VI. CLARA MARKHAM.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 358, 10 April 1889, Page 6

VI. CLARA MARKHAM.

Everybody was remarking how ill Mrs Markham looked — that is to say, everybody who lived in the neighbourhood and occasionally saw the lady when she was assisted "" into the landau and taken for a drive. On these occasions Mrs Markham was always accompanied by herhusband, Dr. Markhani, and her sister, Miss Wesley. The attention of the doctor to his invalid wife was remarked upon approvingly by the ladies who stood at their windows and saw the care with which he arranged the cushions ; and he and Miss Wesley seemed to vie with each other as to who could show the poor sufferer the greatest consideration. A handsome girl was Miss Wesley — tall, graceful, dark-eyed and rosy-cheeked — a striking contrast to her married sister, whose figure was bent, whose face • was haggard and sallow and full of deep lines caused by suffering and ill-health. When the Boclor brought his wife home fie was only a struggling practitioner, how struggling the tradespeople in the district knew better than anyone, for they had the greatest difficulty in getting their money, and then had to take something on account as often as not. But after the new Mrs Markham came home things were different : the doctor's practice didn't seem to improve, but his bills were punctually paid, and it soon became known that he had married money. Of Mrs Markham before her marriage her neighboui's, always curious in a suburban district, had been able to ascertain very little. She was a delicate, fragile little woman, and looked ill when she first came among them, and that rather interested them, because it seemed curious for a handsome, stalwart young fellow like Markham to marry an invalid wife. But it soon leaked out that it had been a 'money match ' on the doctor's side. In some mysterious way the gossips got hold of the fact that the Wesleys were distant relations of Dr. Markham, that they lived in the country with their aunt, a very wealthy old lady, and that it was at her house that Dr. Markham had been in the haoit of spending the few holidays that he was able to take. It also transpired that the aunt had died some twelve months previously, and had left the whole of her fortune to the elder niece, the younger one having offended her in some way not ascertained by the anxious inquirers. The whole story of the past was vague and uncertain, and it got mixed up eventually in passing from house to houss, from Mrs Jones to Mrs Brown, from the butcher to the baker, from the jobbing gardener who kept the garden in order to the housemaid at No. 13, to whom he was paying his addresses. But there was no doubt about the present" situation, which was that Dr. Markham had married the heiress and brought j her up to London to be the mistress of his establishment— and that, being an invalid, her younger sister accompanied her, and was her constant companion, and almost her nurse. The doctor's practice, in spite of the improved financial position, did not apparently increase. There was a prejudice against him in the neighbourhood. It was understood that he was not exactly a nice man. He didn't know what was said about him, but attributed his failure to the fact of his being a single man. In suburban neighbourhoods especially, there is a prejudice against young bachelor doctors. It was when he was making up Ms mind that he should never have a chance unless he married, that he received intelligence of the death of the Misses Wesley's aunt. He went down to the funeral and heard of the will. Then he offered his assistance to the young 1 ladies, who were without a male adviser, and finally he became engaged to the heiress, and eventually bi ought her back as his wife, and her youngest sister accompanied her and took up her residence under the doctor's root. Among the most frequent visitors wa9 a Mr Tom Wesley, the young ladies' brother. This gentleman ' was something in the city.' What, it was hard to define, but it was mentioned that he floated public companies, and judging by hia appearance, they had not floated successfully. The gentleman at No. 24, who was himself a financial agent, went so far as to declare that Mr Wesley bore a very bad reputation in the city, and was no better than an adventurer, and an unlucky one as well. Tom Wesley had ceased to be a visitor at the aunt's house a long time before that lady's death ; but, directly Clara married, he became a regular visitor at her husband's and found in the doctor a willing listener to his grand schemes for acquiring wealth in the city by bold speculation. There was, however, one little drawback to the^ launching of these schemes- The doctor was unable to put any money into them because his wife had complete control of her fortune ; and although she was generous enough so far as legitimate expenses were concerned, she rofused to hand over the large sums which her husband and her brother wanted. These facts were not known to the neighbours ; they were not the kind of gossip servants could easily get hold of, but gossip of another kind soon began to circulate through the usual channels. The