XIV
Lady Rossiter, a few days later, put on a comparatively new set of black fox furs, which helped to enhance in her the agreeable conviction of being in a position to be kind to those less fortunate than herself, and drove to Culmouth College.
It was her intention to put the matter of the presentation upon a sound footing without delay, and she had purposely chosen a Saturday afternoon for her visit, knowing that the College would be almost empty and that Fairfax Fuller was generally to be found there alone until half-past two or three o'clock.
The Supervisor, however—the window of whose private office gazed on to that side of the street by which the College was approached—proved strangely difficult of access.
The place seemed almost deserted, but Lady Rossiter encountered downstairs the small and precocious-looking student of shorthand whom she and Iris had remarked at the speed test.
"Do you know if Mr. Fuller is here, little boy?" she enquired of him, with that extra distinct enunciation by which so many people indicate their consciousness of addressing a social inferior, but also with a very agreeable smile.
Edna believed much in the power of a smile, and sometimes quoted a few lines of those popular verses, "Just by smiling."
"Ay," said the little boy.
"Will you go and tell him that a lady would like to see him?" said Edna, who did not think the youth capable of reporting her name correctly.
"Ay."
The messenger departed, whistling shrilly, and presently returned grinning broadly.
"Mr. Fuller, he's so busy as ever he can be. Could you give a message, like?"
"I'm afraid not," said Edna, suave but firm. "Tell him it's Lady Rossiter."
"I told him that," said the youth, looking still more amused.
Edna began to feel that the value of smiles might be overrated.
"Thank you. I'd better go myself. I'm so much obliged to you."
She nodded at the little boy rather distantly and went herself to knock at the closed door of Mr. Fuller's office.
A voice within uttered a short, sharp ejaculation which Lady Rossiter, with an optimism that did more credit to her imagination than to her common-sense, interpreted to mean, "Come in!"
The room she entered was thick with the smoke and odour of the peculiarly rank tobacco affected by Mr. Fairfax Fuller, and in spite of an open window, a haze of blue fumes hung over the table at which he sat, his head thrust aggressively forward and his elbows squared.
Few things could have been less expressive of welcome than his unsmiling "Good afternoon," as he rose to his feet and laid his cherry-wood pipe upon the table.
"Don't stop smoking, I'm quite used to it," said Lady Rossiter, gasping a little. "Are you very busy?"
"Yes, very," said Mr. Fuller uncompromisingly.
"Then I mustn't keep you," his visitor smilingly observed. "May I sit down?"
Fuller moved a chair about two inches in her direction and pushed into prominence the broad leather strap and silver watch on his hairy and powerful wrist.
Lady Rossiter affected not to observe this gesture, which she preferred to attribute to the awkwardness of embarrassment rather than to any want of cordiality.
"And is all well with our College?" she enquired brightly, and casting a friendly glance at the papers on the table, all of which Mr. Fuller immediately thrust into the nearest pigeon-hole.
"The College is all right."
"That's good. You know it's very near my heart. I shall never forget how we've seen it grow from the very start, and the interest one's had in every member of the staff. I'm sure you're like me, Mr. Fuller, and care a great deal about thehumanelement."
Edna paused, but the sympathetic response which might reasonably have been expected was not forthcoming.
"We've been so like a little family party here, I always think—especially those of us who saw the very beginning of all things. Let me see, I think you and I and Sir Julian, and of course Mr. Easter, are the only ones left of the original committee, aren't we? Oh, and the old Alderman."
Fuller emitted a sound that might conceivably pass for a rejoinder.
"They're all so pleased about Miss Easter's engagement—a wedding is always an excitement, isn't it? Have they," said Edna, momentarily thoughtless, "have they told you of their little scheme for making her a presentation?"
"As I happen to be Supervisor of the staff, they naturally came to me in the first place, Lady Rossiter."
"Of course they did. How stupid of me! One forgets all the grades and distinctions, there are so many of them now. But it was really about the presentation plans that I wanted to talk to you."
She waited in vain for some assurance that the wish had been in any way mutual.
