Percy found his mission exactly to his liking, and his prestige was
steadily increased by his management of affairs. It even met with the
approval of Lord Baudesert, who found himself unable to keep away from
his beloved Washington. Mrs. Chantrey, whose hopes of being an
Ambassadress had been dashed by Lord Baudesert's retirement, still
cherished dreams of being Lady Baudesert, and was warmly encouraged in
her aspirations by that wicked old gentleman during his whole visit to
Washington. Eleanor Chantrey had remained unmarried. Her beauty and
her fortune would have enabled her to make a choice of many brilliant
marriages, but deep in her heart rankled something like disappointment.
She had not been in love with Sir Percy Carlyon, but she would have
married him if he had asked her, an attitude of mind commoner among
women towards men than is generally supposed. Eleanor was certainly
fitted to be an Ambassadress, but Lady Carlyon had fitted herself with
consummate address for that lofty position. Lord Baudesert was openly
delighted at the position which Lady Carlyon had made for herself. Her
dignity, her sweetness and good sense had given her also a prestige
which made her backing of the greatest value. Every woman in Washington
society whose social and personal record was not like the driven snow
was eager for the support of Lady Carlyon. With natural good judgment
and acquired prudence Lady Lucy, as Lord Baudesert, like Sir Percy,
called her, managed to escape every pitfall. She could neither be used,
nor worked, wheedled, nor bullied, but pursued a course inspired alike
by good taste and good feeling. Her two boys increased day by day in
beauty and intelligence, and Sir Percy would have reckoned himself among
the happiest as well as the most successful of men but for the memory of
Alicia March. He was haunted by the thought, not without reason, that
he was responsible for the tragedy which had befallen Roger March. He
could readily imagine the motive which inspired March, and the thought
of him dragged down by his wife's dishonour, seeking oblivion in the
farthest corner of the continent, was a keen and ever-present regret to
Sir Percy Carlyon. He had heard occasionally from General Talbott, who
was abroad with his daughter. The great March house remained closed but
tenantless, and Sir Percy surmised that Alicia March would in time
return to the scene of her greatest triumphs and her deepest
humiliation.
The echoes of the great railway scandal lasted during all of these two
years and a half. Colegrove was not the man to go down without a
terrific struggle. March's acknowledgment of the charges and his
resignation would have been too strong for any except the strongest of
men to withstand, but Colegrove, finding himself with his back to the
wall, fought with a desperation worthy of a better cause. He had the
money, the courage and the adroitness to drag everything into the
courts, where the law's delay was a great help to him. So many powerful
interests were involved that they made a bulwark around him. At the end
of the two years and a half he was actually in much better case than he
had been when he had first been pinned to the wall by his enemies, and
his supply of ammunition had been increased. He had succeeded, by
pouring out money like water, in enmeshing everybody and everything in a
legal tangle from which no one could see a way out. His natural genius
for making money was such that he could always contrive to make vast
sums, and the wonder was, as with a clever pickpocket, why he did not
satisfy himself with the brilliant success he could have made
legitimately. Every two or three months during that time he
communicated with Alicia March. He had an apparent reason for doing so,
as he represented that the stocks held for her in his name were always
earning dividends, and every letter contained a cheque. One of these
letters informed her that his wife had got a divorce from him. The poor
lady had in truth been goaded into it. Alicia March made no reference
to this in the brief replies she sent to his letters.
*XIII*
One afternoon in December, nearly three years after Mrs. March had left
Washington, Lady Carlyon was driving through the fashionable street in
which the March house was situated. Lord Baudesert, who was on his
annual visit to Washington, was in the carriage with her.
"Look, my Lady Lucy!" he said; "Mrs. March has come back, like another
Joan of Arc, to defy her enemies. By Jupiter! that woman is as brave as
Hector and Lord Nelson rolled in one. I have heard some pretty stories
about her."
Some of these stories related to Lady Carlyon's husband, but Lord
Baudesert gave no hint of this. Lady Carlyon glanced out of the
carriage window and saw that the splendid March house was occupied. A
handsome carriage, with a pink and white footman and coachman to match
exactly, was standing before the door, and at that moment Alicia March,
accompanied by General Talbott, came out and entered the carriage. Lady
Carlyon, whose eyes were quick, got a brief but complete view of her.
"She seems quite unchanged," said Lady Carlyon to Lord Baudesert, "and
doesn't look a day older than when she left Washington."
