BLAYTHORN RECTORY
Dick, when he had left Mountfield, trotted on at a slightly faster pace
than he had hitherto come, in the direction of Blaythorn, and did not
draw rein until he came to that rectory concerning whose occupancy his
relations and connections were so exercised. It was a dull house, with
a short, weed-grown drive behind a rather shabby brick wall and an
overgrown shrubbery, on the outskirts of the village. He got off his
horse and rang the bell, which was presently answered by a smart
parlourmaid, who gave him a discreet smile of welcome, and whisked off
at his request, with a flourish of petticoats, to fetch a groom from
the stableyard hard by. Then she showed him into the drawing-room,
where two women were sitting by the fire, one of whom rose to greet him
with an exclamation of pleasure, while the other gathered up her work
deliberately and prepared to leave the room.
Lady George Dubec was a tall, slender woman in the early thirties, or
possibly only in the late twenties. Her face was a little worn, but
her eyes were deep and lustrous, and her features delicate. When she
smiled she was beautiful. Her dark hair was elaborately braided; her
slim figure looked well in a black gown of soft folds. She had thin,
almost transparent hands, covered with jewels. She moved gracefully,
and her voice was low, but clear and musical, with only the suspicion
of an un-English intonation.
"Oh, Dick, what a godsend you are," she said as she gave him both her
hands. "Toby and I were wondering how on earth we were going to get
through the rest of the afternoon and evening."
"I wasn't wondering at all," said the other lady, who had now also
risen and shaken hands with the visitor. "I knew you would come. So
did Virginia, really. We were talking about you. I will now retire to
another apartment and leave you alone."
"Indeed you'll do no such thing," said Virginia Dubec, taking her by
the shoulders and pushing her back into her chair. "We will have the
lights and tea--although it is early--and a talk of three together.
We're all friends, and you're not going to sit alone."
"Of course not," said Dick. "A nice sort of state you'd work yourself
up into against me! I know you, Miss Dexter."
She took her seat again and unrolled her work. She was short and
rather plain, with sandy-coloured hair and square-tipped fingers. She
had not smiled since Dick had entered the room.
"Oh, I don't deny that I'm jealous," she said. "I've had her to myself
for three years, and you have come and stolen her away from me. But
it's a harmless sort of jealousy. It doesn't make me object to you.
It only makes me wonder sometimes."
"What do you wonder?" asked Dick, standing up before the fire and
looking down at her with a glance that immediately transferred itself
to her companion, on whom his eyes rested with an expression that had a
hint of hunger in it.
Virginia answered for her. "She wonders what there is in a man for a
woman to cling to--and especially after _my_ experience. She thinks a
woman's friendship ought to be enough. _She_ wants no other. We talk
over these things together, but we don't quarrel. She knows that I
shall always love her, don't you, Toby?"
"Perhaps I do, perhaps I don't," said Miss Dexter. "But we needn't
discuss these matters before Captain Dick. I'll ring for the lights
and the tea."
Dick breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. He was not at home in the
discussions of abstract questions. "How do you find yourself here,
Virginia?" he asked, looking round him. "You have made this room very
jolly, anyhow."
"That's what Mr. Marsh said, in his own particular way," she said, with
a smile. "He said, 'If I'd known a woman could do this sort of thing
to a house, I'd have married a wife years ago.'"
"And of course Virginia immediately suggested he should marry me," said
Miss Dexter. "She is so generous with her belongings."
"It made us very good friends," said Lady George. "A joke of that sort
always does. We shall carry it on till the end of my tenancy, and then
he will propose to Toby. You'll see, Dick."
"I shouldn't blame him," said Dick. "The stables aren't so very bad,
are they?"
"Oh, Wilson says they'll do. But I wish you had been able to get me a
brighter house, Dick. It is rather depressing, in spite of all my
furbishing and knick-knacks."
"My dear girl, it was absolutely the only one within reach. We don't
let houses for hunting hereabouts. You wait till you see the
dower-house. I was there this morning, and really I'd no idea what a
jolly little place it is. With the few alterations I'm going to make,
and all the jolly old furniture, it will be a topping place. You'll
fall in love with it, Virginia."
