Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 15

by Plots (and) Counterplots (v1. 1)

  Diana looked embarrassed, Lady Lennox grave, and, as if weary of the subject, Douglas thrust the shred of lace into his waistcoat pocket, and proposed a riding party. Miss Stuart preferred driving her aunt in the pony carriage, but Mrs. Vane accepted the invitation, and made George Lennox wretched by accepting the loan of one of Earl’s horses in preference to his own, which she had ridden the day before. When she appeared, ready for the expedition, glances of admiration shone in the eyes of all the gentlemen, even the gloomy Douglas, as he watched her, wondering if the piquant figure before him could be the same that he had seen in the garden, looking like a lovely, dreaming child. Her black habit, with its velvet facings, set off her little lithe figure to a charm; her hair shone like imprisoned sunshine through the scarlet net that held it, and her face looked bewilderingly brilliant and arch in the shadow of a cavalier hat, with its graceful plume.

  As Douglas bent to offer his hand in mounting her, she uttered an exclamation of pain, and caught at his arm to keep herself from falling. Involuntarily he sustained her, and for an instant she leaned upon him, with her face hidden in his breast, as if to conceal some convulsion of suffering.

  “My dear Mrs. Vane, what is it? Let me take you in—shall I call for help?” began Douglas, much alarmed.

  But she interrupted him and, looking up with a faint smile, answered quietly, as she attempted to stand alone, “It is nothing but the cramp in my foot. It will be over in a moment; Gabrielle fastened my boot too tightly—let me sit down, and I will loosen it.”

  “Allow me; lean on my shoulder; it's but a moment.”

  Down knelt Douglas; and, with one hand lightly touching his shoulder to steady herself, the other still closely folded, as if not yet out of pain, Mrs. Vane stood glancing from under her long lashes at Diana, who was waiting in the hall for her aunt, and observing the scene in the avenue with ill-concealed anxiety. The string was in a knot, and Douglas set about his little service very leisurely, for the foot and ankle before him were the most perfect he had ever seen. While so employed, Jitomar, Mrs. Vane's man, appeared, and, tossing him the gloves she had taken off, she signed to him to bid her maid bring her another pair, as some slight blemish in these had offended her fastidious taste. He comprehended with difficulty, it seemed, for words were useless to a deaf-mute, and the motions of his mistress's hands appeared at first without meaning to him. The idea came with a flash, and bowing, he bounded into the house, with his white robes streaming, and his scarlet slippers taking him along as if enchanted, while the grooms wondered, and Mrs. Vane laughed.

  Jitomar hurried to his lady’s room, delivered his message, and while Gabrielle went down with a fresh pair of gloves, he enacted a curious little scene in the deserted chamber. Carefully unfolding the discarded gloves, he took from the inside of one of them the shred of lace that Douglas had put into his waistcoat pocket at the breakfast table. He examined it with a peculiar smile; then going to a tiger-skin rug that lay beside the bed, he lifted it and produced a black lace shawl, which seemed to have been hastily hidden there. One corner was gone; but laying the torn bit in its place, it fitted exacdy, and, as if satisfied, Jitomar refolded both, put them in his pocket, glided to his own room, prepared himself for going out, and, unobserved by anyone, took the next train to London. Mrs. Vane meanwhile had effaced the memory of her first failure by mounting her horse alone, with an elasticity and grace that filled her escort with astonishment and admiration. Laughing her enchanting laugh, she settled herself in the saddle, touched her hat to Lady Lennox, and cantered away with Douglas, while Harry followed far behind, for George had suddenly remembered that an engagement would prevent his joining them, having no mind to see Mrs. Vane absorbed by another.

  As they climbed a long hill, Mrs. Vane suddenly paused in her witty badinage, and after a thoughtful moment, and a backward glance at Harry, who followed apparently out of earshot, she said, earnestly yet timidly, “Mr. Douglas, I desire to ask a favor of you—not for myself, but for the sake of one who is dear to both of us.”

  “Mrs. Vane can ask no favor that I shall not be both proud and happy to grant for her own sake,” returned Earl, eyeing her with much surprise.

  “Well, then, I shall be most grateful if you will shun me for a few days; ignore my presence as far as possible, and so heal the breach which I fear I may unconsciously have caused between Miss Stuart and yourself.”

