CHAPTER XVI
THE WARNING
"Going away to-morrow, are you?" said Ina Rose, in her cool young voice."I hope you'll enjoy it."
"Thanks!" said Piers. "No doubt I shall."
He spoke with his eyes on the dainty lace fan he had taken from her.
Ina frankly studied his face. She had always found Piers Eveshaminteresting.
"I should be wild if I were in your place," she remarked, after a moment.
He shrugged his shoulders, and his brown face slightly smiled. "Becauseof the hunting?" he said, and turned his eyes upon her fresh, girlishface. "But there's always next year, what?"
"Good gracious!" said Ina. "You talk as if you were older than yourgrandfather. It wouldn't comfort me in the least to think of nextseason's hunting. And I don't believe it does you either. You are onlyputting it on."
"All right!" said Piers. His eyes dwelt upon her with a species ofmocking homage that yet in a fashion subtly flattered. He always knew howto please Ina Rose, though not always did he take the trouble. "Let ussay--for the sake of argument--that I am quite inconsolable. It doesn'tmatter to anyone, does it?"
"I don't know why you should say that," said Ina. "It ought tomatter--anyhow to your grandfather. Why don't you make him go byhimself?"
Piers laughed a careless laugh, still boldly watching her. "That wouldn'tbe very dutiful of me, would it?" he said.
"I suppose you're not afraid of him?" said Ina, who knew not the meaningof the word.
"Why should you suppose that?" said Piers.
She met his look in momentary surprise. "To judge by the way you behavedthe other day, I should say you were not."
Piers frowned. "Which day?"
Ina explained without embarrassment. "The day that girl held up the wholeHunt in Holland's meadow. My word, Piers, how furious the old man was!Does he often behave like that?"
Piers still frowned. His fingers were working restlessly at the ivorysticks of her fan. "If you mean, does he often thrash me with ahorsewhip, no, he doesn't," he said shortly. "And he wouldn't have doneit then if I'd had a hand to spare. I'm glad you enjoyed the spectacle.Hope you were all edified."
"You needn't be waxy," said Ina calmly. "I assure you, you never showedto greater advantage. I hope your lady friend was duly grateful to herdeliverer. I rather liked her pluck, Piers. Who is she?"
There was a sudden crack between Piers' fingers. He looked down hastily,and in a moment displayed three broken ivory fan-sticks to the girlbeside him. "I'm horribly sorry, Ina," he said.
Ina looked at the damage, and from it to his face of contrition. "You didit on purpose," she said.
"I did not," said Piers.
"You're very rude," she rejoined.
"No, I'm not," he protested. "I'm sorry. I hope you didn't value it forany particular reason. I'll send you another from Paris."
She spurned the broken thing with a careless gesture. "Not you! You'd beafraid to."
Piers' brows went up. "Afraid?"
"Of your grandfather," she said, with a derisive smile. "If he caught yousending anything to me--or to the lady of the meadow--" she pausedeloquently.
Piers looked grim. "Of course I shall send you a fan if you'llaccept it."
"How nice of you!" said Ina. "Wouldn't you like to send something forher in the same parcel? I'll deliver it for you--if you'll tell me thelady's address."
Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she made the suggestion. Piers frownedyet a moment longer, then laughed back with abrupt friendliness.
"Thanks awfully! But I won't trouble you. It's decent of you not to beangry over this. I'll get you a ripping one to make up."
Ina nodded. "That'll be quite amusing. Everyone will think that you'rereally in earnest at last. Poor Dick will be furious when he knows."
"You'll probably console him pretty soon," returned Piers.
"Think so?" Ina's eyes narrowed a little; she looked at Piersspeculatively. "That's what you want to believe, is it?"
"I? Of course not!" Piers laughed again. "I never wished any girlengaged yet."
"Save one," suggested Ina, and an odd little gleam hovered behindher lashes with the words. "Why won't you tell me her name? Youmight as well."
