That night after dinner when the guests had left the house in Berkeley
Square, Mr. Strobridge asked his aunt if she would lend him Miss Bush
for Friday night to help him to entertain some bores. Beatrice would be
away, and he really felt he could not face them alone. Gwendoline or
Arabella would come, too. Katherine had dined at the Strobridges' house
in Brook Street once or twice before, for similar reasons, and the
request therefore did not seem unusual. But Gerard knew his Seraphim too
well not to be aware that when she heard that Mordryn had dined also she
might suspect some plot, and would then very possibly be mildly annoyed
with him, and really angry with Katherine. Every scrap of his diplomatic
gift would have to be employed over this. He was going to be at the
luncheon next day which the Duke had announced his intention of
attending. He must so manage the conversation that miniatures were
discussed, and then in aunt's hearing Mordryn could be asked to come and
inspect them as a mere afterthought. If this failed to allay all
suspicion of underlying intention in the affair, he would have boldly to
tell his aunt the truth, only taking the whole credit--or blame of the
idea--upon his own shoulders--No reflection must fall upon Katherine.
Her Ladyship announced casually that, yes, he might take the secretary
and welcome if he returned her not too late at night; she had to be up
early in the morning as she was starting on a holiday of a few days'
duration. The dutiful nephew thanked his aunt, and requested her to let
Miss Bush know that she would be wanted on Friday if she would be kind
enough to come.
But Lady Garribardine was preoccupied with a subject much nearer her
heart, and turned to it at once.
"I am dying to see Mordryn, G. I wish I had known he was going to speak
to-day and I would have gone to the House; he felt it his duty, I
suppose--this wretched Land Bill! How did he look? And did you get a
word with him? I shall see him to-morrow, of course."
Mr. Strobridge gave the message that he had been asked to give, and
vouchsafed the information that the Duke had appeared as usual and was
altogether charming as ever.
"It is to be hoped he will get some good out of life now that he is free
at last from those mad women."
Her Ladyship's face assumed a strange expression. She sat down in her
usual armchair with an air of fatigue.
"Your words strike home, G.--for you know I made his marriage--in those
far back ignorant days when no one thought of heredity or such things. I
literally married him off to Laura almost against his will, because he
was utterly devoted to me and I to him, and the situation was becoming
impossible, over ten years between our ages, his immense position and
mine--and Garribardine jealous--There was nothing else for it. Laura was
a sweet, foolish creature then, beautiful and of no account. I felt she
would never replace me in his affection, and in those days, nearly
thirty years ago, it would have been considered almost indecent to talk
of what future children might turn out--They were supposed to come from
the cabbage beds and to have nothing to do with their parents!"
"Of course, one had always heard he was devoted to you, Seraphim--He is
still."
"Dear Mordryn!--Laura gave him trouble on the honeymoon, and once made
him look ridiculous--He never pardoned that. By the time she was shut
up, I was fifty, G., and had mercifully a strong sense of humour, so
Mordryn and I had no lapses and have remained firm friends as you know."
"One has often wondered what his inner life could have been during all
those years of horror at home. He was a model of circumspection
outwardly, but the adoration of women must have affected him now and
then."
"Not greatly, I think--Naturally he has had some consolation, but when
one thinks of it, it is perfectly marvellous that no woman in England
has ever been able to flatter herself that she possessed an influence
over him--and, of course, in these last years he has not even seen any."
"I suppose he will marry again now, having no heir?"
There was a very interested note in Mr. Strobridge's voice.
"He must--And he must find a sane and strong woman--the family is on the
verge of being overbred. I must look out a suitable bunch for him to
select from."
"I should leave it to fate this time, Seraphim."
"If I do that some totally unsuitable creature with a clever mother will
grab him."
Mr. Strobridge laughed.
"Has not the man a will of his own?"
"No man has a will of his own while the vanity of his sex is still in
him. He is as defenceless as a baby, and at the mercy of any cunning
female. I could not bear to see Mordryn suffering a second time," and
Lady Garribardine sighed.
* * * * *
After luncheon next day, when the rest of the company had departed, the
Duke stayed on and accompanied his friend up to her own sitting-room
where they could talk undisturbed.
They understood each other completely. They spoke for a long time of his
travels and of his release at last from bondage and strain, and of how
he was going to open Valfreyne once more and see the world of his
fellows and take up the thread of his life.
"You must not keep a grain of mawkish sentiment, Mordryn," Her Ladyship
said at last. "You must banish all remembrance of Laura and Adeliza and
begin life afresh."
"At fifty-three?--It is a little late, I fear, for the game to have much
zest."
"Tut! tut! You have never found the youngest and most beautiful woman
recalcitrant, I'll wager. One had heard not so many years ago that a
certain fine creature in Paris almost died of love for you!"
