CHAPTER II
Miss Heredith turned her steps towards the house. The guests haddispersed while she was saying farewell to Captain Nepcote, and nothingfurther was expected of her as a hostess until dinner-time. It was herdaily custom to devote a portion of the time between tea and dinner tosuperintending the arrangements for the latter meal. The moat-housepossessed a competent housekeeper and an excellent staff of servants,but Miss Heredith believed in seeing to things herself.
On her way to the house she caught sight of an under gardener clippingone of the ornamental terrace hedges on the south side of the house, andshe crossed over to him. The man suspended his work as the great ladyapproached, and respectfully waited for her to speak.
"Thomas," said Miss Heredith, "go and tell Linton to have both motorsand the carriage at the door by half-past seven this evening. And tellhim, Thomas, that Platt had better drive the carriage."
The under gardener touched his cap and hastened away on his errand. MissHeredith leisurely resumed her walk to the house, stopping occasionallyto pluck up any weed which had the temerity to show its head in the trimflower-beds which dotted the wide expanse of lawn between the moat andthe house. She entered the house through the porch door, and proceededto the housekeeper's apartments.
Her knock at the door was answered by a very pretty girl, tall and dark,who flushed at the sight of Miss Heredith, and stood aside for her toenter. A middle-aged woman, with a careworn face and large grey eyes,dressed in black silk, was seated by the window sewing. She rose andcame forward when she saw her visitor. She was Mrs. Rath, thehousekeeper, and the pretty girl was her daughter.
"How are you, Hazel?" said Miss Heredith, offering her hand to the girl."It is a long time since I saw you. Why have you not been to see uslately?"
The girl appeared embarrassed by the question. She hesitated, and then,as if reassured by Miss Heredith's gracious smile, murmured that she hadbeen so busy that she had very little time to herself.
"I thought they gave you an afternoon off every week at your place ofemployment," pursued Miss Heredith, seating herself in a chair which thehousekeeper placed for her.
"Not always," replied Hazel. "At least, not lately. We have had such alot of orders in."
"Do you like the millinery business, Hazel?"
"Very much indeed, Miss Heredith."
"Hazel is getting on nicely now," said her mother.
"I am very glad to hear it," responded Miss Heredith, in the samegracious manner. "You must come and see us oftener. I take a greatinterest in your welfare, Hazel. Now, Mrs. Rath."
There are faces which attract attention by the expression of the eyes,and the housekeeper's was one of them. Her face was thin, almost meagre,with sunken temples on which her greying hair was braided, but her largeeyes were unnaturally bright, and had a strange look, at once timid andwatchful. She now turned them on Miss Heredith as though she feared arebuke.
"Mrs. Rath," said Miss Heredith, "I hope dinner will be servedpunctually at a quarter to seven this evening, as I arranged. And didyou speak to cook about the poultry? She certainly should get morevariety into her cooking."
"It is rather difficult for her just now, with the food controllerallowing such a small quantity of butcher's meat," observed Mrs. Rath."She really does her best."
"She manages very well on the whole, but she has many resources, such aspoultry and game, which are denied to most households."
When Miss Heredith emerged from the housekeeper's room a little latershe was quite satisfied that the dinner was likely to be as good as anarbitrary food controller would permit, and she ascended to her room todress. In less than half an hour she reappeared, a rustling anddignified figure in black silk. She walked slowly along the passage fromher room, and knocked at Mrs. Heredith's door.
"Come in!" cried a faint feminine voice within.
Miss Heredith opened the door gently, and entered the room. It was aspacious and ancient bedroom, with panelled walls and moulded ceiling.The Jacobean furniture, antique mirrors, and bedstead with silkendrapings were in keeping with the room.
A girl of delicate outline and slender frame was lying on the bed. Shewas wearing a fashionable rest gown of soft silk trimmed with goldembroidery, her fair hair partly covered by a silk boudoir cap. By herside stood a small table, on which were bottles of eau-de-Cologne andlavender water, smelling salts in cut glass and silver, a gold cigarettecase, and an open novel.
The girl sat up as Miss Heredith entered, and put her hands mechanicallyto her hair. Her fingers were loaded with jewels, too numerous for goodtaste, and amongst the masses of rings on her left hand the dull gold ofthe wedding ring gleamed in sober contrast. Her face was pretty, but tooinsignificant to be beautiful. She had large blue eyes under archingdark brows, small, regular features, and a small mouth with a petulantdroop of the under lip. Her face was of the type which instantlyattracts masculine attention. There was the lure of sex in the depths ofthe blue eyes, and provocativeness in the drooping lines of thepetulant, slightly parted lips. There was a suggestion ofmeretriciousness in the tinted lips and the pretence of colour on thecharming face. The close air of the room was drenched with the heavyatmosphere of perfumes, mingled with the pungent smell of cigarettesmoke.
