Greatheart Part 52

Fiercely indignant, she entered the kitchen, and caught Dinah peeping at herself in the s.h.i.+ning surface of the warming-pan after having removed her hat.

"Ah, that's your game, my girl, is it?" she said. "You've come back the grand lady, have you? You've no further, use for your mother, I daresay.

She may work her fingers to the bone for all you care--or ever will care again."

Dinah whizzed round, scarlet and crestfallen. "Oh, Mother! How you startled me! I only wanted to see if--if my hair was tidy."

"And that's one of your lies," said Mrs. Bathurst, with a heavy hand on her shoulder. "They've taught you how to juggle with the truth, that's plain. Oh yes, Lady Studley that is to be, you've learnt a lot since you've been away, I can see--learnt to despise your mother, I'll lay a wager. But I'll show you she's not to be despised by a prinking minx like you. What did I send you in here for, eh?"

"To--to see to the kettle," faltered Dinah, shrinking before the stern regard of the black eyes that so mercilessly held her own.

"And there it is ready to boil over, and you haven't touched it, you worthless little hussy, you! Take that--and dare to disobey me again!"

She dealt the girl a blow with her open hand as she spoke, a swinging, pitiless blow, on the cheek, and pushed her fiercely from her.

Dinah reeled momentarily. The sudden violence of the attack bewildered her. Actually she had almost forgotten how dreadful her mother could be.

Then, recovering herself, she went to the fire and stooped over it, without a word. She had a burning sensation at the throat, and she was on the verge of pa.s.sionate tears. The memory of Isabel's parting embrace, the tender drawing of her arms only a brief half-hour before made this home-coming almost intolerable.

"What's that thing you're wearing?" demanded Mrs. Bathurst abruptly.

Dinah lifted the kettle and turned. "It is a fur-lined coat that--that he bought for me in Paris."

"Then take it off!" commanded Mrs. Bathurst. "And don't you wear it again until I give you leave! How dare you accept presents from the man before I've even seen him?"

"I couldn't help it," murmured Dinah, as she slipped off the luxurious garment that Isabel had chosen for her.

"Couldn't help it!" Bitterly Mrs. Bathurst echoed the words. "You'll say you couldn't help him falling in love with you next! As if you didn't set out to catch him, you little artful brown-faced monkey! Oh, I always knew you were crafty, for all your simple ways. Mind, I don't say you haven't done well for yourself, you have--a deal better than you deserve. But don't ever say you couldn't help it to me again! For if you do, I'll trounce you for it, do you hear? None of your coy airs for me! I won't put up with 'em. You'll behave yourself as long as you're in this house, or I'll know the reason why."

To all of which Dinah listened in set silence, telling herself with desperate insistence that it would not be for long. Sir Eustace did not mean to be kept waiting, and he would deliver her finally and for all time.

She did not know exactly why her mother was angry. She supposed she resented the idea of losing her slave. There seemed no other possible reason, for love for her she had none. Dinah knew but too cruelly well that she had been naught but an unwelcome burden from the very earliest days of her existence. Till she met Isabel, she had never known what real mother-love could be.

She wondered if her _fiance_ would notice the red mark on her cheek when she carried in the teapot; but he was holding a careless conversation with her father, and only gave her a glance and a smile.

During the meal that followed he scarcely addressed her or so much as looked her way. He treated her mother with a freezing aloofness that made her tremble inwardly. She wondered how he dared.

When at length he rose to go, however, his attention returned to Dinah.

He laid a dominating hand upon her shoulder. "Are you coming to see me off?"

She glanced at her mother in involuntary appeal, but failed to catch her eye. Silently she turned to the door.

He took leave of her parents with the indifference of one accustomed to popularity. "I shall be round in the morning," he said to her father.

"About twelve? That'll suit me very well; unless I wait till the afternoon and bring my sister. I know she hopes to come over if she is well enough. That is, of course, if you don't object to an informal call."

He spoke as if in his opinion the very fact of its informality conferred a favour, and again Dinah trembled lest her mother should break forth into open rudeness.

But to her amazement Mrs. Bathurst seemed somewhat overawed by the princely stranger. She even smiled in a grim way as she said, "I will be at home to her."

Sir Eustace made her a ceremonious bow and went out sweeping Dinah along with him. He closed the door with a decision there was no mistaking, and the next moment he had her in his arms.

"You poor little frightened mouse!" he said. "No wonder--no wonder you never knew before what life, real life, could be!"

