CHAPTER II
THE DUCHESS MOVES
"Fear of the loss of power has more to do with disasters in the history of nations than any other motive."
JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE.
I
Trouble invaded the strongholds of 104 Portland Place that winter: TheDuchess was not so well ... no evasions, whether above or below stairs,could conceal the harsh truth. The Duchess was not so well....
To the bewildered mind of Lady Adela the horrid succession of disastersthat the winter had provided no other years could equal. It had allbegun, she often fancied, from the day of Rachel's coming out, from theball, or even, although for this she could not find a real excuse, fromthat visit to the Bond Street Picture Gallery. It was on that afternoon,Lady Adela well remembered, that there had first come to her thosestrange, treacherous thoughts about her mother that had, afterwards, asthey had grown stronger and more formidable, changed life for her. Yes,it had seemed that, with Rachel's appearance before the world, disasterto the Beamister house had appeared also. Her mother's illness, the War,perpetual rumours of Rachel's unsatisfactory marriage, the uncomfortablepresence of Frank Breton, the horrible disaster to poor Roddy--how theytrooped before Lady Adela's eyes! Finally, more terrible than all ofthem, was the complete destruction of the old fiction, the old terror,the old submission. Lady Adela did not now dare to look into her mindbecause of the horrible things that she found there.
Roddy's accident had had the most terrible effect upon the Duchess. OnlyChristopher could really tell how Her Grace had taken it, but throughoutthe house, it was understood that the effect of it had been serious."Wouldn't give her long now," said Mr. Norris. "What with this War andwhat not she was goin' as it was, and now Sir Roderick, as was always,as you might say, her pet, having this awful disaster--no, _I_ don'tgive her long."
Adela of course saw nothing of her mother's feelings; she never had beenallowed to see anything of them and she was not allowed now.
The old lady was outwardly as she had ever been, although she spoke lessand, if you watched her, you could see sometimes that her hands wereshaking. She used paint for her cheeks and she rouged her lips. Her loveof fantastic things had grown very much, and, on the little table behindher chair, there was a row of strange china animals and some Indiandolls with wooden limbs that jangled when you touched them.
But Adela was no longer afraid of her mother. Stimulate it as she would,force upon herself her sensations of the days when she had been afraid,as she did, still the terror would not now confront her. There had beena dreadful scene when the Duchess had been told that her daughter wasacting on the same committee as Mrs. Bronson, the dazzlingAmerican ... a terrible scene ... but Adela had come through it withouta tremor--it had not affected her at all. "It isn't that I've changedmuch either. I'm just as nervous of other things--I'm just the samecoward...."
Perhaps it was, a little, that the war had altered one's values--So manyBeaminster necessities were not quite so necessary--
Certainly John felt the same, and the one consolation to Adela, throughall this horrible time, was that she had grown nearer to John than shehad ever been to anyone--John and she had been attacked by the RealWorld, both of them at the same moment, and they did find comfort, atthis terrifying crisis, in being together.
But all Adela's energy was directed towards concealing from her motherthat there was any change at all--"She must think that things are justthe same, exactly the same. She mustn't ever know that ... well,that ..."
She could not put it into words. Her Grace's illness was never alludedto by any member of the household.
There came word, at the beginning of March, that Roddy had been moved upto London, that Rachel had taken a little house in York Terraceoverlooking Regent's Park, that Roddy was wonderfully cheerful, sufferedpain at times, but was, on the whole marvellous--
Two or three days after this news when Christopher arrived at 104 on hisusual morning visit Lord John met him in the hall.
"I say, come in here a minute," he said, leading the way into his ownlittle smoking-room--Lord John was fatter, scarcely now as rubicund, asshining as he had been--as neat and clean as ever, but there were lineson his forehead, and in his eye, that glance of surprise that had alwaysbeen there had advanced into one of alarm--
"What the devil is life going to do, what horrible trick is it up tonext?" he seemed to say--
"Look here, Christopher," he brought out, when the door was closed."There's the devil and all to pay. My mother declares this morning thatshe's going to pay a visit to Roddy!"
"Well?" Christopher seemed amused.
"But ... Good heavens!" John was aghast--"She hasn't stirred out of herroom for thirty years! She ... she ... it'll kill her!"
