A CHANGE OF VENUE.
“Why, Uncle Cyril! how awfully good of you to come and meet me!” Yet
Usk’s eyes strayed to the dogcart waiting in the road just beyond the
station fence, and the stolid groom in charge of it. “Is--is any one
else here?”
“No; Félicia is not here. What do you think of putting your bag into
the cart, and walking up?”
“All right. I shall be glad to stretch my legs. Félicia isn’t ill, is
she?”
“I saw no signs of it when I started. But why should you expect her to
meet you? I understood you and she had quarrelled?”
“Quarrelled? Why, it was nothing--the most utter nonsense! She never
wrote me a word for four whole days, though. But I wrote to her every
day, and at last, on the fifth evening, I had a letter from her--an
awfully jolly letter, but making the most tremendous fuss about the
way she had behaved, calling herself names, and all sorts of things.
It seemed so uncalled-for that I really thought she must be going to
be ill, for she’s not a bit morbid generally, is she?”
“Few people less so, I should think. The letter reached you five days
after you left here, you say. It was written the day before, of
course?”
“The evening before. I know she said she was writing when the house
was quiet. But I’m awfully glad she’s all right. She’s so unexpected,
isn’t she? You never can tell what she’ll do next.”
“I used to notice the same thing about my wife in the early days of
our acquaintance. There is a peculiar charm about that unexpectedness
when it is introduced into politics. It quite prevents any feeling of
flatness.”
“Now one would have imagined”--Usk was still pursuing his own train of
thought--“that she would have come to meet me after that letter.”
“The unexpected again, you see.”
“But how did you know anything about our----? Well, it wasn’t a
quarrel----”
“The suspension of friendly relations? I inferred it from what I saw
after you were gone.”
“And you spoke to Félicia? Very kind of you, I’m sure, but--well, you
know----”
“You prefer to conduct your own love affairs? Quite so. Make your mind
easy; I did not speak to Félicia. But if I remember rightly, I did
send you in your mother’s letter a strong hint not to stay away more
than the two days you intended at first.”
“Yes, I know, but you said ‘unless it will damage your chances,’ and
it would have done, horribly. You see, it was such a piece of good
luck old Morrell’s taking to me so tremendously, when he had hated the
very mention of a successor before, that I couldn’t go and hurt his
feelings. He would drag me round the constituency, and hunt up all the
local organisers to introduce me to them, and we really covered an
immense amount of ground. The party agent said I couldn’t have made a
better start.”
“Don’t think I want to see you less keen. It isn’t that. Did Félicia
tell you any news in her letter--anything that had happened?”
“No; there was nothing of that sort. But really, Uncle Cyril, I don’t
think she was angry with me for staying away. I wrote her awfully long
letters--and sent her things, too. She couldn’t think I had forgotten
her.”
“I never thought she did. But did she express regret for anything in
particular, or merely for her general treatment of you? I have an
object in asking,” as Usk looked at him in surprise. “Don’t think it’s
mere curiosity.”
“She didn’t mention anything definite--except just to say that if
things went wrong between us, it was Maimie Logan’s fault, not hers,
which I could have told her myself. Oh, by the bye, that’s another
queer thing. I had an hour or two to spare in town, so I ran down to
Bradcross and looked up Mr and Mrs Steinherz’s marriage at St Mary
Windicotes. It was there all right, but the queer thing is that some
months ago a lady came and asked about it, and got a copy of the
entry, and I’m pretty sure it was Miss Logan.”
“Exactly what I thought. How did you find out?”
“There was the paper pasted on the inside of the cover, just as Mr
Steinherz said, and I tried one of the corners with my nail to see if
it was loose. Then the clerk’s wife, who had been in a great state of
excitement ever since she heard what entry I wanted to see, cried out,
‘Why, that’s just what the lady did as come here in the autumn!’ When
I said, ‘What lady?’ she nearly had a fit, and refused point-blank to
tell me anything, saying she wished she had bitten her tongue off
before the words slipped out. I tried the usual persuasive, and
assured her that I had the strongest possible reasons for wishing good
and not harm to Mr and Mrs Bertram, as she called them, and their
descendants, and at last I got it out of her that the lady was not
old, and not very young, not a regular foreigner, but not quite
English, and dressed very smartly,--‘fine enough for a carriage,’ the
old woman said, which is just what every one here says about these two
girls whenever they go out walking. Then she told me what her voice
was like, and I couldn’t doubt for a moment that it was Miss Logan.”