She clung to him with all her strength, burying her face in the fur collar of his coat. "Oh, do marry me, quick--quick--quick!" she besought him, in a m.u.f.fled whisper. "And take me away!"

He gathered her close in his arms, so close that she trembled again. Her nerves were all on edge that night.

"If they won't let me have you in a month from now," he said, in a voice that quivered slightly, "I swear I'll run away with you."

There was no echo of humour in his words though she tried to laugh at them, and ever he pressed her closer and closer to his heart, till panting she had to lift her face. And then he kissed her in his pa.s.sionate compelling way, holding her shy lips with his own till he actually forced them to respond. She felt as if his love burned her, but, even so, she dared not shrink from it. There was so much at stake. Her mother's lack of love was infinitely harder to endure.

And so she bore the fierce flame of his pa.s.sion unflinching even though her spirit clamoured wildly to be free, choosing rather to be consumed by it than left a beaten slave in her house of bondage.

His kisses waked in her much more of fear than rapture. That untamed desire of his frightened her to the very depths of her being, but yet it was infinitely preferable to the haughty indifference with which he regarded all the rest of the world. It meant that he would not let her go, and that in itself was comfort unspeakable to Dinah. He meant to have her at any price, and she was very badly in need of deliverance, even though she might have to pay for it, and pay heavily.

It was at this point, actually while his fiery kisses were scorching her lips, that a very strange thought crept all unawares into her consciousness. If she ever needed help, if she ever needed escape, she had a friend to whom she could turn--a staunch and capable friend who would never fail her. She was sure that Scott would find a way to ease the burden if it became too heavy. Her faith in him, his wisdom, his strength, was unbounded. And he helped everyone--the valiant servant Greatheart, protector of the helpless, sustainer of the vanquished.

When her lover was gone at last, she closed the door and leaned against it, feeling weak in every fibre.

Bathurst, coming out a few moments later, was struck by her spent look.

"Well, Dinah la.s.s," he said lightly, "you look as if it had cost something of an effort to land your catch. But he's a mighty fine one, I will say that for him."

She went to him, twining her arm in his, forcing herself to smile. "Oh, Dad," she said, "he is fine, isn't he?" But--but--she uttered the words almost in spite of herself--"you should see his brother. You should see--Scott."

"What? Is he finer still?" laughed Bathurst, pinching her cheek. "Have you got the whole family at your feet, you little baggage?"

She flushed very deeply. "Oh no! Oh no! I didn't mean that. Scott--Scott is not a bit like that. He is--he is--" And there she broke off, for who could hope to convey any faithful impression of this good friend of hers?

There were no words that could adequately describe him. With a little sigh she turned from the subject. "I'm glad you like Eustace," she said shyly.

Bathurst laughed a little, then bent unexpectedly, and kissed her. "It's a case of Cinderella and the prince," he said lightly. "But the luck isn't all on Cinderella's side, I'm thinking."

She clung to him eagerly. "Oh, Daddy, thank you! Thank you! Do you know--it's funny--Scott used to call me Cinderella!"

Bathurst crooked his brows quizzically. "How original of him! This Scott seems to be quite a wonderful person. And what was your pet name for him I wonder, eh, sly-boots?"

She laughed in evident embarra.s.sment. There was something implied in her father's tone that made her curiously reluctant to discuss her hero. And yet, in justification of the man himself, she felt she must say something.

"His brother and sister call him--Stumpy," she said, "because he is little and he limps. But I--" her face was as red as the hunting-coat against which it nestled--"I called him--Mr. Greatheart. He is--just like that."

Mr. Bathurst laughed again, tweaking her ear. "Altogether an extraordinary family!" he commented. "I must meet this Mr. Stumpy Greatheart. Now suppose you run upstairs and turn on the hot water. And when you've done that, you can take my boots down to the kitchen to dry.

And mind you don't fall foul of your mother, for she strikes me as being a bit on the ramp tonight!"

He kissed her again, and she clung to him very fast for a moment or two, tasting in that casual, kindly embrace all the home joy she had ever known.

Then, hearing her mother's step, she swiftly and guiltily disengaged herself and fled up the stairs like a startled bird. As she prepared his bath for him, the wayward thought came to her that if only he and she had lived alone together, she would never have wanted to get married at all--even for the delight of being Lady Studley instead of "poor little Dinah Bathurst!"

CHAPTER II