"Why?" said Piers.
"I shall find it out in any case," she assured him. "I know already thatshe dwells under the Vicar's virtuous roof, and that the worthy Dr. Tudorfinds it necessary to drop in every day. I suppose she is thenurse-cook-housekeeper of that establishment."
"I say, how clever of you!" said Piers.
The girl laughed carelessly. "Isn't it? I've studied her in church--andyou too, my cavalier. I don't believe you have ever attended so regularlybefore, have you? Did she ever tell you her age?"
"Never," said Piers.
"I wonder," said Ina coolly. And then rather suddenly she rose. "Piers,if I'm a prying cat, you're a hard-mouthed mule! There! Why can't youadmit that you're in love with her?"
Piers faced her with no sign of surprise. "Why don't you tell me thatyou're in love with Guyes?" he said.
"Because it wouldn't be true!" She flung back her answer with a laughthat sounded unaccountably bitter. "I have yet to meet the man who isworth the trouble."
"Oh, really!" said Piers. "Don't flatter us more than you need! I'm sorryfor Guyes myself. If he weren't so keen on you, it's my belief you'd likehim better."
"Oh no, I shouldn't!" Ina spoke with a touch of scorn. "I shouldn't likehim either less or more, whatever he did. I couldn't. But of course he'sextremely eligible, isn't he?"
"Does that count with you?" said Piers curiously.
She looked at him. "It doesn't with you of course?" she said.
"Not in the least," he returned with emphasis.
She laughed again, and pushed the remnants of her fan with her foot. "Itwouldn't. You're so charmingly young and romantic. Well, mind the doctordoesn't cut you out in your absence! He would be a much more suitable_parti_ for her, you know, both as to age and station. Shall we go backto the ball-room now? I am engaged to Dick for the next dance. I mustn'tcut him in his own house."
It was an annual affair but quite informal--this Boxing Night dance atthe Guyes'. Dick himself called it a survival of his schoolboy days, andit was always referred to in the neighbourhood as "Dick's Christmasparty." He and his mother would no more have dreamed of discontinuing thefestivity than of foregoing their Christmas dinner, and the Roses ofWardenhurst were invariably invited and as invariably attended it. Pierswas not so constant a guest. Dick had thrown him an open invitation onthe hunting-field a day or two before, and Piers, having nothing betterto do, had decided to present himself.
He liked dancing, and was easily the best dancer among the men. He alsoliked Ina Rose, or at least she had always thought so, till that night.They were friends of the hunting-field rather than of the drawing-room,but they always drifted together wherever they met. Sir Beverley hadnever troubled himself about the intimacy. The girl belonged to thecounty, and if not quite the brilliant match for Piers that he would havechosen, she came at least of good old English stock. He knew and likedher father, and he would not have made any very strenuous opposition toan alliance between the two. The girl was well bred and heiress to theColonel's estate. She would have added considerably to Piers' importanceas a landowner, and she knew already how to hold up her head in society.Also, she led a wholesome, outdoor existence, and was not the sort ofgirl to play with a man's honour.
No, on the whole Sir Beverley had no serious objection to the prospect ofa marriage between them, save that he had no desire to see Piers marriedfor another five years at feast. But Ina could very well afford to waitfive years for such a prize as Piers. Meanwhile, if they cared to getengaged--it would keep the boy out of mischief, and there would be noharm in it.
So had run Sir Beverley's thoughts prior to the appearance of themother's help at the Vicarage. But she--the woman with the resolute mouthand grey, steadfast eyes--had upset all his calculations. It had notneeded L
ennox Tudor's hint to put him on his guard. He had known whitherthe boy's wayward fancy was tending before that. The scene in thehunting-field had been sufficient revelation for him, and had lentstrength to his arm and fury to his indignation.
