CHAPTER VII
CHAMBER MUSIC--A TRIO
"A place may abound in its own sense, as the phrase is, without bristling in the least."--_The American Scene._
HENRY JAMES.
I
The storm savagely retreating left blue skies, spring, and the greenestgrass the parks had ever displayed, behind it. Roddy, lying before hiswindow, watched the pond, gleaming like blue grass but crisped by thebreeze into a thousand ripples. Two babies ran, tumbled, screamed andshouted, and all the many-coloured ducks, the ducks with red bills, theducks with draggled feathers, the ducks in grey and brown, chatteredbeneath the sun.
By midday a note had arrived from Breton saying that he would be withRoddy at half-past four; there was no word from the Duchess. He knewtherefore that his plan had prospered. But, with those morningreflections that freeze so remorselessly the hot decisions of the nightbefore, he was afraid of what he had done; he was afraid of Rachel.
He was afraid of Rachel because he recognized, now that he was on thebrink of this plunge, how much deeper and more dangerous it might be forhim than he had thought. During these last months he had been slowlycapturing Rachel; that capture was the one ambition and desire of hislife.
But in the very intensity and ardour of his desire he had learnt moresurely than ever the strange contradictions that made her character. Hisaccident had increased his own age and so emphasized her youth; she wasever so young, ever so impulsive; her seriousness was the seriousness ofsome very youthful spirit, who, guessing at the terrific difficulty oflife, feels that the only way to surmount it is to close eyes blindlyand leap over the whole of it at once. This was what he knew in hisheart--although he would never have put it into words--as her adorablepriggishness.
She had found her solution and everything must fit into it, but, sinceshe had finally resolved it, nothing would fit into it at all--and therewas the whole of Rachel's young history!
To Roddy one thing manifest was that a very tiny blunder might shatterthe bond that was forming between them, and it was eloquent of a greatdeal that, whereas before in the Nita Raseley episode, it had beenRachel who feared the one false step, it was now Roddy. What it came towas that, in spite of everything, he was still unable to prophesy abouther. She was still unrealized, almost untouched by him, that was partlywhy he loved her so.
Roddy's brain had been alive last night and ready to grapple withanything; to-day he felt stupid and confused. "We're in for a jolly goodrow," he thought, "far as I can see. There's no avoidin' it. Anyway,some clearin' up will come out of all of it."
So intent was he upon Rachel that he scarcely considered the Duchess. Hehad not very much imagination about people and made the English mistakeof believing that everyone else saw life as he did. He had, for thatvery reason, never believed very seriously in the Duchess's passion forhimself; he liked her indeed for her hardness and resented anyappearance of the gentler motions--"She'll like tellin' us all what shethinks of it"--placed _her_ in the afternoon's battle. He might havetaken it all, had he chosen, as the most curious circumstance, that heshould be "arranging things"--eloquent of the changed order of his lifeand of the new man that he was becoming.
He lay there all the morning, nervous and restless--Rachel had looked infor a moment and had told him that she was going to see Christopher,that she might not return to luncheon. He had fancied that, in thosefew moments, he had divined in her some especial thrill--"We're allgoing to be tuned up this afternoon."
If he found--and this was the question that he asked himself mosturgently--that Rachel really had, in the competent interpretation of theterm, "deserted" him for Breton, what would be his sensations? Being anEnglishman he would, of course, horsewhip the fellow, divorce Rachel andlead a misanthropic but sensual existence for the rest of his days. Buthere the wild strain in Roddy counted. That is exactly what Roddy wouldnot do. What was law for the man must be law also for the woman.
He had, on an earlier day, told her that were he to present her with athousand infidelities, yet he would love her best and most truly, andtherefore she must forgive him. Well, that should be true too forher.... Any episode with Breton seemed only an incident in the pursuitof her that Roddy had commenced on that day that he had married her.
And yet was not this readiness on his part to forgive her sprung fromhis conviction that she would have told him had she had so much toconfess to him? Let her relations with Breton remain uncertain andshifting, then she might have found justification for her silence; letthem once have found so definite a climax and she must havespoken--Roddy had indeed advanced in his knowledge both of her andhimself since two years ago.
