Keeping up the necessary Darby-and-Joan comedy, Kaimes strolled into
his wife's dressing-room half an hour before dinner to inquire if she
was ready. Leah had a second-hand view of him in a full-length mirror
before which she posed, while her maid added a few final touches to an
eminently successful frock. From the composed expression of his face
she guessed that he had not yet renewed his acquaintance with Mr.
Askew, and therefore must be ignorant that the free-spoken sailor had
let the cat out of the bag. Lady Jim possessed the animal now, but she
did not intend to reveal her capture until Jim explained how he had
sped with the Duke. A slight nod towards the glass showed her husband
that she was aware of his presence, and the maid continued to use
experienced fingers. But Leah looked so charming, that further trouble
in this way was like adding sugar to honey. Jim stared approvingly,
and, when the maid was dismissed, saw his way to a compliment.
"You have the good points of several women rolled into one, Leah," he
said, with the look of a sultan appraising an odalisque.
"That polite speech means much, coming from a man of your experience,
my dear Jim. What good point of Mrs. Penworthy's have I annexed?"
"You're jealous!"
"Horribly! You are so deeply attached to that bundle of faded
chiffon."
"I don't care two straws for her."
"Appearances are misleading, then. But," added Leah, remembering
Askew's eulogy, "it may be that you prefer something that's good and
holy and pure."
"I don't know why you should say that," grumbled Jim, annoyed at being
credited with such primitive tastes.
"You may know before long," and she laughed at the thought of the
marine bomb-shell which would shortly shatter Jim's complacency.
"I don't know what you're talkin' about," said Kaimes, with unaffected
surprise, "an' I'm confoundedly hungry."
"Ah! Did the Duke's lecture give you an appetite?"
"Leah!" Jim became so serious as to look almost intelligent. "My
father is the best man who ever wore shoe-leather."
"He is usually condemned to cloth boots for gouty feet," murmured
Leah, patting the back of her head. "So you've pulled the wool over
his eyes again?"
"I wish you wouldn't use slang," protested Jim, virtuously.
"I can't pretend to vie with Mrs. Penworthy's purity of speech, my
dear man. How much have you got out of the Duke?"
"Well, he hasn't given me money----"
"Oh!"
"But he's promised----
"Ah!"
"I wish you'd let me speak," cried Kaimes, testily, "My father has
promised to pay all the debts----"
"Good heavens! Is he aware of the amount?"
"Wait, I've not finished. He'll pay the debts, and reduce our income
to a thousand a year till he recoups himself."
"Really! I thought you had seen your father, and not a money-lender.
Have you accepted this most generous offer?"
"Yes, I have," said Jim, sulkily, and kicking a mat out of the way.
"I see. It's to be Bayswater after all, James."
"If you talk like that, I'll go down to dinner without you."
"By all means. You've taken away my appetite."
She laughed in a way calculated to still further infuriate Jim, who
paced the room in a towering passion. Nevertheless, she was seriously
angry. Had the Duke refused all help, it would have been more decent;
but this bargain, which was all on one side, annoyed her beyond
measure. What did the Duke mean by taking _their_ money?
"It seems to me we've got to pay our own debts, then," she said, while
Jim seethed like a whirlpool.
"An' why shouldn't we? It's only fair."
Leah stared, and began to think that Jim was too good for this world.
"I hope you are not going to die," she said, anxiously.
"Not in your way," cried Kaimes, misunderstanding her, "we aren't
going to have any buryin' alive or substituted corpses, an' I'm goin'
to hang on as a respectable member of society."
"I'll come and hear you preach, Jim."
"I'm preachin' now," raged her husband, "an' don't you make any
mistake, Leah. I've told the Duke everythin'."
"How injudicious! He might have had a fit."
"He didn't even blame me," said Jim, breaking down, "an' there were
tears in his eyes."
Leah laughed amazingly long and loud, considering the tightness of her
corset.
"I wish I had been present. Did you cry too, Jim?"
"I jolly well nearly did," said Kaimes, truthfully, if
ungrammatically, "though it's no good explainin' to an icicle like
you. But the pater's goin' to pay the debts, free our income, an' let
the Curzon Street house."