cook who lived next door to the Markham'g told the housemaid opposite, who told her mistress, who told all her female acquaintances, who told all their husbands, that poor Mrs Markham was far from happy ; that the doctor was paying so much attention to her sister, that the poor lady would have been blind not to notice it, and that the servants in the house said it was 'disgraceful.' •They do say' — this was imparted by the lady at 14 to the lady at 23 in a confidential conversation that they had one evening while taking tea together, ' that he was really in love with the younger one all along, but married the elder sifter because of the money.' It was some time after this interesting conversation that the neighbours began to notice how very much worse Mrs Markham looked than she had ever done before. ■ In the language of the sympathising female onlookers she was ' a perfect wreck.' And when the doctor gave *her his arm and helped her so tenderly into the carriage the ladies would exclaim, • The hypocrite !' and when her sister smoothed out the cushions they would say, 'The deceitful hussy!' from which it was evident that the good ladies thoroughly believed all they had heard, and were not inclined give the incriminated couple the benefit bf the doubt. Whether gossip was on the right track or not, 1 it* was certain that the doctor's .wife was rapidly becoming worse.* Thb poor lady knew it herself, and her condition alarmed her. There was no

specific disease from which she suffered, and yet she grew gradually weaker. Her husband ridiculed the idea of calling in a doctor. Ib was the old complaint— what she wanted was quiet and care. And she had both. The only thing that was allowed to upset her was hei husband's earnestly expressed wish that she should make a will. He pointed out to her that ib was advisable that she should provide for her sister, and otherwise dispose of tho property, as according to the terms of her aunt's will the property at her decease would pass to another branch of the family unless she (Clara) should otherwise will it atray. It was probable that this clause was inserted as there was a doubt whether Clara would ever marry. If she did she had tho power to pass the inheritance on to the children ; if she didn't, it would naturally revert to the old lady's other relatives. But it could not pass to anyone bub them in the absence ot any legal direction by Clara to that effect. Mrs Markham, lika many invalids, had a horror of discussing her own death, and she didn't relish the idea of making a will at all. But her husband argued with her so persistently that at last, for the sake of peace and quietness, she consented to do so. A proper legal document was prepai'ed, and the property was left to Dr. Markham and the sister with a small legacy to Tom — and the important document was duly witnessed by disinterested parties. A week after the will had been made, Tom Wesley came to the doctor with a magnificent scheme. Ten thousand pounds was all that was wanted to float a concern which in a few weeks would realise a hundred thousand. The doctor was impressed at onee — he saw the chance exactly as Tom saw it, and again he applied to his wife. But Mrs Markham was petulent, and this demand put her in a temper. 'No,' she said, ' you will have my money when I'm dead — you must wait till then.' From that night Mrs Markham grew worse with greater rapidity than before She felt so ill that she pleaded with the ooctor to call in a physician. She had taken to her bed by this time, and the doctor promised that if she didn't improve she should have further advice. At this time also she began to conceive a violent dislike to her sister. She asked the doctor to send her away and to let her have a proper nurse. The doctor said he would do so, and went out. The feister did not leave, but the next day a young woman from one of the nursing institutions arrived — at least the doctor told his wife she was a trained nurse, bub as a mabter of fact she was not. She was a young woman recommended by Tom Wesley, and Mrs Markham noticed that she had a wedding ring on her linger. Mrs Wilson, as the woman called herself, was a pale, pretty, young woman, of about six-and-twenty. She was very gentle, bub she seemed very nervous. Her, face was pale, and she had a frightened look in the eyes that tidgetted the invalid. Two nights after Nurse Wilson had taken up her post at the invalid's bedside, a very sbrange thing occurred. It was one o'clock in the morning, when Mrs Markham woke up. She opened her eyes and found that the nurse, who slept in a little bed near her, was not in the room. But she had seen her undress and get intu bed bwo hours previously. Presenbly the door opened and the worn an, partly dressed, crept into tho room. She had evidently been crying and appeared greatly distressed. She went straight to the little table in the bedroom, picked'up the medicine bottle, emptied it of the medicine, which was white and colourless, and refilled it with cold water. The patient saw ib. In a moment the truth flashed across her brain. Her husband had been slowly poisoning her. What had seemed strange to her previously