"I felt sure that you and I would understand one another," said Edna, almost pleadingly, "if we had a little talk together."
Silence.
Lady Rossiter could no longer disguise from herself that the little talk, if it was to take place at all, must do so in the form of an unsupported monologue. She began courageously:
"I like the idea, you know, and I think it will touch and gratify Miss Easter and her brother very much indeed. Only these schemes are always the better for tactful handling, don't you agree with me? We don't want any little awkwardnesses. And I'm not quite sure that I think the suggestion of having the presentation made by poor Miss Marchrose was a very wise one. Now, Mr. Fuller, I know I can speak to you in confidence, and I'm going to say something that I should never dream of saying to any other member of the staff. I am sorry to tell you that there are reasons—I needn't go into them, they are very painful ones—why Miss Marchrose should not be selected to offer this little present to a young and innocent girl on behalf of the staff. I know I need not go into details."
Fuller stared at Lady Rossiter with dark, smouldering eyes.
"I'm perfectly satisfied with Miss Marchrose's behaviour since she's been here," he growled at last.
Up went Edna's eyebrows, all too expressively. "That's as it may be, Mr. Fuller. A woman is sometimes a good deal more clear-sighted than a man, in certain matters. But I happen to have heard a good deal about Miss Marchrose before she came here at all, and as a member of the General Committee, and also of Mr. Cooper's little committee for the presentation, I may tell you that I very decidedly veto any suggestion of letting her represent the staff of this College."
The Supervisor looked her full in the eyes.
"Are you telling me, Lady Rossiter, that that girl isn't straight?"
Edna's opaque white skin, that seldom registered alteration, coloured faintly.
"Mr. Fuller, God forbid that I should condemn any woman unheard. I won't pretend not to know what you mean."
"I can put it plainer if you like," Fuller retorted. "But I want yes or no, Lady Rossiter."
"Then," said Edna with dignity, "as far as I can tell,no."
"I should damned well think not," exploded Fairfax Fuller, without a trace of apology. "I take my orders from Sir Julian Rossiter, and until he's lost confidence in me, I run this staff the way I think best. You'll excuse me, Lady Rossiter, if I say that I think we've discussed the matter long enough."
Edna stood up, more angry than she had ever allowed herself to be since the days of her girlhood.
"You forget yourself altogether, Mr. Fuller, and I feel certain that you will be the first person to realise that an apology is due to me when you are yourself again."
For all answer, Fuller opened the door and banged it to again almost before she had crossed the threshold.
Lady Rossiter, in the hall outside, found her knees shaking under her in a manner hitherto unknown to her. Fairfax Fuller's temper, displayed after the fashion of his kind, was a return to nature of which she had never before had experience. Not devoid of an instinctive reluctance to being found, shaken and agitated, in the College which had only been allowed to see her as a serene visiting goddess, Edna almost furtively made her way upstairs in search of an empty classroom in which to calm herself.
A general quiet pervaded the upper floor of the building; the smell of soap and water upon newly-scrubbed boards proclaimed the recent presence of the usual Saturday afternoon charwoman. Lady Rossiter, still shaking, felt the imperative need of a champion, and murmured something indignant to herself about a woman alone, which was shortly afterwards disproved by a distant and subdued sound of unceasing voices. Edna reflected that even young Cooper might be of solace, and was also not averse from seizing the opportunity of disclaiming all further connection with the presentation of Iris' wedding-present.
She rose wearily, crossing the lobby in search of the just-audible voice that she judged to come from the smallest and most remote classroom. The door was shut, but through the upper panels of glass Lady Rossiter was only too well enabled to perceive that which struck fresh dismay to her mind.
Miss Marchrose was sitting at a small table in the window, her back to the door, her head bent, and her hands idle in her lap. Beside her sat Mark Easter, his voice still audible, and in front of him a disordered pile of papers at which he made no pretence of looking.
Lady Rossiter drew back almost upon the instant, but she had seen that he was speaking much more earnestly than was usual with him.
From sheer desire to gain time in which to consider these unwelcome phenomena, Edna retreated once more to the room across the landing.
