The name braced Stephen at once. Here was danger, an enemy to be
encountered; all the fighting blood of generations leaped to the
occasion. The short spell of sleep had helped to restore her. There
remained still quite enough of mental and nervous excitement to make her
think quickly; the words were hardly out of the maid's mouth before her
resolution was taken. It would never do to let Leonard Everard see she
was diffident about meeting him; she would go down at once. But she
would take the precaution of having her aunt present; at any rate, till
she should have seen how the land lay. Her being just waked from sleep
would be an excuse for asking her aunt to see the visitor till she came
down. So she said to the maid:
'I have been asleep. I must have got tired walking in the wood in the
heat. Ask Auntie to kindly see Mr. Everard in the blue drawing-room till
I come down. I must tidy my hair; but I will be down in a few minutes.'
'Shall I send Marjorie to you, miss?'
'No! Don't mind; I can do what I want myself. Hurry down to Miss
Rowly!'
How she regarded Leonard Everard now was shown in her instinctive
classing him amongst her enemies.
When she entered the room she seemed all aglow. She wanted not only to
overcome but to punish; and all the woman in her had risen to the effort.
Never in her life had Stephen Norman looked more radiantly beautiful,
more adorable, more desirable. Even Leonard Everard felt his pulses
quicken as he saw that glowing mass of beauty standing out against the
cold background of old French tapestry. All the physical side of him
leaped in answer to the call of her beauty; and even his cold heart and
his self-engrossed brain followed with slower gait. He had been sitting
opposite Miss Rowly in one of the windows, twirling his hat in nervous
suspense. He jumped up, and, as she came towards him, went forward
rapidly to greet her. No one could mistake the admiration in his eyes.
Ever since he had made up his mind to marry her she had assumed a new
aspect in his thoughts. But now her presence swept away all false
imaginings; from the moment that her loveliness dawned upon him something
like love began to grow within his breast. Stephen saw the look and it
strengthened her. He had so grievously wounded her pride the previous
day that her victory on this was a compensation which set her more at her
old poise.
Her greeting was all sweetness: she was charmed to see him. How was his
father, and what was the news? Miss Rowly looked on with smiling visage.
She too had seen the look of admiration in his eyes, and it pleased her.
Old ladies, especially when they are maiden ladies, always like to see
admiration in the eyes of young men when they are turned in the direction
of any girl dear to them.
They talked for some time, keeping all the while, by Stephen's clever
generalship, to the small-talk of the neighbourhood and the minor events
of social importance. As the time wore on she could see that Leonard was
growing impatient, and evidently wanted to see her alone. She ignored,
however, all his little private signalling, and presently ordered tea to
be brought. This took some little time; when it had been brought and
served and drunk, Leonard was in a smothered fume of impatience. She was
glad to see that as yet her aunt had noticed nothing, and she still hoped
that she would be able to so prolong matters, that she would escape
without a private interview. She did not know the cause of Leonard's
impatience: that he must see her before the day passed. She too was an
egoist, in her own way; in the flush of belief of his subjugation she did
not think of attributing to him any other motive than his desire for
herself. As she had made up her mind on the final issue she did not want
to be troubled by a new 'scene.'
But, after all, Leonard was a man; and man's ways are more direct than
woman's. Seeing that he could not achieve his object in any other way,
he said out suddenly, thinking, and rightly, that she would not wish to
force an issue in the presence of her aunt:
'By the way, Miss Norman,' he had always called her 'Miss Norman' in her
aunt's presence: 'I want to have two minutes with you before I go. On a
matter of business,' he added, noticing Miss Rowly's surprised look. The
old lady was old-fashioned even for her age; in her time no young man
would have asked to see a young lady alone on business. Except on one
kind of business; and with regard to that kind of business gentlemen had
to obtain first the confidence and permission of guardians. Leonard saw
the difficulty and said quickly:
'It is on the matter you wrote to me about!'
Stephen was prepared for a nasty shock, but hardly for so nasty a one as
this. There was an indelicacy about it which went far beyond the bounds
of thoughtless conventionality. That such an appeal should be made to
her, and in such a way, savoured of danger. Her woman's intuition gave
her the guard, and at once she spoke, smilingly and gently as one
recalling a matter in which the concern is not her own:
'Of course! It was selfish of me not to have thought of it, and to have
kept you so long waiting. The fact is, Auntie, that Leonard--I like to
call him Leonard, since we were children together, and he is so young;
though perhaps it would be more decorous nowadays to say "Mr.
