CAPTAIN DE BARON.
Of course as the next day or two passed by, the condition of Mrs.
Houghton was discussed between Lord George and his wife. The affair
could not be passed over without further speech. "I am quite contented
with you," he said; "more than contented. But I suppose she does not
feel herself contented with Mr. Houghton."
"Then why did she marry him?"
"Ah;--why indeed."
"A woman ought to be contented with her husband. But at any rate what
right can she have to disturb other people? I suppose you never wrote
her a love-letter."
"Never, certainly;--since her marriage." This indeed was true. The lady
had frequently written to him, but he had warily kept his hands from
pen and ink and had answered her letters by going to her.
"And yet she could persevere! Women can do such mean things! I would
sooner have broken my heart and died than have asked a man to say that
he loved me. I don't suppose you have much to be proud of. I daresay
she has half a dozen others. You won't see her again?"
"I think I may be driven to do so. I do not wish to have to write to
her, and yet I must make her understand that all this is to be over."
"She'll understand that fast enough when she does not see you. It would
have served her right to have sent that letter to her husband."
"That would have been cruel, Mary."
"I didn't do it. I thought of doing it, and wouldn't do it. But it
would have served her right. I suppose she was always writing."
"She had written, but not quite like that," said Lord George. He was
not altogether comfortable during this conversation.
"She writes lots of such letters no doubt. You do then mean to go there
again?"
"I think so. Of course I do not look upon her as being so utterly a
castaway as you do."
"I believe her to be a heartless, vile, intriguing woman, who married
an old man without caring a straw for him, and who doesn't care how
miserable she makes other people. And I think she is very--very ugly.
She paints frightfully. Anybody can see it. And as for false
hair,--why, it's nearly all false." Lady George certainly did not
paint, and had not a shred of false hair about her. "Oh, George, if you
do go, do be firm! You will be firm;--will you not?"
"I shall go simply that this annoyance may be at an end."
"Of course you will tell her that I will never speak to her again. How
could I? You would not wish it;--would you?" In answer to this there
was nothing for him to say. He would have wished that a certain amount
of half friendly intercourse should be carried on; but he could not ask
her to do this. After a time he might perhaps be able to press on her
the advantage of avoiding a scandal, but as yet he could not do even
that. He had achieved more than he had a right to expect in obtaining
her permission to call once more in Berkeley Square himself. After that
they would soon be going down to Brotherton, and when they were there
things might be allowed to settle themselves. Then she asked him
another question. "You don't object to my going to Mrs. Jones' party on
Thursday?"
The question was very sudden, so that he was almost startled. "It is a
dance, I suppose."
"Oh yes, a dance of course."
"No;--I have no objection."
She had meant to ask him to reconsider his verdict against round
dances, but she could hardly do so at this moment. She could not take
advantage of her present strength to extract from him a privilege which
under other circumstances he had denied to her. Were she to do so it
would be as much as to declare that she meant to waltz because he had
amused himself with Mrs. Houghton. Her mind was not at all that way
given. But she did entertain an idea that something more of freedom
should be awarded to her because her husband had given her cause of
offence and had been forgiven. While he was still strong with that
divine superiority which she had attributed to him, she had almost
acknowledged to herself that he had a right to demand that she should
be dull and decorous. But now that she had found him to be in the
receipt of clandestine love-letters, it did seem that she might allow
herself a little liberty. She had forgiven him freely. She had really
believed that in spite of the letter she herself was the woman he
loved. She had said something to herself about men amusing themselves,
and had told herself that though no woman could have written such a
letter as that without disgracing herself altogether, a man might
receive it and even keep it in his pocket without meaning very much
harm. But the accident must, she thought, be held to absolve her from
some part of the strictness of her obedience. She almost thought that
she would waltz at Mrs. Jones's ball; perhaps not with Captain De
Baron; perhaps not with much energy or with full enjoyment; but still
sufficiently to disenthral herself. If possible she would say a word to
her husband first. They were both going to a rather crowded affair at
Lady Brabazon's before the night of Mrs. Jones's party. They had agreed
that they would do little more than shew themselves there. He was
obliged to go to this special place and he hated staying. But even at
Lady Brabazon's she might find an opportunity of saying what she wished
to say.
On that day she took him out in her brougham, and on her return home
was alone all the afternoon till about five; and then who should come
to her but Captain De Baron. No doubt they two had become very
intimate. She could not at all have defined her reasons for liking him.
She was quite sure of one thing,--she was not in the least in love with
him. But he was always gay, always good humoured, always had plenty to
say. He was the source of all the fun that ever came in her way; and
fun was very dear to her. He was nice-looking and manly, and gentle
withal. Why should she not have her friend? He would not write
abominable letters and ask her to say that she loved him! And yet she
was aware that there was a danger. She knew that her husband was a
little jealous. She knew that Augusta Mildmay was frightfully jealous.
That odious creature Mrs. Houghton had made ever so many nasty little
allusions to her and Jack. When his name was announced she almost
wished that he had not come; but yet she received him very pleasantly.
