“And woman’s slander is the worst!”
TENNYSON.
Vera agreed with the world at large that Tit-for-Tat is the ruling
Principle, but she went on a step beyond in her ethics, in her ability
to keep “Tat” for the appropriate moment. She lay on the sofa with a
French novel and awaited Daphne’s arrival. She could see the
carriage-drive from where she lay, and when she saw Reggie drive up, she
closed her novel; it was not one she would quite like Reggie to see her
read. When he was announced she held out her hand languidly.
“My dear Reggie,” she said, “this is really very nice of you. I have
wanted to hear for ages how you liked your prospective stepfather?”
Reggie took a moment selecting the most comfortable chair he could find.
Then he turned his pleasantest and blankest expression to Lady
Middleton.
“Why,” he said, “I haven’t been introduced to him yet. Is he a friend of
yours?”
“Then you have not come to tell me about him?” she said with
disappointment. She had not quite courage enough to break the news to
him herself, but, of course, if he insisted on knowing he could not
blame her. To her surprise he dropped the subject and briefly announced
his purpose. Vera rose to her feet and then sank back again on to the
cushions.
“Daphne,” she repeated, “Daphne! You have come to fetch Daphne to nurse
Arthur Field?”
“Yes,” said Reggie, “I have.”
“This,” said Vera dramatically, “is terrible!” She watched Reggie
beneath her eyelashes.
“It is very sad, isn’t it?” said he. He was absolutely unimpressed. She
turned to him gravely and quietly:
“Reggie,” she said, “I don’t quite know what to do. What you have just
told me has put me into a most difficult position. You have always been
a friend of the family, and I must have some advice——”
“Your husband?” Reggie interrupted her.
“Is in London,” said Vera quickly, “Daphne is a motherless girl. I did
not come to her in time. Oh! if it had been a few months earlier—I
might have helped the poor child, I might have saved her!”
“What do you mean, Lady Middleton?” Reggie asked her sternly. Vera
shuddered.
“It is dreadful—dreadful to have to tell you!” she said. “I do not know
how she first got to know Arthur Field, but she fell desperately in love
with him before she knew that he was already married. I was shocked and
terrified when I discovered the state of things, and felt it my duty to
tell her the whole story immediately. I told her—two weeks too late!”
Reggie got up and went to the window. He heard the sound of wheels
coming from the station road. Vera looked at her watch, she had at least
ten minutes. “I broke off the affair at once,” she went on, “and for the
girl’s sake kept it entirely quiet. I never even told her father. I
blame myself for that now.” The wheels passed the gate. There was a girl
and a man in the dog-cart laughing. Vera sighed deeply. “I urged her
engagement to David, although in many ways I felt he was unsuitable. I
was afraid to break off completely with Arthur Field; he is a dangerous
man, and for the girl’s sake I had to be careful. He came to me at
Overham, and I believed she struggled against his power over her—but I
had to send him away. Then she went to his hospital and I gave her up. I
had done all I could for her. Rosamonde’s return did, indeed, give me
fresh hope, and as Arthur Field was not here I asked her to come to me
again, but if she goes to him now, what am I to do? Is it not my duty to
hush up this affair? No one will believe in the nursing story, and
Daphne will not know that he ever sent for her? You are sure he is
dying?”
“Quite sure,” said Reggie. The sound of wheels came near again, and Vera
saw that her ten minutes were over.
“Let us say nothing at all about it?” she pleaded.
“I think I must give my message to Miss Fordington,” said Reggie
steadily. The trap drove in at the gate, and he saw Daphne. Devonshire
air had filled her face with life and colour, her eyes gleamed with
happy expectation, she sprang lightly to the ground. In a moment more
she was in the room, and Vera was murmuring “Dear child,” and ringing
for the tea.
Reggie turned slowly, and faced her. Her colour deepened, and her eyes,
when they met his, were full of a welcome, that a few minutes before
would have made the world beautiful to him. He held out his hand
frigidly.
“You must have had a long journey, Miss Fordington,” he said. Daphne
turned away to the tea-table. For a moment she was speechless, and
afraid that he would see, that he had hurt her.
Then, with a merry laugh, she broke into a history of her journey and
its incidents. Vera, watching her, could tell nothing. She waited until
Daphne had finished her tea before she turned to Reggie.
“Now, Reggie,” she said, “tell Daphne why you have come?” Then, leaning
back in her chair, she looked from one to the other of them. Reggie’s
eyes were fixed straight in front of him.
“I came to ask you to assist Miss Linton who is nursing a case in the
neighbourhood at the house where I am staying,” he said; “perhaps you
did not get her letter?”
“No,” said Daphne, wonderingly, “I thought she was off for her holiday.”
“She has been sitting up some nights, and she begged that if you were
not too tired you would drive over with me and relieve her to-night.” He
paused.
“Of course I will,” said Daphne; “who is the patient?”
“It is someone you know,” said Reggie. Then Daphne knew that he was
going to break some news to her; she put her cup down very carefully and
looked at him, but he would not meet her eyes.
“It is Mr. Arthur Field,” said Reggie. Vera watched Daphne’s face with
increasing pleasure. All her happy colour had left her, her hands
grasped the chair, with that strange clinging to the inanimate that
terror gives. For the moment the room was so still that the country
world about them seemed full of noises; it might have been London.
“Is he so very ill?” the girl asked finally.
“Very ill,” said Reggie. Vera saw that he would not see how white Daphne
was, nor how stricken, she had her voice in such perfect control.
“My dear child,” she exclaimed, “are you going to faint? Shall I ring
for some brandy?” Daphne got up.
“You have a trap here?” she asked Reggie. “I saw it at the door.”
“Are you going?” Vera asked her. “I am sure it is not really necessary.”
“I am going,” said Daphne, with a sudden flash of anger, “whether it is
necessary or not.” Vera looked at Reggie, and had the pleasure of seeing
him wince.
“I am quite at your services, Miss Fordington,” he said drily. They left
the room in silence. As the cart drove off, she gave a sigh of perfect
satisfaction. There are a good many rewards that virtue does not give.
Vera felt as if she had them all, and virtue into the bargain. She had
always been very good to Daphne, on her twenty-first birthday she had
sent her a pearl necklace.