Everard"--has consulted me about his debts. You know, Auntie dear, that
young men will be young men in such matters; or perhaps you do not, since
the only person who ever worried you has been myself. But I stayed at
Oxford and I know something of young men's ways; and as I am necessarily
more or less of a man of business, he values my help. Don't you,
Leonard?' The challenge was so direct, and the position he was in so
daringly put, that he had to acquiesce. Miss Rowly, who had looked on
with a frown of displeasure, said coldly:
'I know you are your own mistress, my dear. But surely it would be
better if Mr. Everard would consult with his solicitor or his father's
agent, or some of his gentlemen friends, rather than with a young lady
whose relations with him, after all, are only those of a neighbour on
visiting terms. For my own part, I should have thought that Mr.
Everard's best course would have been to consult his own father! But the
things that gentlemen, as well as ladies do, have been sadly changed
since my time!' Then, rising in formal dignity, she bowed gravely to the
visitor before leaving the room.
But the position of being left alone in the room with Leonard did not at
all suit Stephen's plans. Rising quickly she said to her aunt:
'Don't stir, Auntie. I dare say you are right in what you say; but I
promised Mr. Everard to go into the matter. And as I have brought the
awkwardness on myself, I suppose I must bear it. If Mr. Everard wants to
see me alone, and I suppose he is diffident in speaking on such a matter
before you--he didn't play with you, you know!--we can go out on the
lawn. We shan't be long!' Before Leonard could recover his wits she had
headed him out on the lawn.
Her strategy was again thoroughly good. The spot she chose, though
beyond earshot, was quite in the open and commanded by all the windows in
that side of the house. A person speaking there might say what he liked,
but his actions must be discreet.
On the lawn Stephen tripped ahead; Leonard followed inwardly raging. By
her clever use of the opening she had put him in a difficulty from which
there was no immediate means of extrication. He could not quarrel
overtly with Stephen; if he did so, how could he enter on the pressing
matter of his debts? He dared not openly proclaim his object in wishing
to marry her, for had he done so her aunt might have interfered, with
what success he could not be sure. In any case it would cause delay, and
delay was what he could not afford. He felt that in mentioning his debts
at just such a movement he had given Stephen the chance she had so aptly
taken. He had to be on his good behaviour, however; and with an
apprehension that was new to him he followed her.
An old Roman marble seat was placed at an angle from the house so that
the one of the two occupants within its curve must almost face the house,
whilst the other gave to it at least a quarter-face. Stephen seated
herself on the near side, leaving to Leonard the exposed position. As
soon as he was seated, she began:
'Now, Leonard, tell me all about the debts?' She spoke in tones of gay
friendliness, but behind the mask of her cheerfulness was the real face
of fear. Down deep in her mind was a conviction that her letter was a
pivotal point of future sorrow. It was in the meantime quite apparent to
her that Leonard kept it as his last resource; so her instinct was to
keep it to the front and thus minimise its power.
Leonard, though inwardly weakened by qualms of growing doubt, had the
animal instinct that, as he was in opposition, his safety was in
attacking where his opponent most feared. He felt that there was some
subtle change in his companion; this was never the same Stephen Norman
whom only yesterday he had met upon the hill! He plunged at once into
his purpose.
'But it wasn't about my debts you asked me to meet you, Stephen.'
'You surprise me, Leonard! I thought I simply asked you to come to meet
me. I know the first subject I mentioned when we began to talk, after
your grumbling about coming in the heat, was your money matters.' Leonard
winced, but went on:
'It was very good of you, Stephen; but really that is not what I came to
speak of to-day. At first, at all events!' he added with a sublime
naivette, as the subject of his debts and his imperative want of money
rose before him. Stephen's eyes flashed; she saw more clearly than ever
through his purpose. Such as admission at the very outset of the proffer
of marriage, which she felt was coming, was little short of monstrous.
Her companion did not see the look of mastery on her face; he was looking
down at the moment. A true lover would have been looking up.
