The evening passed without incident, except that once again Marianne enjoyed a brief comforting talk with Dr. Gruffstone. She had always found the doctor helpful, even when he seemed suspicious of her; he radiated reliability and authority as a stove radiates warmth. On this occasion she felt that he was really beginning to consider her a friend, for he spoke, as he had never done before, of personal matters, especially of his son, who would soon be coming home. Though obviously proud of the young man's gallantry, he had nothing but criticism for the way matters had been handled in Afghanistan; he denounced the fighting there with his favorite phrase, "absolute balderdash!"
As Marianne started upstairs she heard the click of billiard balls from the room devoted to that entertainment and surmised that Carlton was working off whatever annoyed him in a typically masculine manner. He had hardly spoken all evening.
If she dreamed that night, she did not remember the dreams. But she woke with a strange feeling of heaviness and lay pondering the matter for some time before she realized what was troubling her. Today was Tuesday. The fateful anniversary was only three days off.
When she went to pay her morning call on the Duchess, she found her up and dressing, with the faithful Rose in attendance. The maid had evidently conquered her grief, but she had not gotten over her resentment of Marianne; her greeting was barely civil. The Duchess did not seem to notice.
"Enjoy the sunshine while it lasts, my child," she murmured. "It is all too brief…"
So Marianne left. Henry was lying in wait for her in the breakfast room. He barely allowed her time to eat before he demanded a repetition of the lawn-tennis game.
"A few more days of practice and you will be quite good at it," he remarked patronizingly. "For a girl, that is. Do hurry. I have been waiting ever so long."
Having nothing better to do, Marianne passed the morning with him. They returned to the house in time to see a hired carriage leaving. Henry craned his neck to see who was inside.
"My new tutor, I expect," he said. "Grandmother Honoria said one would be coming. That means I shall have only a few more days of holiday, Miss Ransom; we had better have another practice this afternoon."
"Impossible," Marianne said, laughing. "You know I am not as young as you; I have done quite enough for one day."
They were standing by the front steps, and as Henry argued his case Marianne fancied she saw a curtain in one of the upper windows move aside and a face peer out. Whether she was correct in identifying it she did not know; but it reminded her of poor timid Lady Violet, and she interrupted Henry with a firm "No, I really cannot. As for you, you ought to spend some time with your dear mama. That should be a pleasure as well as a duty."
"Oh." Henry thought a moment. "All right. She likes to read to me, and I don't mind it much… Thank you for your company, Miss Ransom. We must do it again sometime."
With a very dignified bow, he offered his arm and led her into the house.
The Duchess did not come down to luncheon, but Marianne found the doctor and Lady Annabelle deep in conversation. Lady Annabelle had taken advantage of the Duchess's absence to introduce several cats into the room, and Marianne was amused at the doctor's calm forbearance; he devoured his lunch quite unperturbed by the chorus of meows and by the sight of his namesake's tail waving like a banner above the edge of the table.
They were on the second course when the door opened and Carlton came in. He was wearing riding clothes and seemed to be in a particularly evil temper; with a sketchy bow toward Lady Annabelle and a gruff greeting to the others, he threw himself into a chair and demanded food.
The doctor stared at him in mild surprise. "Where have you been all morning? I had intended to challenge you to a game of billiards."
"I had an errand," Carlton replied, stabbing viciously at the piece of sole the footman had placed before him.
"Satisfactory, I hope?"
"Not at all."
The doctor raised his eyebrows and then turned to Lady Annabelle, inquiring politely about the health of Fluffy.
Since Marianne was not especially interested in Fluffy's health she ate in silence, wondering what Carlton was up to. He had taken several mysterious journeys lately. No doubt, she thought cynically, he is trying to find out something to my discredit.
Lady Annabelle never followed conventional social usage, and this occasion was no exception. Instead of giving the nods and winks that indicated to the ladies that it is time to retire, she rose abruptly midway through the last course. Remarking, "You are in a wretched mood, Carlton; you are making Horace the cat quite nervous; I shall go now," she took her departure, with the spoiled Horace in her arms. Caught unawares, Marianne started to rise too, but was waved back into her chair by the doctor.