she understood no.v. She had yielded to her husband's constant entreaties, lefl him and her sister her money by will, and now he had only one desire — to be free from the poor invalid and to enjoy her fortune. All the man's desperate villainy came home to the poor creature instantaneously. There are moments in our lives when, as if by magic, the veil that has hidden the situation of affairs from us is torn aside, and a glaring light beats down upon the truth and makes every detail clear. It was in such a moment as this bhab bhe doctor's! wife mastered the details of the infamous plot of which she was to be the victim. From that moment she suspected everybody —her husband, her sister, her brother ; they were all in league together — all in league to kill her and get her money. She did not want to die. She was unhappy, and worn out with ill-health and su tiering. At one time she had felt indifferent to life. She had fallen into that state of lethargy which is often induced by long-suffering when one aimost looks forward to death as a boon — a 9 the sleep that is to come at last as a long rest after toil and trouble. Bub bhe sudden revelation of her husband's treachery completely altered her mental condition. She wa3 at bay. Her pulse throbbed, her worn - out nerves acquired a sudden strength when she was thus suddenly brought face to face with the danger which threatened her. She believed that the deadly work had been going on for some time. It might have gone too iar already. She might even now be past recovery. But she still hoped that she might save herself now that she had found a friend and ally in the new nurse. To this woman, as soon as she had recovered from the shock of the discovery, she turned for advice. She asked her point blank who she was, and how she, a stranger, had discovered a plot which involved such ghabbly consequences bo those who were concerned in it. The nurse, who seemed to have lost her self-possession, confessed everything to the sick woman. She told her that she was Tom Wesley's wife, that he had married her some two years previously, when she was a nurse in Charing Cross Hospital, and that for some reason, best known to himself, he had kept their marriage from bhe knowledge ot his relatives. Ib was Tom who had insisted that she should come and nurse his sister. Ib was Tom who had introduced her to the doctor, and told him that she could be trusted. Why she was selected she quite understood when she discovei'ed the plobl The discovery was due to an accident Afber she had gone to bed she remembered that she had left a book downstairs in which her name, her real name, was written, *Jane Wesley.' The servant might open ib and see the name, and it would be known thab she was in bhe house under an alias. She partially dressed herself and went downstairs, walking quietly so as not to attract attention. As she passed bhe dining room door she heard the voice of her husband. She wondered why he should have come there so late at night, and wibhoub lebbing her know bhab he was coming. She listened and found that the conversation was being carried on by the doctor, her husband, and Miss Wesley. They said nothing "which would have aroused an outsider's feuspicion, but they said enough to reveal the fact that they were calculating on the death of the woman

she was nursing upstairs, and the beet way to get a doctor in, when she grew -worse, who would not suspect too much. Controlling her features with a violent effort, she went into the room. The occupants were evidently disconcerted at her sudden appearance. She explained that she had forgotten her book and the reason why she was anxious to get it, and they were satisfied. Jane Wesley's confession confirmed the invalid's worst feats. She knew now that she had to fight for her life. Her first idea was that in the morning she would insist upon a medical man being called in, but she was afraid of the consequences of such a course to her husband. In spite of all that had happened, the unhappy woman loved him — loved him too well to bring upon him the punishment that would be his should his guilt be detected. ' Far into the night the two women talked, but before the dawn they had agreed upon a plan which was to save the wife from her would-be murderers without allowing them to suffer for their attempted crime. For a week Jane Wesley nursed the patient in a way the doctor never intended. She pretended to give her the medicine, bub instead of that gave her tonics which she had prepared at the chemist's. At the end of the weeit the doctor was astonished at the improvement in his wife's health, and he at once suspected the cause. Jane Wesley saw that the counterplot was discovered, and again the two women were terrified. They both believed that the people who had been wicked enough to go a? far as the conspirators had done would only be made more desperate by a temporally check to their machinations. There was but one way now for the wife to escape without betraying her husband by calling in outside aid. She must get away from the house and go somewhere where he could not find her. Jane Wesley feared that her sister-in-law was not strong enough to take a journey, but the invalid insisted that she wav, On the following day the doctor and Miss Wesley went out, as luck would have it, both together. The doctor had gone to a patient at the other end of London, and Miss Wesley had gone to the city to see her brother. When the doctor returnee' he was met in the hall by the housemaid. 