By the early afternoon he was in a pitiable state. Should he send notesto the Duchess and Breton telling them both that he was too unwell, toocross, too sleepy, too "anything" to see them? Should he retire to bedand leave Peters to make his excuses? Should he disappear and tellRachel to deal with them? _What_ a scene there'd be between the three ofthem!
His illness had made a difference to his nerve, lying there on one'sback took the grit away, gave one too much time to think, showed onesuch momentous issues.
On the events of this afternoon might hang all his life and allRachel's!
His capture of her was indeed now to be put to the test!...
II
Rachel came into his room at four o'clock. She carried a great bunch ofviolets and a paper parcel.
She smiled across the room at him; a cap of white fur on her head, andthe hand with the violets held also a large white muff.
"Roddy--I'm coming to have tea with you--alone. You'll be out toeveryone, won't you? But first, see what I've brought you."
She was dreadfully excited, he thought, as though she knew already thekind of thing that awaited her. Her smile was nervous, and thattrembling of her upper lip, as though she would, perhaps, cry andperhaps would laugh but really was not sure, always told him when shewas afraid.
"See what I've brought you!" She put the violets down upon the tablebeside him--"Now! Look!" She undid the paper and held up to his gaze adeep, gleaming silver lustre bowl, a beautiful bowl because of itsinstant friendliness and richness and completeness--"I found it!" shesaid, "staring at me out of a shop window, demanding to be bought. Ithought you'd like it."
She put it on his table, found water and filled it, then arranged theviolets in it.
"Oh! my dear! it's beautiful!" he said, and then, with his eyes fixedupon her face, watched her arrange the flowers. But he brought out atlast, "I'm afraid I can't promise to be alone for tea."
"Oh!" she stepped back from the flowers and looked at him. They facedone another, the silver bowl between them. She stood, as she always did,when she had something difficult to face, her long hands straight at herside, her hands slowly closing and unclosing, her eyes fixed upon somefar distance.
"Roddy, please!" she said, "I do want to be alone with you thisafternoon. I have a special, very special reason. I want to talk."
"You see----" he said.
"No," she cried impatiently. "We _must_ have this afternoon toourselves. Tell Peters that you're too ill, too tired, anything. I'msure, after all that storm last night, it would be perfectly natural ifyou were. Now, please, Roddy."
"I'm awfully sorry, Rachel dear. If I'd only known. If you'd only toldme last night."
"I didn't know myself last night. How could I? But now--it's mostawfully important, Roddy. I've--I've something to tell you."
His heart beat thickly, his eyes shone.
"Well, they won't stay long, I dare say."
"Who are they?"
"Oh! nobody--special. Friends----"
"Then if they _aren't special_ put them off. Roddy dear, I beg you----"
"No, Rachel, I can't----"
"Well--you might----" For a moment it seemed that she would be angry.Then suddenly she smiled, shrugged her shoulders--at last, moved acrossand touched the violets; then, with a little gesture, bent down andkissed him.
"We
ll, my dear, of course you will have your way. But am I to be allowedto come or are these mysterious friends of yours too private--toosecret?"
"Not a bit of it. I want you to come."
"I'll go and take my things off. I hope they'll come soon; I'm dying fortea, I've had such a tiring day, and last night----"
"How was last night? You haven't had time to tell me."
She was by the door, but she turned and faced him. "Oh! I was so silly.The weather upset me and I went and fainted at Lady Carloes'."
"Fainted!" His voice was instantly sharp with anxiety.
"Yes--in the middle of dinner. _Such_ a scene and Uncle Richard thoughtI let down the family dreadfully."
"I hope you went straight to bed--Ah! that was why you saw Christopherthis morning!"
"Yes, that was why! No, I didn't come straight back last night--I wentround to Lizzie's--I was frightened and felt that I couldn't come backall alone."
They were both of them instantly aware that someone else lived at 24Saxton Square beside Miss Rand. There was a sharp little pause, duringwhich they both of them heard their hearts say: "Oh! I hope you aren'tgoing to let _that_ little thing matter!"
Then Roddy said--"Well, dear. I'm jolly glad you _did_ go to Lizzie. Ihate your fainting like that. What did Christopher say this morning?"
"Oh! nothing--I'll tell you later."
She was gone.
