CHAPTER XXII
DEVELOPMENTS
After the encounter with O'Hara, whatever peace of mind Richard had had,left him. He knew not a moment's quiet; all day, and sometimes allnight, his brain worried round and round the everlasting question: Johnor Lavinia? He had quite decided that it must be either the one or theother; the idea that he might conceivably retain his wife _and_ confessthe truth, never occurred to him. So often had Lavinia assured him thathe had no right to expect her to share his disgrace, that now hebelieved it. He thought that she would elope with Lovelace, whom, histortured mind decided, she really loved. Any attempt to frustrate suchan action would, he supposed wretchedly, be the essence of selfishness.Of course he was not himself, and his brain was not working normally orrationally; had he but known it, he was mentally ill, and if Lavinia hadthought to examine him closely she could not have failed to observe thefever spots on each cheek, the unnaturally bright eyes and the darkrings encircling them. Richard wore the look of one goaded beyondendurance, and utterly tired and overwrought. As he told Mrs. Fanshawe,when she exclaimed at his appearance--he could not rest; he must alwaysbe moving, thinking. She saw that he was not entirely himself, andcounselled him to consult a doctor. His half-angry repudiation of allillness did not surprise her, but she was considerably startled when, inanswer to her pleading that he should have a care for himself, hevehemently said: "If I could die, I should be glad!" She wondered whathis wife was about not to see his condition, and wished that she mightdo something. But she was not acquainted with Lady Lavinia, and shefelt it would be a piece of gross presumption on her part to speak toher of Richard. If she had thought his malady to be physical, shereflected, she might venture a word, but as she perceived it to bemental, she could only hope that it would pass in time, and that hewould recover from his run-down condition.
Lady Lavinia was pursuing her butterfly existence, heeding nothing buther own pleasure, bent on enjoying herself. She succeeded very well, onthe whole, but she could not help wishing that Dicky were a little morecheerful and wishful to join in her gaiety. Of late he was worse thanever, and although he supplied her wants uncomplainingly, she wouldalmost rather he had refused her and shown a little life, than give wayto her with this dreadful apathy.
Lovelace was out of town for a week, and Lavinia was surprised to findhow little she missed him. To be sure, playing with fire was verypleasant, but when it was removed out of her reach, it really made noodds. She missed Harry's adulation and his passionate love-making, forshe was one of those women who must always have admiration andexcitement, but she was not made miserable by his absence. She continuedto flutter round to all the entertainments of the season with one orother of her brothers, and when Lovelace returned he was disturbed byher casual welcome. However, she was undoubtedly pleased to see him, andsoon fell more or less under his spell, allowing him to be by her sidewhen Tracy was not near, and to charm her ears with compliments andgallantry.
To do him justice, Captain Harold was really in love with her and wasquite ready to relinquish his commission if only she would run away withhim. He had private means of his own, and promised her that her everywhim should be satisfied. But Lavinia scolded him and shook her head.Apart from any ulterior consideration, Richard was, after all, herhusband; he, too, loved her, and she was very, very fond of him,although she did plague him dreadfully.
Lovelace assured her that her husband did not love her nearly as much ashe, and when she smiled her disbelief, lost his temper and cried thatall the town knew Carstares to be at Mrs. Fanshawe's feet!
Lavinia stiffened.
"Harold!"
"I am only surprised that you have been blind to it," he continued."Where do you think he goes every day for so long? White's? No. To 16,Mount Street! Stapely called there and met him; another day LadyDavenant saw him with her; Wilding has also met him at her house. Hespends nearly every afternoon with her!"
Lavinia was a Belmanoir, and she had all the Belmanoir pride. Rising toher feet she drew her cloak about her with her most queenly air.
"You forget yourself, Harold," she said haughtily. "Never dare to speakto me of my husband again in that tone! You may take me at once to mybrother."
He was very penitent, wording his apology most cleverly, smoothing herruffled plumage, withdrawing his words, but at the same time contrivingto leave their sting behind. She forgave him, yes, but he must neveroffend her so again.
Although she had indignantly refused to believe the scandal, itnevertheless rankled, and she found herself watching her husband withjealous eyes, noticing his seeming indifference towards her and hismany absences from home. Then came a day when she caused her chair to beborne down Mount Street at the very moment when Richard was coming outof No. 16.
That was enough for Lavinia. So he was indeed tired of her! He lovedanother woman!--some wretched widow! For the first time a real worryplagued her. She stayed at home that evening and exerted all her arts tocaptivate her husband. But Richard, seeing John unhappy, reproachful,every way he turned, his head on fire, his brain seething withconflicting arguments, hardly noticed her, and as soon as he mightpolitely do so, left her, to pace up and down the library floor, tryingto make up his mind what to do.
