THE CYNOSURE OF ALL EYES
Lord Dunforth, without acquainting his wife of the change of his
feelings, called the next day, as early as the rules of etiquette would
allow, at the Langham, and desired to be shown to Mr. Dredmond’s
apartments.
He was informed, much to his disappointment, that Mr. Dredmond and his
wife had left town for a few days.
Like all truly noble natures, when he found he was in the wrong he was
willing to acknowledge it, and anxious to atone as far as lay in his
power; but nothing remained now but to wait with patience until the
return of the young couple.
Adrian and his wife had decided, upon talking the matter over, to wait
until the return of the Coolidges from Paris before making their trip to
West Malling, meantime they would run down to Winchester to pay poor
Lady Douglas a visit and take a look at Winship Towers.
Upon their return to London they found numerous cards and invitations
from families in high life awaiting them, requesting the pleasure of Mr.
Dredmond and lady’s presence, etc., etc. One for the evening called them
to Manchester House, the residence of the Marquis of Hertford.
“The world is really waking up to the fact that you are actually
married, Adrian,” Brownie said, mischievously, as she turned over the
dainty missives, but her cheeks were glowing with indignation.
“Yes,” her husband replied, laughingly, “and I wish to show them that I
have chosen a wife worth marrying! I want you to look especially elegant
to-night. Do you need anything to embellish your toilet?”
Brownie laughed merrily at this question, and taking him by the arm, led
him to her dressing-room, where, throwing open the door of one of the
enormous wardrobes, she commanded him to look and choose for himself
what he would have her wear.
“My darling,” exclaimed Adrian, as she swept into the drawing-room a
little later, “how beautiful you are, and how proud I am of you!” and he
held out his arms as if about to clasp her to him; but drawing suddenly
back, he added: “But no; I will not crush a single bud, nor disarrange
one of those perfect folds.”
“Don’t be foolish, dear,” Brownie replied, nestling close to him, and
clasping her own arms around his neck; “the dress is nothing to me
except as it pleases you, and makes me look more lovable in your eyes;
besides, I do not wish to look too new.”
Adrian’s marriage—or rather the news of it—had spread like wildfire
among the _élite_ of London, and many were the comments and sneers
poured upon the unknown American behind her back for having been so
successful in “taking him in.”
Comparatively little was really known of her, or their marriage,
excepting that it had been very sudden and quiet, and without the
sanctioning presence of Lord and Lady Dunforth.
Contrary to Brownie’s surmise, the report of her sudden accession to
wealth and position had not yet become very generally known, and Mrs.
Grundy was exceedingly curious to behold this _rara avis_ which had
created such an unexpected commotion in polite circles.
When at length “Mr. Dredmond and lady” were announced at Manchester
House, there was a sudden hush, a stretching of necks—yes, even in that
noble crowd, for human nature is the same the world over—and all eyes
were turned toward the door as they entered.
Brownie knew that she was the cynosure of all eyes, and although her
heart beat rather more quickly than usual, not a muscle of her pure,
patrician face quivered as they threaded their way through the crowd.
It was a moment of triumph to her idolizing husband when she was
presented to the Marquis and Marchioness of Hertford, and greeted them
with graceful yet perfect self-possession, while the manner of her
salutation was remarked by hundreds, and they were dumb with surprise
and admiration at both her exceeding beauty and grace.
Could this be a governess—a girl of questionable character and birth—a
plebeian American?
Lord and Lady Dunforth were both present, and had been gratified
witnesses of the presentation, and both were as proud of Adrian and his
peerless bride as if they had been first and foremost in sanctioning the
marriage, instead of so bitterly opposing it.
Lord Dunforth inwardly cursed himself anew at having been so precipitate
in his denunciation of his grandson and his “plebeian bride,” if he had
only waited until he had seen her he never would have been so rash; and
he began to turn over in his mind the best way to get out of a bad fix.
He knew Adrian would wish to present his wife to him, and he dreaded to
meet her scorn; the sight of her in her proud beauty carried him vividly
back to the time when he had so joyfully presented her aunt as his
betrothed, and he turned away with almost a groan, as he remembered how
that joy had been suddenly turned into mourning.
Adrian’s fond heart leaped with exultation at the homage which was being
paid his darling, and the surprise which he saw expressed in every eye
contributed not a little to his amusement.
But a more signal and unexpected triumph awaited them.
They were busy receiving and responding to congratulations, when all at
once a familiar voice fell upon Brownie’s ears, giving her a violent
inward start.
She pressed Adrian’s arm without giving any other sign, and he, glancing
up, saw Lady Randal, Mrs. Coolidge, Sir Charles and Isabel approaching
them.
Another moment the crowd separated, and they stood face to face.
Sir Charles and his party were evidently taken entirely by surprise, for
Mrs. Coolidge, as her eyes fell upon the despised governess, became
white as the fan of costly feathers that she held in her hand.
