Petticoat Rule Part 27

CHAPTER XIX

A CRISIS

Lydie returned to the palace in a very different frame of mind than when, half an hour ago, she had run along corridor and staircase, her nerves on the jar, her whole being smarting under the sense of wrong and of injustice.

Hope had consoled her since then, and the thought that her own cherished plan need not fail for want of a loyal man's help had in a measure eased that strange obsession which had weighed on her heart, and caused foolish tears to start to her eyes. She was also conscious of a certain joy in thinking that the companion of her childhood, the man who had been her earliest ideal was not so black a traitor as she had believed.

Gaston had spoken of pitfalls, he owned to having been deceived, and there is no woman living who will not readily admit that her successful rival is naught but a designing minx. Gaston had always been weak where women were concerned, and Lydie forgave him his weakness, simply because he had owned to it and because she liked to think of his fault as a weakness rather than as a deliberate treachery.

Now she only thought of her project. When first she had talked of commissioning _Le Monarque_, milor had entrusted her with all necessary directions by which Captain Barre could most easily reach the Stuart prince and his friends. It was but a very few weeks, nay days ago, that she had been quite convinced that the King himself would be foremost in the general desire to fit out an expedition for the rescue of the unfortunate Jacobites, and naturally the fitting-out of such an expedition would have been entrusted primarily to herself and incidentally to her husband.

These directions she still had. All she had to do now was to embody them in the secret orders which Gaston de Stainville would hand over to the Commander of _Le Monarque_. Further orders would be anent getting the prince and his friends on board, and the route to be taken homeward, the better to ensure their safety.

Beyond that she would need some sort of token which, when shown to Charles Edward Stuart by Captain Barre, would induce the young prince to trust himself and his friends unconditionally to _Le Monarque_.

Lord Eglinton's signet ring had been spoken of for this object the day of the Young Pretender's departure, but now of course she could not ask milor for it. On the other hand she felt quite sure that a written word from her would answer the necessary purpose, a brief note sealed with the Eglinton arms.

The thought of the seal as an additional message of good faith first occurred to her when she once more reached the West Wing of the palace.

From the great square landing where she now stood, a monumental door on her right gave on her own suite of apartments. On the left was the long enfilade of reception rooms, with the vast audience chamber and milor's own withdrawing room beyond.

She deliberately turned to the left, and once more traversed the vast and gorgeous halls where, half an hour ago, she had suffered such keen humiliation and such overwhelming disappointment. She forced herself not to dwell on that scene again, and even closed her eyes with a vague fear that the mental vision might become materialized.

Beyond the audience chamber there were two or three more reception rooms, and from the last of these a door masked by a heavy portiere, gave on milor's study. All these apartments were now deserted, save for a few flunkeys who stood about desultorily in the window embrasures. From one of them Lydie asked if M. le Controleur des Finances was within, but no one remembered having seen milor since the _pet.i.t lever_, and it was generally thought that he had gone to Trianon. Lydie hesitated a moment before she opened the door; she scarcely ever entered this portion of the palace and had never once been in milor's private rooms. But she wanted that seal with the Eglinton arms, and would not admit, even to herself, that her husband's presence or absence interested her in the least.

But on the threshold she paused. Milor was sitting at a gigantic escritoire placed squarely in front of the window. He had obviously been writing; at the slight sound of the creaking door and the swish of Lydie's skirts, he raised his head from his work and turned to look at her.

Immediately he rose.

"Your pardon for this intrusion, milor," she said coldly, "your lacqueys gave me to understand that you were from home."

"Is there anything that you desire?"

"Only a seal with the Eglinton arms," she replied quite casually, "I have need of it for a private communication."

He sought for the seal among the many costly objects which littered his table and handed it to her.

"I am sorry that you should have troubled to come so far for it," he said coldly, "one of my men would have taken it to your study."

"And I am sorry that I should have disturbed you," she rejoined. "I was told that you had gone to Trianon."

"I shall be on my way thither in a few moments, to place my resignation in the hands of His Majesty."

"Your resignation?"

"As I have had the honour to tell you."

"Then you will leave Versailles?"

"To make way for my successor, as soon as His Majesty hath appointed one."

"And you go . . . whither?" she asked.

"Oh! what matter?" he replied carelessly, "so long as I no longer trouble your ladyship with my presence."

"Then you will have no objection if I return to my father until your future plans are more mature?"

"Objection?" he said with a pleasant little laugh. "Nay, Madame, you are pleased to joke."

She felt a little bewildered: this unexpected move on his part had somehow thrown all her plans out of gear. For the moment she scarcely had time to conjecture, even vaguely, what her own future actions would be if her husband no longer chose to hold an important position in the Ministry. The thought that his resignation would of necessity mean her own, suddenly rushed into her mind with overwhelming violence, but she was too confused at present to disentangle herself from the maze of conflicting emotions which a.s.sailed her, when first she realized the unexpected possibility.