Lady Lavinia was stricken with horror. She had sickened him by hermegrims, as Tracy had prophesied she would! He no longer cared for her!_This_ was why he continually excused himself from accompanying her whenshe went out! For once in her life she faced facts, and the prospectalarmed her. If it was not already too late, she must try to win backhis love, and to do this she realised she must cease to tease him formoney, and also cease to snap at him whenever she felt at all out ofsorts. She must charm him back to her. She had no idea how much shecared for him until now that she thought he did not care for her. It wasdreadful: she had always been so sure of Dicky! Whatever she did,however exasperating she might be, he would always adore her.
And all the time, Richard, far from making love to Mrs. Fanshawe, washearing anecdotes of his brother from her, little details of hisappearance, things he had said. He drank in all the information,clutching eagerly at each fresh scrap of gossip, greedy to hear it if itin any way concerned John. His brain was absorbed with this onesubject, and he never saw when Lavinia smiled upon him, nor did he seemto hear her coaxing speeches. When she remarked, as she presently did,on his pallor, he almost snapped at her, and left the room. Once she puther arms about him and kissed him on the lips; he put her gently aside,too worried to respond to the caress, but, had she known it--gratefulfor it.
His Grace of Andover meeting his sister at Ranelagh Gardens, thought herface looked pinched, and her eyes unhappy. He inquired the reason, butLady Lavinia refused to confide even in him, and pleaded a headache.Andover, knowing her, imagined that she had been refused some kickshaw,and thought no more about it.
He himself was very busy. Only two days before a groom had presentedhimself at St. James's Square, bearing a missive from Harper, veryillegible and ill-spelt, but to the point:
"YR. GRACE,
"I have took the liberty of engageing this Man, Douglas, in Yr. Name. Ihope I shall soon be Able to have carrid out the Rest of yr. Grace'sInstructions, and trust my Connduct will met with Yr. Grace's Approvall.
Very Obed'tly,
M. HARPER."
* * * * *
Tracy confirmed the engagement and straightway dispatched the man toAndover, where the head groom would undoubtedly find work for him to do.He was amused at the blind way in which the man had walked into histrap, and meditated cynically on the frailty of human nature, whichwill always follow the great god Mammon.
Not three days later came another letter, this time from Mr. Beauleigh,addressed to him at White's, under the name of Sir Hugh Grandison. Itasked for the man Harper's character.
His Grace of Andover answered it in the library of his own home, andsmiled sarcastically as he wrote Harper down "exceeding honest andtrustworthy, as I have always found."
He was in the middle of the letter when the door was unceremoniouslypushed open and Andrew lounged into the room.
His Grace looked up frowning. Not a whit dismayed by the coolness of hisreception, his brother kicked the door to and lowered his long limbsinto a chair.
"May I ask to what I owe the honour of this intrusion?" smiled Tracydangerously.
"Richard," was the cheerful reply, "Richard."
"As I am not interested in either him or his affairs--"
"How truly amiable you are to-day! But I think you'll be interested inthis, 'tis so vastly mysterious."
"Indeed? What is the matter?"
"Just what I want to know!"
Tracy sighed wearily.
"Pray come to the point, Andrew--if point there be. I have no time towaste."
"Lord! Busy? Working? God ha' mercy!" The young rake stretched his legsout before him and cast his eyes down their shapeliness. Then hestiffened and sat up, staring at one white-stockinged ankle.
"Now, damn and curse it! where did that come from?" he expostulatedmildly.
"Where did _what_ come from?"
"That great splash of mud on my leg. Brand new on this morning, and I'vescarce set my nose without doors. Damn it, I say! A brand new--"
"Leg?"
"Hey? What's that you say?"
"Nought. When you have quite finished your eulogy, perhaps you wouldconsent to tell me your errand?"
"Oh, ay!--but twenty shillings the pair! Think of it! ... Well, thepoint--there is one, you see--is this: it is Richard's desire that youhonour him with your presence at Wyncham on Friday week, at three in theafternoon exactly. To which effect he sends you this." He tossed aletter on to the desk. "You are like to have the felicity of meeting methere."
Tracy ripped open the packet and spread the single sheet on the deskbefore him. He read it through very deliberately, turned it over, as ifin search of more, re-read it, folded it, and dropped it into thewastebasket at his side. He then picked up his quill and dipped it inthe ink again.
"What think you?" demanded Andrew, impatiently.
