THE CHURCH DOOR
Celine was a fervent admirer of Lord Severance. Half Greek, she had
heard him called. To her he was wholly Greek: a Greek god. Indeed, he
was miles handsomer than "_cet Apollon en marbre_" adorning a pedestal
in the salon, which statue she tried to drape tastefully with climbing
flowers each morning. His lordship's nose was much the same as Apollo's;
so was his proud air of owning the world and not caring particularly
about it: and to Celine's idea he had more to be proud of than a mere
god who went naked.
Gods had no pockets, and Lord Severance had many, beautifully flat yet
containing banknotes with which he was generous when nobody looked.
Since she could not marry him, Celine wanted Mademoiselle to do so, for
Mademoiselle was her _alter ego_. She shared Mademoiselle's glory and
her dresses. She wished to be maid to a countess--a _chic_ countess, as
the wife of Milord Severance would be. It was desolating that
Mademoiselle should throw everything over because of a silly quarrel (it
must be a quarrel!) and fling herself away on a gawky giant whose
clothes might have been made by a butcher!
Yes, it was easy to see that there had been an upheaval of some sort.
Mademoiselle was not the same since Sunday afternoon, when this huge
personage had arrived by appointment, and Celine had recalled seeing him
on shipboard. To be sure, Milord had come in later, and outstayed the
Monsieur. But it was then the quarrel must have occurred, for
Mademoiselle had been in a state unequalled even after the most trying
dress rehearsals. Oh, it was a mystery--a mystery of the deepest
blackness!
Celine moaned aloud, with a bleating noise, and gabbled _argot_ as she
tidied the belongings which Mademoiselle had flung everywhere.
"If I should call up Milord, how would that be?" she asked herself, and
rushed to the 'phone.
Severance, as it happened, had been on the point of telephoning Mrs.
Sorel, not daring to attempt direct communication with Marise. He had
bad news and good news to give. The bad was that he must sail for
England sooner than expected, in fact, on the following day, or perhaps
not get a cabin for weeks.
The good news was that a friend had offered to lend him a wonderful
house near Los Angeles for the next few months. He had spoken to a
certain Lady Fytche (_nee_ Adela Moyle, of California) about his
marriage, and bringing OEnone across for her health. Whereupon Adela
(who was at his hotel, and sailing on his ship) said, "I'd love to lend
you Bell Towers. The house is standing empty, and you know it's rather
nice."
Severance did know, for Bell Towers was a famous place, illustrated in
magazines; and if Adela Moyle had been prettier, it might have become
his own before she fell back--figuratively speaking--upon a baronet.
If Marise would give up the stage (he couldn't bear to leave her behind
the footlights in New York, admired, interviewed, gossipped about by
Tom, Dick and Harry!), he'd lend Bell Towers to Mrs. Sorel, and the girl
could vanish from public view till time for her farcical marriage and
his own return. If his uncle could be told by himself and the newspapers
that Miss Sorel was _engaged_ to Major Garth, it would be enough to cool
the old boy's suspicions.
Then, as Tony's hand was stretched out for the receiver, came a ring at
the telephone.
"The dentist!" he thought. For he had had to ask for a second
appointment because of that loosened tooth, and was to be called up. It
came as a surprise, therefore, to hear Celine's voice.
He could hardly believe the news which the French maid gave him. Marise
wouldn't do such a thing! There must be a mistake, he told Celine. Or it
was a clumsy joke.
"_Milord, c'est la verite_," came the answer. "Milord need not take my
word. Let him go to the church. Milord may yet be in time. But he must
make haste. It is a long way. I heard Madame telephone and talk."
"I will go--I'll do my best," Severance answered, to put the woman off.
But--what _could_ he do? What was his "best"?
Celine knew nothing of the secret pact. She judged from what she had
overheard, and he could not explain that he didn't see his way to stop
the marriage.
The more he thought, the more clear it became that this sudden move by
Marise was a caprice to spite him--to "hoist him from his own petard."
Severance could almost hear the girl defend herself. "You ought to be
pleased that I took you at your word, before you went away. Otherwise I
might have changed my mind about the whole thing!"
She was sure to say this, and even if he reached the church in time he
wouldn't dare stop the business when it had gone so far. That devil
Garth had a beast of a temper; and a fellow can't at the same moment see
red, and which side his bread is buttered!
Severance hated Garth venomously since the episode at the Belmore. But
the brute was a hero in the States, and would pass in the public eye as
a reasonable husband for Marise Sorel.
Nobody who didn't know the ugly truth would say, "How _could_ that
beautiful girl throw herself away on that _worm_?"
Whatever Garth was, he wasn't a worm. Though he had apparently made no
bones of accepting a million-dollar bribe, deep within his subconscious
self Severance didn't believe that the million was the lure. Garth was
in love with the girl, in his loutish way. Perhaps, even, he might hope
to win some affection from her in return. Tony felt that he need wish
the fool no worse than an attempt to "try it on"!
Force, Severance did not fear. Marise was no flapper. She had her eyes
open. She'd know how to handle a man in Garth's position. Besides, Mums
would be at her side, a pillar of strength. Tony even felt that in some
ways Garth was ideal for the part he had to play. Marise would always
contrast him unfavourably with the man she loved. And hating Garth,
he--Severance--could enjoy the tortures which the paid dummy was doomed
to suffer.
Severance could not keep away from the church. To go was undignified,
yet he knew that he would go.... Five minutes after his talk with
Celine, Tony was in the lift, descending ten storeys of his hotel to the
gilding and marble of the ground floor. As in a dream, he ordered a
taxi. It came; and--self-conscious, as if he were being married
himself--he directed the chauffeur where to drive. Then, still as in a
dream, he stared at his reflection in a small mirror, which bobbed as
the taxi bounced. It was a consolation to see how handsome and
superlatively smart he looked!
He had abandoned his uniform in New York for every-day life; but he was
sure that no man in America had clothes to compare in cut with his,
which had been built at just the right place in Savile Row. His silk hat
was a masterpiece. His tie, his socks, and the orchid in his buttonhole
were all of the same shade, and his opal pin repeated the lights and
shades of colour.
Well, there was one good thing he _could_ accomplish by turning up at
the church. Silently he would show Marise the contrast between a man who
was everything he ought to be, and a man who was everything no man
should be and live!
The chauffeur slowed at last before a church which looked more English
than American, and was perhaps a relic of colonial days. "You can wait,"
said Severance, getting out. "I may ..." But he forgot the rest. In the
porch stood two men, who had evidently just arrived and were talking. It
was more like a dream than ever to see a familiar uniform which at a
glance took Severance home. Both men wore it. The fighting khaki of his
own regiment of the Guards!
The shorter of the two tall officers turned and saw him. It was his own
Colonel; and the other was Garth. Then a second taxi drove up,
containing Marise Sorel and her mother.
Severance would have stepped to the door of their cab, but Garth was
before him.
And so it was, with sunshine striking a line of decorations on the
V.C.'s breast, that Marise got the contrast between the men. An orchid
is beautiful; but the Victoria Cross, even expressed in ribbon, is
better.
"Let me introduce my Colonel, Lord Pobblebrook," said Garth. "He has
brought his wife, who is American, home to this country; and when we ran
across each other this morning he offered to--to see me through here."
"Pobbles"--of whom Marise had heard from Tony--took her hand. "We're
proud of Garth in the regiment," he said, and found time to nod to
Severance. But he looked puzzled. Why was Severance here? To the best of
Pobbles's recollection, Tony had been the ringleader in a set who wanted
to snub Garth out of the Brigade. The Colonel's curiosity woke up.