CHAPTER XXIV
AS Cecil and Lee were descending the tower stair an hour later he said to her:
“Don’t look for me to-night when you are ready to come home; I am coming straight here after dinner. It’s high time I got to work on my speeches.”
She slipped her hand into his. “Shall I come too and sit with you?”
He returned her pressure and did not answer at once. Then he said: “No; I think I’d rather you didn’t. If I am to lose you for a year I had better get used to it as soon as possible.”
She lifted her head to tell him that she had no intention of leaving him for the present, then felt a perverse desire to torment him a little longer. She intended to be so charming to him later that she felt she owed that much to herself. But she was dressed to-night for his special delectation. If Cecil had a preference in the matter of her attire it was for transparent white, and she wore a gown of white embroidered mousseline de soie flecked here and there with blue.
They were still some distance from the door which led into the first of the corridors, for the stair was winding, worn, and steep, and, in spite of several little lamps, almost dark. Cecil paused suddenly andturned to her, plunging his hands into his pockets. She could hardly see his face, for a slender ray from above lay full across her eyes; but she had thought, as she had joined him in the sitting-room above a few moments since, that he had never looked more handsome. He grew pale in London, but a few days on the moors always gave him back his tan; and it had also occurred to her that the past two weeks had given him an added depth of expression, robbed him of a trifle of that serenity which Circumstance had so persistently fostered.
“There is something I should like to say,” he began, with manifest hesitation. “I shouldn’t like you to go on thinking that I have not appreciated your long and unfailing sacrifice during these three years. I was too happy to analyse, I suppose, and you seemed happy too; but of course I can see now that you were making a deliberate—and noble—attempt—to—to make yourself over, to suppress an individuality of uncommon strength in order to live up to a man’s selfish ideal. Of course when I practically suggested it, I knew what I was talking about, but I was too much of a man to realise what it meant—and I had not lived with you. I can assure you that, great as your success was, I have realised, in this past week, that I had absorbed your real self, that I understood you as no man who had lived with you and loved you as much as I—no man to whom you had been so much, could fail to do. I am expressing myself about as badly as possible, but the idea that you should think me so utterly selfish and unappreciative after all you havegiven up—have given me—has literally tortured me. I don’t wonder you want a fling. Go and have it, but come back to me as soon as you can.”
She made no reply, for she wanted to say many things at once. But it is possible that he read something of it in her eyes—at least she prayed a few hours later that he had—for he caught her hard against him and kissed her many times. Then he hurried on, as if he feared she would think he had spoken as a suppliant.
When she joined him in the corridor the Gearys were waiting for them, and Coralie immediately began to chatter. Her conversation was like a very light champagne, sparkling but not mounting to the brain. Lee felt distinctly bored. She would have liked to dine alone with Cecil and then to spend with him a long evening of mutual explanation and reminiscence, and many intervals. She answered Coralie at random, and in a few moments her mind reverted with a startled leap to the pregnant hours of the afternoon. Could she keep Cecil ignorant of the disgrace which had threatened him? Had Pix gone? Would Emmy hold her counsel? She had forgotten to ask Lord Barnstaple to keep away from her; but such advice was hardly necessary.
“Where on earth did you disappear to this afternoon?” Coralie was demanding. “I hunted over the whole Abbey for you and I got lost and then I tried to talk tothatMiss Pix and she asked me all about divorce in the United States—of all things! I wonder if she’s got a husband tucked away somewhere—those monumental people are often biggerfools than they look. I told her that American divorces were no good in England unless they were obtained on English statutory grounds—we’d known some one who’d tried it. She looked as mad as a hornet, just like her brother for a minute. And he fairly makes me ill, Lee. Just fancyourhaving such people in the house. I must say that the English with all their blood——”
“Oh, do keep quiet!” said Lee impatiently. Then she apologised hurriedly. “I have a good deal to think about just now,” she added.
Coralie was gazing at her with a scarlet face. “Well, I think it’s about time you came back to California,” she said sarcastically. “Your manners need brushing up.”
But Lee only shrugged her shoulders and refused to humble herself further. She was beset with impatience to reach the library and ascertain if Pix had gone.
