CHAPTER XXIII
Two of the occupants of the carriages that Rendel had seen going rapidlyalong the road knew the meaning of the scene that had taken place undertheir eyes; the others were in a state of simmering curiosity.
"I should be glad," said Stamfordham, as they approached Schleppenheim,"if nothing could be said about what happened."
He was sitting opposite to Lady Chaloner and Lady Adela in a landau.There was no need, of course, to explain to what he was referring.
"Of course, of course," said Lady Chaloner, not quite knowing what tosay.
In the meantime Wentworth had got back, had been to see Rachel, and hadtold her that Rendel was going to extend his walk a little further andthat he would be back without fail in time for dinner. He himself, headded, had been obliged to come back for an engagement. Rachel acceptedquite placidly the fact that her husband would return later than sheexpected; she thanked Wentworth with the same sweet smile of old, askedwhere they had been, said the woods must have been delightful. Then,feeling that he could do nothing, Wentworth, with some misgiving, lefther.
Rachel still felt the languor which succeeds illness,--not an unpleasantcondition when there is no call for activity,--a physical languor whichmade her quite content to sit or lie out of doors most of the day,sometimes walk a little way, and then come back to rest again. She hadaccepted Rendel's unceasing solicitude for her with love and gratitude,she clung to his presence more than ever now that both her parents beinggone she felt herself entirely alone: but for the rest she was strangelycontent to let the days go by in a sort of luxury of sorrow, while sherecalled the happy time passed with those other two beloved ones who hadmade up her life. But there was no bitterness in the recollection; therewas a sort of tender mystery over it still. At times she felt as ifthere were something more; she had some dim, confused recollection ofher husband being connected with it all, and with Gore's illness; how,she could not remember. And she did not try. Deep down in her mind wasthe feeling that with a great effort it might all come back to her; butshe shrank from making the effort.
After Wentworth left her, it had occurred to her that, since Rendel wasnot coming back again, she would venture outside the limits of theirgarden and go to where the band was playing. She did not at all realisewhat the surroundings of that band would be. The kind of life that shehad led before, when they had come abroad with Lady Gore, had not beenthe sort of existence reigning at Schleppenheim. She strolled out,feeling that everything was very strange and new, in the direction ofthe music, following without knowing it a path which brought her intothe very middle of the promenade into the centre of a gaily dressedthrong of people, somewhat bewildering to one accustomed to pass all herdays in solitude. Shrinking back a little she turned out of the stream,and, finding an unoccupied chair under a tree, sat down, looking timidlyabout her. Then finding that no one was paying any attention to her, orappeared to be conscious of the fact that she was venturing out alone,she gradually became amused at watching all that was going on round her.Presently two well-dressed women she did not know, an older and ayounger one, Lady Chaloner and Lady Adela Prestige in fact, on their wayto their bazaar, came along deep in talk, the older one stopping tospeak with some emphasis whenever the interest of the conversationdemanded it. One of these halts was made close by Rachel.
"I should like to know what it was," Lady Adela was saying.
"You may depend upon it," said Lady Chaloner, "that it was somethingvery bad. He is not the man to do that sort of thing for nothing."
"I am quite sure of it," Lady Adela replied, with a little tremor ofexcitement. "One can't help feeling that it's something really bad; thatit was not only that he had run away with his neighbour's wife orsomething of that kind. He must have done something that can't becondoned."
"I am sure of it," Lady Chaloner said seriously. "There is no doubtabout that."
"Poor creature!" said Lady Adela. "Didn't he look awful?"
"Perfectly fearful!" said Lady Chaloner. "He looked like the villain ina play, who is found out--the man who has cheated at cards, or somethingof that sort."
"Perhaps that was it."
"I daresay," said Lady Chaloner. "I wonder if he has been playingBridge?"
"Dear me, I wish I knew!" said Lady Adela.
This sounded very interesting, Rachel thought--exactly the kind of thingthat happened in books at smart watering-places.
"Ah, there is Maddy," said Lady Adela. "I do wonder what she thought."
"By the way," said Lady Chaloner, "we must tell her not to say anythingabout it."
But the Princess had driven back in the company of M. de Moricourt andMr. Marchmont, and had, therefore, not heard the warning given byStamfordham to his companions in the other landau.
"Well," said the Princess eagerly, coming up to the others, "what didyou think of that? Wasn't it amazing?"
"Yes," said Lady Adela. "What do you think it was, Maddy?"
