CHAPTER XXXV
AS for Letty Glyn, she returned to Thornby bearing her maiden name; a disgraced wife, who eighteen years previously had left the village in such a blaze of triumph, that its reflection had illuminated three parishes. The knowledge of her altered circumstances had long been public property, and mothers whispered to their daughters as she passed, the story of pretty Miss Letty, sometimes adding: “Aye, she was a rare beauty, and carries her looks still!”
A paragraph in a society paper which penetrated to the Indian frontier, informed Colonel Lumley that ‘Hugo Blagdon and his daughter Miss Blagdon had returned to Hill Street from the Riviera.’
So Cara, the blue-eyed, had deserted her mother, and gone over to the enemy! And now Letty was free, since ‘the cause and impediment’ had abandoned her. He determined to go home at once; but leave, what about leave? Camps and manœuvres were on foot—he must bide his time until the autumn. Meanwhile, he wrote and announced his plans and intentions to Mrs. Glyn, Oldcourt, and she showed her friend part of a letter which said:
“I shall take three months’ ‘privilege leave’ to England, and I do not intend on this, the third, occasion, to returnalone.”
It was early in September when Colonel Lumley landed at Dover. As he glanced through the day’s papers in the London train, his eye was arrested by this paragraph: “Sudden death of Hugo Blagdon, the well-known sportsman.”
It appeared that Mr. Blagdon had had a seizure on a race-course, been conveyed to his hotel in an unconscious condition, and there died. Here, indeed, was news!
That same evening Colonel Lumley went down to Thornby, where he was warmly welcomed by his relatives. He dined at Oldcourt, and as he and Letty sat once more at the table of a hostess who had once rashly attempted to lend a hand to Fate—they were a striking pair—though eighteen years had elapsed since their last meeting in that very room. In spite of the cruel shocks of fortune, Letty was still a beautiful woman; the line of her features, the delicacy of her skin, the shine on her glorious hair, had not been tarnished. She looked radiant in mauve chiffon, and wearing her mother’s Indian pearls. Her fiancé, bronzed and in a way storm-beaten, was handsome; the wearer of three well-deserved medals, and a leader of men—but the simple girl of seventeen, and young, eager, and impassioned Lancelot, were no more.
The following afternoon they walked together to the crooked bridge, so well remembered by both; they recalled that winter sunset, the spasmodic talk, the expressive silence of many years ago; between then and now, what a stretch of wide experience!
“If I had only spoken out the last time I was here,” said Lumley, “what a lot it would have saved us! I daresay we would have been married in a couple of years, and when our hearts were younger—though for you, Letty, mine has never changed!”
“Aunt Dorothy would never have allowed it,” replied Letty with decision; “never. And you know how she persuaded your aunt to tell me, that an engagement between us, would be yourruin.”
“Good Lord, what a woman!”
“I really married Hugo because I was terrified of her.”
“Yes, unfortunate child, and went straight out of the frying-pan, into the fire.”
“But, Lancelot, I was the last sort of wife for Hugo. I always seemed to do the wrong thing. I believe, he would have been quite happy with a woman of his own world. I was an experiment; a mistake,” and her lip quivered.
“A costly mistake for you! Poor Letty,” and he looked at her with peculiar tenderness. Now at last she should have someone to protect her; someone to stand between her, and the buffetings of Fate. “Where is your aunt?” he enquired, “dead?” the tone was positively hopeful.
“No, indeed, she is married again to a man ten years younger than herself. They live at Brighton on her money; and I’m told,—though this is dreadful gossip,—that he gambles and flirts, and leads her rather a life; but he isverygood-looking, and she adores him.”
“Impossible! She never adored anything in her life but a blue plate! Letty, to turn to another much more interesting subject—you will marry me soon, won’t you—in a week?”
“Oh, no, Lancelot—he was only buried at Sharsley on Friday. Let us wait a month, since”—and she swallowed a lump in her throat—“we have waited so long.”
“Well, all right, a month, so be it; a month from to-day.”
Later, as they strolled towards the village, Lumley said:
“When I passed through town yesterday, I lunched at the Rag, and heard some fellows talking. They said Blagdon had been frightfully hard hit over the Leger, and indeed lately all round. When the numbers went up he dropped his glasses, turned purple, and collapsed. The doctors and the girl got him home. I’m afraid it will be a tremendous change forher.”
“Yes, poor child, it must have been a dreadful shock; but she will be rich—Cara is well provided for.”
“I am not so sure; you know the property is entailed. Old Laban Blagdon never dreamt that the place he was so proud of, would pass to a New Zealand squatter.”
“He will sell it, of course.”
“Impossible; it’s strictly tied up; miserable man, it will be his white elephant. Frances says the house is tumbling to pieces, and that rabbits swarm in the grounds.”
Later that same afternoon, the Blagdon affairs were discussed in the Rectory drawing-room by Mrs. Denton, her nephew, and Mrs. Hesketh,—whilst the Rector took his friend Letty into the garden in order to advise her respecting some important improvements.
“I had a long letter this morning from Doodie,” announced her cousin. “You know she is always sodeeplyinterested in legacies, and wills. She tells me that Hugo Blagdon’s debts to money-lenders are enormous; and the Hill Street house is mortgaged to the roof, and must be sold as it stands—and if there is three or four hundred a year for Cara, she may think herself lucky. She and her aunt are to live together in the flat.”
“I wonder how that arrangement will work out?” said Colonel Lumley, “and how Cara and her aunt will agree?”
“They will fight like the Kilkenny cats,” rejoined Mrs. Hesketh with prompt decision. “Let us hope they will come to the same historical end.”
“My dear friend,” protested Mrs. Denton, “I know you don’t mean that! As for Cara, of course she is headstrong, but she is young, and perhaps——”
At this moment the door opened to admit a maid carrying the tea-tray. As she was immediately followed by Cara’s mother, and the Rector, Mrs. Denton’s sentence remained for ever incomplete.
There was a quiet wedding at Thornby when, for the second time, ‘Lettice Kathleen’ was married by Mr. Denton. On this occasion, it was quite a humbleaffair; there were no arches, no rice-throwing, no champing grey horses, or gaping crowds; the newly wedded couple, motored away from the church, and spent the honeymoon in Devonshire.
Shortly before Colonel and Mrs. Lumley took their departure for Lucknow, the latter received a long letter from her daughter. It was urgent, incoherent, and self-excusing (the immediate result of a terrific encounter with her companion in the lair). She implored her own sweet darling Mum, to take her with her to India. Unlike the application to her father, this effusion was not rewritten, altered, and recast: but inscribed with many dashes, a flowing pen and assured confidence. Cara told herself, that the Mum who had never said no to her in all her life, or turned a deaf ear to her most daring petitions, would be thankful to have her back; her mental eye already beheld dazzling visions of triumphs at the viceregal Court, the flower of the Indian Army at her feet, her mother once more her unselfish, and devoted slave.
But to Cara’s surprise her gushing despatch was promptly answered by her stepfather; who in a firm, clear hand, and a few terse sentences, conveyed to her, her mother’s good wishes, forgiveness, and farewell.
A week later, Colonel and Mrs. Lumley sailed alone.
WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD., PRINTERS, PLYMOUTH
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE:Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.The cover image for this eBook was created by the transcriber and is entered into the public domain.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE:
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
The cover image for this eBook was created by the transcriber and is entered into the public domain.