What a Man Wills Part 7

Juliet looked as she felt, fl.u.s.tered, and taken aback.

"It's so--sudden!" she pleaded, and blushed as she said the word. "I--I don't approve of marrying in a rush. Only two months before he sails.

Suppose he regretted it? S-suppose he changed his mind?"

"It's for him to answer that question! Speak up, Antony! Are you likely to change your mind? Do you feel any inclination to give up Miss Clare now that you have got her to promise to take you for better for worse?"

"I'm not given to changing my mind, sir," Antony said, discreetly answering the last question but one. He rose hastily as he spoke, evidently afraid lest his turn of cross-questioning was about to begin, and said hurriedly: "Clare is tired, Uncle. She'll answer all your questions later on. I'm going to take her into the garden for a little fresh air, and then send her upstairs to rest."

So for the next half-hour Antony Maplestone and Juliet, alias Alice, Clare, sat in a rose-shaded arbour, and discussed the plan of attack.

There was so much to be settled. It was like making up a play, and coaching each other in the leading parts. Juliet was inclined to give herself airs on the success of her first scene, and discovered with surprise that her companion vouchsafed only a mitigated admiration.

"You must be very _used_ to it!" he said grudgingly whereupon Juliet bridled, and declared:

"I'm not! It's the very first case I've had, when--All my experiences so far, have been strictly business-like. I think you might give me _some_ encouragement. I thought I was so clever!"

"You were, you were! Uncommonly clever, and I felt all sorts of a fool.

I'm not used to playing a part, and it comes harder than I expected.

It's a comfort to escape and feel that we can talk openly together!" He stretched his arms, and drew a big sigh of relief. Juliet sighed too, but not for the same reason.

"I think it might be a wise precaution," she said presently, "if I sent my parents abroad to travel for several months! Mrs Maplestone spoke of wis.h.i.+ng to see them, and it would be awkward to produce a suitable pair at a moment's notice. And dangerous! Think of the pitfalls that would yawn before us over reminiscences of childhood? Perhaps they'd better go for health! That would explain their leaving home just at this time. We must send them to a foreign spa for a six-weeks' course.

Where shall they go?"

"Marienbad," Antony said promptly, whereon Juliet drew herself up haughtily, and put on an air of offence.

"No aspersions, if you please. _My_ parents are thin! It shall be rheumatism, I think. That's quite ordinary and eminently respectable.

They might _both_ have it, if it comes to that."

But Antony objected.

"No. Not both! That's too drastic. My uncle would certainly object that you would inherit a tendency. Only your father! A recent attack..."

"Just so; and they are anxious to take it in time. Mother goes with him, as they are a devoted couple and couldn't endure to be parted for six weeks. Mud baths, I think. There's such a sound of verisimilitude about mud baths! I think we must really decide on mud baths."

"Poor beggar, yes! I'm afraid there's no help for him. Where are they, by the way? I've no idea. Have you?"

"Oh, yes. They are in Germany somewhere. Or is it Italy? Somewhere about that part of the world," Juliet said vaguely, whereupon Antony took out his pocket-book and wrote down a memorandum.

"A dutiful daughter ought to have her parents' address! I'll find that out before dinner. As a matter of fact, I don't think my uncle will trouble his head about your relations. There would have been the d.i.c.kens to pay if he had not approved of you, but he was quite unusually amiable, took to you at first sight, and the aunt too. It went off far better than I expected."

"Just let me be quite clear on one point," Juliet demanded. "Am I nice, and amiable, and meek, or am I das.h.i.+ng and sportive?"

"Neither one nor the other, a useful blend. Don't worry about that.

You are perfectly all right as you are."

"And--just as a guide for moments of expansion--_might_ it be 'Tony'?"

"Tony it must be. Most decidedly Tony." His voice was brisk with decision. The brown eyes brightened in antic.i.p.ation. "Perhaps even occasionally, 'Dear.'"

"Oh, no!" Juliet shook her head obstinately. "No 'dears'! I've been strictly brought up. I'm shy. _No_ demonstrations in public. I've no brothers, you see, and have led a secluded life."