She sighed. "There are some fences to take before we land up there,"
she said. "I'm rather frightened about it all, Dick. When will your
mother come and see me? Have you told her I am here yet?"
"No," he said shortly. "I shall tell them this evening."
Miss Dexter dropped her work in her lap with a gesture of impatience,
and looked up at him. "_Why_ haven't you told them?" she asked. "Are
you ashamed of her?"
Dick's face flushed and his lips tightened. "That isn't a proper
question to ask, Miss Dexter," he said. "I know what I'm about, and so
does Virginia."
"My dear Toby, for goodness' sake don't make him angry," said Lady
George. "I'm frightened of him when he looks like that."
Dick forced a smile. "My father is a good sort, but he wants
managing," he said. "I'll state the case quite plainly once more, as
Miss Dexter sees fit to question my action."
"Oh, good gracious!" put in that lady, "I'm not worth all these heavy
guns."
"Toby! Toby!" expostulated her friend.
The maid came in at that moment with a lamp and stayed to draw curtains
and light candles. Dick dislodged himself from his stand in front of
the fire and took a chair, but left it to the two women to carry on a
desultory conversation until they were left alone again. Then he rose
once more. "Look here," he said. "We've got to have this out once for
all. I'm not going to be twitted for my actions, Miss Dexter."
"Well, please have it out," she said. "I'm listening."
"You are the most tiresome creature in the world," said Lady George.
"I don't want to say anything to hurt you, Virginia," Dick went on,
"but the name you bear would set my father against you--violently."
"Oh, my dear Dick!" she said, "you don't hurt me in the least, but why
go into all that? We understand each other. Toby, I feel as if I
could beat you."
"Well," said Dick. "I won't say any more about that, but you have got
to remember it. But there are prejudices to get over besides. He
wants me to make the usual sort of marriage with a--oh, you know the
sort of female child fellows like me are supposed to marry--his mind is
running on it now, and he actually tackled me about it last night.
He's got the young person all ready--that's the sort of man he is--my
cousin, Grace Ettien. I said, No, thank you, and I told him I didn't
want to marry a youngster--wouldn't, anyway. It's no good beating
about the bush, Virginia--until he sees you--_until_ he sees you,
mind--you don't fill the bill."
"That's a pleasant way of putting it," said Miss Dexter.
"I won't have another word," said Lady George decisively. "You two are
just annoying each other. Dick, my dear, I think it's just sweet of
you to put all your faith in that seeing of me. I adore you for it.
It eases all my spiritual aches and pains. Toby, you irritating
creature, can't you see how lovely it is of him? If he were all wrong
about having me come down here, I shouldn't care. He has done it
because he believes in his heart of hearts that his people have only
got to set eyes on me and all their objections will vanish into thin
air."
"I don't say that quite--I don't know," said Dick.
"Well, you needn't go and spoil it," said Miss Dexter. "I was just
going to say that it did make up for a good deal."
"Look here, Miss Dexter," said Dick. "If I were to go and tell my
father straight off that I am going to marry Virginia he would be all
over bristles at once. All the things that don't matter a hang beside
what she is, and what every one can see she is who knows her, would be
brought up, and he'd put himself into a frantic state about it. He
wouldn't let me bring her to Kencote; he'd fight blindly with every
weapon he could use. I'm heir to a fine property, and I'm as well off
as I need be, even while my father is alive, as long as I don't set
myself against all his dislikes and prejudices. If I do, he can make
me a poor man, and he'd do it. He'd do anything by which he thought he
could get his way. I shouldn't even be able to marry, unless I lived
on my wife's money, which I won't do."
"No, you're too proud for that," said Miss Dexter.