“This is most interesting. When did you say it happened?”
“About six months ago, as far as I could make out. Either just before
or just after Mr Steinherz’s death, I should think.”
“When she was in London, of course. Well, I am glad to have this
cleared up. She told me a lame story of having been put on the track
by some writing in an old prayer-book belonging to her mother, and
said she had pieced together into a coherent whole things remembered
from childhood and details picked up since.”
“She told you!”
“Yes; that is the piece of news I wondered whether you had heard. She
knows the whole story, and has confided it to Félicia, and Félicia
will be satisfied with nothing short of full rights and recognition.
The story, as she told it, was less detailed than what I had heard
from you, but it corresponded with it so exactly that I felt certain
she could not have developed it in the way she made out. After this
discovery of yours, I haven’t a doubt that she was listening, either
when Mr Steinherz explained things to you, or when he made Hicks
Félicia’s trustee--no, scarcely that, unless he read aloud to him the
attested statement which was to be left in his charge. Well, we can’t
prove it against her, but that’s the truth, I feel certain.”
“And Félicia knows--the whole thing?”
“The whole thing. Now, Usk, I am going to depart for once from my
invariable rule, and give you a piece of good advice. There are two
ways in which you can take this. Either you could throw yourself into
Félicia’s view of the matter, and do everything in your power to help
her press her claim--which is never likely to be established. Do you
feel yourself debarred from such a course as that?”
“Absolutely, by my repeated promise to Mr Steinherz.”
“I thought so. Then here’s the alternative. Forbid Félicia to take
any step in the matter. Let her understand that if she does,
everything is over between you. Give her the choice. Otherwise,
whether she wins or loses, you will infallibly drift apart, for no
woman will stand seeing a man indifferent or opposed to an aim which
is the breath of life to her. If she cares for you enough to give it
up for your sake, it’s a different thing.”
“I couldn’t ask it of her,” said Usk. “In one way, it’s almost a
relief that this has come out. I have always felt as if I was
defrauding her, somehow.”
“Usk,” said his uncle, “there’s a good deal of your mother in you, and
that makes it perfectly hopeless to offer you any guidance. One could
generally get Caerleon to see reason, after a tremendous amount of
hammering, but nothing but fanaticism would move your mother--in her
young days, of course. Well, I don’t envy you the next few months. I
have cabled to Hicks to let me know the exact nature of the proofs he
holds, and also whether the trustees are debarred like you from
asserting any claim on Félicia’s behalf. It was necessary to find
that out, though those two girls were so impatient of delay that they
were ready to set out for Vindobona there and then, and press the
claim in person. I had to point out to them that Félicia would do
well to remain as far from Pannonia as possible for the present. There
are various approved ways of disposing of inconvenient young ladies
who persist in raking up forgotten scandals, especially when there are
a good many millions in question as well.”
“Yes. She is safest here, if she is resolved to go on. But what I
can’t make out is why Miss Logan should have been silent so long, if
she knew everything six months ago.”
“I can’t be certain, but I have my suspicions that my hopeful stepson
comes in somewhere. That’s why I should be glad to see you put your
foot down, and end the matter one way or the other.”
“You mean that he and Miss Logan are plotting that he shall marry
Félicia if the claim is allowed? Rather fine from their point of
view, wouldn’t it be? But they are reckoning without Félicia.”
“Where did you get your wide knowledge of women?” asked Cyril, with
intense interest. Usk answered quite unsuspiciously--
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t know many, but I know Félicia.”
“And you won’t even attempt to dissuade her from pressing the claim?”
“I mean to tell her how anxious her father was that she should let
things alone, but I can’t help it if she decides not to. It’s her own
concern, and she has a right to judge for herself.”
It would have been well if Félicia had also been able to adopt this
moderate view, and to concede to Usk the right of judging for himself.
