AT CROSS PURPOSES
Isla did not see her employer till ten o'clock next morning, by which
time she had breakfasted _tete-a-tete_ with Mr. Bodley-Chard. When she
was asked to go to Mrs. Chard's room the expression of her face
indicated that she had not had a pleasant morning.
Mrs. Chard was not yet out of her bedroom, which communicated with the
boudoir by folding-doors. She was lying down, but her pale face
brightened at sight of Isla.
"Good morning, dear. I wanted to see you ever so long ago, but Edgar
said you had not time to come."
"Oh," said Isla stiffly, "I did not know you wanted me, or I should have
been here sooner. I hope you slept well and feel better this morning?"
"I sleep too much, I think," she said with a weary yawn. "I was asleep
by half-past nine last night, and I'm not long awake. Yes--I've had
breakfast, all I ever do take. Sit down, and tell me what you have been
about. Did you have a comfortable night, and did they get you all you
wanted?"
"Everything. My wants are simple, and I can help myself. The housemaid
is very kind and attentive."
"And you gave Edgar his breakfast? I hope you enjoyed that. Isn't he
charming? And I must tell you a great secret. He is charmed with you.
I am so glad, because I've had such trouble with my lady-housekeepers.
Either they could not get on with my husband, or they wanted to be with
him too much. Women are so tiresome and so catty to one another."
Isla repressed an inordinate desire to laugh.
"Tell me what you talked about, won't you?" Mrs. Chard continued. "It's
being kept in the dark in my own house that I hate so much. It isn't
fair--do you think it is? For, after all, though I am not strong I do
take an interest in things."
"I didn't say much. Mr. Chard talked a good deal--principally about
you."
"Oh, indeed; and what did he say? Told you all sorts of naughty things,
I suppose?"
The spectacle of this elderly woman waxing coquettish on the subject of
her husband filled Isla with a curious mixture of pity and amusement.
"No. He was chiefly trying to impress on me the fact that you are very
ill and that you require to be kept quiet and not worried in the least."
"Dear Edgar! he is most considerate! He quite spoils me."
"I was very much surprised to hear that you had no doctor in attendance,
Mrs. Bodley-Chard. Wouldn't it be better for you to see some one?"
Mrs. Bodley-Chard uplifted her hands in mute protest.
"Doctors! I've spent fortunes on them, and they've never done me the
smallest good. The last one I had--a man from Mount Street, a very new
broom who was going to sweep the West End quite clean--quarrelled with
Edgar. What do you think? He actually had the audacity to say that
there was nothing whatever the matter with me and that, if I were a poor
woman who had to get my living, I should be going about quite well."
Isla privately wished she knew that doctor. She felt sure that she
should like him.
"But perhaps, though he need not have put it so harshly, there was a
grain of truth in what he said, and at least it was an honest expression
of opinion."
"Edgar was furious and kicked him out of the house--not actually, you
know, but he told him very plainly what he thought of him. They had a
frightful row, and he said all sorts of things to Edgar--impertinent,
even libellous things. Poor dear, he was very good about it, and, for
my sake, took no further steps against Dr. Stephens, because he did not
wish me to be worried."
"And since then?"
"Since then I haven't had anybody, and I'm just as well without anybody.
Edgar is very clever. He studied medicine for a time before he went on
the Stock Exchange, and I believe that it was because Stephens found
that he knew a little too much that they quarrelled as they did. Edgar
gives me all the medicine I need, which isn't much--chiefly,
sleeping-draughts. I used to have such dreadful nights before he took
me in hand. Fancy! Dr. Stephens wanted to stop the sleeping-draughts."
"I don't wonder at that," said Isla quickly. "I should like to stop
them, too."
"You'd never be so cruel. Nobody would. Why, they are my greatest
comfort. I suffer so with my head."
"But it is very dangerous to use them, as you do, without proper medical
supervision."
"But, you see, I have medical supervision. My husband quite understands
all about them."
"It is very dangerous," asserted Isla firmly, "and I am surprised that
Mr. Bodley-Chard does not see it."
"Ah, now you are going to be cross and horrid, just as my first husband
used to be. He hated ill-health. He was one of those great big,
overpowering sort of men who never have a day's illness in their lives.
But he dropped down dead suddenly one day when we were lunching in the
city together. Oh, it was dreadful! I can never forget Edgar's
kindness at that time. He was Mr. Bodley's chief clerk and understood
all his business. So, you see, when I married him it made everything
very easy. I have not the smallest trouble about money now."
Isla listened to all this with very mixed feelings, and she tried to be
just in her judgment of Mr. Bodley-Chard. But she found that the most
difficult of all the tasks set her at Hans Crescent.