Miss Heredith took a seat by the bedside. The two women formed astriking contrast in types: the strong, rugged, practical country lady,and the fragile feminine devotee of beauty and personal adornment, who,in the course of time, was to succeed the other as the mistress of themoat-house. The difference went far beyond externals; there was a widepsychological gulf between them--the difference between a woman ofhealthy mind and calm, equable temperament, who had probably neverbothered her head about the opposite sex, and a woman who was theneurotic product of a modern, nerve-ridden city; sexual in type, a preyto morbid introspection and restless desires.
The younger woman regarded Miss Heredith with a rather peevish glance ofher large eyes. It was plain from the expression of her face that shedisliked Miss Heredith and resented her intrusion, but it would haveneeded a shrewd observer to have deduced from Miss Heredith's face thather feeling towards her nephew's wife was one of dislike. There wasnothing but constrained politeness in her voice as she spoke.
"How is your head now, Violet? Are you feeling any better?"
"No. My head is perfectly rotten." As she spoke, the girl pushed off herboudoir cap, and smoothed back the thick, fair hair from her forehead,with an impatient gesture, as though she found the weight intolerable.
"I am sorry you are still suffering. Will you be well enough to go tothe Weynes' to-night?"
"I wouldn't dream of it. I wonder you can suggest it. It would only makeme worse."
"Of course I shall explain to Mrs. Weyne. That is, unless you would likeme to stay and sit with you. I do not like you to be left alone."
"There is not the slightest necessity for that," said Mrs. Heredithdecisively. "Do go. I can ring for Lisette to sit with me if I feellonely."
"Perhaps you would like Phil to remain with you?" suggested MissHeredith.
"Oh, no! It would be foolish of him to stay away on my account. I wantyou all to go and enjoy yourselves, and not to fuss about me. At presentI desire nothing so much as to be left alone."
"Very well, then." Miss Heredith rose at this hint. "Shall I send you upsome dinner?"
"No, thank you. The housekeeper has just sent me some strong tea and drytoast. If I feel hungry later on I'll ring. But I shall try and sleepnow."
"Then I will leave you. I have ordered dinner a little earlier thanusual."
"What time is it now?" Violet listlessly looked at her jewelledwrist-watch as she spoke. "A quarter-past six--is that the right time?"
Miss Heredith consulted her own watch, suspended round her neck by along thin chain.
"Yes, that is right."
"What time are you having dinner?"
"A quarter to seven."
"What's the idea of having it earlier?" asked the girl, propping herselfup o
n her pillow with a bare white arm, and looking curiously at MissHeredith.
"I have arranged for us to leave for the Weynes' at half-past seven. Itis a long drive."
"I see." The girl nodded indifferently, as though her curiosity on thesubject had subsided as quickly as it had arisen. "Well, I hope you willall have a good time." She yawned, and let her fair head fall back onthe pillow. "Now I shall try and have a sleep. Please tell Phil not todisturb me. Tell him I've got one of my worst headaches. You are sure tobe back late, and I don't want to be awakened."
She closed her eyes, and Miss Heredith turned to leave the room. As shepassed the dressing-table her eyes fell upon a handsome jewel-case. Asif struck by a sudden thought, she turned back to the bedside again.
"Violet," she said.
The girl half opened her eyes, and looked up at the elder woman fromveiled lids. "Yes?" she murmured.
"Your necklace--I had almost forgotten. Mr. Musard goes back to townearly in the morning, and he wishes to take it with him."
"Oh, it will have to wait until the morning. I don't know where the keysare, and I can't be bothered looking for them now." The girl turned herface determinedly away, and buried her head in the pillow, like a spoiltchild.
Miss Heredith flushed slightly at the deliberate rudeness of the action,but did not press the request. She left the room, softly closing thedoor behind her. She walked slowly along the wide passage, hung withbugle tapestry, and paused for a while at a narrow window at the end ofthe gallery, looking out on the terrace gardens and soft green landscapebeyond. The interview with her nephew's wife had tried her, and herreflections were rather bitter. For the twentieth time she asked herselfwhy her nephew had fallen in love with this unknown girl from London,who loathed the country. From Miss Heredith's point of view, a girl whosmoked and talked slang lacked all sense of the dignity of the highposition to which she had been called, and was in every way unfitted tobecome the mother of the next male Heredith, if, indeed, she consentedto bear an heir at all. It was Miss Heredith's constant regret that Philhad not married some nice girl of the county, in his own station oflife, instead of a London girl.