But she demanded not merely his passive permission, but his active
approval, for all that she saw fit to do, and as he was not disposed
to go a step beyond the line he had laid down, the relations between
them became somewhat strained. The two lived in an atmosphere of
argument. Even the low-toned conversations in the drawing-room at
night were devoted to persistent efforts to make Usk confess that
Félicia was in the right, and that her success was certain. He kept
his temper admirably on the whole, but this led only to further
attacks, for Félicia could not believe he was in earnest. She lost
her temper somewhat frequently, but Usk understood that this was due
to “nerves.”
“I guess I know why you’d like to have me let things slide,” she said
angrily one morning on the terrace. “You’re thinking of the dollars.”
“The dollars! What dollars?” asked Usk.
“Mine, of course. Pappa’s pile, which was to procure me the honour of
admission into your noble family.”
“Are you trying to see what I’m like when I’m ‘riz,’ as Hicks says?”
asked Usk laughing. “Why, Fay, he would tell you that it was the
thought of your dollars that frightened me more than anything--kept me
back for ever so long.”
“Then what was it made you conclude to go ahead at last?”
“Look in the glass,” said Usk, and Félicia was mollified.
“I’m real glad I have the dollars, any way,” she said, slipping her
hand into his arm. “This place wants making over from cellar to
garret.”
“Does it? I suppose it seems so to other people, but it’s perfect to
us. By the bye, Fay, you hurt old Wright’s feelings terribly the other
day by depreciating his stables.”
“Why, I only said I’d have those old shacks pulled down, and a real
elegant range of stabling built--just like at Bagatelle.”
“One may like good horses, and drive them too, without making palaces
of their stables. Ours are all right.”
“Well, I’ll never be satisfied until they’re just as good as those at
Bagatelle, with all sorts of cunning little notions around everywhere.
Why, even Baron von Neuburg had heard of the Bagatelle stables, and we
made an excursion over there for the day, so’s he might see them. But
there’s just everything to be done to this house and the grounds. I’ve
an idea of a glass piazza to close in that upper terrace, but the
whole front of the house wants modernising real badly.”
Usk restrained himself with some difficulty. “Perhaps you don’t know
that the Castle is considered one of the finest houses in the
country?” he said. “It would be horribly out of character to try to
make an American summer hotel out of it.”
“Well, I’d as lief have it that as a ruin,” said Félicia
indifferently. “But it don’t even look old, only shabby. That’s what I
would just admire, to add on towers and battlements, and all that, and
make it a real castle.”
“A sham castle,” said Usk. “And I don’t think you would care to live
in it.”
“Oh, I’d have plate-glass windows, and electricity everywhere, of
course. And inside! Why, your mother has the rooms so bare, they feel
to me ’most indecent. When I fix up the picture-gallery, you’ll see
it’ll be just elegant. All those musty old pictures and horrid suits
of armour and swords and things will take a back seat. Now you feel
like looking at them because there’s nothing else to see, but when
I’ve inaugurated my reforms, one of them will just be on hand here and
there as a surprise.”
“And how do you intend to dispose of them, then?”
“Why, instead of that horrid old dull tapestry and black panelling,
I’ll have silk hangings in pastel shades, each room a different
colour. I’ll have them weave them on purpose for me in France. And all
those cute little recesses in the gallery I’ll turn into cosy nooks,
with French furniture and nicknacks and Japanese things, and now and
then a suit of armour that’ll just give you the coldest kind of a
shudder. And some of the pictures can be cleaned, and the rest be
hidden back of the hangings. It’ll be too cunning for anything.”
“Rather!” said Usk, with a short laugh. “I am only delighted to think
that my father and mother will probably be supreme here for twenty or
thirty years yet, happily, and that by that time you’ll have learnt to
be so fond of the Castle that you won’t want to lay a finger on it.”
“Now that’s real horrid of you!” said Félicia angrily. “I don’t see
but Lord and Lady Caerleon would very well leave the Castle to us, and
go and live some other place. I don’t choose to board, especially with
your folks. I want a house of my own, so’s I can stamp my
individuality upon it.”
“That you can have in London. There’s no likelihood whatever of my
parents giving up the Castle to us, I am thankful to say. Why should
they?”
