_Chapter Twelve_
AN EMBASSAGE
The Marchesa's last words to Lady Norah betrayed the state of her mind.While the question of the path was pending, she had been unable to thinkof anything else; until it was settled she could think of nobody exceptof the man in whose hands the settlement lay. Whether Lynboroughattracted or repelled, he at least occupied and filled her thoughts. Shehad come to recognize where she stood and to face the position.Stillford's steady pessimism left her no hope from an invocation of thelaw; Lynborough's dexterity and resource promised her no abidingvictory--at best only precarious temporary successes--in a privatecontinuance of the struggle. Worst of all--whilst she chafed or wept, helaughed! Certainly not to her critical friends, hardly even to her proudself, would she confess that she lay in her antagonist's mercy; but thefeeling of that was in her heart. If so, he could humiliate her sorely.
Could he spare her? Or would he? Try how she might, it was hard toperceive how he could spare her without abandoning his right. That shewas sure he would not do; all she heard of him, every sharp intuition ofhim which she had, the mere glimpse of his face as he passed by on SandyNab, told her that.
But if he consented to pay a small--a nominal--rent, would not her pridebe spared? No. That would be victory for him; she would be compelled tosurrender what she had haughtily refused, in return for something whichshe did not want and which was of no value. If that were a cloak for herpride, the fabric of it was terribly threadbare. Even such concession aslay in such an offer she had wrung from him by setting his friendsagainst him; would that incline him to tenderness? The offer might leavehis friends still unreconciled; what comfort was that to her when oncethe fight and the excitement of countering blow with blow weredone--when all was over? And it was more likely that what seemed to hercruel would seem to Stabb and Roger reasonable--men had a terribly rigidsense of reason in business matters. They would return to theirallegiance; her friends would be ranged on the same side; she would bealone--alone in humiliation and defeat. From that fate in the end onlyLynborough himself could rescue her; only the man who threatened herwith it could avert it. And how could even he, save by a surrender whichhe would not make? Yet if he found out a way?
The thought of that possibility--though she could devise or imagine nomeans by which it might find accomplishment--carried her towardLynborough in a rush of feeling. The idea--never wholly lost even in hermoments of anger and dejection--came back--the idea that all the time hehad been playing a game, that he did not want the wounds to be mortal,that in the end he did not hate. If he did not hate, he would not desireto hurt. But he desired to win. Could he win without hurting? Then therewas a reward for him--applause for his cleverness, and gratitude for hischivalry.
Stretching out her arms toward Scarsmoor Castle, she vowed thataccording to his deed she could hate or love Lord Lynborough. The nextday was to decide that weighty question.
The fateful morning arrived--the last day of the armistice--thetwenty-third. The ladies were sitting on the lawn after breakfast whenStillford came out of the house with a quick step and an excited air.
"Marchesa," he said, "the Embassy has arrived! Stabb and Wilbraham areat the front door, asking an audience of you. They bring the proposal!"
The Marchesa laid down her book; Miss Gilletson made no effort toconceal her agitation.
"Why didn't they come by the path?" cried Norah.
"They couldn't very well; Lynborough's sent them in a carriage--withpostilions and four horses," Stillford answered gravely. "Thepostilions appear to be amused, but the Ambassadors are exceedinglysolemn."
The Marchesa's spirits rose. If the piece were to be a comedy, she couldplay her part! The same idea was in Stillford's mind. "He can't mean tobe very unpleasant if he plays the fool like this," he said, lookinground on the company with a smile.
"Admit the Ambassadors!" cried the Marchesa gaily.
The Ambassadors were ushered on to the lawn. They advanced with agravity befitting the occasion, and bowed low to the Marchesa. Rogercarried a roll of paper of impressive dimensions. Stillford placedchairs for the Ambassadors and, at a sign from the Marchesa, they seatedthemselves.
"What is your message?" asked the Marchesa. Suddenly nervousness andfear laid hold of her again; her voice shook a little.
"We don't know," answered Stabb. "Give me the document, Roger."
Roger Wilbraham handed him the scroll.
"We are charged to deliver this to your Excellency's adviser, and to beghim to read it to you in our presence." He rose, delivered the scrollinto Stillford's hands, and returned, majestic in his bulk, to his seat.
"You neither of you know what's in it?" the Marchesa asked.
They shook their heads.
The Marchesa took hold of Norah's hand and said quietly, "Please read itto us, Mr. Stillford. I should like you all to hear."
"That was also Lord Lynborough's desire," said Roger Wilbraham.
Stillford unrolled the paper. It was all in Lynborough's ownhand--written large and with fair flourishes. In mockery of theinstitution he hated, he had cast it in a form which at all events aimedat being legal; too close scrutiny on that score perhaps it would notabide successfully.
"Silence while the document is read!" said Stillford; and he proceededto read it in a clear and deliberate voice:
"'Sir Ambrose Athelstan Caverly, Baronet, Baron Lynborough of Lynboroughin the County of Dorset and of Scarsmoor in the County of Yorkshire,unto her Excellency Helena Vittoria Maria Antonia, Marchesa di SanServolo, and unto All to whom these Presents Come, Greeting. Whereas thesaid Lord Lynborough and his predecessors in title have been everentitled as of right to pass and repass along the path called Beach Pathleading across the lands of Nab Grange from the road bounding the sameon the west to the seashore on the east thereof, and to use the saidpath by themselves, their agents and servants, at their pleasure,without let or interference from any person or persons whatsoever----'"
Stillford paused and looked at the Marchesa. The document did not beginin a conciliatory manner. It asserted the right to use Beach Path in themost uncompromising way.
