CHAPTER XX
DURING the following week Lee was not so absorbed in her friends that she would have been oblivious to a certain discomposure of the Abbey’s atmosphere, even had Mary Gifford not called her attention to it. Some of the guests had given place to others, but the Pixes, Lady Mary, and the Californians still remained. Of course they were all scattered during the day, but the evenings were spent in the great drawing-room and adjoining boudoirs and billiard-room, and it was obvious to the most indifferent that there was a discord in the usual harmony of the Abbey at this season. Lady Barnstaple’s temper had never been more uncertain, but no one minded that: Emmy was always sure to be amusing, whether deliberately or otherwise; that was her rôle. Nor was any one particularly disturbed by the increased acidity of Lord Barnstaple’s remarks; for when a man is clever he must be given his head, as Captain Monmouth had remarked shortly before he left; “and some pills are really cannon balls,” he had added darkly.
Mr. Pix was the disturbing element. He had managed to keep an effective shade over the light of his commonness in London, for he did not go out too much and was oftener in Paris. Moreover, Victoria, who was painfully irreproachable, hadprovided a sort of family reputation on which he travelled. But in the fierce and unremitting light of a house-party he revealed himself, and it was evident that he was aware of the fact; his assumption of ease and of the manner to which his fellow-guests were born grew more defiant daily, and there were times when his brow was dark and heavy. Everybody wondered why he did not leave. He handled his gun clumsily, and with manifest distaste, and it was plain that he had not so much as the seedling of the passion for sport. Nevertheless he stuck to it, and asserted that he longed for October that he might distinguish himself in the covers.
If the man had succeeded in giving himself an acceptable veneer, or if he had had the wit to make himself useful financially to the men with whom he aspired to associate, he would have gone down as others of his gilded ilk had gone down; but, as it was, every man in the Abbey longed to kick him, and they snubbed him as pointedly as in common courtesy to their host they could.
“I am actually uneasy,” said Lady Mary to Lee one evening as they stood apart for a moment in the drawing-room. The guests looked unconcerned enough. They were talking and laughing, some pretending to fight for their favourite tables; while in the billiard-room across the hall a half-dozen of the younger married women were romping about the table, shrieking their laughter. But Victoria Pix, looking less like a marble than usual, stood alone in a doorway intently regarding her brother, who was also conspicuously alone. And although Emmy wasflitting about as usual, there was an angry light in her eyes and an ugly compression of her lips.
“I wish it were the last of September,” replied Lee.
“So do I—or that we were in California. I feel as if some one had a lighted fuse in his hand and was hunting for dynamite. It’s really terrible to think what might happen if that man lost his temper and opened his mouth.”
“I don’t want to think of it. And where there are so many people nothing is really likely to happen; there are so many small diversions.”
But she broached the subject to Cecil as they were walking along the corridors to their tower some hours later. Apparently they were the best of friends again, for Cecil was not the man to do anything by halves. He had not even returned to the subject; and if he were still wounded and unquiet he gave no sign.
“I wish that horrid Mr. Pix would go,” said Lee tentatively. “He’s so out of it, I wonder he doesn’t.”
“I can’t imagine what he came for. I never saw a man look such an ass on the moors.”
“He must get on your father’s nerves.”
“I fancy he does. I suppose Emmy asked him here. She could hardly avoid it, she’s so intimate with Miss Pix. By the way, that woman actually talked at dinner to-night; you may not have noticed, but I had her on my left; I suppose I’m in Emmy’s bad graces for some reason or other. But she really seemed bent on making herself entertaining. Shehas something in her head, I fancy. If less of it were snobbery she wouldn’t be half bad.”
“Fancy what you escaped. If you had never come to America they might have married you to the Pixes.”
“The person has yet to be born who could do my marrying for me,” said Cecil; and there was no doubt that he knew himself.