Authors: Georgette Heyer
"Dare sprang forward, catching him by the shoulder–crying out that it could not be true! When Jack laughed–he fell away from him as from–the plague. And all of them! My God, to see them drawing away–not looking at Jack! And Jack's face–growing paler and harder . . . every moment. . . . All his friends. . . turning their backs to him. Davenant–even Jim Davenant walked away to the fireplace with Evans.
"I could not look at Jack. I dared not. I could not go to him–stand by him! I had not the right. I had to leave him there–in the middle of the room–alone. The awful hurt in his eyes made me writhe. The room was whirling round–I felt sick–I know I fell back into my chair, hiding my face. I hardly cared whether they suspected me or not. But they did not. They knew how great was the love between us, and they were not surprised that I broke down.
"I heard Andover's soft voice. . . he was telling some tale to Dare. Oh, they were well-bred those men! They skimmed over the unpleasant little episode–ignored Jack!
"Jack spoke again. I could guess how bravely he was keeping a proud front. I know word for word what he said: 'Mr. Dare, your Grace, Gentlemen— my apologies for being the cause of so unpleasant an incident. Pray give me leave.'
"They paid no heed. I heard him walk to the door–heard him open it. I could not look at him. He–he paused. . . and said just one word: 'Dick!' quite softly. Heaven knows how I got to him! I know I overturned my chair. That drew Dare's attention. He said: 'You are not going, Dick?' I shouted 'Yes,' at him, and then Jack took my arm, leading me out.
"And–and all he said was: 'Poor old Dick!'. . . He–he had no word of blame for me. He would not allow me to go back and tell the truth–as I would have done. Ay, Warburton, when Jack called me to him, I could have cried it aloud–but–he would not have it. . . . He said: 'For Lavinia's sake.' . . . "
Warburton blew his nose violently. His fingers were trembling.
"You know what happened afterwards. You know how my father turned Jack out penniless–you know how his friends shunned him–you know my poor mother's grief. And you know that he went away–that we could not find him when–my mother died. . . . His last words to me–were: 'Make Lavinia–happy–and try to forget–all this.' Forget it! Heavens! Try as I might, I could hear nothing further of him until two months ago, when he–waylaid me. Then I was half-dazed at the suddenness of it. He–he grasped my hand–and–laughed! It was so dark, I could scarce see him. I only had time to demand his address, and then–he was off–galloping away over the heath. I think–even then–he bore no malice."
"He does not now!" said Warburton sharply. "But, Master Dick, if all this is true, why do you not even now clear him? Surely—"
Richard turned his head slowly.
"Now I may not drag my wife's name through the mud. By clearing him–I ruin her."
Warburton could find nothing to say. Only after some time did he clear his throat and say that he was honoured by Carstares' confidence.
"You–ah–you dwell on the part played by his Grace on that evening. Surely your–shall we say–overwrought imagination magnified that?"
Richard was disinterested.
"I suppose so. Mayhap 'twas his extraordinary personality dominating me. He cannot have pulled the wires as I thought he did. Not even Belmanoir could make me act as I did. But–but at the time I felt that he was pushing–pushing–compelling me to accuse Jack. Oh, doubtless I was mad!"
Warburton eyed the dejected figure compassionately. Then he seemed to harden himself and to regain some of his lost primness of manner.
"You–ah–you are determined not to accept the revenues, sir?"
"I have not yet sunk so low, Mr. Warburton."
"His lordship leaves Wyncham and all appertaining to it at your disposal. He would be grieved at your refusal."
"I will not touch it."
The lawyer nodded.
"I confess, Mr. Carstares, I am relieved to hear you say that. It will not be necessary again to communicate with his lordship. I think he does not desire any intercourse with–his family. He finds it too painful. But he wished to be remembered to you, sir. Also to her ladyship."
"Thank you. . . . You could–ascertain nothing of his situation? He did not confide in you?"
"He was very reticent, sir. I think he is not unhappy."