He immediately began about the Baroness Banmann. The Baroness had on
the previous evening made her way on to the platform at the
Disabilities when Dr. Fleabody was lecturing, and Lady Selina was
presiding and had, to use Jack's own words, "Kicked up the most
delightful bobbery that had ever been witnessed! She bundled poor old
Lady Selina out of the chair."
"Nonsense!"
"So I am told;--took the chair by the back and hoisted her out."
"Didn't they send for the police?"
"I suppose they did at last; but the American doctor was too many for
her. The Baroness strove to address the meeting; but Olivia Q. Fleabody
has become a favourite, and carried the day. I am told that at last the
bald-headed old gentleman took the Baroness home in a cab. I'd have
given a five-pound note to be there. I think I must go some night and
hear the Doctor."
"I wouldn't go again for anything."
"You women are all so jealous of each other. Poor Lady Selina! I'm told
she was very much shaken."
"How did you hear it all?"
"From Aunt Ju," said the Captain. "Aunt Ju was there, of course. The
Baroness tried to fly into Aunt Ju's arms, but Aunt Ju seems to have
retired."
Then the quarrel must have been made up between Captain De Baron and
Miss Mildmay. That was the idea which at once came into Mary's head. He
could hardly have seen Aunt Ju without seeing her niece at the same
time. Perhaps it was all settled. Perhaps, after all, they would be
married. It would be a pity, because she was not half nice enough for
him. And then Mary doubted whether Captain De Baron as a married man
would be nearly so pleasant as in his present condition. "I hope Miss
Mildmay is none the worse," she said.
"A little shaken in her nerves."
"Was--Augusta Mildmay there?"
"Oh dear no. It is quite out of her line. She is not at all disposed to
lay aside the feeblenesses of her sex and go into one of the learned
professions. By the bye, I am afraid you and she are not very good
friends."
"What makes you say that, Captain De Baron?"
"But are you?"
"I don't know why you should enquire."
"It is natural to wish that one's own friends should be friends."
"Has Miss Mildmay said--anything about--me?"
"Not a word;--nor you about her. And, therefore, I know that something
is wrong."
"The last time I saw her I did not think that Miss Mildmay was very
happy," said Mary, in a low voice.
"Did she complain to you?" Mary had no answer ready for this question.
She could not tell a lie easily, nor could she acknowledge the
complaint which the lady had made, and had made so loudly. "I suppose
she did complain," he said, "and I suppose I know the nature of her
complaint."
"I cannot tell;--though, of course, it was nothing to me."
"It is very much to me, though. I wish, Lady George, you could bring
yourself to tell me the truth." He paused, but she did not speak. "If
it were as I fear, you must know how much I am implicated. I would not
for the world that you should think I am behaving badly."
"You should not permit her to think so, Captain De Baron."
"She doesn't think so. She can't think so. I am not going to say a word
against her. She and I have been dear friends, and there is no
one,--hardly any one,--for whom I have a greater regard. But I do
protest to you, Lady George, that I have never spoken an untrue word to
Augusta Mildmay in my life."
"I have not accused you."
"But has she? Of course it is a kind of thing that a man cannot talk
about without great difficulty."
"Is it not a thing that a man should not talk about at all?"
"That is severe, Lady George;--much more severe than I should have
expected from your usual good nature. Had you told me that nothing had
been said to you, there would have been an end of it. But I cannot bear
to think that you should have been told that I had behaved badly, and
that I should be unable to vindicate myself."
"Have you not been engaged to marry Miss Mildmay?"
"Never."
"Then why did you allow yourself to become so--so much to her?"
"Because I liked her. Because we were thrown together. Because the
chances of things would have it so. Don't you know that that kind of
thing is occurring every day? Of course, if a man were made up of
wisdom and prudence and virtue and self-denial, this kind of thing
wouldn't occur. But I don't think the world would be pleasanter if men
were like that. Adelaide Houghton is Miss Mildmay's most intimate
friend, and Adelaide has always known that I couldn't marry." As soon
as Mrs. Houghton's name was mentioned a dark frown came across Lady
George's brow. Captain De Baron saw it, but did not as yet know
anything of its true cause.
"Of course I am not going to judge between you," said Lady George, very
gravely.
"But I want you to judge me. I want you of all the world to feel that I
have not been a liar and a blackguard."
"Captain De Baron! how can you use such language?"
"Because I feel this very acutely. I do believe that Miss Mildmay has
accused me to you. I do not wish to say a word against her. I would do
anything in the world to protect her from the ill words of others. But
I cannot bear that your mind should be poisoned against me. Will you
believe me when I tell you that I have never said a word to Miss
Mildmay which could possibly be taken as an offer of marriage?"
"I had rather give no opinion."
"Will you ask Adelaide?"
"No; certainly not." This she said with so much vehemence that he was
thoroughly startled. "Mrs. Houghton is not among the number of my
acquaintances."
"Why not? What is the matter?"
"I can give no explanation, and I had rather that no questions should
be asked. But so it is."
"Has she offended Lord George?"
"Oh dear no; that is to say I cannot tell you anything more about it.