"Something awful, you may depend upon it," said the Princess; "and I amsure little Marchmont knows. We tried to make him tell us on the wayback, but he wouldn't. But I gathered somehow that Lord Stamfordhamcouldn't have done anything else."
Lord Stamfordham! Did they say Stamfordham? Rachel thought to herselfwonderingly. Was he here? And she had some kind of queer, puzzledfeeling that he was connected in her mind with something that hadhappened lately. What was it?
"And Pateley doesn't know anything about it either," said the Princess."I met him just now and asked him."
"Did you?" said Lady Chaloner. "I don't think you ought to have donethat. I was going to tell you that Stamfordham said it was not to bementioned."
"Did he?" said the Princess, somewhat taken aback. "I asked Mr. Pateleybecause I thought he would be sure to know. But I made him promise notto tell anybody."
"I believe he did know, though," said Moricourt, who, though he spokehis own language, understood perfectly everything that was said inEnglish. "I wonder what the quiet and charming wife that Wentworthadmires so much thinks?"
"Poor thing!" said Lady Chaloner gravely.
"By the way," said Lady Adela with a sudden idea, "Wentworth was withhim. Wentworth must know all about it, of course. He is sure to come tothe bazaar. We'll ask him."
"Wentworth was with him?" said Rachel to herself with an involuntarymovement, rising from her seat. Of whom were they speaking? What was itall about? She was unconscious that she was standing scrutinising thefaces of the group near her as though trying to gather from them whattheir words might mean. They, deep in their conversation, did not noticeher. Then, with a feeling of extraordinary relief--she hardly knewwhy--she saw a familiar, substantial person coming along the promenadewith a sort of friendly swagger. She went forward to meet him, stillfeeling as though she were walking in her sleep.
"Mrs. Rendel!" said Pateley in his usual hearty tone, in which there wasnow an inflection of surprise and almost of anxiety.
Pateley had not met either of the Rendels since the day of his lastinterview with Sir William Gore, and he had carefully not investigatedfurther the incident which had been of such great advantage to himself.But in the last half-hour, since, under the seal of profound secrecy, ithad been confided to him what had happened at the luncheon, and he hadbeen anxiously asked what was the cloud hanging over Rendel, he hadpieced things together in a way which brought him pretty near the truth.It was beginning to be clear to him that Stamfordham had somehow visitedupon Rendel the treachery into which he himself had practically ledGore. Stamfordham had asked Pateley at the time of the disclosure howthe _Arbiter_ had become possessed of the information. Pateley hadapologetically declined to give an explanation. But the ardent supportgiven by the _Arbiter_ to Stamfordham's action in the matter and to allhis subsequent policy had made it tolerably certain that Stamfordhamwould not bear him much malice. And, as a matter of fact, the wholeaffair had added to Stamfordham's reputation. The masterly way in whichhe had caught up the situation and dealt with it after the prematuredisclosure
of the Agreement had added a fresh laurel to his crown.
As Pateley uttered the words, "Mrs. Rendel," the whole of the group whowere standing near turned with a common impulse as if a thunderbolt hadfallen into their midst, and he grasped at once that they had beentalking within earshot of her of something she ought not to have heard.Lady Adela was the first to recover her presence of mind.
"Come," she said; "we must go and take our places. I mean to have sometea if we can get it before the opening," and she made a move in whichthe others joined.
Pateley, remaining by Rachel, lifted his hat to them as they strolledaway. "How long have you been at Schleppenheim?" he asked. "I had noidea you were here."
"We have been here," said Rachel--"let me see--about a week."
She looked anxious and disturbed.
"And where are you staying?" said Pateley.
"In the little pavilion behind the Hotel de Londres," and she pointed.
"Charming place," said Pateley. "And how is your husband?"
"He is very well, thank you," said Rachel. "He has been out for a longwalk to-day; he went for an expedition to the woods with Mr. Wentworth."
And she looked as if something else that she did not say were on the tipof her tongue.
"It must have been delightful in the woods to-day," said Pateley, hardlyknowing what he answered. He also was preoccupied by the story he hadheard and wondering how much she knew of it. "Are you going home now?"he said, as Rachel turned away from the promenade in the direction shehad pointed out.
"I think so. I am a little tired," said Rachel, holding out her hand.
"May I come and see you?" Pateley said.
"Please do," said Rachel.
"I certainly shall," Pateley said. "It will be delightful to get awayfor a little while from this seething mass of humanity."
And he again gave one of his loud laughs as he also went towards thetent, to plunge with the greatest zest into the seething mass whosecompany he had been contemning.