"No need for ceremony," he grunted. "Eat your meal, child. What the dev- er – what is wrong with you, Roger? You may not be affecting that animal's nerves, but you are doing mine no good."
"Sorry." Carlton pushed his plate away. "To be candid, Gruffstone, I have taken a certain liberty and I don't know how you will react. I hope you will not be offended."
"What have you done?" the doctor inquired calmly.
"I have summoned Sir Walter Bliss to see the Duchess."
Carlton dropped the words like bullets and looked as if he expected an explosion to follow. Instead, after a look of unconcealed astonishment, the doctor's face broke into a broad smile.
"Splendid, my boy, splendid! How did you persuade Honoria to see him? I have been trying for months."
"I have not yet told her. I thought she could not send him away after he had come so far on her account."
"That was well thought of." The doctor tugged thoughtfully at his mustache. "It never occurred to me. Well – fools rush in, if you will forgive me, my boy. I could not be more pleased." Seeing Marianne's bafflement, he explained, "Sir Walter is probably the best heart specialist in England. I am mightily relieved to have a second opinion, I can tell you. When does he come?"
"This afternoon. I learned from an article in the Times that he was to be in Edinburgh this week, so I sent a telegram. I have just now received the answer."
"Splendid, splendid," the doctor repeated. "Who knows, perhaps he will have good news for us. I am only a simple general practitioner; I could be wrong. I hope I am."
Carlton seemed to be cast into even greater gloom by this genial pronouncement. Marianne waited until the doctor had left, to prepare for the visit of the specialist; then she said, "I suppose you will not care to ride this afternoon."
"Not with Sir Walter expected. I wish to hear what he has to say."
"You have no objection if I go alone?"
"Suit yourself," was the ungracious reply.
The dignified butler, obviously confused by the unconventional division of the luncheon party, brought in the port. Carlton gestured for his glass to be filled, and Marianne left him with the decanter before him.
Thinking Henry might like to join her in a ride, she went to the schoolroom. Nanny, nodding by the fire, told her the boy was with his mother, so Marianne was forced to request the company of one of the grooms. The menace from Bagshot had been removed, but she had not forgotten the Duchess's warning about getting lost.
The presence of the manservant, trotting respectfully behind her, took some of the pleasure from the ride and she cut it short, returning by way of the village. If she hoped to catch a glimpse of the vicar she was disappointed; but she did see something that surprised her – the black-clad visitor whom Carlton had suspected of being Bagshot in disguise. As on the previous occasion, he was walking away from her. Marianne urged Stella into a trot, hoping to overtake the man and see his face, but before she could catch him up he turned into the inn and disappeared. So she returned to the castle.
The Duchess's carriage, waiting before the castle, made her wonder who was about to go on a journey before she realized that it must have been sent to fetch the famous medical man. Handing her reins to the groom and giving Stella an affectionate pat, she h
urried in. She found Carlton in the library, pacing back and forth between the open door and the fireplace.
"What news?" she asked. "He has come, has he not? I saw the carriage -"
"He is with her now. I am waiting to catch him before he goes; he must return immediately to Edinburgh."
Marianne was tempted to join him in his agitated walk, but forced herself to take a chair.
"By the way," she remarked, "the gentleman who was staying at the Devenbrook Arms is still here. He was not Mr. Bagshot after all."
"I know. You were right in supposing that Bagshot would not venture into the neighborhood. The preliminary work was all done by his hired cutthroats; he did not come until the final hour."
His tone made it clear that he had nothing more to say on that subject, so Marianne did not break the silence again. It went on for quite some time before they heard footsteps and low voices, one that of Dr. Gruff-stone, the other unfamiliar.
