The Lady of the Shroud Page 2

  BOOK I: THE WILL OF ROGER MELTON

  The Reading of the Will of Roger Melton and all that Followed

  Record made by Ernest Roger Halbard Melton, law-student of the InnerTemple, eldest son of Ernest Halbard Melton, eldest son of Ernest Melton,elder brother of the said Roger Melton and his next of kin.

  I consider it at least useful--perhaps necessary--to have a complete andaccurate record of all pertaining to the Will of my late grand-uncleRoger Melton.

  To which end let me put down the various members of his family, andexplain some of their occupations and idiosyncrasies. My father, ErnestHalbard Melton, was the only son of Ernest Melton, eldest son of SirGeoffrey Halbard Melton of Humcroft, in the shire of Salop, a Justice ofthe Peace, and at one time Sheriff. My great-grandfather, Sir Geoffrey,had inherited a small estate from his father, Roger Melton. In his time,by the way, the name was spelled Milton; but my great-great-grandfatherchanged the spelling to the later form, as he was a practical man notgiven to sentiment, and feared lest he should in the public eye beconfused with others belonging to the family of a Radical person calledMilton, who wrote poetry and was some sort of official in the time ofCromwell, whilst we are Conservatives. The same practical spirit whichoriginated the change in the spelling of the family name inclined him togo into business. So he became, whilst still young, a tanner andleather-dresser. He utilized for the purpose the ponds and streams, andalso the oak-woods on his estate--Torraby in Suffolk. He made a finebusiness, and accumulated a considerable fortune, with a part of which hepurchased the Shropshire estate, which he entailed, and to which I amtherefore heir-apparent.

  Sir Geoffrey had, in addition to my grandfather, three sons and adaughter, the latter being born twenty years after her youngest brother.These sons were: Geoffrey, who died without issue, having been killed inthe Indian Mutiny at Meerut in 1857, at which he took up a sword, thougha civilian, to fight for his life; Roger (to whom I shall referpresently); and John--the latter, like Geoffrey, dying unmarried. Out ofSir Geoffrey's family of five, therefore, only three have to beconsidered: My grandfather, who had three children, two of whom, a sonand a daughter, died young, leaving only my father, Roger and Patience.Patience, who was born in 1858, married an Irishman of the name ofSellenger--which was the usual way of pronouncing the name of St. Leger,or, as they spelled it, Sent Leger--restored by later generations to thestill older form. He was a reckless, dare-devil sort of fellow, then aCaptain in the Lancers, a man not without the quality of bravery--he wonthe Victoria Cross at the Battle of Amoaful in the Ashantee Campaign.But I fear he lacked the seriousness and steadfast strenuous purposewhich my father always says marks the character of our own family. Heran through nearly all of his patrimony--never a very large one; and hadit not been for my grand-aunt's little fortune, his days, had he lived,must have ended in comparative poverty. Comparative, not actual; for theMeltons, who are persons of considerable pride, would not have tolerateda poverty-stricken branch of the family. We don't think much of thatlot--any of us.

  Fortunately, my great-aunt Patience had only one child, and the prematuredecease of Captain St. Leger (as I prefer to call the name) did not allowof the possibility of her having more. She did not marry again, thoughmy grandmother tried several times to arrange an alliance for her. Shewas, I am told, always a stiff, uppish person, who would not yieldherself to the wisdom of her superiors. Her own child was a son, whoseemed to take his character rather from his father's family than from myown. He was a wastrel and a rolling stone, always in scrapes at school,and always wanting to do ridiculous things. My father, as Head of theHouse and his own senior by eighteen years, tried often to admonish him;but his perversity of spirit and his truculence were such that he had todesist. Indeed, I have heard my father say that he sometimes threatenedhis life. A desperate character he was, and almost devoid of reverence.No one, not even my father, had any influence--good influence, of course,I mean--over him, except his mother, who was of my family; and also awoman who lived with her--a sort of governess--aunt, he called her. Theway of it was this: Captain St. Leger had a younger brother, who made animprovident marriage with a Scotch girl when they were both very young.They had nothing to live on except what the reckless Lancer gave them,for he had next to nothing himself, and she was "bare"--which is, Iunderstand, the indelicate Scottish way of expressing lack of fortune.She was, however, I understand, of an old and somewhat good family,though broken in fortune--to use an expression which, however, couldhardly be used precisely in regard to a family or a person who never hadfortune to be broken in! It was so far well that the MacKelpies--thatwas the maiden name of Mrs. St. Leger--were reputable--so far as fightingwas concerned. It would have been too humiliating to have allied to ourfamily, even on the distaff side, a family both poor and of no account.Fighting alone does not make a family, I think. Soldiers are noteverything, though they think they are. We have had in our family menwho fought; but I never heard of any of them who fought because they_wanted_ to. Mrs. St. Leger had a sister; fortunately there were onlythose two children in the family, or else they would all have had to besupported by the money of my family.

