Mrs. Cricklander awaited Mr. Hanbury-Green's coming quite impatiently.
She felt she wanted a little warmth and humanity after the chilling week
she had passed with her betrothed. What she meant to do with this latter
she had not yet made up her mind--the justice of an affair never
bothered her, and her complete unconsciousness of having committed any
wrong often averted her action's immediate consequence. That Mr.
Hanbury-Green should suffer, or that John Derringham should suffer,
mattered to her not one jot. She was really and truly under the
impression that only her personal comfort, pleasure and feelings were of
any importance in the world. Her brain always guarded these things, and,
when they were not in any jeopardy or fear of being inconvenienced, then
she was capable of numbers of kind and generous actions. And, if she had
ever been reproached about her colossal selfishness, she would have
looked up astonished, and replied:
"Well, who is nearer to oneself than oneself?"
Common sense like this is not to be controverted.
It would only be when she was growing old that she would feel the
loneliness of knowing that, apart from the passion which she had
inspired because of her sex and her beauty, not a single human being had
ever loved her. For the present she was Venus Victrix, a glorious
creature, the desired of men--and that was enough.
Mr. Hanbury-Green was a forceful person, unhampered by any of the
instincts of a gentleman, and therefore armed with a number of weapons
for winning his battles. He had determined to rise to the top upon the
wave of class hatred which he had been clever enough to create, and he
neither knew nor cared to what state of devastation he might bring the
country. He was a fitting mate in every way for Cecilia Cricklander, and
completely equipped to play with her at her own game.
So, when they met in her sitting-room in the Florentine hotel, each
experienced a pleasurable emotion.
His was tempered--or augmented--by a blunt and sufficiently brutal
passion, which only the ideal of circumspect outward conduct which
dominates the non-conformist lower middle classes, from which he had
sprung, kept him from demonstrating, by seizing his desired prize in his
arms.
He was frankly in love, and meant to leave no stone unturned to oust
John Derringham from his position as _fiancé_ of the lady--John
Derringham, whom he hated from the innermost core of his heart!
Mrs. Cricklander fenced with him admirably. She did not need Arabella's
coachings in her dealings with him; he was quite uncultured, and
infinitely more appreciated what her old father had been used to call
her "horse sense" than he would have done her finest rhapsody upon
Nietzsche. Mrs. Cricklander had indeed with him that delightful sense of
rest and ceasing from toil that being herself gave. She felt she could
launch forth into as free a naturalness as if she had been selling
little pigs' feet in her grandfather's original shop. And all to a man
who was rising--rising in that great country of England, where some day
he might play a _rôle_ no less than Tallien's, and she could be "Notre
dame de Thermidor."
Arabella had once told her of this lady's story, and she felt that the
time in Bordeaux when the beautiful Thérèse wore the red cap of Liberty
and hung upon the arm of one who had swum in the blood of the
aristocrats, must have been an experience worth having in life. Her
study of Madame Tallien went no further; it was the lurid revolutionary
part in her career that she liked.
Mr. Hanbury-Green was very careful at first. He was quite aware that he
was only received with _empressement_ because he was successful; he knew
and appreciated the fact that Cecilia Cricklander only cared for members
of a winning side. He felt like that about people himself, and he
respected her for the way she fought to secure a footing among the hated
upper classes, and then trampled upon their necks. There were no shades
of her character which would have disgusted or dismayed him; even the
knowledge that her erudition was merely parrot-talk, would only have
appealed to his admiration as a further proof of her sagacity.
They went on to Venice the day after he arrived, with Arabella to make a
chaperoning third, and for the first two days afterwards Cecilia kept
him at arm's length, but not waiting for his dinner! Some instinct told
her that in his home circle he would probably have been accustomed to
worthy, punctual women, and, while she enjoyed tantalizing him, she knew
that he had a nasty temper and could not be provoked too far. No bonds
of honor or chivalry would control his actions as they would those of
John Derringham. She was dealing with as lawless a being as herself, and
it was very refreshing. Mr. Hanbury-Green knew her one weak point--she
was intensely sensitive of the world's opinion, as are all people who
inwardly know they are shams. She would have hated to be the center of a
scandal, from the point of view that it would irreparably close doors to
her; and her resentment of barriers and barrier-makers was always
present.
This he would remember as his strong card--the last to be played.--If
she continued being capricious until the moment of her _fiancé's_
expected return, he would use all his cunning--and it was no
inconsiderable quantity--and compromise her irrevocably, and so get her
to surrender upon his terms. For he had made up his mind, as he sped to
Florence, that Cecilia Cricklander should return to England as his wife.
They had four days of the usual gay parties for every meal--there
happened to be a number of people passing through and staying at
Venice--and the early September weather was glorious and very hot.
Mrs. Cricklander delighted in a gondola. There was something about it
which set off her stately beauty, she felt, and she reveled in the
admiration she provoked; and so did Mr. Hanbury-Green--he prized that
which the crowd applauded. But time was passing, and nothing the least
definite was settled yet, although he knew he had obtained a certain
mastery over her.
On the Friday evening a telegram was received from John Derringham
saying he would return on the Saturday night, and Mr. Hanbury-Green felt
this was the moment to act. He had no intention of having any quarrel
with his rival, or of putting himself in the position of being called
upon to give an account of himself. The news of his dismissal must be
conveyed to John Derringham by the lady as that lady's free and
determined choice.