"And not–embittered?"
"Certainly not that, sir."
Mr. Warburton rose, plainly anxious to be gone.
Reluctantly Richard followed his example.
"You–have nothing further to tell me of him?"
"I regret, sir–nothing."
Richard went slowly to the door, and opened it.
"You must allow me to thank you, sir, for your goodness in undertaking what I know must have been a painful task. I am very grateful."
Mr. Warburton bowed low.
"I beg you will not mention it, sir. Nothing I might do for the Carstares could be aught but a pleasure."
Again he bowed, and the next instant was gone.
RICHARD went slowly back to his chair. After a moment he sat down, staring blankly out of the window, his hands loosely clasped on the desk before him. So he remained for a long while, immobile. At last, with the faintest of sighs, he moved and picked up a quill. He dipped it in the ink, and, with his other hand, drew towards him a sheaf of papers. Presently he was writing steadily.
For perhaps twenty minutes the quill travelled to and fro across the pages; then it paused, and Richard looked up towards the door.
It opened to admit Lady Lavinia. She came rustling into the room with her embroidery in her hand. She dropped her husband a mock curtsey and went over to a high-backed armchair, stretching out a dimpled hand to draw it forward. But even as her fingers touched it she had changed her mind, and fluttered over to the couch, there to seat herself with much swirling of brocades and arrangement of skirts. She then proceeded to occupy herself with her work, plying her needle hurriedly and jerkily.
Richard watched her in silence, following each turn of the pretty hand and each movement of her fair head.
The silence was evidently not to my lady's taste, for she presently began to beat an impatient tattoo on the floor with one slender foot. Still he said nothing, and she raised her pure china-blue eyes to his face.
"Why so glum, Dick? Why do you not talk to me?" Her voice was rather high-pitched and childish, and she had a curious way of ending each sentence with an upward lilt and a long drawn-out accent, very fascinating to listen to.
Richard smiled with an obvious effort.
"Am I, my dear? I crave your pardon. Warburton has just been."
Her face clouded over instantly, and the full-lipped mouth drooped petulantly.
"He has seen him."
"Oh?" She made the word twice its length, and filled it with disinterest.
"Yes. Jack will have none of it. He asks me to be his steward and to use Wyncham as I will. He is very generous."
"Yes, oh yes. And you will, Richard?"
He ignored the question.
"He–Warburton–says he is not much changed."
"Oh?" Again the long-drawn monosyllable, accompanied by a tiny yawn.
"He says he does not think–Jack–bears me ill-will—" He paused, as if expecting her to speak, but she was absorbed in arranging two flowers–culled from a bowl at her side–at her breast, and took no notice. Carstares turned his head away wearily.
"If it were not for you, my dear, I would tell the truth. I believe I shall go crazed an I do not."
"Dick!". . . She dropped the flowers on the floor and thought no more about them. "Dick!"
"Oh, you need have no fear! I do not suppose," bitterly, "that I have the courage to face them all now–after six years."
Lavinia moved restlessly, brushing her hand along the couch.
"You will not do it, Richard? Promise! You
will
not? I could not bear the disgrace of it; promise me you will never do it?"
"No," he said slowly, not looking at her. "No, I cannot promise that."
She sprang to her feet, flinging her broidery from her carelessly, and waved fierce, agitated little hands.
"That means you will do it. You
want
to disgrace me! You do not
care
how you hurt me by holding this threat over my head so cruelly! You—"
"Lavinia, for heaven's sake!" he implored, pushing back his chair. "Calm yourself!" He knew she was about to fly into one of her sudden passions, and frowned with acute vexation.
"I will not! Oh yes, yes! You think me a shrew! I know! I know! But you need not frown on me, sir, for you are worse! No, I will not hush. I am a horrid woman, yes, but you are a cheat–a cheat–a cheat!"
Carstares strode over to her.
"Lavinia!"
