THE GREATEST INDISCRETION
I
In the vestibule of the Quadrant stood Peel, looking a veritable
colossus of negation. As Patricia approached he bowed and led the way
to the lift. As it slid upwards Patricia wondered if Peel could hear
the thumping of her heart, and if so, what he thought of it. She
followed him along the carpeted corridor conscious of a mad desire to
turn and fly. What would Peel do? she wondered. Possibly in the
madness of the moment his mantle of discretion might fall from him, and
he would dash after her. What a sensation for the Quadrant! A girl
tearing along as if for her life pursued by a gentleman's servant. It
would look just like the poster of "Charley's Aunt."
Peel opened the door of Bowen's sitting-room, and Patricia entered with
the smile still on her lips that the thought of "Charley's Aunt" had
aroused. Something seemed to spring towards her from inside the room,
and she found herself caught in a pair of arms and kissed. She
remembered wondering if Peel were behind, or if he had closed the door,
then she abandoned herself to Bowen's embrace.
Everything seemed somehow changed. It was as if someone had suddenly
shouldered her responsibilities, and she would never have to think
again for herself. Her lips, her eyes, her hair, were kissed in turn.
She was being crushed; yet she was conscious only of a feeling of
complete content.
Suddenly the realisation of what was happening dawned upon her, and she
strove to free herself. With all her force she pushed Bowen from her.
He released her. She stood back looking at him with crimson cheeks and
unseeing eyes. She was conscious that something unusual was happening
to her, something in which she appeared to have no voice. Perhaps it
was all a dream. She swayed a little. The same sensation she had
fought back at the telephone was overcoming her. Was she going to
faint? It would be ridiculous to faint in Bowen's rooms. Why did
people faint? Was it really, as Aunt Adelaide had told her, because
the heart missed a beat? One beat----
She felt Bowen's arm round her, she seemed to sway towards a chair.
Was the chair really moving away from her? Then the mist seemed to
clear. Someone was kneeling beside her.
Bowen gazed at her anxiously. Her face was now colourless, and her
eyes closed wearily. She sighed as a tired child sighs before falling
asleep.
"Patricia! what is the matter?" cried Bowen In alarm. "You haven't
fainted, have you?"
She was conscious of the absurdity of the question. She opened her
eyes with a curious fluttering movement of the lids, as if they were
uncertain how long they could remain unclosed. A slow, tired smile
played across her face, like a passing shaft of sunshine, then the lids
closed again and the life seemed to go out of her body.
Bowen gently withdrew his arm and, rising, strode across to a table on
which was a decanter of whisky and syphon of soda. With unsteady
hands, he poured whisky and soda into a glass and, returning to
Patricia, he passed his arm gently behind her head, placing the glass
against her lips. She drank a little and then, with a shudder, turned
her head aside. A moment later her eyes opened again. She looked
round the room, then fixed her gaze on Bowen as if trying to explain to
herself his presence. Gradually the colour returned to her cheeks and
she sighed deeply. She shook her head as Bowen put the glass against
her lips.
"I nearly fainted," she whispered, sighing again. "I've never done
such a thing." Then after a pause she added, "I wonder what has
happened. My head feels so funny."
"It's all my fault," said Bowen penitently. "I've waited so long, and
I seemed to go mad. You will forgive me, dearest, won't you?" his
voice was full of concern.
Patricia smiled. "Have I been here long?" she asked. "It seems ages
since I came."
"No; only about five minutes. Oh, Patricia! you won't do it again,
will you?" Bowen drew her nearer to him and upset the glass containing
the remains of the whisky and soda that he had placed on the floor
beside him.
"I didn't quite faint, really," she said earnestly, as if defending
herself from a reproach.
"I mean throw me over," explained Bowen. "It's been hell!"
"Please go and sit down," she said, moving restlessly. "I'm all right
now. I--I want to talk and I can't talk like this." Again she smiled,
and Bowen lifted her hand and kissed it gently. Rising he drew a chair
near her and sat down.
"You see all this comes of trying to be a Mrs. Triggs," she said
regretfully.
"Mrs. Triggs!" Bowen looked at her anxiously.
Slowly and a little wearily Patricia explained her conversation with
Elton. "Didn't he tell you he had seen me?"
"No," replied Bowen, relieved at the explanation; "Godfrey is a perfect
dome of silence on occasion."
"Why did you suddenly leave me all alone, Peter?" Patricia enquired
presently. "I couldn't understand. It hurt me terribly. I didn't
realise"--she paused--"oh, everything, until I heard you were going
away. Oh, my dear!" she cried in a low voice, "be gentle with me. I'm
all bruises."
Bowen bent across to her. "I'm a brute," he said, "but----"
She shook her head. "Not that sort," she said. "It's my pride I've
bruised. I seem to have turned everything upside down. You'll have to
be very gentle with me at first, please." She looked up at him with a
flicker of a smile.
"Not only at first, dear, but always," said Bowen gently as he rose and
seated himself beside her. "Patricia, when did you--care?" he blurted
out the last word hurriedly.