He was there. And he was standing apart with his sister. His set thick profile was turned to the door. He was talking, and it was evident that his voice was pitched very low.
As the company was passing down the corridor which led to the stair just beyond the dining-room, Lady Barnstaple’s maid came hastily from the wing beyond and asked Lee to take her ladyship’s place at the table.
It seemed to Lee as the dinner progressed that with a few exceptions every one was in a feverish state of excitement. The exceptions were the Pixes, who barely made a remark, Cecil, who seemed asusual and was endeavouring to entertain his neighbour, and Lord Barnstaple, whose brow was very dark. Mary Gifford’s large laugh barely gave its echoes time to finish, and the others certainly talked even louder and faster than usual. Randolph alone was brilliant and easy, and, to Lee, was manifestly doing what he could to divert the attention of his neighbours. Before the women rose it was quite plain that they were really nervous; and that the influence emanated from Pix. His silence alone would have attracted attention, for it was his habit to talk incessantly in order to conceal his real timidity. And he sat staring straight before him, scarcely eating, his heavy features set in an ugly sneer.
“I’m on the verge of hysterics,” said Mary Gifford to Lee as they entered the drawing-room. “That man’s working himself up to something. He’s a coward and his courage takes a lot of screwing, but he’s getting it to the sticking point as fast as he can, and I met him coming out of Emmy’s rooms about an hour before dinner. I ran over to speak to her about something, but I was not admitted. He looked as if they’d been having a terrible row and he was ready to murder some one. I’m in a real funk. But if he’s meditating acoup de théâtrewe can baulk him for to-night at least. It’s a lovely night. Get everybody out-of-doors and then I’ll see that they scatter. I’ll start a romp the moment the men come out.”
“Good. I’ll send up for shawls at once. I’ll tell Coralie to look after Lord Barnstaple; she always amuses him. Then—I’ll dispose of Mr. Pix.”
“Oh, I wish I could be there to see. He’ll sizzle and freeze at once, poor wretch. Well, let’s get them out. I’ll deposit Mrs. Montgomery in the Sèvres room, and tell her to look at the crockery and then go to bed.”
Lee had intended to return with Cecil to the tower and inform him that his bitter draught was to be sweetened for the present, but Pix must be dealt with summarily. If she did not get him out of the house before Lord Barnstaple lost his head there would be consequences which even her resolute temper, born of the exigencies of the hour, refused to contemplate.
The women, pleased with the suggestion of a romp on the moor, strolled, meanwhile, about the lake, looking rather less majestic than the swans, who occasionally stood on their heads as if disdainful of the admiration of mere mortals. When the men entered the drawing-room Lee asked them to go outside immediately, and Coralie placed her hand in Lord Barnstaple’s arm and marched him off.
Lee went down to the crypt with them, then slipped back into the shadows and returned to the drawing-room. Pix had greeted her suggestion with a sneer and a scowl, but it was evident that his plans had been frustrated, and that he was not a man of ready wit. He had sat himself doggedly in a chair, obviously to await the return of Lord Barnstaple and his guests. He sat there alone as Lee re-entered, looking smaller and commoner than usual in the great expanse of the ancient room, with its carven roof that had been blessed and cursed, and the priceless paintings on the panels about him. The Maundrellsof Holbein, and Sir Joshua, and Sir Peter seemed to have raised their eyebrows with supercilious indignation. He was in accord with nothing but the electric lights.
As Lee entered he did not rise, but his scowl and his sneer deepened.
She walked directly up to him, and as he met her eyes he moved slightly. When Lee concentrated all the forces of a strong will in those expressive orbs, the weaker nature they bore upon was liable to an attack of tremulous self-consciousness. She knew the English character; its upper classes had the arrogance of the immortals; millions might bury but could never exterminate the servility of the lower. Let an aristocrat hold a man’s plebeianism hard against his nostrils and the poor wretch would grovel with the overpowering consciousness of it. Lee had determined that nothing short of insolent brutality would dispose of Mr. Pix. And for sheer insolence the true Californian transcends the earth.
“Why haven’t you gone?” she asked as if she were addressing a servant.
Pix too had his arrogance, the arrogance of riches. Although he turned pale, he replied doggedly:
“I’m not ready to go and I don’t go until I am. I don’t know what you mean.” He spoke grammatically, but his accent was as irritating as only the underbred accents of England can be.