"How keen you women are about this thing of looks," replied Lord
Baudesert, his black eyes twinkling under his beetling brows.
"It is you who make us value our youth and looks so much," said Lady
Carlyon in response, smiling and composed, though all the while her
heart was beating with pain--pain for herself and for her husband.
"Mrs. March, I see, has brought Talbott with her, and Talbott's backing,
I take it, is worth that of ten ordinary men with pistols in their
pockets," was Lord Baudesert's next remark.
"Sir Percy can never forget his obligations to General Talbott," replied
Lady Carlyon.
"And Alicia March won't let him forget them if he would." Then,
catching sight of Mrs. Chantrey taking her constitutional, Lord
Baudesert halted the carriage, scrambled out, and was soon promenading
up and down Connecticut Avenue with that eternally hopeful lady, to her
undisguised rapture. She lamented to Lord Baudesert Eleanor's hardness
of heart toward the other sex, and Lord Baudesert was lauding the
unexpected good sense of the three Vereker girls, each one of whom had
married a curate, and could not expect to do any better.
Lady Carlyon, when she reached home, and was alone with her husband,
told him of the new arrivals.
"You must prepare to meet them," she said resolutely, "and even to have
them to dinner."
Sir Percy sighed heavily.
"What have I not brought upon you, my poor child?" he said.
"Nothing I cannot bear," responded Lady Carlyon.
Three days afterwards the expected happened--Alicia March and General
Talbott called at the British Embassy. They came at an hour when they
were sure to find the Carlyons at home. As Lady Carlyon had said, Mrs.
March gave no outward sign of the stress and storm through which she
must have passed. She and Lady Carlyon met and talked as do two women
of the world who mutually hate and distrust each other, but who expect
to meet at dinner. Mrs. March spoke pleasantly of her travels with her
father. They had spent two winters in Egypt, and their summers cruising
on the Dalmatian coast, but, after all, she said, Washington was the
most agreeable place of all the winter resorts she had ever known, and
she had determined to pass her winters there hereafter. She did not
tell Lady Carlyon of the strange desire she felt to get back to the same
orbit in which Sir Percy moved, nor of the equally strange inability she
had to forget her husband. She had every reason to remain abroad, where
the catastrophe of her Washington life was little known, and where the
prestige of her father's name was greater and more general, but that
strange instinct which makes a murderer return to the scene of his crime
will always make a woman like Alicia March return to the scene of her
adventures.
Lady Carlyon said to the General what she could not very well avoid
saying, that she hoped he would soon come to dine with them, but named
no date. It required all Sir Percy's self-control to prevent General
Talbott from seeing how unwelcome his daughter was at the British
Embassy. Nevertheless, this was accomplished, and after a longish visit
General Talbott went away feeling that in Sir Percy and Lady Carlyon his
poor Alicia had two staunch friends.
There was, however, no escape for the Carlyons for the dinner invitation
to Alicia March with General Talbott, and a few days afterwards it was
despatched and promptly accepted. Mrs. March's presence at the British
Embassy did much to re-establish her, for there were many persons,
especially in public life, who surmised the truth, and that Roger March
was simply lying like a gentleman when he took the blame upon himself.
The smart set, however, does not always keep labels on public men and
things, and besides its members have short memories. Roger March's name
was never mentioned by his wife or in her presence; Alicia March took up
the attitude of an injured woman who bears in silence the defection of
her husband; therefore, by the exercise of tact, courage and industry,
knowing where to leave cards and where not, she found herself steadily
regaining her former position in Washington society. When it was
getting on best, however, it was suddenly retarded by the appearance of
Colegrove, and his frequent visits to Mrs. March. Alicia knew the world
too well not to understand the risk of any association with Colegrove.
But Colegrove, himself, had impressed upon her at his first visit that
she must assume the attitude of a perfectly innocent woman and not
decline his visits. He had in him such power of coercing her that
Alicia accepted his views, as most others did when brought into contact
with him.
Alicia never saw him alone--she always had her father to act as
sheepdog. When General Talbott was not at home Colegrove was always
informed that Mrs. March asked to be excused. Colegrove took his rebuffs
coolly, and continued to call during the visiting hours when he was
likely to be seen at Mrs. March's door. He was in the act of pulling the
bell on the day when Lady Carlyon called to leave cards on Mrs. March.
Twice afterwards in the same week Lady Carlyon saw Colegrove evidently
coming from Mrs. March's house, and she spoke of it to Sir Percy. The
very next day came a dinner invitation from Alicia March asking Lady
Carlyon to name an evening when she and Sir Percy could dine with Mrs.