His Grace wrote tranquilly on to the end of the line.
"What think I of what?"
"Why, the letter, of course! What ails the man? 'Something of greatimport to impart to us,' forsooth! What means he?"
"Yes, I noticed 'twas very badly worded," commented Tracy. "I have notthe vaguest notion as to his meaning."
"But what do you make of it? Lord, Tracy, don't be such a fish! Dick issummoning quite a party!"
"You appear to be in his confidence, my dear Andrew. Allow me tocongratulate you. No doubt we shall know more--ah--on Friday week, atthree o'clock."
"Oh, you'll go, then?"
"Quite possibly." He went on writing unconcernedly.
"And you've no idea of what 'tis about? Dick is very strange. He hardlylistens to what one has to say, and fidget--Lord!"
"Ah!"
"I think he looks ill, an' 'pon my soul, so does Lavvy! Do you supposethere is aught amiss?"
"I really have no idea. Pray do not let me detain you."
Andrew hoisted himself out of his chair.
"Oh, I'm not staying, never fear! ... I suppose you cannot oblige mewith--say--fifty guineas?"
"I should be loth to upset your suppositions," replied his Gracesweetly.
"You will not? Well, I didn't think you would somehow! But I wish youmight contrive to let me have it, Tracy. I've had prodigious ill-luck oflate, and the Lord knows 'tis not much I get from you! I don't want toask Dick again."
"I should not let the performance grow monotonous, certainly," agreedthe other. "Fifty, you said?"
"Forty-five would suffice."
"Oh, you may have it!" shrugged his Grace. "At once?"
"Blister me, but that's devilish good of you, Tracy! At once would beconvenient to _me_!"
His Grace produced a key from his vest pocket and unlocked a drawer inthe desk. From it he took a small box. He counted out fifty guineas, andadded another to the pile. Andrew stared at it.
"What's that for?" he inquired.
"The stockings," replied Tracy, with a ghost of a smile. Andrew burstout laughing.
"That's good! Gad! but you're devilish amusing, 'pon rep. you are!" Hethanked his Grace profusely and gathering up the money, left the room.
Outside he gave vent to a low whistle of astonishment. "Tare an' ouns!he must be monstrous well-pleased over something!" he marvelled. "Ishall awaken soon, I doubt not." He chuckled a little as he descendedthe staircase, but his face was full of wonderment.
* * * * *
Lovelace called nearly every day at Wyncham House, but was alwaysrefused admittance, as Lady Lavinia deemed it prudent not to see him.There came a day, however, when he would not be gainsaid, and wasushered into her drawing-room. He kissed her hands lingeringly, holdingthem for a long while in his.
"Lavinia! Cruel fair one!"
She drew her hands away, not too well pleased at his intrusion.
"How silly, Harold! I cannot have you tease me every day!"
She allowed him to sit by her on the window seat, and he again possessedhimself of her hands. Did she love him? She hoped he was not going to befoolish. Of course not. He did not believe her, and started to plead hissuit, imploring her to come away with him. In vain Lady Lavinia beggedhim to be quiet; she had stirred up a blaze, and it threatened toconsume her. He was so insistent that, expecting Richard at any moment,and terrified lest there should be a disturbance, she promised to givehim an answer next evening, at the theatre. She managed to be rid of himin this way, and, with a relieved sigh, watched him walk down thesquare. She was very fond of dear Harry, but really, he was dreadfullytiresome at times.
She brought her tiny mirror out from her pocket and surveyed herreflection critically, giving a tweak to one curl, and smoothing anotherback. She was afraid she was looking rather old this evening, and hopedthat Richard would not think so. She glanced up at the clock, wonderingwhere he was; surely he should be in by now? Then she arranged a chairinvitingly, pushed a stool up to it and sat down opposite. With a sigh,she reflected that it was an entirely new departure for her to strive toplease and captivate her husband, and she fell a-thinking of how he musthave waited on her in the old days, waiting as she was waitingnow--hoping for her arrival. Lady Lavinia was beginning to realise thatperhaps Dick's life had not been all roses with her as wife.
The door opened and Richard came into the room. Deep lines were betweenhis brows, but his mouth was for once set firmly. He looked sombrelydown at her, thinking how very beautiful she was.
Lady Lavinia smiled and nodded towards the chair she had prepared.
"Sit down, Dicky! I am so glad you have come! I was monstrous dull andlonely, I assure you!"
"Were you?" he said, fidgeting with her scissors. "No, I will not sitdown. I have something to say to you, Lavinia. Something to tell you."
"Oh, _have_ you?" she asked. "Something nice, Dicky?"
