CHAPTER VIII.
SPRETAE INJURIA FORMAE.
Mrs. Oswald Carey rose the following morning before anybody wasstirring. She passed down the staircase noiselessly and opened the frontdoor, when, much to her annoyance, she found herself face to face withMr. Jawkins, who was smoking a matutinal pipe on the front steps.
"Whither away so early, Mrs. Carey?"
Her first impulse was to tell a falsehood, but the keen, clevercountenance of her interrogator convinced her of the futility of such aplan.
"To London," she said, simply; "can I be of service to you there?"
"You know I depend upon you to sing 'My Queen' after the _dejeuner_."
"A matter of imperative importance calls me away. I shall returnto-morrow."
Jawkins looked inexorable, and declared that he could not afford to haveher go. "You are the lodestone of my organization, the influence bywhich the various celebrities I chaperone are harmonized. If it is aquestion of pounds, I mean dollars--this new currency is verypuzzling--dictate your own terms. I have a valuable diamond here whichonce belonged to our sovereign. I shall be happy to make you a presentof it if you will give up your plan." He held up the gem as he spoke.
"What you ask is impossible. There are moments in a woman's life wheneven a diamond seems lustreless as your eyes, Mr. Jawkins, if you willpardon the simile." Her sleepless night had made her wrong burn sogrievously that she could not refrain from sententiousness, even in thepresence of this man whom she despised.
The undertaker scratched his head thoughtfully. "Has the Archbishop ofCanterbury said anything to offend your irreligious scruples?"
"No."
"I trust the prim manners of her Grace have not wounded your feelings.She has old-fashioned notions regarding the sanctity of matrimonialrelations. She does not approve, perhaps, of your appearing in publicwithout your husband," said Mr. Jawkins, with an apologetic smile.
"I have no feelings. You forget I am a woman of the world. Besides I amrevenged for any coldness on the part of the Duchess by her husband'saffability. I got a guinea out of the Duke last evening."
"By what method?" asked the other, with unfeigned admiration.
"He kissed my hand. Perhaps you are now aware, Mr. Jawkins," continuedMrs. Carey, with a captivating swirl of her swan-like neck, "that I haveestablished a personal tariff. My attractions are scheduled. To kiss athumb or any but my little fingers costs two bob. The little fingerscome at half a crown. To roam at will over my whole hand involves theoutlay of a guinea. Am I not ingenious and at the same time reasonablein my terms, Mr. Jawkins? I will squeeze your hand for sixpence." Shelaughed charmingly. Go to London she must and would, but she hoped toaccomplish her purpose by wheedling and to avoid a rupture with themanager.
"Madam," he replied, with polite coldness, "was not my attitude towardyou what may be called fiduciary I should hasten to take advantage ofyour offer. But business is business, and I have made it a rule never toenter into social relations with any of my clients during thecontinuance of a contract. Excuse me for saying, Mrs. Carey, that if youpersist in your design I shall feel obliged to withdraw your back pay."
Pitiful a menace as this may seem to well-to-do people, it affected Mrs.Carey disagreeably. She was dependent upon her engagement with Mr.Jawkins for her means of support. These wages and the royalty shederived from the sale of her photographs were her sole income. She couldnot afford to offend him, and she well knew he would keep his word. Buther desire for revenge would not brook considerations of policy. Ratherthan abandon her plan she was resolved to break with him.
Such was the outcome of her reflections during the moment that she stoodsmiling at his threat before she made a reply. She looked at him in afashion that would have melted the iron mood of any man but Jawkins. Hehad seen beauty world-wide in its most entrancing forms, and believedhimself proof against feminine wiles.
"Is there no alternative?" she asked, beseechingly.
"Mrs. Carey, I will be frank with you. I suspect you of an intention ofgoing to America for the purpose of carrying on an intrigue with thelate King, one of whose cipher letters to you has chanced to come intomy possession. To have you arrested would be very disagreeable to me,and I trust you will not force me to take that step."
Mrs. Carey's surprise was so great that she almost betrayed herself.This suspicion of his would be an admirable cloak for her real designcould she only succeed in representing it to Mr. Jawkins in such a lightthat he would suffer her to go to London. Some months previous she hadprojected a journey to America, and letters had passed between her andthe King, but the scheme had been laid aside as impracticable, as shehad discovered that the royal family were in reduced circumstances. Itwas now well known in London that the King's banker kept him very short.
