THE NEW CHAPTER
Miss Baldwin came back to Hayslope after the Christmas holidays not
without hopes of developments having taken place during her absence,
which would introduce the new chapter she was longing for. Her return
after holidays was always greeted with welcoming chatter by Alice and
Isabelle, who were of an age when even the arrival of a governess to
whom they were not greatly attached was something of an excitement. Miss
Baldwin never seemed to take much interest in the news they poured out
to her, and she asked very few questions; but she had gathered a good
deal by the time her charges were in bed and her time was her own to
think it over.
The coming move was the most important piece of news. The excitement of
the children over any change was enough in this instance at least to
balance their regrets at leaving Hayslope. It was not quite settled yet,
but it was almost certain that they were going some time in the spring
to live at that dear old farmhouse which you passed on the road to
Pershore, about half a mile before you came to the Castle. Miss Baldwin
remembered it quite well, and the news gave her rather a shock, though
the children seemed to be delighted with the idea. It was an old
stone-built house standing very near the road, with its farmstead
adjoining it--hardly a gentleman's residence, in her opinion, and a
great come down from Hayslope Hall. But it was the farm buildings, which
would go with it, that made it attractive in the eyes of Alice and
Isabelle. And they were to have ponies. That would have made up for more
than they would actually lose by the move. Lord Crowborough was going to
do a good deal to the house before they went to it. It was bigger than
it looked from the outside, and there was a lovely great attic running
the whole length of the house where they would be able to play.
So the children were satisfied, and Miss Baldwin had gathered from the
talk at supper that their elders thought themselves fortunate in finding
such a house for themselves. There was talk of panelled rooms and a fine
oak staircase, and of restorations that were to be made to bring it back
to the state from which it had somewhat fallen. It was a house of the
same quality as Town Farm at Hayslope. Colonel Eldridge's chief regret
seemed to be that he could not restore his own house in the same way,
instead of renting one from somebody else.
To Miss Baldwin's observant eyes, Colonel Eldridge seemed to have aged
since she had last seen him. He had been unwell, and was not quite
himself yet, though he wouldn't acknowledge it. But the change in him
didn't come from that. He was depressed and silent, and made fewer
efforts to conceal his mood before his family than was his custom. Miss
Baldwin wondered whether his family knew everything that was behind this
somewhat startling change in his life. Was he hiding anything from
them? Was he a secret gambler, with a chapter to come in which his
horses would be led away from the door, and his wife would lean over a
ruined man with bent head and nervous fingers clutching a pack of cards?
But she rejected the idea. Colonel Eldridge only had one horse, and an
old pony, and he could hardly be induced to make a four at family
Bridge, with stakes of threepence a hundred. The estrangement from his
brother still continued; she had gathered that. There was something
there to wonder about, perhaps a recently discovered will, perhaps the
change of an heir at birth. Time would show. There was not enough yet to
alter the interest of a love story into one of mystery.
She divined, with some special sense that she had, that Fred Comfrey was
a definitely rejected suitor; though the children had hardly mentioned
his name and the others not at all. But it could not have been that
which made Pamela almost as silent and sad-looking as her father, in
spite of her efforts to behave with her usual brightness, and especially
so to him. It was only at odd moments that Miss Baldwin caught the look
on her face which told her so much; and the silence was for when her
father and mother were not there.
What was it then that was troubling her? Miss Baldwin formed many
conjectures, but recognized that she must wait for further material in
order to set her thoughts to one of them.
The occasion that she wanted came two days after she had returned to
Hayslope. Lord Horsham came over to lunch, and stayed for the
afternoon. He was going back to Oxford the next day.
Pamela's spirits had come back to her. She laughed and chattered in her
old way. Lord Horsham had never had such a reception from her in Miss
Baldwin's recollection, though all of them were brought into it, and
there was no time that Miss Baldwin knew of when she was alone with him
during that lively afternoon. When he had gone, she relapsed into her
listless mood, which was even more marked than it had been before.
So now Miss Baldwin knew. Pamela loved Lord Horsham, and any separation
from him lay heavy upon her spirits. She wondered what had brought the
change, for Pamela had certainly not been in love with him a month ago.
As for him, there was no doubt about it. He was head over ears, and
showed it plainly. It could not be long now before that chapter, and
with it the whole story, was satisfactorily closed.
Colonel Eldridge had a great deal of estate work to do now, which had
fallen somewhat into arrears during the days he had been laid up.
Besides hours spent in his office, where there was now only a clerk to
help him, he had to be out constantly, and in all weathers. Mrs.
Eldridge tried to dissuade him from going about so much, but he was not
a man who would respond to such dissuasion, with the result that he
caught another bad cold and had to take to his bed. There she had him to
some extent at her mercy, but she could not prevent him worrying himself
over what ought to have been done, but couldn't be done, or from busying
himself with papers, when he ought to have been lying still doing
nothing.
He began to mend on the third day, and proposed to get up on the next.
She took up his breakfast herself, and his letters, and then went down
to her own. When she went up again, he was lying still, with very little
breakfast eaten and half his letters unopened. She persuaded him to eat
a little more, and he talked to her for a time, and then said he should
like a message sent over to ask Lord Crowborough to come and see him. He
thought he would go to sleep in the meantime; there wouldn't be much to
do this morning; better take full advantage of his last day in bed. He
smiled at her and said that she was not to come bothering him until Lord
Crowborough came. He wanted to see him about something particularly.
Perhaps she'd better send the car for him, and a note. No, he would
write the note himself. She was to go down and order the car, while he
wrote it.
