CHAPTER X
THE QUEEN'S PARDON
As soon as Anne entered Baronmead that evening she was aware of adifference. Bertie, with a thunderous countenance, came forward tomeet her. She had not seen him wear that look in all the months ofNap's absence.
"The prodigal has returned," he told her briefly. "P'r'aps you know."
She did not pretend to misunderstand him. She had schooled herself toface the situation without shrinking.
"Yes, I know," she said. "I met him at your house an hour ago."
"At my house!" For a single instant Bertie looked downright murderous,and then the sight of Anne's pale face made him restrain himself.
"He didn't stay," she said rather wearily. "What of Luke? Has heseen him?"
"Can't understand Luke," muttered Bertie. "He's actually pleased. Say,Lady Carfax, would it help any if I were to stop and dine?"
"No," Anne said, smiling a little. "Go back to Dot, won't you? She isexpecting you."
She saw that he was glad to follow her suggestion, and she wasundoubtedly glad to see him go. He was plainly in an explosive mood.
Mrs. Errol came to her room while she was dressing. But Mrs. Errol hadhad ample time to compose herself. She showed no agitation, and spoke ofNap's unexpected arrival as if she were quite indifferent to his comingsand goings; but she hovered about Anne with a protecting motherlinessthat did not need to express itself in words. When they went downstairsshe held Anne's arm very closely.
But the ordeal that both were mutely dreading did not take place thatnight. Nap did not present himself at the dinner-table, and they dinedalone in unspoken relief.
Anne went to Lucas as usual when the meal was over, but she thought heseemed tired and she did not remain with him long.
He kept her hand for a moment when she stooped to bid him good-night.
"Anne," he said gently, "I just want you to know, dear, that Nap will beall right. Don't be anxious any. There is no need."
He desired to reassure her, she saw; and she bent and kissed him. Andthen for a moment a queer gust of passion possessed her, shook her fromhead to foot.
"Oh, Luke," she whispered, "can't you send him away again?"
He looked up at her oddly, with eyes that seemed to see beyond her. Andthen, "Good-night, dear," he said, as if he had not heard.
She turned from him in silence. It was the first time she had everappealed to Lucas Errol in vain.
She went to her room early that night. She told herself she must leave onthe morrow. She was urged by a deep unrest. She could not remain underthe same roof with this man who had once so cruelly tortured her. Shecould not. Lucas must understand this. He must never ask it of her,never--never!
She did not in the least understand the latter's attitude. The more shethought of it, the more it troubled her. She felt as if he had suddenlyceased to be on her side, had, as it were, shut off his sympathy and lefther groping and alone. It was not like him to treat her thus. It hurt hersubtly, wounding her as she had never expected to be wounded, shaking herfaith in what she had ever believed to be immutable. And then sheremembered the physical weakness with which he had wrestled so long, anda great pity flooded her heart. She would not let herself be hurt anylonger. Was he not reserving his strength for her sake? And could shenot, for his, face bravely this sudden obstacle that had arisen in herpath? Moreover, had he not told her that all would be well? And he hadsaid it as one who knew. Why, then, was she harbouring this wild dismay?
Why? Why? She asked the question, but she did not seek the answer. Shedared not.
And yet in the morning she went down with a calm aspect, resolute andunafraid. Once more she was compelling herself to do simply that whichlay nearest to her hand.
Nap came out of a room near the foot of the stairs as she descended.He scarcely looked at her, but quite obviously he had been awaitingher coming.
"May I have two words with you before you join the mater?" he asked.
With her whole soul she wanted to refuse. Yet without visible hesitationshe yielded. She turned aside into the room he had just quitted.
He followed, and, closing the door, came forward to the table. It waslittered with guns and cleaning apparatus. He had evidently beenemploying himself while he waited, and he at once took up an oily rag andresumed operations, his swarthy face bent over his task, his lips veryfirmly compressed.
Anne waited for a moment or two. His attitude puzzled her. She had becomeso accustomed to the fierce directness of his stare that its absencedisconcerted her.
"What is it you wish to say to me?" she asked at length.
At the first sound of her voice he ceased to work, but still he did notraise his eyes.
"On my own account--nothing," he said, speaking very deliberately. "Butas my sojourn here may be an offence to you, I think it advisable toexplain at the outset that I am not a free agent. My brother hasdecreed it, and as you know"--a hint of irony crept into his voice--"hiswill is my law."
"I understand," said Anne gravely, but even as she spoke she was askingherself what possible motive had prompted this explanation.
He jerked up his head and she caught the glint of his fiery eyes for aninstant. "You--care for Lucas, Lady Carfax?" he said.
Her heart gave a sudden throb that hurt her intolerably. For a moment shecould not speak.
Then, "Yes," she said. "I love him."
Nap was pulling mechanically at the rag he held. It began to tear betweenhis hands. She watched him ripping it to shreds.
Suddenly he seemed to realise what he was doing, and tossed it from him.He looked her straight in the eyes.
"Have you fixed the date for your coronation?" he asked.
Her eyes fell instantly. "Will you tell me what you mean?" she said.
"Is my meaning obscure?"
She compelled herself to answer him steadily. "If you mean our marriage,it will not take place for some time, possibly not this year."
"Why not?" said Nap. "Are you a slave to etiquette?"
The thing sounded preposterous on his lips. She faintly smiled. "Thedecision does not lie with me."
"Ah!" he said shrewdly. "The privilege of kings! You will still be aqueen before you are thirty. And your first act will be to expel thecourt jester--if he waits to be expelled."
She saw his grim smile for an instant, and knew that he was playing hisold fencing game with her, but at the same time she knew that there wasno antagonism behind his point. How the knowledge came to her she couldnot have said, but she realised afterwards that it was at that momentthat she began to perceive that the devil had gone out of Nap Errol. Theconviction was slow in growing, but it was then that it first took root;it was then that her fear of the man began to die away.
She raised her eyes. "Why should I do that, Nap?"
He made her a deep bow. "Because I have been unfortunate enough to incuryour displeasure."
There was a moment of silence, then, in obedience to that instinct towhich in rare moments she yielded herself and which never played herfalse, Anne held out her hand to him. "I forgive you," she said.
He started. He evidently had not expected that from her. Perhaps he hadnot wanted it. Later she wondered. But he showed no awkwardness ofindecision. Only once had she ever seen him at a loss, and of that onceshe would never voluntarily think again.
He took her hand upon his sleeve and bent over it. She thought he wasgoing to kiss it, and a sharp dread went through her. But he only touchedit for a single instant with his forehead.
"For Luke's sake?" he said, not looking at her.
"For your own," she made answer, almost as if she could not help herself.
"Because?" he questioned.
"Because I know you love him," she said. "Because I know that you will beloyal to him."
"Though I may be false to you?" he said.
She bent her head. "I am only a woman. I am afraid your experience ofwomen has not taught you to respect them."
He picked up the gun again and fell to
work upon it. "My experience ofone woman at least," he said, "has taught me--something different,something I am not likely to forget."
It was the end of the interview. In silence Anne turned to go. He wheeledround and opened the door for her, but he did not look at her again, norshe at him. When the door closed between them she felt as if a greatsilence had fallen in her life.
The Knave of Diamonds Page 48