Miss Heredith terminated her reflections with a sigh, and turned awayfrom the window. She was above all things practical, and fully realizedthe folly of brooding over the inevitable, but the marriage of hernephew was a sore point with her. She proceeded in her stately way downthe broad and shallow steps of the old staircase, hung with armour andtrophies and family portraits. At the bottom of the stairs sheencountered a manservant bearing a tray with sherry decanters andbiscuits across the hall.
"Where is Mr. Philip?" she asked.
"I think he is in the billiard room, ma'am," the man replied.
Miss Heredith proceeded with rustling dignity to the billiard room. Theclick of billiard balls was audible before she reached it. The door wasopen, and inside the room several young men, mostly in khaki, werewatching a game between a dark-haired man of middle age and a youngofficer. One or two of the men looked up as Miss Heredith entered, butthe young officer went on stringing his break together with themechanical skill of a billiard marker. Miss Heredith mentallycharacterized his action as another instance of the modern decay ofmanners. In her young days gentlemen always ceased playing when a ladyentered the billiard room. The middle-aged player came forward, cue inhand, and asked her if she wanted anything.
"I am looking for Phil," she said. "I thought he was here."
"He was, but he has just gone to the library. He said he had someletters to write before dinner."
"Thank you." Miss Heredith turned away and walked to the library which,like the billiard room, was on the ground floor. She opened the door,and stepped into a large room with an interior which belonged to themiddle ages. There was no intrusion of the twentieth-century in thegreat gloomy apartment with its faded arabesques and friezes, bronzecandelabras, mediaeval fittings, and heavy time-worn furniture.
The young man who sat writing at an ancient writing-table in the roomwas not out of harmony with the ancient setting. His face was of antiquetype--long, and narrow, and his long straight dark hair, brushed backfrom his brow, was in curious contrast to the close crop of a militarygeneration of young men. His eyes were dark, and set rather deeplybeneath a narrow high white forehead. He had the Heredith eyebrows andhigh-bridged nose; but, apart from those traditional features of hisline, his rather intellectual face and slight frame had little in commonwith the portraits of the massive war-like Herediths which hung on thewalls around him. He ceased writing and looked up as his aunt entered.
"I have just been to see Violet," Miss Heredith explained. "She says sheis no better, and will not be able to accompany us to the Weynes'to-night. I suggested remaining with her, but she would not hear of it.She says she prefers to be alone. Do you think it is right to leave her?I should like to have your opinion. You understand her best, of course."
"I think if Violet desires to be alone we cannot do better than studyher wishes," replied Phil. "I know she likes to be left quite to herselfwhen she has a nervous headache."
"In that case we will go," responded Miss Heredith. "I have decided tohave dinner a quarter of an hour earlier to enable us to leave here athalf-past seven."
"I see," said the young man. "Is Violet having any dinner?"
"No. She has just had some tea and toast, and now she is trying tosleep. She does not wish to be disturbed--she asked me to tell you so."Miss Heredith glanced at her watch. "Dear me, it is nearly half-pastsix! I must go. Tufnell is _so_ dilatory when quickness is requisite."
"Did you remind Violet about the necklace?" asked Phil, as his auntturned to leave the library.
"Yes. She said she would send it down in the morning, before Vincentleaves."
Phil nodded, and returned to his letters. Miss Heredith left the room,and proceeded along the corridor to the big dining-room. An elderly manservant, grey and clean-shaven, permitted a faint deferential smile toappear on his features as she entered.
"Is everything quite right, Tufnell?" she asked.
Tufnell, the staid old butler, who had inherited his place from hisfather, bowed gravely, and answered decorously:
"Everything is quite right, ma'am."
Miss Heredith walked slowly round the spacious table, adjusting a knifehere, a fork there, and giving an added touch to the table decorations.There was not the slightest necessity for her to do so, because theappointments were as perfect as they could be made by the hands of oldservants who knew their mistress and her ways thoroughly. But it wasMiss Heredith's nightly custom, and Tufnell, standing by the carvedbuffet, watched her with an indulgent smile, as he had done everyevening during the last ten years.
While Miss Heredith was thus engaged, the door opened and Sir PhilipHeredith entered the room in company with an old family friend, VincentMusard.
The Hand in the Dark Page 2