A few moments, and Lady Jane was seated in Mrs. West’s house close by, listening to that lady’s explanation. They had been abroad between six and seven years, she said; had educated their four daughters well—of whom she seemed not a little fond and proud, and regretted their absence from home that day, or she would have shown them to Lady Jane—and had now come back for good to England and Gloucester Terrace. Not to the same house: that was occupied: but to one within five or six doors of it.
Jane spoke of Clarice. And Mrs. West seemed thunderstruck, really thunderstruck, to hear that no tidings had been gained of her.
“It is like a romance,” she cried. “But for your telling me yourself, Lady Jane, I should scarcely have believed it. It seems so impossible in these days that any lady should be lost. We read advertisements in the Times of gentlemen missing; now and then of a lady; but I think—at least I have always supposed—that the ladies at least come to light again. I and Mr. West have often talked of this affair; he saw you, Lady Jane, as perhaps you may remember, the day you called at our house when I was at Ramsgate; and we thought—we concluded —but perhaps you would not like me to repeat it to you?” broke off Mrs. West.
“Indeed I should,” replied Jane, eagerly, not that she had any idea what it was Mrs. West hesitated to repeat. “The least word, the least surmise or conjecture, bearing upon my sister is of interest for me.”
“Well, then, the conclusion we came to was, that Miss Beauchamp’s marriage must have been an inferior one. That she had married in accordance with her temporary position, and did not like to avow it to her family, especially after they were ennobled. I am sure you will forgive my speaking thus freely, Lady Jane.”
Jane did not altogether understand. The tone of the words surprised her ear.
“But still we never supposed but that she would avow it in time,” proceeded Mrs. West. “However inferior or unsuitable her marriage might have been, she would surely not keep it secret so long as this———"
“What marriage?” interrupted Jane. “Clarice was not married.”
“Oh yes, she was.”
“Do you know that she was?” gasped Jane. "How do you know it?”
Mrs. West paused in surprise. She was asking herself how it was that Lady Jane did not know it; it was so long ago that she forgot partially, but at length came to the unwelcome conclusion that she had neglected to make her acquainted with it. Not with the marriage itself: of that Mrs. West knew positively nothing: but of the grounds they had for assuming it to have taken place.
“Tell me about it now,” implored Jane.
“It was through an old servant,” said Mrs. West. “A young woman named Mary Grove, who had lived with me as parlour-maid, and left just about the time that Miss Beauchamp did. Mary had fallen into bad health—indeed she was never strong, and I used to think the work too much for her—and she went home to be nursed. They were Suffolk people. She took another place in London when she got better; and upon calling here one day to see us sometime afterwards, she told me that she had met Miss Beauchamp, and saw from her appearance that she was married.”
“When did she meet her?—and where?” eagerly inquired Lady Jane.
“She had met her sometime in the course of the winter subsequent to Miss Beauchamp’s quitting us, at its turn, I think; I know the girl said it was a frosty day. And it was somewhere in this”—Mrs. West hesitated and spoke very slowly—“in this neighbourhood, I think, though I cannot remember precisely where. Mary accosted Miss Beauchamp, saying something to the effect that she perceived she was married; and Miss Beauchamp replied, yes she was, she had married upon leaving Mrs. West’s. The girl said she seemed in great spirits, and looked remarkably well.”
“When was it that you heard this?” asked Jane.
“I am not sure of the precise time, Lady Jane. It was subsequent to the interview I had with you, was it not?”
“I wish you had told me of it!”
“Indeed I am very sorry that I did not. I suppose I thought it not worth troubling you with; it was so very little news, you see; and nothing certain, no details. And in truth, Lady Jane, I supposed that perhaps Miss Beauchamp did not care you should know of her marriage just at first, but would take her own time for revealing it. One thing I may mention: that this information of the girl’s had the effect of removing from my mind any fear on the subject of Miss Beauchamp—I ought to say of Lady Clarice.”
“I wonder whether I could see that girl?”
Mrs. West shook her head. “She is dead, poor thing. She grew ill again and died just before we went on the continent.”
Lady Jane was turning matters over in her mind. That Clarice had married, there was now no room for a shadow of doubt. The question remained, to whom?
“If she quitted your house to be married,”