It was eleven o'clock when Winn arrived at the Fanshawes. Estelle was
barely dressed, she always slept late, had her breakfast in bed, and
gave as much trouble as possible to the servants.
However, when she heard who had called to see her, she sent for a basket
and some roses, and five minutes later strolled into the drawing-room,
with her hat on, and the flowers in her hands.
Her mother stayed in the garden and nervously thought out the lunch.
Winn seized the basket out of Estelle's hands, took her by the wrists,
and drew her to the window.
She wasn't frightened of him, but she pretended to be. She said, "Oh,
Major Staines!" She looked as soft and innocent as a cream-fed kitten.
Winn cleared his throat. It made him feel rather religious to look at
her. He did not of course see her as a kitten; he saw her approximately
as an angel.
"Look here," he said, "my name's Winn."
"You're hurting my wrists," she murmured. He dropped them. "Winn," she
said under her breath.
"I say," he said after a moment's pause, "would you mind marrying me?"
Estelle lifted her fine China blue eyes to his. They weren't soft, but
they could sometimes look very mysterious.
"Oh," she said, "but, Winn--it's so sudden--so soon!"
"Leave's short," Winn explained, "and besides, I knew the moment I
looked at you, I wanted you. I don't know how you feel, of course;
but--well--I'm sure you aren't the kind of girl to let a fellow kiss
you, are you, and mean nothing?"
Estelle's long lashes swept her cheeks; she behaved exquisitely. She
was, of course, exactly that kind of girl.
"Ah," she said, with a little tremble in her voice, "if I do marry
you--will you be kind to me?"
Winn trembled, too; he flushed very red, and suddenly he did the
funniest, most unlikely thing in the world: he got down on his knees
beside her, and taking both her hands in his, he kissed them.
"I'll be like this as much as ever you'll let me," he said gravely.
He had a great craving for sweetness, delicacy, and gentleness; he began
to tell her in little short, abrupt sentences how unworthy he was of
her, not fit to touch her really--he was afraid he'd been horribly
rough--and done lots of things she would have hated (he forgot to
mention that he'd ever done anything worth doing as well); he explained
that he didn't know any women a bit like her; there weren't any, of
course, _really_ like--but she knew what he meant. So that he expected
she'd have to teach him a lot--would she--if she didn't mind, and
overlook his being stupid?
Estelle listened thoughtfully for a few minutes, then she asked him if
he didn't think eight bridesmaids would be better than four?
He got up from his knees then.
He didn't like discussing the wedding, and he got bored very soon and
went away, so that Mrs. Fanshawe didn't need to have the special lunch
she had ordered, after all.
They were to have a very short engagement, and Estelle decided on four
bridesmaids and four pages; she was so small herself that children would
look prettier and more innocent.
There was something particularly charming about a young wedding, and
they were to have a celebration first--Estelle was most particular about
that--and a wedding breakfast afterwards of course. Winn was
extraordinarily kind to her; he let her settle everything she liked and
gave her exactly the ring she wanted--an immense emerald set with
diamonds. He wasn't in the least particular about where they spent the
honeymoon, after making a very silly suggestion, which Estelle promptly
over-ruled, that they might go to the East Coast and make a study of
fortifications.
He agreed that London would do just as well, with theaters, and he could
look up a man he knew at the War Office. Certainly they should go to the
Ritz if Estelle liked it; but it was rather noisy.
The one point he did make was to have a young officer he liked, who had
been with him in China, Lionel Drummond, as his best man, instead of
his cousin Lord Arlington. His brothers were out of the question, as he
couldn't have one without having a row with the other. Estelle wanted
Lord Arlington, but when she pressed the point, Winn gave her a most
extraordinary sharp look and said, "I thought I told you I wanted that
boy Drummond?" It was a most peculiar and disconcerting look, well known
in the Staines family. Trouble usually followed very quickly upon its
heels. Estelle shivered and gave in and was rewarded by a diamond
brooch.
This showed her how important shivering was going to be in her married
life.
The only really disagreeable time Estelle had during her engagement was
the short half hour in which Lady Staines fulfilled her maternal duties.
It was a rainy day and Lady Staines had walked two miles across the
fields in what looked like a cricket cap, and a waterproof.