"I fear you will hardly think so. I am about to make an end."
"Oh--oh, are you? Of _what_?"
"Of this--this deceitful life I am leading--have been leading. I--I--Iam going to confess the whole truth."
"Rich-ard!"
He let fall the scissors and paced restlessly away down the room.
"I--I tell you, Lavinia, I cannot endure it! I cannot! I cannot! Thethought of what John may be bearing is driving me crazy! I must speak!"
"You--you can't!" she gasped. "After seven years! Dicky, for heaven'ssake--!" The colour ebbed and flowed in her cheeks.
"I cannot continue any longer this living of a lie--I have been feelingit more and more ever since--ever since I met--Jack--that time on theroad. And now I can no longer stand it. Everywhere I go I seem to seehim--looking at me--you don't understand--"
Lavinia cast aside her work.
"No! No! I do not! 'Pon rep., but you should have thought of thisbefore, Dick!"
"I know it. Nothing can ex
cuse my cowardice--my weakness. I know allthat, but it is not too late even now to make amends. In a week theywill all know the truth."
"What--what do you mean?"
"I have requested all whom it concerns to come to Wyncham the Fridayafter this."
"Good heavens! Dick, Dick, _think_!"
"I have thought. God! _how_ I have thought!"
"It is not fair to me! Oh, think of your honour--Wyncham!"
"My honour is less than nothing. 'Tis of his that I think."
She sprang up, clutching at his arm, shaking him.
"Richard, you are mad! You must not do this! You must not, I say!"
"I implore you, Lavinia, not to try to make me change my decision. It isof no use. Nothing you can say will make any difference."
She flew into a passion, flinging away from him, her good resolutionsforgotten.
"You have no right to disgrace me! If you do it, I will never forgiveyou! I won't stay with you--I--"
He broke in--this was what he had expected; he must not whine; this wasretribution.
"I know. I have faced that."
She was breathless for a moment. He knew! He had faced it! He had takenher seriously--he always expected her to leave him! Oh, he must indeedbe tired of her, and wanted her to go! What was he saying?
"I know that you love Lovelace. I--I have known it for some time."
Lavinia sank into the nearest chair. To what depths had her folly ledher?
"I shall put no obstacle in the way of your flight, of course...."
This was dreadful! Lady Lavinia buried her face in her hands and burstinto tears. It was true then--he did not love her--he loved Mrs.Fanshawe--_she_ was to elope. She sobbed pitifully as the full horror ofthe situation struck her.
The temptation to gather her into his arms almost overmastered Richard,but he managed to choke it down. If he allowed himself to kiss her, shewould try to break his resolution--mayhap, she would succeed. So helooked away from her, tortured by the sound of her crying.
Lavinia wept on, longing to feel his arms about her, ready to consent toanything if only he would show that he loved her. But when he made nomovement towards her, pride came back, and flicking her handkerchiefacross her eyes, she rose to her feet.
"You are cruel!--cruel!--cruel! If you do this thing I _shall_ leaveyou!"
Now surely he would say something--contradict her!
With an immense effort, Richard controlled himself.
"I am--sorry--Lavinia," he said in a queer, constrained voice.
It was of no avail. She had killed his love, and he was longing to berid of her. She walked to the door, and turned.
"I see that you do not love me," she said, with deadly calmness. "Iunderstand perfectly." Then, as she wrenched the handle round: "I hateyou!" she cried, and fled, her silken skirts rustling furiously down thecorridor. A door slammed in the distance, and there was silence.
Carstares stood very still, staring down at her crumpled broidery.Presently he stooped to pick it up, and her violet scent was wafted upto him. He carried it to his lips, passionately.
If Lavinia had been able to see him, it would have changed the wholestate of affairs; as it was she locked herself into her room andcontinued her cry in private. When she had no more tears to shed, shesat up and tried to think that she wanted to elope. Harold would be verygood to her, she was sure, and she would doubtless lead a very excitinglife, but--somehow the more she thought of it, the less she wanted toelope. Then she remembered that Dicky--why had she never realised howmuch she cared for him?--was in love with some horrid widow, and did notwant her to remain with him. The idea was not to be borne, she was notgoing to be the unwanted wife. She would have to go away, though notwith Lovelace. Dicky should _not_ force her to elope with another man.She would go somewhere alone--she had forgotten--she had no money. Thedowry that had been hers was spent years ago. She was utterly dependenton her husband. That settled it: she _must_ elope with Harry!
"Oh, was anyone ever so beset!" she sobbed as her misery swept in uponher with full force. "Why should I run away if I don't want to?"