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Updated: May 26, 2025
In London I contrived to give the Captain the slip. By the first coach the next morning I want back to Maplesworth, eager to hear what had happened, and if the body had been found. Not a word of news reached me; nothing seemed to be known of the duel in Herne Wood. I went to the wood on foot, fearing that I might be traced if I hired a carriage. The country round was as solitary as usual.
Early that morning she was walking, after breakfast, in the park at Nettlegrove when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned, and found herself face to face with one of her suitors at Maplesworth. I am informed that there is no necessity now for my suppressing the name. The gentleman was Captain Stanwick. He was so fearfully changed for the worse that she hardly knew him again.
Finding business slack in London, it unfortunately occurred to me to try what I could do in the country. I had heard of Maplesworth as a place largely frequented by visitors on account of the scenery, as well as by invalids in need of taking the waters; and I opened a gallery there at the beginning of the season of 1817, for fencing and pistol practice.
Beyond the vague threats which had escaped Captain Stanwick's lips threats which I own I was rash enough to despise I had no warning whatever of the dreadful events which happened at Maplesworth on the day after our return to Nettlegrove Hall. I can only add that I am ready to submit to any questions that may be put to me. Pray don't think me a heartless woman. My worst fault was ignorance.
When I inquired for the ladies at their lodgings, I was told that they had left Maplesworth. I saw no more of the Captain that night. The next morning he seemed to be quite himself again. He said to me, "Thomas, I am going sketching in Herne Wood. Take the paint-box and the rest of it, and put this into the carriage."
Lionel Varleigh, of Boston, in America, visiting England, after traveling all over Europe, and stopping at Maplesworth to keep company with his friend the Captain. On their introduction, the two gentlemen, observing, no doubt, that I was a little shy, forbore delicately from pressing their society on us.
We talked of my poor mother, and we cried in each other's arms on the memorable day that made a wealthy woman of me. In a little time more, other troubles than vain regrets for the dead were to try me, and other tears were to fill my eyes than the tears which I had given to the memory of my mother. I MAY now return to my visit, in June, 1817, to the healing springs at Maplesworth.
"Whoever he is, he has died nobly," Bervie answered "May I look at him?" The workman signed that he might look. Bervie lifted the cloak and met with Doctor Lagarde once more. No. 1. Miss Bertha Laroche, of Nettlegrove Hall, testifies and says: TOWARD the middle of June, in the year 1817, I went to take the waters at Maplesworth, in Derbyshire, accompanied by my nearest relative my aunt.
She was one of the light-haired, blue-eyed sort, with an innocent look and a snaky waist not at all to be depended on, as I have found them. I hear I am not expected to give an account of the disagreement between the two gentlemen, of which this lady was the cause. I am to state what I did in Maplesworth, and what I saw afterward in Herne Wood.
"Do as I tell you," he said: "you have yourself to thank for it if I refuse to lose sight of you now." I managed to say that he might trust me to say nothing. He refused to trust me; he put out his hand to take hold of me. I could not stand that. "I'll go with you," I said; "don't touch me!" We reached the carriage and returned to Maplesworth. The same day we traveled by post to London.
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