THE SECRETARY'S INTENTIONS
Roberts' Hall preserved the good old English custom concerning
breakfast--which means that a rambling meal extended from eight to
eleven in the morning--at which the butler served you with tea, or
coffee and rolls, and you served yourself to the rest, from the cold
cuts on the sideboard to the hot viands in copper vessels warmed by
alcohol lamps. The cold cuts you had always with you, also the orange
marmalade; as for the eggs and bacon, devilled kidneys, etc., their
state was dependent on the taste of the guests who had preceded you, and
your own ability as an early riser. You came down when you pleased, and
ate your meal in solitary state or in any company that might happen to
be present, which, if it proved to be congenial, made a very jolly,
informal repast, and if it didn't,--well, that was fate, and you had to
submit to it. Fate may be kind or it may not, sometimes it sets out to
play ponderous practical jokes, which may include something nearly akin
to a grim reality in the future for the persons involved.
This was probably the reason why Stanley, on his advent into the
breakfast-room, found it tenanted by only one person, and that one,
Lady Isabelle.
At the sight of her, the Secretary felt decidedly sheepish, because Miss
Fitzgerald's tears and some subsequent hours of sleepless meditation
thereon had convinced him that he was morally, if not actually, capable
of all the weakness for which her Ladyship had upbraided him. He told
himself that he owed a duty to the fair Belle, that he must save her
from herself at all costs, even if it involved the sacrifice of his own
future, that he had misjudged her cruelly, and that he was very, very
sorry for her, and that, because he was conscience-stricken, he was
certainly in love. Indeed he kept assuring himself with feverish
insistence, that this must be the real article.
To Lady Isabelle, on the contrary, Stanley's deficiencies were almost
lost sight of, in view of the disturbing suspicion that that young
gentleman might be led to suppose that her well-meant interference in
his affairs had proceeded from an undue regard for himself. A suspicion
but a few hours old, and dating from an interview with the Marchioness,
who, for some unknown reason, had suddenly assumed a totally different
attitude towards the Secretary, and even tried to entrap her daughter
into admitting that his attentions might mean something. This made Lady
Isabelle most anxious to impress him with the fact that their friendship
was purely platonic. Accordingly, to his intense surprise, she was
exceedingly gracious, and chatted away all through breakfast in a
charmingly easy, if somewhat feverish, manner, even condescending so
far as to say something pleasant about Miss Fitzgerald. Under this
treatment Stanley simply glowed, and opened out as much as he dared in
the presence of the butler and two expressionless footmen, upon that
lady's charms. He was a very young diplomat, as the reader will have
noticed ere this, or he would not have continued to praise one lady to
another; least of all at breakfast time, an hour when the temper of
mortals is by no means certain. But in the pleasure of his subject he
did not notice the scorn that was suggested by the curl of his
vis-a-vis' lip.
"I do wish," he said in conclusion, "that you'd take a stroll with me
this afternoon; the deer park is quite worth seeing, I understand, and
besides there are lots of things I want to talk to you about."
It was during this proposition that Lieutenant Kingsland, preceded by
the Dowager, entered the breakfast-room.
"Oh, I say," blurted out that officer, "I think we've got an appointment
after lunch, haven't we?"
"I think not, Lieutenant Kingsland," replied Lady Isabelle, foreseeing
the crisis, and realising the necessity of immediate action. Then
turning to Stanley, she added:--
"Thanks, I should enjoy a good walk hugely, and I love deer. It was very
kind of you to suggest it. What time shall we start?"
"Say three o'clock," said the Secretary, immensely rejoiced at his
restoration to favour.
"Three, let it be then, if mamma approves."
It was only too evident that mamma did approve; she nodded and smiled,
and said that exercise was a splendid thing for young people; till
Stanley became frightened at her excessive geniality, and Kingsland
looked black as a thunder-cloud.
The Lieutenant was not, however, so easily baffled, and jumped to the
conclusion that half of Lady Isabelle was better than no Lady Isabelle
at all.
"Three's not company, I know," he said, laughing with attempted gaiety,
"but I'm no end fond of deer myself."
"I was about to ask you, Lieutenant Kingsland," interrupted the Dowager,
coming promptly to the rescue, "to execute a few commissions for me this
afternoon, at Tunbridge Wells. I'm sure our hostess will put a dog-cart
at your service, and it's not above fifteen miles."
"Charmed, I'm sure," replied the Lieutenant--but he did not look it.
However, he had his reward, for Lady Isabelle had just finished her
breakfast, and Kingsland declared he had already had his, which was not
true, so they disappeared together and left the Dowager to enjoy her
repast in the company of the Secretary, to whom she was so extremely
affable, that, had it not been for his instructions, he would have had
serious thoughts of leaving for London, before he was appropriated body
and soul.
* * * * *
"What have you been telling my mother about Mr. Stanley?" asked Lady
Isabelle of the Lieutenant, in the seclusion of the library. "I know you
had a long conference with her last night--and something must have
happened."
"I'm sure I don't know, unless it was that he's a millionaire, and made
his money, or had it made for him, in some beastly commercial
way--sugar, I think."