"Oh! no, it won't--" Christopher answered, "not if she really means todo it. Of course she can't walk much--she won't have to--We can get herdownstairs, and Roddy's room in York Terrace is on the groundfloor--We'll have to see she doesn't catch cold--She'll have to choose awarm day."
"She says she's going this afternoon!" said Lord John, still overwhelmedby this amazing development.
"Well, to-day won't do any harm----"
"Are you sure?"
"Quite sure. The danger with your mother has always been to stop herinclinations. Indulge 'em all the time if you can, let her say what shewishes, do what she wishes. If you were to carry her out of doorsagainst her will, why it would do a great deal of harm indeed--but ifshe wants to go she'll see that she's up to it. It may be the best thingfor her. She could have gone out heaps of times in the last thirty yearsif she'd wished to!"
Lord John rubbed his forehead--
"It's a great relief to hear you say that, Christopher. I didn't knowhow we were going to get out of it. She was so determined thismorning----"
He broke off--"You're _sure_ it won't do any harm?" he said again.
"I'm sure," said Christopher.
"There's something," Lord John went on again, "dreadfully on my mother'smind--She seems to feel that, in some way or other, she was responsiblefor his accident. I can't get at the bottom of it all and of course shewon't tell me--she never tells me things. Perhaps you can get at it. Isaw Rachel yesterday."
"Yes?"
"She's very fair about it all. Must be having a very hard time. She wasglad to see me, I think, but--" he added a little wistfully--"I've neverbeen anything to her since her marriage.
"She just seemed not to want me after that, and I'd been a good deal toher before. When one's getting old, Christopher, we old bachelors, webegin to notice that nobody wants us very much."
Christopher looked at him--Yes, John Beaminster had changed in the lastyear. Had he himself, he wondered, also changed?
"Yes," he said, smiling. "But I've been an old bachelor, Beaminster,for years and years and I see no likelihood of your ever being one. Youget younger with every year, I believe."
"This accident to Roddy," John said slowly, as though he were thinkingit all out, "has upset us all. It seems so terrible, happening tohim ... much worse for him ... and then Rachel--But look here, I knowyou've got to go up to my mother, I won't keep you a minute--But there'sa thing I've got to talk to you about--It's been on my conscience now forages.... I've not known what to do ... at last I've made up my mind."
John Beaminster had made up his mind to do something that he hated! ToChristopher perhaps more than to anyone else in the world this was arevelation of the most vital, the most moving interest--He had knownJohn for so long, seen him struggling behind screens and curtains,hugging to himself the happy knowledge that to the very end he would beable to keep life from getting at him, and now behold! Life _had_ got athim, wag clutching him by the throat.
"It's about Frank"--at last he desperately brought out "I've made up mymind. I must go and see him--now, perhaps whilst mother is--is stillsuffering from the effects of Roddy's accident it wouldn't be wiseperhaps to have him here actually in the house--But something must bedone.... Adela agrees."
Adela agrees! Well, if the old woman upstairs.... Christopher was moved,as he had lately been often moved, by a swift stirring of pathos.
"You see, this War has upset us all so, has made one feeldifferently--And then he really does seem to have changed, been as quietas anything all this time, and I hear that he's working at somethingsensible down in the City. I must go and see him----"
Then they hadn't heard, Christopher knew, of any rumours about Racheland Francis.
Perhaps there _were_ no rumours, perhaps only in the mind of the oldlady.... But then let John say a word to her about this visit to Bretonand out she would come with it all.
"Yes, Beaminster," Christopher said. "Of course I'm delighted. It's justwhat I hoped would happen, but perhaps, as your mother has been ratherupset lately it would be just as well to say nothing to her...."
"Quite so...." John looked away, out of the window--Poor John!
Christopher held out his hand, and John took it and for a moment theystood there, then Christopher went upstairs.
II
Dorchester no longer asserted that her mistress was "better than she hadever been"--Since that terrible morning when Dr. Christopher had brokenthe news of Sir Roderick's accident Dorchester had made no pretenceabout anything. This was the time that must, she had always known, oneday arrive, but what she had not known was that it would be quite likethis.