'Oh sir, 1 she exclaimed, ' Missis is gone.' ' Good God,' exclaimed the doctor. ' When did she die ?' ' She's not dead, sir— she's gone away — gone away in a cab with the nurse.' For a moment the doctor could make no reply. He stood staring at the girl in blank amazement. Then he recovered himself and went up the stairs three at a time to his wife's bedroom. It was empty. The room was in confusion — dresses and clothes were tossed here and there. A trunk had evidently been packed in a hurry ; the wardrobes turned over to select the dresseb and things to be taken away, and Mrs Markham and Jane Wesley wore gone The doctor sat down on the empty bed, and stared about him. His prey had escaped him. That was bad enough, but there might be something worse in the background. His wifo could only have been taken away in this extraordinary manner for one l'eason, and that reason was that she and her companion knew that her life was in peril while she remained under her husband's roof. As he recognised the situation a cold perspiration burst from every pore. What would these two women do ? Would they betray him ? Would his wife go to a medical man, or would Jane Wesley go to the police ? v\ hatever their plans might be, he was powerless to alter them. Even if he found out where his wife had gone to, he could not compel her to return to him. She would then declare that he had tried to poison her, and an investiga-, tion of such a charge would be disastrous to him and to his hopes. When Miss Wesley came back, the doctor told her the news. She completely lost her presence of mind. She was convinced that all would be discovered. Clara would die from the consequences of the removal and the journey in her state of health, and there would be an inquiry into the circurastance.s, and Jane Wesley would be a damning witness against them. But Jane Wesley was her brother's wife. She would hardly do anything which might involve him in trouble. The doctor shrugged his shoulders. Tom Wesley had done nothing but recommend his wife when they wanted a nurse. The guilty parties themselves could alone implicate him, and they could not do so without confessing that the charge against them was true. No evidence that Jane Wesley could give could be used against Tom, as he was her husband. But against them ! Then it was a different matter. By heaven !' exclaimed the doctor, a? he thought the situatian out, ' our lives are in Jane Wesley's hands. If Clara dies now, Tom's wife can hang us !' A month went by, and Dr. Markham was unable to discover his missing wife's where abeuts. He had not dared to continue his search for her after the day which followed her departure. On that day he received a letter. It was from his wife. It bore no address, and was very short and to the purpose. 'I know the truth, and have gone away to save you from the fate you were bringing upon yourself. Do not attempt to find me, or to follow me. So long as you leave me unmolested your se ret will be kept, but not a moment longer, If you take any steps to find me or attempt to communicate with me, I shall know what to do. CfcARA.' The doctor breathed again. So far as his wife was concerned, he was safe while she lived. But if she died — then there was Jane Wesley. Tom, who had been communicated with at once, had no news of his wife. She had not even written to him. He appeared as terrified as any of them when he heard what had happened, and begged and prayed of the doctor in almost hysterical dismay not uo .seek in any way to trace the fugitives. For a month the two accomplices lived a life of utter misery. They were a prey to constant fears of disaster. The uncertainty as to Clara's fate filled them with hourly apprehension. They feared to pick up a newspaper lest they should see her death in it. A line on the contents bills, ' Mysterious death of a lady,' which the doctor saw one day as he was in a street, had such an effect upon him that it was a week before he recovered himself. The doctor and Miss Wesley avoided each other as much as possible. The position became so painful that Miss Wesley at last left the house, and went to Brighton, where she lived in apartments. The guilty secret which bound them together kept them apart. The doctor found himself in a most peculiar position with regard to his wife's affairs. She had complete control of her own money. She drew her own cheques, and all the dividends were paid direct to her account at the bank. He wanted to ascertain if his wife was drawing cheques, if she had withdrawn any large sum ; but he hesitated to go to the bank in a straightfor ward manner and make an inquiry Like all guilty people, he fancied that the slightest circumstance would arouse suspicion against him. But if he made no in quiry— if afterward <? it were to be discovered that his wife had disappeared, and .

