by Elinor Glyn
XXI
Lord Bracondale arrived at his sister's house in Charles Street about aquarter of an hour before her luncheon guests were due.
Anne rushed down to see him, meeting her husband on the stairs.
"Oh, don't come in yet, Billy, like a darling," she said, "I want totalk to Hector alone."
And the meek and fond Lord Anningford had obediently retired to hissmoking-room.
"Well, Hector," she said, when she had greeted him, "and so you aregoing to the Fitzgeralds' for Whitsuntide, and not to Bracondale, mothertells me this morning. She is in the seventh heaven, taking it for asign, as you had to manoeuvre so to be asked, that things are comingto a climax between you and Morella."
"Morella? Is she going?" said Hector, absently. He had quite forgottenthat fact, so perfectly indifferent was he to her movements, and socompletely had his own aims engrossed him.
"Why--dear boy!" Anne gasped. The whole scene, highly colored byrepetition, had been recounted to her. How Morella had told him of herplans, and how he had at once got introduced to Lady Ada, and played hiscards so skilfully that the end of the evening produced the invitation.
"Oh yes, of course, I remember she is going," he said, impatiently."Anne, you haven't asked that beast Wensleydown to-day, have you?"
"No, dear. What made you think so?"
"I saw you talking to him in the park this morning, and I feared youmight have. I shall certainly quarrel with him one of these days."
"You will have an opportunity, then, at Beechleigh, as he will be there.He is always with the Fitzgeralds," Anne said, and she tried to laugh."But don't make a scandal, Hector."
She saw his eyes blaze.
"He is going there, is he?" he said, and then he stared out of thewindow.
Anne knew nothing of the relationship between Theodora and Sir Patrick.She never for a moment imagined the humble Browns would be invited tothis exceptionally smart party. And yet she was uneasy. Why was Hectorgoing? What plan was in his head? Not Morella, evidently. But she hadnever believed that would be his attraction.
And Hector was too preoccupied to enlighten her.
"Is mother coming to lunch?" he asked.
"Yes, by her own request. I had not meant to ask her--Oh, well, youknow, she is never very pleased at your having new friends, and Ithought she might fix Mrs. Brown with that stony stare she hassometimes, and we would be happier without her; but she was determinedto come."
"It is just as well," he said, "because she will have to get accustomedto it. I shall ask my friends the Browns down to Bracondale on everyoccasion, and as she is hostess there the stony stare won't answer."
"Manage her as best you may," said Anne. "But you know how she can benow and then--perfectly annihilating to unfortunate strangers."
Hector's finely chiselled lips shut like a vise.
"We shall see," he said. "And who else have you got? None of theHarrowfield-Devlyn crew, I hope--"
"Hector, how strange you are! I thought you and Lady Harrowfield werethe greatest friends, so of course I asked her. No one in London canmake a woman's success as she can."
"Or mar it so completely if she takes a dislike! Have you ever heard ofher doing a kindness to any one? I haven't!" he said, irritably.
Then he walked to the window and back quickly.
"I tell you I am sick of it all, Anne. Last night, whoever I spoke tohad something vile to impute or insinuate about every one theymentioned; and Lady Harrowfield, with a record of her own worse than thelowest, rode a high horse of virtue, and was more spiteful than all therest put together. I loathe them, the whole crew. What do they know ofanything good or pure or fine? Painted Jezebels, the lot of them!"
"Hector!" almost screamed Lady Anningford. "What has come over you, mydear boy?"
"I will tell you," he said; and his voice, which had been full ofpassion, now melted into a tone of deep tenderness. "I love a womanwhose pure goodness has taught me there are other possibilities in lifebeyond the aims of these vile harpies of our world--a woman whose verypresence makes one long to be better and nobler, whose dear soul hasnot room for anything but kind and loving thoughts of sweetness andlight. Oh, Anne, if I might have her for my own, and live away down atBracondale far from all this, I think--I think I, too, could learn whatheaven would mean on earth."
"Dear Hector!" said Anne, who was greatly moved. "Oh, I am so sorry foryou! But what is to be done? She is married to somebody else, and youwill only injure her and yourself if you see too much of her."
"I know," he said. "I realize it sometimes--this morning, forinstance--and then--and then--"
He did not add that the thought of Lord Wensleydown and the restswarming round Theodora drove him mad, deprived him of his power ofreasoning, and filled him with a wild desire to protect her, to be nearher, to keep her always for himself, always in his sight.
"Anne," he said, at last, "promise me you will go out of your way to bekind to her. Don't let these other odious women put pin-points into her,because she is so innocent, and all unused to this society. She is justmy queen and my darling. Will you remember that?"
And as Anne looked she saw there were two great tears in his eyes--hisdeep-gray eyes which always wore a smile of whimsical mockery--and shefelt a lump in her throat.