She was a woman of some imagination; moreover, were there one person inthe world who touched her heart, then was it her mistress; she hadpenetrated, she thought, some of the strange secrets and fantasies ofthat old woman's soul, and it seemed that now, in these later days, shewas at last in touch with every motive and grim artifice that hermistress adopted--
But no--since that terrible day at the beginning of the year Dorchesterhad lost touch, was left, bewildered, at a loss, as though she weresuddenly in the service of some stranger.
She had known that nothing more terrible could happen to her mistressthan this--When she heard it she said to herself, "This will killher--bound to--" She had known too that her mistress would not flinch,outwardly, and that to the ordinary observer there would be no sign, butthe thing for which she had not been prepared was this silence, asilence so profound and yet so eloquent that one could obtain from it noclue, could discern no visible wound, but daily, almost hourly, as shesat there, change was at work ... she was dying before their eyes--
What Dorchester did not know was that the Duchess had been aware, for along time, that this was to occur, if not exactly this, why, then,something like it.
All through that autumn she had sat there waiting--the War, therebellion of her children--it only needed that disaster should overtakeRoddy and the circle was complete.
She did not doubt that it was because he had married Rachel that thishad happened to him, and she might have prevented his marriage to Rachelhad she wished.
The girl had now for her sitting there in her room the fatalinevitability of some hostile spirit. She saw all her past years as aduel with this girl, the one soul in rebellion against hers. Rachelhad taken everything from her; she had first stirred Adela and Johninto rebellion, she had encouraged Francis Breton, she had destroyedRoddy ... she rose, before the old woman's eyes, black, titanic,sweeping, with great dark wings, across the horizon.
The Duchess did not in so many words state that Rachel had flung herhusband from his horse and then watched whilst his body was draggedalong the stones, but, in some way, the girl had plotted it.
The old woman had indeed during these last months suffered from visions.There were days when her brain was as clear as it had ever been and onthese days she thought more of Roddy than of Rachel, ached to be withhim, longed to comfort him and make life bearable for him, cursedwhatever fate it was that had ordained that upon him of all people sucha burden should have fallen. Then there were other days when the oldchina dragons seemed more real than Dorchester, when shapes and sizesaltered in an instant, when the cushion at her feet was swollen like amountain, when she seemed floating through space, looking down uponhouses, cities, mountains, when only like a jangling chain upon whicheverything hung, ran her hatred of her granddaughter.
On such a day if Rachel had come to her and she had been alone with her,she would have wished the dragons to devour her, would have urged thesilver Indian snake on the little black table to have strangled her. Onsuch a day she would sit hour after hour and wonder what she could do toher granddaughter....
It was upon one of her clear days that it flashed upon her that shewould go and see Roddy. Beyond the actual excitement of visiting Roddythere was the determination to show the world what she still could do.Doubtless they were saying out there that she was bedridden now, ill,helpless, dying even ... well, she would show them.
For thirty years she had not been outside her door--now, because shewished it, she would go.
She said nothing to Adela about this--she saw Adela now as seldom aspossible. She told John on the morning of the day itself--on that samemorning she told Christopher.
She told him sitting in her chair, with her cheeks painted and her whitefingers covered with rings--
"I'm going to pay a visit--this afternoon, Christopher." She hadexpected opposition--she was a little disappointed when he said--
"Yes, so I've already heard this morning. I think it's an excellentthing--the day's warm. You'll have to be carried downstairs, youknow----"
"You and Norris can do that. I won't have anyone else."
"Very well, I shall have to come with you----"
"Yes--You can talk to my granddaughter."
"It's thirty years...."
"Yes--The last time was Old Judy Bonnings's reception. They're alldead--all of 'em--D'you remember, Dorchester?"
"Yes--Your Grace--Very well."
Dorchester expressed no surprise--Anything was better than that silenceof the last months. Moreover she had trusted Christopher. She had oftenbeen amazed at the knowledge that he showed of her mistress'stemperament, would allow her temper, her imperious self-will indulgenceone day and on another would control them absolutely. He knew what hewas doing....
