A PAINFUL ENCOUNTER
More work. A week of it, ceaseless and unremitting. The police seemed
to have abandoned their watch over my cottage, and I heard a whisper
that a statement by the Duke had at any rate partially cleared me from
suspicion. Ray had declined to leave England. I knew quite well that
it was on my account. He, with the others, was now in London.
Then came my own summons thither. I was told to report myself
immediately on arrival at Rowchester House, and to my surprise was
informed by the servant who answered my inquiries that a room was
reserved for me there. I had no sooner reached it than Lady Angela's
own maid arrived with a message. Her ladyship would be glad if I could
spare her a few moments in the drawing-room as soon as possible.
Lady Angela was standing upon the hearthrug. I stepped a little way
across the threshold and stopped short. She held out her hand to me
with a quiet laugh.
"Have you forgotten me?" she asked, "or am I so alarming?"
I set my teeth and moved towards her.
"You took my breath away," I said, with an ease which I was very far
from feeling. "Remember that I have come from Braster."
I do not know what she wore. Her gown seemed to me to be of some soft
crepe or silk, and the colour of it was a smoky misty blue. There were
pearls around her neck, and her hair, arranged with exquisite
simplicity, seemed to be drawn back from her face and arranged low down
on the back of her neck. She had still the fresh delightful colour
which had been in her cheeks when she left Braster, and the smile with
which she welcomed me was as delightful as ever.
"This is a charming arrangement," she declared. "You know that you are
such an important person, and have to be watched so closely, that you
are to stay here. I went up myself with the housekeeper to see to your
rooms. I do hope that you will be comfortable."
"Comfortable is not the word," I answered. "I have never been used to
such luxury."
She laughed.
"Dear me!" she said. "I have so much to tell you, and the carriage is
waiting already. Thank goodness we dine alone to-morrow night. But
there is one thing which I must tell you at once. Sir Michael Trogoldy
is in town, you know. He took me in to dinner at Amberley House last
night, and we talked about you."
"I had a letter from Sir Michael a few days ago," I answered. "He made
a proposition to me--and asked me to call and see him."
Something in my voice, I suppose, betrayed my feelings. She laid her
hand upon my arm.
"Mr. Ducaine," she said, "I do hope that you mean to be reasonable.
Sir Michael is a dear old man."
"He is my mother's brother," I answered, "and he left me to starve."
"He had not the least idea," she declared, "that you were not reasonably
well off. He is most interested in hearing about you, and he was
delighted to have you accept the allowance he offered you. You will go
and see him?"
"Yes, I shall go," I promised. "I scarcely see the use of it, but I
will go."
"You must not be foolish," she said softly. "Sir Michael is very rich>
and you are his only near relative. Besides, you have had such a lonely
time, and it is quite time that you saw a little of the other side of
life. Sir Michael is a particular friend of mine, and I promised him
that I would talk to you about this. I am most anxious to hear that you
get on well together. You can be amiable if you like, you know, and you
can be very much the other thing."
"I will try," I assured her, "not to be the other thing." She smiled.
"And tell me all about Braster."
"There is not much to tell," I answered. "I have been hard at work all
the time, and I have scarcely seen a soul."
"The woman--Mrs. Smith-Lessing?"
"She left Braster before you. I have not seen her since the evening of
the day I saw her last."
She appeared relieved.
"May I ask you a question?" I asked. She nodded. "About Colonel Ray.
Has the Duke forgiven him?"
"On the contrary, he is more bitter than ever," Lady Angela answered.
"I have seen him once or twice only. He does not come here." "I saw in
the paper," I said, "that your engage--"
"It is not true," she interrupted. "Everything is as it was. But it is
shockingly indefinite, of course. I scarcely know whether I am to
consider myself an engaged person or not. Colonel Ray offered to
release me, but we agreed to wait for a little time."
"Lady Angela!"
She looked at me with a soft flush upon her cheeks. But my words were
never spoken. The Duke entered the room, brilliant in sash and orders.
"Good evening, Ducaine," he said, looking at me with slightly lifted
eyebrows.
"Good evening, your Grace," I answered in some embarrassment.
"I sent for Mr. Ducaine," Lady Angela remarked, stooping that her maid,
who had followed the Duke, might arrange her cloak. "I wanted to hear
all about Braster, and I had a message for him from Sir Michael
Trogoldy."
The Duke made no remark.
"I shall require you, Ducaine, at ten o'clock to-morrow morning in my
study," he said. "Afterwards we go over to the War Office. You have
brought all the papers with you?--If you are quite ready, Angela."
The Duke, without saying a word, had managed to make me feel that he
considered my presence in the drawing-room with Lady Angela superfluous,
but her smile and farewell were quite sufficient recompense for me.
Still, I knew that this living together under the same roof was to be no
unmixed blessing for me. I shut myself in the dainty little
sitting-room which I was told was mine, and turned the key in the door.
I felt the need of solitude.
* * * * *
Later in the evening I became mundane again. I remembered that I had
sent dinner away, and though I had only to ring the bell and order
something, I felt the need of fresh air. So I took up my hat and stick
and left the house.
After a while I found my way into Piccadilly. I knew very little of
London, but after my solitary evening walks at Braster along the
sandhills and across the marshes, the contrast was in itself suggestive
and almost exciting. I watched the people, the stream of carriages. I
listened to the low ceaseless hum of this wonderful life, and I found it
fascinating. The glow in the sky was marvellous to me--the faces of the
passers-by, the laughter and the whining, the tears and the cursing, the
pleasure-seekers and the pleasure-satiated, how they all told their
story as they swept by in one unceasing stream! For a while I forgot
even my appetite. The sight of a restaurant, however, at last reminded
me that I was desperately hungry.