  Mr. St. Leger, who was only a subaltern, was killed at Maiwand; and hiswife was left a beggar. Fortunately, however, she died--her sisterspread a story that it was from the shock and grief--before the childwhich she expected was born. This all happened when my cousin--or,rather, my father's cousin, my first-cousin-once-removed, to beaccurate--was still a very small child. His mother then sent for MissMacKelpie, her brother-in-law's sister-in-law, to come and live with her,which she did--beggars can't be choosers; and she helped to bring upyoung St. Leger.

  I remember once my father giving me a sovereign for making a witty remarkabout her. I was quite a boy then, not more than thirteen; but ourfamily were always clever from the very beginning of life, and father wastelling me about the St. Leger family. My family hadn't, of course, seenanything of them since Captain St. Leger died--the circle to which webelong don't care for poor relations--and was explaining where MissMacKelpie came in. She must have been a sort of nursery governess, forMrs. St. Leger once told him that she helped her to educate the child.

  "Then, father," I said, "if she helped to educate the child she ought tohave been called Miss MacSkelpie!"

  When my first-cousin-once-removed, Rupert, was twelve years old, hismother died, and he was in the dolefuls about it for more than a year.Miss MacKelpie kept on living with him all the same. Catch her quitting!That sort don't go into the poor-house when they can keep out! Myfather, being Head of the Family, was, of course, one of the trustees,and his uncle Roger, brother of the testator, another. The third wasGeneral MacKelpie, a poverty-stricken Scotch laird who had a lot ofvalueless land at Croom, in Ross-shire. I remember father gave me a newten-pound note when I interrupted him whilst he was telling me of theincident of young St. Leger's improvidence by remarking that he was inerror as to the land. From what I had heard of MacKelpie's estate, itwas productive of one thing; when he asked me "What?" I answered"Mortgages!" Father, I knew, had bought, not long before, a lot of themat what a college friend of mine from Chicago used to call "cut-throat"price. When I remonstrated with my father for buying them at all, and soinjuring the family estate which I was to inherit, he gave me an answer,the astuteness of which I have never forgotten.

  "I did it so that I might keep my hand on the bold General, in case heshould ever prove troublesome. And if the worst should ever come to theworst, Croom is a good country for grouse and stags!" My father can seeas far as most men!

  When my cousin--I shall call him cousin henceforth in this record, lestit might seem to any unkind person who might hereafter read it that Iwished to taunt Rupert St. Leger with his somewhat obscure position, inreiterating his real distance in kinship with my family--when my cousin,Rupert St. Leger, wished to commit a certain idiotic act of financialfolly, he approached my father on the subject, arriving at our estate,Humcroft, at an inconvenient time, without
permission, not having hadeven the decent courtesy to say he was coming. I was then a little chapof six years old, but I could not help noticing his mean appearance. Hewas all dusty and dishevelled. When my father saw him--I came into thestudy with him--he said in a horrified voice:

  "Good God!" He was further shocked when the boy brusquely acknowledged,in reply to my father's greeting, that he had travelled third class. Ofcourse, none of my family ever go anything but first class; even theservants go second. My father was really angry when he said he hadwalked up from the station.