The picture that she presented, however, when helped downstairs by thepontifical Norris and Christopher! the house, with the decorouswatchfulness of some large, solemn, and immensely authoritativepoliceman, surveying her descent, her own little bird-like face, showingnothing but a fine assumption of her splendid appearance before thepublic, after thirty years, she thus, once again, was saluted byPortland Place! Black furs of Lady Adela's surrounded, enfolded her, andfrom out of them her eyes haughtily but triumphantly surveyed acrossing-sweeper, two small children with their nurse, a messenger boy,and Roller the coachman. To Roller this must have been _the_ dramaticmoment of a somewhat undramatic career, but stout and imperial upon hisbox his body was held, rigid, motionless, and his large stupid eyesgazed in front of him at the trees and the light cloud-flecked Marchsky, and moved neither to the right nor to the left.
She was placed in the carriage--Christopher got in beside her and theymoved off. He was interested to see the effect that this breaking intothe world would have upon her. He felt himself a little in the positionof showman and was glad that he had a spring afternoon of gleamingsunshine and a suggestion of budding trees and shrubs in the PortlandCrescent garden to provide for her. They were held up by traffic as theycrossed the Marylebone Road; drays, hansoms, bicycles passed--there wasa stir of voices and wheels, somewhere in the park a band was playing.
He looked at her and saw that she paid no heed, but sat back in the dimshadow, her eyes, he thought, closed. She was, at that instant, moreremote from him and all that he represented than she had everbeen--Curiously he was moved, just then, by a consciousness of herpersonality that exceeded anything that he had ever felt in her before.
"Yes, she must have been tremendous," he thought. And then he wonderedof what she was thinking, so quiet, and yet, from her very silence,sinister, and then--how could he have not considered this before? W
hatwas she going to say to Roddy?
At this, the dark carriage was suddenly, for him, as flashing with lifeand circumstance as though it had been the florid circle of some popularmusic-hall--_What_ would she say to Roddy?
He knew her for the most selfish of all possible old women: unselfishonly perhaps if Roddy were concerned, but there also, if some questionof her power moved her, ruthless. He had traced the windings of herqueer intertwisted brain with some accuracy--He knew also that thecoloured unreal state that her closed, fantastic life (resembling, youmight say, life inside a Chinese puzzle) had brought upon her led hernow to see Rachel as arch-antagonist in every step and movement of herday.
She would not wish to make Roddy unhappy, she might persuade herselfthat to hint to him of Rachel's infidelity would be to put him on hisguard--she might say that it was not fair that Rachel should not bepulled up....
Christopher himself could not tell how far this affair with Breton hadgone....
During that short time it seemed to him that a crisis, that had beenbuilding up around him, here, there, for months, for years perhaps, hadleapt upon him and that in some way he must deal with it.
Even whilst he struggled with the thoughts that were sweeping upon himnow from every side, they were at the house--As he stepped out of thecarriage he felt that he was before a locked door, that the safety ofmany persons depended upon his opening it, that he could not find thekey.
"Lady Seddon was out. Sir Roderick was alone----" The Duchess was halfassisted, half carried into the house.
III
The Duchess's feelings were indeed confused as she was helped intoRoddy's room, placed in a large easy chair opposite to him and at lastleft alone with him.
Enough of itself to disturb her was the fact that now for the first timefor thirty years she was able to examine some room different from herown--A large, high white-walled room with wide windows that displayedthe park, sporting prints on the walls, antlers over the fireplace, apiano in one corner, a large bowl of primroses on the piano, someboxing-gloves and two old swords over the door, a wooden case with thinrosewood drawers and "Birds' Eggs" in gold letters upon it, a roundtable near the sofa upon which Roddy was lying and on the table aphotograph of Rachel--
All these things her sharp old eyes noticed before she allowed them tosettle upon Roddy--
His quiet, almost humorous "Well, Duchess," set, quite concisely, thenote for this conversation. Not for either of them was it to betray anyconsciousness that this meeting of theirs was in any way out of theordinary. Formerly it had been the ebullient, vigorous Roddy who hadbrought his vigour to renew her fierce old age; now that old age must bebrought to him--
The Beaminsters did not show surprise at anything at all; had she comefrom her grave to visit him he would have greeted her with his quiet"Well, Duchess"--his life was broken in pieces, but she was not to offerany comment on that either.
She was exhausted even by that little drive, and that little passagefrom door to door, so she just lay back in her chair for a little whileand looked at him.