that lie had made no eilbvfc to find her^ if it was proved that he had not even gone to the bank to find if she was still drawing cheques, would not that also be a suspicious circumstance ? A thousand ideas pursued each other across his bewildered brain. In the absolute uncertainty as to his wife's fate, he knew not how to act for the best. All his doubts and fears were set^at rest at laßt. About two months after the flight of his wife the doctor was aroused in the night by the violent ringing of the night bell. He put his head out of the window to inquh'e who wanted him, and a man's voice answered him, • Como down and let me in ; I must see you at once.' The late visitor was Tom Wesley. Conscious that something unusual had happened, the doctor hurried on some clothes and went down and let Wesley in. He was very excited, and imparted his wonderful news at once. Jane had come back as mysteriously as she had departed — she had come back with the intelligence that the doctor's wite was dead and buried. She and Jane had gone to Dover, where they had stayed until Mrs Markbam's health had improved. From Dover they had crossed the Channel and made their way South of France, and thence they had gone to Naples. In Naples Mrs Markham had been attacked with fever, and had died in a few days. An English doctor had attended her and had certified the cause of death, and in four and twenty hours, according to the custom of the country, the poor lady had been laid to her rest. The- doctor could hardly realise the fact at first, but as the truth dawned upon him he heaved a sigh of internal relief. His wife's death could never be laid at his door now. The long spell of anxiety was at an end. On the following day he received from Tom Wesley the certificate, and wrote at once to tho English doctor for particulars of his wife's last illness. He was anxious thai everything should be done in proper form. He might have ascertained all he wanted to know from Jano Wesley, but the subject was not one upon which he cared to converse with his biother-in-law's wife. In a week thedoctor's answer was received. He had been called in to the lady too late bo save her. She had died of a fever which was very prevalent in Naples and very lapid in its development. Armed with the certificate and the letter, the doctor went at once to the bank and gave due notice of his wife's death and asked a few particulars as to the state of her account. He ascertained that from the time his wife left London she had diawn out the sum of two thousand pounds, and ho wondered what she could have wanted with so much money, and what she had dono with it. Possibly Tom's wife knew, but he was not anxious to eiossexamino her on the subject. The only com so to take was the legal one with regard to his wife's property and the will by which it became his and her sister's. He went^'down to Brighton and saw Mifes Wesley, and advised her to lemain there for the present, which she readily agreed to do. Tom Wesley was not in any great way benefited by the death of his sister, but his request for a loan of £500, as things were hard with him, was readily granted by tho doctor. Twelve months after the death of Mrs Markham, the doctor announced to Tom that he was about to bo married — it was to be a quiet wedding, and for the preseut no one would know anything about it. The doctor had sold his town practice, intending to live in the country. The property of his first wife rendered him independent of his profession. A few days before the wedding, Tom called on his brother-in-law, and in the course of a pleasant little conversation informed him that he had just developed a magnificent scheme and required £10,000 to carry it out. The doctor smiled. * My poor Tom,' he said, * I am bofcinmnpc to find your magnificent schemes out. I don't want any more of them.' ♦You refuse?' ' Absolutely.' 1 Come, Markham, I did you a good turn once. But for me, instead of having Clara's money now, you might be lying in the place where they bury murderers.' The doctor's face went crimson with rage. 'Don't try the game on, Tom Wesley,' he said. 'I have had nothing to do with Clara's death, and you know it.' Tom shrugged his shoulders. 1 I'm very sorry I ever went out of my way to holp your blackguardly scheme,' he said. ' You've got my sister's money — you forced her to make a will and then you tried to get her out of the way, because you wanted to marry Kate and live on poor Clara's fortune. It would go hard with you even now if I told my story. I think you had better shut my mouth if you want a pleasant honeymoon.' ' You'll keep your mouth shut for your own sake,' replied the doctor, angrily. 