by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER XIV
At that moment I had no thought of either right or wrong. I wasdetermined to go straight forward and appeal to a very generous andchivalrous man to help me; I thought he could do it, and I believed thatno one else in all the world would. I ran quickly upstairs--what acomfort it was to know that Morris was nowhere in sight, how delightfulwas the sensation of putting on my own hat and jacket, of tying a scarfround my neck and slipping my hands into my gloves. It was alsoperfectly delicious not to be obliged to look even once into theglass--little did I care at that moment how I looked!
I had a small sealskin purse; I slipped the purse inside my muff andwent downstairs. Soon it would be too warm to wear muffs, for the finesummer weather was fast approaching, but I was glad of mine to-day.Perhaps my sorrow had chilled me, for I felt rather cold. A taxi-cabcame slowly by; I motioned to the man to stop. I got in, telling thedriver to take me to 24c, Green Street, "And go as quickly as you can,"I said. I was all impatience, and the possibility of Lord Hawtrey beingout did not once occur to me.
We got to Green Street in a very few minutes and drew up at the rightnumber. There was "24c," painted in most distinct lettering on thehighly-enamelled door. The door was enamelled a very soft shade ofgreen, and I thought it looked remarkably well. I also remarked theflower boxes in each of the windows and how fresh and smart the flowerslooked, but somehow they did not please me. I supposed that Lord Hawtreyhad a passion for flowers, otherwise he would never have given me thoseroses. I hated the memory of those roses now; this time yesterday howpassionately I had loved them, but now I hated them. I had supposed thatthey had come from my own true love, and they had in reality been thegift of an old man who might have been my father, for so I consideredLord Hawtrey.
I stepped out of the cab, paid the driver his fare, saw him move away,and then ran up the low flight of steps and rang the bell.
"Is Lord Hawtrey in?" I asked of the man in livery who attended to mysummons.
A reply in the negative was instantly given to me.
"His lordship is out, miss." The man gave me a cold stare. But I was fartoo excited to think about his manner.
"Will he be in soon?" I asked. "I have come to see Lord Hawtrey on veryimportant business."
"If you will step inside, miss, I will make inquiries. May I ask if hislordship is expecting you?"
"No," I answered. "This is Lady Helen Dalrymple's card; I have come fromher house."
The man took the card and gave me a second glance, which now showedabsolute respect. How magical was the effect of my stepmother's name! Iwondered at it. I was glad that I had put a few of her cards in mypurse.
In a very few minutes the servant returned to say that his lordshipwould be in almost immediately, and asking me if I would wish to wait inthe white boudoir.
I said yes. Little did I care where I waited at that instant. Theservant conducted me upstairs to a pretty room, which must have beenarranged for a lady's comfort. It was furnished in white. The walls werewhite, so was the furniture. The only bit of colour anywhere was a verysoft, very bright crimson carpet, into which one's feet sank. The effectof the crimson carpet on the white room was extremely effective. Therewere no pictures round the walls, but there were a great many mirrors,so that as I entered I caught the reflection of myself from many pointsof view. I sat down on a low chair and was glad to find that I could nolonger look at my small, tired face.
The minutes passed; a little clock over the mantelpiece told me thetime. Five minutes went by, ten, fifteen, then there was a sounddownstairs, men's voices talking together, men laughing and chattingvolubly, some ladies joining in their talk. Then there was a sudden kindof hush. All the visitors entered a room a considerable way off, and aminute later there was a hurried ascending of the stairs, the door wasopened with a sort of impetuosity, and Lord Hawtrey, looking slightlyflushed, surprised, and not altogether pleased, entered the room.
"My dear Miss Dalrymple," he began, "I am amazed to see you hereand--and charmed, of course--but is there anything wrong, is thereanything I can do for you? What is it, my dear little girl?"
Lord Hawtrey dropped his society manners on the spot. With his quick,kind eyes he read the distress on my face.
"I want you to help me," I said, "I want to speak to you all alone--butyou have brought visitors in. May I stay here until they go?"
"Oh, no, that won't do at all. Of course, I should be delighted to talkto you now; let me think. My sister, Lady Mary Percy, is downstairs--Iwill see her. She will come and talk with you."
"But it is you I want to see, Lord Hawtrey."
"Leave the matter in my hands, dear child, I'll attend to everything. Bythe way, where is your stepmother and where is your father to-day?"
"They have gone in the motor-car into the country."
"I will see my sister; she will be with you in a minute or two."
Lord Hawtrey left the room. I felt puzzled and distressed. I wondered ifI had done wrong. A very few moments passed and then the same servantwho had admitted me appeared, bearing a charming little tray which heldafternoon tea for two.
"Lady Mary Percy will be here in a moment, miss," he said, "she desiresyou not to wait for her."
I did wait. I did not want tea, nor did I want to see Lady Mary, but ina very few minutes, true to the servant's words, she appeared. She was avery pretty woman, and looked quite young beside her brother. She had akind, thoughtful face, a high-bred face, the face of one who had neverin the whole of her life thought of anything except what was good andnoble. I was certain of that the moment I saw her. I was glad now thatLord Hawtrey had asked her to come to me. In my excitement I forgot thatshe must think my conduct strange, and must wonder what sort of a girlI, Heather Dalrymple, was. She came up to me and held out her hand, thenshe looked into my face.