When she returned Peters was bringing in the tea and they could exchangeno word. The spring was beginning, already the evenings were longer anda pale glow, orange-coloured, lingered in the sky and lit the green ofthe park with dim radiance. Within the room the fire crackled, thesilver shone, the lustre bowl was glowing--
Rachel went across to the table, then staring out at the evening lightsaid, "Roddy, who _are_ your visitors?"
Peters answered her question by opening the door and announcing--
"Mr. Breton, my lady."
III
She took it with a composure that was simply panic frozen intostillness. She saw him come, straight from the square immobility ofPeters, out to meet her, noticed that he looked "most horribly ill" andthat his eyes cowered, as it were, behind their lashes, as though theyfeared a blow--she saw him catch the picture of her, hold her for aninstant whilst his cheeks flooded with colour, then all expression lefthim; he walked towards her as though the real Francis Breton, after thatfirst glance had turned and left the room, and only the lifeless husk ofhim remained.
For herself, after the word from Peters, her mind had flown to Roddy. Heknew everything--there could no longer be doubt of that--but oh! how sheturned furiously now upon the indecision that had allowed to surrenderher courage and her self-respect! With that she wondered what it wasthat her grandmother had told him. Perhaps he believed worse than thetruth. Perhaps he thought that nothing too bad....
And what, after all, did he intend to do? This meeting had sprung fromsome arranged plan and he had, doubtless, now, some end in view. Had hemeditated some vengeance upon Breton? At all costs, he must beprotected.
Meanwhile Breton had, apparently, taken it for granted that she hadknown about his coming.
"How do you do, Lady Seddon?" he said, shaking her hand.
"You don't know my husband," she said quietly. "Roddy, this is Mr.Breton."
Breton went over to the sofa and the two men shook hands.
"How do you do?" Roddy said, smiling. "My word, the feller _does_ lookill!" was Roddy's thought. He did not know what type of man he hadexpected to see, but it was not, most certainly, this nervous ratherpathetic figure with the pointed beard, the white cheeks, the blue eyes,the armless sleeve, that uncertain movement that invited yourconsideration and seemed to say, "I've had a bad time--not altogether myfault. I'm trying now to do my best. Do help me."
"Just the sort of feller women would be sorry for," Roddy thought. Buthe was rather happily conscious that, although he was lying therehelpless on his back, he was on the whole in better trim than hisvisitor.
Breton, before he sat down, turning to Roddy, said, "I was very nearlywiring to you my excuses, Sir Roderick. I've been most awfully unwelllately and all that thunder yesterday laid me up. I got sunstroke oncein Africa and I've always had to be careful since."
"Jolly good of you to come," said Roddy. "Sorry it was such shortnotice. But I can never tell, you know, quite how I'll be from day today."
Breton sat down and the two men looked at one another. To Breton, whoseimagination led him to live in an alternation of consternation andanticipation, the whole affair was utterly bewildering. He had reachedhis rooms, on the night before, soaked to the skin, and had foundRoddy's note waiting for him. It had seemed to him then as though itwere, in all probability, some trick of the devil's, but he had ofcourse accepted it as he accepted all challenges.
He had supposed that he would be confronted by a raging, tempestuoushusband. He would welcome anything that would bring him again intocontact with Rachel and he always enjoyed a scene. But he had never,for an instant, imagined that Rachel would be present. The sight ofher took all calmer deliberation away from him because he wished soeagerly to speak to her and to hear her voice.
They were sitting with the table between them and they were both of themconscious first of Roddy, lying so still and watching them from hissofa, and then of the last time that they had met and of that last kissthey had taken. But Rachel, with strange relief and also with yetstranger disappointment, was realizing that Breton's presence gave herno spark, no tiniest flame of passion. She was sorry for him, she wishedmost urgently that no harm should come to him, she would, here at thismoment, protect him with her life, with her honour, with anything thathe might demand of her, but her emotion, every vital burning part of it,was given to her retention of Roddy.
She might have felt anger because she had, as it were, been entrapped,she might have felt terror of the possible results to herself ... shefelt nothing except that she must not lose Roddy.
"I know now," she said, perhaps to herself, "I know at last what it isthat I have wanted. And, knowing this, if, just grasping it, I shouldlose it!"
"Tea, Mr. Breton--sugar? Milk? Would you take my husband's cup to him?Thank you so much. Yes, he has sugar----"
"I was so sorry," Breton said, "to hear of your accident. You must havehad a bad time."
