. He strove tointerest himself in her somewhat childish chatter, and made her so happyby his mere presence that her face was shining with smiles. Transfiguredby love and by gratified vanity, Daisy looked really pretty, and in herheart was scornful of poor Anne thus left out in the cold. She concludedthat Giles loved her best after all, and did not see how he every nowand then stealthily glanced at the governess wearily striving tointerest herself in the breezy conversation of Morley or the domesticchatter of his wife. In her heart Anne had felt a pang at thisdesertion, although she knew that it was perfectly justifiable, andunable to bear the sight of Daisy's brilliant face, she retired thusearly.

  She loved Giles. It was no use blinking the fact. She loved him withevery fibre of her nature, and with a passion far stronger than could befelt for him by the golden-haired doll with the shallow eyes. For Gilesshe would have lost the world, but she would not have him lose his forher. And, after all, she had no right to creep like a serpent into theEden of silly, prattling Daisy. In her own puny way the child--for shewas little else--adored Giles, and as he was her affianced lover itwould be base to come between her and her god. But Anne knew in herheart that Giles loved her best. If she did but lift her hand he wouldleave all and follow her to the world's end. But lift her hand she wouldnot. It would be too cruel to break the butterfly Daisy on such apainful wheel. Anne loved sufficiently to be large and generous in hernature, and therefore broke her own heart to spare the breaking ofanother woman's. Certainly Giles was as unhappy as she was; that waspatent in his looks and bearing. But he had forged his own chains, andcould not break them without dishonor. And come what may, Giles wouldalways love her best.

  Anne's meditations were disturbed by a knock at the door. Glancing atthe clock, she saw it was close on midnight, and wondering who wished tosee her at so late an hour, she opened the door. Daisy, in a bluedressing-gown, with her golden hair loose and her face flushed, enteredthe room. She skipped towards Anne with a happy laugh, and threw herarms round her neck.

  "I could not sleep without telling you how happy I am," she said, andwith a look of triumph displayed the ring.

  Anne's heart beat violently at this visible sign of the barrier betweenher and Giles. However, she was too clever a woman to betray heremotion, and examined the ring with a forced smile.

  "Diamonds for your eyes, rubies for your lips," she said softly. "A verypretty fancy."

  Daisy was annoyed. She would rather that Anne had betrayed herself bysome rude speech, or at least by a discomposed manner. To make her heartache Daisy had come, and from all she could see she had notaccomplished her aim. However, she still tried to wring some sign ofemotion from the expression or lips of the calm governess.

  "Giles promised me a ring over and over again," she said, her eyes fixedon Anne. "We have been engaged for over six months. He asked me justbefore you came, although it was always an understood thing. His fatherand mine arranged the engagement, you know. I didn't like the idea atfirst, as I wanted to make my own choice. Every girl should, I think.Don't you?"

  "Certainly," Anne forced herself to say, "but you love Mr. Ware."

  Daisy nodded. "Very, very much," she assented emphatically. "I must haveloved him without knowing it, but I was only certain when he asked me tomarry him. How lucky it is he has to make me his wife!" she sighed. "Ifhe were not bound----" Here she stopped suddenly, and looked into theother woman's eyes.

  "What nonsense!" said Anne good-humoredly, and more composed than ever."Mr. Ware loves you dearly. You are the one woman he would choose forhis wife. There is no compulsion about his choice, my dear."

  "Do you really think so?" demanded the girl feverishly. "I thought--itwas the ring, you know."

  "What do you mean, Daisy?"

  "He never would give me the ring, although I said it was ridiculous fora girl to be engaged without one. He always made some excuse, and onlyto-night---- But I have him safe now," she added, with a fierceabruptness, "and I'll keep him."

  "Nobody wants to take him from you, dear."

  "Do you really think so?" said Miss Kent again. "Then why did he delaygiving me the ring?"

  Anne knew well enough. After her first three meetings with Giles she hadseen the love light in his eyes, and his reluctance to bind himselfirrevocably with the ring was due to a hope that something might happento permit his choosing for himself. But nothing had happened, the age ofmiracles being past, and the vow to his dead father bound him. Thereforeon this very night he had locked his shackles and had thrown away thekey. Anne had made it plain to him that she could not, nor would she,help him to play a dishonorable part. He had accepted his destiny, andnow Daisy asked why he had not accepted it before. Anne made a feebleexcuse, the best she could think of.

