CHAPTER III
FIRST SEQUEL TO DEFIANCE
"He began to love her so soon, as he perceived that she was passing out of his control."
JANE AUSTEN.
I
Next morning Rachel wrote the following letter to Francis Breton:
"DEAR MR. BRETON,
It was good of you to write to me and I must apologize for allowing your letter to remain so long unanswered, but, on my return from abroad, there were naturally a great many things to do and a great many people to see.
My husband and I enjoyed our time abroad immensely: it was my first visit to Greece and Italy and I loved every bit of it--Athens is to me more wonderful than now, here so snugly in England, seems possible; Florence and Rome very beautiful of course but spoilt, don't you think, by tourists and the modern Italian who has learnt American habits--
How is London? I've not yet had a good look at it since I came back, but we shall be coming up soon, I expect, and have taken a flat in Elliston Square, between Portland Place and Byranston Square.
Your letter sounds a little dismal; it is kind of you to say that I can help you, but, indeed, if writing to me helps do so. It is only fair to say that at present my husband shares the family point of view and, so long as that is so, I cannot ask you to come and see me, but I hope that soon he will see the whole affair more sensibly.
Yours very sincerely,
RACHEL SEDDON."
She was not proud of this letter when she read it. She whose impulse wasfor truth seemed to be flung, at every turn, into direct dishonesty. No,she would not seize on the excuse of some vague tyrannical fate.
She was herself her own agent in this affair and she bitterly, from herheart, condemned herself ... and yet, strangely, this letter to Bretonseemed, in obedience to some inward impulse, her most honest actionsince her marriage.
Yet why did she not go to Roddy now and say to him that she had writtento Breton and was determined to act as his friend?
Roddy would forbid any further relationship; she knew that. And then?...
No, she could not see beyond--
She banished the letter from her mind, saw the two of them off to Hawes,and entertained Miss Crale to luncheon. Miss Crale was a broad andshapeless old maid with huge boots, a bass voice and a moustache. Shewas behind most of the charitable affairs in the county, was populareverywhere, and the most energetic character Rachel had ever met--
Rachel liked her and she liked Rachel, and after she had departed,breathless and red-faced, on some further visit concerned with somefurther charity, Rachel felt braced and invigorated and happier than shehad been for many weeks.
It was a day of frosted blue and the sun flashed fire on to the greatfield of snow that stretched from sky to sky. The Downs lay humpedagainst the blue and the whole world was frozen into silence.
The only sounds were the soft stir the snow, falling from branches orwalls, made and the sharp cries of some children playing in a field nearat hand.
When Miss Crale had gone Rachel went off for a walk. Jacob was with her.She struck up the winding path on to the Downs. The snow was hard andyielded a pleasant friendly crunch beneath her feet. Shadows that weredark and yet were filled with colour lay across the snow; beneath her awhite valley against which trees and buildings seemed little wooden toysand, in the far distance, hills rising, cut, with their iridescent glow,the blue sky.
No clouds; no movement; no sound: and soon the sun would be golden andthen hard and red, and then across all the snow pink shadows would creepand the evening stars would burn--
In the heart of the snow, a valley between the shoulders of the Downs, ablack clump of trees clustered; she could see, now, Seddon Court like agrey box at her feet, very tiny and breathing rest and peace.
Some of her trouble slipped from her under this clear sky and in thissharp air; from these quiet hills she saw all her introspection as anevil thing, morbid, cowardly; from here it seemed to her that hertrouble with Roddy had been because he did not know what introspectionmeant and could not understand the appeals that she made to him.
But was it not unfair that men should have so many things that couldtake the place of love? For Roddy there were a thousand emotions to givemeaning to life: for Rachel all experience seemed to come to her onlythrough people and her relations with people.
Soon the valley and the little toy houses were behind her and she hadonly the white rise and fall of the hill on every side. Dropped into ahollow was a little dark deserted house with bare trees about it;otherwise there was no dwelling-place to be seen.