'I'm not going to be blackmailed any more, and so good morning.' * All right, my fine fellow,' muttered Tom to himself, as he left the house. ' I think you will wish you had been a little more civil to me before we meet again.' On the day arranged for the marriage, the doctor went quietly to the registrar's office, where he and Kate were to be married. He was to meet her at the door. To his surprise he saw Tom walking up and down in front of the office, and it gave him rather a turn. He imagined he might be going to renew his threats. But Tom was very pleasant. He nodded and stepped forward. ' Come along, Mark ham,' he said : ' you're late. My sister's inside already and waiting for you/ The doctor followed Tom without a word. Tom pushed open the door of the Registrar's room, and the doctor enterod. A lady was seated thero already The doctor looked at her, then gave a wild cry of horror. Tom's sister was- waiting for him, but. that sister was not Kate, but Clara. Dr. Markham on his marriage morning stood face to face with his dead wife, s Two minutes after he got out into the street, into which he had rushed almost mad with, terror at the apparition of the woman ho believed to have been in the grave for twelve months, Dr. Markham re covered his composure, and the truth gradually dawned upon him. He saw now that he had been tricked by Tom Wesley and his wife — that the story of Clara's death was an invention, and that the certificate had been obtained in some way, by trickery. But the object of the plot did not come to him at once. It had simply givon him his wife's fortune, for the will had been proved, the death and burial certificate and theevidonce of Tom Wesloy accepted, and the doctor had been allowed to enter into possession of the dead woman's property. This had all been done, but why ? ' The explanation came from Tom Wesley, who lost no time in giving it. He waited on the dootor and demanded at once a legal surrender of the property. The doctor took the bull by the horns. He declined. IJe declared that k his wife was

dead, that the death had been proved, and that he had inherited under her will. She had legally ceased to exist, and he contended that she was dead. ' Then Tom Wesley was frank for the first time. He told the doctor that it was only after his wife went to nurse Clara he learnt from her what was really going on. The doctor had told him that he wanted to keep strangers away, as he feared his wife might make another will secretly, and he wanted her watched in his interest that nothing of the sort might be done. But as soon as Tom found his sister was nob dying of disease, but v being murdered, he joined with his wife in the plot to prevent it. It was Clara's idea to pretend she was dead. She had formed a belief that nothing but her death would satisfy her husband, and that in some way he would accomplish his end. It was a fixed idea — a mania with her. While at Naples, the fever broke out and a panic ensued. An English lady, a friendless governess, died in the hotel. She was nursed by Jane Wesley, who took compassion on her. By a mistake of the hotel people, Mrs Markhams name had been put to the governess's room, and vice versa, and the doctor was informed that it was a Mrs Markham he had attended. Clara Markham saw her opportunity at once, and insisted upon Jane Wesley helping her to carry out the idea. Jane gave the doctor the Christian name and all the particulars of the dead woman, in accordance with this scheme, and so it came about that the certificate bore the name of Clara Markham when the friendless English governess was buried. Then Jane and Mrs Markham came back to England to watch the progress of events. Mrs Markham took a cottage in the country, and lived on the £2,000 she had drawn from the bank. She said that she would be able to recover her property when the time came to do so. But when Tom heard that his brother-in-law was about to marry Kate, he thought it was time to interfere. The news came upon him like a thunderbolt, and he at once told his sister it was time for her to reappear. ' Now,' said Tom, when he had concluded his narrative, ' your wite is alive, and she has no desire to trouble you with her presence, but she does not think that you deserve the fortune she left you, no you'll please to convey it to me by deed ot gift. 1 shall have no difficulty in proving her to be alive, you know.' The doctor hesitated until Tom declared that if he didn't consent he and Clara and Jane would go to the police and tell the story of the attempted poisoning, and prove in a court of law that the will had been obtained by undue influence. Then he gave way and parted with the fortune Re had risked so much to gain. Mrs Markham, under an assumed name, lives at the present time in a pretty little cottage in a quiet Devonshire wateringplace. Tom, having received the £10,000, for once in his life brought off a genuine coup with the borxowed capital, and pays his eldest sister the interest on her fortune with the utmost regularity. Dr. Markham went abroad and set up in practice in a foreign town frequented by the English, but his evil reputation has followed him, and he only just manages to exist. Kate Wesiey died soon after her sister's leturn to life by an overdose of chloral. She had to fly to that terrible drug for relief from the remorse and terror to which she fell a prey. Truth is stranger than fiction. The name of Clara Markham maj be seen to-day by the tourist in the Naples cemetery, and Clara Markham is still alive, though in the eyes of the law she has long since been dead. She died to save her life, and, being dead, recovered her fortune from the man who tried to kill her in order to get it. Her story is known only to her relatives and to one other person — the Jamons London lawyer who prepared the deed of gift, and who was placed in possession of all the facts by Mrs Markham and her brother. If the boxes and pigeon holes of that famous firm of and Son could speak, the histories they could tell would startle the world far more than the pen of the most imaginative fictionist could ever hope to do.