Marmaduke Part 14

"It's frae the dancin' woman," said the lad, with a broad grin, "an'

she guve me a golden soverin' to take it quick; an' I've to leave anither at the Crow."

"I can deliver that one," said Marrion cheerfully, "for I'm goin' yon way."

So, note in hand, she made her way to the Crow, and by a dexterous question or two elicited the fact that, as on the previous night, a carriage was ordered to be in waiting at half-past nine. If all went well, therefore, she might hope to avail herself of it. She did not, however, antic.i.p.ate exactly what she meant to do--her plans were fluid, so much depending on the success of her next step. It was an overwhelmingly bold one, and she shivered visibly as she sat waiting for an answer to her request to be allowed an interview with his lordship.

"I'm right sure his lordship wad see me," she pleaded with Dewar, the valet, who in common with all the men-servants at the castle, had an approving eye on her good looks, "did he ken what I cam' about; and"--she added, with a laugh that was a challenge--"I'm no sae ill-looking but he might be blythe to see me forbye business."

"An' that's G.o.d's truth, my dear," replied Dewar gallantly, "sae I'll see what I can do."

Fortune favoured him, for Fantine Le Grand being in an evil, reckless temper had just sent to say she had a headache and could not come to amuse his lordship, who, up and dressed to receive her as usual, was cursing and swearing at womankind in the abstract, and therefore, not unwilling to have a concrete specimen on which to vent his ill-humour.

Marrion Paul, consequently, found herself without delay facing the heavy figure in the big padded chair. One foot swathed in flannels lay on a leg-rest, and the large hand that clasped the lion-head k.n.o.bs of the armchair showed swollen and disfigured by gout; still there was something dignified, almost regal, in the pose of the man; while his face--Marrion, despite her thumping heart, as she looked above the treble chin to the open forehead, felt that here, when all was said and done, was kinship with Marmaduke.

And she for her part pleased the old man's eye also. She had not dressed herself for the occasion, but stood in her usual striped petticoat and bed-gown with a green tartan shoulder shawl of the Muir tartan and a snood of tartan ribbon to match in the red bronze coils of hair.

"So you're Marrion Paul?" he said, his keen clear blue eyes taking in every point of her person. "I haven't seen you to speak to since you were so high. You're a devilish good-looking girl. Come and give me a kiss, my la.s.s."

To his surprise, amus.e.m.e.nt, and approval she stepped forward instantly and obeyed. The touch of her cool lips on his seemed to stagger him.

"Don't object to kisses--hey?" he said, as she remained standing close beside him.

"Why should I, Drummuir," she replied quietly, "when you've kenned me since I was a baby in arms."

He burst into one of his guffaws of rough laughter.

"Hey? What? One for the old reprobate! Sit down, my dear, and tell me what you want."

"It's about Mr. Marmaduke, sir," she began, her voice shaking a little.

"Hey? What? Has that young devil been--no, I beg your pardon, my dear, you're not that sort. Trust a man who's kicked over the traces a bit to know an honest horse when he sees one. You take my word for it; the best judge of a good woman is a bad man. Well, what of Duke?"

The mere abbreviation of the name was encouraging. She felt that to attempt a bargain, even to beg for patience, would be a mistake. She simply took her courage in both hands and told him all she knew. He sat, his unwieldy body impa.s.sive as some carven image, one strong emotion after another sweeping over the mobile face that held so much laughter in every line that Time had graven on it. Only once or twice he interrupted her when, fearing she was too lengthy, she began to cut out details. Then his quick "Let's have it all; don't you know, you're as good as a play. Beat the immortal wizard all to bits! Don't skip"--brought her back to the accessories of her tale. When she had finished he sat and looked at her for a second.

"And you say Duke let you go as you came? Well, he was a d----d young fool; that's all I've got to say! I wouldn't in his place. Even now--my G.o.d, what a Lady Drummuir you'd make, if it wasn't for the curse of cla.s.s! I'll turn Socialist before I die." He paused, and his blue eyes narrowed. "Now, why have you come and told me all this?"

She had her answer ready, and all fear of the old man having vanished she gave him the truth boldly.

"Because I want payment. I've put it into your power to stop Mdlle.

Fantine----"

His whole face changed in a second, an expression of sheer devilish anger took possession of it.

"You leave that alone!" he thundered. "I can settle that business for myself."

It was the first mistake she had made, and she became more wary.