I knew it by name--a huge cosmopolitan place of the lower middle class,
and entering I found a quiet seat, where my country clothes were not
conspicuous. There were few people about me, and those few
uninteresting, so I kept my attention divided between my dinner and the
evening paper. But just as I was drawing towards the close of my meal,
something happened to change all that.
A woman, followed by a man, passed my table, and the two seated
themselves diagonally opposite to me. Something in the woman's light
footsteps, her free movements, and the graceful carriage of her head,
struck me instantly as being familiar. She was dressed very plainly,
and she was closely veiled. Their entrance, too, had been unobtrusive,
almost furtive. But when she raised her veil and took the
_carte-du-jour_ in her hand, I knew her at once. It was Mrs.
Smith-Lessing.
She had not seen me, and my first impulse was to pay my bill and step
quietly out. Then by chance I glanced at her companion, and my heart
stood still. He was a tall man, over six feet, but he stooped badly,
and his walk had been almost the walk of an invalid. He had the
appearance of a man who had once been stout and well built, but who was
now barely recovered from a long illness. The flesh hung in little bags
underneath his bloodshot eyes, his mouth twitched continually, and the
hand which rested on the table trembled. He wore a scanty grey
moustache, which failed to hide a weak thin mouth, and a very obvious
wig concealed his baldness. His clothes had seen plenty of service and
his linen was doubtful. He had evidently ordered some brandy
immediately on his entrance, and his eyes met mine just as he was in the
act of raising the glass to his lips. I am convinced that he had no
idea then who I was, but the earnestness of my gaze seemed to disturb
him. He set down his glass with shaking fingers, and directed his
companion's attention towards me.
They talked together earnestly for several moments. I fancied that she
was reproving him for showing alarm at my notice. Very soon, however,
she herself, after giving an order to a waiter, turned slightly round in
her chair, and glanced with well-affected carelessness across at me. I
saw her start and look apprehensively at her companion. He took the
alarm at once, and I heard his eager question.
"Who is it? Who is it, Maud?"
She made him some reassuring answer, and, rising to her feet, came over
to my table. I rose to greet her, and she slipped quietly into the
chair opposite to me.
"What are you doing here?" she asked quickly.
"I have just arrived from Braster," I answered. "I came here by
accident to get something to eat. Is that--"
I could not go on, but she finished the sentence for me.
"Yes!"
I set my teeth hard and looked steadily down at the tablecloth. I felt
rather than saw that her regard was compassionate.
"I am sorry," she murmured. "I would not have brought him here if I had
known. You two are better apart. Talk to me as naturally as you can.
He has no idea who you are."
"Has he been ill?" I asked.
"Very. I found him in a hospital. He has been ill, and the rest you
can guess."
Even while we were talking I saw him toss off another glass of brandy
which the waiter had brought him. And all the time his eyes never left
my face.
"I thought," I said, "that he had money."
"It has all gone," she answered, "and--well, things are not very
flourishing with him. Our mission over here has been unsuccessful, and
they have stopped sending us money from Paris. How queer that I should
be telling you this!" she added, with a hard little laugh, "you, of all
people in the world. Guy, take my advice. Get up and go. If he
guesses who you are he will come and speak to you--and you are better
apart."
It was too late. With fascinated eyes I watched him leave his place and
come towards us. I was absolutely powerless to move. Mrs.
Smith-Lessing had left the outside chair vacant. He sank into it and
leaned across the table towards me.
"It is Guy," he said in a shaking voice. "I am sure that it is Guy.
She has told you who I am. Eh?"
"Yes," I answered. "I know who you are."
He extended a shaking hand across the table. I could not take it.
"Well, well," he said nervously, "perhaps you are right. But I came to
England to see you. Yes, Guy, that is the truth! I have been a bad
father, but I may be able to make amends. I think I know a way.--
Waiter, a glass of brandy."
"I am afraid," I said, rising to my feet, "that you must excuse me.--If
you have anything to say to me, sir, we can meet another time."
He almost dragged me down.
"Stop, stop!" he said irritably. "You do not seem to understand. I had
an important matter of business to discuss with you. I may make your
fortune yet, my boy! I have powerful friends abroad, very powerful."
I looked at him steadily.
"Well?"
She laid her hand upon his arm, and whispered in his ear. He only shook
his head angrily.
"Nonsense, Maud!" he exclaimed. "You do not understand. This is my son
Guy. Of course we must talk together. It is a wonderful meeting--yes,
a wonderful meeting."
"Well?" I repeated.
"I am glad to hear," he continued, "that you are holding such an
important position. Clerk to the Military Defence Board, eh? Quite an
important position, of course; but it might be made--yes, with care, it
might be made," he added, watching me with nervous alertness, "a very
lucrative one."
"I am quite satisfied with my salary," I remarked calmly.
"Pooh! my dear boy, that is nonsense," he continued. "You do not
understand me. It is an open secret. Maud, are we overheard here, do
you think? Is it safe to discuss an important matter with Guy here?"
I rose to my feet and took up my hat. Again she whispered in his ear,
and this time he seemed to assent.
"Quite right! Quite right!" he said, nodding his head. "Guy, my boy,
you shall come and see us. No. 29, Bloomsbury Street--poor rooms, but
our remittances have gone astray, and I have been ill. To-morrow, eh?
or the next day? We shall expect you, Guy. We do not go out except in
the evenings. You will not fail, Guy?"
I looked down into his flushed face. His lips were shaking, and his
eyes were fixed anxiously upon mine. I was miserably ashamed and
unhappy.
"I do not think that I shall care to hear what you have to say," I
answered. "But I will come to see you."
I left them there. As I went out she was gently countermanding his
order for more brandy.