"Are you better, getting stronger, Lady Heyton?" she asked, gently.
Miriam shook her head listlessly, and gazed out of the window; then she
turned her eyes again slowly to Celia, and said, in a toneless voice, "Is it true, what the servants are saying, that the Marquess's elder
brother has been discovered, and that the Marquess, our Marquess, is no
longer the master here? Marie came and told me something about it; but
she was confused and rambled, and I could make very little of it."
"It is true," said Celia. "The elder brother is alive, is here in the
house. He had been living in seclusion for years; the Marquess
discovered a little while ago that his brother was alive; but the real
Marquess did not wish to displace his younger brother. He was living in
poverty, working for his living. I knew him at that time."
Miriam looked only slightly interested. "You knew him? That's strange."
"Yes; it is all very strange," Celia agreed. "It was Mr. Clendon--we
still call him that; it is so difficult to remember that he is the
Marquess--and I lived in the same building; we called it 'The Jail'; it
was so prison-like." Her voice grew dreamy, as she spoke. "He played the
violin in the orchestra of a theatre; I used to hear him practising; the
music floated up to my room; how long ago it seems! It was he who
persuaded Lord Sutcombe to engage me as librarian, here at the Hall."
"It sounds like a novel," commented Miriam, absently.
"Yes," assented Celia; "but it isn't any more wonderful and astounding
than the occurrences one reads of in the newspapers almost every day."
"And there is no doubt? I mean, it is all settled; he is the
Marquess?" said Miriam, still apathetically, as if no change, however
revolutionary, could affect her.
"Yes, it is all settled, or will be very soon," said Celia. "The lawyers
are coming down to-morrow; the evidence is quite complete." There was
silence for a minute or two; then Celia, with her heart beating fast and
heavily, said, in a still lower voice, "There is something else I must
tell you, Lady Heyton. Mr. Clendon, the real Marquess, has--has a son."
She stopped to let this sink in, and Miriam's brows knit slightly; then
she said, almost inaudibly, "You mean that--that Heyton, my husband, is not the heir, is not Lord
Heyton?"
"Yes," said Celia in a whisper. It seemed to her that Miriam drew a long
breath of relief; but she made no comment and Celia went on, with still
greater difficulty, "I must tell you who he is, Lady Heyton. I want to
prepare you for a shock, and I don't know how to do it. You--you know
him."