The Duchess of Wrexe Part 78

And yet was not this readiness on his part to forgive her sprung from his conviction that she would have told him had she had so much to confess to him? Let her relations with Breton remain uncertain and s.h.i.+fting, then she might have found justification for her silence; let them once have found so definite a climax and she must have spoken--Roddy had indeed advanced in his knowledge both of her and himself since two years ago.

By the early afternoon he was in a pitiable state. Should he send notes to the d.u.c.h.ess and Breton telling them both that he was too unwell, too cross, too sleepy, too "anything" to see them? Should he retire to bed and leave Peters to make his excuses? Should he disappear and tell Rachel to deal with them? _What_ a scene there'd be between the three of them!

His illness had made a difference to his nerve, lying there on one's back took the grit away, gave one too much time to think, showed one such momentous issues.

On the events of this afternoon might hang all his life and all Rachel's!

His capture of her was indeed now to be put to the test!...

II

Rachel came into his room at four o'clock. She carried a great bunch of violets and a paper parcel.

She smiled across the room at him; a cap of white fur on her head, and the hand with the violets held also a large white m.u.f.f.

"Roddy--I'm coming to have tea with you--alone. You'll be out to everyone, won't you? But first, see what I've brought you."

She was dreadfully excited, he thought, as though she knew already the kind of thing that awaited her. Her smile was nervous, and that trembling of her upper lip, as though she would, perhaps, cry and perhaps would laugh but really was not sure, always told him when she was afraid.

"See what I've brought you!" She put the violets down upon the table beside him--"Now! Look!" She undid the paper and held up to his gaze a deep, gleaming silver l.u.s.tre bowl, a beautiful bowl because of its instant friendliness and richness and completeness--"I found it!" she said, "staring at me out of a shop window, demanding to be bought. I thought you'd like it."

She put it on his table, found water and filled it, then arranged the violets in it.

"Oh! my dear! it's beautiful!" he said, and then, with his eyes fixed upon her face, watched her arrange the flowers. But he brought out at last, "I'm afraid I can't promise to be alone for tea."

"Oh!" she stepped back from the flowers and looked at him. They faced one another, the silver bowl between them. She stood, as she always did, when she had something difficult to face, her long hands straight at her side, her hands slowly closing and unclosing, her eyes fixed upon some far distance.

"Roddy, please!" she said, "I do want to be alone with you this afternoon. I have a special, very special reason. I want to talk."

"You see----" he said.

"No," she cried impatiently. "We _must_ have this afternoon to ourselves. Tell Peters that you're too ill, too tired, anything. I'm sure, after all that storm last night, it would be perfectly natural if you were. Now, please, Roddy."

"I'm awfully sorry, Rachel dear. If I'd only known. If you'd only told me last night."

"I didn't know myself last night. How could I? But now--it's most awfully important, Roddy. I've--I've something to tell you."

His heart beat thickly, his eyes shone.

"Well, they won't stay long, I dare say."

"Who are they?"

"Oh! n.o.body--special. Friends----"

"Then if they _aren't special_ put them off. Roddy dear, I beg you----"

"No, Rachel, I can't----"

"Well--you might----" For a moment it seemed that she would be angry.

Then suddenly she smiled, shrugged her shoulders--at last, moved across and touched the violets; then, with a little gesture, bent down and kissed him.

"Well, my dear, of course you will have your way. But am I to be allowed to come or are these mysterious friends of yours too private--too secret?"

"Not a bit of it. I want you to come."

"I'll go and take my things off. I hope they'll come soon; I'm dying for tea, I've had such a tiring day, and last night----"

"How was last night? You haven't had time to tell me."

She was by the door, but she turned and faced him. "Oh! I was so silly.

The weather upset me and I went and fainted at Lady Carloes'."

"Fainted!" His voice was instantly sharp with anxiety.

"Yes--in the middle of dinner. _Such_ a scene and Uncle Richard thought I let down the family dreadfully."

"I hope you went straight to bed--Ah! that was why you saw Christopher this morning!"

"Yes, that was why! No, I didn't come straight back last night--I went round to Lizzie's--I was frightened and felt that I couldn't come back all alone."

They were both of them instantly aware that someone else lived at 24 Saxton Square beside Miss Rand. There was a sharp little pause, during which they both of them heard their hearts say: "Oh! I hope you aren't going to let _that_ little thing matter!"

Then Roddy said--"Well, dear. I'm jolly glad you _did_ go to Lizzie. I hate your fainting like that. What did Christopher say this morning?"

"Oh! nothing--I'll tell you later."

She was gone.

When she returned Peters was bringing in the tea and they could exchange no word. The spring was beginning, already the evenings were longer and a pale glow, orange-coloured, lingered in the sky and lit the green of the park with dim radiance. Within the room the fire crackled, the silver shone, the l.u.s.tre bowl was glowing--

Rachel went across to the table, then staring out at the evening light said, "Roddy, who _are_ your visitors?"

Peters answered her question by opening the door and announcing--

"Mr. Breton, my lady."

III

She took it with a composure that was simply panic frozen into stillness. She saw him come, straight from the square immobility of Peters, out to meet her, noticed that he looked "most horribly ill" and that his eyes cowered, as it were, behind their lashes, as though they feared a blow--she saw him catch the picture of her, hold her for an instant whilst his cheeks flooded with colour, then all expression left him; he walked towards her as though the real Francis Breton, after that first glance had turned and left the room, and only the lifeless husk of him remained.

For herself, after the word from Peters, her mind had flown to Roddy. He knew everything--there could no longer be doubt of that--but oh! how she turned furiously now upon the indecision that had allowed to surrender her courage and her self-respect! With that she wondered what it was that her grandmother had told him. Perhaps he believed worse than the truth. Perhaps he thought that nothing too bad....

And what, after all, did he intend to do? This meeting had sprung from some arranged plan and he had, doubtless, now, some end in view. Had he meditated some vengeance upon Breton? At all costs, he must be protected.

Meanwhile Breton had, apparently, taken it for granted that she had known about his coming.