This absence of human life suddenly drew up before her, as sharply andwith as living an actuality as though some mirage had cast itthere--London--
Three months in the country had flung the London that she knew into avivid perspective that was quite novel to her. By the London that sheknew she did not mean the London of parties and theatre, the London ofNita and her kind, but rather the actual London of the streets andsquares and fountain and parks and dusty plane trees and tinklingorgan-grinders.
She felt now quite a thrill of excitement to think that, in another weekor two, she would be back in it all and would see all the lamps comingout and the jingling cabs and the heavy lumbering omnibuses, and thatshe would hear again the sharp crying of the newspaper boys and theringing of church bells and the thud of the horses down the Row and thehum of voices above the orchestra during the intervals of some play.
She thought of Portland Place and the park and the Round Church and thelittle shops and Oxford Circus and the buses tumbling down Regent Streetinto Piccadilly and then tumbling down again into Pall Mall. FromPortland Place she seemed to look down over the whole of London and tosee it like a jewel, with its glow dazzling the night sky--
She knew now that although she hated her grandmother she did not hatethe Portland Place house and she was glad that Roddy had taken a flatnear there. No other part of London would ever be quite the same to heras that was: it would always be home to her more than any other place inthe world, with its space and air and sense of life crowding around it.
And, as she walked, she was fired with the desire to have some realactive share in the London life; not in the sham life of pleasure andentertainment, but to be working, as all kinds of men must be working,with London behind them, influencing them, sometimes depressing them,sometimes exalting them, always moving within them.
That was a fine ambition to work towards a greater London, a greater,finer, truer world, and whether you were politician or artist orjournalist or merchant or novelist or clerk or philanthropist, still byyour working honestly you would deserve your place in that company.
If she could have some share in such things, then her miserable doubtsand forebodings would vanish in a vision too bright and glorious tocontain them--
As she walked her face glowed and her body moved as though it couldcontinue thus, swinging through the clear air, for all time.
She determined that on this very evening she would tell Roddy aboutBreton. Whatever might be the result life in the future should be clearof Beaminster confusions. She would even ask Roddy to help her aboutBreton, to influence, perhaps, her grandmother with regard to him--
Then, in a few days, Nita Raseley would be gone, and, afterwards, shewould discipline all her wit and energy towards establishing a finerelationship with Roddy.
Something had, throughout all these months, been wrong; she woulddiscover where that wrong lay--She would curb her own impatience, wouldfling herself into his interests, would learn the things that Roddywanted from her and give them to him--
Then, as the sun sank lower and the yellow shadows crept up the sky, shefelt desolate and lonely. Vigour left her--She had descended now intothe valley and had come to the deserted house with the stark frowningtrees. This place, she had heard, had in the eighteenth century been aprivate mad-house, and now behind its darken
ed windows she could havefancied shapes and down the wind the echo of voices.
She fought with all her might against a great tide of loneliness thatwas now sweeping up about her. There had always been so many peoplearound her and yet she had always been lonely. Even May and Dr.Christopher had not helped her there. She had a sense now of all thepeople in all the world who were waiting for the other people who couldunderstand them; they were always missing one another, so nearsometimes, sometimes touching, and then, after all, going through lifealone.
Those were the people with feelings and emotions--and as for the peoplewithout them, of what use was life to _them_?
Either way, except for the fortunate way, Life was a futile business.
Then, climbing up from that sinister little valley and seeing that thesky had turned to violet and that the evening star was there burning asshe had known that it would, she laughed at her morbidity.
She shook herself free from it, thought once more of the things that shewould do with Roddy, thought of London and the fun that she would havethere, thought of Christopher and Uncle John and even Aunt Adela; then,as she turned down the little crooked path towards the house, shethought again of her cousin; she would work without ceasing to bring himback into the family.
That, at any rate, was work upon which she might commence on her returnto London, and as she clicked the little wicket-gate, a side-entrance tothe garden, behind her, she was almost happy again.