"Better and better. Then we _do_ go to Bayswater?"
"He'll allow us one thousand a year till the debts are wiped off,"
went on Kaimes hurriedly, and wishing to get the explanation over,
"an' we can go abroad for a couple of years."
"You can. I shan't!"
"As my wife, you must."
"As an individual, I shan't," retorted Lady Jim, calmly. She was
getting over her rage now, as she foresaw a very different interview
between herself and Jim before they retired for the night. "It is very
good of you to have settled all this without consulting me. And now
that you have done so, let us go to dinner."
"But I----"
"There's the gong," observed Leah, opening the door, "and I don't like
cold soup."
"You'll have to like lots of things now you didn't like before," said
Jim, as they went down.
"The selection doesn't include you, my good man, so don't be
disappointed."
Jim could have shaken her, and began to understand why the lower
orders indulged in wife-beating. But as they were entering the
drawing-room at this moment, he had to play the part of a devoted
husband. Leah floated radiantly into the brilliantly lighted
apartment, and Jim sought out the oldest and ugliest woman he could
find. When he thought of his wife, beauty sickened him for the time
being. Thus it came about that Miss Jaffray had the pleasure of
shouting into his ear throughout a long and wearisome dinner.
Whether it was the work of the fetish or of Lady Frith, Leah did not
know, but she found herself seated at the table with Askew on her
right hand.
The young man looked flustered, and ill at ease. "I'm so sorry!" he
began apologetically, and, as she thought, tactlessly.
"That you're my neighbour?" she interrupted sweetly. "How unkind!"
"No! But I never knew he was your husband."
"Who? Mr. Berring?"
"Don't make it harder for me," he entreated softly. "I've been calling
myself names ever since we parted."
"You should have left that to me, Mr. Askew."
"There's nothing in it, you know," he stuttered, heedlessly. "Of
course, she never married him."
"I hope not, for the sake of morality," said Lady Jim, lightly, and
thinking that the soup was worse than usual. "However, it doesn't
matter. My husband is a modest man, and sometimes drops his title when
travelling. I daresay, as Mr. Berring, he thought he was free to make
love."
"But he wasn't," protested Askew, with a glance towards the
unconscious Jim, who apparently had not recognised him.
"You should tell him so."
"I intend to--in the smoking room."
Lady Jim looked at him imperiously, and softened her voice to a very
direct whisper. "Don't make trouble," she said, in a somewhat
domineering tone; "that will do no good and much harm. And after all,
married or unmarried, every man has a right to admire a pretty woman."
"But not to make love to her," muttered the young man, with another
vengeful glance.
"I am no casuist," replied Leah, calmly; "and you should be pleased
that things are as they are. You can now return to Lima, or Rosario,
and marry the lady."
"She wouldn't have me!"
"Is she so much in love with Mr. Berring, then?"
"Please don't, Lady James. I can't talk like this to you."
She gave a light laugh. "It seems to me that you are talking;
therefore I repeat my question."
"It might only have been gratitude," he murmured.
"For what?"
"Berring--I mean your husband--saved her from being trampled upon by a
mustang."
"How picturesque, and how suited to Jim's qualifications! And
she----?"
"No, she didn't," interrupted Askew, hurriedly. "I see I have been
mistaken. It was gratitude, not love."
"Of course," said Lady Jim, jeeringly; "a woman always prefers to
exercise the former rather than the latter."
"I wish I'd stopped and tried my luck," muttered the sailor, not
clever enough to interpret this speech.
"It's not too late. Mr. Berring is safely secured, by love and the
law, to my apron-strings, so you can go back and----"
"No; I've just come in for a property of sorts, and the service has
seen the last of me."
"Is Señorita Fajardo in the same predicament as the service?"
"There's a cousin, Lady James----"
"A female cousin, who goes with the property, as a fixture. I quite
understand. You have to marry her, out of gratitude for the money, and
without the discomforting passion of love. The Spanish lady's history
repeats itself, I see."
Askew was rather discomfited. "How quick you are!"
"You can't have had much to do with women," she murmured; "but I hope
you will make no trouble in the smoking-room."