This dear, dear brother! And she could do nothing to comfort him--oneway or another.
"Hector, I will promise--always," she said, and her voice trembled. "Iam sure she is sweet and good; and she is so lovely and fascinating--andoh, I wish--I wish--too!"
Then he bent down and kissed her, just as his mother and LadyHarrowfield came into the room.
Anne felt glad she had not informed them they were to meet the Browns,as was her first intention. She seemed suddenly to see with Hector'seyes, and to realize how narrow and spiteful Lady Harrowfield could be.
Most of the guests arrived one after the other, and were talking aboutthe intimate things they all knew, when "Mr. and Mrs. Brown" wereannounced, and the whole party turned to look at them, while LadyHarrowfield tittered, and whispered almost audibly to her neighbor:
"These are the creatures Florence insisted upon my giving an invitationto last night. I did it for her sake, of course, so wretchedly poor sheis, dear Florence, and she hopes to make a good thing out of them. Lookat the man!" she added. "Has one ever sees such a person, except in apork-butcher's shop!"
"I have never been in one," said Hector, agreeably, a dangerous flash inhis eyes; "but I hear things are too wonderfully managed at HarrowfieldHouse--though I had no idea you did the shopping yourself, dear LadyHarrowfield."
She looked up at him, rage in her heart. Hector had long been a hopelesspassion of hers--so good-looking, so whimsical, and, above all, soindifferent! She had never been able to dominate and ride rough-shodever him. When she was rude and spiteful he answered her back, and thenneglected her for the rest of the evening.
But why should he defend these people, whom, probably, he did not evenknow?
She would watch and see.
Then they went in to luncheon, without waiting for two or three strayyoung men who were always late.
And Theodora found herself sitting between the Crow and a sleek-lookingpolitician; while poor Josiah, extremely ill at ease, sat at the lefthand of his hostess.
Anne had purposely not put Hector near Theodora; with her mother thereshe thought it was wiser not to run any risks.
Lady Bracondale was sufficiently soothed by her happy dream of the causeof Hector's visit to Beechleigh to be coldly polite to Theodora, whomAnne had presented to her before luncheon. She sat at the turn of thelong, oval table just one off, and was consequently able to observe hervery carefully.
"She is extremely pretty and looks well bred--quite too extraordinary,"she said to herself, in a running commentary. "Grandfather a convict, nodoubt. She reminds me of poor Minnie Borringdon, who ran off with thatcharming scapegrace brother of Patrick Fitzgerald. I wonder what becameof them?"
Lady Bracondale d
eplored the ways of many of the set she was obliged tomove in--Delicia Harrowfield, for instance. But what was one to do? Onemust know one's old friends, especially those to whom one had been abridesmaid!
The Crow, who had begun by being determined to find Theodora as cunningas other angels he was acquainted with, before the second course hadfallen completely under her spell.
No one to look into her tender eyes could form an adverse opinion abouther; and her gentle voice, which only said kind things, was pleasing tothe ear.
"'Pon my soul, Hector is not such a fool as I thought," Colonel Lowerbysaid to himself. "This seems a bit of pure gold--poor little white lady!What will be the end of her?"
And opposite, Hector, with great caution, devoured her with his eyes.
Theodora herself was quite happy, though her delicate intuition told herLady Harrowfield was antagonistic to her, and Hector's motherexceedingly stiff, while most of the other women eyed her clothes andtalked over her head. But they all seemed of very little consequence toher, somehow.
She was like the sun, who continues to shine and give warmth and lightno matter how much ugly imps may look up and make faces at him.
Theodora was never ill at ease. It would grieve her sensitive heart tothe core if those she loved made the faintest shade of difference intheir treatment of her--but strangers! They counted not at all, she hadtoo little vanity.
Both her neighbors, the young politician and the Crow, were completelyfascinated by her. She had not the slightest accent in speakingEnglish, but now and then her phrasing had a quaint turn which wasoriginal and attractive.
Anne was not enjoying her luncheon-party. The impression of sorrow andcalamity which the conversation with her brother had left upon herdeepened rather than wore off.
Josiah's commonplace and sometimes impossible remarks perhaps helped it.
She seemed to realize how it must all jar on Hector. To know his lovedone belonged to this worthy grocer--to understand the hopelessness ofthe position!
Anne was proud of her family and her old name. It was grief, too, tothink that after Hector the title would go to Evermond Le Mesurier, theunmarried and dissolute uncle, if he survived his nephew, and then woulddie out altogether. There would be no more Baron Bracondales ofBracondale, unless Hector chose to marry and have sons. Oh, life was atopsy-turvy affair at the best of times, she sighed to herself.
Just before the ladies left the table, Josiah had announced theirintended visit to Beechleigh, and his wife's relationship to Sir PatrickFitzgerald and the old Earl Borringdon.