"No–no! Leave me alone! You make me miserable! You refuse me everything that I want most, and then you threaten to disgrace me–"
"That is untrue!" cried Richard, goaded into replying. "I will not promise, that is all. What have I refused you that was within my means to give you? God knows you try your best to ruin me–"
"There! There! 'Tis
I
who am to blame! Pray did you not induce my lord to leave his money to John when you knew he would have willed it all to you an you had kept silence? You took no thought to me–"
"For heaven's sake, Lavinia, be still! You do not know what you are saying!"
She pressed her hands to her hot cheeks.
"No–I am unreasonable! I know it, but don't
tell
me so, for I cannot bear it! And don't look reproach at me, Richard! You drive me mad, I tell you! She was sweeping up and down the room like some caged animal, lashing herself to a worse fury.
"Say something, Richard!
Do
something! Don't stand there so quietly! Oh, you should never have married me! I displease you, and you make me worse; and you do not see how 'tis that I cannot live without pleasure, and money! I am despicable? Yes, yes, but what are you? Oh, why did you tell me you cheated
after
you had wedded me?" Angry sobs escaped her; her handkerchief was in shreds upon the floor.
Carstares turned his back to her, that she might not see how she had contrived to hurt him, and the movement drove her to fresh fury.
"Don't do that! Don't! Don't! You make me worse by your dreadful silence! Oh, if you really loved me!"
"You cannot doubt that!" he cried out, wheeling suddenly round. "You know how I love you! Don't you?" He gripped her by the shoulders and swung her to face him.
She trembled and gave a sobbing little laugh. As suddenly as it had come, her anger left her.
"Oh, yes, yes! You do love me, Dicky?" She twined her arms about his neck and shrank closer.
"God help me, yes!" he groaned, thrusting her away. "And you–you care for no one save yourself!"
"No! No!" she cried, pressing up to him again. "Do not say that, Dick. Indeed, I love you, but I cannot live without gaiety–you know I cannot. Oh, I do not doubt but what I am very selfish, but 'tis the way I am fashioned, and I cannot change my nature. And now I have hurt you, and I did not mean to! I did not mean to!"
"My dear, I know you did not; but try to be less a child, I beg of you! You are so uncontrolled, so–"
"I knew you would say that," she answered in a dead voice. "You do not understand me. You expect me to be good, and patient, and forbearing, and I tell you 'tis not in my nature."
"But, Lavinia, you can control your passions," he said gently.
"No! I cannot! We Belmanoirs–as God made us, so we are–and He made us spendthrift, and pleasure-loving, and mad!" She walked slowly to the door. "But you do not understand, and you try to make me staid, and thoughtful, and a good mother, when I am dying for
life
, and excitement, and care not that for housewifery!" She opened the door slowly. "And now my head aches, and you look grave and say 'tis my wicked temper, when I want you to be sorry, and to be ready to do anything to comfort me. Why can you not take me to London, when you know how I long to be there, instead of in this gloomy house with nought to do, save mind my child and my needle? I am so tired of it all! So very tired of it all!" She would have left the room then, but he detained her.
"Wait, Lavinia! You say you are unhappy?"
She released the door handle and fluttered her hands expressively.
"Unhappy? No, I am dull. I am ill-tempered. I am discontented. I am aught you please, so do not be sad, Richard. I cannot bear you to be solemn. Oh, why do we quarrel?" With one of her impulsive movements she was again at his side, with her beautiful face upturned. "Love me, Richard! Take me to London and never mind an I
do
squander your money. Say you do not care! Say that nothing matters so long as I am happy! Why do you not say it? Does anything matter? Don't be prudent, Dicky! Be wild! Be reckless! Be anything rather than grave and old!" Her arms crept up to his coaxingly. "Take me to London!"
Carstares smoothed the soft hair back from her forehead, very tenderly, but his eyes were worried.
"My dear, I will take you, but not just yet. There is so much to be done here. If you will wait a little longer—"