  "Perhaps he did not see a ring pretty enough," she said.

  "It might be that," replied Daisy reflectively. "Giles has such goodtaste. You did not show me what he gave you to-night."

  Miss Denham would rather not have shown it, but she had no excuse torefuse a sight of the gift. Without a word she slipped the bangle fromher wrist--Daisy's jealous eyes noted that she had kept it on tillnow--and handed it to the girl.

  "Oh, how sweet and pretty!" she cried, with artificial cordiality. "Justa ring of gold with a coin attached. May I look?" And without waitingfor permission she ran to the lamp.

  The coin was a half-sovereign of Edward VII., with three stones--adiamond, an amethyst, and a pearl--set in a triangle. A thin ring ofgold attached it to the bangle. Daisy was not ill pleased that the giftwas so simple. Her engagement ring was much more costly.

  "It's a cheap thing," she said contemptuously. "The coin is quitecommon."

  "It will be rare some day," said Anne, slipping the bangle on her wrist."The name of the King is spelt on this one 'Edwardus,' whereas in theLatin it should be 'Edvardus.' I believe the issue is to be called in.Consequently coins of this sort will be rare some day. It was kind ofMr. Ware to give it to me."

  Daisy paid no attention to this explanation. "An amethyst, a diamond,and a pearl," she said. "Why did he have those three stones set in thehalf-sovereign?"

  Anne turned away her face, for it was burnin
g red. She knew very wellwhat the stones signified, but she was not going to tell this jealouscreature. Daisy's wits, however, were made keen by her secret anger, andafter a few moments of thought she jumped up, clapping her hands.

  "I see it--the initials of your name. Amethyst stands for Anne andDiamond for Denham."

  "It might be so," replied Miss Denham coldly.

  "It is so," said Daisy, her small face growing white and pinched. "Butwhat does the pearl mean? Ah, that you are a pearl!"

  "Nonsense, Daisy. Go you to bed, and don't imagine things."

  "It is not imagination," cried the girl shrilly, "and you know thatwell, Anne. What right have you to come and steal Giles from me?"

  "He is yours," said Anne sharply. "The ring----"

  "Oh, yes, the ring. I have his promise to marry me, but you have hisheart. Don't I know. Give me that bangle." And she stretched out herhand with a clutching gesture.

  "No," said Anne sternly, "I shall keep my present. Go to bed. You areovertired. To-morrow you will be wiser."

  "I am wise now--too wise. You have made Giles love you."

  "I have not; I swear I have not," said Anne, beginning to lose hercomposure.

  "You have, and you love him; I see it in your face. Who are you to comeinto my life and spoil it?"

  "I am a governess. That is all you need to know."

  "You look like a governess," said Daisy, insultingly. "I believe you area bad woman, and came here to steal Giles from me."

  "Daisy!"--Anne rose to her feet and walked towards the door--"I have hadquite enough of your hysterical nonsense. If you came here to insult mein this way, it is time you went. Mr. Ware and I were complete strangersto one another when I came here."

  "Strangers! And what are you now?"

  "Friends--nothing more, nothing less."

  "So you say; and I daresay Giles would say the same thing did I askhim."

  Anne's face grew white and set. She seized the foolish, hystericallittle creature by the wrist and shook her. "I'll tell you one thing,"she said softly, and her threat was the more terrible for the softness,"I have black blood in my veins, for I was born at Martinique, and ifyou talk to Giles about me, I'll--I'll--kill you. Go and pray to Godthat you may be rid of this foolishness."