Carlton bolted out the door without bothering to close it. Marianne remained where she was; she did not feel she had the right to intrude on such a meeting. However, she listened intently, and when she heard the front door open and close, she ran out.
Carlton was alone. He stood with his back toward her, but she did not need to see his face to know that the news had been bad. The droop of his shoulders, his hands clenched on the newel post, were eloquent enough.
She had not realized until then how much he had hoped for a reversal of Gruffstone's diagnosis. As she stood staring at Carlton, who had obviously not heard her approach, and wishing she dared comfort him, the front door opened and Gruffstone entered.
"I have seen Sir Walter off," he explained. "And thanked him again for coming so far."
"Then -" Marianne began.
Gruffstone shook his head. "He was kind enough to commend my medical knowledge. It was small comfort to me, I assure you. Excuse me; I must go to her now."
He went heavily up the stairs. Carlton straightened but did not turn, and something in the set of his shoulders told Marianne she had better not speak to him. So she went to her room and wept.
Later the Duchess summoned her, and Marianne was struck by the fact that of all the people in the house the dying woman seemed least concerned with her fate. The Duchess was, in fact, in a cheerful mood, which was explained when she remarked casually, "I have seen David. He does not seem to have aged at all, but then that is to be expected."
Rose, arranging the tea-things, dropped a saucer.
"Take yourself off, you clumsy creature," the Duchess said amiably. "After all these years, one would think…"
"You dreamed," Marianne said, as poor Rose stumbled toward the door.
"Oh, yes; that is the common term for such visions." After the door had closed she added rather irritably, "I find Rose a trial of late. If she is not dropping things, she is crying."
"She is devoted to you," Marianne said. "And, like the rest of us, she is deeply concerned -"
"But why? I am happier now than I have been for many years. If you could only have faith! Gruffstone particularly – he is a medical man, he of all people should be able to accept the fact that I must die sometime."
"But not now!" Marianne exclaimed. "You are willing yourself to die! You might live for months, years -"
"I don't want to," the Duchess said simply. "I want only one thing – the knowledge that David will be there to guide me over the threshold." Suddenly and alarmingly the look of peace faded from her face and was replaced by an expression of a most pitiful terror. "My faith is weak," she said rapidly. "I am afraid – I confess it. I know what awaits me, I believe in Paradise… but my body trembles in the fear of dissolution. If I could see David, feel his hand reaching out for me… You won't deny me that, Marianne? You could not be so cruel. Promise – promise me -"
In her agitation she struggled forward, and Marianne realized in horror that she was about to fall to her knees. She caught the thin, shaking shoulders and forced the Duchess back into her chair.
"I will promise anything you like. Anything. Be calm, I beg you. You have my word."
"Thank you." After a few seconds Marianne felt the old woman's rigid limbs relax.
"I will fetch Dr. Gruffstone," she said.
"No." The Duchess forced a smile. "I am better now. Horace can do me no good. You alone can help me. You have helped me."
"A glass of brandy, then," Marianne said desperately.
"A cup of tea will be splendid." The Duchess brushed her hand across her brow and spoke in almost her normal voice. "There. I am quite myself again. Let us eat all those delicious little cakes and drink our tea and have a game of backgammon. What do you say?"
Marianne felt as if the rich pastry would make her sick, and she went down to ignominious defeat in the game. The Duchess ignored her mood. She laughed and ate and moved the pieces with her old animation. To Marianne the spectacle was dreadful. The promise she had made lay like a heavy weight on her heart.
She knew now that she had clung to the hope that she would not be forced to go through the next – perhaps the last – attempt to reach the spirit of David Holmes; that the Duchess would not ask it of her, that Gruffstone would forbid it, that Carlton would think of some means of preventing it. Now she was committed. That agonized plea could not be denied. Only how on earth could she produce the evidence the Duchess longed for? Should she attempt to produce it by trickery? It seemed that whatever she did was bound to be disastrous.
