Baronet's Bride

Agnes Fleming May

Description

Craving some literary catharsis? Curl up with The Baronet's Bride for a satisfyingly juicy read that will keep you guessing until the last page. Before settling down to married life, a well-born young man played the field ruthlessly, leaving heartbreak and devastation in his wake. Years later, a complicated revenge plot intended to punish his misdeeds is exacted upon his adult son. Will the young baronet and his beloved be able to overcome the powerful forces that are aligned against them?

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 mai 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776536795
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE BARONET'S BRIDE
OR A WOMAN'S VENGEANCE
* * *
MAY AGNES FLEMING
 
*
The Baronet's Bride Or a Woman's Vengeance From a 1910 edition Epub ISBN 978-1-77653-679-5 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77653-680-1 © 2013 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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All's Well Shadow Chapter I - The Baronet's Bride Chapter II - Achmet the Astrologer Chapter III - The Hut on the Heath Chapter IV - An Uninvited Guest Chapter V - Zenith's Malediction Chapter VI - Two Dying Bequests Chapter VII - After Ten Years Chapter VIII - A Mysterious Young Man Chapter IX - Miss Sybilla Silver Chapter X - A Shaft from Cupid's Quiver Chapter XI - "For Love Will Still Be Lord of All" Chapter XII - Miss Hunsden Says "No" Chapter XIII - Lying in Brithlow Wood Chapter XIV - The Captain's Last Night Chapter XV - The Dead Man's Secret Chapter XVI - The Baronet's Bride Chapter XVII - Mr. Parmalee's Little Mystery Chapter XVIII - In the Picture-Gallery Chapter XIX - Miss Silver Plays Her First Card Chapter XX - Mr. Parmalee Swears Vengeance Chapter XXI - A Storm Brewing Chapter XXII - At Night in the Beech Walk Chapter XXIII - My Lady's Secret Chapter XXIV - Miss Silver Breaks the News Chapter XXV - The Breaking of the Storm Chapter XXVI - "The Person in London" Chapter XXVII - "Have You Prayed To-night, Desdemona?" Chapter XXVIII - On the Stone Terrace Chapter XXIX - Branded Chapter XXX - Miss Silver on Oath Chapter XXXI - Found Guilty Chapter XXXII - Sybilla's Triumph Chapter XXXIII - Between Life and Death Chapter XXXIV - Mr. Parmalee Turns up Trumps Chapter XXXV - Highly Sensational Chapter XXXVI - "After Storm, the Sunshine"
All's Well
*
The clouds, which rise with thunder, slake Our thirsty souls with rain; The blow most dreaded falls to break From off our limbs a chain; And wrongs of man to man but make The love of God more plain. As through the shadowy lens of even The eye looks farthest into heaven On gleams of star and depths of blue The glaring sunshine never knew!
JOHN G. WHITTIER.
Shadow
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It falls before, it follows behind, Darkest still when the day is bright; No light without the shadow we find, And never shadow without the light.
From our shadow we cannot flee away; It walks when we walk, it runs when we run; But it tells which way to look for the sun; We may turn our backs on it any day.
Ever mingle the sight and shade That make this human world so dear; Sorrow of joy is ever made, And what were a hope without a fear?
A morning shadow o'er youth is cast, Warning from pleasure's dazzling snare; A shadow lengthening across the past, Fixes our fondest memories there.
One shadow there is, so dark, so drear, So broad we see not the brightness round it; Yet 'tis but the dark side of the sphere Moving into the light unbounded.
ISA CRAIG-KNOX.
Chapter I - The Baronet's Bride
*
"And there is danger of death—for mother and child?"
"Well, no, Sir Jasper—no, sir; no certain danger, you know; but inthese protracted cases it can do no harm, Sir Jasper, for the clergymanto be here. He may not be needed but your good lady is very weak, I amsorry to say, Sir Jasper Kingsland."
"I will send for the clergyman," Sir Jasper Kingsland said. "Do yourbest, Doctor Godroy, and for God's sake let me know the worst or bestas soon as may be. This suspense is horrible."
Doctor Parker Godroy looked sympathetically at him through hisgold-bowed spectacles.
"I will do my best, Sir Jasper," he said, gravely. "The result is inthe hands of the Great Dispenser of life and death. Send for theclergyman, and wait and hope."
He quitted the library as he spoke. Sir Jasper Kingsland seized thebell and rang a shrill peal.
"Ride to the village—ride for your life!" he said, imperatively, tothe servant who answered, "and fetch the Reverend Cyrus Green here atonce."
The man bowed and departed, and Sir Jasper Kingsland, Baronet, ofKingsland Court, was alone—alone in the gloomy grandeur of the vastlibrary; alone with his thoughts and the wailing midnight storm.
A little toy time-piece of buhl on the stone mantel chimed musicallyits story of the hour, and Sir Jasper Kingsland lifted his gloomy eyesfor a moment at the sound. A tall, spare middle-aged man, handsomeonce—handsome still, some people said—with iron-gray hair and aproud, patrician face.
