CHAPTER VIII
A QUARTETTE
"Her dignity consisted, I do believe, in her recognition, always sure and prompt, of the dramatic moment."--HENRY GALLEON.
I
Rachel came forward: Roddy from his sofa said something.
She was, it seemed, unconscious of them all, fixing her eyes upon alarge black-leather arm-chair, settling slowly down into it, dismissingPeters and the footman with "Thank you--That is very kind": then, atlast leaning her hands upon her ebony cane, raised her eyes and smiledgrimly, almost triumphantly, at Roddy.
He had been aware, at that first glimpse of her in the doorway, that hewas ashamed of himself. He should not have done it.
She was older, feebler, more of a victim than he had ever conceived herpossibly to be, and in some way the situation that awaited her changedher entirely from the old tyrant who had sat there talking to him only aweek ago into someone who demanded of one's chivalry, of one's courtesy,protection.
Roddy had also caught the light of fierce recognition that had leapt upinto Breton's face as he had realized who it was that stood before him.Breton must have many old scores to pay.... Roddy was suddenlyfrightened of the emotions, the fierce resentments, the angry rebellionsthat he had brought so lightly into collision.
But the smile that the Duchess flung to him had in it no fear. It saidto him: "Oh, young man, _this_ is your little plot, is it? Oh, Roddy, myfriend, _how_ young you are and _how_ little you know me if you thinkthat I am in the least embarrassed by this little gathering. I'm gladthat you've given me a chance of showing what I can do."
She dominated the room; she was, from the minute of her appearance,mistress of the situation. They realized her power as they had neverrealized it before.
Sitting there, leaning forward upon her cane, she remarkably resembledYale Ross's portrait. She was even wearing the green jade pendant, andher black dress, her bonnet, her fine white wrists, a gold chain withits jangling cluster of things--a gold pencil, a card case, a nettedpurse--these flung into fine relief the sharp white face lit now with anamused, an ironic vitality.
She was old, she was ill, she was being trodden down by generationshungrier than any that she had ever known, but she was as indomitable asshe had ever been.
She looked about the room; her glance passed, without any flash ofrecognition, without sign or signal that she had realized his presence,over the fierce figure of her grandson.
"Well, my dear," she said to Rachel, "I'm sure this is all very pleasantand most unexpected. Let's have some tea."
"I'm afraid," said Rachel, "that it's been standing some time. Let mering for some fresh."
"No--I like it strong. It used always to be strong when I was younger.This new generation likes things weak, I believe."
Rachel, looking at her grandmother, felt nothing of Roddy's compunction.She did not, even now, grasp entirely Roddy's intention; she had no sureconviction of the climax that he intended; but she _did_ know that here,at last, was her chance; she should lift, once and for all, out from allthe lies and confusion that had shrouded them, her attempts at courageand honesty, attempts that had wretchedly, most forlornly failed.
Breton should know, Roddy should know, the Duchess should know, and sheherself should never again go back.
Breton did not move from the corner where he was sitting; he waitedthere, his hand pressing hard upon his knee.
Roddy said, "Most awfully good of you, Duchess, to come out again. Iwouldn't have dared to ask you to come if Christopher hadn't said thatlast time did you no harm."
"Only for you, Roddy," she answered him almost gaily, "and Rachel ofcourse. To-day's a nice day. All that thunder has cleared the air."
What her voice must have seemed to Francis Breton, coming back to himagain after so vast a distance, bringing to him a thousand memories,scenes and faces that had been buried, a whole world of regrets, anddisappointments.
Rachel gave her her tea; brought a little table to her side.
"Thank you, my dear. How _are_ you, Rachel? You're not looking verywell. Richard, who came in to see me this morning, told me that you wereill at dinner last night. He seemed quite anxious."
"It was nothing, thank you, grandmamma. That thunder always upsets me. Iwas sorry to interfere with Lady Carloes' dinner-party."
"Not much of a party from what Richard told me. And she had in a harpistafterwards. Why a harpist? Poor Aggie Carloes! Always done the wrongthing ever since she was a child. Yes, her little drawing-room's sostuffy, they tell me--must have been intolerable last night."
It was for all three of them a quite unbearable situation. Roddy hadnever, even when he was a boy of sixteen, been afraid of her; now atlast he understood what the power was that had kept her family at herfeet for so many years, indeed, he seemed now to perceive in all ofthem--in Breton, in Rachel, as well as in the Duchess--a strain of somealmost hysterical passion, that, held in check though it was, for themoment, promised to flare into the frankest melodrama at the slightestpretext.