She remained there in thought for nearly twenty minutes, subconsciously aware that the murmur of those two voices went on almost without intermission the while.
The noise as of heavily-nailed boots galloping up the uncarpeted stairs came to distract her, and the little boy whom she had seen earlier in the afternoon burst into the room.
"Were you looking for me?" Lady Rossiter enquired rather severely.
"Mr. Fuller axed me if you were here still."
"It's almost time for my car to call for me," Edna said with dignity. "I am just coming down."
She had entirely regained her usual poise, and faced Fairfax Fuller, who stood at the open door of his room, obviously awaiting her, with perfect composure.
The Supervisor looked very much heated, but spoke with grim formality.
"I must apologise for the expression I used to you just now, Lady Rossiter."
Edna looked at him for a moment, and then let the wide charity of her slowly-dawning smile envelop his very patent anger and confusion.
"But that's quite enough! Perhaps we both grew rather excited; but after all, the best of friends must have their little quarrels. I am more than ready to forget."
"Say no more about it," muttered Fuller, obviously under the impression that he was gracefully bringing matters to a conclusion.
"Ah, but one word more I must say," Edna interposed quickly. "You know, I'm afraid I must hold quite, quite firm about the presentation. Or perhaps I had better tell Mr. Cooper that, much as I appreciate having been consulted, I prefer to withdraw from his committee."
Fuller's bulldog jaw was set hard.
"That's as you like, of course."
If Edna had not expected such a rejoinder, the tremor with which she received it was all but imperceptible.
"I'm sorry we don't see things in the same light," she said sweetly, "and I can't tell you how heartily glad I should be to find myself in the wrong about poor Miss Marchrose."
She hesitated for a moment, but neither the voice nor the expression of Mr. Fairfax Fuller appeared to denote any readiness to resume a discussion previously so much fraught with verbal disaster. So Edna, almost hearing herself pause to think, "Is it kind, is it wise, is it true?" said, "Good afternoon, Mr. Fuller," with perfect cordiality, and descended the stairs, unescorted by the Supervisor.
On the doorstep she encountered old Alderman Bellew, who greeted her with the more cordiality that he had expected to find Sir Julian, of whom he was rather afraid.
"Seeing the car outside, I thought Sir Julian might have run in for a moment on business, and I was anxious to see him. But it'll keep—it'll very well keep. I've had a little walk for nothing, that's all, and it won't do me any harm."
The obese old man was panting.
"May I give you a lift anywhere? I always think that's the best of a car—one can be of use to people who haven't got one."
"Well, I declare that's very kind of you. Would the Council House be out of your way?"
"Not at all."
The Alderman dropped thankfully on to the comfortable seat offered him.
"Did you want to see my husband?" Edna sweetly enquired, not devoid of curiosity.
"Only on a little matter of business connected with the College. It came into my mind that I could get a word with him when I saw the car outside the door. But I daresay I shall see him next week—or I can drop him a line."
"Even Julian," said Lady Rossiter intentionally, "is hardly more interested in our College than I am. You know how I've followed its career from the very beginning and always kept in the closest possible touch with the members of the staff. And I needn't tell you that I've never yet missed a General Committee meeting."
"Have you not, indeed!" responded the Alderman, obviously debating in his own mind whether or not he should take Lady Rossiter into his further confidence with regard to the affairs of Culmouth College.
She maintained a tactful silence.
"The fact is, Lady Rossiter, that a suggestion has been made—this is quite confidential, you understand—for opening a new branch of the College. They're asking for something of the same kind in Gloucestershire, and it appears that the municipal authorities are ready enough to guarantee the funds. I have a very gratifying letter, which I want your husband to see, speaking in most complimentary terms of our little show here. Of course, it's quite understood to be more or less run on philanthropic lines. That chap Fuller has done marvels, and actually achieved a balance on the right side, but the concern isn't primarily meant to be a paying one, as I needn't tell you."
"No, indeed. One's idea was to fit the wage-earners rather more for their task—to help the inhabitants of our little corner of the Empire to help themselves."