  “I assure you that you are mistaken regarding the cause of the slight coolness between us, and it is impossible to ignore the existence of Mrs. Vane, having once had the happiness of seeing her.”

  “Ah, you take refuge in evasion and compliments, as I feared you would; but it is my nature to be frank, and I shall compass my end by leaving you no subterfuge and no power to deny me. I met you both this morning, and read a happy secret in your faces; I hoped when next I saw you to find your mutual happiness secured. But no—I found you grave and cold; saw trouble in your eyes, jealousy and pain in Diana’s. I have seen the latter sentiment in her eyes before, and could not but think that I was the unhappy cause of this estrangement. She is peculiar; she does not like me, will not let me love her, and wounds me in many ways. I easily forgive her, for she is not happy, and I long to help her, even against her will—therefore I speak to you.”

  “Again I assure you that you are wrong. Diana is jealous, but not of you alone, and she has placed me in a cruel strait. I, too, will be frank, and confess that she will not listen to me, unless I betray a secret that is not my own.”

  “You will not do this, having sworn to keep it?”

  “Never! A Douglas cannot break his word.”

  “I comprehend now,” said Mrs. Vane. “Diana wishes to test her power, and you rebel. It is not natural in both; yet I beseech you not to try her too much, because at a certain point she will become unmanageable. She comes of an unhappy race, and desperate things have been done in her family. Guard your secret, for honor demands it, but take my warning and shun me, that you may add nothing to the trouble she has brought upon herself.”

  “I have no wish to do so; but she also must beware of testing her power too severely, for I am neither a patient nor a humble man, and my will is inflexible when once I am resolved. She should see this, should trust me, and let us both be happy.”

  “Ah, if she truly loved, she would; for then one believes blindly, can think no ill, fear no wrong, desire no confidence that is not freely given. She does not know the bliss of loving with one's whole heart and soul, and asking no happier fate than to live for a man whose affection makes a heaven anywhere.”

  They had paused on the brow of the hill to wait for Harry, and as she spoke, Mrs. Vane's face kindled with a glow that made it doubly beautiful; for voice, eyes, lips, and gestures all betrayed how well she could love. Douglas regarded her with a curious consciousness of attraction and repulsion, feeling that had he met her before he saw and loved Diana, he never should have given his peace into the keeping of that exacting girl. An involuntary sigh escaped him; Mrs. Vane brightened instantly, saying:

  “Nay, do not fall back into your gloomy mood again, or I shall think that I have increased, not lessened, your anxiety. I came to cheer you if I could, for though I have done with love myself, it gives me sin- cerest satisfaction to serve those who are just beginning to know its pleasant pain.”

  She was smiling as she spoke, but the lovely eyes lifted to her companion's face were full of tears. Remembering her loneliness, her loss, and with a grateful sense of all she desired to do for him, Douglas ungloved and offered her his hand, with an impulsive gesture, saying warmly, “You are very kind; I thank you, and feel already comforted by the thought that though I may have lost a lover, I have gained a friend.”

  Here Harry came up brimful of curiosity, for he had seen and heard more than they knew. After this they all rode on together, and when Douglas dismounted Mrs. Vane she whispered, “Remember, you are to shun me, no matter how pointedly. I shall forgive you, and she will be happier for our little
ruse.”

  This speech, as well as the first uttered by Mrs. Vane when their serious conversation began, was overheard by Harry, and when Diana carelessly asked him if he had enjoyed his ride, he repeated the two remarks, hoping to gain some explanation of them before he told his brother, whose cause he heartily espoused. He knew nothing of Miss Stuart’s love, and made her his confidante without a suspicion of the pang he was inflicting. She bade him forget what he had heard, but could not do so herself, and all that day those two sentences rang through her mind unceasingly.

  Pausing that evening in the hall to examine one of the ancient portraits hanging there, Douglas heard a soft rustle, and turning, saw Mrs. Vane entering, as if from a moonlight stroll on the balcony. The night was cool, and over her head was drawn a corner of the black lace shawl that drooped from her shoulders. Her dress of violet silk was trimmed with a profusion of black lace, and wonderingly becoming to white skin and golden hair was the delicate tint and its rich decoration. Douglas went to her, saying, as he offered his hand, “You see how well I keep my word; now let me reward myself by taking you in. But, first, pray tell me if this is a picture of Sir Lionel.”