"Put it how you like. I won't do it. I'll take all a wife can give me
except money. That I'll give. If there were no other way, I'd break
down his opposition. I know how to treat him, and I could do it; but
it would take time; I should cut myself off from Kencote until I had
brought him under, and Virginia's name would be bandied about here, in
the place where we are going to live all our lives, in a way that would
affect us always, and in a way I won't subject her to. He'd do that,
although he might be sorry for having done it afterwards, and I don't
think I should be able to put up with it. We might quarrel in such a
way that we shouldn't be able to come together again, and the harm
would be done. As I say, if there were no other way I would run the
risk. But there is another way, and I'm taking it. You asked me a
foolish question just now--if I was ashamed of Virginia. It is because
I am so far from being ashamed of her--because I'm so proud of
her--that I asked her to come down here, where he can get to know her
before he has any idea that I'm going to marry her. _She_ can make her
way, and make him forget all the rest. Now, what have you got against
that? Let's have it plainly."
"Dear Dick!" said Virginia softly. "I have had many compliments paid
me, but that is the best of all. Answer him, Toby, and don't keep up
this tiresome irritation any longer. It spoils everything."
"Well, I'll give in," said Miss Dexter. "But in my inmost soul I'm
against all this policy, and if your father isn't quite blind, Captain
Dick, he will see through it, and you will be worse off than before."
"My father can't see through anything," said Dick. "Besides, there's
nothing to see through. I shouldn't mind telling him--in fact, I
_shall_ tell him--that it was I who advised Virginia to come down here.
He knows I have heaps of friends all over the place that he doesn't
know of. Virginia is one of them, for the present."
"I hope everything will turn out well," said Miss Dexter after a slight
pause. "I won't say I think you're right, but I'll say you may be, and
I hope you are. And I won't worry you with any more doubts."
Virginia Dubec rose from her chair impulsively and kissed her. "My
darling old Toby!" she said. "You are very annoying at times, but I
couldn't do without you."
After tea Miss Dexter went out of the room, and they did not try to
stop her. When they were left alone Dick held Virginia in his arms and
looked into her eyes. "What have you done to me," he asked her, with a
smile, "after all these years?"
"Am I really the first, Dick?" she asked him.
"You are the first, Virginia--and the only one. You have changed
everything. I have always thought I had everything I wanted. Now I
know I've had nothing."
"And I have had nothing, either," she said. "Every morning I wake up
wondering what has happened to me. And when I remember I begin to
sing. To think that at my age, and after my bitter experience, _this_
should come to me! Oh, Dick, you don't know how much I love you."
"I know how much I love _you_," he said. "If there were no other way I
would give up Kencote and everything else for you. I love you enough
for that, Virginia, and the things I would give up for you are the only
things I have valued so far. But we won't give up anything, my girl.
My good old obstinate old father will fall at your feet when he knows
you."
"Will he, Dick?"
"_I_ have fallen at your feet, Virginia, and I'm rather like my father,
although I think I can see a bit further into things, and I have a
little more control over my feelings--and my speech."
They had sat down side by side on a sofa, and Dick was holding her
slender hand in his brown one.
"I used to think you had so much control over yourself that it would be
impossible ever to get anything out of you," she said. "You are so
frightfully and terrifyingly English."
He laughed. "That gnat-like friend of yours has the power to make me
explain myself," he said. "I've never tried to talk over any one to my
side as I do her. I have always taken my own way and let people think
what they like."
"I think it is sweet of you to put yourself--and me--right with her,
Dick. She has been the best friend that I ever had, except you, dear
Dick. She stood by me in the worst days, and put up with untold
insults without flinching, so that she could stay with me. Of course,
at first, she was terrified lest I should make another mistake. She is
like a grim watch-dog over me. But she likes you, and trusts you. You
must put up with her little ways."
"Oh, I do, my dear, and I will. She's a good sort."
"Dick, will your mother like me? You have never told me very much
about her. I think I feel more nervous about her than about your
father."
"You needn't, Virginia. She is one of the best of women. I think she
is perhaps a little difficult to know. She is rather silent and keeps
her thoughts to herself; but I know we shall have her on our side. She
has only to know you. But in any case she wouldn't give us any
trouble."
