The Mandarin's Fan

The vast apartments of the Bristol were thrown open, and decked with flowers; an Irish Band, – The Paddies, – was engaged from London, and many people came down from the great city to be present.

It was a perfect night when the ball was held, and the terrace on the first floor of the hotel, or to speak more properly the balcony, was thronged with people.

It looked very pretty, as it was filled with tropical ferns and plants and trees, illuminated with Chinese lanterns and made comfortable with numerous arm chairs, and plenty of small marble-topped tables.

Between the dances, people finding the rooms too warm, came out to walk in the night air. There was no moon, but the night was starry and warm, and a soft luminous light was reflected on sea and land. Standing under the great fern-trees and amidst the fairy lights, the guests could survey with pleasure the vast waste of water stretching towards the clear horizon, and see the long pier glittering with innumerable lights. Needless to say, the terrace was much frequented by amorous couples.

Within, the ball-room, gay with flowers and draperies, with a waxed floor and many electric light in coloured globes, looked very pretty. The band was hidden behind a lofty floral screen, and played the latest seductive waltzes, interspersed with inspiriting barn-dances and quaint cake-walks. The women were lovely, and the dresses perfect, so the young men enjoyed themselves not a little. Rupert was present, looking handsome in his evening dress, but rather flushed and anxious. He was not sure if Miss Wharf would come, in which case Olivia would not be present. And, if the old maid did recover sufficiently to make her appearance, she would perhaps refuse to allow him to dance with the girl.

However Miss Wharf did appear though at a somewhat late hour. She was gowned in pale blue and looked very handsome, if somewhat stout. Olivia's dark beauty revealed itself in a primrose-hued dress, and Miss Pewsey looked more like a witch than ever in a black frock glittering with jet. This was the gift of Miss Wharf, as poor Miss Pewsey would never have been able to indulge in such extravagance. At the back and in attendance on the Ivy Lodge party, were Clarence Burgh and Dr. Forge. The buccaneer looked picturesque and dashing as usual and was dressed very quietly for one of his flamboyant tastes, though he showed to disadvantage beside the perfection of Rupert's garb. Forge wore a suit which might have been made for his grandfather, and which fitted his lank form ill. The doctor looked less his cool self, than was usually the case. His parchment face was flushed and his melancholy eyes glittered as they roved round the brilliant room. Rupert wondered if he was looking for Tung-yu, and glanced round the room himself to see if the Chinaman had arrived in Chris Walker's company. But he could not perceive him.

Putting his fortune to the test, and having come to no open rupture with the lady, Rupert boldly walked up to Miss Wharf and offered his hand. She gave him rather a peculiar look and coloured a little. But to his secret satisfaction she received him very kindly. Olivia took her husband's greeting with a quiet smile, rather cold, as she knew well Miss Pewsey was watching her face. As to that lady, she hovered round the group like an ugly old fairy, about to weave the spell.

"And where is the Major?" asked Miss Pewsey in her emphatic way, "surely he is present on this occasion."

"I am sorry to say that the Major is laid up with a bad cold," said Rupert. "I have just been to see him. He is not coming."

"A cold spoils his beauty," tittered Miss Pewsey, "dear me, how very vain that man is."

"A cold has not spoilt Miss Wharf's beauty at all events," said Ainsleigh, seeing his way to a compliment. "I never saw you look so well," he added with a bow.

"Thanks to Lavinia's nursing," laughed the lady. "Olivia can you keep still while that delicious music is playing. I'm sure Mr. Burgh – "

"I think Miss Rayner is engaged to me," put in Rupert promptly.

Miss Wharf tapped him on the shoulder with the very fan, about which there had been so much talk. "No I can't spare you," she said amiably. "I want to chat with you. Olivia?"

The girl exchanged a look with her husband and saw that his eyes were fastened on the fan. Resolved to give him a chance of talking to her aunt about it, she moved away on the arm of the buccaneer to join in the whirling throng. Forge offered his arm to Miss Pewsey, not to dance, but to escort her on to the terrace, and so it came about that aunt Sophia and Rupert were left alone in a quiet corner of the room.

Miss Wharf cast a side glance at the young man and seeing how handsome and gay he was, she heaved a sigh. Perhaps she was thinking of his father whom she had loved dearly, but if so, the emotion was only momentary, for she compressed her lips and drew herself up stiffly. "Mr. Ainsleigh," she said, "you never come to see me now. How is that?"

"I thought you did not wish to see me," said Rupert frankly.

"Oh yes I do. Your father was an old friend of mine, and for his sake I wish to be kind to you."