March and General Talbott. Sir Percy ground his teeth when Lady Carlyon
was writing a conventional note of acceptance, naming a date some weeks
ahead.
The week before the dinner a note came from Lady Carlyon saying that Sir
Percy and herself were asked to the White House to meet a distinguished
Englishman visiting the United States, and must, therefore, ask to be
excused from Mrs. March's dinner. Alicia replied with an equally
conventional note. A fortnight later she called at the Embassy, and
with her sweetest voice and manner asked Lady Carlyon to name another
date for dining with her. Again Lady Carlyon named a date. The morning
of the dinner Sir Percy went into his wife's boudoir, and after standing
silent for a while with an angry and sombre face, said to her:
"I can't have you dining with Alicia March. I always hated it, and I
find that man Colegrove is at her house a great deal. You must have a
headache, cold or something by which you can excuse yourself. I will
go; I am not better than Alicia March, but you are ten thousand times
better than she."
Usually Lady Carlyon could reason with her husband, but on this occasion
he was quite intractable. Lady Carlyon therefore wrote a note of excuse
and secluded herself for the day, alleging illness. Sir Percy went to
the dinner, and found an odd conglomeration of guests, very much like
that collected by the rich man in the Bible for his son's wedding.
Alicia was perfectly conscious of the collection she had made, but bore
herself with her usual dignity and outward composure. Even General
Talbott, who had felt a secret uneasiness concerning Alicia's reception
in Washington, was conscious that her dinner guests were of a somewhat
mixed variety, and hinted as much to her the next day. He even
mentioned that Colegrove's visits to the house might be misunderstood.
Alicia was of the same opinion. Colegrove still possessed for her the
interest a woman feels for a man who is deeply interested in her, and,
besides, Colegrove was the only man she had ever known who understood
her inability to make any income she might have meet her expenses. He
never scolded her, but seemed to think her continual want of money an
amiable weakness. Nevertheless Alicia, growing frightened at the
changing attitude of society toward her, wrote a note to Colegrove
imploring him not to come again to see her. In reply, Colegrove called
to ask for an explanation. He caught Alicia just as she was entering
the house. Without waiting for an invitation, he walked into the great
drawing-room, where their last private interview had occurred, nearly
three years before.
"Of course," said Alicia, when they were out of hearing, though not out
of sight, "you are trying to compromise me."
"All is fair in love," replied Colegrove calmly; "you had better let me
come openly, and ask me to dinner."
Alicia would make no promise, but when she was alone in her boudoir she
reflected upon the strangeness of the American character. Two Americans
loved her; one had made a stupendous sacrifice for her, and the other
was pursuing her with an ingenuity of persistence, a handiness of
resource, which was new and puzzling to her English mind. And then as
women do who know how to think, she began to consider with a kind of sad
wonder why she could not emancipate herself from the influence of
Colegrove, and from that of Sir Percy Carlyon, and, what was strangest
of all, from the memory of Roger March, and did not realise that men
only have the art of forgetting.
"No woman, alas! forgets," she thought to herself, and, rising, went to
her husband's rooms, and, closing the door after her, she walked about
them aimlessly. Roger March had done her a fearful injury; such
quixotism as his could benefit no one. She felt a deep resentment
against him, but that was far from forgetting him. In the four years
and a half of her life with Roger March there had been a continual sense
of discomfort; his personality, agreeable though it was, seemed
perpetually at war with her secret self. She had taken him as the
necessary adjunct of his fortune, and she should have been glad to get
rid of him, if only she could forget him. But she found herself
continually thinking about him, wondering what kind of existence he led,
and if he ever felt any regret as to what he had done. She had thought
herself the coolest-headed and best-balanced of women, but she seemed,
as she grew older, to be losing rather than gaining her self-possession.
Things had come to such a pass by the end of the season that Alicia was
slipping back socially. One thing which she felt necessary for her to
do, if she was to remain in Washington, was to have Lady Carlyon seen at
her house. She could not for ever go on giving invitations which were
cleverly evaded. The only thing was to seek Lady Carlyon and bring the
matter to an issue. To do this it would be necessary to take Lady
Carlyon unawares, for she would certainly excuse herself if Mrs. March
called at the Embassy at an unusual time, and there would be no chance
for her if she went at the customary visiting hour. Alicia therefore
watched for her opportunity and determined to seize it anywhere and at
any time. It came most unexpectedly.