"That sounds rather hard, Dick. Don't you love your mother? I loved
mine."
"Of course I do. But she doesn't interfere with us. She never did.
It was my father we had to consider, even when we were boys."
"Interfere with you! I don't like the sound of it. Dick, I don't
think I will talk to you about your mother. I will wait until I have
seen her. You don't help me to know what she is like. I hope I shall
get on with her. I shall know soon. Will she be at the meet on
Monday, if there is one?"
"No. But my father will. I shall introduce him to you then. I told
you he had a foolish prejudice against women hunting, didn't I? It
won't be quite the most propitious of times. But we can't help that."
"Well, I won't hunt on Monday, then. I will drive Toby to the meet
instead, and follow on wheels."
"H'm. Perhaps it would be better--just at the first go off. And I
don't believe you really care as much about hunting as you think you
do, Virginia."
She looked into his face with her dark, sweet eyes. "I don't care
about anything, except to please you, Dick," she said. "As for
hunting--it was the excitement--to keep my mind off. It was the only
thing he let me do, over here. I believe he would have liked me to
kill myself, and sometimes I used to try to."
He put his hand before her mouth. "You are not to talk about those bad
times," he said.
She kissed his hand, and removed it. "I like to, sometimes," she said.
"It is such a blessed relief to think of them as quite gone--it is like
the cessation of bad neuralgia--just a sense of peace and bliss.
Perhaps I didn't really try to kill myself, but certainly I shouldn't
have cared if I had. It was not caring that gave me my reputation, I
suppose, for I didn't mind where I went or what I did. I do care now.
I don't think I should very much mind giving it up altogether."
"Well, you mustn't do that for this winter, at any rate. You shall do
what you like afterwards. And as for your reputation, my dear, I'm
afraid we are so out of the smart hunting world in South Meadshire that
you will find very few of us aware of it. So you needn't run any risks
in trying to keep it up."
"Very well, Dick. But I expect when the hounds begin to run I shall
forget that I have to be cautious. Yes, I do love it. I don't want to
give up hunting. And there won't be much for me to do here outside
that, will there?"
"I'm afraid I am condemning you to a dull three months, my poor
Virginia. But I want you to get to know the country, and love it, as I
do. Kencote means a lot to me. I want it to mean a lot to you too."
"So it shall. I love it already, for your sake, and it seems a
wonderful thing to me that you and all the people you have sprung from
should have been settled down just in this little spot in the world for
all those centuries. Dick dear, I know you are giving up a lot for me.
I know, although I wasn't brought up in all these traditions, that your
father is right, really, and that it is not a woman like me you ought
to choose for your wife."
Dick raised her hand and let it fall with his own. "I have chosen you
for my wife, Virginia, out of all the women I have known. I love and
honour you, and I wouldn't have you different--not in the smallest
particular. No Clinton of Kencote has ever chosen a wife more worthy
to bear his name. Let that be enough for you, and don't worry your
pretty head about anything, except to make love to my old father when
you meet him."
When Dick had ridden away, in the gloaming, and the two women were left
to themselves for the long evening, Virginia Dubec said to Miss Dexter,
"Toby, tell me the truth; don't you think I am the most fortunate woman
in the world?"
"If all goes well," said the other soberly and decisively, "I think you
will be happy. But your Dick, Virginia, is the sort of man who will
want to rule, and to rule without question. He is very much in love
with you now--that is quite plain, although he is one of those men who
hold themselves in. But you won't get your way, my dear, when you are
married, unless it is his way too--any more than you did before."
"Oh, my own way! What do I care about that? My way shall be his way.
I love him and I can trust him. He is a strong man, and tender too.
Toby, I adore him. I will do everything in the world that I can to
make him happy. He has raised me out of the dust, and given me to
myself again. When I am married to him I shall forget all the pain and
misery. It's a new life he is giving me, Toby, and the old unhappy
life will fall from me and be as if it had never been."
"You are expecting a great deal, Virginia," said Miss Dexter; "I hope
some part of it will be realised."