The letter, which Amethyst had posted with so much distress of mind, had
been answered by a little note from Major Fowler, offering to take
charge of the amethysts, if they could be privately handed over to him
at Loseby. He would make the opportunity, he said, if Miss Haredale
would watch for indications of the right moment.
Amethyst approved of selling the amethysts, and, hateful as was the
secrecy with regard to Lucian, she braced herself up to the effort, with
a sense of martyrdom. Lady Haredale contrived to work on her feelings,
and bewilder her mind, and would have influenced her still further, if
she had understood better the views that would influence an innocent and
high-minded girl. Lady Haredale, with all her experience, and all her
fine ladyhood, had the delight of a school-girl in sentimental
mysteries. As she believed all her relations with "Tony" to be quite
innocent, not to say praiseworthy, she confided much of them to
Amethyst, finding even her daughter a better confidant than no one.
Otherwise, no doubt, the affair could have been managed in a simpler
fashion.
Amethyst listened, and half believed that her mother had been Tony's
good angel, but that stupid conventionalities obliged all this caution.
She was so much puzzled by Una, that her mother's light treatment of the
matter seemed to her possibly the best and wisest. It was easier to
fall back on the idea that Una talked exaggerated nonsense, than to
recognise that Lady Haredale did so.
She managed, when at Loseby, to follow Major Fowler's lead with a skill
and self-possession that surprised herself; and which made him smile,
and think to himself that none of Lady Haredale's daughters found a
little plotting unnatural.
But, when she found herself alone with him in the turfed walk, she froze
up into shy dignity.
"My mother desired me to say that you had shown her so much kindness,
that she ventures to trouble you once more," she said; so translating
Lady Haredale's message--"Tell dear old Tony that he is always my
resource, and I know he'll never fail me."
Major Fowler looked at her curiously. He did not quite see why she was
put forward for what Lady Haredale must have known would be a painful
interview, unless her mother thought that her fresh beauty would make
him waver in his purpose, and soften what he meant to say. He did not
know how far she comprehended the errand on which she had been sent.
But the easiest course was to take it for granted that she understood it
all as well as Una would have done, and had been chosen as a messenger
because her secrecy could be better depended upon.
"You see, my dear young lady," said Major Fowler, twirling his
moustaches, as he walked close beside her, "bachelor pleasures must come
to an end. I am no end grateful to Lady Haredale for all she did for a
poor lonely fellow, giving one the run of the house, and treating one
like a--cousin. Any little service I could render, was quite part of
the plan, as you may say. But _now_--it wouldn't be possible."
"My mother understood that you consented to--to manage about the
jewels," said Amethyst, abruptly.
"Your precious namesakes? Oh yes, I'll manage that little piece of
business. But I am afraid the other request in her letter is--well--a
slight anachronism--if you understand?"
His tone jarred intensely on Amethyst, she could not tell whether it was
purposely offensive or only jesting. But she felt that he meant to make
her understand--something.
"I did not know that my mother had asked you to do anything else," she
said.
"No?--That she asked me once more to act as her banker? Under present
circumstances I must regret to be unable to do so. Of course it's been
an honour and a pleasure; but you will, I am sure, convince her
ladyship, that I must resign the situation, its pleasures and
emoluments, and--its responsibilities."
"But, if the amethysts are sold--perhaps she might be able to pay you
the money back?" said Amethyst, with childish directness.
He looked at her scared face, he heard the distress in her tone, and
answered with a different accent.
"Oh no, my dear Miss Haredale, no.--That is a closed score."
"If I could pay the money, I would not close it," suddenly exclaimed the
girl, clenching her hands in their delicate gloves. "You--you bought
the right to insult us--and--you have done harm for which no money can
pay! My mother _does_ believe in you," she went on--"she thinks you are
very good, and that you are fond of us and a real friend. She trusted
you with my little sisters, and you made jokes with them, that _you_
knew were not right; and now you break it all off, because you think
Miss Verrequers will blame you, if she hears. If you love her, you
would like to tell her the truth. My mother is not selfish, she was
glad to hear you had good fortune, though she knew that she would miss
you, though she is very sorry to part with you. You should not look
like that, and speak in that voice, when you speak of her to me."
"No, Miss Haredale, I should not," said Major Fowler. "Nor should you
have been sent on this errand. Unselfish! Good heavens! Give me the
packet, and I will make all further communications direct to Lady
Haredale. I assure you--" and he looked full at the girl, and pulled
his moustaches hard, while he continued--"The situation is a little
unusual, but I have the very greatest respect for Lady Haredale, and all
her family. It's all perfectly square, I assure you. Don't distress
yourself."
He bent closely over her as he took the packet from her hand, and before
she could answer, they both became aware of the presence of Sylvester
Riddell, and Amethyst, confused and ashamed, feeling herself to blame
for losing her temper and her dignity, hardly knowing whether he was
very kind or very hateful, had to pull herself together and play her
part. So well she did it, that Major Fowler muttered to himself as he
turned away, "That's a good girl--but she'd soon be a bad one, if she
was left to her mother." Amethyst herself was surprised to find that
there was a kind of excitement in managing well, and, even when she was
alone with Lucian, her feeling was rather that of pushing aside the
hateful burden, than of wishing to confide it to him. She wanted to
think of him, not of her life apart from him. Mutual confidence is a
plant of slower growth than mutual love. Besides, though she could not
have put it definitely to herself, she had an instinctive dread of his
stern clear judgment, and would not have had him guess at Una's folly
for the world.