Anything better than this pause; he plunged.
"You won't forgive me, Duchess," he said abruptly. "I believe I've donea pretty rotten thing. I didn't intend it that way. I only meant just toclear everything up and make it all straight for everybody, but if I'vebeen unpardonable just say so and give it me hot."
He paused and cleared his throat. "I wonder if you'd mind, Rachel," saidthe Duchess, "passing me that little stool that I see over there--thatlittle brown stool. Just put it under my feet, will you? Thank you."
Roddy desperately proceeded.
"It's only this. You said the last time you came that you hadheard--that you knew--that you were afraid that Rachel and yourgrandson, Mr. Breton, were--had been--seein' too much of one another.You just put it to me, you know--Well," he went on, trying to make hisvoice cheerful and ordinary and failing completely, "lyin' on one's backone gets thinkin' and broodin', specially a feller who hasn't been usedto it, like me. I got worried--not because I didn't trust Rachel--andMr. Breton, of course, all the way, because I do; but simply that, youknow, it's rotten for a feller to be lyin' helpless on his back,thinkin' that people are talkin' about his wife--you know how maliciouspeople are, Duchess--and I thought it jolly well must be stopped, don'tyou know, and I wanted it stopped quick and straight and clean, and Ididn't see how it was goin' to be stopped unless I'd got us all friendlytogether here and just squashed it, all of us. And so--well, tospeak--well, here we are.... And," he concluded, trying to smile uponeveryone present, "I do hope it's all right. It didn't seem then a poorsort of thing to do, but somehow gettin' you all here as a surprise...."He broke off, made noises in his throat, and felt that the room was of aburning heat.
He remembered, vaguely, that he had designed this meeting as apunishment to the old lady; he had only succeeded, however, in revealinghis own cowardice; the first glimpse of her had made a poor creature ofhim. Oh! how he wished himself now well out of it! And yet, behind thatthought was the knowledge of the little speech that he was soon to makeand the way that, with it, he would win Rachel and hold her for ever!After all, it came to that, absolutely: Rachel was the only thing in allthe world that mattered.
The Duchess flung upon him a kindly satiric glance, then, turning fromhim, bent her sharp little eyes upon Rachel, leaning forward upon hercane so that it appeared that it was now only with Rachel that she hadany concern.
"Had I known that my few careless words!"--She broke off with a littleimpatient gesture.
"Ah! Rachel, my dear, I'm truly sorry. My stupidity...."
But Rachel, her eyes upon Roddy, had got up, had moved across to Roddy'ssofa, and stood there, above him. Her eyes moved, then, slowly to hergrandmother.
"There was no need," she said, her voice low and trembling, "for this.If I'd done, as I should, it couldn't have happened. I'm responsible forall of it and only I. Roddy _has_ got you here on false pretences,grandmamma. If you'd rather go now...."
"Thank you," the Duchess said, "I'd
much rather stay. It amuses me tosee you all together here."
"Then," said Rachel, "I'll say what I ought to have saidbefore. Roddy," turning passionately round to him, "you shallhave everything--everything--from the very beginning. Mr.Breton--Francis--will agree that that's what we should have done--longago."
Breton made a movement as though he would rise, then stayed.
"Aren't we, my dear Rachel," said the Duchess, "making a great deal of avery small affair?"
But Rachel, speaking only to Roddy, sinking her voice and bending alittle down to him, began, "Roddy, one thing you've got to know--it'sbeen from the beginning only myself that was to blame. Francis"--shepaused, for an instant, over the name--"Francis, please," as he movedagain from his corner, "let _me_ tell Roddy...."
She went on then more firmly, turning a little round to her grandmotheragain: "Roddy, I don't want to defend myself--it's the very last thing Ican try to do--I only want to tell you--all three of you--exactly thetruth. You know, Roddy, that when I said I'd marry you it wasn't aquestion of love between us at all. We had that out quite straight fromthe beginning. I was awfully young: I wanted safety and protection andso I took you. You rather wanted me, and grandmother wanted you to marryme, and so there you were too. Then I met my cousin--I'd heard about himsince I'd been a baby and he'd heard about me. We had a lot in common,tastes and dislikes--all kinds of things. We met and he stirred in meall those things that you, Roddy, had never touched. I had foundmarriage wasn't the freedom I had thought that it would be. I was fondof you, you were fond of me, but there was something always therejogging both of us--just putting us out of patience with one another.Things got worse. You never could explain what you felt. I tried, butthe whole trouble wouldn't go into words somehow.