“Why, because they’ve had it ever so long,” cried Félicia. “I shall
want to have house-parties here, when we’re not in town. Say, Usk!
I’ll restore the Abbey, and we’ll have that for our country-house.”
“The Abbey!” Usk was aghast. “Do you know that all our family are
buried there?”
“Oh, we’ll soon fix them up somewhere else. Why, I’ll have just the
loveliest sort of house-parties, not like any other person’s. We’ll
call them ‘retreats,’ and I’ll design a cunning little nun’s dress for
every one to wear. The papers will just gloat over it, and all of the
smart set will be fighting for invitations.”
“I don’t like jokes of this kind,” said Usk, with forced calmness. “Of
course, when you are mistress of the Castle, you can alter the
arrangements as you please, provided you don’t destroy or make away
with the old things, but I give you fair warning that you won’t touch
a single stone of the walls, or do anything to desecrate the Abbey.”
“Ah, I guess I’ll have to burn the Castle down. Then I can build it up
again as I want it!” said Félicia airily, leaving Usk with the
uncomfortable conviction that she had been joking all the time, and
that he had made a foolish display of strong feeling, and invoked his
authority quite unnecessarily. However, it pleased Félicia so much to
have made him angry at last, that she treated him better for the next
few days, until the tension became acute once more under the influence
of a stray piece of news from the Riviera.
In answer to Cyril’s telegram, Mr Hicks had cabled that there was
nothing to prevent the trustees from supporting Félicia’s claim, if
she did not consider her father’s strongly expressed wish as binding
on her, and he added such details as to the papers and other objects
left in his charge by Mr Steinherz as enabled Cyril to draw up a
statement at once. The relationship between his wife and the royal
family of Arragon gave him the opportunity of proceeding privately,
much to his satisfaction, for expecting the whole affair to end in
smoke, he did not care for it to be canvassed in the European press.
Félicia would have preferred publicity, for she had been looking
forward confidently to becoming the heroine of the sensation-mongering
American papers, and felt that she was being defrauded of the
interviews and portraits that were her due. She yielded, however, to
the strong pressure brought to bear on her by Maimie, who pointed out
that a Steinherz boom would certainly alienate King Michael, not
knowing that King Michael himself was on the verge of rendering this
precaution unnecessary by carrying out too faithfully his part of the
programme. It was a paragraph in a weekly society paper which made his
doings known at Llandiarmid. Queen Ernestine brought the paper to her
husband when it reached the Castle, and pointed out to him anxiously
the “Lady’s Letter from the Riviera.”
“Listen to this, Cyril,” she said. “‘Among last week’s arrivals at
Nice was the young King of Thracia, travelling _incognito_ as Baron
von Neuburg. He may be seen every day in close attendance on the
pretty Grand-Duchess Sonya, who is making a short stay at the
Conciliation with her father, the Grand-Duke Eugen of Scythia, and the
announcement of their betrothal is daily expected. It is well known
that the attachment between them is of long standing, but that the
course of true love was interrupted by the attempt of the Dowager
Queen and her English husband to marry King Michael to the latter’s
niece, a daughter of the Marquis of Caerleon. Happily the young lady
was possessed of less ambition or more good sense than her august
relations, and made a love-match with a commoner a year or two ago, so
that her unwilling suitor is at liberty to return to the real object
of his affections.’”
“It strikes me,” said Cyril, “that there is something more than the
unbridled imagination of the lady journalist at work here. I seem to
recognise the touch of a well-known hand. Let me look.” He turned back
to the beginning of the letter, with its usual altruistic
self-congratulation on the number of distinguished personages
sojourning on the Riviera, and pointed out among them the name of the
Princess Dowager of Dardania. “As usual!” he said. “Well, that
relieves your mind a little, doesn’t it? All the same, it might be as
well to write and advise Michael not to play his part too seriously.”