The dusk was deepening into darkness, the moon had not yet risen abovethe hill. She had entered the garden on the further side of the houseand passed through a long laurel path, her feet silenced by the snow.
Jacob had stayed, some way behind. She could see the white lawn andbeyond it the lighted house; she was about to step out of the darkshadow of the laurels when she found, just in front of her, almosttouching her, hidden by the black depth of the trees, two figures.
She was upon them with a startled cry. A man had his arms about a woman;bending back a little he had pulled her forward against him and waskissing her so fiercely that her hands were buried deep in his coat tosteady herself.
Rachel knew them instantly; they were her husband and Nita Raseley--
She stepped past them on to the lawn and at that instant they wereconscious of her--
Then she walked swiftly into the house.
II
She went up to her bedroom. No thought came to her, her mind was blank,but she noticed little things, put some of the silver things on herdressing-table in order, pulled her blind a little lower, moved to thefire and pushed the logs into a blaze. She sat there for a long, longtime.
When the dressing-bell echoed through the rooms she was still sittingthere, thinking nothing--
Her maid came to her; she told her the dress that she would wear andafter a while sat staring into her mirror whilst her hair was brushed.
Lucy said, "The snow's begun again, my lady. Coming down fast----"
Then some absence of light in her mistress's eyes frightened her and shesaid no more.
Someone knocked on the door: a note for her ladyship. Rachel read it:
"It was all a horrible, _horrible_ mistake. Darling Rachel, you _know_ it was only fun--just nothing at all. Shall I come and explain? If you'd rather not see me just now say so and I shall _quite_ understand. I've been so upset that I think I won't come down to dinner, if it isn't _too_ much bother having just a little sent up to me. It was all _such_ a silly mistake, as you'll see when we've explained.
Your loving
NITA."
When she came to "we" Rachel coloured a little. Then she said, "Lucy,bring me the local railway-guide. In my writing-room."
Lucy brought it to her. Then she wrote:
"DEAR NITA,
No explanations necessary. There is a good train up to town from Hawes at 9.30 to-morrow morning.
Yours,
RACHEL SEDDON."
"I want this taken to Miss Raseley, Lucy--now. She's not very well, soask Haddon to see that dinner is sent up to her room, please."
Then she finished dressing and went down to Roddy.
III
He had perhaps expected that she would not come down, but there was noopportunity given them for speech because the butler announcing dinnerfollowed her into the library. They went in.
He sat opposite her, looking ashamed, with his eyes lowered, and the redcoming and going in his sunburned cheeks.
They talked for the sake of the servants, and she asked him whetherHawes had been as lovely as ever and whether Lady Rockington's nerveswere better, and how their youngest boy (delicate from his birth) wasnow.
Whilst she spoke her brain was turning, turning like a wheel; could sheonly, for five minutes, think clearly, then might much after disaster beavoided. She knew that in the conversation that was to come Roddy wouldfollow her lead and that it would be she who would be responsible forall consequences.
She knew that and yet she could not force her brain to be clear norforesee what the end of it all was to be.
The dessert and the wine came at last and she went--
"I'll be in the library, Roddy," she said.
He gave her a quarter of an hour, and in that pause, with the housequite silent all about her and the fire crackling and the lights softlyshining, she strove to discipline her mind.
She had known as soon as she had seen them there that the most awfulelement in it was that this had in no way altered the earlier case--itmerely precipitated a crisis and demanded a definition. Nothing couldhave proved to her that she had never loved Roddy so much as her ownfeeling at this crisis towards him. Therein lay her own sin.
It was simply now of the future that she must think. The awful chasmthat might divide them after this night, were not their words mostcarefully ordered, shook her with fear; peril to herself, for she couldstand aside and see herself quite clearly: and she knew that if to-nightshe and he were to say things that they could neither of them afterwardsforget, then, for herself, and from her deep need of love and affection,there was temptation awaiting her that no disguise could cover.
Then, as more clearly she figured the scene in the garden, patienceseemed difficult to command.
