George W. M. Reynolds - The Mysteries of London

The cab now stopped at Mr. Greenwood's residence.

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"You have doubtless called, my dear Cecilia," said Mr. Greenwood, as he handed the fair visitant to a seat in his elegant drawing-room—"you have doubtless called to remonstrate with me respecting my note of this evening."

"No," answered Cecilia coldly: "I come on a more momentous affair than that: Sir Rupert knows all!"

"Ah!" cried Greenwood; "is it possible that the villain Chichester—"

"Has betrayed us," added the lady. "Moreover, Sir Rupert and his inseparable friend have been watching and dogging all our movements for months past."

"This is awkward—very awkward," observed Greenwood. "However, Sir Rupert will not dare show his teeth against me, nor venture to give publicity to the affair."

"Because you hold his bill, with a forged acceptance, for one thousand pounds," said Lady Cecilia.

"Ah! he has told you that much—has he?" exclaimed Greenwood. "Well—you perceive, my dearest Cecilia, that he is completely in my power."

"The most remarkable part of the entire business," observed the lady, "is that I am actually deputed by Sir Rupert to negotiate the amicable settlement of the affair with you."

"Indeed!" cried Greenwood. "He could not have chosen a more charming plenipotentiary."

"His proposal is this:—you are to give up the acceptance, and he will sign any paper you choose to guarantee you against legal proceedings on his part."

"I do not see, fair ambassadress," said Greenwood, who did not treat the business with so much serious attention as Lady Cecilia had anticipated—"I do not see that I should benefit myself by such an arrangement. So long as the bill remains in my possession, it is impossible for Sir Rupert Harborough to commence civil proceedings against me, because he knows full well that were he to have process issued against me, I should that moment hand him over to the officers of justice."

"Then, for my sake, Mr. Greenwood," said Lady Cecilia, cruelly hurt by this cold calculation on the part of a man the slave of whose passions she had so completely been—"for my sake, compromise this affair amicably."

"A thousand pounds is a large sum to fling into the street, my dear Cecilia," observed Greenwood.

"And suppose that by some accident my husband should raise that amount and pay the bill—"

"It never was my intention to allow him to pay all," interrupted Greenwood. "I imagined that by threatening him, I should obtain five or six hundred on account, and I should still hold the bill for the balance. That balance I would not receive, were he to offer it, because by retaining the bill, I keep him in my power."

"Then, once again, for my sake— for my sake ," repeated Lady Cecilia, "consent to the proposal made to you this evening—settle the affair in an amicable manner."

"To oblige you, my dear Cecilia, I will assent to Sir Rupert Harborough's proposal. Let him draw up and sign a document in which he acknowledges that he has discovered the—the—"

"Criminal conversation between his wife and Mr. George Greenwood," said Cecilia: "we will not mince words in a negotiation of this kind," she added ironically.

"Precisely," exclaimed Greenwood, coolly; "and that he has received full satisfaction for the same. In this manner the business can be disposed of to the satisfaction of all parties."

"To-morrow morning at eleven o'clock I will call with that paper," said Lady Cecilia.

"And I will give you up the forged bill," returned the Member of Parliament. "And now, my dear Cecilia, allow me to make an observation relative to the answer I sent you this evening to your little note. The truth is, that representing as I do an enlightened and independent constituency—"

"Pardon me," said Lady Cecilia, rising: "we will not talk of any other business until this most painful affair be settled."

The fair patrician lady then took her leave, and returned to her husband, who awaited Greenwood's decision in a state of the most painful suspense.

Cecilia communicated to him the particulars of the interview; and, ere he retired to rest, the baronet drew up the document which was to save himself by the compromise of his honour.

"So far, so good," said Sir Rupert, as he handed the paper to his wife. "I have now a proposal to make to you, Cecilia—and I have little doubt that you will accept it."

"Proceed," said Cecilia.

"After the explanation which has taken place between us this evening, it is impossible that we can ever entertain much respect for each other again. You know me to be a forger—I know you to be unfaithful to my bed. If it suits you, we will agree to live together beneath the same roof as hitherto—to have our separate apartments—to maintain an appearance of enjoying domestic tranquillity—and each to follow his own pursuits without leave or remonstrance on the part of the other. You will never interfere with me—I will never interfere with you. If you hear that I have a mistress, you will take no notice of it: if I know that you have a lover, I shall be equally blind and dumb. Does this please you?"

"Perfectly," answered Lady Cecilia. "Shall we commit this compact to writing?"

"Oh! with much pleasure," returned Sir Rupert. "I will draw up two agreements, embodying the conditions of our compact, immediately. You can retain one; and I will keep the other."

The baronet set to work, and, in a most business-like manner, wrote out the compact. He then read it to Lady Cecilia, who signified her approval of its terms. A counterpart was written; and the husband and wife signed the papers that released them from all the moral obligations of their marriage-vows!

They then retired to their separate apartments, better pleased with each other, perhaps, than they had been for a long—long time.

The reader need scarcely be informed that Lady Cecilia said nothing to her husband relative to the mysterious letter containing the Bank note for a thousand pounds.

On the following morning Lady Cecilia repaired to the abode of Mr. Greenwood. When she arrived in Spring Gardens, she found the street completely blocked up with a train of charity children—boys and girls, marshalled by the parish beadle, and accompanied by the schoolmaster and schoolmistress. The girls were attired in their light blue dresses, plain straw bonnets, white collars, and pepper-and-salt coloured cloaks; and their arms, red with the cold, were only half covered with their coarse mittens. The boys wore their muffin caps, short coats, and knee-breeches; and each was embellished with a large tin plate, or species of medal, affixed like a badge of honour, to the breast. Their meagre countenances, their thin arms, and lanky legs, did not speak much in favour of the quantity of food which constituted their diurnal meals.

Lady Cecilia was conducted to the drawing-room by the Italian valet, who informed her that Mr. Greenwood would wait upon her the moment he had dismissed the charity children.

Lafleur, in the mean time threw open the door of the mansion, and admitted the procession into the spacious hall, after having kept the poor creatures shivering in the cold for nearly a quarter of an hour. The beadle took his station upon the steps, with awful dignity, and watched the boys and girls as they defiled past him in military order into the hall. It was very evident from the timid glances which the little scholars cast towards the countenance of this functionary, that they believed him to be one of the most important personages on the face of the earth; and perhaps they were even perplexed to decide, in their own minds, whether the parish beadle whom they saw before them, or Mr. Greenwood, M. P., whom they were about to see, was the greater man of the two.