The Haunted Hotel / Отель с привидениями. Уилки Коллинз
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by one the dull weeks succeeded each other in the life of Agnes. She was seeing her friends, reading and drawing. But her wound was too deep to forget. And an old friend and school companion who saw her during a brief visit to London, was inexpressibly distressed by the change that she detected in Agnes. This lady was Mrs. Westwick, the wife of that brother of Lord Montbarry, who was described in the ‘Peerage’ as presumptive heir to the title. Mr. Westwick was then in America. Mrs. Westwick invited Agnes to her home in Ireland.
‘Come and stay with me while my husband is away. My three little girls will make you their playfellow, and the only stranger you will meet is the governess. Pack up your things, and I will call for you[17] tomorrow on my way to the train.’
Agnes thankfully accepted the invitation. For three happy months she lived under the roof of her friend. The girls cried at her departure; the youngest of them wanted to go back with Agnes to London. Half in jest, she said to her old friend,
‘If your governess leaves you, keep the place open for me.’
Mrs. Westwick laughed. The children took it seriously, and promised to let Agnes know.
When Miss Lockwood returned to London, the old nurse told her,
‘Mrs. Ferrari, my dear, came here, in a dreadful state of mind. She was inquiring when you would be back. Her husband has left Lord Montbarry, without a word of warning – and nobody knows what has become of him.’
Agnes felt alarmed as well as surprised. She at once sent a message to Mrs. Ferrari, to say that she had returned.
In an hour more the courier’s wife appeared, in a state of agitation. After hearing from her husband from Paris, Rome, and Venice, Emily had twice written to him afterwards – and had received no reply. She went to the office in Golden Square. The post of the morning brought a letter to the secretary from a courier in Venice. It contained startling news of Ferrari.
The writer stated that he had recently arrived in Venice. Ferrari was with Lord and Lady Montbarry, at one of the old Venetian palaces. He was a friend of Ferrari, so he went to pay him a visit. He rang at the door that opened on the canal. No answer. He went round to a side entrance. Here, he found a pale woman with magnificent dark eyes, who was Lady Montbarry herself.
She asked, in Italian, what he wanted. He answered that he wanted to see the courier Ferrari, if it was quite convenient. She at once informed him that Ferrari had left the palace, without any reason. He did not leave an address at which his monthly salary could be paid. Amazed at this reply, the courier inquired if any person had offended Ferrari, or quarrelled with him. The lady answered,
‘To my knowledge, certainly not. I am Lady Montbarry. We are as much astonished as you are at his extraordinary disappearance. If you hear of him, pray let us know.’
The courier at once entered on the necessary investigations – without the slightest result. Nobody saw him. Nobody knew anything. They said that her ladyship’s English maid had left her, before the disappearance of Ferrari, to return to her relatives. His lordship was ill. He lived in the strictest retirement. The courier discovered a stupid old woman who did the housework at the palace. She arrived in the morning and went away at night. She had never seen the lost courier – she had never even seen Lord Montbarry, who was in his room. Her ladyship, ‘a most gracious and adorable mistress,’ was in constant attendance on her noble husband. There was no other servant then in the house but herself.
An Italian doctor once visited his lordship. He also had never seen Ferrari. The doctor described Lord Montbarry’s malady as bronchitis. The police were looking for the lost man – and that was the only hope, to Ferrari’s wife.
‘What do you think of it, Miss?’ the poor woman asked eagerly. ‘What will you advise me to do?’
Agnes did not know what to say. She was not thinking of the lost Ferrari; her mind was in Venice, by the sick man’s bedside.
‘I hardly know what to say,’ she answered.
‘Do you think it would help you, Miss, if you read my husband’s letters to me? There are only three of them.’
Agnes compassionately read the letters. The first letter was from Paris.
‘We leave Paris tomorrow. I don’t much like my lord. He is proud and cold, and, between ourselves, stingy in money matters. We were discussing some centimes in the hotel bill; and twice already. Some sharp remarks passed between the newly-married couple, her ladyship like to purchase pretty tempting things at the shops in Paris. “I can’t afford it!” For my part, I like her. She has the nice, easy manners.’
The second letter was dated from Rome.
‘My lord is incurably restless. I suspect he is uneasy in his mind. He is constantly reading old letters, when her ladyship is not present. We stopped in Genoa, but he hurried us on. The same thing in Florence. My lady’s brother met us in Rome. There was a quarrel already (the lady’s maid tells me) between my lord and the Baron. The latter wanted to borrow money of the former. His lordship refused in language which offended Baron Rivar. My lady pacified them.’
The third, and last letter, was from Venice.
‘More of my lord’s economy! We hired a damp, mouldy, rambling old palace. My lord says the quiet of Venice is good for his nerves. But a foreign architect is going to turn the palace into an hotel. The Baron is still with us, and there are more disagreements about money matters. I don’t like the Baron – and I don’t find my lady agreeable. She was much nicer before the Baron joined us. I receive my salary regularly at the end of each month – not a franc extra, though I do many things which are not part of a courier’s work. And the Baron was trying to borrow money of me! He is an inveterate gambler. And I saw other things besides, which don’t increase my respect for my lady and the Baron. The maid wants to leave. She is a respectable British female. It is a dull life here. When my lord goes out, he goes alone, and generally towards nightfall. Indoors, he shuts himself up in his own room with his books, and sees as little of his wife and the Baron as possible. Does he suspect anything? Who knows. However, the pay is good – and I’m not going to leave, like my lady’s maid.’
Agnes handed back the letters with feelings of shame and distress.
‘The one thing I can suggest,’ she said, ‘to consult a person of greater experience than ours. I will write and ask my lawyer to come and advise us tomorrow.’
Emily eagerly and gratefully accepted the suggestion. An hour was arranged for the meeting on the next day; and the courier’s wife left.
Weary and heartsick, Agnes lay down on the sofa, to rest and compose herself. The careful nurse brought a cup of tea. They were talking quietly, when they heard a loud knock at the house door. Hurried footsteps ascended the stairs. The door of the sitting-room was thrown open violently; the courier’s wife rushed in like a mad woman.
‘He’s dead! They’ve murdered him!’
Those wild words were all she could say. She dropped on her knees at the foot of the sofa and fell back in a swoon.
The nurse took the necessary measures to restore the fainting woman.
‘What’s this?’ she exclaimed. ‘Here’s a letter in her hand. See what it is, Miss.’
The open envelope was addressed to ‘Mrs. Ferrari.’ The post-mark was ‘Venice.’ On the note-paper, one line only was written. It contained these words:
‘To console you for the loss of your husband’
Agnes opened the enclosure next.
It was a Bank of England note for a thousand pounds.
Chapter VI
The next day, the friend and legal adviser of Agnes Lockwood, Mr. Troy, called on her by appointment in the evening. Mrs. Ferrari told the lawyer that was known about Ferrari’s disappearance. Mr. Troy read (first) the three letters addressed by Ferrari to his wife; (secondly) the letter written by Ferrari’s courier-friend, describing his visit to the palace and his interview with Lady Montbarry; and
I will call for you – я заеду за тобой