"Lord Hawtrey has begged of me to come and see you. Shall we have sometea together?"
She sat down at once and poured out tea for us both. She offered me acup, and I felt that I should be very rude if I refused it. It was withdifficulty I could either eat or drink, but Lady Mary seemed to expectme to do so, and for her sake I made an effort. The tea did me good, forit was strong and fragrant, the bread and butter was delicious, it didme good also. I felt more like a child and less like an anguished,storm-tossed woman than I had done before that meal. When it came to anend Lady Mary touched a silver gong, and presently a woman, dressedbeautifully all in white, and whom Lady Mary called Blanche, appeared.
"Take these things away, please, Blanche," she said, "and order mycarriage to be at the door in half an hour."
"Yes, my lady," replied Blanche.
She removed the tea things, the door was shut behind her, and Lady Maryand I faced each other.
"Now," she said, "you had better tell me what you intended to say to mybrother, Lord Hawtrey. I can see that you are in trouble, and I shouldvery much like to help you."
"Oh, but it is impossible to tell you," I replied.
The colour rushed into my cheeks, then it receded, leaving them verypale. I knew they were pale, for I felt so cold.
Lady Mary changed her seat. She came over, took a low chair, seatedherself by my side, and stretching out her hand, clasped one of mine inhers.
"Dear," she said, in a gentle tone, "you are very young, are you not?"
"I suppose so," I answered, "but I do not feel so. I am eighteen."
"Ah! But eighteen is extremely young; I know that, who am twenty-eight;my brother Hawtrey is forty."
"I know," I said, "your brother is old, is he not? I thought I mightcome to see a kind old man. Have I done wrong?"
"No, child, you have not done wrong; nevertheless, you have donesomething that the world would not approve of. Now, I want you to comeaway to my house. I live in another part of London; in my house you cansee my brother if you wish, but why do you not confide in me? I shouldlike to be your friend."
I looked straight up at her. After all, she was nearer to my own age.Could I not tell her? I s
aid impulsively:
"I will go away to your house with you and I will tell you there, andyou can advise me what I ought really to do."
"Yes, I am sure that will be much the wisest plan. And now let us talkof other matters."
She began to chat in a light, winsome voice. After a time she begged ofme to excuse her and went downstairs. She came back again in a fewminutes.
"I have told my brother that you would tell me what you intended to sayto him, and he is quite pleased with the idea," she said, "and mycarriage is now at the door, so shall we go?"
"Yes," I answered.
We went downstairs together. We entered a very luxurious carriage, whichwas drawn by a pair of spirited bay horses. In a few minutes we foundourselves in another part of fashionable London. I cannot even to thisday recall the name of the street. The house was not at all unlike LordHawtrey's house; it was furnished with the same severity, and the sameexcellent taste. Lady Mary took me into a little boudoir, which wasdestitute of knick-knacks and bric-a-brac. But it had many flowers, and,what I greatly enjoyed, a comfortable sense of space. My hostess drew acushioned chair forward and desired me to sit in it; I did so. Then sheseated herself and took one of my hands.
"Your story, Miss Heather Dalrymple?" she said.
"I will tell you," I answered. "Perhaps you will be dreadfully angry,but I cannot help it, you must know. I am eighteen and Lord Hawtrey isforty. I think Lord Hawtrey one of the best men in all the world; he isso kind and he has such a beautiful way with him. Last night he dined atour house and afterwards he came to see me quite by myself, and he spokeas no other man ever spoke to me before, only you must understand,please, and not be angry, that I could not do what he wanted. He wanteda very young girl like me, a girl who knows nothing at all of life,to--to marry him. Do you think that was fair or right, Lady Mary Percy?"
Lady Mary's brown eyes seemed to dance in her head. It was with aneffort she suppressed something which might have been a smile or mighthave been a frown. After a minute's silence she said gently:
"It altogether depends on the girl to whom such a speech is addressed."
"I know that," I answered, "but this girl, the girl who is now talkingto you ... I cannot even try to explain to you what a simple life I havelived--just the very quietest, and with a dear, dear old lady, who ispoor, and doesn't know anything about the luxuries of the rich people ofLondon. She has brought me up, during all the years I have been withher, to think nothing whatsoever of riches; she has got that idea sofirmly into my mind that I don't think it can be uprooted. So whateverhappens, I am not likely to care for Lord Hawtrey because he is rich,nor to care for him because he is a nobleman or has high rank, oranything of that sort. I said to him last night: 'You don't want toforce me to be your wife,' and he answered, 'You must come to me of yourown free will.' Well, it is just this, Lady Mary. I can never come tohim of my own free will, never, never!"