"Quite so. And apparently the fame of our little enterprise has spread," said the old man, with great satisfaction. "They actually want me to send a representative to look at the buildings they have in view, and put things in train a bit. Rather gratifying for little Culmouth, eh?"
"Yes, indeed."
"Of course, it all depends on Sir Julian's consent—naturally, that's an understood thing. After all he's done for us, and his position and all."
"I am quite sure you may count upon him," said Edna graciously. "He will appreciate the compliment to our small experiment as much as I do."
If the good Alderman felt slightly puzzled at the extremely proprietary attitude adopted by his listener, he knew better than to give any sign of it.
"There'll be great excitement amongst the staff," he said. "But, of course, they'll know nothing about it for the present."
"There's something rather unsettled about the staff just now," Edna thoughtfully rejoined. "You know how things can befeltin the air sometimes, and I've fancied rather an absence of our usualesprit de corpslately. I haven't quite known what to attribute it to——"
Being at all events perfectly well aware of what she was going to attribute it to now, Lady Rossiter only paused long enough to make sure that the Alderman, listening open-mouthed, had no theory to put forward.
"May I speak quite frankly, and in confidence?"
"Of course, of course."
"It's a thing that's rather difficult to speak of at all, but, of course, you know Mr. Easter's circumstances as well as I do. He is a married man."
Alderman Bellew, looking more astounded than ever, gave a breathless nod of assent.
"And also," said Edna, smiling a little, "he happens to be an extremely attractive person. Consequently, when a young—a fairly young—woman spends her Saturday afternoons typing at the estate office, and then has herself escorted home afterwards, and keeps all her civility, and all her smiles, and all her conversation, for one particular person—well, one is inclined to wonder a little, that's all."
"Bless my soul!" ejaculated the astonished Alderman.
Edna suddenly became grave.
"You understand that I'm not, for one single instant, hinting at any sort or kind of—of understanding or flirtation between them. I know Mark, I suppose, better than anybody else on earth knows him, and I trust him absolutely. But I needn't tell you—a man is a man."
"Of course," said the Alderman portentously, as one resolved to rise to the occasion, "we really know very little abouther. I suppose you mean the Lady Superintendent?"
"Yes, poor Miss Marchrose. Don't think that I would willingly say an unkind word about her, forindeedI could never cast the first stone. But I've been uneasy for some time, and this afternoon it gave me a little shock to see something—oh, never mind what! A straw very often shows which way the wind blows."
Having by this reticence left the simple-minded Alderman to infer the existence of a whole truss of straw at the very least, Lady Rossiter leant back and closed her eyes, as though in weary retrospect.
"It would never do to have talk of that kind going about, Lady Rossiter. Demoralise the staff in a moment, you know. I remember rather a similar case, years ago, in the big insurance office where I started life. One of the partners played the fool—nothing wrong, you know, but there was a pretty typist, and he was for ever sending for her to take down letters, and the others got talking—you can guess the sort of thing. The girl had to get the sack, of course."
The matter-of-factness of this conclusion was against all Lady Rossiter's avowed principles of championship of her sex, and consistency would not allow her to assent. But she gave a heavy sigh, and said:
"I know the sort of thing you mean, and gossip spreads so easily in a little community like ours. I can't help knowing, either, that one or two people have already noticed the way in which Miss Marchrose behaves."
"Oh, well, you know," leniently remarked the old man, "it may not be altogether her doing. Easter has no business to forget he's a married man."
"I am afraid," Edna answered with reserve, "that I know one or two things about Miss Marchrose which go to show that she is not exactly an inexperienced person. Besides, women have very strong instincts sometimes, and get to know a good deal by intuition. I will tell you perfectly honestly, Mr. Bellew, that I've never altogether trusted her, although it seems a hard thing to say."
Perhaps the Alderman was somewhat of the same opinion.
"What does Sir Julian think?"
"He has comparatively few opportunities of judging; and besides, I haven't really discussed the matter with him. One does dislike anything of that sort so intensely, it's very difficult sometimes to speak of it."