So Mr. Green was very cautious all the Friday evening, and made himself
as irresistible as he could, using all his clever wits to flatter and
cajole Cecilia, and leaving not a trifle unconsidered which could
interfere with his plans.
They were simple enough.
He claimed to have discovered a quite new and quite charming spot on the
Lido, which he was most anxious to take Mrs. Cricklander to see
alone--he put a stress upon the word _alone_, and looked into her eyes.
They would go quite early and be back before tea, as John Derringham had
timed himself to arrive upon the mainland about seven o'clock, and would
be at the Daniellis, where they were all staying, for dinner.
Mrs. Cricklander felt she must have one more delightful afternoon, and,
as this excursion might contain a spice of adventure, it thrilled her
blood. She had been exquisitely discreet--in public--forcing Arabella
always to talk to Mr. Hanbury-Green, and devoting herself to Lady
Maulevrier, or any other lady or old gentleman who happened to be
present. And then she felt free to spend long hours alone with Mr.
Hanbury-Green in her sitting-room, whose balcony hung over the beautiful
canal. No one could say a word--Arabella's discretion could always be
counted upon; and pleasure was secured.
She looked, perhaps, more beautiful than she had ever done in her life
as they started. Mr. Hanbury-Green had hired a special gondola, not the
one they were accustomed to float about in,--and off they went. Where
was the harm, in broad daylight! and with Arabella to accompany them--as
far as the last steps, and then to be dropped? Cecilia felt like a
school-girl on a forbidden treat.
When they were well out of sight of all observation, Mr. Hanbury-Green
began. He told her that he loved her, in all the most impressive
language he was master of; he felt that with her he might with safety
and success use the same flamboyant metaphors and exaggerations with
which he was accustomed to move his constituents. No restraint or
attention to accuracy was necessary here. And if his voice in his honest
excitement would have sounded a little cockney in Arabella's cultured
ears, Cecilia Cricklander did not notice it. On the contrary, she
thought the whole thing was the finest-sounding harangue she had ever
heard in her life.
He went on to say that he could not live without her, and implored her
to throw over John Derringham and promise to be his wife.
"He thinks you are madly in love with him, darling," he said, knowing
this would sting, "and will stand any of his airs. Let him see you are
not. Give him the snub he deserves for deserting you, and fling his
dismissal in his face."
Cecilia Cricklander reddened and thrilled, too. Here, at all events, was
warmth. But she was not won yet. So she looked down, as if too full of
emotion to speak. She must gain time to consider what this would mean,
and, if worth while, how to lay her plans.
Should the scheme contain certain elevation for herself and certain
humiliation for John Derringham, then there was something worthy of
consideration in it, for undoubtedly Percy Hanbury-Green suited her the
better of the two, as far as just the men themselves were concerned. She
knew she would get desperately tired of having to live up to John
Derringham's standard, and a divorce in England would not be so easily
obtained or so free from scandal, as her original one in America had
been. But she must think well, and weigh the matter before plunging in.
Mr. Hanbury-Green saw her hesitation and instantly applied another
forceful note. He dwelt upon the political situation and grew eloquent
and magnetic, as when he was on the platform--for was he not playing for
stakes which, for the moment, he valued even more than some thousands of
votes?
It was no wonder Cecilia Cricklander's imagination grew inflamed. He let
her see that as his wife she would, for seven years or more, ride on the
crest of the wave of an ever-rising tide to undreamed-of heights of
excitement and intrigue. "With you at my side, darling," Mr. Green said
passionately, "I could be stimulated into being Dictator myself. The
days of kings and constitutions are over. The people want a strong
despotic leader who has first brought about their downfall. And they
will get him--in ME!"
This clinched the matter, and Cecilia, seeing visions of herself as
Madame Tallien, allowed herself to be drawn into his arms!
* * * * *
"Do you know, my beauty," the triumphant lover said as they floated back
to pick up Arabella upon the last steps, rather late in the afternoon,
"I had meant to get you somehow to-day. If you had refused to listen, I
intended to take you to the Lido and keep you there all night--the
gondolier and the people there are bribed--then you would have had no
choice but to marry me. Oh, you cannot balk me!"
And all Cecilia Cricklander replied was, with a girlish giggle of
pleasure:
"Oh, Percy, dear!"
In the innermost recesses of their hearts there are a number of cold
women who adore a bold buccaneer!
She had made one stipulation with him before they landed, and this was
one which in the future--little as she knew it then--would rob her of
all her triumph over John Derringham, and plant an everlasting and
bitter sting in her breast.
She insisted that, as she did not wish to create a nine days' wonder, no
mention of his engagement to herself should be made public by Mr.
Hanbury-Green for at least a month after people were aware that she had
closed hers with John Derringham. All should be done with decency and in
order, so as not to militate in any way against her future position as
queen of the winning side.
And, knowing that he had already telegraphed the announcement that the
marriage arranged between the Right Honorable John Derringham and Mrs.
Vincent Cricklander would not take place, so that it should appear in
the Monday morning papers--Mr. Hanbury-Green felt he could safely comply
with her caprice and bide his time. He had not the slightest intention
of ever permitting a whim of hers to interfere with his real wishes in
any way, and having a full command of her own weapons and methods, he
looked forward to a time of uninterrupted bliss when once she should be
his wife. To dissemble for a month or so would not hurt him, and might
even amuse him as a new game.
So they entered Daniellis in subdued triumph, and said good night before
Arabella, with prim decorum, and then Cecilia mounted to make herself
look beautiful for the flinging of his _congé_ in John Derringham's
face.