'I wanted to tell you, Stephen, that I have been thinking over what you
said to me in your letter, and what you said in words; and I want to
accept!' As he was speaking he was looking her straight in the face.
Stephen answered slowly with a puzzled smile which wrinkled up her
forehead:
'Accept what I said in my letter! why, Leonard, what do you mean? That
letter must have had a lot more in it than I thought. I seem to remember
that it was simply a line asking you to meet me. Just let me look at it;
I should like to be sure of what actually is!' As she spoke she held out
her hand. Leonard was nonplussed; he did not know what to say. Stephen
made up her mind to have the letter back. Leonard was chafing under the
position forced upon him, and tried to divert his companion from her
purpose. He knew well why she had chosen that exposed position for their
interview. Now, as her outstretched hand embarrassed him, he made
reprisal; he tried to take it in his in a tender manner.
She instantly drew back her hand and put it behind her in a decided
manner. She was determined that whatever might happen she would not let
any watcher at the windows, by chance or otherwise, see any sign of
tenderness on her part. Leonard, thinking that his purpose had been
effected, went on, breathing more freely:
'Your letter wasn't much. Except of course that it gave me the
opportunity of listening to what you said; to all your sweet words. To
your more than sweet proposal!'
'Yes! It must have been sweet to have any one, who was in a position to
do so, offer to help you when you knew that you were overwhelmed with
debts!' The words were brutal. Stephen felt so; but she had no
alternative. Leonard had some of the hard side of human nature; but he
had also some of the weak side. He went on blindly:
'I have been thinking ever since of what you said, and I want to tell you
that I would like to do as you wish!' As he spoke, his words seemed even
to him to be out of place. He felt it would be necessary to throw more
fervour into the proceedings. The sudden outburst which followed
actually amused Stephen, even in her state of fear:
'Oh, Stephen, don't you know that I love you! You are so beautiful! I
love you! I love you! Won't you be my wife?'
This was getting too much to close quarters. Stephen said in a calm,
business-like way:
'My dear Leonard, one thing at a time! I came out here, you know, to
speak of your debts; and until that is done, I really won't go into any
other matter. Of course if you'd rather not . . . ' Leonard really
could not afford this; matters were too pressing with him. So he tried
to affect a cheery manner; but in his heart was a black resolve that she
should yet pay for this.
'All right! Stephen. Whatever you wish I will do; you are the queen of
my heart, you know!'
'How much is the total amount?' said Stephen.
This was a change to the prosaic which made sentiment impossible. He
gave over, for the time.
'Go on!' said Stephen, following up her advantage. 'Don't you even know
how much you owe?'
'The fact is, I don't. Not exactly. I shall make up the amount as well
as I can and let you know. But that's not what I came about to-day.'
Stephen was going to make an angry gesture of dissent. She was not going
to have that matter opened up. She waited, however, for Leonard was
going on after his momentary pause. She breathed more freely after his
first sentence. He was unable evidently to carry on a double train of
thought.
'It was about that infernal money-lenders' letter that the Governor got!'
Stephen got still less anxious. This open acknowledgment of his true
purpose seemed to clear the air.
'What is the amount?' Leonard looked quickly at her; the relief of her
mind made her tone seem joyful.
'A monkey! Five hundred pounds, you know. But then there's three
hundred for interest that has to be paid also. It's an awful lot of
money, isn't it?' The last phrase was added on seeing Stephen's
surprised look.
'Yes!' she answered quietly. 'A great deal of money--to waste!' They
were both silent for a while. Then she said:
'What does your father say to it?'
'He was in an awful wax. One of these beastly duns had written to him
about another account and he was in a regular fury. When I told him I
would pay it within a week, he said very little, which was suspicious;
and then, just when I was going out, he sprung this on me. Mean of him!
wasn't it? I need expect no help from him.' As he was speaking he took
a mass of letters from his pocket and began to look among them for the
money-lenders' letter.
'Why, what a correspondence you have there. Do you keep all your letters
in your pockets?' said Stephen quietly.
'All I don't tear up or burn. It wouldn't do to let the Governor into my
secrets. He might know too much!'
'And are all those letters from duns?'
'Mostly, but I only keep those letters I have to attend to and those I
care for.'