  "A nice spectacle for my tenants and my tradesmen! To see my--my--akinsman of my house, howsoever remote, trudging like a tramp on the roadto my estate! Why, my avenue is two miles and a perch! No wonder youare filthy and insolent!" Rupert--really, I cannot call him cousinhere--was exceedingly impertinent to my father.

  "I walked, sir, because I had no money; but I assure you I did not meanto be insolent. I simply came here because I wished to ask your adviceand assistance, not because you are an important person, and have a longavenue--as I know to my cost--but simply because you are one of mytrustees."

  "_Your_ trustees, sirrah!" said my father, interrupting him. "Yourtrustees?"

  "I beg your pardon, sir," he said, quite quietly. "I meant the trusteesof my dear mother's will."

  "And what, may I ask you," said father, "do you want in the way of advicefrom one of the trustees of your dear mother's will?" Rupert got veryred, and was going to say something rude--I knew it from his look--but hestopped, and said in the same gentle way:

  "I want your advice, sir, as to the best way of doing something which Iwish to do, and, as I am under age, cannot do myself. It must be donethrough the trustees of my mother's will."

  "And the assistance for which you wish?" said father, putting his hand inhis pocket. I know what that action means when I am talking to him.

  "The assistance I want," said Rupert, getting redder than ever, "is frommy--the trustee also. To carry out what I want to do."

  "And what may that be?" asked my father. "I would like, sir, to makeover to my Aunt Janet--" My father interrupted him by asking--he hadevidently remembered my jest:

  "Miss MacSkelpie?" Rupert got still redder, and I turned away; I didn'tquite wish that he should see me laughing. He went on quietly:

  "_MacKelpie_, sir! Miss Janet MacKelpie, my aunt, who has always been sokind to me, and whom my mother loved--I want to have made over to her themoney which my dear mother left to me." Father doubtless wished to havethe matter take a less serious turn, for Rupert's eyes were all shinywith tears which had not fallen; so after a little pause he said, withindignation, which I knew was simulated:

  "Have you forgotten your mother so soon, Rupert, that you wish to giveaway the very last gift which she bestowed on you?" Rupert was sitting,but he jumped up and stood opposite my father with his fist clenched. Hewas quite pale now, and his eyes looked so fierce that I thought he woulddo my father an injury. He spoke in a voice which did not seem like hisown, it was so strong and deep.

  "Sir!" he roared out. I suppose, if I was a writer, which, thank God, Iam not--I have no need to follow a menial occupation--I would call it"thundered." "Thundered" is a longer word than "roared," and would, ofcourse, help to gain the penny which a writer gets for a line. Fathergot pale too, and stood quite still. Rupert looked at him steadily forquite half a minute--it seemed longer at the time--and suddenly smiledand said, as he sat down again:

  "Sorry. But, of course, you don't understand such things." Then he wenton talking before father had time to say a word.

  "Let us get back to business. As you do not seem to follow me, let meexplain that it is _because_ I do not forget that I wish to do this. Iremember my dear mother's wish to make Aunt Janet happy, and would liketo do as she did."

  "_Aunt_ Janet?" said father, very properly sneering at his ignorance."She is not your aunt. Why, even her sister, who was married to youruncle, was only your aunt by courtesy." I could not help feeling thatRupert meant to be rude to my father, though his words were quite polite.If I had been as much bigger than him as he was than me, I should haveflown at him; but he was a very big boy for his age. I am myself ratherthin. Mother says thinness is an "appanage of birth."

  "My Aunt Janet, sir, is an aunt by love. Courtesy is a small word to usein connection with such devotion as she has given to us. But I needn'ttrouble you with such things, sir. I take it that my relations on theside of my own house do not affect you. I am a Sent Leger!" Fatherlooked quite taken aback. He sat quite still before he spoke.

  "Well, Mr. St. Leger, I shall think over the matter for a while, andshall presently let you know my decision. In the meantime, would youlike something to eat? I take it that as you must have started veryearly, you have not had any breakfast?" Rupert smiled quite genially:

  "That is true, sir. I haven't broken bread since dinner last night, andI am ravenously hungry." Father rang the bell, and told the footman whoanswered it to send the housekeeper. When she came, father said to her:

  "Mrs. Martindale, take this boy to your room and give him somebreakfast." Rupert stood very still for some seconds. His face had gotred again after his paleness. Then he bowed to my father, and followedMrs. Martindale, who had moved to the door.