“You know what I mean. You saw Lady Barnstaple this afternoon. She told you you must go. We don’t want you here.”
“I’ll stay as long as I——”
“No, my good man, you will not; you will go to-night. I have ordered the carriage for the eleven-ten train to Leeds, where you can stay the night. Your man is packing your box.”
“I won’t go,” he growled, but his chest was heaving.
“Oh yes you will, if you have to be assisted into the carriage by two footmen.”
He pulled himself together, although it was evident that his nerves, subjected to a long and severe strain, were giving way, and that the foundations of his insolence were weakened by the position in which she had placed him. He said quite distinctly:
“And who’s going to feed this crowd?”
“My husband and myself; and I’ll trouble you for your bill.”
“It’s a damned big bill.”
“I think not. I have no concern with what you may have spent elsewhere. I shall ascertain exactly when my mother-in-law’s original income ceased and I know quite as well as you do what is spent here; so be careful you make no mistakes. Now go, my good man, and see that you make no fuss about it.”
The situation would unquestionably have been saved, for the man was confounded and humiliated, but at that moment Lord Barnstaple entered the room.
“My dear child,” he said, “I was a brute to leave this to you. Go out to the others. I will follow in a moment.”
Lee, who was really enjoying herself, wheeled aboutwith a frown. “Do go,” she said emphatically. “Do go.”
“And leave you to be insulted by a cur who doesn’t know enough to stand up in your presence. I am not quite so bad as that.” He turned to Pix, whose face had become very red; even his eyeballs were injected.
“I believe you have been told that you cannot stay here,” he said. “I am sorry to appear rude, but—you must go. There are no explanations necessary, and I should prefer that you did not reply. But I insist upon you leaving the house to-night.”
Pix jumped to his feet with hard fists. “Damn you! Damn you!” he stuttered hysterically, but excitement giving him courage as he went on: “and what’s going to become of you? Where’ll you and all this land that makes such a h—l of a difference between you and me be this time next year? It’ll be mine as it ought to be now! And where’ll you be? Who’ll be paying for your bread and butter? Who’ll be paying your gambling debts? They’ve made a nice item in my expenses, I can tell you! If you’re going to make your wife’s lover pay your debts of honour—as you swells call them—you might at least have the decency to win a little mor’n you do.”
He finished and stood panting.
Lord Barnstaple stood like a stone for a moment, then he caught the man by the collar, jerked him to an open window, and flung him out as if he had been a rat. He was very strong, as are all Englishmen of his class who spend two-thirds of their lives in the open air, and his face was merely a shade paler ashe turned to Lee. But she averted her eyes hastily from his, nevertheless.
“Doubtless that man spoke the truth,” he said calmly, “but she must corroborate it,” and he went towards the stair beyond the drawing-room that led to his wife’s apartments.
Lee ran to the window. Pix was sitting up on the walk holding a handkerchief to his face. No one else was in sight. Presently he got to his feet and limped into the house. Lee went to the door opposite the great staircase and saw him toil past: it was evident that he was quite ready to slink away.
She sat down and put her hand to her eyes. It seemed to her that they must ache forever with what they had caught sight of in Lord Barnstaple’s. In that brief glance she had seen the corpse of a gentleman’s pride.
What would happen! If Emmy lost her courage, or if her better nature, attenuated as it was, conquered her spite, the situation might still be saved. Lord Barnstaple would be only too willing to receive the assurance that the man, insulted to fury, had lied; and, above all, Cecil need never know. There was no doubt that Lord Barnstaple’s deserts were largely of his own invoking, but she set her nails into her palms with a fierce maternal yearning over Cecil. He was blameless, and he was hers. One way or another he should be spared.
She waited for Lord Barnstaple’s return until she could wait no longer. If he were not still with Emmy—and it was not likely that he would prolong the interview—he must have gone to his rooms by theupper corridors. She went rapidly out of the drawing-room and up the stair. She could not be regarded as an intruder and she must know the worst to-night.Whatwould Lord Barnstaple do if Emmy had confessed the truth? She tried to persuade herself that she had not the least idea.