"Well," she said, with simulated distress, "you have pried into mysecret, Mr. Jawkins. I have never injured you. What motive have you instanding between me and fortune? Why should you begrudge me the _eclat_of wearing the coronet of England's Queen?"
"I will be frank with you again, Mrs. Carey. I have rivals in Americawho would snap you up in the twinkling of an eye. A royal crown upon thebrow of a professional beauty has not its equal on the globe as a greatmoral exhibition."
"But I would give you the contract," she said.
The manager shrugged his shoulders.
"Is my word of honor of no avail?" she asked.
"I once lost L100,000 on a similar insecurity, Mrs. Carey."
"You wish to ruin my prospects in life, Mr. Jawkins."
"I am obliged to consider my own."
"You are rich and prosperous already. I have nothing but my personalattractions, as you well know, and you seek to rob me of the prize whenjust within my grasp."
"You are unjust, madam." He shuffled his feet uneasily. It was againsthis grain as a man to see this peerless beauty in trouble and refuse herpetition. Her arms apparent in all their white perfection of roundness,her exquisitely poised head and lovely face expressed the poignancy ofdismay.
"Is there no security that you will accept, Mr. Jawkins?"
Jarley Jawkins looked at her, and felt the blood surge in his veins.Mrs. Carey had always exercised a powerful charm over him. He regardedher as the most beautiful woman of his acquaintance. Ordinarily thethought of suggesting anything compromising would not have occurred tohim, but her marvellous beauty presenting itself in the same scale withher necessity, blinded him to prudence and every other consideration butpassion. It was a contest between the cunning of a luscious beautystriving for a secret end and the self-interest of a mercenary man. Thevictory was hers, though scarcely by the means she had expected.
"Yes, Mrs. Carey, there is one." He leered at her a little.
"And that?"
"Yourself." He spoke distinctly and resolutely, for he was a man whofaltered at nothing when his mind was made up, but she could see himtremble.
His speech was so astounding that she could scarcely believe that sheheard him aright. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks in testimony tothe audacity of the insult. Coming from this man such an avowal inspiredher with rage and disgust. He, the society costermonger, sighing at herfeet! Bah! It seemed too degrading to be true. It could not be true. Andyet there he was and a response was necessary. A politic response, too,or all was lost. If she rejected him he would have her arrested. Hermind was made up.
"I know," he continued, as she did not speak, "that my proposition seemsat first distasteful, but there is much to be said in its favor."
"Yes?" she queried, looking at the ground.
"I love you. If we fly to America, what is there to prevent our success?We are both clever. I am rich, and you are the most beautiful woman inthe world."
"Your offer is so abrupt that I do not know what to answer. Give metime, Mr. Jawkins."
"No, no; now, at once. The steamer sails day after to-morrow," heuttered hoarsely, and he seized her hand and kissed it with passion.
"A guinea," she cried banteringly,
and she looked into his face with herbeautiful violet eyes, as she had into many another whose love, thoughnobly born, had been no less scorned in the days gone by.
"Guineas for such as you! You shall have millions. And you will go?"
"Yes," she whispered, "I will go."
He sought to embrace her, but she eluded his grasp. "Not yet--not yet.You must wait." So great was her disgust that she feared lest she shouldbreak out in rage and denounce him. Following after her scene withGeoffrey the very intensity of his passion wrought disagreeably upon hernerves. She felt the irony of fate. Yet the reflection steeled herpurpose and gave her strength to smile and seem to accept his advances.
She placed her hand, glistening with rings, upon his sleeve. "I willmeet you in town to-morrow, anywhere you select."
"No, you must not leave me now."
"It is absolutely necessary. I have my things to get ready."
"My servants will supply all that you need."
"Ah, you do not understand women's needs," she murmured, coquettishly,and she turned to get into the phaeton, which just then had driven up tothe door. It had been ordered for Jawkins's morning airing, but itsuited her convenience admirably.
He made a movement to follow her, but she turned and spoke to him inFrench. "Do you not understand that caution is necessary? We must not beseen together. I will meet you at noon to-morrow in South KensingtonGardens. Adieu." She smiled upon him, and her glance had all thesweetness of that which Vivien bent on Merlin. "To the station!" shesaid to the coachman.