"I don't know," she replied dreamily. "You see," she continued after a
pause, "I've not been like other girls. Do you know, Peter," she
looked up at him shyly, "you're the first man who has ever kissed me,
except my father. Isn't it absurd?"
"It's nothing of the sort," Bowen declared, tilting up her chin and
gazing down into her eyes. "But you haven't answered my question."
"Well!" continued Patricia, speaking slowly, "when you sent me flowers
and messengers and telegraph-boys and things I was angry, and then when
you didn't I----" she paused.
"Wanted them," he suggested.
"U-m-m-m!" she nodded her head. "I suppose so," she conceded. "But,"
she added with a sudden change of mood, "I shall always be dreadfully
afraid of Peel. He seems so perfect."
Bowen laughed. "I'll try and balance matters," he said.
"But you haven't told me," said Patricia, "why you left me alone all at
once. Why did you?" She looked up enquiringly at him.
During the next half an hour Patricia slowly drew from Bowen the whole
story of the plot engineered by Lady Tanagra.
"But why," questioned Patricia, "were you going away if you knew
that--that everything would come all right?"
"I had given up hope, and I couldn't break my promise to Tan. I
convinced myself that you didn't care."
Patricia held out her hand with a smile. Bowen bent and kissed it.
"I wonder what you are thinking of me?" She looked up at him
anxiously. "I'm very much at your mercy now, Peter, aren't I? You
won't let me ever regret it, will you?"
"Do you regret it?" he whispered, bending towards her, conscious of the
fragrance of her hair.
"It's such an unconditional surrender," she complained. "All my pride
is bruised and trampled underfoot. You have me at such a disadvantage."
"So long as I've got you I don't care," he laughed.
"Peter," said Patricia after a few minutes of silence, "I want you to
ring up Tanagra and Godfrey Elton and ask them to dine here this
evening. They must put off any other engagement. Tell them I say so."
"But can't we----?" began Bowen.
"There, you are making me regret already," she said with a flash of her
old vivacity.
Bowen flew to the telephone. By a lucky chance Elton was calling at
Grosvenor Square, and Bowen was able to get them both with one call.
He was a little disappointed, however, at not having Patricia to
himself that evening.
"When shall we get married?" Bowen asked eagerly, as Patricia rose and
announced that she must go and repair damages to her face and garments.
"I will tell you after dinner," she said as she walked towards the door.
II
"It is only the impecunious who are constrained to be modest," remarked
Elton as the four sat smoking in Bowen's room after dinner.
"Is that an apology, or merely a statement of fact?" asked Lady Tanagra.
"I think," remarked Patricia quietly, "that it is an apology."
Elton looked across at her with one of those quick movements of his
eyes that showed how alert his mind was, in spite of the languid ease
of his manner.
"And now," continued Patricia, "I have something very important to say
to you all."
"Oh!" groaned Lady Tanagra, "spare me from the self-importance of the
newly-engaged girl."
"It has come to my knowledge, Tanagra," proceeded Patricia, "that you
and Mr. Elton did deliberately and wittingly conspire together against
my peace of mind and happiness. There!" she added, "that's almost
legal in its ambiguity, isn't it?"
Lady Tanagra and Elton exchanged glances.
"What do you mean?" demanded Lady Tanagra gaily.
Patricia explained that she had extracted from Bowen the whole story.
Lady Tanagra looked reproachfully at her brother. Then turning to
Patricia she said with unwonted seriousness:
"I saw that was the only way to--to--well get you for a sister-in-law
and," she paused a moment uncertainly. "I knew you were the only girl
for that silly old thing there, who was blundering up the whole
business."
"Your mania for interfering in other people's affairs will be your
ruin, Tanagra," said Patricia as she turned to Elton, her look clearly
enquiring if he had any excuse to offer.
"The old Garden of Eden answer," he said. "A woman tempted me."
"Then we will apply the old Garden of Eden punishment," announced
Patricia.
Elton, who was the first to grasp her meaning, looked anxiously at Lady
Tanagra, who with knitted brows was endeavouring to penetrate to
Patricia's meaning. Bowen was obviously at sea. Suddenly Lady
Tanagra's face flamed and her eyes dropped. Elton stroked the back of
his head, a habit he had when preoccupied--he was never nervous.
"You two," continued Patricia, now thoroughly enjoying herself, "have
precipitated yourselves into my most private affairs, and in return I
am going to take a hand in yours. Peter has asked me when I will marry
him. I said I would tell him after dinner this evening."
Bowen looked across at her eagerly, Elton lit another cigarette, Lady
Tanagra toyed nervously with her amber cigarette-holder.
"I will marry Peter," announced Patricia, "when you, Tanagra," she
paused slightly, "marry Godfrey Elton."
Lady Tanagra looked up with a startled cry. Her eyes were wide with
something that seemed almost fear, then without warning she turned and
buried her head in a cushion and burst into uncontrollable sobbing.
