III
JANET PEMBROKE
Leaving the two doctors to their consultation I went back into thedrawing-room.
Although this room was the duplicate of our own living-room in theapartment across the hall, it presented quite a different appearancebecause of its richer furnishings. The simple tastes of my sister andmyself did not incline us to velvet hangings and heavily upholsteredfurniture. Our whole room was lighter in effect, but the Pembrokedrawing-room, while harmonious in coloring and design, was almostoppressive in its multitude of appointments. Tall pedestals supportedlarge pieces of Chinese bronze. Embroidered screens made a backgroundfor high, carved chairs and inlaid tabourets. The rugs were antique andthick, the curtains conventionally draped and the pictures on the wallswere paintings of value.
I instinctively felt that all of this reflected the old uncle's taste,rather than that of Miss Pembroke, for, though I had not seen her often,her general appearance had a note of modernity quite different from theatmosphere of her home.
I glanced at the girl as she sat beside Laura on the sofa. Though not aconnoisseur in women's clothes, I am yet not so absurdly ignorant asmany men are. Miss Pembroke wore a simple house dress of soft materialand of an old rose color. There was a big black satin bow effectivelyattached somewhere--I can't describe its location, but it had broadstreamers that fell gracefully to the floor. The simply cut garment andthe soft dull color suited the girl's pale white complexion and darkhair. She was doubtless of an unusual pallor that morning, which madethe thick curls clustering round her brow, and the big brown eyes seemeven darker than usual.
It was late in October and a lighted gas log gave a comfortable warmthto the room.
Miss Pembroke seemed to be quite herself again, though still somewhatdazed, apparently, by what had happened. She showed no inclination totalk, but her manner was quiet and composed as she asked me to beseated. I had no wish to intrude, but I thought there might be otherways in which I could serve her, so I sat down and waited. There was anindescribable something in her manner, or rather in her appearance, thatpuzzled me.
I had thought her beautiful before, but in this time of sorrowfulemergency there was a mysterious expression on her face that gave her anadded charm. She was not pathetic or appealing in effect, but seemed tobe possessed of an energy and excitement which she determinedlysuppressed. She showed no sign of grief at her uncle's death, but hercalmness and self-control were unmistakably the result of a strong willpower. Had she been broken-hearted, but for some reason determined thatno one should know it, she would have acted this same way; but it alsoseemed to me that had she felt a secret sense of relief, even almost ofgladness, at being released from the old man's tyranny, she must haveacted much the same.
Occasionally her composure was broken by a sudden, quick gesture or anabrupt, impulsive remark.
"Charlotte," she said suddenly, "why do you stay here? You may as wellgo to the kitchen and go on with your work."
The black girl rolled her eyes apprehensively toward Mr. Pembroke'sroom, as if a superstitious dread made her hesitate.
"I don't like to go off my myse'f alone, Miss Janet," she said.
"But you must, Charlotte," said Miss Pembroke nervously, but notunkindly; "you must go and clear away the breakfast things."
"But yo' haven't had yo' breakfast, Miss Janet, honey."
"Never mind, Charlotte; I can't eat any breakfast. Clear it all away. Idon't want anything."
I was much impressed with the tense, drawn expression of the speaker'sface, and the quick, sharp accents of her voice, as if she had almostreached the limit of her self-control.
Here Laura interposed: "I'm sure, Miss Pembroke, you would feel betterable to meet the day if you would eat something. Charlotte, if you willbring just a cup of coffee and a roll on a tray, I think Miss Pembrokewill take some of it."
"Yas'm," said Charlotte, and, falling, as nearly every one did, into theway of obeying Laura's suggestions, she went away.
I endeavored to keep up the conversation by casual and unimportantremarks, and Laura ably assisted me, by responding to my observations.But though Miss Pembroke tried to join the conversation, it wasimpossible for her, and, as I had feared, her tense self-control gaveway and she suddenly broke down in a fit of hysterical sobbing.
Laura tried to soothe her, but had sense enough not to try to stop hercrying. She let the nervous and overwrought girl give way to her tearswhich of themselves brought relief.
"I didn't love him!" she exclaimed, her voice broken by sobs, "andthat's why I feel so bad. I tried to love him, but he wouldn't let me.I honestly tried--don't you believe I did?"
She grasped Laura's hands as she spoke, and looked into her eyes.
"Of course I believe it," replied Laura, heartily; "don't think aboutthat now, Miss Pembroke. I'm sure you have nothing to reproach yourselffor."
"Oh, yes, I have. I'm a wicked girl! I ought to have been more patientwith Uncle Robert. But he was so old and so cruel. He was my mother'suncle, you know, and he took me on sufferance--because he couldn't helphimself--and he never let me forget it. He told me a dozen times a daythat I was dependent on him for the bread I ate. And last evening we hada most awful quarrel! One of our very worst. Oh, I can't bear toremember it!"
"Don't remember it, dear," said Laura, with her arm still around thequivering body of the girl; "don't think of it."
"Think of it! I can never forget it. You see, he was determined that Ishould----"
Apparently Miss Pembroke had been about to make a confidant of Laura,when she suddenly remembered my presence. She straightened up with astart, and seemed to recover not only her poise, but the hauteur which Ihad so often observed in her demeanor.
It was a relief to the situation when at that moment Charlotte, themaid, returned with a daintily-appointed breakfast tray.
It was quite evident that the colored girl adored her young mistress.She hovered about her, arranging the tray on a small table at her sideand looked at Miss Pembroke with an air of loving concern.
"Do try and eat sumpin, Miss Janet, honey; do, now."
"Thank you, Charlotte," and Miss Pembroke looked kindly at the girl; "Iwill try."
With a little nod, she tacitly dismissed the maid, but Charlottelingered. After a moment of hesitation, she volunteered a suggestion,which was evidently weighing on her mind.