  Nearly an hour afterwards my father sent a servant to tell him to come tothe study. My mother was there, too, and I had gone back with her. Theman came back and said:

  "Mrs. Martindale, sir, wishes to know, with her respectful service, ifshe may have a word with you." Before father could reply mother told himto bring her. The housekeeper could not have been far off--that kind aregenerally near a keyhole--for she came at once. When she came in, shestood at the door curtseying and looking pale. Father said:

  "Well?"

  "I thought, sir and ma'am, that I had better come and tell you aboutMaster Sent Leger. I would have come at once, but I feared to disturbyou."

  "Well?" Father had a stern way with servants. When I'm head of thefamily I'll tread them under my feet. That's the way to get realdevotion from servants!

  "If you please, sir, I took the young gentleman into my room and ordereda nice breakfast for him, for I could see he was half famished--a growingboy like him, and so tall! Presently it came along. It was a goodbreakfast, too! The very smell of it made even me hungry. There wereeggs and frizzled ham, and grilled kidneys, and coffee, and butteredtoast, and bloater-paste--"

  "That will do as to the menu," said mother. "Go on!"

  "When it was all ready, and the maid had gone, I put a chair to the tableand said, 'Now, sir, your breakfast is ready!' He stood up and said,'Thank you, madam; you are very kind!' and he bowed to me quite nicely,just as if I was a lady, ma'am!"

  "Go on," said mother.

  "Then, sir, he held out his hand and said, 'Good-bye, and thank you,' andhe took up his cap.

  "'But aren't you going to have any breakfast, sir?' I says.

  "'No, thank you, madam,' he said; 'I couldn't eat here . . . in thishouse, I mean!' Well, ma'am, he looked so lonely that I felt my heartmelting, and I ventured to ask him if there was any mortal thing I coulddo for him. 'Do tell me, dear,' I ventured to say. 'I am an old woman,and you, sir, are only a boy, though it's a fine man you will be--likeyour dear, splendid father, which I remember so well, and gentle likeyour poor dear mother.'

  "'You're a dear!' he says; and with that I took up his hand and kissedit, for I remember his poor dear mother so well, that was dead only ayear. Well, with that he turned his head away, and when I took him bythe shoulders and turned him round--he is only a young boy, ma'am, forall he is so big--I saw that the tears were rolling down his cheeks.With that I laid his head on my breast--I've had children of my own,ma'am, as you know, though they're all gone. He came willing enough, andsobbed for a little bit. Then he straightened himself up, and I stoodrespectfully beside him.

  "'Tell Mr. Melton,' he said, 'that I shall not trouble him abo
ut thetrustee business.'

  "'But won't you tell him yourself, sir, when you see him?' I says.

  "'I shall not see him again,' he says; 'I am going back now!'

  "Well, ma'am, I knew he'd had no breakfast, though he was hungry, andthat he would walk as he come, so I ventured to say: 'If you won't takeit a liberty, sir, may I do anything to make your going easier? Have yousufficient money, sir? If not, may I give, or lend, you some? I shallbe very proud if you will allow me to.'

  "'Yes,' he says quite hearty. 'If you will, you might lend me ashilling, as I have no money. I shall not forget it.' He said, as hetook the coin: 'I shall return the amount, though I never can thekindness. I shall keep the coin.' He took the shilling, sir--hewouldn't take any more--and then he said good-bye. At the door he turnedand walked back to me, and put his arms round me like a real boy does,and gave me a hug, and says he:

  "'Thank you a thousand times, Mrs. Martindale, for your goodness to me,for your sympathy, and for the way you have spoken of my father andmother. You have seen me cry, Mrs. Martindale,' he said; 'I don't oftencry: the last time was when I came back to the lonely house after my poordear was laid to rest. But you nor any other shall ever see a tear ofmine again.' And with that he straightened out his big back and held uphis fine proud head, and walked out. I saw him from the window stridingdown the avenue. My! but he is a proud boy, sir--an honour to yourfamily, sir, say I respectfully. And there, the proud child has goneaway hungry, and he won't, I know, ever use that shilling to buy food!"