  Daisy, wide-eyed, pallid, and thoroughly frightened, fled whimpering,and sought refuge in her own room. Anne closed the door, and locked itso as to prevent a repetition of this unpleasant visit. Then she went toopen the window, for the air of the room seemed tainted by the presenceof Daisy. Flinging wide the casement, Anne leaned out into the bitterair and looked at the wonderful white snow-world glittering in the thin,chill moonlight. She drew several long breaths, and became morecomposed. Sufficient, indeed, to wonder why she had behaved in somelodramatic a fashion. It was not her custom to so far break throughthe conventions of civilization. But the insults of Daisy had stirred inher that wild negro blood to which she had referred. That this girl whohad all should grudge her the simple Christmas present made Annefurious. Yet in spite of her righteous anger she could not help feelingsorry for Daisy. And, after all, the girl's jealousy had some foundationin truth. Anne had given her no cause, but she could not deny that sheloved Giles and that he loved her. To end an impossible situation therewas nothing for it but flight.

  Next day Anne quite determined to give Mrs. Morley notice, but when shefound that Daisy said nothing about her visit, she decided to remainsilent. Unless the girl made herself impossible, Anne did not see whyshe should turn out of a good situation where she was earning excellentwages. Daisy avoided her, and was coldly polite on such occasions asthey had to speak. Seeing this, Anne forbore to force her company uponthe unhappy girl and attended to her duties.

  These were sufficiently pleasant, for the three children adored her.They were not clever, but extremely pretty and gentle in their manners.Mrs. Morley often came to sit and sew in the schoolroom while Annetaught. She was fond of the quiet, calm governess, and prattled to herjust as though she were a child herself of the perfections of Mr. Morleyand her unhappy early life. For the sake of the children she forbore tomention the name of their father, who from her account had been a sadrascal.

  Giles came sometimes to dine, but attended chiefly to Daisy. Anne wascontent that this should be so, and her rival made the most of the smalltriumph. Indeed, so attentive was Giles that Daisy came to believe shehad been wrong in suspecting he loved the governess. She made nofurther reference to Anne, but when Miss Denham was present narrowlywatched her attitude and that of Ware. Needless to say she saw nothingto awaken her suspicions, for both Giles and Anne were most careful tohide their real feelings. So far the situation was endurable, but itcould not continue indefinitely. Anne made up her mind to leave.

  On the day before New Year she was wondering what excuse she could maketo get away when an incident happened which set her duty plainly beforeher and did away with all necessity for an excuse. It occurred atbreakfast.

  The little man was fond of his meals, and enjoyed his breakfast morethan any other. He had the most wonderful arrangement for keeping thedishes hot--a rather needless proceeding, as he was invariably punctual.So were Mrs. Morley and Anne, for breakfast being at nine o'clock theyhad no excuse for being late. Nevertheless, Daisy rarely contrived to bein time, and Morley was much vexed by her persistent unpunctuality. Onthis occasion she arrived late as usual, but more cheerful. She evergreeted Anne with a certain amount of politeness.

  "There's a letter for you," said Morley, "but if you will take my adviceyou will leave it until breakfast is over. I never read mine until aftera meal. Bad news is so apt to spoil one's appetite."

  "How do you know the news will be bad?" asked Daisy.

  "Most news is," replied Morley, with a shade on his usually merry face."Debts, duns, and difficulties!" and he looked ruefully at the pile ofletters by his plate. "I haven't examined my correspondence yet."

  Anne said nothing, as she was thinking of what arrangement she couldmake to get away. Suddenly she and the others were startled by a cryfrom Daisy. The girl had opened the letter and was staring at it with apale face. Anne half rose from her seat, but Mrs. Morley anticipatedher, and ran round to put her hand on the girl's shoulder. "Daisy, whatis the matter?"

  "The--the--letter!" gasped Daisy, with chattering teeth. Then she cast alook full of terror at the astonished Anne. "She will kill me," criedthe girl, and fell off the chair in a faint.

  Morley hastily snatched up the letter. It was unsigned, and apparentlywritten in an uneducated hand on common paper. He read it out hurriedly,while Anne and Mrs. Morley stood amazed to hear its contents.

  "'Honored Miss,'" read Morley slowly, "'this is from a well-wisher tosay that you must not trust the governess, who will kill you, because ofG. W. and the Scarlet Cross.'"

  Anne uttered a cry and sank back into her chair white as the snow out ofdoors. "The Scarlet Cross," she murmured, "again the Scarlet Cross."