"No; as things are, it's none of my funeral," he observed, grumpily.
"Quite so. I am the chief mourner."
"But I say, Lady James," said the lieutenant, anxiously, "I hope what
I've inadvertently told you won't----"
"Of course not," she assured him, mendaciously; "my husband is most
trustworthy, as you can see by his choice of that ugly old maid as a
dinner companion. You were mistaken."
"I think I must have been," said Askew, with great relief. "Of course,
people talk at Lima, as elsewhere," he ended apologetically.
"Unless South America is inhabited by the deaf and dumb, I suppose
they do."
"You're laughing at me, Lady James."
"I always laugh. It's good for the digestion."
"At everything?"
"At everything."
"Even at love?" he asked timidly.
She shot an amused glance at his colouring face. "Remember you are
engaged to the fixture, Mr. Askew."
"But I say, can't I come and see you in town?"
"I shall be delighted, if you can find your way to Curzon Street."
"You live there?" he asked obtusely.
"In a most respectable manner with my husband, Mr. Berring. I'm known
as Lady Jim of Curzon Street. Most improper, isn't it, when
Berring----?"
"I say, don't," expostulated the young man, quickly. "I'll never
forgive myself for being such a fool. Can I call you Lady Jim?"
He was getting on very fast, and Leah, in the interests of virtue,
deemed it necessary to snub him. "Certainly not. Only people who have
known me fifty years address me so familiarly."
"You must believe in re-incarnation then," he retorted.
This was clever and pleased her. "I was Circe in the days of Homer,
Mr. Askew. But as to my name now, there is another Lady Jim--a horrid
woman who carries tracts and meddles with morals, and dresses in a
piously shabby fashion. So that we may not be mixed up, I am known by
the name of the street I live in. To you I am Lady James Kaimes!"
"And Circe, the sorceress," he murmured.
Leah laughed. "We'll see what sort of animal my magic will turn you
into," she observed, with an encouraging smile.
This was a distinct promise, or at least he construed it as such, for
his eyes brightened, and he glanced at her in a way which assured her
that she was looking her best. He was certainly a delightful boy, she
reflected, if somewhat fickle. But a man who was catholic enough to
marry the fixture, and adore the Spanish lady, and make sudden love to
herself, must be worth feminine appreciation and study. Besides, he
was good-looking, and had money, conjoined with a frank and
unsuspicious nature. Assuredly, he might be useful, if not inclined to
explore the Land of Tenderness too assiduously. But in that case, he
might compromise her in an earnest, pig-headed way, which would be at
once boring, ridiculous, and dangerous. Leah approved of playing with
fire, but she was too careful to risk a personal conflagration. Though
allured by the prospect of tormenting an honest heart, she had not
made up her mind to enjoy the opportunity by the time she left the
dining-room. But a distinctly tigerish glance, sent to her address by
Demetrius, almost inclined her to give young Askew the chance of
making a fool of himself. The Russian had apparently noticed the
embryo flirtation.
"All the better," thought Leah, sailing into the Adamless Eden of the
winter garden; "it will be an additional card to play"--which showed
that Lady Jim was by no means satisfied with the arrangement come to
between her husband and his father.
"A cigarette, dear Lady Jim?" simpered Mrs. Penworthy.
"No, thanks; I leave smoking to women who bait their hooks with
agreeable vices"; and she moved towards Lady Canvey.
It was horribly rude, and Mrs. Penworthy choked back an hysterical
scream.
"Delightful woman, Lady James," said Miss Jaffray.
"Delightful," assented the other, who at the moment would gladly have
mounted the scaffold on a charge of murdering her insolent rival. "I
call her perfectly lovely. Such a perfect complexion, and exquisite
figure, and heavenly eyes, and large hands."
But this piece of spite was wasted, as by this time Lady Jim was
seated by her godmother, assuring that sceptical lady how absolutely
delighted she was to learn that dear Jim had arranged matters with the
dear Duke. "And so sweet of the Duke to tell you," she went on. "I
know how anxious you have been about me.
"Can you wonder at it, my dear, when you are so sweet and gentle and
womanly?" said Lady Canvey, who was quite equal to a war of words.