She was toying with the seal, forgetful somehow of the purpose and the plans which it represented. These not being in jeopardy through milor's extraordinary conduct, she could afford to dismiss them from her mind.

It was the idea of her husband's resignation and her own future which troubled her, and strangely enough there was such an air of finality about his att.i.tude that, for the moment, she was somewhat at a loss how to choose a line of argument with which to influence him. That she could make him alter his decision she never doubted for a moment, but since the first day of their married life he had never taken any initiative in an important matter, and his doing so at this moment found her at first wholly unprepared.

"Am I to understand that my wishes in so vital a decision are not to be consulted in any way?" she asked after a momentary pause.

"You will honour me, Madame, by making me acquainted with them," he replied.

"You must reconsider your resignation," she said decisively.

"That is not possible."

"I have much important business of the nation in hand which I could not hand over to your successor in an incomplete state," she said haughtily.

"There is no necessity for that, Madame, nor for depriving the nation of your able, guiding hand. The post of Comptroller of Finance need not be filled immediately. It can remain in abeyance and under your own matchless control, at the pleasure of His Majesty and M. le Duc d'Aumont, neither of whom will, I am sure, desire to make a change in an administration, which is entirely for the benefit of France."

She looked at him very keenly, through narrowed lids scanning his face and trying to read his intent. But there was obviously no look of sarcasm in his eyes, nor the hint of a sneer in the even placidity of his voice. Once more that unaccountable feeling of irritation seemed to overmaster her, the same sense of wrath and of injustice which had a.s.sailed her when she first spoke to him.

"But this is senseless, milor," she said impatiently. "You seem to forget that I am your wife, and that I have a right to your protection, and to a fitting home if I am to leave Versailles."

"I am not forgetting that you are my wife, Madame, but my protection is worth so little, scarcely worthy of your consideration. As for the rest, my chateau of Vincennes is entirely at your disposal; a retinue of servants is there awaiting your orders, and my notary will this day prepare the deed which I have commanded wherein I humbly ask you to accept the chateau, its lands and revenues as a gift from me, albeit these are wholly unworthy of your condescension."

"It is monstrous, milor, and I'll not accept it," she retorted. "Think you perchance I am so ready to play the _role_ of a forsaken wife?"

A strange thought had been gradually creeping into her mind: a weird kind of calculation whereby she put certain events in juxtaposition to one another: the departure of Gaston de Stainville, for he had told her that he was prepared to go to Scotland whether she helped him in his expedition or not: then Irene would be temporarily free, almost a widow since Gaston's return under those circ.u.mstances would have been more than problematical; and now milor calmly expressing the determination to quit Versailles, and to give away his chateau and lands of Vincennes, forsooth, as a sop to the forsaken wife, whilst Madame de Stainville's provocative att.i.tude this morning more than bore out this conclusion.

Lydie felt as if every drop of blood in her body rushed up violently to her cheeks, which suddenly blazed with anger, whilst his, at her suggestion, had become a shade more pale.

"I am free to suppose, milor, that Madame de Stainville has something to do with your sudden decision!" she said haughtily; "therefore, believe me, I have no longer a wish to combat it. As the welfare of France, the work which I have in hand, interests you so little, I will not trouble you by referring to such matters again. By all means place your resignation in His Majesty's hands. I understand that you desire to be free. I only hope that you will a.s.sist me in not washing too much of our matrimonial linen in public. I have many enemies and I must refuse to allow your whims and fantasies to annihilate the fruits of my past labours, for the good of my country. I will confer with Monsieur le Duc, my father; you will hear my final decision from him."

She turned once more toward the door. He had not spoken one word in interruption, as with a harsh and trenchant voice she thus hurled insult upon insult at him. She only saw that he looked very pale, although his face seemed to her singularly expressionless: whilst she herself was conscious of such unendurable agony, that she feared she must betray it in the quiver of her mouth, and the tears which threatened to come to her eyes.

When she ceased speaking, he bowed quite stiffly, but made no sign of wishing to defend himself. She left the room very hurriedly: in another second and she would have broken down. Sobs were choking her, an intolerable anguish wrung her heartstrings to that extent, that if she had had the power, she would have wounded him physically, as she hoped that she had done now mentally. Oh! if she had had the strength, if those sobs that would not be denied had not risen so persistently in her throat, she would have found words of such deadly outrage, as would at least have stung him and made him suffer as she was suffering now.

There are certain pains of the heart that are so agonizing, that only cruelty will a.s.suage them. Lydie's strong, pa.s.sionate nature perpetually held in check by the force of her great ambition and by her will to be masculine and firm in the great purpose of her life, had for once broken through the trammels which her masterful mind had fashioned round it. It ran riot now in her entire being. She was conscious of overwhelming, of indomitable hate.