It took her some time to collect her thoughts and realize the situation.The effrontery of Jawkins seemed so daring that she almost laughedaloud. She had escaped from his clutches for a moment, but it was only arespite, a breathing spell which would soon be over. It would benecessary to provide for the morrow. But that reflection disturbed herlittle. She was free to pursue the object of her journey and satisfy thedesire for revenge which filled her heart. As the train whirled towardLondon she whetted the stiletto of vengeance upon the grindstone of herwounded feelings. That paper exhibited by Dacre would furnish the neededproof of conspiracy, and then good-by, Lord Brompton, to your cherishedschemes for fortune. It made her wince to think that she had beendiscarded for an awkward hoyden of a girl, her equal in no particular.So she stigmatized her rival, as she chose to consider Maggie Windsor."He loved me in the days of my green maidenhood," she said to herself,"but now that I am become the most beautiful woman in England hedisdains me." Even Jawkins had spoken of her as the most beautiful womanin the world.
The thought of Jawkins recalled the incident of the morning, which, inthe bitterness of her mood, she had forgotten. Somehow or other the ideaof quitting the country in his company seemed less repulsive to her thanat first. He was rich, and she would no longer be obliged to supportherself by a degrading occupation. After the first buzz of scandal andexcitement at her elopement the world would cease to prattle, or if itdid she would be in America and safe from its strictures. The King wastoo poor in friends to refuse her recognition at his court. And, afterall, there need be no scandal. She would go to America in the role of aprofessional beauty and Jawkins should be her manager. She would keephim at a respectful distance and squeeze money out of him by dint ofpromises. Once in America she would seek to fascinate the King. She wasweary of England. She had exhausted its resources, and it would beamusing to visit the great ideal Republic, of whose magnificentprosperity she had read until her mouth watered. Yes, let this matter ofa conspiracy be set at rest and Geoffrey lodged in prison, and she wouldgo. Her glorious eyes sparkled with interest. She would have done withthe platitudes and dreariness of private life. A grand career loomed upbefore her across the ocean, where men lavished millions at the dictateof imagination and put no limit upon enthusiasm. A fig for the dream ofan absorbing love, such as for an hour yesterday had flitted through herbrain. She would trample on its ashes after she had sated her vengeance.
In this mood she reached London. She took a four-wheel cab and told theman to drive her to Buckingham Palace. Shrouding her features she sankback from observation. Had she not preferred to screen her face she wasfree to enjoy the emotions of a celebrity. Her photograph was in theshop-window of every picture-dealer in town. Her sympathy with theRoyalists had, it is true, lessened her popularity for a time, butsupreme beauty is the one attribute which disarms prejudice and convertsill-will.
London at this period, like the rest of England, showed marks of theunhappy condition of its affairs. The thoroughfares, parks and publicbuildings looked dirty and uncared for. An atmosphere of gloom overhungMayfair like a pall, as though the very fog had taken advantage of thesituation and was clamoring for spoils. It was, in truth, a system ofspoils that had been inaugurated in this former stronghold ofconstitutional liberty. The present government gave every facility tothose who advocated popular principles with the aim of feathering theirown nests. Under the influence of the social craze all that tended topromote external beauty of architecture or equipment wasdiscountenanced, and a sodden rule of ignorant craft and vulgarity wassettled upon the nation. Those at the helm were clever demagogues whowere prepared to humor the people, provided they had the control of thepublic funds wherewith to indulge their licentious tastes. PresidentBagshaw had converted Buckingham Palace into a barracks, where he satday in, day out, with boon companions. Entrance was forbidden to none.The dirtiest scavenger might there at any moment shake the hand of thepeople's chief representative.
Mrs. Carey alighted, and found herself exposed to the gaze of a group ofrough, groggy-looking individuals who were hanging about the entrance tothe once famous palace. All the way down Regent Street she had peepedout from the cab windows, hoping to catch sight of familiar faces orfascinating wares in the shopping paradise of the late nobility; but,though the stores still stood, few passers were to be seen, and thefilthy, smoky aspect of the sidewalks told that anarchy was rampant evenhere. Revolution is silent in England. The people uprising in theirmight do not overturn monuments and lop the limbs from statues. They letthe dust and the smoke and the fog do the work for them. Only one facewas recognized by Mrs. Carey as the vehicle rumbled down to itsdestination. She caught sight of her husband leaning out of one of thewindows of Fenton's Hotel smoking a pipe. The once famous hostelry hadbecome a haunt for pothouse politicians. A sudden impulse of generosityseized her. "I will invite Oswald to dinner with me to-night," thoughtshe.
