CHAPTER IV
On the following day Miss Van Tuyn, remembering her feeling at Camber inthe twilight, went to the telephone and called up Number 18A, BerkeleySquare. The solemn voice of a butler--she knew at once a butler wasspeaking--replied inquiring her business. She gave her name and askedwhether Lady Sellingworth had returned to London. The answer was thather ladyship had arrived in London from the Continent on Saturdayevening.
"Please tell her ladyship that her friend, Miss Van Tuyn, will call onher this afternoon about five o'clock," said Miss Van Tuyn.
Soon afterwards she put on her hat and fur coat and set off on her wayto Chelsea.
A little before five she turned into Berkeley Square on foot, comingfrom Carlos Place.
She felt both curious and slightly hostile. She wondered very much whyAdela had gone away so mysteriously; she wondered where Adela had beenand whether she had returned changed. When Miss Van Tuyn had alluded tothe sheaves the thought in her mind had been markedly feminine. It hadoccurred to her that Adela might have stolen away to have "things" doneto her; that she might come back to London mysteriously rejuvenated.Such a thing was possible even at sixty. Miss Van Tuyn had known ofwaning beauties who had vanished, and who had returned to the worldlooking alarmingly young. Certainly she had never known of a woman asold in appearance as Adela becoming transformed. Nevertheless in moderndays, when the culture of beauty counts in its service such marvellousexperts, almost all things are possible. If Adela had gone quite madabout Alick Craven the golden age might be found suddenly domiciledin Number 18A. Then Adela's intention would be plain. She would havereturned from abroad armed _cap-a-pie_ for conquest.
The knowledge that Adela was in London had revived in Miss Van Tuyn thecreeping hostility which she had felt before her friend's departure. Sheremembered her lonely walk to Soho, what she had seen through the lit-upwindow of the _Bella Napoli_. The sensation of ill treatment returned toher. She would have scorned to acknowledge even to herself that she wasafraid of Adela, that she dreaded Adela's influence on a man. But whenshe thought of Craven she was conscious of a strange fluttering ofanxiety. She wanted to keep Craven as a friend. She wanted him to be herspecial friend. This he had been, but only since Lady Sellingworth hadbeen out of London. Now she had come back. Over there shone the lightabove the door of the house in which she was at this moment. How wouldit be now?
A hard, resolute look came into Miss Van Tuyn's face as she walked pastthe block of flats at the top of the square. She had a definite andstrong feeling that she must keep Craven as her friend, that she mightneed him in the future. And of what use is a man who belongs to anotherwoman?
Arabian had told her that day that he had found a flat which suited himin Chelsea looking over the river, and that he was leaving the CharingCross Hotel. For some reason the news had startled her. He had spoken ina casual way, but his eyes had not been casual as they looked into hers.And she had felt that Arabian had taken a step forward, that he wasmoving towards some project with which she was connected in his mind,and that the taking of this flat was part of the project.
She must not lose Craven as a friend. If she did she would lose oneon whom she was beginning to rely. Women are of no use in certaincontingencies, and a beautiful woman can seldom thoroughly trust anotherwoman. Miss Van Tuyn absolutely trusted no woman. But she trustedCraven. She thought she must be very fond of him. And yet she hadnone of the feeling for him which persecuted her now when she was withArabian. Arabian drew her in an almost occult way. She felt his tug likethe mysterious tug of water when one stands near a weir in a river. Whenshe was with him she sometimes had a physical impulse to lean backward.And that came because of another strong and opposing impulse whichseemed mental.
Adela should not entice Craven back to her. She was long past the ageof needing trusty comrades and possible helpers, in Beryl's opinion.Whatever she did, or hoped, or wanted, or strove for, life was reallyover for her, the life that is life, with its unsuspected turns, andintrigues, and passions and startling occurrences. Even if for a timesuch a man as Craven were hypnotized by a woman's strong will-power,such an unnatural condition could not possibly last. But Beryl madeup her mind that she would not suffer even a short interim of powerexercised by Adela. Even for poor Adela's own sake such an interim wasundesirable. It would only lead to suffering. And while it lasted she,Beryl, might need something and lack it. That must not be. Adela wasfinished, and she must learn to understand that she was finished. Nowoman ought to seek to prolong her reign beyond a certain age. If Adelahad come back with her sheaves they must be resolutely scattered to thewinds--by somebody.
Arabian had taken a flat in Chelsea looking over the river. Evidently hewas going to settle down in London.
"But I live in Paris!" thought Miss Van Tuyn, as she pushed LadySellingworth's bell.
Her ladyship was at home, and Miss Van Tuyn mounted the stairs full ofexpectation.