"Francis and I wrote to one another a little and then one day--asgrandmamma has so kindly told you--(here her voice was sharp for amoment)--I went to his rooms." Rachel stopped. She was looking straightin front of her, her hands clenched. She seemed to dive deep forcourage, to remain for an instant struggling, then to rise with it inher hands. Her voice was strong and unfaltering. "We found that we lovedone another. We told each other ... it seemed to Francis then that theonly thing was for us to go away together. But I refused. Odd though itmay seem, Roddy, I cared for you then more than I'd ever cared for youbefore, and I think it's gone on since then, getting stronger always. Iwouldn't go and I wouldn't see Francis again and we weren't to writeagain--unless I found that our living together, Roddy--you and I--washopeless. Then I said I'd go to him."
Her voice sank and faltered--"There did come a day when I thoughtthat--we couldn't get on any longer. You know what finally ... LizzieRand found out. She knew that I intended to go away with Francis. Shefought to prevent it--she was splendid about it, splendid! Wequarrelled, and in the middle of it, came your accident.... I wroteafterwards to Francis and told him that it was all over--absolutely--forever. Since then--only once...." She broke off, recovered: "Since thenthere's been nothing--no letter, no meeting--nothing. My whole life nowis wrapped up in you, Roddy, and Francis knows that. I've told you thewhole truth!" She turned from him, fiercely, round to her grandmother."I don't know what _you_ told Roddy, what you made him believe--you'vewanted, always, to harm me with Roddy if you could. At least, now, youcan't tell him more than I've done."
The Duchess stared first at Rachel, then at Roddy. She had behaved fromthe beginning as though Breton did not exist.
Some of her amiability had left her. Her lips were tightly drawntogether as she listened and her rings tapped one against the other.
"This is all rather tiresome," she said sharply. "Very like you, Rachel,to do these things in public. You get that from your mother. But you'restrangely lacking in humour. It all comes from my own very unfortunateremark the other day. Not like you, Roddy dear, to arrange this kind ofthing. Stupid ... distinctly--I'm sure now, however, that you'resatisfied. Rachel's certainly been very frank--and now perhaps we mightleave it."
It was then that Francis Breton came forward into the middle of theroom, his face grey with anger, something suddenly unrestrained andsavage in his eyes so that the room was filled with a wind of angryagitation.
He stood in front of his grandmother, but turned his head, sharply, nowand again, round to Roddy. So agitated was he that his words came inlittle gasps, flung out, in little bundles together, and strangelyaccented as though he were speaking in a language that was strange tohim.
The sarcastic smile came back into the old lady's eyes and she leanedforward on her stick again, looking up into his eyes.
"I didn't know--I didn't know--that we were going to meet like this. Youdidn't know either or you wouldn't have come, but I've been waiting foryears for this. It's been nice for me, hasn't it, to sit by whilstyou've done everything to make things wretched for me, to ruin me, topush me back to where...."
Roddy's voice interrupted.
"Mr. Breton, I think you forget----"
Instantly Breton stopped. He forced control upon his voice, hestammered, "I'm ashamed--I oughtn't to have--But sitting there--notbeing allowed to speak--you must excuse me----"
He turned round to Roddy. "You must think me the most completeblackguard. It's only a climax to everything that's happened since Icame back. I don't want to defend myself, but it isn't--it isn't all sosimple as just talking about it makes it look. You're the kind of man towhom everything's just black or white--you do it or you don't--butI--I've never found that. I've been in things without knowing I've beenin them. I've done things that would have turned out straight for anyother fellow, but they've always been crooked for me. Something alwaysblinds me just when I need to see straightest. That's no excuse, butit's an awful handicap.
"I won't hide or pretend about it. Why should I? I loved Rachel. We'veonly met so little--really only that once in my rooms--that you can'tgrudge us that. We had things--heaps of things--in common long beforewe knew one another. It wasn't like any ordinary two people meeting, andI knew so well that she could make all the difference to my life that Itook the chance of knowing her even though she wasn't ever going tobelong to me. I don't think I ever really believed that I'd be the man.I know now that she's yours altogether and you ought to have her--nowthat I've seen you I know that. And last night when I faced the factthat I'd have to go all my life without her I realized what she told melong ago, that it was much better just to have my idea of her and not tohave had my regret about having spoiled anything for her. I've noconfidence in myself, you see. If I thought I were the kind of man justto carry her off and make her happy for ever and ever, then I supposeI'd have been bolder about her long ago, but I know, even if she didn'tbelong to you at all, that I should be afraid that I'd spoil her lifejust as I've always spoiled my own.