  He led her to the portrait that had excited his curiosity, and while she told him some little legend of it, he still lingered, held as much by the charm of the living voice as by the exploits of the dead knight. Standing thus, arm in arm, alone and engrossed in one another, neither, apparently, saw Diana pausing on the threshold of the library with an expression of deep displeasure in her face. Douglas did not see her; Mrs. Vane did, though not a sign betrayed it, except that in an instant her whole expression changed. As Douglas looked up at the picture, she looked up at him with love, grief, pain, and pity visibly contending in her beautiful face; then suddenly withdrawing her arm, she said, “I forgot, we are strangers now. Let me enter alone.” And gliding from him with bent head, she passed into the drawing room.

  Much amazed at her abrupt flight, Earl looked after her, saw Diana watching him, and inexpressibly annoyed by the contretemps, he started, colored, bowed coldly, and followed Mrs. Vane without a word. For a moment, Diana lingered with her head in her hands, thinking disconsolately: “What secret lies between them? She leaned and looked as if she had a right there. He is already more at ease with her than me, although they met but yesterday. Have they not met before? She asked some favor ‘for the sake of one dear to both/ Who is it? He must shun her that someone may be happy, though deceived. Is that me? She knows his mystery, has a part in it, and I am to be kept blind. Wait a little! I too can plot, and watch, and wait. I can read faces, fathom actions, and play a part, though my heart breaks in doing it.”

  All that evening she watched them; saw that Douglas did not shun Mrs. Vane; also that he feigned unconsciousness of her own keen scrutiny, and seemed endeavoring to chase from her mind the memory of the morning’s interview, or the evening’s discovery. She saw Mrs. Vane act surprise, pique, and displeasure at his seeming desertion, and console herself by making her peace with Lennox. To others, Diana appeared unusually animated and carefree, but never had an evening seemed so interminable, and never had she so gladly hailed the hour of separation.

  She was standing by Lady Lennox when Mrs. Vane came up to say good night. Her ladyship did not like Diana, and did both love and pity the lonely little widow, who had endeared herself in so many ways. As she swept a curtsy, with the old-fashioned reverence that her hostess liked, Lady Lennox drew her nearer and kissed her with motherly affection, saying playfully as she did so, “No pranks tonight among the spirits, my dear, else these friends will think you and I are witches in good earnest.,,

  “That reminds me, I have kept my promise, and Mr. Douglas can compare his telltale bit with my mother's, and, as you see, very precious in every respect."

  Gravely exploring one pocket after another, Earl presently announced, with some chagrin, that the bit was lost, blown away while riding, probably. So nothing could be done, and Mrs. Vane was acquitted of lending her laces to the household ghost. Diana looked disappointed, and taking up a corner of the shawl, said, as she examined it narrowly, “As I remember the shred, it matched this pattern exactly. It is a peculiar one, and I observed it well. I wish the bit was not lost, for if people play such games with your clothes, they may take equal liberties with mine."

  Seeing suspicion in her eyes, Mrs. Vane gathered the four corners of the shawl together, and with great care spread each over her violet skirt before Diana. Not a fracture appeared, and when she had done the same with every atom of trimming on her dress, she drew her slender figure up with an air of proud dignity, asking almost sternly, “Am I acquitted of this absurd charge, Miss Stuart?"

  Entirely disconcerted by the quickness with which her distrust had been seen and exposed, Diana could only look guilty, apologize, and find herself convicted of an unjust suspicion. Mrs. Vane received her atonement graciously, and wrapping her shawl about her, went away to bed, with a mischievous smile shining in her eyes as she bowed to Douglas, whose glance followed her till the last glimpse of the violet dress disappeared.