When she came into the big drawing-room she noticed at once how dimlylit it was. Besides the firelight there was only one electric lampturned on, and that was protected by a rather large shade, and stood ona table at some distance from Lady Sellingworth's sofa. A tall figuregot up from this sofa as Miss Van Tuyn made her way towards the fire,and the well-remembered and very individual husky voice said:
"Dear Beryl! It's good of you to come to see me so soon. I only arrivedon Saturday."
"Dearest! How dark it is! I can scarcely see you."
"I love to give the firelight a chance. Didn't you know that? Come andsit down and tell me what you have been doing. You have quite given upParis?"
"Yes, for the time. I've become engrossed in painting. Dick Garstin hasgiven me the run of his studio. But where have you been?"
As she put the question Miss Van Tuyn looked closely at her friend, and,in spite of the dimness, she noticed a difference in her appearance.The white hair still crowned the beautifully shaped head, but it lookedthicker, more alive than formerly. The change which struck her most,however, was in the appearance of the face. It seemed, she thought,markedly younger and fresher, smoother than she remembered it, firmerin texture. Surely some, many even, of the wrinkles had disappeared. Andthe lips, once so pale and weary, were rosy now--if the light was notdeceiving her. The invariable black dress, too, had vanished. Adela worea lovely gown of a deep violet colour and had a violet band in herhair. She sat very upright. Her tall figure seemed almost braced up.And surely she looked less absolutely natural than usual. Therewas something--a slight hardness, perhaps, a touch of consciousimperviousness in look and manner, a watchful something--which made MissVan Tuyn for a moment think of a photograph she had seen on a member ofthe "old guard's" table.
The sheaves! The sheaves!
But the girl longed for more light. She knew she was not deceivedentirely by the dimness, but she longed for crude revelation. Alreadyher mind was busily at work on the future. She felt, although shehad only been in the room for two or three minutes, that the LadySellingworth who had just come back to London must presently be herenemy. And she wished to get in the first blow, since blows there wouldhave to be.
"Where have I been?" said Lady Sellingworth. "In the place of theswans--in Geneva."
"Geneva! We thought you had gone to the Riviera, probably to CapMartin."
"I did go to the Riviera first."
"It must have been a desert."
"Not quite. Cannes would have been quite pleasant. But I had to go on toGeneva to see a friend."
Miss Van Tuyn thought of Lausanne, of doctors. Many women whom sheknew in Paris swore by the doctors of Berne and Lausanne. There werewonderful treatments now for old women. Extraordinary things were donewith monkey glands and other mysterious preparations and inoculations.Was not Adela's manner changed? Did she not diffuse an atmosphere ofintention, of vigour, which had not been hers before? Did she not seemyounger?
"Did you stay long at the Beau Rivage?" she asked.
"Yes, I did."
"We have missed you."
/> "I like to think that."
"London loses its most characteristic note for me when you are not init."
Miss Van Tuyn's curiosity was becoming intense, but how could shegratify it? She sought about for an opening, but found none. For it wasseldom her way to be quite blunt with women, though with men she wasoften blunt.
"Everyone has been wondering where you were," she said. "Mr. Braybrookewas quite in a turmoil. Does he know you are back?"
"I haven't told him. But he gets to know everything in less than fiveminutes. And what have you been doing?"
This simple question suddenly gave Miss Van Tuyn the idea for a plan ofcampaign. It sprang into her brain, flashed upon it like an inspiration.For a moment she was rigid. Her body was strongly influenced. Then asthe idea made itself at home in her she became supple and soft again.
"I've got a lot to tell you," she said, "if you won't be bored."
"You never bore me, Beryl."
"No, I don't believe I do. Well, first I must tell you how good DickGarstin has been to me."
"Garstin the painter?"
"Yes."
And she enlarged upon her intense interest in painting, her admirationfor Garstin's genius, her curiosity about his methods and aims, herpassion for understanding the arts although she could not createherself. Lady Sellingworth, who knew the girl's genuine interest in allart developments, listened quite convinced of Beryl's sincerity. Arabianwas never mentioned. Miss Van Tuyn did not go into details. She spokeonly of models, of Garstin's varying moods, of his way of getting athing on to canvas, of his views on colour and technique.
"It must be absorbingly interesting to watch such a man at work," LadySellingworth said presently.
"It is. It's fascinating."
"And so that is the reason why you are staying so long in smoky oldLondon?"
"No, Adela, it isn't. At least, that's not the only reason."
The words were spoken slowly and were followed by a curiously conscious,almost, indeed, embarrassed look from the girl's violet eyes.
"No?"
After a long pause Beryl said:
"You know I have always looked upon you as a book of wisdom."
"It's very difficult to be wise," said Lady Sellingworth, with a touchof bitterness. "And sometimes very dull."
"But you are wise, dearest. I feel it. You have known and done somuch, and you have had brains to understand, to seek out the truth fromexperience. You have lived with understanding. You are not like thepeople who travel round the world and come back just the same as if theyhad been from Piccadilly Circus to Hampstead Heath and back. One _feels_you have been round the world when one is with you."