"You must be thinking of Hilda Frith," replied Lady Jim, calmly. "I
cannot call myself such an angel."
"No; you left that to the sailor-boy you were flirting with."
"Poor boy, he doesn't know how to flirt."
"You'll teach him, my dear," chuckled the old lady.
"Not without fees."
"Humph. His education will cost him a pretty penny."
"Possibly. But I might teach him for love, after the fashion of Miss
Tallentire and Lionel."
"Rubbish! Joan doesn't know how to flirt."
"Or to dress either. I must ask her how the Whiteley sales are getting
on."
"Leah!" said Lady Canvey, with a pained look. "Why have you such a
bitter tongue?"
"I must defend myself somehow. You wouldn't have me scratch and bite,
would you?"
"I would have you be more womanly and lovable, my dear."
"On a thousand a year, and such a husband as I have?"
"Every man is what his wife makes him."
"They generally go to other men's wives to be manufactured. Besides,
so far as Jim is concerned, you can't make a silk purse out of a
certain animal's ear."
"My dear, I am an old woman, and perhaps rather sharp-tongued at
times, but I have a motherly feeling for you. Can't you give up this
wild life, and go abroad to devote yourself to Jim? He has his good
points, my dear, and if you would try and live more amicably with him,
I am sure you would be a happy woman. Then, in a year or so, you could
come back to Curzon Street, with all the debts paid, and your full
income to live on. Believe me"--she laid a withered hand on Leah's
beautiful arm--"I speak for the best, my dear girl."
Leah smiled disdainfully. "Now that the sermon's over, can I pass
round the plate?" she said cruelly.
"Not for me to put money in," said Lady Canvey, with a flush. "I
shan't give you a penny. It is useless talking to you, Leah; your one
idea is money and enjoyment and love of admiration."
"It seems to me that those are three ideas," replied Lady Jim, rising;
"but as our conversation is neither enjoyable nor instructive, I shall
go away." All the same she lingered, and talked in a low tone, with
unexpected emotion. "You blame me, Lady Canvey, for being what I am.
Pray, what chance have I had of being otherwise? I lost my mother when
I was a child; I was brought up by a neglectful and selfish father; I
am married to a husband who has nothing of the man about him, save
those handsome looks, which lured me into a much-regretted marriage.
All my life I have lived with worldly and material people, and your
counsel has been as worldly as that of any one of them. I have never
been shown the difference between right and wrong, and there isn't a
single soul in the world who has a spark of love for me. If my
up-bringing and surroundings had been better, I might be a good
woman--so far as I can be, I _am_ a good woman. I have my moments of
regret--I have my moments when I wish I could be a religious, dowdy
saint. But who will help me out of the mire--who will----?" Here she
broke off, for her emotion was becoming too strong for the publicity
of the place. With a violent effort, which showed the strength and
courage of her nature, she calmed down, and the colour faded from her
face, as did the frown, which gave place to a cynical smile. Annoyed
with herself for having given Lady Canvey a glimpse of her better
nature, she walked away, leaving the old woman surprised and startled,
and, in her own selfish way, truly sorry. There was much truth in what
Leah had said.
But her mask was on again the moment she crossed to the door, and
Demetrius, who was obviously looking for her, saw only the beautiful,
calm woman he knew so well. His face was as agitated as Leah's had
been a few minutes previously.
"Madame, I must see you privately."
"What an extraordinary request, monsieur!"
"Ah, but you will understand----" He threw out his hands expressively.
"No; I am ignorant of the deaf and dumb language."
"Cruel--cruel."
"Silly--silly," she mocked, then glanced round with up-raised
eyebrows; "don't make a scene, monsieur, or I shall begin to believe
that you appreciate our English custom of lingering over the wine."
"Will you let me explain?" entreated the Russian.
"Certainly--to-morrow, at four. Ill be in the picture gallery. Good
night"; and with a friendly nod she moved away.
Demetrius swore softly in Russian, which is a most picturesque
language in many ways. Without a glance, Lady Jim ascended the stairs,
well pleased. Demetrius was losing command of himself, and therefore
would be all the easier to manage, should she require his services.
"I'll have that twenty thousand before spring," she decided.