But if Cyril’s acuteness, born of experience, had lessened the Queen’s
anxiety, there was no one to reassure Félicia in the same way. She
found the paper that evening and read the paragraph, and the crown
which had been merely shadowy seemed to become real and desirable in
proportion as it receded from her view. She blamed Maimie for
mismanaging things, blamed herself for consenting to remain at
Llandiarmid and prosecute her claim by deputy, and blamed the King
most of all for his inconstancy, showing a jealousy which her own
equivocal position did not by any means justify. She slept little that
night, and Maimie, who sat up for hours alternately arguing with and
soothing her, was at her wits’ end. It was her chief terror that
Félicia might insist on following the King to the Riviera forthwith,
but it would be almost as bad if she betrayed herself by making scenes
at Llandiarmid. She tried to persuade her to remain in bed the next
day, but Félicia refused pettishly, and made her appearance about an
hour before lunch, looking so ghastly that Usk uttered an exclamation
of horror. Unfortunately, this was a fresh grievance.
“If I am looking sick, you needn’t tell me so,” she complained.
“But you ought to see the doctor. Let me ride over and fetch him.”
“No; I want to have you amuse me. Don’t look at me that way. You make
me nervous. Why don’t you say something amusing? I guess you would
make yourself sick worrying if you were tormented like me--not knowing
whether you were a princess or just a no-account girl.”
“Isn’t it enough to be Miss Steinherz of the United States? Look here,
Fay, why not chuck it all? It’s only making you ill and miserable, and
you have a capital opportunity now. Uncle Cyril asked me to tell you
that Don Ramon of Arragon flatly refuses to recognise or even consider
your claim, and you can accept that as final. Otherwise you’ll have to
approach the Emperor of Pannonia, and go through all this bother
again, with just the same result.”
“How do you know it would be just the same?” demanded Félicia
sharply. “It’s to your advantage to try and keep me out of my rights,
because you don’t want to lose me.”
“Well, oughtn’t you to be pleased at that? But I don’t see why I
should lose you if your claim was allowed.”
“Well, I guess if I was a princess----”
“You’d throw me over? Thanks, awfully! Do you imagine that if I became
a prince it would make any difference to you?”
“Ah, but you’d raise me to your level, any way. I couldn’t raise you.”
“No, indeed, and I’m thankful for it. But don’t let us bother about
such nonsense, Fay. You’re no more likely to be a princess than I am
to be a prince, so why not recognise the fact and withdraw gracefully,
instead of wearing yourself to death worrying about it?”
“Because I don’t feel like acting that way,” said Félicia
obstinately. “Well, supposing they did acknowledge me, and we had to
break off our engagement, what would you do?”
“What other men do when they’re jilted, I imagine--grin and bear it.”
“Would the world become a blank to you? Would you never believe in a
woman again?”
“I should never believe in you again, certainly. But other women--why,
there’d be the mater and Phil just the same. Why shouldn’t I believe
in them?”
“Well, you might say you wouldn’t, any way,” pouted Félicia.
“Look here,” said Usk. “You said you wanted to be amused, and I hope
you are. All this sort of stuff doesn’t amuse me at all. Let’s come
out.”
“No, thanks. I’m awfully interested, analysing you. I do wish you were
different--sort of imperious, you know, so’s I daren’t disobey you.
I’d love to be made to feel that I just had to do whatever you wanted,
and there was no choice about loving you or anything. It would save so
much trouble.”
“I’m sorry, for your sake, that I’m not that kind of man. I never met
one, but I’ve read about them in books. Seems to me you’d have a
cheerful time--especially when you wanted to disobey him, and didn’t
dare to.”
“I guess it would be better than this, any way. I can’t think why
things should be so horrid. I just want to have a good time, that’s
all, and every single thing seems to conspire to prevent it. It’s real
hateful!” and Félicia broke into genuine sobs. Usk’s first impulse
was to walk away, but he restrained it and stood awkwardly by. His own
temper was considerably ruffled by this time, and he was not disposed
to blame himself for Félicia’s tears, but her sobs became more and
more vehement, and he cast his injured dignity to the winds.
“Don’t, Fay, don’t!” he entreated, kneeling down beside her. “I was a
brute to say what I did. I didn’t mean it--whatever it was; at least,
I didn’t mean you to take it like this. It was my fault, I know. What
was it I said that hurt your feelings? You know I didn’t mean it. Oh,
do stop. Here’s your Maimie coming, and she’ll be sure to say I made
you cry, and I don’t know what I could have said.”
But Félicia sobbed on, and Maimie glared at Usk as she came up.
