Linley Asserts His Authority.
On the evening of Monday in the new week, the last of the visitors had
left Mount Morven. Mrs. Linley dropped into a chair (in, what Randal
called, “the heavenly tranquillity of the deserted drawing-room”) and
owned that the effort of entertaining her guests had completely worn her
out. “It’s too absurd, at my time of life,” she said with a faint smile;
“but I am really and truly so tired that I must go to bed before dark,
as if I was a child again.”
Mrs. Presty--maliciously observant of the governess, sitting silent and
apart in a corner--approached her daughter in a hurry; to all appearance
with a special object in view. Linley was at no loss to guess what that
object might be. “Will you do me a favor, Catherine?” Mrs. Presty began.
“I wish to say a word to you in your own room.”
“Oh, mamma, have some mercy on me, and put it off till to-morrow!”
Mrs. Presty reluctantly consented to this proposal, on one condition.
“It is understood,” she stipulated “that I am to see you the first thing
in the morning?”
Mrs. Linley was ready to accept that condition, or any condition, which
promised her a night of uninterrupted repose. She crossed the room to
her husband, and took his arm. “In my state of fatigue, Herbert, I shall
never get up our steep stairs, unless you help me.”
As they ascended the stairs together, Linley found that his wife had a
reason of her own for leaving the drawing-room.
“I am quite weary enough to go to bed,” she explained. “But I wanted
to speak to you first. It’s about Miss Westerfield. (No, no, we needn’t
stop on the landing.) Do you know, I think I have found out what has
altered our little governess so strangely--I seem to startle you?”
“No.”
“I am only astonished,” Mrs. Linley resumed, “at my own stupidity in
not having discovered it before. We must be kinder than ever to the poor
girl now; can’t you guess why? My dear, how dull you are! Must I remind
you that we have had two single men among our visitors? One of them is
old and doesn’t matter. But the other--I mean Sir George, of course--is
young, handsome, and agreeable. I am so sorry for Sydney Westerfield.
It’s plain to me that she is hopelessly in love with a man who has run
through his fortune, and must marry money if he marries at all. I shall
speak to Sydney to-morrow; and I hope and trust I shall succeed in
winning her confidence. Thank Heaven, here we are at my door at last! I
can’t say more now; I’m ready to drop. Good-night, dear; you look tired,
too. It’s a nice thing to have friends, I know; but, oh, what a relief
it is sometimes to get rid of them!”
She kissed him, and let him go.
Left by himself, to compare his wife’s innocent mistake with the
terrible enlightenment that awaited her, Linley’s courage failed him. He
leaned on the quaintly-carved rail that protected the outer side of
the landing, and looked down at the stone hall far below. If the old
woodwork (he thought) would only give way under his weight, there would
be an escape from the coming catastrophe, found in an instant.
A timely remembrance of Sydney recalled him to himself. For her sake, he
was bound to prevent Mrs. Presty’s contemplated interview with his wife
on the next morning.
Descending the stairs, he met his brother in the corridor on the first
floor.
“The very man I want to see,” Randal said. “Tell me, Herbert, what is
the matter with that curious old woman?”
“Do you mean Mrs. Presty?”
“Yes. She has just been telling me that our friend Mrs. MacEdwin has
taken a fancy to Miss Westerfield, and would be only too glad to deprive
us of our pretty governess.”
“Did Mrs. Presty say that in Miss Westerfield’s presence?”
“No. Soon after you and Catherine left the room, Miss Westerfield left
it too. I daresay I am wrong, for I haven’t had time to think of it; but
Mrs. Presty’s manner suggested to me that she would be glad to see the
poor girl sent out of the house.”
“I am going to speak to her, Randal, on that very subject. Is she still
in the drawing-room?”
“Yes.”
“Did she say anything more to you?”
“I didn’t give her the chance; I don’t like Mrs. Presty. You look worn
and worried, Herbert. Is there anything wrong?”
“If there is, my dear fellow, you will hear of it tomorrow.”
So they parted.
Comfortably established in the drawing-room, Mrs. Presty had just opened
her favorite newspaper. Her only companion was Linley’s black poodle,
resting at her feet. On the opening of the door, the dog rose--advanced
to caress his master--and looked up in Linley’s face. If Mrs. Presty’s
attention had happened to be turned that way, she might have seen, in
the faithful creature’s sudden and silent retreat, a warning of her
son-in-law’s humor at that moment. But she was, or assumed to be,
interested in her reading; and she deliberately overlooked Linley’s
appearance. After waiting a little to attract her attention, he quietly
took the newspaper out of her hand.
“What does this mean?” Mrs. Presty asked.
“It means, ma’am, that I have something to say to you.”
“Apparently, something that can’t be said with common civility? Be as
rude as you please; I am well used to it.”
Linley wisely took no notice of this.
“Since you have lived at Mount Morven,” he proceeded, “I think you have
found me, on the whole, an easy man to get on with. At the same time,
when I do make up my mind to be master in my own house, I _am_ master.”
Mrs. Presty crossed her hands placidly on her lap, and asked: “Master of
what?”
“Master of your suspicions of Miss Westerfield. You are free, of course,
to think of her and of me as you please. What I forbid is the expression
of your thoughts--either by way of hints to my brother, or officious
communications with my wife. Don’t suppose that I am afraid of the
truth. Mrs. Linley shall know more than you think for, and shall know it
to-morrow; not from you, but from me.”
Mrs. Presty shook her head compassionately. “My good sir, surely you
know me too well to think that I am to be disposed of in that easy
way? Must I remind you that your wife’s mother has ‘the cunning of the
devil’?”
Linley recognized his own words. “So you were listening among the
trees!” he said.
“Yes; I was listening; and I have only to regret that I didn’t hear
more. Let us return to our subject. I don’t trust my daughter’s
interests--my much-injured daughter’s interests--in your hands. They
are not clean hands, Mr. Linley. I have a duty to do; and I shall do it
to-morrow.”
“No, Mrs. Presty, you won’t do it to-morrow.”
“Who will prevent me?”
“I shall prevent you.”
“In what way, if you please?”
“I don’t think it necessary to answer that question. My servants will
have their instructions; and I shall see myself that my orders are
obeyed.”
“Thank you. I begin to understand; I am to be turned out of the house.
Very well. We shall see what my daughter says.”
“You know as well as I do, Mrs. Presty, that if your daughter is forced
to choose between us she will decide for her husband. You have the night
before you for consideration. I have no more to say.”
Among Mrs. Presty’s merits, it is only just to reckon a capacity for
making up her mind rapidly, under stress of circumstances. Before Linley
had opened the door, on his way out, he was called back.
“I am shocked to trouble you again,” Mrs. Presty said, “but I don’t
propose to interfere with my night’s rest by thinking about _you_.
My position is perfectly clear to me, without wasting time in
consideration. When a man so completely forgets what is due to the
weaker sex as to threaten a woman, the woman has no alternative but to
submit. You are aware that I had arranged to see my daughter to-morrow
morning. I yield to brute force, sir. Tell your wife that I shall not
keep my appointment. Are you satisfied?”
“Quite satisfied,” Linley said--and left the room.
His mother-in-law looked after him with a familiar expression of
opinion, and a smile of supreme contempt.
“You fool!”
Only two words; and yet there seemed to be some hidden meaning in
them--relating perhaps to what might happen on the next day--which
gently tickled Mrs. Presty in the region assigned by phrenologists to
the sense of self-esteem.