The Wicked Marquis Part 51

Let.i.tia sat up, revived. She was still very pale, and there was something terrible in her face.

"For heaven's sake," she begged, "bring this wretched melodrama to an end. Turn that poor man out," she added, pointing to David. "His story is quite true."

Every one had gone except the Marquis and Grantham. Neither of them spoke for several moments. Then the Marquis, as though he were awaking from a dream, moved to the door, opened it and beckoned to David.

"Will you follow me," he invited.

Very slowly they pa.s.sed along the great corridor, down the broad stairs and into the hall. The Marquis led the way to the front door and opened it. Neither had spoken. To Thain, every moment was a moment of agony. The Marquis held the door open and stood on one side. David realised that he was expected to depart without a word.

"There is nothing more I can say?" he faltered despairingly.

The Marquis stood upon his own threshold. He spoke slowly and with a curious lack of expression.

"Nothing. It is the times that are to blame. We open our houses and offer our hospitality to servants and the sons of servants, and we expect them to understand our code. We are very foolish.--Since you have broken this silence, let me spare myself the necessity of further words. If your contrition is genuine, you will break the lease of Broomleys and depart from this neighbourhood without further delay. My agent will wait upon you."

Without haste, yet before any reply was possible, the Marquis had closed the great door. David was once more in the darkness, staggering as though his knees would give way. The avenue stretched unevenly before him. He started off towards Broomleys.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV

At a few minutes after nine, the following morning, the Marquis entered the room where breakfast was usually served. The d.u.c.h.ess, in travelling clothes and a hat, was lifting the covers from the silver dishes upon the sideboard, with a fork in her hand. She welcomed him a little shortly.

"Good morning, Reginald!"

"Good morning, Caroline," he replied. "Are you the only representative of the household?"

She snorted.

"Charlie Grantham went off in his little two-seater at eight o'clock this morning," she announced. "He is motoring up to town. Left apologies with Gossett, I believe--telegram or something in the night.

All fiddlesticks, of course!"

"Naturally," the Marquis a.s.sented, helping himself from one of the dishes and drawing his chair up to his sister's side. "So exit Charles Grantham, eh?"

"And me," the d.u.c.h.ess declared, returning to her place and pouring out the coffee. "I suppose you can send me to Fakenham for the ten o'clock train?"

The Marquis considered for a moment.

"I am not sure, Caroline," he said, "that your departure is entirely kind."

"Well, I'm jolly certain I don't mean it to be," she answered bitterly.

"I ask no questions, and I hate scenes. A week ago I should have scoffed at the idea of David Thain as a prospective suitor for Let.i.tia.

Now, my advice to you is, the sooner you can get them married, the better."

"Really!" he murmured. "You've given up the idea, then, of taking the young man to Scotland?"

"Entirely," the d.u.c.h.ess a.s.sured him emphatically. "I was an idiot to ever consider it. When people of his cla.s.s find their way amongst us, disaster nearly always follows. You see, they don't know the rules of the game, as we play it. Whilst we are on this subject, Reginald, what are you going to do about it?"

The Marquis unlocked his letter case and shook out the contents.

"You mean about last night?" he asked. "Well, as I don't want to be the laughing-stock of the county, I shall keep as quiet as I can. I knew that something ridiculous would happen, with that poor lunatic sitting in the garden, poring over the Bible all day long."

The d.u.c.h.ess looked distinctly malicious.

"I am not at all as sure as I should like to be," she said, "that the old man is to blame for everything."

The Marquis looked at his sister intently. She bent over the milk jug.

"You leave me in some doubt, Caroline," he observed coldly, "as to what frame of mind you are in, when you make such utterly incomprehensible remarks and curtail your visit to us so suddenly. At the same time, I hope that whatever your private feelings may be, you will not forget certain--shall I call them obligations?"

"Oh, don't be afraid!" she rejoined. "I am not likely to advertise my folly, especially at Let.i.tia's expense. I don't care a jot whether the young man came through a hole in the wall or dropped down from the clouds. I only know that his presence in Let.i.tia's bedchamber--"

"We will drop the discussion, if you please," the Marquis interrupted.

There was just the one note in his tone, an inheritance, perhaps, from those more virile ancestors, which reduced even his sister to silence.

The Marquis adjusted his eyegla.s.s and commenced a leisurely inspection of his letters. He did so without any anxiety, without the slightest premonition of evil. Even when he recognised her handwriting, he did so with a little thrill of pleasurable antic.i.p.ation. He drew the letter closer to him and with a word of excuse turned away towards the window. Perhaps she was wanting him. After all, it would be quite easy to run up to London for a day--and wonderfully pleasant. He drew the single sheet from its envelope. The letters seemed magnified. The whole significance of those cruel words seemed to reach him with a single mental effort.

Reginald, I was married to James Borden this morning. I suppose it is the uncivilised part of me which has been pulling at my heartstrings, day by day, week by week, the savage in me clamouring for its right before it is too late.

So we change positions, only whereas you have atoned and justified every one of your actions towards me since our eyes first met, I am left without any means of atonement.

Will you forgive?

Your very humble and penitent MARCIA.

The Marquis replaced the letter in the envelope. For several moments he stood looking across the park, beyond, to the well-cultivated farms rolling away to the distant line of hills. His brain was numbed.

Marcia had gone!--There was a mist somewhere. He rubbed the windowpane, in vain. Then he set his teeth, and his long, nervous fingers gripped at his throat for a moment.

"Your coffee is getting cold," his sister reminded him.

He came back to his place. She watched him a little curiously.

"Any message from our pseudo-Lothario?" she asked.

The Marquis gathered up his other letters.

"There is nothing here from him," he said, "but I must ask you to excuse me, Caroline. There is an urgent matter which needs my attention."

He crossed the room a little more slowly than usual, and his sister, who was still watching him critically, sighed. There was no doubt at all that his walk was becoming the walk of an old man. The stoop of the shoulders was also a new thing. She counted up his age on her fingers, and, rising from her place, looked at herself in the mirror opposite. Her face for a moment was hard and set, and her fingers clenched.

"Years!" she muttered to herself. "How I hate them!"

The Marquis selected a grey Homburg hat of considerable antiquity, and a thicker stick than usual, from the rack in the hall. The front doors stood wide open, and he walked out into the pleasant suns.h.i.+ne. It was a warm morning, but twice he s.h.i.+vered as he pa.s.sed down the broad sweep of drive and, with a curious sensation of unfamiliarity, crossed the little bridge over the moat, the few yards of park, and finally approached the palings which bordered Richard Vont's domain. The mist still seemed to linger before his eyes, but through it he could see the familiar figure seated in his ancient chair, with the book upon his knee. The Marquis drew close to the side of the palings.

"Richard Vont," he began, "I have come down from Mandeleys to speak to you. Will you listen to what I have to say?"