You will never see me in Berkeley Square again. And now, pray say no
more about it."
"Poor Adelaide. Well; it does seem terrible that there should be such
misunderstandings. She knows nothing about it. I was with her this
morning, and she was speaking of you with the greatest affection." Mary
struggled hard to appear indifferent to all this, but struggled in
vain. She could not restrain herself from displaying her feeling. "May
I not ask any further questions?"
"No, Captain De Baron."
"Nor hope that I may be a peacemaker between you?"
"Certainly not. I wish you wouldn't talk about it any more."
"I certainly will not if it offends you. I would not offend you for all
the world. When you came up to town, Lady George, a few months ago,
there were three or four of us that soon became such excellent friends!
And now it seems that everything has gone wrong. I hope we need not
quarrel--you and I?"
"I know no reason why we should."
"I have liked you so much. I am sure you have known that. Sometimes one
does come across a person that one really likes; but it is so seldom."
"I try to like everybody," she said.
"I don't do that. I fear that at first starting I try to dislike
everybody. I think it is natural to hate people the first time you see
them."
"Did you hate me?" she asked, laughing.
"Oh, horribly,--for two minutes. Then you laughed, or cried, or
sneezed, or did something in a manner that I liked, and I saw at once
that you were the most charming human being in the world."
When a young man tells a young woman that she is the most charming
human being in the world, he is certainly using peculiar language. In
most cases the young man would be supposed to be making love to the
young woman. Mary, however, knew very well that Captain De Baron was
not making love to her. There seemed to be an understanding that all
manner of things should be said between them, and that yet they should
mean nothing. But, nevertheless, she felt that the language which this
man had used to her would be offensive to her husband if he knew that
it had been used when they two were alone together. Had it been said
before a room-full of people it would not have mattered. And yet she
could not rebuke him. She could not even look displeased. She had
believed all that he had said to her about Augusta Mildmay, and was
glad to believe it. She liked him so much, that she would have spoken
to him as to a brother of the nature of her quarrel with Mrs. Houghton,
only that, even to a brother, she would not have mentioned her
husband's folly. When he spoke of her crying, or laughing, or sneezing,
she liked the little attempt at drollery. She liked to know that he had
found her charming. Where is the woman who does not wish to charm, and
is not proud to think that she has succeeded with those whom she most
likes? She could not rebuke him. She could not even avoid letting him
see that she was pleased. "You have a dozen human beings in the world
who are the most delightful," she said, "and another dozen who are the
most odious."
"Quite a dozen who are the most odious, but only one, Lady George, who
is the most delightful." He had hardly said this when the door opened
and Lord George entered the room. Lord George was not a clever
hypocrite. If he disliked a person he soon showed his dislike in his
manner. It was very clear to both of them on the present occasion that
he did not like the presence of Captain De Baron. He looked very
gloomy,--almost angry, and after speaking hardly more than a single
word to his wife's guest, he stood silent and awkward, leaning against
the mantel-piece. "What do you think Captain De Baron tells me?" Mary
said, trying, but not very successfully, to speak with natural ease.
"I don't in the least know."
"There has been such a scene at the Women's Institute! That Baroness
made a dreadful attack on poor Lady Selina Protest."
"She and the American female doctor were talking against each other
from the same platform, at the same time," said De Baron.
"Very disgraceful!" said Lord George. "But then the whole thing is
disgraceful, and always was. I should think Lord Plausible must be
thoroughly ashamed of his sister." Lady Selina was sister to the Earl
of Plausible, but, as all the world knew, was not on speaking terms
with her brother.
"I suppose that unfortunate German lady will be put in prison," said
Lady George.
"I only trust she may never be able to put her foot into your house
again."
Then there was a pause. He was apparently so cross that conversation
seemed to be impossible. The Captain would have gone away at once had
he been able to escape suddenly. But there are times when it is very
hard to get out of a room, at which a sudden retreat would imply a
conviction that something was wrong. It seemed to him that for her sake
he was bound to remain a few minutes longer. "When do you go down to
Brothershire?" he asked.
"About the 7th of July," said Mary.
"Or probably earlier," said Lord George;--at which his wife looked up
at him, but without making any remark.
"I shall be down at my cousin's place some day in August," De Baron
said. Lord George frowned more heavily than ever. "Mr. De Baron is
going to have a large gathering of people about the end of the month."
"Oh, indeed," said Mary.
"The Houghtons will be there." Then Mary also frowned. "And I have an
idea that your brother, Lord George, has half promised to be one of the
party."
"I know nothing at all about it."
"My cousin was up in town yesterday with the Houghtons. Good-bye, Lady
George; I shan't be at Lady Brabazon's, because she has forgotten to
invite me, but I suppose I shall see you at Mrs. Montacute Jones'?"
"I shall certainly be at Mrs. Montacute Jones'," said Mary, trying to
speak cheerfully.
The bell was rang and the door was closed, and then the husband and
wife were together. "A dreadful communication has just been made to
me," said Lord George in his most solemn and funereal voice;--"a most
dreadful communication!"