Rupert saw that she was unaware that he had met Olivia secretly, and had heard the story of the early romance. It was not wise, he thought, to bring up the subject, so he met her on her own ground. "You can be very kind to me if you wish," he said casting a significant glance on Olivia who floated past with Burgh.

Miss Wharf followed his gaze and frowned, shaking her head. "No," she said severely, "you must give up the idea of marrying Olivia."

"I can't do that," replied Rupert, thinking of his secret marriage, "and I don't see why you should refuse to let me love her."

"I can't prevent that," snapped Miss Wharf, "love her as much as you choose, but as another man's wife," and again she looked oddly at Rupert, who wondered what she meant.

"What an immoral remark," he said, "perhaps you will explain."

"Mr. Ainsleigh I will be frank with you," said the lady calmly, "you have no money, and are liable to lose Royabay. I hold a mortgage it is true and by the end of the year I can foreclose; but that, I shall not do if you give up Olivia. If I foreclose, you know well enough that your other creditors will come down on you, and you will lose all. I hold the scales," added she significantly.

"I see that well enough Miss Wharf, but many things may happen before the end of the year."

"You mean that you will get the money to pay me and others?"

"I might even mean that," answered Rupert coolly, "and if I am a bad match, I don't think Mr. Burgh is a better. I have at least a position and a clean name."

"What do you know about Clarence Burgh?" she asked quickly.

"Nothing, save that he is an adventurer, Miss Wharf. He comes from no-where, and swaggers about Marport as if it belonged to him. He has no recognised position and he is not a gentleman."

"Oh but he is, and I want him to marry Olivia."

"And thus you would condemn Olivia to misery. She loves me – "

"A girl's love," said Miss Wharf coolly, "she'll soon get over that. Mr. Burgh is Lavinia's nephew, and I have promised Lavinia that Olivia shall be his wife."

"Why in heaven's name?" asked Rupert angrily, "he has no money."

"Oh yes he has, and may have a chance of getting more. Lavinia has been a good friend to me for years and years – all my life in fact, Mr. Ainsleigh. I owe much to her, and I intend to repay her. Her heart is set on this match and Olivia must marry Clarence."

"Olivia shall not."

"Olivia shall. I set my will against yours Mr. Ainsleigh."

"You'll find my will is stronger," said Rupert coolly.

Miss Wharf gave a short laugh. "Try," she said curtly; then her hard eyes softened and her cold manner grew warmer. "Don't let us quarrel," she said gently. "I wish you well, and would give you anything save Olivia – "

"Which is the only thing I want."

"How rude of you to call Olivia a 'thing,'" said the woman lightly, "you may make up your mind that if you marry her, I shall leave my money to Miss Pewsey."

"Do so. I don't want your money."

"Five hundred a year is not enough," sneered Miss Wharf, "but I may have more. What do you say to five thousand – "

"Oh," interrupted Rupert coolly, "so Olivia has told you about the fan – or perhaps Miss Pewsey."

"It was Olivia. I believe Clarence Burgh told her. This fan," Miss Wharf unfurled the article, "means five thousand pounds – "

"Or a cut throat," said Rupert quickly.

"Pah! how foolish you are, as though such a thing could happen in England. Were we in China I admit that I should be afraid to keep this fan; but as it is I am perfectly safe. See here, Mr. Ainsleigh," she added bending towards him, "if you will give up Olivia I will give you this fan and you can get the money to pay off your creditors."

"No," said Rupert at once. "I need thirty thousand, not five. And even if you were to give me the thirty thousand I need, I would not sell Olivia for that sum."

"Look at the fan first," said Miss Wharf and gave it to him.

Rupert's nerves thrilled as he took the dainty trifle in his hand. So much had been said about it, so much hung on it, of the meaning of which he was ignorant, that he could not look at it without feeling the drama it represented. Balzac's remark about killing a Mandarin in China to obtain a fortune, occurred to his mind. This fan dainty and fragile, might cost the life of such a Mandarin. It all depended into whose hands it fell.

The fan was exactly as the advertisement described. On one side the pale green sticks were enamelled and smooth; on the other thin slivers of jade covered the wood, and were inscribed in quaint Chinese characters in gold. The handle was of gold, and therefrom hung a thick cord of yellow silk, with four beads and half a bead thereon. Three beads and the half one were of jade, but the remaining ball was of jasper. What these might mean Rupert could not understand, but apparently they were connected with the secret of the fan, whatever that might be. Certainly, whatever its significance, the secret dealt with the life of Lo-Keong, with the life of Dr. Forge, and with the life of Miss Wharf, seeing she now possessed the article. All the time Rupert furled and unfurled the fan, admiring its beauty, she kept her cold eyes on him. "Think," she whispered, "five thousand pounds may gain you a few months respite – you may be able to save the Abbey."