"Twelve," his dry lips whispered to themselves—"midnight, and forthree hours I have endured this maddening agony of suspense! Anotherday is given to the world, and before its close all I love best may becold and stark in death! Oh, my God! have mercy, and spare her!"
He lifted his clasped hands in passionate appeal. There was a pictureopposite—a gem of Raphael's—the Man of Sorrows fainting under theweight of the cross, and the fire's shine playing upon it seemed tolight the pallid features with a derisive smile.
"The mercy you showed to others, the same shall be shown to you. Tigerheart, you were merciless in the days gone by. Let your black, badheart break, as you have broken others!"
No voice had sounded, yet he was answered. Conscience had spoken intrumpet-tones, and with a hollow groan the baronet turned away andbegan pacing up and down.
It was a large and spacious apartment, this library of Kingsland Court,dimly lighted now by the flickering wood-fire and the mellow glow of abranch of wax-lights. Huge book-cases filled to overflowing lined thefour walls, and pictures precious as their weight in rubies lookedduskily down from their heavy frames. Busts and bronzes stood onbrackets and surmounted doors; a thick, rich carpet of moss-green,sprinkled with oak leaves and acorns, muffled the tread; voluminousdraperies of dark green shrouded the tall, narrow windows. The massivechairs and tables, fifty years old at least, were spindle-legged andrich in carving, upholstered in green velvet and quaintly embroidered,by hands moldered to dust long ago. Everything was old and grand, andfull of storied interest. And there, on the wall, was the crest of thehouse—the uplifted hand grasping a dagger—and the motto, in oldNorman French, "Strike once, and strike well."
It is a very fine thing to be a baronet—a Kingsland of Kingsland, withfifteen thousand a year, and the finest old house in the county; but ifDeath will stalk grimly over your threshold and snatch away the lifeyou love more than your own, then even that glory is not omniscient.For this wintery midnight, while Sir Jasper Kingsland walks moodily upand down—up and down—Lady Kingsland, in the chamber above, lies illunto death.
An hour passes—the clock in the turret and the buhl toy on the stonemantel toll solemnly one. The embers drop monotonously through thegrate—a dog bays deeply somewhere in the quadrangle below—the wailingwind of coming morning sighs lamentingly through the tossingcopper-beeches, and the roar of the surf afar off comes ever and anonlike distant thunder. The house is silent as the tomb—so horriblysilent that the cold drops start out on the face of the tortured man.Who knows? Death has been on the threshold of that upper chamber allnight, waiting for his prey. This awful hush may be the paean thatproclaims that he is master!
A tap at the door. The baronet paused in his stride and turned hisbloodshot eyes that way. His very voice was hollow and unnatural as hesaid:
"Come in."
A servant entered—the same who had gone his errand.
"The Reverend Cyrus Green is here, sir. Shall I show him up?"
"Yes—no—I cannot see him. Show him into the drawing-room until he isneeded."
"He will not be needed," said a voice at his elbow, and Doctor ParkerGodroy came briskly forward. "My dear Sir Jasper, allow me tocongratulate you! All is well, thank Heaven, and—it is a son!"
Sir Jasper Kingsland sunk into a seat, thrilling from head to foot,turning sick and faint in the sudden revulsion from despair to hope.
"Saved?" he said, in a gasping whisper. " Both ?"
"Both, my dear Sir Jasper!" the doctor responded, cordially. "Yourgood lady is very much prostrated—exhausted—but that was to be lookedfor, you know; and the baby—ah! the finest boy I have had the pleasureof presenting to an admiring world within ten years. Come and seethem!"
"May I?" the baronet cried, starting to his feet.
"Certainly, my dear Sir Jasper—most certainly. There is nothing inthe world to hinder—only be a little cautious, you know. Our goodlady must be kept composed and quiet, and left to sleep; and you willjust take one peep and go. We won't need the Reverend Cyrus."
He led the way from the library, rubbing his hands as your brisk littlephysicians do, up a grand stair-way where you might have driven a coachand four, and into a lofty and most magnificently furnished bed-chamber.
"Quiet, now—quiet," the doctor whispered, warningly. "Excite her, andI won't be answerable for the result."
Sir Jasper Kingsland replied with a rapid gesture, and walked forwardto the bed. His own face was perfectly colorless, and his lips weretwitching with intense suppressed feeling. He bent above the stillform.
"Olivia," he said, "my darling, my darling!"
The heavy eyelids fluttered and lifted, and a pair of haggard, darkeyes gazed up at him. A wan smile parted those pallid lips.
"Dear Jasper! I knew you would come. Have you seen the baby? It is aboy."
"My own, I have thought only of you. My poor pale wife, how awfullydeath-like you look!"
"But I am not going to die—Doctor Godroy says so," smiling gently."And now you must go, for I cannot talk