His body was covered with a rug; his hands, still brown and large andclumsy, were folded on his lap; he was wonderfully tidy, brushed andcleaned, it seemed to her, as though he were always expecting a doctoror a visitor or were performed upon by some valet or other, simply, poordear, that the time might be filled. His cheeks were paler of course andhis face thinner, but it was in his eyes--his large, simple, singularlyungrown-up eyes she had always considered them--that the great changelay--
They smiled across at her with the same genial good temper that they hadalways presented to her. But indeed she could never call them"ungrown-up" again. Roddy Seddon had grown up indeed since she had seenhim last; she knew now, as she faced the experience and, above all, thestrength that those eyes now presented for her, that she had a newspirit to encounter.
Yes--he "had had a horrible time," but she was wise enough, at thatinstant, to realise that the "horrible time" had drawn character out ofhim that she, at least, had never, for an instant, suspected.
The old woman was moved so that she would have liked to have tottered tohis sofa, to have caught his hands in her old dry ones, to have kissedhim, to have smoothed his hair--but she sat quietly in her chair,recovered her breath and, grimly, almost saturninely, smiled at him.
"Well, Roddy," she said, "how are you?"
"I'm quite splendid. Play patience like a professor, can knit fivemufflers in a week and am learning two foreign languages--But indeedhow rippin' to see you here. I've spent a lot o' time on this old sofawonderin' how you and I were goin' to see one another."
"Have you?" She was pleased at that--"Well, you see, I _have_ managed itand quite easily too, not so bad after thirty years. My _good_ Roddy,you of all people to tumble off a horse! What _were_ you about?"
"Oh! it was simple enough." Roddy's eyes worked swiftly to the park andthen back again. "I was worried, you see--my thoughts were wandering,and the old mare just tripped into a hole, pitched and flung me--I fellon a heap o' stones, _they_ knocked the sense out of me, the horse wasfrightened and went dashin' along with me tangled up in her. All came ofmy thoughts wanderin'--But you know, Duchess, I've had heaps ofaccidents, heaps and heaps, every kind of thing has happened to me, butit's never been serious--always the most wonderful luck. Well, for onceit left me."
"Poor old Roddy."
"Yes, it _was_ 'poor old Roddy,' I can tell you, for the first sixweeks--thought I simply _couldn't_ stand it, had serious thoughts ofkickin' out altogether, seemed to me everythin' had gone ... it'swonderful, though, the way you pick up. And then everyone's been sotremendous, and as for Rachel!"
He heaved a great sigh--Her eyes half closed, then she looked verycarefully at the photograph on the little round table. "That's a goodphotograph of her you've got."
"Yes--it's my favourite. But you, Duchess, tell me about yourself. Youmust be in magnificent form to have planned this great adventure."
She told him about herself--only a little, all very carefullychosen--She was fancying, as she sat there, that she was again playingthe great diplomatist before the world.
This expedition had greatly excited her, it had fired her blood, andjust now she felt that she was equal to taking up her old life of thirtyyears ago, playing once more a tremendous part, beating Mrs. Bronson andothers of her kind straight off the field.
She had a great plan now of coming often to see Roddy and of gaining avery great influence over him; she did not say to herself in so manywords that she could not bear to think of him lying there helpless andtherefore completely in Rachel's power, but that is what in realitystirred her.
Roddy's helplessness--the sight and sound of it--drove higher that flamethat had burnt now for so long before the altar at which Rachel was, oneday, to be sacrificed. "She may come and go as she pleases. He lieshere--He can do nothing. He can know nothing of her movements--He's inher hands--after what I know...."
What did she know? The acquaintanceship of Breton's man-servant andDorchester had produced the fact of Rachel's visit, of letters--butwasn't that all? Amongst the strange mingled visions that now crossedand recrossed her brain it were hard to say what were real and whatphantasmal. But granted that the two of them had come together at all,why then it was plain enough to anyone who knew them that only oneresult was possible--Poor Roddy ... _her_ poor Roddy!
But she did not know even now that she intended to tell him anything;her sense of the pain that that revelation would give to him held her,but as the minutes passed her delight at being back once more in thisgay, bustling world (yes, she liked its new invigorating noises) thesense of power that she had, and youth, and strength, spun her brain tofinest cobwebs of entanglements.
She was glad to be with her Roddy again, it was only fair that, helplessas he was, there should still be someone to guard and protect him ... toprotect him, yes!
