The Independence of Claire Part 39

Mrs Corby smiled with a fine resignation. Personally she wanted none of them nasty messy foods, but there! the poor thing meant well, and if it would make her happy, let her have her way. So Claire collected her materials, and washed and mixed, and filled a great bowl, and decorated the top with slices of hardboiled eggs, and a few bright nasturtium blossoms, while three linty-locked children stood by, watching with fascinated attention. At dinner Claire thoroughly enjoyed her share of her own salad, but the verdict of the country-people was far from enthusiastic.

"I don't go for to deny that it tasted well enough," Mrs Corby said with magnanimous candour, "but what I argue is, what's the sense of using up all them extras--eggs, and oil, and what not--when you can manage just as well without? I've never seen the day when I couldn't relish a bit o' plain lettuce and a plate of good spring onions!"

"But the eggs and the dressing make it more nourishing," Claire maintained. "In France the peasants have very often nothing but salad for their dinner--great dishes of salad, with plenty of eggs."

"Eh, poor creatures! It makes your heart bleed to think of it. We may be thankful we are not foreign born!" Mrs Corby p.r.o.nounced with unction, and Claire retired from the struggle, and decided that for the future it would be more tactful to learn, rather than to endeavour to teach. The next morning, therefore, she worked under Mrs Corby's supervision, picking fruit, feeding chickens, searching for eggs, and other light tasks designed to keep her in the open air; and in the afternoon accompanied the children on a message to a farm some distance away. The path lay across the fields, away from the main road, and on returning an hour later, Mrs Corby's figure was seen standing by her own gate, her hand raised to her eyes, as though watching for their approach. The children broke into a run, and Claire hurried forward, her heart beating with deep excited throbs. What was it? _Who_ was it?

n.o.body but Sophie and Cecil knew her address, but still, but still-- For a moment hope soared, then sank heavily down as Mrs Corby announced--

"A lady, miss. Come to see you almost as soon as you left. She's waiting in the parlour."

Cecil! Claire hardly knew if she were sorry or relieved. It would be a blessing to have some one to whom she could speak, but, on the other hand, what poor Cecil had to say would not fail to be depressing. She went slowly down the pa.s.sage, taking a grip over her own courage, opened the door, and stood transfixed.

In the middle of the hard horsehair sofa sat Mrs Fanshawe herself, her elaborately coiffured, elaborately attired figure looking extraordinarily out of place in the prim bareness of the little room.

Her gloved hands were crossed on her lap, she sat ostentatiously erect, her satin cloak falling around her in regal folds; her face was a trifle paler than usual, but the mocking light shone in her eyes. At Claire's entrance she stood up, and crossed the little room to her side.

"My dear," she said calmly, "I am an obstinate old woman, but I have the sense to know when I'm beaten. I have come to offer my apologies."

A generous heart is quick to forgive. At that moment Claire felt a pang indeed, but it came not from the remembrance of her own wrongs, but from the sight of this proud, domineering woman humbling herself to a girl.

Impulsively she threw out both hands, impulsively she stopped Mrs Fanshawe's lips with the kiss which she had refused at parting.

"Oh, stop! Please don't! Don't say any more. I was wrong, too. I took offence too quickly. You were thinking of me, as well as of yourself."

"Oh, no, I was not," the elder woman corrected quietly. "Neither of you, nor your friend, my dear, though I took advantage of the excuse.

You came between me and my plans, and I wanted to get you out of the way. You saw through me, and I suppose I deserved to be seen through.

It's an unpleasant experience, but if it's any satisfaction to you to know it, I've been _well_ punished for interfering. Erskine has seen to my punishment."

The blood rushed to Claire's face. How much did Mrs Fanshawe know?

Had Erskine told her of that hurried interview upon the station? Had he by any possibility told what he had _asked_? The blazing cheeks asked the question as plainly as any words, and Mrs Fanshawe replied to it without delay.

"Oh, yes, my dear, I know all about it. It was because I guessed that was coming that I wanted to clear the coast; but it appears that I was too late. Shall we sit down and talk this out, and for pity's sake see that that woman doesn't come blundering in. It's such an anti-climax to have to deal with a tea-tray in the midst of personal explanations. I'm not accustomed to eating humble pie, and if I am obliged to do it at all, I prefer to do it in private."

"She won't come. I don't have tea for another hour," Claire a.s.sured her. "And please don't eat humble pie for me. I was angry at the time, but you had been very kind to me before. I--I enjoyed that first week very much."

"And so did I!" Mrs Fanshawe gave one of her dry, humorous, little laughs. "You are a charming companion, my dear. I was a little in love with you myself, but-- Well! to be honest, it did not please me that my son should follow my example. He is my only child, and I am proud and ambitious for him, as any mother would be. I did not wish him to marry a--a--"

"A gentlewoman who was honourably working at an honourable profession!"

concluded Claire for her, with a general stiffening of pose, voice and manner; but Mrs Fanshawe only laughed once more, totally unaffected by the pose.

"No, my dear, I did not! It's very praiseworthy, no doubt, to train the next generation, but it doesn't appeal to me in the present connection.

I was thinking of my son, and I wanted him to have a wife of position and fortune, who would be able to help his career. If you had been a girl of fortune and position, I should have been quite ready to welcome you. You are a pretty creature, and much more intelligent than most girls of your age, but, you see, you are not--"

"I have no money but what I earn, but I belong to a good family. I object to your saying that I have no position, Mrs Fanshawe, simply because I live in lodgings and work for my living!"

Mrs Fanshawe shrugged with a touch of impatience.