Bowen started up. With a swift movement Patricia went over to his side
and, before he knew what was happening, he was in the corridor
stuttering his astonishment to Patricia.
For an hour the two sat in the lounge below, talking and listening to
the band. Patricia explained to Bowen how from the first she had known
that Elton and Tanagra were in love.
"But we've known him all our lives!" expostulated Bowen.
"The very thing that blinded you all to a most obvious fact."
"But why didn't he----?" began Bowen.
"Because of her money," explained Patricia. "Anyhow," she continued
gaily, "I had lost my own tail, and I wasn't going to see Tanagra
wagging hers before my eyes. Now let's go up and see what has
happened."
Just as Bowen's hand was on the handle of the sitting-room door,
Patricia cried out that she had dropped a ring. When they entered the
room Elton and Lady Tanagra were standing facing the door. One glance
at their faces, told Patricia all she wanted to know. Without a word
Elton came forward and bending low, kissed her hand. There was
something so touching in his act of deference that Patricia felt her
throat contract.
She went across to Lady Tanagra and put her arm round her.
"You darling!" whispered Lady Tanagra. "How clever of you to know."
"I knew the first time I saw you together," whispered Patricia.
Lady Tanagra hugged her.
"And now we must all run round to Grosvenor Square. Poor Mother--what
a surprise for her!"
III
Elton's medical board took a more serious view of his state of health
than was anticipated, and he was temporarily given an appointment in
the Intelligence Department. Bowen's application to be allowed to
rejoin his regiment was refused, and thus the way was cleared for the
double wedding that took place at St. Margaret's, Westminster.
Patricia was given away by the Duke of Gayton. Lady Peggy declared
that it would rank as the most heroic act he had ever performed. Mr.
Triggs reached the highest sartorial pinnacle of his career in a light
grey, almost white frock-coated suit with a high hat to match, a white
waistcoat, and a white satin tie. As Elton expressed it, he looked
like a musical-comedy conception of a bookmaker turned philanthropist.
Galvin House was there in force. Even Gustave obtained an hour off
and, with a large white rose in his button-hole, beamed on everyone and
everything with the utmost impartiality. Miss Brent, like Achilles,
sulked in her tent.
"The only two men I ever loved," wailed Lady Peggy to a friend, "and
both gone at one shot."
"She's a lucky girl," said an old dowager, "and only a secretary."
"Some girl. What!" muttered an embryo field-marshal to a one-pip
strategist in the uniform of the Irish Guards, who concurred with an
emphatic, "Lucky devil!"
At Galvin House for the rest of the chapter they talked, dreamed and
lived the Bowen-Brent marriage. It was the one ineffaceable sunspot in
the greyness of their lives.
HERBERT JENKINS'
SHILLING LIBRARY
BINDLE HERBERT JENKINS
WITHOUT MERCY JOHN GOODWIN
PICCADILLY JIM P. G. WODEHOUSE
THE FRINGE OF THE DESERT R. S. MACNAMARA
THE CHARING CROSS MYSTERY J. S. FLETCHER
THE MAN WITH THE CLUBFOOT VALENTINE WILLIAMS
ALF'S BUTTON W. A. DARLINGTON
HIDDEN FIRES MRS. PATRICK MACGILL
THE LUCK OF THE VAILS E. F. BENSON
THE WHISKERED FOOTMAN EDGAR JEPSON
THE DIAMOND CROSS MYSTERY CHESTER K. S. STEELE
THE MYSTERY OF THE SCENTED DEATH ROY VICKERS
ANTHONY TRENT, MASTER CRIMINAL WYNDHAM MARTYN
THE MARKENMORE MYSTERY J. S. FLETCHER
A DAUGHTER IN REVOLT JOHN GOODWIN
THE BARTERED BRIDE MRS. PATRICK MACGILL
A DAMSEL IN DISTRESS P. G. WODEHOUSE
HIS OTHER WIFE ROY VICKERS
THE COMPULSORY WIFE JOHN GLYDER
THE WINNING CLUE JAMES HAY, Jun.
PATRICIA BRENT, SPINSTER HERBERT JENKINS
THE SECRET OF THE SILVER CAR WYNDHAM MARTYN
ISAACS JOSEPH GEE
PLAYING WITH SOULS COUNTESS DE CHAMBRUN
THE MYSTERIOUS CHINAMAN J. S. FLETCHER
THE FLAME OF LIFE MRS. PATRICK MACGILL
BLACKMAIL JOHN GOODWIN
THAT RED-HEADED GIRL LOUISE HEILGERS
MOLESKIN JOE PATRICK MACGILL
SALLY ON THE ROCKS WINIFRED BOGGS
THE UNLIGHTED HOUSE JAMES HAY, Jun.
THE EDGE OF THE WORLD EDITH BLINN
3 YORK STREET ST. JAMES'S LONDON S.W.1
End of Project Gutenberg's Patricia Brent, Spinster, by Herbert Jenkins