"Yes, yes, there's Phil; you must remember Phil. It was your brother Phil who introduced us at Henley. You were staying with friends."

"I _have_ friends near Henley. Their name is Jones. Can you remember Jones? Mr Jones, solicitor; Mrs Jones; Miss Jones; Miss Florence Jones; Mr Reginald Jones, son, junior partner."

"Just so. Reginald, of course, is Philip's friend. Phil is, like myself, home on leave. That simplifies things for you. By the by, he is in China, in the Customs."

"Poor dear Philip; with all these horrid riots. I _do_ feel anxious about him!" sighed naughty Juliet in response; then, suddenly, "I wonder," she had cried soberly, "if I _ought_! I hate to deceive people, even for their own good. I wonder if I ought to go on."

"But surely"--he stared at her in amazement--"it's your _profession_!

It would be impossible to do inquiry work if people knew from the beginning what you were about. Why did you--excuse me--choose such a profession if your conscience is so tender?"

"I--I didn't realise. It was arranged in a hurry. I don't think I shall take any more cases."

"No, don't!" Antony cried eagerly. "It's all right this time, for you have fallen among people who will treat you properly, but it might be so different. Haven't you a home where you can live safely and comfortably?"

"Very comfortably indeed, but I happen to be one of the horde of superfluous women who need something more than comfort."

Antony looked at her curiously at that, but he had asked no questions.

Juliet was thankful for his silence; for the absence of obvious compliments. The situation would be intolerable with a man of another type. With Maplestone one had a comfortable feeling of security--a very comfortable feeling. Juliet fell asleep that night with a smile on her lips.

For three days all went well, the Squire approving, his wife motherly, Antony chivalrous and attentive. Whatever the real experience might be, Juliet was satisfied that pretending to be engaged was an agreeable sensation. Morning and afternoon Antony drove her abroad, sat with her in the rose garden, or escorted her on long walks over the countryside, and soon, wonderfully soon, there was no further need of coaching between them, for the lives of each, and the experiences thereof, the hopes, aspirations, and rebuffs, had been spread as in an opened book before the eyes of the other, with just one reservation on Juliet's side, the disclosure of her own ident.i.ty!

"I have had an adventurous life. The one thing I have not had to complain of is monotony," said Antony.

"And I have had nothing else. Until recently I have gone on, year after year, existing, not living, in the same little rut."

"No wonder you broke loose. A girl like you was never made for stagnation. You ought to travel: to see the world. I never met a woman with so keen an appreciation of beauty. Gad! how you would enjoy India, and the scenery we have over there. Last year we were stationed in the north, above Darjeeling. I'd like to blindfold you, and take you to a spot I know, and then take off the bandage, and show you--the snows!

That would be a moment worth living for."

"Ah, yes. Unfortunately, however, the climate of India is prejudicial to my health," Juliet reminded him primly.

"Oh, hang the climate of India!" cried Antony Maplestone.

The Squire also was inclined to "hang" the Indian climate in its bearing upon the health of his guest. He cross-questioned his prospective niece upon the subject with increasing irritability.

"What's the matter with your health? You look strong enough. Can't have a liver with that complexion. Can't have a heart, rus.h.i.+ng about all day long. Given it away, eh, what? Antony, what's wrong with her heart?"

"Nothing, sir. It's a tip-top heart; in first-cla.s.s working condition."

"What's wrong, then--what's wrong? Nothing but nerves and nonsense. If I were a young man and my fiancee didn't care enough about me to face a bit of discomfort, I'd--I'd comfort myself with the first nice girl that _would_! If you let him go off to India alone, young lady, you'll have yourself to thank if you are left in the lurch."

Juliet took out her handkerchief and pretended to cry. It was a comfort to be able to hide one's face, and besides, just between herself and the handkerchief there _was_ a tear. She _would_ be left in the lurch, and, oh, my goodness, how dull it would be!

From the end of the room sounded three separate gasps of consternation.

"Leave heroine, uncle! It's my affair. Clare, _don't_ cry!"