Her eyes flashed at the photograph.
But for a long time they talked in precisely their old fashion. T
he War,friends and enemies, victories and defeats, marriages and deaths; Roddyseemed, for a time, the old Roddy.
And then gradually through it all there pushed towards her theconsciousness that he was doing it now to please her; more than that,again and again she was aware that some bitter jest, some sharpdistraction, some fierce criticism had been turned by him deftlyaside--simply rejected with a deftness and a strength that the old Roddycould never have summoned.
Here again then--and it stabbed her there in the midst of her new prideand confidence--was a reminder that her power, her sovereignty hadvanished! Was Roddy also to be beyond her influence, Roddy whom she hadhad at her feet since he was a boy of sixteen?
The photograph smiled across at her--She bent forward, her hand raised alittle as though to lend emphasis to her words--"And then you know,Roddy, I'm still troubled with my abominable relation----"
"What! Breton? Why, how's he been behaving?" Roddy's voice was scornful.
"Oh! he's not _done_ anything that I know of--But he's always there--sotiresome to have him so close, and John and Adela have grown so peculiarlately that there's no knowing--They may ask him in to tea one day----"
"Oh no, they won't," said Roddy. "He must be the most awful outsider."
"I wanted to speak about him to you because I thought you might give aword of warning to Rachel----"
"To Rachel?" Roddy's voice was amazed.
"Yes--She's become such a friend of his! Surely you know? That's whatmakes it so difficult for me--When one's own granddaughter----"
"Rachel! A friend of Breton's! But I didn't know she'd ever spoken tohim--Look here, Duchess, you must explain----"
"I thought you must have known. I've often wished to speak to you aboutit, only Rachel is so difficult and I didn't want to worry you, and itseems especially hard just now----"
"But it doesn't worry me--not a bit. Only tell me--How do you mean thatshe's a friend of his?"
"Only that she goes to see him, writes to him----"
"Goes to _see_ him----"
"Oh yes--is in complete sympathy----"
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. You must ask her."
"I will of course----"
He lay back on his sofa. For a little time there was silence betweenthem. She was filled now with wild regrets. She wished that she had saidnothing. His face was hard and old--She wished ... she scarcely knewwhat she wished; she only knew that suddenly she was tired and wouldlike to go home.
A bell was rung and Christopher was sent for. She would like to havekissed Roddy, but only wagged her bony finger at him--
"Now be a good patient boy and I'll soon come again."
IV
Meanwhile, five minutes before this, Rachel had come in. She was told ofthe visits, and going swiftly to the little drawing-room upstairs hadfound Christopher.
She flung her arms around him and kissed him.
"Oh, dear Dr. Chris!"
But he stopped her.
"Quick, Rachel. I may only have a minute.... I've got to speak to you."
Instantly she drew back, her grave eyes watching him and her hands, asof old, nervously moving against her dress.
"What is it?"
"It's just this. The Duchess may ring at any moment--she's been with hima long while. Look here, Rachel, she knows about Breton--that you'vebeen to see him, that you've written to him----"
"She told you?"
"Yes--long ago--But never mind that now, although I'd have spoken to youof it before if you'd let me--But the only thing that matters is that Ibelieve--I can't of course be sure--but I believe that she's come now totell Roddy."
Rachel drew a long breath. "Oh!" she said and, stiffly standing there,showed in her eyes the pitch of feeling to which now her grandmother hadbrought her.
Christopher went on urgently--"I've been praying for you to come in. Ihoped you'd have come half an hour ago. There's no time now, but--it'ssimply this, Rachel dear--tell Roddy everything----"
She broke in passionately. "You know it's all right, Dr. Chris--you'vetrusted me?"
"Absolutely," he said gravely. "But it simply is that Roddy mustn't bethere imagining things, waiting, wondering.... Perhaps he won't askyou--Perhaps he will--But, anyway, tell him--tell him at onceeverything...."
The bell rang, he went across to her, kissed her, and then wentdownstairs.
She stood there waiting, without moving except to strip off, veryslowly, her black gloves. Her eyes were fixed upon the door.
She heard the door downstairs open, the stumbling steps; once she caughtthe Duchess's voice and at that she drew in her breath. Then the halldoor closed, but, for a long time afterwards, she stood there withoutmoving.