Love and hatred Part 18

Mrs. Tropenell breathed more freely. They were off from Laura now, and on some business affair. She heard Gillie Baynton laugh aloud. "I'm quite looking forward to it--but it will be a longish job!"

Oliver answered, "_I'm_ not looking forward to it. You feel quite sure about this thing, Baynton? There's time to draw back--now."

"Sure? Of course I'm sure!" There was triumph, a challenge to fate, in the other's tone. "I've always liked playing for high stakes--you know that, eh?"

"Ay, I know that----"

"And I've never looked back. I've never regretted anything I've done in my life----" there was a ring of boastful a.s.surance in Gilbert Baynton's tone.

"I can't say that of myself--I wish I could."

"You? Why, you've a milk-white record, compared to mine!"

Mrs. Tropenell moved away swiftly over the gra.s.s, till she stood at the end of the dark, arched walk. Then, "Oliver!" she called out, "there's a message from Lord St. Amant. He wants to know if you can go over to the Abbey next week, from Sat.u.r.day till Tuesday. He says there'll be some shooting. I told him you'd ring up before going to bed--I hope that was right."

"Yes, mother. Of course I'll ring up. I'll go in and do it now, if you like. Gillie and I have been having a long business talk."

And then she heard Gilbert Baynton: "I'll stay out here a bit longer, Mrs. Tropenell. I'm getting quite used to the cold and damp of the old country. I don't mind it as much as I did a week ago."

Mother and son walked across the lawn to the house.

When they were indoors, he broke silence first: "Gillie had a bad row with Pavely this afternoon. I don't think it's any use his staying on here. Pavely won't allow Laura to see him again at The Chase."

Mrs. Tropenell uttered an exclamation of dismay.

"Yes, it's unfortunate, I admit. And I don't think it was Gillie's fault! He's described the scene to me in great detail. He was quite willing to go as far as I think he could be expected to go in the way of apology and contrition. But Pavely simply didn't give him a chance.

Pavely's a narrow-minded brute, mother."

"Is Gillie very upset? Is he much disappointed?" she asked in a low voice.

"Yes, I think Gillie is upset--more upset than I should have expected him to be! He's disappointed, too, at not having seen little Alice. He's really fond of children, and, as he truly says, Alice is bound to be his heiress--unless of course he should marry, which is very unlikely."

Oliver was speaking in a preoccupied, absent voice, as if he was hardly thinking of what he was saying. "We're thinking, he and I, of going to the Continent next week. We've got business to do in Paris--rather important business, too. Of course I'll try and come back here before leaving for Mexico."

Mrs. Tropenell felt as if the walls of the room were falling about her.

Oliver had always spoken of late as if he meant to stay on in England till after Christmas.

"How long d'you expect to be in France?"

"I can't tell yet, mother. I might be there a fortnight, or I might be there six weeks--it all depends on the business we're going to do. No dates are settled yet."

He waited a few moments, then said slowly, "I've been wondering whether you would mind going up with Laura to London for a few days? Somehow I think Pavely is more likely to let her go if you offer to go too."

There swept over her a feeling of recoil, but she let her son see nothing of that. "Very well," she said quietly. "I quite understand--I'll do my best. I agree that Laura ought to see her brother again. And what are _you_ thinking of doing, my dear?"

"Oh, I thought of going up to town, too." He spoke with a detached air.

"You and I could stay in that nice little hotel where we stayed years ago, mother. Of course I'm only thinking of a few days in town, before Gillie and I go off to Paris."

As they came through into the house, she was startled by the expression on her son's face. He looked as if he had had a shock; he was very pale, it was as if all the healthy colour had been drained out of his tan cheeks.

"Oliver?" she exclaimed. "Do you feel ill, my darling? When you came in before dinner you looked as if you had caught a chill."

"It was rather cold on the downs, but I feel very much as usual, thank you, mother. A talk with Gillie always tires me. I think he's got a rather----" he hesitated for a word, then found it--"obstreperous vitality."

CHAPTER XI

When G.o.dfrey Pavely arrived at the Bank next morning it seemed to him that days, instead of hours, had gone by, since that hateful and degrading scene had taken place between himself and his wife's brother.

Laura had not spoken to him again, except to utter the few sentences which were necessary to keep up the pretence that they two were on their usual terms, before the servants, and, what had been more difficult, before their little daughter.

