The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 179: what you’re looking at

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a THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. 173 principle, which prevented her from stooping to any underhand or immoral means to augment her hoards. Though handsome, yet if closely regarded, it would be seen that she had a certain decision of look indicating much of her real disposition, and which at times became sinister in its aspect. If ever a fashionable rake or a patrician libertine, seizing an opportunity, ventured to pat her cheek, her eyes would flame up and her countenance would express a savage fierceness; and if an im- proper overture were whispered in her ear, she would unhesitatingly reward the individual with the soundest box that his own ear had ever received. She was too selfish in her disposition to entertain any real affection fur her mistress— and too independent in character to simulate that which her heart did not feel. At the same time she was perfectly respectful in her conduct, as well as assiduous in her duties; and as the natural amiability of Lavinia prompted her to be kind and indulgent towards her dependants, Amy Sutton’s temper was never put to the test by a word or look on the part of her mistress. Thus it was not difficult for Amy to conceal from her Grace whatsoever was rugged, worldly-minded, or sinister in her constitution ; while her honesty, her unim- peachable character, and her regularity in per- forming her duties, rendered her more or less a favourite with her Grace. It must here be observed that the Duchess of Marchmont, though of such high rank, was not one of those fine ladies who cannot do a single thing for themselves, and who require every detail of the toilet-—morning, noon, evening, and night—to be performed by the hands of female attendants. Her Grace, on the contrary, dis- pensed as much as possible with the attentions of her maids on these points, and only invoked their aid for such services as she could not very well render unto herself. All this the Duke of course well knew: and he was therefore aware that when his wife retired for the night, she very speedily dismissed the attendant handmaid whose turn it was to be upon duty,—preferring to disapparel herself and arrange her hair with her own hands. The Duchess had sought her chamber about half- an-hour previous to the introduction of Lettice Rodney into the mansion. It was Awy Sutton’s turn to attend upon her Grace; and, as usual, she was dismissed for the night a few minutes after accompanying Lavinia to her chamber. March- mont had watched from the end of the corridor— himself remaining unseen—until Amy quitted hew Grace’s room and ascended to her own; and then was it that he stole down the private staircase to await the three raps at the door which were to signalize Lettice Rodney’s arrival. He was not kept long waiting, as the reader has seen. Now that we have given these requisite expla- nations, we resume the thread of.our narrative. Having introduced Lettice into Mr. Stanhope’s chamber, the Duke of Marchmont stole up-stairs to the floor above, and knocked at Amy Sutton’s door. The maid hastened to open it,—for she had not as yet begun to undress herself; and on hear- ing the summons, it immediately struck her that, one of her fellow-domestics must be taken ill. She was surprised at beholding the Duke,—sur- prised only, but not startled: for it was in her nature to take things very coolly. For a moment not altogether safe thus to be out. so late and in such a lonely road. Yes—assuredly it was only my imagination and yet it was strange that I should twice fancy I beheld that dark shape !” Lettice continued her way—but frequently glancing around, and ever and anon pausing to listen whether footsteps were in reality pursuing her. Nothing more however occurred to frighten her; and as she entered the grounds belonging to Oaklands, she felt ashamed of the apprehensions to which she had given way. The Duke had so accurately described the exact path which she was to take through the shrub- beries and the gardens, that she had no difficulty in following his instructions—especially as she was so well aided by the clear starlight. That starlight bathed the antique edifice in its argentine lustre, and made the tall chimneys and the pointed roofs stand out in bold relief against the blue sky. All was still, save the rustling of the evergreens as well as of her own dress, and the light tread of her footsteps as she bent her way towards the pri- vate door, which, as well as the other details of her route, had been accurately described by the Duke of Marchmont. On reaching that door, she gave three gentle taps; and it was immediately opened by the Duke himself. Shoe entered : he closed the door—and conducted her into a little room opening from a passage. Here a light was burning ; and he made her sit down and rest her- self for a few minutes. He drew the cork of a champagne-bottle; and the exhilarating influence of the wine cheered her spirits to an extent that she resolved to keep silent as to the circumstances which had affrighted her during her walk from the farm-house. She now, by the Duke’s bidding, took off her bonnet and cloak; and she appeared in one of the dresses which had come down in the box. “‘Tt is most fortunate,” said Marchmont, “that her Grace wore the exact counterpart of that dress this evening. Now take the veil from the bonnet and just throw it over your head, so as to shade your countenance and cover the hair.” These instructions were obeyed; and the Duke said, “ You must follow me on tiptoe. We shall not take the candle with us: but there will be light enough through the windows of the staircase and passages to enable you to see your way.” The. Duke conducted Lettice Rodney up the private staircase along a passage: then they threaded another corridor,—thus reaching the ex- tremity of the building, which was farthest from the one whence they had come. * “Here!” said the Duke: and gently tapping at a door, it was instantaneously opened by the Hon. Wilson Stanhope. Lettice passed in; and the Duke hastened _ The principal lady’semaid of the Duchess of Marchmont, was a young woman named Amy Sutton. She was tall and handsome—about four- and-twenty years of age—and of very excellent character. She was however of a cold disposition, which often merged into a morose sullenness when with her fellow-servants; though she had never any occasion to display her humours in the pre- sence of her mistress. She was selfish, worldly- minded, and calculating — exceedingly fond of money—but with a certain pride, rather than TS (C(O) Nn) (C 0)(0)(0) S (C(O)