One night she and General Talbott were at the theatre, and when the
first act of the play was half over Sir Percy and Lady Carlyon appeared
in an upper box alone. Sir Percy, after seating his wife comfortably,
said a few words and went out, carrying his hat and great-coat. Lady
Carlyon, sitting far back in the box, watched the play and was quite
unobserved by any one in the audience except Alicia March. When General
Talbott went out of the theatre after the curtain came down on the first
act, Alicia, seeing the way clear before her, climbed the narrow stairs
to the box and walked in on Lady Carlyon. Never did Lady Carlyon have a
more unwelcome guest, or one with whom she less desired a private
conversation. She greeted Alicia politely, however, and said:
"Sir Percy will return in a little while. He had an appointment for
half-an-hour this evening, and brought me to the play to await him."
"I am very glad," replied Alicia in her sweetest voice, "that he is
absent, because I wish to ask you a question of the most private
nature."
Then she took a chair, and the two women, each perfect mistress of
herself, began the duello. "It is," continued Alicia softly, "whether
you have any real objection to entering my house?"
Lady Carlyon remained silent, and after a minute Alicia March spoke
again:
"I see you have; I may as well speak frankly. As an Englishwoman, and
strangely situated as I am, I can't expect any recognition if the
British Ambassador, who is supposed to be one of my oldest
acquaintances, and certainly my father's greatest friend, refuses to
allow his wife, or his wife refuses, to come to my house. It is not much
to ask."
"Sir Percy feels that it is a great deal to ask," replied Lady Carlyon,
a faint colour appearing in her usually pale cheeks.
Their voices were so low that not a person, even those in the next box,
could make out what they were saying. All over the theatre was the buzz
of conversation, and the brilliant lights penetrated even the dim
interior of the upper box.
"Sir Percy, then," said Alicia after a pause, "has told you all?"
Lady Carlyon inclined her head silently, her eyes lighting up with anger
as she looked resolutely in Alicia March's calm face.
"Tell him from me, please," Alicia continued after a pause, while the
two women steadily eyed each other, "that he may take his choice, either
of sending you to my house or having that early story between us made
known to certain persons in power. You know these Americans are a
prudish people, and, ridiculous as it may seem, the fact of the
relations between your husband and myself in our youth being made known,
and the fact that he has been at my house and I have been to yours,
would cause an intimation to him that he had better leave Washington.
You may tell Sir Percy, also, that your absence from my house is
perplexing and troubling to my father, and for that reason, if for no
other, I mean that you shall come to my house, or Sir Percy's diplomatic
career in Washington will be ended."
"Sir Percy is not a man to yield to threats," replied Sir Percy's wife.
By this time her cheeks were crimson, but her voice was still composed.
"These are not threats, but promises. I grant you I could not do this
except in Washington. I should be laughed at anywhere in Europe if I
attempted to make known certain facts about Sir Percy's early life, and
I could not do him the slightest harm, but you see these people are very
different. Ambassadors have been quietly notified, before this, that
their presence was not acceptable. The public are not taken into the
confidence of the people in power, nevertheless Ambassadors are ruined.
There will not be a public scandal; if there were my father would know
it, and I believe that he would shoot himself. All that I promise will
be done very quietly, but it will be done, if you and Sir Percy continue
obstinate. I shall be at home all day to-morrow and shall expect Sir
Percy to call to see me. Good-evening."
She rose and left the box, and as she passed through the narrow lobby
outside she came face to face with Sir Percy Carlyon.
"I have just had an interview with Lady Carlyon," said Alicia March
composedly, "and I shall expect to see you at my house some time
to-morrow."
Sir Percy bowed in silence without showing the least surprise, and
stepped into the box. Lady Carlyon had taken a chair well at the front
of the box, and with her slender, shapely arm resting upon the ledge,
was in full view of the house. Her face was quite calm, but a deep
flush upon her usually pale cheeks showed Sir Percy that the interview
between her and Alicia March had been of an unusual nature. Obeying an
indication from his wife, Sir Percy sat also in full view of the
audience and of Alicia March, once more among the audience. She had
reached her seat before General Talbott's return, and he had no idea
that she had left it during his absence.
"Look, my love!" he said, "there are the Carlyons. Lady Carlyon is
looking remarkably handsome and animated to-night. I think I will go
and speak with them during the next interval."
Alicia smiled, but said nothing. It would be an added torment to the
Carlyons to have General Talbott with them.