"Yes, yes, Lady Rossiter—of course. But you mustn't distress yourself, on any account. That would never do. You know, the girl can go."
Edna was sincerely horrified at this ruthless cutting of the Gordian knot.
"Oh, but it's her livelihood! We could hardly turn her away like that, unless there was anything definite. There should always be infinite pitifulness, to my mind. Mine is only a humble little creed, but that's the keynote of it all. Long-suffering. Sometimes a woman can do more than a man in such cases. Much as one would dislike it, perhaps one might say a word or two."
"Well, well, it's very good of you, I'm sure. The poor thing may be in a false position altogether," said the Alderman, with more compassion than Edna, in spite of her creed, thought altogether called for by the possible plight of the Lady Superintendent.
"I know I can rely on you to keep all this to yourself absolutely. Perhaps I ought hardly to have spoken, but it gave me a great shock this afternoon. However, we needn't go into that. There is really nothing to be done, except to be very much on one's guard as to possible gossip amongst the staff."
"We must await developments," said the Alderman solemnly.
On this noncommittalcliché, he thanked Lady Rossiter very much for having brought him to the steps of the Council House, and ponderously ascended them, still evidently full of thought as to her hinted revelations.
Edna, deeply reflective, was motored back to Culmhayes. The question of the presentation had almost been driven from her mind by the preoccupation engendered at the sight of Mark Easter and Miss Marchrose in their companionable solitude. Her suspicions, already stirring, were now in a lively state of activity, and her feelings divided between an unconscious satisfaction in having been proved a true prophet and a very real apprehension as to the condition of Mark Easter's affections. She remained, however, carefully compassionate in her thoughts of the chief culprit, and was resolved that no impetuosity of Alderman Bellew's should summarily deprive Miss Marchrose of a good post, and incidentally provide her with a grievance.
Edna's appeal to the Alderman had been as nearly impulsive as any utterance of hers ever could be. She had chosen her words—as she always did—but the instinct that had moved her to speak at all was the age-old and overmastering desire of drawing attention instantly to the failure of a fellow-creature in subscribing to the recognised code.
She consecrated several grave moments of thought to the situation, which she mentally qualified as a problem, although she would have been puzzled to define the exact necessity for a solution.
In her own room, Lady Rossiter became still further conscious of the disturbed state of her spirits.
She rang for her maid.
"Shall I take your furs, m'lady?"
Edna parted with her last shred of calm, in some mysterious fashion, when the comfortable and eminently becoming weight was lifted from her shoulders.
"I am very tired, Mason," she remarked patiently.
"Yes, m'lady? It's rather tiring weather," said Mason woodenly.
"I don't know about that. But when one thinks a great deal about other people—their weakness and ingratitude and folly—it seems to wear one out, somehow."
"I've mended the blue tea-gown, m'lady. Shall I put it out?"
"No," said Edna, with most unwonted sharpness.
It seemed to her that Mason was a woman on whom it was extraordinarily difficult to make any impression. Edna sedulously "took an interest" in all her servants, and made a point of lending books to her own maid, but never had she met with one less responsive to her influence.
She compressed her lips slightly, and made the small, collected pause with which it was her custom to counter such rare tendencies to irritability as she ever experienced.
The instant's recollection was followed, as always, by a flow of larger, more serene charity, enveloping successfully even the recalcitrant Mason.
"I hope you have a nice book for Sunday, Mason. I know it's your great day for reading."
"Yes, thank you, m'lady."
Lady Rossiter's thoughts dwelt tenderly on those copies of Ruskin and Stevenson, in the rather cheaper editions, which she kept for purposes of lending. She had drawn attention to several passages in them by faint scorings in pencil.
"Well, and which is it?"
Mason looked blanker than ever.
"What, m'lady?"
"Which book are you reading, Mason?"
The silence that ensued might, from Mason's expression, have been construed as one both sulky and resentful, but Edna waited with implacable sunniness.
Finally the maid, opening the door for her mistress, replied in a vicious manner:
"Well, m'lady, at the present, I'm reading a sweetly pretty story called 'East Lynne.'"