"I want payment," she went on, "because I've risked everything for--for Duke. My father's turned me out of his house and Penelope----"

"d.a.m.n Penelope!" broke in his lordship complacently. "Having no virtue of her own, she's deuced careful about other people's. And so Duke really contemplated marrying Fantine in order to make two thousand pounds by dancing. Confound the boy! He can dance, I'll allow; but it was a big price to pay. And the idea of my son dancing for money! He must have been hard put to it, even to entertain the idea." He bent those blue eyes of his suddenly on her. "And so you want me to give Duke the two thousand pounds myself, do you? Of course you do! Trust a woman who is in love asking for the moon." He paused a moment and gave a little laugh. "Heaps of women have asked me to be a saint, my dear, but I never could compa.s.s virtue. However, you've given me as good a morning's entertainment as ever I had in my life; and what's more you've given me an opportunity of as fine an afternoon's amus.e.m.e.nt."

Here he chuckled wickedly, then added, "Shall I give you the cheque or send it direct?"

She felt staggered at his indifference. She had expected to brave his anger and have perchance to threaten him with what she knew of Fantine's plans for the evening; but, here, with scarce an argument, she found herself successful. In truth she had not gauged accurately the phenomenal malice as well as the almost incredible good nature of the man.

"You must send it, my lord," she said swiftly. "There is no need to say anything about all this."

He frowned in a second.

"Do you mean to dictate to me, my good girl?" he asked fiercely.

"You'd better leave the business in my hands. I'll settle it to my own satisfaction. Come back at six o'clock and you shall be made acquainted with my decision."

He rang the hand-bell on the table beside him and when Dewar entered, said carelessly:

"Show the young woman out; and, Dewar, tell Penelope to come and see me at two o'clock. And, Dewar, send a message to the Manse and tell that jackanapes of a parson Bryce that I want to confess my sins or something of that sort. Tell him I'm ill--dying, if you like--anything--and I want him as soon as he can come. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my lord," replied Dewar discreetly, though he was considerably mystified; but everyone in the castle knew there was but one way of receiving Lord Drummuir's orders, acquiescence and obedience.

CHAPTER XI

An hour or so afterwards Fantine Le Grand coming in from a ramble on the rocks, whither she had gone despite her pretended headache, in order to quiet her nerves for what she foresaw was to be a stand-up fight between her and Marrion, found old Lord Drummuir in possession of her boudoir. He was in his wheeled-chair, but was looking remarkably spruce in a blue coat with bra.s.s b.u.t.tons, an immaculate white stock and frill, and his gouty foot was swathed in kersey to match the breeches he wore. His ruddy face was all smiles, but there was a vicious look in the blue eyes that reminded her of a horse about to kick.

And kick he did with a force that left her breathless.

"I've come to tell you," he said, "that we are going to be married this evening."

She recoiled as if from a blow.

"Now, don't be foolish and make a fuss," he continued, as she gave a little cry, "or you won't look well in your wedding-dress!" So far he had gone lightly; but now he settled down to a decision of voice and manner that was positively terrifying to the woman in its intensity.

"I tell you I won't have any fuss, and I know everything. Marrion Paul told it me from start to finish, and I don't want to hear any more about it, if you please!"

The mock politeness of the last finished her. She was ill-bred, not over brave, and reverting to her early upbringing she burst into a torrent of abuse of the viper, the hussy who was no better than she should be, who, if Penelope at the keep-house was to be believed--and she had seen her but now--had----

So far Lord Drummuir had let her storm; now he stopped her impatiently.

"I know what Penelope says," he snarled, "and I shall be sorry for her when she hears what I have to say. And I know you, f.a.n.n.y, down to the ground. You're not a bad sort, but you are getting old. Look in the gla.s.s, you foolish woman, and you'll see I'm right. But you suit me and I mean to have you. There's an end of it."

She summoned up a little courage.

"And supposing I won't! I am a free woman."

He lowered his brows and his words cut like a knife.

"Don't tell lies! You're not free. You think I paid your debts. I wasn't such a fool till I had you fast. Look here, when I heard all about this midsummer madness with Marmaduke--the d----d impertinence of trying to inveigle my son into posturing at the Courts of Europe for pennies almost made me give you your _conge_, miss, I can tell you--I sent for Compton. You think I don't know what he is to you; but I do. If he'd known of this business, I'd have kicked you both out.

But he didn't, poor devil; he was flabbergasted. So I saw it was all your fault and I determined to punish you, and I'm going to do it my own way. Now, don't look like a frightened hare; I never touched a woman save in the way of kindness all my life, and we'll get on all right once we're married; so the sooner the better."