“I do think you’re real horrid,” she said judicially. “Here’s Fay
making herself sick crying, and you teasing her all the time. I’ll
have her go up to town and see a nerve-specialist, now the weather’s
warmer. Your cars are so draughty in winter that I’d just as lief have
taken her to the Arctic. But I know all this is telling upon her
nerves, and it’s awfully bad the way you go on exciting her. Come,
Fay, darling.”
She swept away the still sobbing Félicia, leaving Usk to mental abuse
of himself and her in turn, and having settled her in her room, went
with a grave face in search of Lady Caerleon. She felt certain that
the shock and strain of the autumn and winter had been too much for
Félicia’s strength, and that it was imperative to take her to a
London doctor at once. Grieved and startled, Lady Caerleon offered to
accompany the two girls herself, but Maimie declined her escort
gracefully. She and Félicia and the maid would run up to town for two
nights, and see whether the complete change from her present
surroundings would do anything to restore Félicia’s cheerfulness. The
inference was obvious, and Lady Caerleon interposed to restrain her
husband when he wished to insist upon accompanying the girls. It was
out of the question, he declared, for them to make the journey alone,
and stay at a hotel by themselves, but his wife was strongly of
opinion that it was better to leave them to take their own course.
Things could not go on as they were at present, and a little
reflection might show Félicia how severely she had of late tried the
patience of her friends.
It is possible that there was in Lady Caerleon’s mind the thought, or
even the hope, that Félicia might discover that she was happier apart
from Usk, and take the opportunity of breaking off her engagement, but
the actual upshot of the visit to London was quite unexpected. It was
announced in a letter from Maimie, brief and agitated in appearance.
“Dear Lady Caerleon,” she wrote, “I’m in the most awful state of
mind about Félicia. The doctor says it would be simply fatal for her
to return to the country at this season. She must just be in a
cheerful place, with lively people around, and everything bright. Most
happily, the letter that arrived when we were starting was from Mrs
van Zyl, repeating her former invitation to Nice, and I have wired to
tell her to expect us right now. We have bought a travelling-suit
each, and a waist or two, here, but we will just take a few hours in
Paris as we pass through, and get some decent gowns. I am sorry to
have quit Llandiarmid so suddenly, but at present I can think of
nothing but Félicia. She looks awfully sick, but I hope to see her
revive in the South. She will insert a note to Lord Usk if she feels
able. Will you kindly send our baggage after us to the Villa
Bougainvillea?”
There was no note enclosed, and this omission threw Usk into a
terrible state of alarm. Félicia was ill, perhaps dying, and he was
to blame. He would hear of nothing but rushing off to Nice at once,
and he was throwing his things into a bag when his uncle came down the
corridor and saw his preparations through the open door of his room.
“I think this is a little unnecessary,” he observed gently.
“Why, she may be gone before I get there!” cried Usk.
“Scarcely. It may interest you to know that her boxes and Miss Logan’s
are all packed and locked. It’s no good shutting your eyes to it, Usk.
The visit to the doctor was a polite fiction to enable the girls to
leave the Castle without interference. We will put it more kindly, and
say they were bent on going, and wished to save us the trouble of
dissuading them. The question now is, what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know why I should do anything but go to her,” said Usk
doggedly.
“Are you certain you are wanted?”
Usk turned on his uncle. “If you know anything, say it, and don’t keep
hinting things,” he cried. “Why shouldn’t she want me?”
“You think you would not be _de trop_ when Michael was present?”
Usk’s eyes flamed, and he made a step forward, but his hands dropped
suddenly to his side. “I’ll see her,” he said hoarsely, “and tell her
she must choose once for all between that fellow and me. I won’t be
kept hanging on, to be made useful if she doesn’t succeed in landing
him. But I don’t believe it’s that at all. She’s anxious and worried
about this wretched claim of hers, as she told me herself, and it’s
just a chance that he happens to be at Nice.”
“Very well. As you say, it’s as well to see her before you judge. Your
aunt and I think of going to Nice to look after Michael a little, and
you may as well travel with us, and not rush off in this dramatic way.
You won’t want to make your differences of opinion public, I suppose,
in any case?”