"I expect this is all very confused. It's all so difficult and you don'twant long explanations, but I'm only trying to say that you needn't everhave any fear again that I'm going to step in or try to have any part inher. We've got our things together that nobody can take from us. We'veseen each other so little that most people would say it wasn't much togive up. But things don't happen only when you're together...." Hestopped suddenly, seemed to stand there confused, turned and flung afierce, defiant look at his grandmother--exactly the glance that anangry small boy flings at someone in authority who has seen fit topunish him--then went back to his corner and stood there in the shadow,watching them all.
Even as he finished speaking he had realized finally that hisrelationship with Rachel was over, closed, done for. He had known it onthat afternoon in the park--He had realized it perhaps again in theheart of the storm last night, but now, when he had seen the soulpierce, through Rachel's eyes, to her husband, he knew that Roddy, oneway or another, had at last won her.
Moreover, to anyone as impressionable as Breton, Roddy's helplessness,his humour, his bravery had, on the score of Roddy alone, settled thematter. Breton had his fierce moments, his high inspirations, his nobleresolves!... Now, as he looked this last time upon Rachel
, his was nomean spirit.
Rachel drew a sharp breath and looked at Roddy with wide eyes, floodedwith fear. He had heard now everything that they had to say; althoughshe had watched him so closely she could not say what he would do. Asshe saw the two men there before her she felt that she knew FrancisBreton exactly, that she could tell what he would say, how he would seethings, what would anger him or surprise him.
But about Roddy she was always uncertain: she was only now, very slowly,beginning to know him, but she was sure that if Roddy were to beat hershe would care for him the more, but if Francis Breton were to beat hershe would leave him for ever.
A flush meanwhile was rising over Roddy's neck, up into his face, to thevery roots of his hair.
"It's rather beastly," he said, speaking very slowly and trying tochoose his words, "all this talkin'. I might have known, if I'd beenable to think about it, what it would be like, but there, I never did. Ihad a kind of idea that we'd all get it over sort of in five minutes andthen have tea, don't you know, and all go away comfortably. I don't feelnow that you've rightly got all that everybody thinks about it. It wasvery decent of you, Mr. Breton, to say exactly--so plainly, youknow--how you felt. But I don't want to talk a lot--I can't you know,anyhow.
"It's only this. I wanted the Duchess to hear me say, amongst ourselves,that I know _all_ about it, that we _all_ know all about it and thatthere isn't anything for anyone to talk about because there isn'tanything in it, and if I hear of anyone sayin' a word they've just gotto reckon with me. Rachel and I know one another and, Mr. Breton, I hopeyou'll go on bein' a friend of ours and come and see us often. Of courseyou and Rachel have a lot in common and it's only natural you shouldhave.
"Now Duchess, you can just tell anyone who's talkin' that Mr. Breton iswelcome here just as often as he pleases and he's a friend of mine andmy wife's--and they can jolly well shut their mouths. Thank God, all_that's_ over."
II
But he was very swiftly to realize that it was _not_ all over. Sharply,quivering through the air like an arrow from a bow, came the Duchess'swords.
"Good God, Roddy, are you completely insane?"
She was twisted, distorted with anger, she seemed to take her rage andfling it about her so that the chairs, the tables, Roddy's innocentlittle sporting sketches and even the case of birds' eggs were saturatedwith it.
The gleaming park, the peaceful evening sky, the sharp curve of anapricot-tinted moon, these things were blotted out and the noises of thetown deadened by this indignant fury. Rachel had known it in other days,to Breton it evoked long-distant nursery hours, to Roddy it wassomething utterly new and unsuspected. For the first time in his life hecaught a shadow of the terror that had darkened Rachel's young days.
To the Duchess it was simply that she now clearly discovered that shewas the victim of an elaborate plot. The three of them! Oh! she saw itall! and Roddy, Roddy--who had been the one living soul to whom her hardindependence had made concession! This came, the definite climax to theyear's accumulations, the final decision flung at her, before she died,by those two--Rachel and Breton--from whom, of all living souls, shecould endure it least.
With her rage rose her fighting spirit. She would show them, these youngfools, the kind of woman that an earlier and a finer generation thantheirs could produce!
They had more there before them than one old woman, sick and ailing, andthey should see it.
Her voice shook a little, but she gave no other sign, after that firstchallenge: her little eyes flamed from the mask of her face like candlesbehind holes in a screen.