She hated Nita Raseley--that was no matter--but she despised Roddy, andwere he once to-night to see that contempt she knew that his afterremembrance of it would divide them more completely than anything elsecould do.
When he came in she had still no clearer idea of what she intended tosay, or how she wished things to go. She was sitting in an arm-chair bythe fire with her hands shielding her face, and he sat down opposite herand stared at her and cleared his throat and wished that she would takeher hands down and then finally plunged:
"Rachel--I don't know--I can't--hang it all, what _can_ I say? I've beena beastly cad and I'd cut my right hand off to have prevented ithappening----"
She took her hand down and turned towards him--
"Let's cut all the recrimination part, Roddy," she said. "It was veryunfortunate--that was all. It was rather beastly of you, and as forNita----"
Here he broke in--"No, I say, you mustn't say anythin' about her. Shewasn't a little bit to blame--It just----"
"Well, we'll leave Nita. She isn't of any importance, anyway. The pointis that things have been wrong for months between us, and as we haven'tbeen married very long that's a pity. This has just brought things to ahead, that's all----"
"No," said Roddy firmly. "No, Rachel, that ain't fair to Nita. I know itisn't nice, but I must put that out fair and square--fair and square toNita.
"We'd had a jolly old drive to Hawes--rippin' day, cold as anythin',with the horse just spankin' along, and then the Rockingtons were jollyand the lunch was jolly and back we came. We looked about the house foryou and heard you were still out walkin', so we just strolled about thegarden a bit and then--Well, anyway, Nita simply had nothin' to do withit. It was so rippin' and jolly after the drive and all, that
I justkissed her. All in a second I just felt I had to ... beastly weak ofme," he finally added in a contemplative tone.
"Well, that disposes of Nita," said Rachel. "Don't let's mention heragain. Meanwhile what sort of life am I going to have if 'things' aregoing to sweep over you like this continually? Besides, it's ratherearly days, isn't it? We haven't been married half a year yet."
"No," said Roddy slowly, "no, we haven't and it's simply beastly. I'm aperfect swine. When I married you the one thing I meant to do was to bejust as kind to you as I jolly well could be, and give you a perfectlyrippin' time, and here I am hurtin' you like anything----"
She moved impatiently. "Never mind that, Roddy. You _have_ been verykind and I'm sure you'd have given anything for me not to have come intothe garden just when I did, so as to have avoided hurting me. But what Ido know is that you're not straight with me. You know I told you beforewe were married that the one thing that mattered was Truth--truth tooneself and truth to everyone else--Well, we haven't been straight withone another for a single instant. You've done any number of things thatwould be wrong to you if I knew about them, but wouldn't be in the leastwrong if I didn't."
"Of course," said Roddy, "no feller tells his wife everything--thatwould be absurd. I think things are worse if people know about 'em whomit hurts to know--_much_ worse."
She was suddenly confronted now with a Roddy whose assurance andconfidence in his own personality startled her. Because he had neverbeen gifted with words and liked to be in the company of dogs and horsesshe had fancied that he had no ideas about anything.
Rachel was a great deal younger than she knew and a great deal morecontemptuous of the other half world than her experience of itjustified. Strangely enough this confidence on Roddy's part angered hermore than anything else could have done.
"The fact is that since our marriage we've never got to know each otherin the least. We talk and go to places together and you give me thingsand I give you things--and that's all. I don't know you and now, afterto-day, I can't trust you----"
He coloured a little at that, but said nothing.
She went on, rather fast and her breath coming between her words: "ButI'm not going to be so silly as to make a scene because I saw youkissing Nita Raseley. She's simply not worth thinking about,--but youought to be straighter to me all the way round. If you've wanted to bekind to me as you say, then you might have taken me more into yourlife----"
"Well," said Roddy slowly, "if you'd managed to love me a bit, Rachel,things might be different."
This answer was so utterly unexpected that it took her like a blow. ThatRoddy should attack _her_ when he had, only a few hours before, beendiscovered so abominably!