  Father was not going to have that, you know, so he said to her:

  "He does not belong to my family, I would have you to know. True, he isallied to us through the female side; but we do not count him or his inmy family." He turned away and began to read a book. It was a decidedsnub to her.

  But mother had a word to say before Mrs. Martindale was done with.Mother has a pride of her own, and doesn't brook insolence frominferiors; and the housekeeper's conduct seemed to be rather presuming.Mother, of course, isn't quite our class, though her folk are quiteworthy and enormously rich. She is one of the Dalmallingtons, the saltpeople, one of whom got a peerage when the Conservatives went out. Shesaid to the housekeeper:

  "I think, Mrs. Martindale, that I shall not require your services afterthis day month! And as I don't keep servants in my employment when Idismiss them, here is your month's wages due on the 25th of this month,and another month in lieu of notice. Sign this receipt." She waswriting a receipt as she spoke. The other signed it without a word, andhanded it to her. She seemed quite flabbergasted. Mother got up andsailed--that is the way that mother moves when she is in a wax--out ofthe room.

  Lest I should forget it, let me say here that the dismissed housekeeperwas engaged the very next day by the Countess of Salop. I may say inexplanation that the Earl of Salop, K.G., who is Lord-Lieutenant of theCounty, is jealous of father's position and his growing influence.Father is going to contest the next election on the Conservative side,and is sure to be made a Baronet before long.

  _Letter from Major-General Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie_, _V.C._,_K.C.B._, _of Croom_, _Ross_, _N.B._, _to Rupert Sent Leger_, _Esq._, 14,_Newland Park_, _Dulwich_, _London_, _S.E._

  _July_ 4, 1892.

  MY DEAR GODSON,

  I am truly sorry I am unable to agree with your request that I should acquiesce in your desire to transfer to Miss Janet MacKelpie the property bequeathed to you by your mother, of which property I am a trustee. Let me say at once that, had it been possible to me to do so, I should have held it a privilege to further such a wish--not because the beneficiare whom you would create is a near kinswoman of my own. That, in truth, is my real difficulty. I have undertaken a trust made by an honourable lady on behalf of her only son--son of a man of stainless honour, and a dear friend of my own, and whose son has a rich heritage of honour from both parents, and who will, I am sure, like to look back on his whole life as worthy of his parents, and of those whom his parents trusted. You will see, I am sure, that whatsoever I might grant regarding anyone else, my hands are tied in this matter.

  And now let me say, my dear boy, that your letter has given me the most intense pleasure. It is an unspeakable delight to me to find in the son of your father--a man whom I loved, and a boy whom I love--the same generosity of spirit which endeared your father to all his comrades, old as well as young. Come what may, I shall always be proud of you; and if the sword of an old soldier--it is all I have--can ever serve you in any way, it and its master's life are, and shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours.

  It grieves me to think that Janet cannot, through my act, be given that ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence. But, my dear Rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more. Then, if you are in the same mind--and I am sure you will not change--you, being your own master, can do freely as you will. In the meantime, to secure, so far as I can, my dear Janet against any malign stroke of fortune, I have given orders to my factor to remit semi-annually to Janet one full half of such income as may be derived in any form from my estate of Croom. It is, I am sorry to say, heavily mortgaged; but of such as is--or may be, free from such charge as the mortgage entails--something at least will, I trust, remain to her. And, my dear boy, I can frankly say that it is to me a real pleasure that you and I can be linked in one more bond in this association of purpose. I have always held you in my heart as though you were my own son. Let me tell you now that you have acted as I should have liked a son of my own, had I been blessed with one, to have acted. God bless you, my dear.

  Yours ever, COLIN ALEX. MACKELPIE.

  _Letter from Roger Melton_, _of Openshaw Grange_, _to Rupert Sent Leger_,_Esq._, 14, _Newland Park_, _Dulwich_, _London_, _S.E._

  _July_ 1, 1892.

