Capricious Caroline Part 9

"Oh! what an a.s.s I am! If Agnes sees red eyes, she will want to know all there is to know. I can imagine her expression if I were to explain I had been crying about Ned!... that blackguard Ned!" She laughed in an impatient stifled way. "We must go somewhere to-night," she said a moment later; "I shall die boxed up at home. Why shouldn't we dine somewhere and then go on to a music-hall!"

As she got out of the cab she dropped the envelope Haverford had given her. She picked it up hurriedly, and her train of thought was changed swiftly; a sudden sense of delicious independence thrilled her. The man whom she feared, and the man who had shown her such chivalrous generosity, and the man she had married and lost, pa.s.sed from her thoughts. She felt as if she were in suns.h.i.+ne. The cheque was blank!

She had not expected that; there were no limits to her intentions.

"I shall give Veronique something on account; that will stop the writ,"

she said as she pa.s.sed into the house. "And the children shall have new coats, dear souls; they have been looking _so_ shabby lately. Then I shall get out my pearls and some of my rings and things first thing to-morrow...."

In the hall there were some cards, a splendid basket of flowers, and a square, white-coated packet. Camilla loved to find white packages and letters and flowers waiting for her.

She s.h.i.+vered as she remembered the cold perfection of the hall she had just left.

Sir Samuel's card was attached to the basket and the box of bonbons, and he had left a note. Camilla read this and ran upstairs quickly.

"Agnes," she called gaily, putting her head in at the door of the drawing-room, "Sammy wants us to dine with him and go afterwards to the play. We shall just have time to change. What a bother you have to go out to dress! Why not let me send for your things?"

Mrs. Brenton shook her head.

"Oh no. I will trot round to my rooms. As a matter of fact, I was just going. Will you call for me, Camilla? The children are just asleep.

They tried to keep awake till you came, but they were too tired...."

Camilla threw off her furs and cloak in her room, and then stole upstairs softly till she reached the nursery. All was still. The two small bodies in the two small cots never stirred as she approached.

Mrs. Lancing bent over each child and lightly laid a hand as in benediction on each little head. Then she paused a moment before Betty's small altar. The child had arranged it carefully before going to bed, there were white flowers in the tiny bra.s.s vases, and the red light burning before the statue of the Virgin was the only light in the room.

Camilla shut her eyes. She never remembered any prayers; but Betty had just knelt there, and the child's prayers had hallowed the place; they seemed to carry the mother's soul with them--just a little way.

As the nurse came into the room, Mrs. Lancing turned and, with her finger on her lip, went noiselessly from the room.

She dressed for dinner in a happy mood.

Haverford's cheque was locked up in her dressing case. She had not settled yet what sum she would inscribe on it. Certainly a small sum would be useless. So she mused as she ordered her maid to bring her the flowers Sir Samuel had sent, and she chose a few to wear as a breast-knot.

"What is a thousand to him, or, for the matter of that, two?" she queried. "And even two will not go very far. Well, that is for to-morrow."

She pinned the flowers in her bodice and smiled at her reflection.

It was delightful not to spend a dull evening at home, and really she was just in the mood for a good dinner!

CHAPTER IV

Though he had had short notice, Haverford managed to get together a few interesting men for dinner the following evening.

The greater part of the large house was not open, but enough was seen to impress and delight Mrs. Brenton.

She admired everything.

"I am full of envy," she said to him.

"So am I," said Camilla. "I want everything I see here, your servants especially. How _do_ you bachelor people always manage to get such good servants? That man of yours, Harper, is a perfect treasure. He is a sort of Monte Cristo--nothing seems difficult or impossible to him. I believe if I were to call him now and say to him, 'Harper, will you please give me the Earth?' he would answer in that quiet way of his, 'I have just put it in your carriage, madam.'"

She was all in white to-night, and looked languid and pensive. Rupert Haverford asked her once if she were tired; she nodded her head.

"Just a little; but that is my own fault. I have been skating at Prince's all the afternoon," she explained. "I wondered if you would come there by any chance. You must promise to go with me one day. It is really rather fun, and it gives one some exercise."

She was sitting in the place of honour. Mrs. Brenton and she were the only ladies.

"Don't send us away," said Camilla, when coffee was brought in; "please smoke, all of you. Agnes doesn't mind--do you, Agnes? and I love it."

As the liqueurs were being handed to him, Haverford's man addressed him confidentially.

"Could I speak to you, sir?" he asked.

Mr. Haverford looked upwards; the request was unusual; then he just nodded his head.

"All right, I'll come to you in a minute."

He waited a little while, and then, when the conversation was general, and there was a movement from the dining-room, with a murmured excuse to his two women guests, he left them.

Harper was waiting for him.

"What is the matter, Harper?" he asked impatiently enough.

"I'm sorry to bring you away, sir," said the man, "but there's a young person that wants to see you, sir. I told her that you'd friends to dinner, but she wouldn't be sent away. Says she must see you. She came quite a hour ago. I put her in your study. She's come from Mrs.

Baynhurst, I think, sir," the man added. "I asked her to tell me what she wanted, but she wouldn't do it. Insisted that she must speak to you yourself, sir."

Rupert Haverford gave a few orders to the man about having certain rooms lit up for Mrs. Brenton to see, and then went along the broad pa.s.sage to the room where he usually sat and smoked and worked.

The girl who awaited him was standing by the fire. She turned as the door opened.

He had seen her once before, and recognized her as his mother's secretary.

Naturally his thoughts flew at once to his mother.

"Is anything wrong?" he asked. "Have you news from Paris? Do you want me?"

Caroline Graniger looked at him steadily.

She was a tall slip of a girl, with a thin, colourless face, and very large, impressive eyes.

Her dress was shabby and meagre; she looked, indeed, as if she had scarcely enough on for such a cold, raw night.

"I don't know whether I ought to have come to you, Mr. Haverford," she said, "but I'm in great trouble, and as I've no one to whom I can go, and I don't quite know what to do, I thought of you."

She spoke in a staccato kind of way. The voice was rather disagreeable to Haverford.