'Show me the bundle!' she said. Then seeing him hesitate, added:
'You know if I am to help you to get clear you must take me into your
confidence. I dare say I shall have to see a lot more letters than these
before you are quite clear!' Her tone was too quiet. Knowing already
the silent antagonism between them he began to suspect her; knowing also
that her own letter was not amongst them, he used his wits and handed
them over without a word. She, too, suspected him. After his tacit
refusal to give her the letter, she almost took it for granted that it
was not amongst them. She gave no evidence of her feeling, however, but
opened and read the letters in due sequence; all save two, which, being
in a female hand, she gave back without a word. There was a calmness and
an utter absence of concern, much less of jealousy, about this which
disconcerted him. Throughout her reading Stephen's face showed surprise
now and again; but when she came to the last, which was that of the
usurers, it showed alarm. Being a woman, a legal threat had certain
fears of its own.
'There must be no delay about this!' she said.
'What am I to do?' he answered, a weight off his mind that the fiscal
matter had been practically entered on.
'I shall see that you get the money!' she said quietly. 'It will be
really a gift, but I prefer it to be as a loan for many reasons.' Leonard
made no comment. He found so many reasons in his own mind that he
thought it wise to forbear from asking any of hers. Then she took the
practical matter in hand:
'You must wire to these people at once to say that you will pay the
amount on the day after to-morrow. If you will come here to-morrow at
four o'clock the money will be ready for you. You can go up to town by
the evening train and pay off the debt first thing in the morning. When
you bring the receipt I shall speak to you about the other debts; but you
must make out a full list of them. We can't have any half-measure. I
will not go into the matter till I have all the details before me!' Then
she stood up to go.
As they walked across the lawn, she said:
'By the way, don't forget to bring that letter with you. I want to see
what I really did say in it!' Her tone was quiet enough, and the wording
was a request; but Leonard knew as well as if it had been spoken outright
as a threat that if he did not have the letter with him when he came
things were likely to be unpleasant.
The farther he got from Normanstand on his way home the more discontented
Leonard grew. Whilst he had been in Stephen's presence she had so
dominated him, not only by her personality but by her use of her
knowledge of his own circumstances, that he had not dared to make protest
or opposition; but now he began to feel how much less he was to receive
than he had expected. He had come prepared to allow Stephen to fall into
his arms, fortune and all. But now, although he had practical assurance
that the weight of his debts would be taken from him, he was going away
with his tail between his legs. He had not even been accepted as a
suitor, he who had himself been wooed only a day before. His proposal of
marriage had not been accepted, had not even been considered by the woman
who had so lately broken ironclad convention to propose marriage to him.
He had been treated merely as a scapegrace debtor who had come to ask
favours from an old friend. He had even been treated like a bad boy; had
been told that he had wasted money; had been ordered, in no doubtful way,
to bring the full schedule of his debts. And all the time he dared not
say anything lest the thing shouldn't come off at all. Stephen had such
an infernally masterly way with her! It didn't matter whether she was
proposing to him, or he was proposing to her, he was made to feel small
all the same. He would have to put up with it till he had got rid of the
debts!
And then as to the letter. Why was she so persistent about seeing it?
Did she want to get it into her hands and then keep it, as Harold An Wolf
had done? Was it possible that she suspected he would use it to coerce
her; she would call it 'blackmail,' he supposed. This being the very
thing he had intended to do, and had done, he grew very indignant at the
very thought of being accused of it. It was, he felt, a very awkward
thing that he had lost possession of the letter. He might need it if
Stephen got nasty. Then Harold might give it to her, as he had
threatened to do. He thought he would call round that evening by
Harold's house, and see if he couldn't get back the letter. It belonged
to him; Harold had no right to keep it. He would see him before he and
Stephen got putting their heads together. So, on his way home, he turned
his steps at once to Harold's house.
He did not find him in. The maid who opened the door could give him no
information; all she could say was that Mrs. Dingle the housekeeper had
got a telegram from Master saying that he had been called suddenly away
on business.
This was a new source of concern to Leonard. He suspected a motive of
some sort; though what that motive could be he could not hazard the
wildest guess. On his way home he called at the post-office and sent a
telegram to Cavendish and Cecil, the name of the usurers' firm, in
accordance with Stephen's direction. He signed it: 'Jasper Everard.'