She tried to change the subject.
"It's a beautiful morning, Mrs. Chard. Won't you let me help you to
dress so that we may get out in the sunshine? Have you a carriage?"
"Not now. We simply job one at Burdett's. But I don't want to go out,
thank you. Edgar is so afraid of a chill for me. We are very happy,
Miss Mackinnon," she said with a small touch of dull defiance in her
heavy eyes. "In spite of the ten years' difference in our ages, I could
not have a more devoted husband. Mr. Bodley was so different! He was
the sort of man who makes people run about for him, and he used to shout
at the servants dreadfully. Not but what he was kind enough and
generous enough, too, in his way. But he had not dear Edgar's delicacy
of feeling. He is never cross, however put out he may be. He says that
a gentleman's first duty is to control his temper."
Isla listened to this eulogy wholly unmoved. She had by this time
arrived at the conclusion that Mrs. Bodley-Chard's mental faculties were
impaired by bodily weakness and by indulgence in some form of narcotic.
She made up her mind very quietly to do what she could to combat the
unwholesome forces which surrounded this woman's life, and already she
had vague ideas of her plan of campaign. If only she could persuade
Mrs. Chard to call in that Mount Street doctor, between them they might
manage to bring her back to the plane of active, healthy life.
Isla's practised eye told her that there was no actual disease, but that
her hypochondriacal weakness had been so pandered to that she had
completely lost her will-power. It was a sad spectacle, and Isla rose
with courage to the idea of working some improvement.
She must go warily, however, realizing the fact that she had much
prejudice to overcome. With Mr. Bodley-Chard's opinion or attitude in
the matter she did not concern herself. She was his wife's servant, and
she would do her duty by her.
Isla's introduction to this domestic drama was the very best thing that
could have happened to her just then. She threw herself heart and soul
into it with all the ardour of her Celtic temperament; only she was
liable to err in the haste and impulsiveness with which she desired to
act.
"Then you won't go out to-day?" she said coaxingly--"not even after I
have been out and reported on the sunshine?"
"Not to-day--another day perhaps, and if Edgar likes the idea we could
all have a little drive together. I'm going to sleep again now. Did you
ever see such a sleepy-head?"
Isla had her own thoughts as she left the room to interview the cook and
to take up her position definitely in the household. That part of her
business presented no difficulties whatever. The one thing that filled
her with misgiving was the physical and mental condition of Mrs.
Bodley-Chard.
Her dislike of the husband had increased after her conversation with him
at the breakfast table. He had started by being complimentary and
charming, but, finding Isla unresponsive, had then spoken rather
disagreeably about her position in the household, warning her quite
pointedly that Mrs. Bodley-Chard was in the hands of a capable maid who
understood her temperament and who would not brook any interference from
outside. Isla listened in silence, and, remembering her impression of
Fifine, felt her pity for Mrs. Chard increase.
Having reduced the new inmate of the house to silence and--as he
thought--submission, Mr. Bodley-Chard departed airily to the city to
forget all about his wife. For the first time, however, since he had
become a pensioner on a rich woman's bounty he was to find himself
weighed in the balance and found wanting. Isla's eyes had a
disconcerting clearness, and her recent experiences had made her
suspicious and critical of all mankind.
She found that her duties in the house were by no means heavy.
There was a sufficient staff of servants to do the work properly, though
they wanted careful handling. Isla's gift in that direction was a
special one. She had that nice mixture of friendliness and hauteur
which made its due impression on the women of a household which had
never had a proper mistress. When they found that Miss Mackinnon knew
her business, and that she intended that they should know theirs, too,
they submitted with a very fair grace.
There were five servants in the house besides the French maid. Fifine
was Isla's only failure, and before she had been a week in the house she
was obliged to conclude that the Frenchwoman was Mr. Bodley-Chard's
ally, working with him to keep his wife in a state of bodily
helplessness and mental confusion.
On Sunday afternoon she walked across the Park in the cool autumn wind
to tell Agnes Fraser some of her experiences. She found that good lady
much perturbed by a letter which she had received from Elspeth Maclure.
"Read that, Miss Isla, and tell me what to say when I write back. It's
maistly aboot you."
Isla sat down and took out Elspeth's rather badly written sheet, while
Agnes critically regarded her and was obliged to admit that she looked
better than when she had left her house four days before.
Elspeth wrote without embroidery to her old neighbour of her own
concerns and of the things that were happening in the Glen:--
"DARRACH, LOCHEARNHEAD, 18 _October_.
"DEAR NANCE,--It's ages since onybody has heard from you, but I must
write, for things are that queer here that you would hardly ken the
Glen. I suppose you have heard about the American folk in Achree.