It came as a thunderclap to Lady Anningford. This accounted forHector's eagerness to obtain the invitation--accounted for Theodora'sexceeding look of breeding--accounted for many things.
She only trusted her mother had not heard the news also. So much betterto leave her in her fool's paradise about Morella.
If Lady Harrowfield knew, she said nothing about it. She absolutelyignored Theodora, as though she had never shaken hands with her in herown house the night before. Theodora wondered at her manners--she didnot yet know Mayfair.
The conversation turned upon some of the wonderful charities they wereall interested in, and Theodora thought how good and kind of them tohelp the poor and crippled. And she said some gentle, sympathetic thingsto a lady who was near her. And Anne thought to herself how sweet andbeautiful her nature must be, and it made her sadder and sadder.
Presently they all began to discuss the ball at Harrowfield House. Ithad been too lovely, they said, and Lady Harrowfield joined in with oneof her sharp thrusts.
"Of course it could not be just as one would have wished. I was obligedto ask all sorts of people I had never even heard of," she said. "Theusual grabbing for invitations, you know, to see the Royalties. Really,the quaint creatures who came up the stairs! I almost laughed in theirfaces once or twice."
"But don't you like to feel what pleasure you gave them, the poorthings?" Theodora said, quite simply, without the least sarcasm. "Yousee, I know you gave them pleasure, because my husband and I were someof them--and we enjoyed it, oh, so much!"
And she smiled one of her adorable smiles which melted the heart ofevery one else in the room. But of Lady Harrowfield she made an enemyfor life. The venomous woman reddened violently--under her paint--whileshe looked this upstart through and through. But Theodora was quiteunconscious of her anger. To her Lady Harrowfield seemed a poor, souredold woman very much painted and ridiculous, and she felt sorry forunlovely old age and ill-temper.
Meanwhile, Lady Bracondale was being favorably impressed. She was a mostpresentable young person, this wife of the Australian millionaire, shedecided.
Anne took the greatest pains to be charming to Theodora. They weresitting together on a sofa when the men came into the room.
Hector could keep away no longer. He joined them in their corner, whilehis face beamed with joy to see the two people he loved best in theworld apparently getting on so well together.
"What have you been talking about?" he asked.
"Nothing very learned," said Anne. "Only the children. I was tellingMrs. Brown how Fordy's pony ran away in the park this morning, and howplucky he had been about it."
"They are rather nice infants," said Hector. "I should like you to seethem," and he looked at Theodora. "Mayn't we have them down, Anne?"
Lady Anningford adored her offspring, and was only too pleased to showthem; but she said:
"Oh, wait a moment, Hector, until some of these people have gone. LadyHarrowfield hates children, and Fordy made some terrible remarks abouther wig last time."
"I wish he would do it again," said Hector. "She took the skin off everyone the whole way through lunch."
"But Colonel Lowerby told me she was one of the cleverest women inLondon!" exclaimed Theodora; "and surely it is not very clever just tobe bitter and spiteful!"
"Yes, she is clever," said Anne, with a peculiar smile, "and we are allrather under her thumb."
"It is perfectly ridiculous how you pander to her!" Hector said,impatiently. "I should never allow my wife to have anything but adistant acquaintance with her if I were married," and he glanced atTheodora.
Lady Anningford's duties as hostess took her away from them then, and hesat down on the sofa in her place.
"Oh, how I hate all this!" he said. "How different it is to Paris! Itgrates and jars and brings out the worst in one. These odious women andtheir little, narrow ways! You will never stay much in London--will you,Theodora?"
"I have always to do what Josiah wishes, you know; he rather likes it,and means us to come back after Whitsuntide, I think."
Hector seemed to have lost the power of looking ahead. Whitsuntide, andto be with her in the country for that time, appeared to him theboundary of his outlook.
What would happen after Whitsuntide? Who could say?
He longed to tell her how his thoughts were forever going back to theday at Versailles, and the peace and beauty of those woods--how allseemed here as though something were dragging him down to thecommonplace, away out of their exalted dream, to a dull earth. But hedared not--he must keep to subjects less moving. So there was silencefor some moments.
Theodora, since coming to London, had begun to understand it waspossible for beautiful Englishmen to be husbands now and then, and thatthe term is not necessarily synonymous with "bore" and "duty"--as shehad always thought it from her meagre experience.
She could not help picturing what a position of exquisite happiness somenice girl might have--some day--as Hector's wife. And she looked out ofthe window, and her eyes were sad. While the vision which floated to himat the same moment was of her at his side at Bracondale, and thedelicious joy of possessing for their own some gay and merry babies likeFordy and his little brother and sister. And each saw a wistful longingin the other's eyes, and they talked quickly of banal things.