When the curtain came down for the second time General Talbott, as good
as his word, went to the Carlyons' box. Alicia, from below, saw him
cordially received, and Lady Carlyon, all smiles and composure, talking
with him. He left the box just before the curtain went up, and when the
Carlyons were alone Sir Percy said to his wife:
"Would you like to leave the theatre now?"
"By no means," answered Lady Carlyon promptly; "we will remain through
the play, and you must wait until then to know what has happened."
"You are a brave creature, my Lady Lucy," responded her husband.
The Carlyons were among the last people to leave the theatre, and when
they were in their carriage Lady Carlyon told her husband what had
happened. He heard it in silence and made no comment. Later, when they
had reached home and were alone, Lady Carlyon would have spoken of it
again, but Sir Percy stopped her.
"Not any more to-night," he said; "to-morrow will be time enough."
*XIV*
Next morning, although it was the beginning of spring, the snow was
falling, and a biting northeast wind made the day look like one in
December. Lady Carlyon was sitting in her morning-room with her two
beautiful children at her knees when Sir Percy entered about twelve
o'clock. Nothing is so beautiful and interesting as a young mother with
her children, and Sir Percy, standing on the hearth-rug, paid his wife
the tribute of admiration. She played with the children and danced about
the room with them as if she were a child herself. Sir Percy was not
surprised at her cheerfulness; he had ever found in her that admirable
quality of courage and gaiety of heart in the presence of danger which
is half the battle. It is commonly observed that this presence of danger
produces in brave men a quickening of the intellect as well as an
exhilaration of spirits, and it is equally true of brave women. Lady
Carlyon was singularly fearless; her pride was up in arms. Alicia March
had made claim to some part and lot in Sir Percy Carlyon's life, a claim
which Lady Carlyon treated with fine scorn, and Alicia March had made
threats and had assumed the power of disposing of Sir Percy Carlyon's
career. This aroused in Lady Carlyon the spirit of defiance. These
things brought smiles to her face, a new light to her eyes, and a
haughtier carriage to her delicate head. Sir Percy knew well these
signs. Presently, however, the children were sent away and the husband
and wife were alone.
"I am going now to see Mrs. March," said Sir Percy coolly; "I think I
may as well give up the fight. Alicia March is not the woman to make
idle threats, and she can do precisely what she says she can. Besides,
General Talbott has to be considered. It will be difficult to keep such
an affair from him, and he is one of these mediaeval men, something like
March himself, of whom no one can predict anything when a question of
his own or his daughter's honour is involved. I can quietly resign and
go away. We shall have enough to live upon modestly, and in some quiet
corner of England we can forget Alicia March, and live for each other
and our children. It is a downfall for you, my Lady Lucy, and I am the
one who has brought it upon you."
Lady Carlyon went up to him, laying her hand on his arm, and said with
sparkling eyes:
"Give up the fight, do you mean, and let Mrs. March drive you from your
position?"
"There is nothing else to be done," replied Sir Percy quietly. "Think
for a moment; I can't make a fight without making it public. If I were
alone I shouldn't care for the publicity, but you--not for twenty
ambassadorships would I bring you into anything like this."
Lady Carlyon dropped her head upon his shoulder and burst into tears,
which wrung his heart, but did not change his resolution. Half-an-hour
afterwards he was ushered into Mrs. March's boudoir, where Alicia waited
for him. Sir Percy refused the chair which she offered him and remained
standing, hat in hand. Alicia March felt a sense of triumph which
glowed in her eyes; Sir Percy had wearied of her and had scorned her,
but in the end, when he had reached the height of his ambition, she had
brought him to heel roundly after nearly nineteen years.
"Lady Carlyon gave me your message," he said, when the first cool
greetings were exchanged. "You are quite able to do all that you have
threatened. If I were alone I should make a fight, but for Lady
Carlyon's sake I am willing to surrender. I shall require a few weeks
to arrange matters and to give the Home Government a chance to appoint
my successor, and then I shall leave the diplomatic service. That, I
think, should satisfy you."
Alicia March remained silent, looking down. This then was her triumph!
It was not really what she wanted. She had desired the greater triumph
of having her way with Lady Carlyon. After a moment or two she spoke:
"It is a small thing for which you are giving up your diplomatic
career--let me see, you are not forty-five. I ask only that your wife
come to my house once in a season."
To this Sir Percy, with a cool smile, made answer:
"I would prefer to give up the ambassadorship and retire from the
diplomatic service."