There's naething the matter with them, and some of us wish that they
were there for good and that we had no other Laird. We were to leave at
Martinmas, but Donald has gotten round the Laird to let him stop another
year at a higher rent. That will give us time to look about. But, as I
said to Miss Isla, my man will never leave Darrach and live. He'll be
found in the Loch afore the day comes, or else dee of a broken hert in
the bed where he was born. Miss Isla has gone away from the Glen, but
maybe you have seen her. She seemed to forget all about us lately, but
the poor lassie's head must be near turned with all the trouble of
Achree. They're saying in the Glen that her and the Laird had words
before she left and even that he doesn't know now where she is. Some
say she has gone away to foreign parts to Lady Mackinnon, and then,
again, there's some say naebody kens where she is. It's a terible
business anyway, and if you have seen or heard tell of her I wish you
would write and let us know, for there's a heap of folk in the glens
that are not easy in their minds about it. They're saying, to, that the
Laird is after one of the Miss Rosmeads--the one that divorced her man
in America, but that there's somebody else has a grip of him. There was
a woman stopping at the Strathyre Hotel. William Thorn that is the
Boots there told Donald about her the other day. And it seems that she
talked a lot about the Laird and about what would happen if he sought to
marry Mrs. Rodney Payne. Then, quite suddenly--I believe it was the
very night before Miss Isla went away--he went to Strathyre and saw her.
They went out for a walk together, and the next morning she left with
the train. Sic ongauns, Nance--very different from the auld days at
Achree when we wass all happy together! Write soon to your auld neibour
and say what you think about all this, and mind you tell me if you've
see Miss Isla. That's the chief thing. Only don't send a postcard,
Nance, for David Bain reads every wan of them and the Glen hass all the
news afore a body gets it themselves. Love from your auld neibour,
"ELSPETH MACLURE".
Isla laid down the closely-written sheet, and a little quiver ran across
her face.
Agnes Fraser sat forward, her questioning eyes very eager and bright.
"What am I to say, then, Miss Isla?"
"Say, Agnes, that you have seen me and that I am quite well. But I
forbid you to give any particulars. Do you understand?"
"I understand, of course, but I dinna see, Miss Isla, how it is possible
for ye to live long like this. Some o' your folk will come seekin'
ye--that's a sure thing. If Mr. Malcolm believes that ye have gane to
Lady Mackinnon he will soon be hearin' frae them that you are not there.
It's a dreadfu' business a'thegither, and I hate the idea of where ye
are now. It doesn't sound richt at a'. Leave it the morn, Miss Isla,
and come back here."
"No, no. I am very comfortable. I am well paid, and I am interested in
what's going on in the house. I had no idea that there were such
exciting incidents in real life. I feel really as if I were a sort of
Sherlock Holmes, and I don't worry half as much as I used to do about my
own affairs."
Isla spoke as she felt at the moment, but the time came when she
realized that there had been more truth and foresight in Agnes Fraser's
point of view than she had admitted.
After four days' close observation in the household of Mrs. Bodley-Chard
she arrived at an absolute conviction as to what was actually happening.
Mrs. Chard was being kept continuously under the influence of drugs that
were gradually destroying her will-power and leaving her ever weaker and
weaker and more utterly in the hands of her unscrupulous husband.
That he was unscrupulous Isla had not had the smallest doubt from the
moment she entered the house. Also, she had satisfied herself that the
French maid carried out all his instructions regarding her mistress,
and, as she was in close attendance on her, while Isla was only an
occasional visitor to her room, she had everything in her power.
Finding that Isla kept him at arm's length and that she had not the
smallest intention of being friendly with him, Mr. Bodley-Chard
abandoned all his efforts to attract her and treated her in a very
off-hand manner. Without being positively rude, his manner was most
offensive.
Isla, however, entrenched herself behind her natural reserve and did not
mind. One day she made so bold as to put a very straight question to
Mr. Chard.
"Mrs. Chard is very unwell to-day," she said quietly and politely. "She
is quite unable to give her mind to any of her ordinary affairs."
"There is no occasion for her to give her mind to anything. People are
paid to do the work of the house," he said pointedly.
"That is not what I mean. Her mind seems to wander. May I call in a
doctor? It distresses me to see her like that."
A cold, almost baleful light came into his eyes, and his mouth, under
the carefully-trimmed moustache, became very ugly.
"You are my wife's housekeeper--not her nurse."
"Pardon. I was engaged as a housekeeper-companion," said Isla quite
clearly. "And I can't see her growing worse every day without being
troubled about it. Hasn't she any relations or friends who could come
and take her in hand, then? It does not seem right to leave her so much
in the hands of a flighty French maid."