The Duchess decided to dine in her room, and Marianne did the same. She simply could not face the glum looks of the two men, or Lady Annabelle's idiot indifference. After she had crumbled her bread and pushed the food around her plate, she decided to see what Henry was doing. Perhaps she could read him a story, or play chess with him.
She was wearing soft house slippers and her feet fell lightly on the carpet of the corridor. As she approached the door of the schoolroom, she saw light and realized that the door was open. Standing unseen in its shadow she beheld the scene within.
Lady Violet sat by the fire. For once she wore no veil or cap, and her hair was pushed back from her face, which wore a look of such peace and happiness that to Marianne it appeared quite beautiful, despite its physical defect. Perched on a stool by the lady's side, leaning against her skirts, sat the young Duke. He was reading aloud to her, and her hand rested lightly on his dark hair.
"So the prince said, 'Oh, lovely lady, I have been searching throughout my kingdom for a maiden who can wear this slipper.' "
Marianne felt tears prick her eyes. Pressing her skirts close to her sides, so that no betraying rustle would give her presence away, she retreated as silently as she had come.
Next day Marianne had to force herself to pay her usual morning call on the Duchess. One of the worst features of the whole affair was the growing ambivalence of her attitude toward her kind patroness, for she felt an increasing resentment, almost anger, at being forced into such an impossible position. She made her escape as soon as she could.
Henry was waiting for her, and they had another strenuous game of lawn tennis. Marianne finally called a halt when her fingers, in their thin kid gloves, became too numb to hold the racket. The day was much colder than the one before, and toward the end of the morning the sunlight vanished behind rolling gray clouds.
"It looks like snow." Henry said gleefully. "We will build a snow fort and go sledding. I know a splendid place for it."
Marianne was amused at the boy's bland assumption that she had become his permanent playmate. There was no reason to disillusion him, she thought; reality would come soon enough, in the form of a new tutor, for the Duchess had told her she expected to interview another candidate that morning.
Looking for something to distract her mind from the dread event that was coming even closer, she lingered in the hall hoping to catch a glimpse of the prospective tutor. Any new face would be a welcome change.
She was about to give up and go to her room to change when the door of th
e library opened and Carlton appeared. He gave an exaggerated start of surprise at seeing her and exclaimed, "Oh, there you are. I was about to… that is… where have you been?"
Marianne gazed at him in astonishment. His incoherent speech, his flushed face, and a certain air of suppressed excitement immediately aroused the suspicion that he had been drinking. Before she could answer he took her by the arm and fairly dragged her into the library.
"This is Mr. MacGregor," he said, indicating the young man who had politely risen from his chair. "Miss Ransom, Mr. MacGregor. Perhaps you would – er – entertain him, I must… I must go on an errand."
Upon which he rushed out, leaving Marianne staring. An amused chuckle from Mr. MacGregor made her turn.
"What an excitable, enthusiastic fellow!" he exclaimed. "But I can't complain of the change; may I offer you a chair, Miss Ransom?"
Marianne sat down. Mr. MacGregor must be the newest applicant for the position of tutor, she decided.
She took an immediate liking to him. He was a tall young man with an open, freckled face. One of his front teeth was chipped, giving his smile a boyish, lopsided charm. His speech was educated, with just a trace of Scottish burr.
"What was that all about?" she asked, nodding at the door through which Carlton had disappeared.
"I cannot imagine. We were talking about this and that, when all at once he bounded up and rushed away. I take it he is not always so impulsive? It is an attractive quality in itself, but I should think it would be a disadvantage in a man of the law."
His eyes twinkled with such frank amusement that Marianne could not help smiling. "I take it," she said, "that you are the new tutor."
"I hope I may be. The position appeals to me very much. My home is in Sterling, only an hour's ride away, and I have a widowed mother who would like to have me so close. Also, I find the Duke a most appealing little chap. There is a good brain there; it would be a challenge to work with it."
Marianne liked him more and more. The enthusiasm glowing in his eyes was that of a dedicated teacher.
"You know of His Grace's – difficulty?" she inquired.
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