The Duke smiled, and when he did this it was an illumination, his face
in repose was so stern.
"Not of love--of chagrin, because the ruby in the bangle she received
was reported to her--by her masseuse--to be of less pure pigeon's blood
than the duplicate--which I gave to the Spaniard. It is impossible to
gauge the love of a mistress; it is equally kindled by rubies and the
charms of a youthful Apollo."
"But you need not now confine your attentions to _ces dames_ any
longer, Mordryn; there are numbers of our world who would console you."
The Duke smiled again.
"None of them ever mattered to me very much, as you know, dear friend,
from the days when my whole soul was yours. Since then women have been
rare relaxations, ephemeral diversions leaving no mark."
"We are going to change all that!"
Then their talk drifted to other things, and before His Grace left he
had promised to spend Easter at Blissington.
While luncheon had yet been in full swing and a propitious moment had
come, Gerard had carried out his plan. The subject of miniatures was
introduced, and a heated argument ensued about the likelihood of the new
acquisitions being by Cosway, and then the suggestion that the Duke
should come in and dine the next night and decide the matter came out
quite naturally.
Lady Garribardine made no remark at the time, and indeed hardly thought
about it, but that night when she sat by her bedroom fire, she suddenly
remembered that her secretary would meet the Duke, and for a long time
she stared into the glowing embers in deep thought.
No, it was not possible that the girl had known that he would speak;
that was not her reason for wishing to go to the House of Lords; but she
had seen him there, and now she would meet him at dinner!
A number of expressions chased themselves over Her Ladyship's
countenance, while her eyes never left the one point in the coals. The
frown of cogitation deepened on her forehead and then cleared away. She
had come to a decision.
* * * * *
When Mordryn had retired with his hostess after luncheon, Gerard
Strobridge had sought Miss Bush in the secretary's room.
"The deed is done, Katherine," he announced, with an attempt at gaiety
while his heart was heavy within him. "The Duke is coming to dinner on
Friday night, and Gwendoline not Arabella, and a couple of bores from
the country, so all my duties and sacrifices are completed. Now are you
going to give me a reward?"
"It depends upon its nature."
"Yes, I know that. It is quite a reasonable one. It is to come down in
my motor with me this afternoon and see the spring borders at Hampton
Court?"
Katherine hesitated. She would love to go, but she had work to do before
to-morrow, and unless she sat up late at night it could not be
accomplished.
He came over and spoke earnestly.
"I feel that this will be the last time that we can be pupil and
teacher, Katherine. Fate is going to change for us both. I want to keep
a memory of you, dearest, when you were my friend alone, without the
shadow of any other interest between--Won't you try to give me this one
last great pleasure?"
Katherine was touched.
"Yes, I will," she agreed. "I cannot go up and ask Her Ladyship now, but
I believe she would let me go. I have no business with her until
to-morrow morning. Do you want me to come at once?"
"Yes, I will walk on round to the garage and get the motor, and you can
meet me at Stanhope Gate."
It turned out to be an afternoon which neither of them would ever
forget, and Katherine Bush had never been so near to emotion for her
friend as when at last they sat down upon a bench and looked away to
the broad green avenue between the giant trees.
Gerard Strobridge had exerted every power he possessed to please her. He
had enchanted her fancy, and had drawn out all that was finest in
herself. They had studied the flowers, and talked of their favourite
books; and Katherine was conscious that she herself was being brilliant,
and that now his flights were not beyond her, but that she could fully
hold her own.
"If I had been unwed, Katherine, would you have married me?" he asked
her at last. "Divine as to-day has been, think what it would have meant
with love between us--and further joys to come. Katherine, I would have
done my utmost to make you happy. Will you answer me this question? I
think it may be the last one I shall ever ask you."
She let her hands fall into her lap and she looked at him critically for
a while before she spoke. And her voice was reflective when she did
reply.
"I think if you had been free at that first Christmas, yes--I would have
married you, I would have let you take me away and teach me all that I
now know--And then I would have made you use all your gifts and rise,
rise to the top of your tree. I would never have rested until you had
reached the summit, and I with you."
He gave a little groan and covered his face with his hands.
"I forged all the barriers to joy by weakness long ago, Katherine. I
drifted idly down life's stream, and now am caught in the rushes and
cannot get free. The thought is bitter sweet, dear love--this picture of
what might have been. And I would have taught you to love me at last.
Ah! God! the pain! But now I do not want to finish this day with
sorrowful repinings. I will keep this memory of your words and go my
way, and when you come into your kingdom remember me, and let us renew
our friendship on calmer shores."
He took her hand, and pulling her glove off backwards kissed each white
finger, and then his eyes grew misty and he said farewell. And in
Katherine's heart there was a strange sadness, and they hardly spoke at
all as they sped homewards.