"Are you aware that your words are offensive and that they cast an
imputation upon me? When I think my wife requires other attention or
supervision it will be time to get it. She has the most implicit
confidence in me--or had until you sought to undermine it."
Isla did not even take the trouble to deny the false charge, but merely
left the room, seriously troubled about what was her duty in the matter.
A week later, she left the house one morning to do her ordinary shopping
and, in the course of her outing, walked the whole length of Mount
Street, looking for the house of Dr. Stephens. When she found it she
hesitated a moment or two before she rang the bell. She was only
encouraged to take this step by the reflection that a doctor's
consulting-room is the grave of many secrets and that nothing she could
say there would be used against her.
A motor-car was in waiting, and when the door of the house was opened
she saw the doctor coming out to start upon his rounds.
"I am just going out, but I can see you, of course," he said cordially
enough, leading the way to his consulting-room.
Isla's first look at him pleased her. He was tall and thin and
clean-shaven with a clever, serious face--a man to whom it would be
possible to explain the situation in a very few words.
"You don't know me, Dr. Stephens, and I hardly know how to explain my
call this morning. I come from the house of Mrs. Bodley-Chard in Hans
Crescent."
"Oh, indeed!" he said interestedly. "And how is Mrs. Chard?"
"She is very unwell," said Isla in a low, quick voice. "I am her
housekeeper-companion. My name is Mackinnon."
"Yes?" said the doctor still interestedly. "Mrs. Bodley-Chard has had a
good many, I think."
"I have been there only three weeks, and I am seriously concerned about
her. It is because she told me you were once her medical attendant that
I am here to-day."
"Yes. But as I have ceased attendance upon the lady I hardly know why
you should have called."
"I simply had to come. Mrs. Chard has no doctor attending her at
present. I understand that she has had none since you left. And it is
quite time that somebody was on the spot to--to look after her.
Otherwise I believe she will die."
"Why do you think that?"
"Because she is being kept almost continuously under the influence of
drugs, administered by her husband and her French maid," said Isla quite
clearly and unhesitatingly. "I believe myself there is nothing the
matter with her except that, and if she were removed from it all she
would get quite well."
Dr. Stephens took a turn across the floor, and when he came back to
Isla's side his face was even graver than it had been.
"Miss Mackinnon, I don't for a moment doubt the truth of what you are
saying. On the contrary, I know it to be perfectly true. But we are
quite powerless."
"Oh, how can you say that! It is terrible if two responsible persons
know that this wicked thing is going on and take no steps to stop it! I
can't be a party to it, and I was in hopes that you would help me."
"I was kicked out of the house by that unspeakable cad, Chard, and I
can't go back again. We have no possible way of getting at him, except
one--to lodge a complaint with the police. Are you prepared to do that?
Frightful responsibility is incurred by taking that step, of course--to
say nothing of the publicity attending it."
Isla sank back.
"Oh, Dr. Stephens, I couldn't do that! But surely you, an influential
medical man, knowing the facts, can do something--ought to do
something----"
He shook his head.
"I'm not so well up in medical jurisprudence as I used to be," he said
with a slight smile. "But I'll take expert opinion to-day. Could you
possibly come and see me to-morrow?"
"I could, of course. What I am trying to do is to persuade Mrs. Chard
to let you resume personal attendance on her. If she consents will you
come?"
"I don't know. It is a very awkward case. Don't forget that Chard put
me out of the house because I told him quite plainly--well, just what
you have told me to-day."
Isla saw the difficulties of the position and, after a little more
conversation with the doctor which strengthened her determination to get
him back to the house, she bade him good-morning.
When she reached Hans Crescent it was almost lunch-time, and Robbins,
the butler, was waiting for her with a note.
"This has come by hand from the city for you, Miss. It is from Mr.
Chard."
Isla turned aside to open the letter, and when she broke the seal she
saw a pink slip that looked like a cheque.
Within, there were written a few curt words, dismissing her from her
position in the house and requesting that she would leave before four
o'clock.
With reddening cheeks she passed up the stairs and tapped lightly at the
door of Mrs. Chard's room. There was no answer, and, after repeated
knocks, she tried to open the door and found it locked.
At the moment Fifine appeared at the other end of the corridor with a
small, satisfied smirk on her lips.
"Mrs. Chard can't see you, Mees. She particularly said I was not to let
you in. She's asleep now. She told me to say that she will write to
you in the evening if you will be good enough to leave your address."
Isla turned on her heel, her quick Highland temper flashing in her eyes.
She was very sorry for the poor woman, but she could not be ordered from
her house a second time.
She walked to her own room and began to gather her belongings together.