"Go on," commanded the Marchesa, a little flushed, still holding Norah'shand.
"'And Whereas the said Lord Lynborough is desirous that his rights asabove defined shall receive the recognition of the said Marchesa, whichrecognition has hitherto been withheld and refused by the said Marchesa:And Whereas great and manifold troubles have arisen from such refusal:And Whereas the said Lord Lynborough is desirous of dwelling in peaceand amity with the said Marchesa----'"
"There, Helena, you see he is!" cried Norah triumphantly.
"I really must not be interrupted," Stillford protested. "'Now Thereforethe said Lord Lynborough, moved thereunto by divers considerations andin chief by his said desire to dwell in amity and good-will, doth engageand undertake that, in consideration of his receiving a full, gracious,and amicable recognition of his right from the said Marchesa, he shalland will, year by year and once a year, to wit on the Feast of St. JohnBaptist, also known as Midsummer Day----'"
"Why, that's to-morrow!" exclaimed Violet Dufaure.
Once more Stillford commanded silence. The Terms of Peace were not to berudely interrupted just as they were reaching the most interestingpoint. For up to now nothing had come except a renewed assertion ofLynborough's right!
"'That is to say the twenty-fourth day of June--repair in his own properperson, with or without attendants as shall seem to him good, to NabGrange or such other place as may then and on each occasion be the abodeand residence of the said Marchesa, and shall and will present himselfin the presence of the said Marchesa at noon. And that he then shall andwill do homage to the said Marchesa for such full, gracious, andamicable recognition as above mentioned by falling on his knee andkissing the hand of the said Marchesa. And if the said Lord Lynboroughshall wilfully or by neglect omit so to present himself and so to payhis homage on any such Feast of St. John Baptist, then his said rightshall be of no
effect and shall be suspended (And he hereby engages notto exercise the same) until he shall have purged his contempt or neglectby performing his homage on the next succeeding Feast. Provided Alwaysthat the said Marchesa shall and will, a sufficient time before the saidFeast in each year, apprise and inform the said Lord Lynborough of herintended place of residence, in default whereof the said Lord Lynboroughshall not be bound to pay his homage and shall suffer no diminution ofhis right by reason of the omission thereof. Provided Further andFinally that whensoever the said Lord Lynborough shall duly and on thedue date as in these Presents stipulated present himself at Nab Grangeor elsewhere the residence for the time being of the said Marchesa, andclaim to be admitted to the presence of the said Marchesa and toperform his homage as herein prescribed and ordered, the said Marchesashall not and will not, on any pretext or for any cause whatsoever, denyor refuse to accept the said homage so duly proffered, but shall andwill in all gracious condescension and neighborly friendship extend andgive her hand to the said Lord Lynborough, to the end and purpose that,he rendering and she accepting his homage in all mutual trust andhonorable confidence, Peace may reign between Nab Grange and ScarsmoorCastle so long as they both do stand. In Witness whereof the said LordLynborough has affixed his name on the Eve of the said Feast of St. JohnBaptist.
LYNBOROUGH.'"
Stillford ended his reading, and handed the scroll to the Marchesa witha bow. She took it and looked at Lynborough's signature. Her cheekswere flushed, and her lips struggled not to smile. The rest were silent.She looked at Stillford, who smiled back at her and drew from hispocket--a stylographic pen.
"Yes," she said, and took it.
She wrote below Lynborough's name:
"In Witness whereof, in a desire for peace and amity, in all mutualtrust and honorable confidence, the said Marchesa has affixed her nameon this same Eve of the said Feast of St. John Baptist.
HELENA DI SAN SERVOLO."
She handed it back to Stillford. "Let it dry in the beautiful sunlight,"she said.
The Ambassadors rose to their feet. She rose too and went over to Stabbwith outstretched hands. A broad smile spread over Stabb's spaciousface. "It's just like Ambrose," he said to her as he took her hands."He gets what he wants--but in the prettiest way!"
She answered him in a low voice: "A very knightly way of saving afoolish woman's pride." She raised her voice. "Bid Lord Lynborough--aye,Sir Ambrose Athelstan Caverly, Baron Lynborough, attend here at NabGrange to pay his homage to-morrow at noon." She looked round on themall, smiling now openly, the red in her cheeks all triumphant over herolive hue. "Say I will give him private audience to receive his homageand to ask his friendship." With that the Marchesa departed, somewhatsuddenly, into the house.
Amid much merriment and reciprocal congratulations the Ambassadors werehonorably escorted back to their coach and four.
"Keep your eye on the Castle to-night," Roger Wilbraham whispered toNorah as he pressed her hand.
They drove off, Stillford leading a gay "Hurrah!"
At night indeed Scarsmoor Castle was a sight to see. Every window of itsfront blazed with light; rockets and all manner of amazing brightdevices rose to heaven. All Fillby turned out to see the show; all NabGrange was in the garden looking on.
All save Helena herself. She had retreated to her own room; there shesat and watched alone. She was in a fever of feeling and could not rest.She twisted one hand round the other, she held up before her eyes thehand which was destined to receive homage on the morrow. Her eyes werebright, her cheeks flushed, her red lips trembled.
"Alas, how this man knows his way to my heart!" she sighed.
The blaze at Scarsmoor Castle died down. A kindly darkness fell. Underits friendly cover she kissed her hand to the Castle, murmuring"To-morrow!"