"Miss Janet, honey," she said, slowly, "ain' yo' gwine send fo' MasterGeorge?"
"George!" exclaimed Janet Pembroke. "Why, how strange I hadn't thoughtof it! Of course we must send for George. I'll telephone at once. Youmay go, Charlotte."
Again Charlotte left the room, and Miss Pembroke turned to Laura toexplain.
"George," she said, "is George Lawrence, my cousin. He is my onlyrelative except--Uncle Robert. He used to live with us, but a few monthsago he moved to bachelor apartments farther downtown. If you willexcuse me, I will telephone for him."
The telephone was in a small adjoining room, which was really rather alarge alcove off the drawing-room. This was apparently a sort ofmusic-room here, while my corresponding alcove--for the apartment was,of course, a duplicate of our own--I used as my smoking-room.
I heard Miss Pembroke, in a calm, clear voice, call up her cousin andask him to come at once. She did not tell him what had happened. Thenshe hung up the receiver and returned to where we sat.
"I don't see why I didn't think of George sooner," she said. "I ought tohave sent for him the very first thing."
"You were so dazed," I suggested, "that what would ordinarily be themost natural thing to do did not occur to you."
"Yes," she said, catching at my suggestion almost eagerly--"yes, thatmust have been it. I was dazed, wasn't I?"
"Indeed you were," said Laura soothingly. "You fainted quite away."
"Oh, yes," returned the girl; "that was when Doctor Masterson told methat Uncle Robert was dead. It was such a shock. I couldn't believe it,you know. Why, I never faint! I'm not that sort."
"Even so
," said Laura, "the sudden shock was quite enough to cause youto faint."
The girl looked at her almost wistfully. "Yes, it _was_ enough, wasn'tit?" she said; "a shock like that would make anybody faint, wouldn't it?I just couldn't believe it. We--we never dreamed he would die suddenly.I wonder what George will say?"
"Is there any one else that you would like to have notified?" I asked.
"No," she said. "I have no other relatives at all. Of course we musttell Milly Waring, but I'll wait until after I see George."
"But aside from relatives, Miss Pembroke," I said, "is there no one elsewho ought to be notified? Ought you not to advise your uncle's lawyer?"
I was all unprepared for the effect this casual suggestion had upon thegirl. Although she had recovered her composure almost entirely, it nowseemed to desert her again. But instead of weeping her emotion was of adifferent nature; she seemed intensely angry. A red spot appeared ineither pale cheek, and her dark eyes flashed fire. Her voice quiveredwhen she spoke, but it sounded like the accents of suppressed rage.
"Uncle Robert's lawyer!" she exclaimed, in a tone of scorn; "he's thelast person I want to send for!"
The words of themselves were astonishing, but not nearly so much so asthe scathing inflection with which they were uttered.
"Then we won't send for him," said Laura, in her soothing way. "Youshan't be troubled just now."
Laura looked at me with a glance of deep reproach, which was, to say theleast, unjust; for, as a lawyer, it seemed to me I had made a mostrational suggestion. Moreover, my sister's change of base somewhatsurprised me. She it had been who denounced Miss Pembroke as beingdeceitful, melodramatic and untrustworthy! Now, she was not onlybefriending the girl as only one woman can befriend another, but she wasresenting a most common-sense suggestion on my part.
But I was destined to learn that Janet Pembroke always did theunexpected.
As suddenly as it had come, her flash of anger left her, and with aquiet, almost expressionless face, she turned to me, and said: "You arequite right, Mr. Landon. I am sure it is a case where my uncle's lawyershould be called in. He is Mr. Leroy--Graham Leroy--and I suppose Iought to tell him at once about my uncle."
"You don't like Mr. Leroy?" I said, impulsively. Had I paused to think,I should not have spoken thus personally. But Miss Pembroke answeredsimply:
"No, I do not like Mr. Graham Leroy. But that does not make anydifference. He has full charge of my uncle's financial affairs; and,too, he has long been his personal friend and adviser. So, I know it isright to send for him."
She sighed, as if her decision were entirely because of what sheconsidered her duty.
It was absurd of me, to be sure, but I am always given to jumping atconclusions, and it flashed across me that Graham Leroy's interest inthe Pembroke family extended farther than his professional relationswith the old gentleman. I know him slightly, as a brother lawyer, and Iknew that from a feminine point of view he was a most fascinating man.He was a bachelor, and though not young, was handsome, brilliant andexceedingly distinguished in effect. Moreover, flattering myself that Iunderstood the contrariness of a woman's assertions in such matters, mymind leaped to the conviction that because Miss Pembroke had denouncedhim, she was in all probability in love with him.
And then I sternly inquired of myself how it could possibly matter to meif she were.
But this stern and questioning attitude of myself to myself did notdeceive me in the least. I knew perfectly well that I was alreadysufficiently interested in Janet Pembroke to resent the introduction ofsuch a dangerous factor as Graham Leroy into the case. Being a lawyer,the absurdity of my own mental attitude was perfectly clear to me, butbeing a man, I didn't care if it was. Of course, my sentiments towardher were nothing more than admiration for her beauty and sympathy forher sorrow. If these were augmented by the elusive mystery that seemedto enwrap her, that was an argument in justification of my suddeninterest in a comparative stranger.
"Will you, Otis?" Laura was saying, and I collected my scattered witswith a start, as I said, "will I what?"
"Will you telephone to Mr. Leroy?" she said, a little impatiently, and Iknew she was repeating her question.
"Of course," I said, jumping up and looking for the telephone book.
"His number is on the card by the telephone," said Miss Pembroke, and ina few moments I had Leroy's call. But he was not in his office, soleaving word for him to come as soon as possible, I hung up thereceiver.