  MY DEAR NEPHEW,

  Your letter of the 30th ult. received. Have carefully considered matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a trustee would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish. Let me explain. The testator, in making her will, intended that such fortune as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her son such benefits as its annual product should procure. To this end, and to provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or, indeed, against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might impoverish you and so defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your education, comfort, and future good, she did not place the estate directly in your hands, leaving you to do as you might feel inclined about it. But, on the contrary, she entrusted the corpus of it in the hands of men whom she believed should be resolute enough and strong enough to carry out her intent, even against any cajolements or pressure which might be employed to the contrary. It being her intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use for your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at command, _and that only_ (as specifically directed in the will), so that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should be handed over to you intact, I find a hard-and-fast duty in the matter of adhering exactly to the directions given. I have no doubt that my co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light. Under the circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a single and united duty towards you as the object of the testator's wishes, but towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying out of that duty. I take it, therefore, that it would not be consonant with the spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in accepting it that any of us should take a course pleasant to himself which would or might involve a stern opposition on the part of other of the co-trustees. We have each of us
to do the unpleasant part of this duty without fear or favour. You understand, of course, that the time which must elapse before you come into absolute possession of your estate is a limited one. As by the terms of the will we are to hand over our trust when you have reached the age of twenty-one, there are only seven years to expire. But till then, though I should gladly meet your wishes if I could, I must adhere to the duty which I have undertaken. At the expiration of that period you will be quite free to divest yourself of your estate without protest or comment of any man.

  Having now expressed as clearly as I can the limitations by which I am bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in any other way which is in my power or discretion I shall be most happy to see your wishes carried out so far as rests with me. Indeed, I shall undertake to use what influence I may possess with my co-trustees to induce them to take a similar view of your wishes. In my own thinking you are quite free to use your own property in your own way. But as, until you shall have attained your majority, you have only life-user in your mother's bequest, you are only at liberty to deal with the annual increment. On our part as trustees we have a first charge on that increment to be used for purposes of your maintenance, clothes, and education. As to what may remain over each half-year, you will be free to deal with it as you choose. On receiving from you a written authorization to your trustees, if you desire the whole sum or any part of it to be paid over to Miss Janet MacKelpie, I shall see that it is effected. Believe me, that our duty is to protect the corpus of the estate, and to this end we may not act on any instruction to imperil it. But there our warranty stops. We can deal during our trusteeship with the corpus only. Further, lest there should arise any error on your part, we can deal with any general instruction for only so long as it may remain unrevoked. You are, and must be, free to alter your instructions or authorizations at any time. Thus your latest document must be used for our guidance.

  As to the general principle involved in your wish I make no comment. You are at liberty to deal with your own how you will. I quite understand that your impulse is a generous one, and I fully believe that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my sister. Had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your intent, I am convinced that she would have approved. Therefore, my dear nephew, should you so wish, I shall be happy for her sake as well as your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential matter between you and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to that which you wish transferred to Miss Janet MacKelpie. On hearing from you I shall know how to act in the matter. With all good wishes,

  Believe me to be, Your affectionate uncle, ROGER MELTON.

  TO RUPERT SENT LEGER, ESQ.

  _Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Roger Melton_,

  _July_ 5, 1892.

  MY DEAR UNCLE,

  Thank you heartily for your kind letter. I quite understand, and now see that I should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing. I see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it. I enclose a letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till further direction to Miss Janet MacKelpie at this address whatever sum may remain over from the interest of my mother's bequest after deduction of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance, clothing, and education, together with a sum of one pound sterling per month, which was the amount my dear mother always gave me for my personal use--"pocket-money," she called it.

  With regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear Aunt Janet the sum which I would have given myself, had such been in my power, I thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt (to whom, of course, I shall not mention the matter unless you specially authorize me) and myself. But, indeed, I think it will be better not to offer it. Aunt Janet is very proud, and would not accept any benefit. With me, of course, it is different, for since I was a wee child she has been like another mother to me, and I love her very much. Since my mother died--and she, of course, was all-in-all to me--there has been no other. And in such a love as ours pride has no place. Thank you again, dear uncle, and God bless you.

  Your loving nephew, RUPERT SENT LEGER.