The real reason, therefore, why she was unwilling to be absorbed by her
lover, was her desire to keep Una out of dangerous interviews; she was
uneasy if both she and Major Fowler were out of sight. It was in search
of her that she came into the conservatory, and almost immediately
finding Miss Verrequers, and seeing Major Fowler come forward to join
her, she never imagined that Una was far cleverer than herself at such a
game, and had managed a moment's fatal meeting and parting, so
immediately after Amethyst had passed through the conservatory, that the
two spectators, whose minds were full of the preconceived idea that
Amethyst was there, and who were not accustomed to attribute so womanly
an appearance to Una, never dreamed of the mistake they were making.
Conflicting feelings wound Amethyst up to a kind of defiance, and when
she came home, she repeated to her mother almost word for word what
"Tony" had said to her.
"Ah," said Lady Haredale, "poor fellow! He was angry because I did not
speak to him myself! But I think it's right to be _so_ prudent! And
besides, if my lord heard about the debts just now, he would be so
angry. He doesn't mind getting into debt himself; but he does so
dislike my borrowing money, even from an intimate friend."
Amethyst could have said "I am glad to hear it." She was more miserable
than she knew, as she lay awake in the summer morning, thinking, not of
her approaching wedding, but of the miserable complications in which she
had been so suddenly involved.
Maidenly instinct, all the upright impulses of a good and truthful girl,
revolted against the situation. Still, it was "mother," and perhaps
things might in this one instance be different from what they seemed.
She meant to behave as usual in the morning, but the radiant happiness
that had of late been usual with her, could not be assumed at will.
She went out into the garden after breakfast to gather roses, and as she
walked along the path under the cypress hedge, stopping here and there
to pick and to admire, a step in the wood made her start and look up.
It was not Lucian, but his mother.
She crossed the stile with the slow, but secure movements of a country
lady, no longer slim and active, but to whom stiles have never ceased to
be familiar, and approached Amethyst, who ran to meet her with a pretty
look of welcome.
Mrs Leigh was a good woman. Deeply as she resented what she believed
to be her son's betrayal, to save the reputation, and, if possible,
touch the conscience of this eighteen-year-old girl, to give her every
chance of explaining herself, was her firm intention. She had come
herself and alone to face a most painful interview, before saying one
word to Lucian on the subject.
"Oh, Mrs Leigh," said Amethyst, "you have just come in time to have
some roses!"
"I think you must know why I have come, Amethyst," said Mrs Leigh, who
was too sincere a person, and in too nervous a mood, to fence.
There was guilt in a moment on Amethyst's face, and guilt, though not
her own, in her heart; for her thoughts flew to her mother's secret,
innocent as she felt herself to be.
"No," she said, "but I am glad to see you."
She tried to keep her secret, and when Amethyst was in any way playing a
part, she played it with her mother's soft tones and languid grace.
"Amethyst," said Mrs Leigh, "there is no use in concealment. You shall
tell me your own story; but I must ask you to explain your--interview
with Major Fowler. Tell me the truth, my dear, I have come first to ask
yourself. It is no hearsay, I saw your parting with him."
"I dare say you did--what then?" said Amethyst. "So did Mr Riddell.
There is nothing--what should there be to explain?"
"Yes, Amethyst, I know Mr Riddell saw you. But oh, my dear, what if my
poor Lucian had seen you then?"
"What then?" said Amethyst. She was angry; but she was still more
frightened and conscious of her secret. She fancied that Mrs Leigh had
seen her give Major Fowler the packet.
"What then? Oh, Amethyst, tell the truth at least."
"You had better ask my mother. There she is!" said Amethyst.
Her manner was haughty, but it was as a sort of refuge from fear. She
was still so young, and so accustomed to give an account of her conduct,
that it did not occur to her to resent the inquiries. How she could
elude them was her first thought!
"My dear Mrs Leigh," said Lady Haredale, all smiles and pleasant
greeting, "you are an early visitor. This lovely weather makes an early
bird even of a Londoner like me. And here is a telegram from my lord,
to say he is coming home unexpectedly to-day. I don't think I've a
dinner fit for him! Lucian is not particular just at present, our
scrambling meals suit him."
"Lady Haredale," said Mrs Leigh, unable to be otherwise than formal, "I
have come on most painful business. I had hoped to hear the truth from
Amethyst, but perhaps, as she suggests, it is right for me to speak to
you."
She had been sitting in one of the deep recesses of the hedge, and now
resumed her seat, as Lady Haredale placed herself beside her, while
Amethyst stood, erect and silent, fronting them both.
Lady Haredale looked at her keenly, even while she spoke in a
sympathetic voice to Mrs Leigh.
"There is something the matter?"
"I must speak plainly," said Mrs Leigh. "Amethyst's behaviour
altogether puzzled me yesterday. I saw her hold a secret interview with
your newly-engaged friend, Major Fowler. I saw them part with--a kiss
given and taken."
Lady Haredale gave a little start.
"Oh," she said, "oh, my dear Mrs Leigh, that was not quite right of
him. He should remember Amethyst's position now. But they are all
little girls to him, mere babies still. But it was indiscreet."
"Mother!" cried Amethyst, with passion such as Mrs Leigh's words had
failed to rouse, "he never kissed me! He does not think me a little
girl! It is a mistake. You did not see right," she added, turning to
Mrs Leigh and speaking with childish directness. "He did stand very
near me, but, indeed, he did not kiss me!"
"I was in the conservatory, Amethyst," said Mrs Leigh, coldly.
"But I never was in the conservatory with Major Fowler," said Amethyst.
"It was not there--"