Lady Rose's Daughter Part 18

And drawing Julie to a chair, the little d.u.c.h.ess sat down beside her, holding her friend's hands and studying her face.

"Tell me what's been happening--I believe you've been crying! Oh, the old wretch!"

"You're quite mistaken," said Julie, smiling. "Lady Henry says I may help you with the bazaar."

"No!" The d.u.c.h.ess threw up her hands in amazement. "How have you managed that?"

"By giving in. But, Evelyn, I'm not coming."

"Oh, Julie!" The d.u.c.h.ess threw herself back in her chair and fixed a pair of very blue and very reproachful eyes on Miss Le Breton.

"No, I'm not coming. If I'm to stay here, even for a time, I mustn't provoke her any more. She says I may come, but she doesn't mean it."

"She couldn't mean anything civil or agreeable. How has she been behaving--since Sunday?"

Julie looked uncertain.

"Oh, there is an armed truce. I was made to have a fire in my bedroom last night. And Hutton took the dogs out yesterday."

The d.u.c.h.ess laughed.

"And there was quite a scene on Sunday? You don't tell me much about it in your letter. But, Julie"--her voice dropped to a whisper--"was anything said about Jacob?"

Julie looked down. A bitterness crept into her face.

"Yes. I can't forgive myself. I was provoked into telling the truth."

"You did! Well? I suppose Aunt Flora thought it was all your fault that he proposed, and an impertinence that you refused?"

"She was complimentary at the time," said Julie, half smiling. "But since--No, I don't feel that she is appeased."

"Of course not. Affronted, more likely."

There was a silence. The d.u.c.h.ess was looking at Julie, but her thoughts were far away. And presently she broke out, with the _etourderie_ that became her:

"I wish I understood it myself, Julie. I know you like him."

"Immensely. But--we should fight!"

Miss Le Breton looked up with animation.

"Oh, that's not a reason," said the d.u.c.h.ess, rather annoyed.

"It's _the_ reason. I don't know--there is something of _iron_ in Mr.

Delafield;" and Julie emphasized the words with a shrug which was almost a s.h.i.+ver. "And as I'm not in love with him, I'm afraid of him."

"That's the best way of being in love," cried the d.u.c.h.ess. "And then, Julie"--she paused, and at last added, navely, as she laid her little hands on her friend's knee--"haven't you got _any_ ambitions?"

"Plenty. Oh, I should like very well to play the d.u.c.h.ess, with you to instruct me," said Julie, caressing the hands. "But I must choose my duke. And till the right one appears, I prefer my own wild ways."

"Afraid of Jacob Delafield? How odd!" said the d.u.c.h.ess, with her chin on her hands.

"It may be odd to you," said Julie, with vivacity. "In reality, it's not in the least odd. There's the same quality in him that there is in Lady Henry--something that beats you down," she added, under her breath.

"There, that's enough about Mr. Delafield--quite enough."

And, rising, Julie threw up her arms and clasped her hands above her head. The gesture was all strength and will, like the stretching of a sea-bird's wings.

The d.u.c.h.ess looked at her with eyes that had begun to waver.

"Julie, I heard such an odd piece of news last night."

Julie turned.

"You remember the questions you asked me about Aileen Moffatt?"

"Perfectly."

"Well, I saw a man last night who had just come home from Simla. He saw a great deal of her, and he says that she and her mother were adored in India. They were thought so quaint and sweet--unlike other people--and the girl so lovely, in a sort of gossamer way. And who do you think was always about with them--at Peshawar first, and then at Simla--so that everybody talked? Captain Warkworth! My man believed there was an understanding between them."

Julie had begun to fill the flower-gla.s.ses with water and unpack the flower-basket. Her back was towards the d.u.c.h.ess. After a moment she replied, her hands full of forced narcissuses:

"Well, that would be a _coup_ for him."

"I should think so. She is supposed to have half a million in coal-mines alone, besides land. Has Captain Warkworth ever said anything to you about them?"

"No. He has never mentioned them."

The d.u.c.h.ess reflected, her eyes still on Julie's back.

"Everybody wants money nowadays. And the soldiers are just as bad as anybody else. They don't _look_ money, as the City men do--that's why we women fall in love with them--but they _think_ it, all the same."

Julie made no reply. The d.u.c.h.ess could see nothing of her. But the little lady's face showed the flutter of one determined to venture yet a little farther on thin ice.

"Julie, I've done everything you've asked me. I sent a card for the 20th to that _rather_ dreadful woman, Lady Froswick. I was very clever with Freddie about that living; and I've talked to Mr. Montresor. But, Julie, if you don't mind, I really should like to know why you're so keen about it?"

The d.u.c.h.ess's cheeks were by now one flush. She had a romantic affection for Julie, and would not have offended her for the world.

Julie turned round. She was always pale, and the d.u.c.h.ess saw nothing unusual.

"Am I so keen?"

"Julie, you have done everything in the world for this man since he came home."

"Well, he interested me," said Julie, stepping back to look at the effect of one of the vases. "The first evening he was here, he saved me from Lady Henry--twice. He's alone in the world, too, which attracts me. You see, I happen to know what it's like. An only son, and an orphan, and no family interest to push him--"

"So you thought you'd push him? Oh, Julie, you're a darling--but you're rather a wire-puller, aren't you?"

Julie smiled faintly.