The Duchess of Wrexe Part 82

WILLIAM BRIGHTY RAND.

I

Breton had gone; the room was empty.

Rachel came and, kneeling on the floor, hid her face in Roddy's coat. He put his hands about hers.

His only desire now was that there should be peaceful silence. His hatred for scenes had always been with him an instinct, natural, alert, untiring, so that he would undertake many labours, forgo many pleasant prizes, if only emotional crises might be avoided.

This afternoon had showered upon him a relentless succession of reverberating displays, he had perceived one human being after another reveal quite nakedly their tumultuous feelings. It was, for him, precisely as though the d.u.c.h.ess, Rachel, Breton had stripped there before him and expected him to display no astonishment at their so doing--that he should have been the author of the business made it no better; he reflected that he had even looked forward with excitement to the affair. "If I had only known how beastly...."

He was ashamed--ashamed of his own action in provoking these things, ashamed of his own lack of understanding, ashamed to have watched the sharpened tempers of his friends.

He would never, Heaven help him, take part in any such scene again!

But out of it all one good thing had come--he had got Rachel! As she had looked across the room, meeting his eyes, he had known that at last his long pursuit of her was at an end....

It never occurred to him that most husbands, after such a declaration as Rachel had just made, would have stormed, reproached, ridden, for a long time to come, the high horse of conscious superior virtue.

It did not seem odd to him that at the very moment of Rachel's confession he should feel more sure of her than he had ever been before.

At last the Nita Raseley debt was paid off. At last he knew, beyond question, that Rachel loved him. Best of all, perhaps, he had seen Breton and felt his own superiority.

That being so, he wanted no words about the matter. He would like to lie there on his sofa, with her hands enclosed in his and nothing said between either of them--very pleasant and quiet there in the dusk. He hoped that he would never again have to explain anything or speak to anyone about his feelings--no, not even to Rachel.

Then he discovered that she was sobbing as she knelt there, and his face crimsoned with confusion and alarm. Rachel, the proudest woman he had ever known, kneeling to him, crying!

He tried to lift her, pressing her hands.

"Rachel dear ... Rachel."--Her words came between her sobs.

"I should have told you ... long ago ... I tried to--I did indeed ... but it was because I was frightened ... because I ... Oh!

Roddy! you'll never trust me again!"

He was burning hot with the confusion of it: he was almost angry both with himself and her.

"Please, Rachel ... please ... don't ... it's all over, dear. There's nothing the matter."

"It's fine of you ... to take it like that ... But you'll never forgive me, really, you can't--It isn't possible. This very afternoon ... I was going to tell you--if all this ... hadn't happened. You'll be different now--you must be ... just when I want you so much."

He glanced in despair about the room. He looked at the sporting prints and the case of birds' eggs and at last at Rachel's photograph. How proud and splendid she was there! This dreadful abas.e.m.e.nt!

He stroked her hair.

"See here, old girl--we've had a rotten afternoon, haven't we? Awfully rotten--never remember to have spent a worse. All my fault, too--poor old d.u.c.h.ess!... but look here, it's all right now. I understand everythin' and--and--dash it all--do stop cryin', Rachel, old girl."

"It's been bad enough," she said, her voice steadier now, "the way I've been to you all this time, but I thought--at least--I was honest--I've tried--I've made a miserable failure--But, Roddy, you need--never--never--be afraid of anything again--I'm yours altogether, Roddy, to do anything with....

"All about Francis--I was mad somehow--It was grandmamma--feeling she had driven me into marrying you. And then Nita ... and then I didn't know you a bit--all there was in you--but now," and she raised her eyes and looked at him, "I love you with all my heart and soul and strength."

He bent down his head and rather clumsily kissed her.

"You know, Rachel, I was a bit frightened myself this afternoon--thought you might be angry because I took you by surprise. You bet, if I'd known what it was going to be like ... Well, thank the Lord, it's done, and we'll never have another like it--I'll see to that. Scenes are rotten things, aren't they?--I always loathed 'em even when I was tiny--so did the governor.... If he had me up for lickin' all he ever said was, 'Down with your bags!' That was all there was about it."

She leant her cheek against his.

"You've forgiven me all, everything--absolutely?" she asked.

"There isn't any forgiveness in it," he answered. "It's all the other way, if it's anythin'.... You see, I've been thinkin' a lot while I was lyin' here. When there was that business over Nita I said you should always be free just as I told you I ought to be. Well, since--since I got that old tumble--I haven't any right to hold you at all. I'm just an old log here, no good, anyway, and only a nuisance. And if I thought I was keepin' you tied I'd be miserable. You see, I know you're fond of me now. I've got that.... Don't let's talk any more about it. You've got me and I've got you--and we aren't afraid of any old woman in the world."

He held her closely to him, his arms strong about her.

"There's something else to tell you."

"Something else?"

"Yes. We're going to have a child, you and I, Roddy. And now that you've forgiven me it's all right--but that's partly what's made me afraid all these last weeks. As it is, you've got me, got me, got me, safe for ever and ever!"

"Well, I'm d.a.m.ned!" said Roddy.

She could feel his hand trembling upon hers.

"Oh," she whispered, "I was frightened this afternoon--terrified. I thought you'd never see me again."

Roddy was turning things over in his mind.

"A kid ... my word. Just the thing. A boy ... it'll be jolly for the Place and I can teach him a lot. It'll be somethin' to go back to the house for. Gosh! There's news!"

His eyes wandered round the room.

"Good thing I kept all those eggs--nearly broke 'em up too. They're a jolly fine collection. I'd have prized 'em like anything if they'd come to me when I was small." He caught her hand so fiercely that she gave a little cry.

"What a day! We'll have to see about the shootin' down at Seddon again, old girl ... Lord, what an afternoon!"

CHAPTER X

LIZZIE BECOMES MISS RAND AGAIN

"So she put the handkerchief, and the pin, and the lock of hair back into the box, turned the key, and went resolutely about her everyday duties again."--Mrs. Ewing.

I

Lizzie was waiting for Lady Adela. She had finished her work for the day, had come from her own room to Lady Adela's and now stood at one of the high windows looking down upon the April sunshine that coloured the dignities of Portland Place.

The room was s.p.a.cious and lofty, but curiously uncomfortable and lifeless. High book-cases with gla.s.s shutters revealed rows of "Cornhill" and "Blackwood" volumes, a long rather low table covered with a green cloth held a silver inkstand, a blotting-pad, pens and a calendar. There were stiff mahogany chairs ranged against the wall and old prints of Beaminster House (white-pillared, s.p.a.cious with sloping lawns) and Eton College chapel faced the windows.