"Oh, well, my dear, why bandy words? I have told you that I am beaten, so it's useless to argue the point. Erskine has decided for himself, and, as I told you before, one might as well try to bend a granite wall as move him when he has once made up his mind. I've planned, and schemed, and hoped, and prayed for the last dozen years, and at the first sight of that pretty face of yours all my plans went to the wall.

If I'd been a wise woman I would have recognised the inevitable, and given in with a good grace, but I never was wise, never shall be, so I ran my head up against the wall. I've been through a bad time since you left me, my dear, and I was forgiven only on the understanding that I came here and made my peace with you. Have I made peace? Do you understand what I mean? That I withdraw my opposition, and if you accept my boy, you shall have nothing to fear. I'll make you welcome; and I'll be as good to you as it's in my nature to be. I'll treat you with every courtesy. Upon my word, my dear, as mothers-in-law go, I think you would come off pretty well!"

"I--I--I'm sure--You're very kind..." Claire stammered in helpless embarra.s.sment; and Mrs Fanshawe, watching her, first smiled, then sighed, and said in a quick low voice--

"Ah, my dear, you can afford to be generous! If you live to be my age, and have a son of your own, whom you have loved, and cherished, and mothered for over thirty years, and at the end he speaks harshly to you for the sake of a girl whom he has known a few short months, puts her before you, finds it hard to forgive you because you have wounded her pride--ah, well, it's hard to bear! I don't want to whine, but--don't make it more difficult for me than you can help! I have apologised.

Now it's for you--"

Claire put both arms round the erect figure, and rested her head on the folds of the black satin cloak. Neither spoke, but Mrs Fanshawe lifted a little lace-edged handkerchief to her eyes, and her shoulders heaved once and again. Then suddenly she arose and walked towards the door.

"The car is waiting. Don't come with me, my dear. I'll see you again."

She waived Claire back in the old imperious way against which there was no appeal. Evidently she wished to be alone, and Claire re-seated herself on the sofa, flushed, trembling, so shaken out of her bearings that it was difficult to keep hold of connected thought. The impossible had happened. In the course of a few short minutes difficulties which had seemed insurmountable had been swept from her path. Within her grasp was happiness so great, so dazzling that the very thought of it took away her breath.

Her eyes fell on the watch at her wrist. Ten minutes to four! Twenty minutes ago--barely twenty minutes--at the end of the field path she had looked at that little gold face with a dreamy indifference, wondering only how many minutes remained to be whiled away before it was time for tea. Even a solitary tea-drinking had seemed an epoch in the uneventful day. Uneventful! Claire mentally repeated the word, the while her eyes glowed, and her heart beat in joyful exultation. Surely, surely in after-remembrance this day would stand out as one all-important, epoch- making.

And then suddenly came a breathless question. How had Mrs Fanshawe discovered her retreat? No address had been left at Laburnum Crescent; no address had been given to Janet Willoughby. Cecil was in her mother's home; Sophie in hospital. In the name of all that was mysterious and inexplicable, _how had she been tracked_?

Claire sat bolt upright on her sofa, her grey eyes widened in amaze, her breath coming sharply through her parted lips. She thrilled at the realisation that Erskine's will had overcome all difficulties. Had not Mrs Fanshawe declared that she came at his instigation? And where the mother had come, would not the son follow?

At that moment a shadow fell across the floor; against the open s.p.a.ce of the window a tall figure stood, blocking the light. Erskine's eager eyes met her own. Before the first gasp of surprise had left her lips, his strong hands had gripped the sill, he had vaulted over and stood by her side.

"I sent on my advance guard, and waited till her return. Did you think you had hidden yourself where I could not find you? I should have found you wherever you had gone; but as it happens it was easy enough. You forgot that you had forwarded flowers to your friend in hospital! She was ready enough to give me your address. And now--_Claire_"--he held out his hands, gazing down into her face--"what have you to say to me now?"

Instinctively Claire's hands stretched out to meet his, but on the following impulse she drew back, clasping them nervously behind her back.

"Oh, are you _sure_?" she cried breathlessly. "Are you _sure_ you are sure? Think what it means! Think of the difference it might make! I have no money, no influence; I'd be an expense to you, and a drag when another girl might help. Think! Think! Oh, do be quite sure!"

Erskine's stern eyes melted into a beautiful tenderness as he looked at her troubled face. He waited no longer, but came a step nearer, and took forcible possession of the hidden hands.

"It is not my feelings which are in question; it is _yours_. There has been no doubt in my mind for months past. I think you know that, Claire!"

"But--your career?"

"I can look after my own career. Do you think it is the straight thing to suggest to a soldier that he needs a woman to help him in his work?

It's not as a soldier I need you, but as a man. I need you there, Claire. I need you badly! No one else could help me as you can!"

Claire's lips quivered, but still she hung back, standing away from him at the length of her stretched arms.

"I've no money. I'm a--a school-mistress. Your friends will think--"

"I am not considering what my friends will think."

"Your mother thought--"

"I am not asking you to marry my mother. Mothers of only sons are hard to please, but you know as well as I can tell you that the mater is fond of you at heart, and that she will grow fonder still. She had her own ideas, and she fought for them, but she won't fight any more. You mustn't be hard on the mater, Claire. She has done her best for me to- day."

"I know! I know! I was sorry for her. Sorrier than I was for myself.

It's so hard that I should have come between you two!"

At that Erskine laughed, a short, impatient laugh.

"Oh, Claire, Claire, how long are you going to waste time in discussing other people's feelings, before you tell me about your own? Darling, I'm in love with you!--I'm in love for the first time in my life. I'm impatient. I'm waiting. There's no one in the world for me at this moment but just yourself; I'm waiting for you to forget every one but me. Do you love me, Claire?"