"What do you mean, Roddy?" she stammered angrily. "Love you? But----"
"Yes," he persisted doggedly, "I know when you accepted me you said youdidn't and I know that I hadn't any right to expect it, but I believe ifyou hadn't thought me such a silly ass and hadn't looked all the time asthough you were just indulgin' my silly fancies until somethin' moresensible had come along, things might have been different. I'm the sortof feller," Roddy said, choosing his words carefully, "that you couldhave made anythin' out of, Rachel. I'm weak in some ways--most menare--and when a thing comes dancin' along lookin' ever so temptin', why,then I generally have to go after it. But you could have kept me,Rachel, more than anyone I've ever known----"
She was not touched nor moved, only angered that he, so obviously in thewrong, should attempt justification.
"Yes," she said hotly. "And I suppose in another moment you'll betelling me that it's silly of me to be angry at what I saw thisafternoon?"
He thought it out a moment, then answered: "No, it was perfectly naturalof course--only I don't think you ought to mind much. If you reallycared, you wouldn't. It don't matter _really_ so much what I do if Istill like you best. Moments don't count--it's what goes on all the timethat matters. Why, I might kiss a hundred women and still you'd be theonly woman who mattered to me. I've never cared for one so long before,"he added simply.
Then as she said nothing he went on: "I've never been sort ofeducated--never cared enough for anyone to give things up. I would havegiven things up for you if you'd wanted me to, but you didn'treally----"
"Aren't we a little off the point, Roddy?" she flung back. "The point ishow are we going to get along all the years and years we've got in frontof us? What are we going to do?"
"Everybody's just the same," said Roddy quietly. "It takes a lot ofyears before married people settle down. We can't expect to be anydifferent----"
But although he spoke so quietly he watched her, hoping for someyielding on her part; in an instant, had she come to him, she would haveseen a Roddy whom she had never seen before and from that moment onwardswould have had a power over him that nothing could have shaken.
So delicately hung the balance between them. But she was filled with asense of her own wrongs, her loneliness, the injustice of it all. Atthat moment all affection for Roddy had left her, she would only havebeen glad if she had known that she was never to see him again. His slowvoice, his way of thinking out his sentences, his thick clumsy hands andhis red face, everything came to her now as a continuation of the chainsthat she had worn all her days.
She got up and confronted him--
"Yes," she said fiercely, "that's exactly it. Life is to be likeeveryone else. We're to say the things, do the things that ourneighbours say and do. Because your friends at Brooks's kiss theirwives' friends, therefore you are to do so. Because the men you knownever say what they mean and lie about everything they do, therefore youdo the same. Oh! I know! Haven't I heard it all my life? Haven't myprecious family lived on lies? You've caught it all from my delightfulgrandmother! I congratulate you!"
"What if I have?" he said. "She's a friend of mine, Rachel. She's beendashed good to me--You're not to say a word against her."
"I hate her," Rachel cried passionately. "All my life she's been overme--for years she's been my enemy. If she stands for everything that youbelieve, then it isn't any wonder that we have nothing in common, thatyou should be proud of this afternoon, that--that----"
She was biting her lips to keep back the tears. Over his face had crepta sulky obstinate look that might have told her, had she seen it, thatshe was driving him very far.
"She's fine," he said. "She's made England what it is. You're all forideas, Rachel, and for Truth and lots of things, but you're difficult tolive with."
"Very well, Roddy. Thank you. Now we know how we stand. I at least oweNita a debt for having cleared up the situation. If you find itdifficult with me I can at least return the compliment--and I have atany rate this added advantage, that I speak the truth."
As he looked at her across the room he saw in her that same figure thathe'd seen once just before proposing to her--someone foreign,unknown--He felt as though he were quarrelling with a stranger....
She turned and went.
For a long while he stood gazing into the fire, his hands in hispockets. How had it all happened? Why had they let it come to that kindof quarrel when they might so easily have prevented it?
And she, crying bitterly in her room, asked herself the same question.