"Yes," said Roddy, laughing. "It was rotten! But what one loses one wayone gains in another, I find. People are much pleasanter than they usedto be."
Roddy, as he looked at them both, had something of the feeling that aschoolboy might be expected to have did he suddenly find that some trickthat he had planned was having a really great success.
He was strangely relieved at Breton's appearance, he was more sure thanever of his retention of Rachel, he had, most delightfully up hissleeve, the imminent appearance of the Duchess. As he looked at his wifehe could see that she was appealing to him not to make it too hard forboth of them. He could, now that he had seen Breton, flatter himselfwith something of the same superiority that Rachel had once shown onbeholding Nita Raseley.
Breton, as the moments passed, felt firmer ground beneath his feet.Rachel, wondering how she could contrive their meeting, had chosen this,the boldest way, had begged her husband to invite him, planned to makehim a friend of the house. And yet with all this new confidence, he felttoo that there was something that he missed in Rachel, some response tohis thrill, he could see that she was ill at ease and was relying on himperhaps, "to carry it off."
So he carried it off, talked and laughed about his experiences, thecountries that he had seen, things that he had done, and, as always whenhe was striving to make the best impression, made the worst, lettingthat note of exaggeration, of something theatrical that was dangerouslynear to a pose, creep into his voice and his attitude.
Rachel and Roddy said very little. He stopped, felt that he had beenspeaking too much, and, sensitive always to an atmosphere that was notkindly to him, cursed himself for a fool and wished that he had neverspoken at
all.
There was a little pause, then Roddy said, "That's very interesting.I've never been to South America, but I hear it's going to be _the_place soon. Everyone's as rich as Croesus out there, I believe.Another cup, Rachel dear, please--Oh! thank you, Mr. Breton."
Breton brought the cup to Rachel and then stood there, with his back toRoddy, his eyes upon Rachel's face, trying to tell her what he wasfeeling. Quietly Roddy's voice came to them both.
"There _is_ one little thing--one reason why I wanted you to come thisafternoon, Mr. Breton."
Rachel got up, her eyes fixed intently upon Roddy's face. "No, Rachel,don't go. It concerns us all three." Roddy laughed. "I don't want any ofus to take it very seriously. It is entirely between ourselves. I dohope," he went on more gravely, "that I haven't been takin' any libertyin arrangin' things like this, but it seemed to me the only way--just tostop, you know, the thing once and for all."
Breton had left the table and was standing in the middle of the room. Athousand wild thoughts had come to him. This was a trap--a trap thatRachel....
The room whirled about him--he put his hand on to the back of a chair tosteady himself, then turned to Rachel, seeking her with his eyes.
He saw instantly in her white face and eyes, that never left, for aninstant, her husband, that there was nothing here of which she had hadany foreknowledge.
"It's only," said Roddy, "that somebody came to me, a few days ago, andtold me that you, Mr. Breton, and my wife were on friendlier terms thanI--well, than I would, if I had known, have cared for----"
Breton started forward. "I----" he began.
"No, please," said Roddy. "It isn't anythin' that I myself have taken,don't you know, for a second, seriously. I have only arranged that wethree should come like this because--for all our sakes--if people aresayin' those things it ought to be stopped. It's hard for me, you see,bein' like this to know quite _how_ to stop it, so I thought we'd justmeet and talk it over."
Roddy drew a deep breath. He hated explaining things, he dislikedintensely having to say much about anything. He looked round at Rachelwith a reassuring smile to tell her that she need not really be alarmed.
She had left the table and stood facing both the men. Full at her heart,was a deep, glad relief that, at last, at last, the moment had come whenshe could tell everything, when she might face Roddy with allconcealment cleared, when she might, above all, meet her grandmother'sdefinite challenge and withstand it.
But, indeed, she was to meet it, more immediately and more dramaticallythan she had expected. Even as she prepared to speak, she caught, beyondthe door, strange shuffling sounds.
The door, rather clumsily, as though handled with muffled fingers,slowly opened.
Framed in it, leaning partly upon Peters, and partly upon a footman,staring at the room and its occupants from beneath the sinister coveringof a black high-peaked bonnet, was the Duchess.
The old lady caught, for a second, the vision of her grandchildren, beatdown from her face the effect that their presence had upon her, thenmoved slowly, between her supporters, towards the nearest chair.