Isabel grew crimson with anger and mortification, especially as she had
on at that moment the young girl’s diamonds, and she looked as if she
longed for the earth to open and devour her.
Sir Charles, however, hastened forward, with an expression of real
pleasure upon his face, and grasping Adrian warmly by the hand, offered
his congratulations, and begged to be presented to his bride.
Brownie received him gracefully and cordially, but vouchsafed to Isabel
only a haughty lifting of her beautifully arched brows. She bowed
distantly to Lady Randal, and, ignoring entirely the presence of Mrs.
Coolidge, she turned to speak to some one at her side.
Sir Charles flushed angrily at this marked slight of his betrothed and
her mother, and, with a haughty bow, passed on.
“I am sorry on his account, darling; but it could not be helped, and you
treated them just as you ought,” Adrian whispered. “Now I perceive that
a still greater trial awaits you, but I know you are fully equal to it.”
They both knew that many curious eyes were fastened upon them, to see
how these greetings would be exchanged.
Many and various had been the reports circulated regarding his
lordship’s sentiments concerning his grandson’s marriage; but if people
were expecting any demonstration, they were deeply disappointed.
Lord Dunforth approached and shook his boy heartily by the hand, and
then turned, with a very pale but benignant face, to the young bride.
She could not take his hand, but swept him a charming courtesy, with
every appearance of marked respect; then, with very bright eyes, and her
slender form very erect, she turned to greet her ladyship, and was soon
chatting upon the most friendly terms with her.
“By Jove!” muttered Lord Dunforth to himself, “she understands herself
perfectly. The most critical could find no fault with her greeting; and
yet to me it is very evident I shall be obliged to hoist a flag of truce
before we can come to any terms of peace. I’m glad of it,” he added, his
eyes resting admiringly upon the bright face: “it just suits me. My own
Meta was not more regal.”
Turning to Adrian, he said, with a suspicious tremble in his voice:
“I heartily congratulate you, my boy. Shall there be peace between us?”
“Certainly, my dear sir, if——”
“I understand you,” he interrupted, “and I find no flaw in her. Indeed,
Adrian, I am as proud of your triumph to-night as you can possibly be.”
“Thank you. If you had read the letter I wrote you all unpleasantness
might have been avoided, for in it I explained that she is a niece of
your—of a Miss Douglas whom you used to know,” Adrian returned.
“I know all about it, my boy,” his lordship said, in a husky voice. “I
discovered all the other day when I met your wife at Capel & Armand’s.”
“Yes, she told me you were there.”
“What! did she recognize me?” and the color flew to his face, as he
recalled Brownie’s entire self-possession, and how she had ignored his
presence.
“Oh, yes; you know she was at Castle Dunforth several weeks since, and
it is not likely she would forget you so soon, especially as she already
knew so much about you.”
“True,” he muttered, with a troubled look, adding: “I shall call upon
you immediately, Adrian, and I hope to persuade you to return to us—we
are very lonely.”
“Thank you; but we will talk further of that another time. We shall be
delighted to see you at the Langham, and I have much more to tell you
regarding the circumstances of the past three or four weeks,” Adrian
returned, gravely.
Meanwhile Isabel and her mother were in anything but a comfortable frame
of mind.
They had been thunderstruck upon beholding Brownie, in all her glory,
leaning upon Adrian’s arm.
There was no enjoyment for them after that uncomfortable encounter, and,
pleading fatigue, they persuaded Sir Charles to withdraw almost
immediately, while they racked their brains trying to solve the riddle
of the young girl’s escape from that secret chamber.
They had returned from Paris rather earlier than they had anticipated,
their arrangements regarding the trousseau having been more easily
effected than they had expected, so, as Sir Charles was anxious to be
back at Vallingham Hall to superintend some alterations which he desired
completed before his marriage, they had hastened home.
On reaching London they had found cards awaiting them for the ball at
Manchester House, and remained to attend the festivities.
They had seen hardly any one since their arrival, consequently knew
nothing of the nine days’ wonder which was agitating the minds of the
Londoners.
Lady Randall professed to be horrified at the course which Adrian had
taken, and hoped his grandfather would disown him forever for the
disgrace he had brought upon the family. She believed that he knew all
the time where Miss Douglas was that evening when he had so boldly
announced his betrothal, and had only told them of the engagement to
soften the scandal of the act he was even then contemplating. Of course,
not being cognizant of the part the Coolidges had played in the little
drama, this was the only construction she would be likely to put upon
the matter.
Sir Charles was highly indignant at the treatment which his party had
received, while at the same time he was secretly uneasy about the whole
affair.
He could not understand it, and the more he pondered upon it the more
puzzled he grew, for he felt that there must be something underneath it
all which ought to be accounted for and thoroughly sifted.
Yet after Mrs. Dredmond’s reception of his betrothed, which to him
appeared almost like a public insult, he was too proud and too deeply
wounded to seek any explanation from Adrian, between whom and himself
until now the firmest friendship had existed.