An hour or so later Lord Crowborough was ushered into his room, with a
face of concern. This was apparently on account of Colonel Eldridge's
illness, for he was quite cheerful with Mrs. Eldridge until she left
them, with instructions not to interrupt their confabulation, which
might take some time. But when the door had been shut behind her his
face was more concerned than ever as he came to the bedside, and said:
"You've had some bad news, Edmund. I'm very sorry to hear that. And
you're not in a fit state for it, either. I can see that."
Colonel Eldridge handed him a letter. "You're the only man, I suppose,
who knows all about it," he said. "Is it true?"
Lord Crowborough read the letter through, with pursing of the lips, and
a deepening frown. Colonel Eldridge watched his face anxiously for a
time, and then turned his eyes away, and lay quite still until he had
finished.
Lord Crowborough glanced at him, when he had come to the end, and waited
a moment before speaking. Then he folded the letter and said: "Yes,
Edmund, it's true, in all essentials; but what a wicked thing to send it
to you! The woman must be mad."
Colonel Eldridge roused himself. "Oh, you see what she says. It has been
lying on her conscience.... Spiritualism, and all that.... She wants
excitement, of course. We needn't bother about her; she's had the money,
thank goodness. She can't do anything more, except put it about, which I
dare say she will do, though she swears she won't. It's you I'm thinking
of, John. I quarrelled with you for saying it; I behaved badly to you.
I...."
Lord Crowborough lifted hands of deprecation. "Oh, my dear Edmund; my
dear fellow! I ought not to have taken the line I did about it. I
regretted it very much afterwards, when the poor boy was killed. Don't
think anything more about that. And don't let it affect you towards his
memory. He'd gone wrong; yes, more than you knew; but he made up for it
in the end. I've thought kindly of him, you know, for a long time past,
and I knew it all the time. Perhaps it would have been better if you had
known it at the first. It's a blow, coming now. But nothing is changed
by it. You must put it aside. You will, in time. It's all forgiven."
There was silence for a time. Then Colonel Eldridge said: "You're kind
and good about it, John. I knew you would be, when I sent for you. And
you've been kind all along. I know now that my son--cheated--yours out
of a large sum of money, besides pushing him into something that he'd
never have taken up, if he had been left to himself. I know Horsham well
enough to say that; and my son was an older man, who ought to have
looked after him--coming into the Regiment as a boy--the son of one of
my oldest friends. It was very bad. I can't quite bring my mind to it.
But the first thing to be done is to arrange for the payment--"
Lord Crowborough had tried to break in once or twice, and now did so
decisively. "My dear Edmund, the money was paid. William knew, and he
insisted on doing it. I couldn't refuse. Whatever I might have done, if
I'd been left to myself, I don't deserve the credit of that. There's
nothing more to be done there."
"William paid, you say?"
"Yes. Fortunately I told him all about it--you knew that, didn't you? It
was when I was still very angry, and had let out to you what I did, that
you took such exception to. I hope I should have done afterwards what I
did do, and draw back from what I had said, so as to keep the knowledge
of it from you. But it was William who showed me that it was the right
thing to do, and almost directly afterwards the poor boy was killed, and
then I can tell you I was very glad that I hadn't pressed it with you.
William saw it at once. He made me take a cheque for the--for the loss,
then and there, and promise never to mention it again, even to him. I've
wished lately...."
He broke off. "You've wished lately that I'd known that," said Colonel
Eldridge quietly. "So do I. One doesn't quarrel with men who treat one
like that."
Lord Crowborough didn't quite understand him. "I don't think you need
consider it as an extra obligation," he said. "I know it was over and
done with, for William, when he wrote his cheque, and made me promise to
say nothing about it. I've talked to him since, as you know, and he was
extremely irritated against you--no sense in pretending he wasn't--but
_that_ never came up. I'm sure he's never grudged it, whatever has
happened since."
"I wasn't thinking about the money. I've thought too much about
William's money, and talked too much about it, to you among others. His
money made it easy for him, perhaps, to pay what had to be paid; but it
had nothing to do with his taking pains to keep me from knowledge of my
son's disgrace."
Lord Crowborough brightened. "Oh, I'm so glad you've said that, Edmund,"
he said. "You've both misunderstood each other, and you've drifted
apart. My dear fellow, if this brings you together again-- Oh, I shall
be so glad of that."
Again there was silence for a time. Then Colonel Eldridge said: "Horsham
knows, I suppose. He and this--this woman's son joined together, didn't
they? It was plain to all of them."
Lord Crowborough had forgotten for the moment what a shock the certain
knowledge of his son's disgrace must have been to him, and set himself
to remove the effects of it from his mind. Colonel Eldridge accepted
what he said, listlessly, but it was evident that no words could heal
the wound that had been dealt him. Only time could do that. Even the
knowledge of his brother's action, which had changed the current of his
thoughts for a time seemed to have brought him only temporary relief. He
seemed hardly interested in it now. There was an air of hopeless
depression on him that Lord Crowborough was quite unable to remove.
He roused himself to agree upon what steps to take. There was little
that could be done. Lord Crowborough himself answered the letter then
and there. He wrote on behalf of his friend, who was ill. His own son
had been concerned in the affair about which Mrs. Barrett had written to
Colonel Eldridge, and all the facts were known to him. Until now they
had not been known to Colonel Eldridge. He would not pretend that he
understood the motives which had led her to deliver such a blow to a man
who had lost his only son, and thus immeasurably increase his grief. He
would only beg of her to let the story go no farther.
He directed and closed the letter without offering to show it to Colonel
Eldridge, who made no request that he should do so. Then he burnt the
letter that had worked such mischief, and soon afterwards he went away,
very disturbed in his mind at what had taken place, and what its effects
might be.
Colonel Eldridge lay in bed all that day, doing nothing, and not wishing
to talk. The next day he got up, and went about his business as usual,
though Mrs. Eldridge begged him to stay in the house.