"He told me, child," said Lady Mary, in a quiet, low, very level sort ofvoice, "that he had spoken to you. I was a good deal astonished; Ithought the advantages were on your side. You must forgive me; you havespoken frankly to me, it is my turn to speak frankly to you--I thoughtthe disadvantages were on his side. A very young, innocent, ignorantgirl, I did not think a suitable wife for my brother, but he assured methat he loved you, he assured me also that there was something about youwhich wins hearts. That being the case, I--well, I said no more. Now youspeak to me as though I earnestly desired this marriage. I do notearnestly desire it--I don't wish for it at all."
"Then you will prevent it? How splendid of you!" I said, and I bentforward as though I would kiss her hand.
She moved slightly away from me. She was in touch with me, but notaltogether in touch at that moment.
"I will tell you what has really happened," I said. "I must. I admireyour brother beyond words, I know how tremendously he has honoured me,and I think somehow, if things were different, that I might feel temptedto--just to do what he wants. But things are so circumstanced that Icannot possibly do what Lord Hawtrey wishes, for I love another man. Heis quite young, he--he and I love each other tremendously. He asked methis morning to be his wife and I accepted him. I was in the Park when Imet him, and he asked me there and then. We walked home together, mymaid was with us, so I suppose it was all right. This is a very queerworld, where there seems no freedom for any young girl. I brought VernonCarbury----"
"Whom did you say?"
"Captain Carbury, I mean. I brought him into the room with my father andmother--or my stepmother--and--he told them what he wanted. They sent meaway--I was rather frightened when they did that--and when they had himall alone they spoke to him and they told him that he was to go out ofmy life, because, Lady Mary, your brother, Lord Hawtrey, was to comein. They said that they wanted me to marry your brother, and I won't--Ican't--and I much want you to help me in this matter."
"Upon my word!" said Lady Mary. She rose abruptly and began to pace theroom. "You are the queerest girl I ever met! There must be some queersort of witchery about you. On a certain night you are proposed to by mybrother Hawtrey, the head of our house, one of the richest men inEngland, and certainly one of the most nobly born. You snub him, just asthough he were a nobody. On the following morning you receive a proposalfrom Vernon Carbury, he who was engaged to Lady Dorothy Vinguard."
"Yes, but all that is at an end," I said.
"I know, I know. Dorothy is not a perfectly silly girl like you, and sheis marrying a man older and richer and greater than Carbury. And so youhave fallen in love with him? Yes, I know; those blue eyes of his wouldbe certain to make havoc in more than one girl's heart. It is a prettytale, upon my word it is, and out of the common. Now you have confidedthings to me, I don't think Hawtrey will trouble you any more; perhaps Ican see to that. Would you like to go back home--and before you go, isthere anything I can do for you?"
"No, oh, no," I said, "you have made me quite happy!"
"I am glad of that. You are a very strange girl; I suppose you willmarry Captain Carbury some day. You are, of course, quite unaware of thefact that Hawtrey must have loved you beyond the ordinary when he madeup his mind to take as a wife the daughter of Major Grayson?"
I sprang to my feet.
"What do you mean by those words?"
"Don't you know, child, don't you know?"
"I know nothing, except that my father is the best man in all theworld."
Lady Mary looked at me, at first with scorn, then a strange, new,softened, pitying expression flashed over her face.
"You poor little girl!" she said. "Have you never suspected, have younever guessed, why he married Lady Helen Dalrymple, and why he took hername, and why----"
"Don't tell me any more," I said, "please don't, I would rather notknow. Good-bye--you have been kind, you have meant to be very kind, butyou are hinting at something quite awful--all the same, I will findout--yes, I will find out! My father do a mean thing! Indeed, you littleknow him. Good-bye, Lady Mary."
"Stay, child; the carriage must take you home."
"No, I will walk," I said.
My heart was burning within me. I really thought that I should breakdown, but although I heard Lady Mary ring her bell, and passed anastonished servant coming up the stairs in answer to her summons, Imanaged to get into the street before she could interfere. I was glad ofthis. I must walk, I must get away from myself, I must find out once forall what terrible thing was the matter--what secret there was in myfather's life.
I walked and walked, and was so absorbed in myself and my ownreflections, that I was quite oblivious of the fact that people glancedat me from time to time. I had not the manner of a London girl, and didnot wear the dress of the sort of girl who walks about Londonunattended. At last I came to a big park--I think now it must have beenRegent's Park, but I am by no means sure. The trees looked cool andinviting, the grass was green, there were broad paths and, of course,there were flowers everywhere. It occurred to me then, as I entered thepark and sat down on a low se
at not far from the water, that I could notpossibly do better in existing circumstances than go back to AuntPenelope. If I could only see Aunt Penelope once more I should know whatto do, and I should force her to tell me my father's story.
"It is positively wrong to keep it from me," I thought; "I cannot act inthe dark, I cannot endure this suspense; whatever has happened, he isright, he is good, he is splendid and noble. Nothing would induce me tobelieve anything against him."
I took my purse out of my pocket, and opening it, spread its contents onthe palm of my hand. I had three pounds in my purse, plenty of money,therefore, to go back to the dear little village where I had beenbrought up.