A woman's trust; or, Lady Elaine's martyrdom : $b a novelClay, Bertha M.
General
A woman's trust; or, Lady Elaine's martyrdom : $b a novel
Clay, Bertha M.
Dime novels; England -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Popular literature
“Ah! you surprise me, Lady Elaine; indeed you do. I am astonished that
any man can so easily relinquish so great a prize as yourself and a
princely income--particularly when that man is so needy as Viscount
Rivington. It is not generally known, but within the last three months
the Viscount’s name has been filed in bankruptcy by importunate
creditors, and he has only escaped a receiving order by very doubtful
practices. He has made known the contents of your father’s will to
several money lenders for pecuniary reasons purely, and his marriage
with you means, at least, social salvation to him. You wonder how these
things come to my ears? My dear child, a lawyer gets such knowledge
without any seeking. I only say, be careful of Viscount Rivington.”
“I am deeply sorry for him if all this is true,” Lady Elaine said.
“And now as to your future movements,” went on Mr. Worboys.
“Yes. My maid and I will rent a small house somewhere in the
suburbs--until--until----”
“I understand what you mean. Until something lucky happens, eh?” he
smiled. “Well, it appears to me that I can do little or nothing for
you, Lady Elaine, but remember that I am always at your service. Let me
know where you reside when you are settled, and if you require a small
advance for furniture or anything of that kind, don’t go to any one
else.”
“Thank you, Mr. Worboys; you are extremely kind, but I have a reserve
fund amounting to a few hundreds.”
A little later the old lawyer bowed my lady out, and Viscount Rivington
escorted her back to her hotel.
The next few days were so full of busy hours that Lady Elaine almost
forgot her pitiful lot. The viscount managed to secure a bijou villa
within half a mile of Hyde Park. It was a pretty little place, set in
an acre of garden, and the whole was surrounded by a high brick wall.
To add to its advantage, the villa was already furnished, and the agent
who let it to the viscount proudly announced that the last occupant had
been a Russian prince.
“I have taken it in my own name,” he explained to Elaine, “to save the
bother of references and the needless exposure consequent upon such
a course. You have no idea how loth people are to have responsible
business transactions exclusively with ladies. I have paid the rent
three months in advance--a matter of fifty guineas, which includes all
rates and taxes--so that you will not be bothered by anybody. Here is
the key to the house. Now I am leaving London for a week or two to join
some friends in Scotland, but if you require anything at my hands, a
telegram will promptly bring me back.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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