The mere utterance of the loved familiar name seemed to quiet her. Her face softened and grew like itself again.
“You need have no fear of Miss Fairlie,” I continued, “She knows so much about it already, that you will have no difficulty in telling her all. You mention no names in the letter; but Miss Fairlie knows that the person you write of is Sir Percival Glyde – ”
At the mention of Sir Percival’s name, she started to her feet, and a look of terrible hatred and fear came over the woman’s face. She screamed out, and my heart leaped in terror.
“What harm has he done you?” I asked.
“Sir Percival Glyde is the wicked man who shut me up in the Asylum!” she cried.
“I’m coming! I’m coming!” cried the voice from behind the clump of trees. In a moment more an elderly woman appeared.
“Who are you?” she cried. “How dare you frighten a poor helpless woman like that?”
She was at Anne Catherick’s side, and had put one arm around her, before I could answer. “What is it, my dear?” she said. “What has he done to you?”
“Nothing,” the poor creature answered. “Nothing. I’m only frightened.”
“Try to forgive me,” I said, when Anne Catherick took her friend’s arm to go away. “I will try,” she answered. “But you know too much – I’m afraid you’ll always frighten me now.”
“Good-night, sir,” said an old woman.
They moved away a few steps. I thought they had left me, but Anne suddenly stopped, and separated herself from her friend.
“Wait a little,” she said. “I must say good-bye.”
She returned to the grave, rested both hands tenderly on the marble cross, and kissed it.
“I’m better now,” she sighed, looking up at me quietly. “I forgive you.”
She joined her companion again, and they left the burial-ground.[45]
Half an hour later I was back at the house, and was informing Miss Halcombe of all that had happened during my meeting with Anne Catherick. She listened to me from beginning to end with a steady, silent attention.
“I’m so worried about the future,” she said. “I don’t have a very good feeling about Laura’s marriage to Sir Percival. What shall we do now?”
“I have a suggestion,” I said. “We have to ask Anne Catherick a lot more questions, but I’m sure she will talk more openly to a woman than a man. If Miss Fairlie – ”
“No,” interposed Miss Halcombe, in her most decided manner.
“Let me suggest, then,” I continued, “that you should see Anne Catherick yourself. Tomorrow, why don’t you come with me to the farm where she’s staying? You can meet her there and talk to her.”
“I will go anywhere and do anything to serve Laura’s interests. What did you say the place was called?”
“You must know it well. It is called Todd’s Corner.”
“Certainly. Todd’s Corner is one of Mr. Fairlie’s farms. Our dairymaid here is the farmer’s second daughter. She goes backwards and forwards constantly between this house and her father’s farm, and she may have heard or seen something which it may be useful to us to know.”
“Very well,” agreed Marian. “And in the meantime, there’s something else we have to do. We need to find out why Sir Percival Glyde shut Anne Catherick up in the Asylum. The Asylum you have mentioned is a well-known private one and it’s very expensive. Why is Sir Percival Glyde paying all that money to keep Anne there? We need to know the answer to that question before Sir Percival can marry my sister. Laura’s happiness means everything to me.
I’ll write to our family lawyer, Mr Gilmore, and tell him what’s happened. He will advise me as to what to do.”
“There is not the shadow of a doubt. The only mystery that remains is the mystery of his motive”.
“I see where the doubt lies, Mr. Hartright. Sir Percival Glyde shall not be long in this house without satisfying Mr. Gilmore, and satisfying me.”
We parted for the night.
This was my last day at Limmeridge House, and it was necessary, as soon as the post came in, to follow Miss Halcombe’s advice, and to ask Mr. Fairlie’s permission to shorten my engagement by a month, in consideration of a necessity for my return to London.
After breakfast the next morning, when the post had come, I sent a polite note to Mr. Fairlie. I told him I had to return to London on urgent business and asked his permission to leave. I knew that my time at Limmeridge House was nearly at an end.
I sat down at once to write the letter, expressing myself in it as civilly, as clearly, and as briefly as possible. An hour later I received Mr. Fairlie’s reply.
“Dear Mr Hartright,
I’m sorry but I’m not feeling well enough to see you at the moment.
Please excuse me. My nerves are so very delicate.
I cannot possibly imagine what business you have in London which is more important than your business at Limmeridge House. I am really very disappointed in you. However as I do not wish to be upset by any more such requests from you, I will allow you to leave. My health is of the greatest importance. Therefore you may go.”
I folded the letter up, and put it away with my other papers. I didn’t feel any anger inwards Mr Fairlie, I was only glad to leave. I accepted it now as a written release from my engagement. Then I went downstairs to find Marian and tell her that I was ready to walk to the farmhouse with her to meet Anne Catherick.
“Has Mr. Fairlie given you a satisfactory answer?” Marian asked as we left the house.
“He has allowed me to go, Miss Halcombe.”
We had agreed to say nothing to Laura about my meeting with Anne in the churchyard, and what Anne had said about Sir Percival Glyde. It would only worry Laura and upset her.
On our way to Todd’s Corner we arranged that Marian would enter alone, and I would wait outside. I thought she would be a long time talking to Anne Catherick, but she went into the farmhouse and came out again in less than five minutes.
“Does Anne Catherick refuse to see you?” I asked in astonishment.
“Anne Catherick is gone,” replied Miss Halcombe.
“Gone?”
“Gone with Mrs. Clements,[46] her elderly companion. They both left the farm at eight o’clock this morning.”
I could say nothing – I could only feel that our last chance of discovery had gone with them.
“The dairymaid just told me she left for the station at eight o’clock this morning.”
“Let’s ask the dairymaid some more questions,” I said.
We went back inside. Clearly the dairymaid had no idea why Anne Catherick had left so suddenly. She had been planning to stay at the farm for several more days, but the evening before she had suddenly become ill and fainted.
“Do you think anything happened to frighten her?” I asked.
“I don’t think so,” replied the girl. “I was only trying to cheer her up by telling her the local news. She looked so pale and sad sometimes that I felt sorry for her.
“And you told her the news at Limmeridge House?”
“I was telling her about Miss Fairlie and Limmeridge House as I thought she would be interested.”
“Did you tell her that visitors were expected at the house on Monday?” I said.
“Yes,