After Alice had gone to bed, they had eaten their dinner in silence, and, in silence also, they had spent the evening reading up to eleven o'clock. At last G.o.dfrey, getting up, had said in a nervous, conciliatory tone, "Well, good-night, Laura." But she had not answered him, for by that time the servants were gone to bed, and there was no longer any reason for hypocrisy.

Laura had always been an exceptionally silent woman, but this was the first time, in the long armed neutrality of their married life, that she had actually refused to answer when he spoke to her. Feeling acutely uncomfortable, because curiously helpless, G.o.dfrey Pavely now wondered how long this state of things was to endure.

He asked himself whether he had said anything yesterday which could really justify Laura in this extraordinary att.i.tude. Now and again there seemed to sound in his ears the voice in which she had uttered the last words which she had spoken to him of her own free will. "Don't speak to me," she had exclaimed pa.s.sionately. "I shall never, never forgive you for this!"

Women were so unreasonable--ridiculously, absurdly unreasonable. Laura knew exactly what Gillie was like, for he, G.o.dfrey, had gone to special pains to make Laura fully understand the mean, despicable and _dangerous_ way in which her brother had behaved over the forged cheque--for forgery it was, though it had been difficult to persuade Laura of the fact. He remembered now, how, at last, after he had forced his wife to understand, she had abased herself, imploring him to save her brother from the consequences of his wicked action.

G.o.dfrey also remembered sorely how grateful Laura had seemed to be after everything had been arranged, and Gillie had finally gone off to Mexico, a ruined and discredited man. He felt a glow of virtuous satisfaction when he recalled how she had thanked him--her kind, generous husband--for what he had done! True, the loan then advanced had been paid back, and Gillie--to use the stupid expression which seems to be creeping into the British language--had "made good." But that was no reason why he should come back and thrust himself into his, G.o.dfrey's, home, and make friends with G.o.dfrey's only child--after he had actually given an undertaking, in his own, melodramatic words, "never to darken G.o.dfrey's door again."

Yet in his innermost heart G.o.dfrey Pavely was sorry now that he had behaved as he had done yesterday. He had allowed his temper to get the better of him, always a silly thing for a sensible man to do. By behaving as he had done he had put a weapon into Laura's hands....

At one moment he considered the advisability of going into Freshley Manor on his way home to-day, to consult Mrs. Tropenell. And then he had suddenly remembered that his brother-in-law was actually her guest! That fact alone made a most disagreeable complication.

As he looked over his letters, and dictated some of the answers to them, he tried without success to put the matter out of his mind. It had taken there the place occupied by the unpleasantness connected with those absurd anonymous letters. For the first time, this morning he forgot them.

There came a knock at the door. "A letter, sir, has just been brought by Mrs. Tropenell's man. He said there was an answer, so he's waiting."

With quickened pulse, G.o.dfrey Pavely opened the letter. He had long been familiar with Mrs. Tropenell's clear, flowing handwriting, and he wondered what she could have to say to him which she preferred to write, rather than telephone.

The banker was attached to Mrs. Tropenell. Always she had acted towards him in a high-minded, straightforward way, and on two occasions he had had reason to be specially grateful to her, for on each of these occasions she had intervened, successfully, between Laura and himself, and made Laura see reason. But she never alluded to the past, even in the remotest way, and he had come of late years to think and hope she had forgotten those now distant, painful, active misunderstandings.

If Mrs. Tropenell was now pleading with him for a reconciliation with Gilbert Baynton, then he knew that it would be very difficult for him to say "no" to a woman to whom he owed so much. It would also be a graceful way of getting out of the difficulty in which he had involved himself....

But the contents of the letter disagreeably surprised him, for they were quite other than what he had expected them to be--

"DEAR G.o.dFREY:--Oliver and Gilbert Baynton have to go to the Continent on business. I think they will be away for some time, and Gilbert speaks of going straight back to Mexico from France.

"I write to know if you will allow Laura to come up to town with me for a few days? It would enable her to see something of her brother, before a separation which may last, as did their past separation, for years.

"I hope, dear G.o.dfrey, you will see your way to granting this request of mine. It is in very truth my request--not Laura's.

"Your affectionate old friend, "LETTICE TROPENELL."