Piers' decision to spend his last night in England at a dance had been asurprise to him, but then the boy had puzzled him a good many times oflate. He had even asked himself once or twice if it had been hisdeliberate intention to do so. But since it was absolutely certain thatthe schemer at the Vicarage would not be present at Dick Guyes' party,Sir Beverley did not see any urgent necessity for keeping his grandson athis side. He even hoped that Piers would enjoy himself though he deemedhim a fool to go.
And, to judge from appearances, Piers was enjoying himself. Having partedfrom Ina, he claimed for his partner his hostess,--a pretty, gracefulwoman who danced under protest, but so exquisitely that he would hardlybe persuaded to give her up when the dance was over.
He scarcely left the ball-room for the rest of the evening, and when theparty broke up he was among the last to leave. Dick ingenuously thankedhim for helping to make the affair a success. He was not feelingparticularly happy himself, since Ina had consistently snubbed himthroughout; but he did not hold Piers in any way responsible for herattitude. Dick's outlook on life was supremely simple. He never attemptedto comprehend the ways of women, being serenely content to regard them asbeyond his comprehension. He hoped and believed that one day Ina would bekind to him, but he was quite prepared to wait an indefinite time forthat day to dawn. He took all rebuffs with resignation, and couldgenerally muster a smile soon after.
He smiled tranquilly upon Piers at parting and congratulated him upon theprospect of missing the worst of the winter. To which Piers threw back alaugh as he drove away in his little two-seater, coupled with thecareless assurance that he meant to make the most of his time, whateverthe weather.
"Lucky dog!" said Guyes, as he watched him disappear down the drive.
But if he had seen the expression that succeeded Piers' laugh, he mighthave suppressed the remark. For Piers' face, as he raced alone throughthe darkness, was the set, grim face of a man who carries a deadlypurpose in his soul. He had laughed and danced throughout the evening,but in his first moment of solitude the devil he had kept at bay hadentered into full possession.
To the rush and throb of his engine, he heard over and over the gibing,malicious words of a girl's sore heart: "Mind the doctor doesn't cut youout in your absence!"
Obviously then this affair was the common talk of the neighbourhood sincenews of it had even penetrated to Wardenhurst. People were openlywatching the rivalry between Lennox Tudor and himself, watching andspeculating as to the result. And he, about to be ignominiously removedfrom the conflict by his grandfather, at Tudor's suggestion, had becomethe laughing-stock of the place. Piers' teeth nearly met in his lowerlip. Let them laugh! And let them chatter! He would give them ample foodfor amusement and gossip before he left.
He had yielded to his grandfather's desire because instinct had told himthat his absence just at that stage of his wooing would be morebeneficial than his presence. He was shrewd enough to realize that thehot blood in him was driving him too fast, urging him to a pace whichmight irreparably damage his cause. For that reason alone, he was readyto curb his fierce impetuosity. But to leave a free field for LennoxTudor was not a part of his plan. He had scarcely begun to regard the manin the light of a serious rival, although fully aware of the fact thatTudor was doing his utmost to remove him from his path. But if Inathought him so, he had probably underestimated the danger.
He had always detested Tudor very thoroughly. Piers never did anything byhalves, and the doctor's undisguised criticism of him never failed toarouse his fiercest resentment. That Tudor disliked him in return was afact that could scarcely escape the notice of the most careless observer.The two were plainly antipathetic, and were scarcely civil to one anothereven in public.
But that night Piers' antagonism flared to a deadly hatred. Thesmouldering fire had leaped to a fierce blaze. Two nights before he hadsmothered it with the exultant conviction that Tudor's chances with Averywere practically non-existent. He had known with absolute certainty thathe was not the type of man to attract her. But to-night his mood hadchanged. Whether Tudor's chances had improved or not, he scarcely stoppedto question, but that other people regarded them as possibly greater thanhis own was a fact that sent the mad blood to his head. He tore backthrough the winter night like a man possessed, with Ina Rose's scoffingwarning beating a devil's tattoo in his brain.