Lady Isabelle gave him one look, and remarked with a depth of scorn
which even the unfortunate Secretary had not evoked:--
"Oh, you idiot!"
Kingsland was immersed in literature the entire morning in company with
Lady Isabelle, who doubtless found the Lieutenant's companionship a
great comfort, under the circumstances, since now that she knew the
reason of her mother's attitude towards the Secretary, she was as
anxious to avoid the walk with him, as she had previously been willing
to take it.
Kingsland, however, bore up bravely, for his trip to the Wells gave him
an opportunity to settle several little matters of business, which the
Dowager, had she known of them, would hardly have approved. Moreover,
Belle saw him off, saying as he mounted the dog-cart:--
"Don't be upset by Lady Isabelle's defection this afternoon, Jack; the
most trustworthy little mare will sometimes jib, just before taking a
desperate leap."
* * * * *
When two people start out on a long walk together, each with the firm
intention of doing his duty by the other, the result is apt to be far
from pleasant; but in this case both had so much to talk about that for
the first hour of their walk they said nothing, and their arrival at the
deer-park was a distinct relief, since it furnished a new and harmless
subject for discussion. And, indeed, the pretty animals warranted more
than a passing word. They were seen in numbers, peeping out of a fringe
of woodland across the width of an uncultivated field, and they were in
that delightful state of semi-tameness, when a longing for the bits of
bread, with which Stanley and Lady Isabelle were well supplied, battled
equally with an impulse, born of natural training, to flee the proximity
of the human race.
But there was not much going in the line of food, and so gradually, step
by step, the most daring of the herd ventured into the open, and slowly
approached the visitors, who were wise enough to throw tempting bits
about twelve feet away from them. Watchful to note the slightest
movement of a muscle, the bread was at length secured, and the herd
scampered away in a panic of fear, only to return for more, thrown
nearer the feet of their friends. So it was at last, with advances of
six feet and retreats of as many yards, at the crackling of a bush or a
change in the wind, that the most adventurous consented, standing as far
aloof as possible, and stretching their necks to the last degree of
tension, to take the bread from the visitors' hands.
But finally even the charms of the deer were exhausted, and as they
turned about and began slowly to stroll homeward across the park, Lady
Isabelle abruptly broached the subject which both of them had nearest at
heart.
"I'm afraid," she began, "that I'm very prone to order the lives of my
friends, from my own point of view."
"My life, for instance?" he asked.
"Mr. Stanley," she said, "I shan't be really happy till I have
apologised for the way I spoke at Lady Rainsford's tea. I'd no right to
do so, and I'm sure my judgment was hasty and ill-advised. I've been
trusting to my eyes and ears rather than to the reports of other people,
and I'm sure I've been mistaken. Do you know how Miss Fitzgerald spent
part of yesterday?"
"I have not seen her to speak with to-day."
"Then I'll tell you. She was helping poor old Mr. Lambert trim the
church for to-morrow. I think it was very nice of her."
"I'm afraid your commendation has come a trifle late. The fact is, I
took it upon myself to counsel the young lady in question against a
friend of hers--a Colonel Darcy."
"Not Colonel Robert Darcy?"
"The same."
"Do you know him?" she asked.
"No, but I know how he treats his wife, and his own character is none
too good."
"It's curious," she said, a trifle sadly, "but I'm in just your position
in regard to a dear friend of mine, and concerning the same man."
"Concerning Colonel Darcy?"
"Yes."
"And his intimacy with Lieutenant Kingsland?"
"How did you know?"
"'He that hath eyes to see----'" quoted the Secretary.
"They never even knew each other till a short time ago, but in the last
few weeks they've been constantly together. I can't understand it."
Mr. Stanley thought he could, but forbore to say so.
"I don't know why I distrust Colonel Darcy, but I do," she continued,
"and his sudden intimacy with Jack--Lieutenant Kingsland--makes me
apprehensive. Do you think----"
"I think your friend is of too pliable a nature to be in the hands of so
unscrupulous a rascal."
She sighed, and then feeling perhaps that she had said too much,
hastened to revert to their original subject, saying:
"Don't tell me there's a misunderstanding between you and Miss
Fitzgerald. I'm so sorry. I wouldn't for the world--that is, I almost
feel as if I'd been to blame."
"You're not the only one of my friends who has misjudged her-- I've done
so myself--utterly."
"But surely this little difference will not be lasting--I hoped----"
"Would you wish me to marry Miss Fitzgerald, Lady Isabelle?"
"Well, perhaps I won't say that--but I should certainly not wish
anything I might have said to prevent you from so doing. Of course, my
only reason for interfering was prompted by a wish for your happiness."
"Do you think you understand what that comprises?"
"That's just the point I wanted to make clear," she said hastily,
determined that he must understand, even at the expense of a slight
indiscretion on her part, which she felt would be far preferable to the
slightest misunderstanding of their relative positions, in view of any
future action of her mother's.