"Does one?" said Lady Sellingworth, rather drily. "But I fanciednowadays the young thought all the wisdom lay with them."
"Well, I don't. And, besides, I think you are marvellously discreet."
"Wise! Discreet! I begin to feel as if I ought to sit on the Bench!"
Again there was the touch of bitterness in the voice. A very faint smilehovered for an instant about Miss Van Tuyn's lips.
"Judging the foolish women! Well, I think you are one of the few whowould have a right to do that. You are so marvellously sensible."
"Anyhow, I have no wish to do it. But--you were going to tell me?"
"In confidence."
"Of course. The book of wisdom never opens its leaves to the mob."
"I want very much to know your opinion of young Alick Craven."
As she heard the word "young" Lady Sellingworth had great difficultyin keeping her face still. Her mouth wanted to writhe, to twist to theleft. She had the same intense shooting feeling that had hurt her whenSeymour Portman had called Alick Craven a boy.
"Of Mr. Craven!" she said, with sudden severe reserve. "Why? Why?"
Directly she had spoken she regretted the repetition. Her mind feltstiff, unyielding. And all her body felt stiff too.
"That's what I want to tell you," said Miss Van Tuyn, speaking with someapparent embarrassment.
And immediately Lady Sellingworth knew that she did not want to hear,that it would be dangerous, almost deadly, for her to hear. She longedto spread out her hands in the protesting gesture of one keepingsomething off, away from her, to say, "Don't! Don't! I won't hear!" Andshe sat very still, and murmured a casual "Yes?"
And then Miss Van Tuyn shot her bolt very cleverly, her aimbeing careful and good, her hand steady as a rock, her eyes fixedundeviatingly on the object she meant to bring down. She consultedLady Sellingworth about her great friendship with Craven, told LadySellingworth how for some time, "ever since the night we all went tothe theatre," Craven had been seeking her out persistently, spoke ofhis visits, their dinners together, their games of golf at Beaconsfield,finally came to Sunday, "yesterday."
"In the morning the telephone rang and we had a little talk. A Daimlercar was suggested and a run down to Rye. You know my American ideas,Adela. A long day alone in the country with a boy--"
"Mr. Craven is scarcely a boy, I think!"
"But we call them boys!"
"Oh, yes!"
"With a boy means nothing extraordinary to a girl with my ideas. But Ithink he took it rather differently. Anyhow, we spent the whole day outplaying golf together, and in the evening, when twilight was coming on,we drove to Camber Sands. Do you know them?"
"No."
"They are vast and absolutely deserted. It was rather stormy, but wetook a long walk on them, and then sat on a sand bank to watch the nightcoming on. I dare say it all sounds very ridiculous and sentimental toyou! I am sure it must!"
"No, no. Besides, I know you Americans do all these things with nosentiment at all, merely _pour passer le temps_."
"Yes, sometimes. But he isn't an American."
Again she looked slightly embarrassed and seemed to hesitate.
"You mean--you think that he--?"
"It was that evening . . . last night only, in fact--"
"Oh, yes, of course it was last night. To-day is Monday."
"That I began to realize that we were getting into a rather differentrelation to each other. When it began to get dark he wanted to hold myhand and--but I needn't go into all that. It would only seem silly toyou. You see, we are both young, though, of course, he is older thanI. But he is very young, quite a boy in feeling and even in manner veryoften. I have seen him lately in all sorts of circumstances, so I know."
She stopped as if thinking. Lady Sellingworth sat very upright on hersofa, with her head held rather high, and her hands, in their long whitegloves, quite still. And there was a moment of absolute silence in thedrawing-room. At last Miss Van Tuyn spoke again.
"I feel since last night that things are different between Alick andme."
"Are you engaged to him--to Mr. Craven?"
"Oh, no. He hasn't asked me to be. But I want to know what you think ofhim. It would help me. I like him very much. But you know far more aboutmen than I do."
"I doubt it, Beryl. I see scarcely anyone now. You live in Parissurrounded by clever men and--"
"But you have had decades more of experience than I have. In fact, _you_have been round the world and I have, so to speak, only crossed theChannel. Do help me, Adela. I am full of hesitation and doubt, and yetI am getting very fond of Alick. And I don't want to hurt him. I think Ihurt him a little yesterday, but--"
"Sir Seymour Portman!" said Murgatroyd's heavy voice at the door.
And the old courtier entered almost eagerly, his dark eyes shining underthe thatch of eyebrows and the white gleam of the "cauliflower."
And very soon Miss Van Tuyn went away, without the advice which she wasso anxious to have. As she walked through Berkeley Square she feltmore at ease than when she had come into it. But she was puzzled aboutsomething. And she said to herself:
"Can she have tried monkey glands too?"
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