  Chapter V

  TREASON

  THE week passed gaily enough, externally, but to several of the party it was a very dreary and very memorable week. George Lennox basked in the light of Mrs. Vane’s smiles, and his mother began to hope that Douglas would not take her at her word, but leave her son to woo and win the bonny widow, if he could. Earl watched and waited for Diana to relent, pleading with his eyes, though never a word of submission or appeal passed his lips. And poor Diana, hoping to conquer him, silenced the promptings of her reason, and stood firm, when a yielding look, a tender word, would have overcome his pride, and healed the breach. She suffered much, but told no one her pain till the last day came. Then, driven by the thought that a few hours would seal her fate, she resolved to appeal to Mrs. Vane. She knew the mystery; she professed to pity her. She was a woman, and to her this humiliation would not be so hard, this confession so impossible.

  Diana haunted the hall and drawing rooms all that morning, hoping to find Mrs. Vane alone. At last, just before lunch, she caught her playing with Earl’s spaniel, while she waited for Lennox to bring her hat from the garden seat where she had left it.

  “Be so kind as to take a turn with me on the balcony, Mrs. Vane. I wish much to say a few words to you,” began Diana, with varying color and anxious eyes, as she met her at the great hall door.

  “With pleasure. Give me your arm, and let us have our little chat quite comfortably together. Can I do anything for you, my dear Miss Stuart? Pray speak freely, and, believe me, I desire to be your friend.”

  So kind, so cordial was the tone, the look, that poor Diana felt comforted at once; and bending her stately head to the bright one at her side, she said, with a sad humility, which proved how entirely her love had subdued her pride, “I hope so, Mrs. Vane, for I need a friend. You, and you alone, can help me. I humble myself to you; I forget not my own misgivings. I endeavor to see in you only a woman younger, yet wiser than myself, who, knowing my sore necessity, will help me by confessing the share she bears in the secret that is destroying my peace.”

  “I wish I could! I wish I dared! I have thought of it often; have longed to do it at all costs; and then remembering my vow, I have held my peace!”

  “Assure me of one thing and I will submit. I will ask Allan to forgive me, and I will be happy in my ignorance, if I can. He told me that this mystery would not stain his honor, or mar my peace if it were known. Mrs. Vane, is this true?” asked Diana solemnly.

  “No; a man's honor is not tarnished in his eyes by treachery to a woman, and he believes that a woman's peace will not be marred by the knowledge that in God's sight she is not his wife, although she may be in the eyes of the world.”

  “Mrs. Vane, I conjure you to tell me what you mean! I have a right to know; it is your duty to save me from sin and sorrow if you can, and I will make any promise you exact to keep eternally secret whatever you may tell me. I
f you fear Douglas, he shall never know that you have broken your vow, whether I marry or discard him. Have pity upon me, I implore you, for this day must make or mar my life!”

  Few women could have withstood the desperate urgency of Diana's prayer; Mrs. Vane did not. A moment she stood, growing paler as some purpose took shape in her mind, then drew her companion onward, saying hurriedly, as George Lennox appeared in the avenue, “Invite me to drive out alone with you after lunch, and then you shall know all. But, O Miss Stuart, remember that you bring the sorrow upon yourself if you urge this disclosure. I cannot think it right to see you give yourself to this man without a protest; but you may curse me for destroying your faith in him, while powerless to kill your love. Go now, and if you retract your wish, be silent; I shall know.”

  They parted, and when Lennox came up, the balcony was deserted.

  “My love, you get so pale and spiritless that I am quite reconciled to our departure; for the air here does not suit you, and we must try the seashore,” said Mrs. Berkeley, as they rose from the table after lunch.

  “I shall be myself again soon, Aunt. I need more exercise, and if Mrs. Vane will allow me, I should enjoy a long drive with her this afternoon,” returned Diana, growing still paler as she spoke.

  Mrs. Vane bowed her acceptance, and as she left the room a curious shiver seemed to shake her from head to foot as she pressed her hands together and hurried to her chamber.

  The two ladies drove in silence, till Diana said abruptly, “I am ready, Mrs. Vane; tell me all, and spare nothing.”

  “Your solemn oath first, that living or dying, you will never reveal to any human soul what I shall tell you.” And as she spoke, Mrs. Vane extended her hand.

  Diana gave her own, and took the oath which the other well knew she would keep inviolate.

  “I shall not torture you by suspense,” Mrs. Vane began, “but show you at once why I would save you from a greater suffering than the loss of love. Miss Stuart, read that, and learn the mystery of your lovers life.”