"You see," she continued, "to put it frankly, what could I possibly know
of the requirements which, in a woman, would go to make you happy. Of
course, you and I are friends, great friends; but just that state of
affairs, as far as we're concerned, makes any judgment of mine useless
concerning the kind of woman you could love."
Stanley, who could scarcely help drawing his own inferences, was piqued
that she should have felt it necessary to batter a self-evident fact
into his brain in such a bald manner.
"I wish," he said, "that her Ladyship, your mother, was possessed of the
same lucid views on kindred subjects."
"Poor mamma," murmured his companion, "she's a trifle conventional; but,
of course, if you're not in sympathy with her, you can easily avoid
her."
There, the cat was out of the bag at last, and both felt easier in
consequence. Stanley threw himself into the breach at once, and took the
burden of the conversation.
"I'm sure," he said, "I don't believe that half of the people in the
world can tell for the life of them why they fall in love with a certain
person and not with another. As we're talking confidentially, I don't
mind telling you that I've decided that I'm in love with Miss
Fitzgerald, and that the best thing I can do is to tell her so as soon
as possible, though I'm afraid there is little chance of her having me."
"I can honestly say," rejoined his companion, "that, if that is how the
case stands, I do hope you'll be successful."
Having arrived at this amicable and highly satisfactory conclusion, they
realised that in the earnestness of their discussion they had not
noticed the lapse of time.
"Dear me, it must be getting late. I trust we're not far from the Hall,"
said Lady Isabelle.
"To tell you the truth, I don't know just where we are," he replied.
They were standing in a thick plantation at the time, through which
meandered the little path they were following.
"There's rising ground ahead, however," he continued, "and, I think, a
clearing."
This proved to be the case, and when they had gained the little knoll
they saw, nearly in front of them, across a slight valley, bordered on
either side by wide stretches of fields and pasture-land, the Hall.
"It doesn't look to be half a mile distant, but I doubt the wisdom of
trying a short cut," he said, "We'd much better keep to our path."
Their prudence had its own reward, for they had not been walking five
minutes before they encountered a peasant, who, with more good nature
than brevity, directed their steps in a way that was too plainly not a
short cut. However, there was nothing for it now but to push on, and
though they walked rapidly, it was a long time before they reached the
Hall.
Unkind fate prompted them on their arrival to venture into the
drawing-room in search of a belated cup of tea, and, to their dismay,
they found the apartment, which should have been deserted at this hour,
tenanted solely by the Dowager, who had evidently been awaiting their
return.
She was much too formally polite to make them feel at their ease, and
with a word dismissed her daughter, on the plea of removing her wraps,
thus leaving the Secretary to his fate.
Once they were alone, her Ladyship surveyed the young man deliberately
through her lorgnettes, and when she had made him sufficiently nervous,
remarked in a chilling tone that she trusted her daughter had caught no
cold from walking so late in the park.
The Secretary acquiesced, and then the Marchioness opened the attack in
earnest.
"We--my daughter--has had the pleasure of seeing a great deal of you
lately, Mr. Stanley."
"Er, yes," he replied, scenting danger. "Of course it's been a great
pleasure to me."
"Still," she continued, "it is not usual for a young lady, unchaperoned,
to walk in the park with a gentleman at this hour; a gentleman who is,
shall we say, a mere acquaintance."
"The matter was one of necessity," he replied shortly. "We lost our
way."
"Mrs. Roberts has driven me over her grounds repeatedly, and it appears
to me to be quite impossible for anyone to really lose his way."
"Deference to your Ladyship's opinion prevents me from saying more."
"It is certainly not pleasant," resumed the Dowager, ignoring his last
remark, "to continue this conversation, and, were my late husband
living, I should naturally have left the matter to him; as it is, my
duty as a mother and my desire for dear Isabelle's welfare bids me----"
"Really, your Ladyship, am I to understand you to imply----"
"I can only say that I have heard your name associated with my
daughter's in a manner--that was not--quite as I could wish. Dear Lady
Wintern, a woman most interested in the good of her friends, spoke to me
herself, and of course you, as a man of honour and a gentleman----"
"As a man of honour and a gentleman, I deeply regret that anything in
my conduct should have led to a misconception in regard to my relations
with Lady Isabelle, and in the future----"
"In the future, Mr. Stanley, you will of course see little or nothing of
my daughter--unless----"
She paused, and for a moment neither spoke. Then the Secretary, who,
whatever else may be said of him, was not a coward, seeing what was
impending, determined to face the situation and have it over as soon as
possible.
"Am I to understand," he inquired, "that you're asking me my
intentions?"
Her Ladyship raised her eyebrows. If the French shoulder is expressive,
the English eye-brow, feminine, speaks volumes.
"You do not make the situation easy for me," she replied. "Of course I
speak only for myself. What my daughter may feel----"
"You don't suppose," he exclaimed, "that Lady Isabelle really
thinks----"
"I _know_, Mr. Stanley, that my daughter thinks nothing and does nothing
that would not be proper in a young lady of her position."
"Then I've only to apologise," he said, rising, "for what you force me
to believe is my fault, however unintentional." And, bowing gravely to
her, he quietly left the room.