She cleaned her boots as carefully as she could in the hall. They were
square-toed and hob-nailed and most unsuitable for a drawing-room.
Mrs. Fanshawe literally quailed before them. "You shouldn't have parquet
floors," Lady Staines remarked, holding out her hand; "in the country,
it's the ruin of them unless you wear paper soles," she glanced
searchingly at Mrs. Fanshawe's and Estelle's feet. "And that of course
is the ruin of your feet. Probably you've lived in London all your
lives?"
Mrs. Fanshawe found herself in the position of apologizing for what had
hitherto been her proudest boast. Lady Staines looked tolerantly around
her. "London's a poor place," she observed, "and very shoddy. When my
friends the Malverns lived here, they had old oak and rather nice
chintzes. I see you go in for color schemes and nicknacks. I hope
Estelle won't find Staines uncomfortable; however, she probably won't be
with us often."
She turned to her future daughter-in-law. "You are Estelle, my dear,
ain't you?" she demanded. "And I dare say you can't speak a word of
French in spite of your fine name. Can you?"
Estelle hesitated and blushed. "Not very much, I'm afraid," she
truthfully murmured. It flashed through her mind that with Lady Staines
you must be truthful if there was any possible chance of your being
found out.
"Hum!" said Lady Staines thoughtfully. "I can't see what people spend so
much on education for nowadays. I really can't! And you're going to
marry my second son, ain't you?" she demanded. "Well, I'm sure it's very
kind of you. All the Staines have tempers, but Winn's is quite the
worst. I don't want to exaggerate, but I really don't think you could
match it in this world. He generally keeps it, too! He was a nasty,
murderous, little boy. I assure you I've often beaten him till he was
black and blue and never got a word out of him."
Mrs. Fanshawe looked horrified. "But my dear Lady Staines," she urged,
"surely you tried kindness?"
Lady Staines shook her head. "No," she said, "I don't think so, I don't
think I am kind--very. But he's turned out well, don't you think? He's
the only one of my sons who's got honors--a 'D.S.O.' for South Africa,
and a C.B. for something or other, I never know what, in China; and he
got his Majority extraordinarily young for special services--or he
wouldn't have been able to marry you, my dear, for his father won't help
him. He doesn't get drunk as often as the other two boys, either; in
fact, on the whole, I should call him satisfactory. And now he's chosen
you, and I'm sure we're all very grateful to you for taking him in
hand."
Mrs. Fanshawe offered her visitor tea; she was profoundly shocked, but
she thought that tea would help. Lady Staines refused it. "No, thank you
very much," she said. "I must be getting back to give Sir Peter his. I
shall be late as it is, and I shall probably hear him swearing all down
the drive. We shall all be seeing more than enough of each other before
long. But there's no use making a fuss about it, is there? We're a most
disagreeable family, and I'm sure it'll be worse for you than for us."
Estelle accompanied her future mother-in-law to the door. She had not
been as much shocked as her mother.
Lady Staines laid her small neat hand on the girl's arm. She looked at
her very hard, but there was a spark of some kind, behind the hardness;
if the eyes hadn't been those of Lady Staines, they might almost have
been said to plead.
"I wonder if you like him?" she said slowly.
Estelle said, "Oh, dear Lady Staines, believe me--with all my heart!"
Lady Staines didn't believe her, but she smiled good-humoredly. "Yes,
yes, my dear, I know!" she said. "But how much heart have you got? You
see his happiness and yours depend on that. The woman who marries a
Staines ought to have a good deal of heart and all of it ought to be
his."
Estelle put on an air of pretty dignity. "I have never loved any one
before," she asserted with serene untruthfulness (she felt sure this
fact couldn't be proved against her), "and Winn believes in my heart."
"Does he?" said his mother. "I wonder. He believes in your pretty face!
Well, it is pretty, I acknowledge that. Keep it as pretty as you can."
She didn't kiss her future daughter-in-law, but she tapped her lightly
on the shoulder and trudged back with head erect through the rain.
"It's a bad business," she said to herself thoughtfully. "He's rushed
his fence and there's a ditch on the other side of it, deep enough to
drown him!"