"This is your sense of fun, Roddy, I suppose," she said. "You always_were_ lacking in that. I've told you so before. As you asked me here Isuppose you're ready for my opinion. You shall have it. I'll only askyou to cast your eye over any friend of ours: see what you would say ifthis--this idiotic folly committed by someone else had come to yourears. I suppose you'd arranged this, the three of you. Well, you shallknow what I think. Your tenderness to Rachel is magnificent--she hasobviously reckoned on it, knew that her frankness would serve her wellenough. You've already been more patient with her than men would havebeen in my day. I only hope that your patience may not be too severelytried....
"As for my grandson, to whom you have so tenderly entrusted Rachel, youracquaintance with him is quite recent, is it not? I am sure that if youwere to enquire of any man at one of your clubs he would give you quiteexcellent reasons for my grandson's long unhappy absence from hisrelations and his country. At any rate you don't know him as well as Ido. I could tell you, if you asked me, that it is a long time now sinceany decent man or woman has sought his society. Do you suppose that hisfamily have not the best of reasons for trying to forget hisexistence--an attempt that he makes unpleasantly difficult?
"Have you heard _nothing_, Roddy? Do you really want a man who has beenkicked out of society for the most excellent reasons, who has disgracedhis name as no member of his family has ever disgraced it before him,for your wife's lover? If she must have one...."
Rachel, trembling, had come forward, Roddy had cried out, but quietly,stronger than either of them, Breton had faced her. She had not,throughout the afternoon, looked at him nor spoken one word to him. Now,her anger carrying her beyond all physical control, she was compelled tomeet his gaze.
He stood very quietly beside her chair, looking at the three of them."My grandmother is wrong," he said, "I am not quite as deserted as shethinks. Just before I came here this afternoon Uncle John called uponme. I had half an hour's very pleasant talk with him: he told me that,although his mother had not altered her opinion of me, Uncle Vincent andAunt Adela and himself considered that I had earned"--he smiled alittle--"forgiveness. He hoped that I would understand that--while mygrandmother was alive--I could not be invited to 104 Portland Place, butthat he thought that I would like to know that they had realizedmy--well, improvement, and that he hoped that we would be friends. Isaid that I should be delighted."
The Duchess spoke to him then, her voice shaking so that it wasdifficult to catch her words.
"John--came--said that--to _you_?"
"Yes. It was a curious coincidence that to-day----"
Her eyes had dropped. She murmured to herself:
"John ... John ... Adela ... behind my back ... Adela ... Vincent----"
They were all silent. She sat there, her head down, leaning on herhands, brooding. Her anger seemed to have departed, her fire, her furyhad fled: she was a very old woman--and the room was suddenly chilly.Before her were Rachel and Breton: they faced the ancient enemy. But asRachel stood there, realizing that there had flashed between them theclimax of all their lives together, yes, and a climax of forces greaterand more powerful than anything that their own small histories couldcontain, she had no sense of drama nor of revenge nor of any triumphantvictory. A little while before she had been almost insane with anger....Now something had occurred. Rachel only knew that the three ofthem--Roddy, Francis and herself--were young and immensely vigorous,with all life before them; but that one day they would be old, as thisold woman, and would be deserted and sick and past anyone's need ofthem.
"Oh! I wish we hadn't! I wish we hadn't!" she thought.
In that moment's silence they all might have heard the sound of thesoft, sharp click--the click that marked the supreme moment of theirrelationship to the situation that had, for all of them, been so longdeveloping--
Breton surrendered Rachel, Roddy received her, and, beyond them all, theDuchess definitely abandoned her world.
For them all, grouped there so closely together, the heart of theirrelations the one to the other had been revealed to them.
Other dramas, other comedies, other tragedies--This had claimed itsmoment and had passed....
After the silence the Duchess said, "My family--I no longer...." Shestopped, collected, with all her will, her words, then in a low voicesaid, looking at Breton, "I owe you, I suppose--an apology. I owe thatperhaps to you all. My children are wiser in their own generation.
I nolonger understand--the way things go--all too confused for my poorintelligence." She pulled herself together as an old ship rights itselfafter a roller's stinging blow. "This has lasted long enough.... We'veall talked--My family are--wiser--it seems."
But she could not go on. "Please, Roddy," she said at length, "I thinkit's time--if you'd ring."
"I'm sorry----" he said and then stopped.
Soon Peters and a footman appeared. She leaned heavily upon them and,staring before her at the door, slowly went out.