As she walked into the palace the men made way for her in silence. Theyremoved the pipes from their mouths and stared in mingled bewildermentand admiration. Despite her veil she was too striking looking not tofetter the attention of even the most listless, for the disgust withwhich these surroundings inspired her and the tenacity of her crueldesign gave her a bearing such as Clytemnestra might have envied. Shestalked through the corridor and up the stairs, disregarding the gildedhand and tin sign which read, "To the President's Room. Second Story.Take the Elevator." The idlers in the lobby had recognized her, and awhisper spread until it swelled into a buzz outside that she was theprofessional beauty.
"Can I see the President?" she asked of a policeman who alone guardedthe door of the chief magistrate.
"Name, please," said the functionary, who still clung to this relic ofthe formality of the past.
"Say a lady," she said, haughtily, and the man, impressed by her mien,threw open the door.
Mrs. Carey found herself in the presence of a large, heavily built man,with a bald head and long, coal-black beard, who was sitting at a desk.He was smoking, and the spacious but bare room was thick with tobaccosmoke. A table, on which were empty bottles and the remains of a lunch,stood in one corner. Several men, who also had cigars in their mouths,were sprawling on an enamel cloth lounge in the bay-window whichcommanded the street. At her entrance these latter arose, and, at aglance from their chief at the desk, shambled out of the room by a sidedoor, casting, however, over their shoulders glances of curiosity andsurprise. She waited until they had closed the door, then lifted h
erveil.
President Bagshaw rose and made a bow, which was an unusual act ofhomage on his part, for he was a woman-hater as well as an atheist. Heeven removed the cigar from his mouth.
"What can I do for you, madam?" he asked.
"I have important information for the government." She paused aninstant. "Are we quite alone?"
The President went to the side door, and carefully bolted it. Then heresumed his seat, and, resting his ponderous, seamy jaw upon the flat ofhis hand, waited for her to begin. He was used to all sorts of devicesas a prelude to requests for office or emolument, and his expressionbetokened little interest or expectation. Had not the serious characterof the communication she was about to make rendered coquetry at themoment distasteful to Mrs. Carey, she would assuredly have been temptedto tamper with the indifference of this matter-of-fact personage, whoeven already had recovered from the trifling shock to his principleswhich her entrance had caused.
"I have proofs," said she in a low tone, "of a serious conspiracy amongthe Royalists."
His countenance changed a little, and a contracted brow of a businessman became noticeable. "In what part of the Republic?" he asked.
"It is a widely concerted plot in which all the leading Royalists in thecountry are engaged. The King himself is privy to the affair. Theoutbreak is to occur at Aldershot on the 24th of November. Many of thetroops have been suborned."
"Who are the leaders of this conspiracy?"
"The prime movers are Sir John Dacre and Lord Brompton. It was at thelatter's house that I learned the particulars of the affair."
Clytemnestra never plied the sword more ruthlessly than this jealouswoman doomed to destruction the man who had spurned her love.
The President was silent a moment. "Have you proofs of what you tellme?"
She took from her muff Colonel Arundel's letter and handed it to him."You will find there, sir, a list of the leading rebels and the armyofficers implicated."
He scanned it eagerly. "H'm; yes, this speaks for itself. And what," hecontinued presently, with a politician's quick sense, "can I do for youin return?" The idea of being loyal for nothing would never haveoccurred to President Bagshaw.
"The time may come when I shall ask a favor of the government, but notto-day," said Mrs. Carey. "My only request is that my name shall not bementioned in the matter. Is that agreed upon?"
"Certainly, if you desire it. But, madam," continued the demagogue, "thepeople are grateful to you for the service you have done them."
"You had better ascertain first, Mr. President, that my information isauthentic," she said, rising and drawing about her comely shoulders thefolds of her cloak, as though to silence the conflicting forces of loveand vengeance working in her soul.
The great man opened the door for her himself. She bent him a stately,solemn courtesy, and covering her face passed slowly down the stairs.
A telegraph company had an office in the basement of the palace. Hereshe wrote a message to Jarley Jawkins, which was worded:
"Must postpone journey three weeks. Leave me alone until then. C."
When she had dispatched this she bade the driver stop at Fenton's, whereshe picked up her husband and took him to Greenwich for a quiet fishdinner. Oswald asked her, in the course of the meal, what business shehad at Buckingham Palace.
"I was trying to have you reappointed to your old place in the Stamp andSealing-wax Office, and I expect to succeed," was her reply.
The King's Men: A Tale of To-morrow Page 8