The Price of Things Part 37

"There must only be the fewest words, because I don't know what terms they were on. I think a postcard, if we get one, would be the best thing."

"Of course?--I have some one who can see to that--it will be worth waiting the week for--we'll procure several, and meanwhile you must practise his hand."

At the end of half an hour a very creditable forgery had been secured, and the two jealous beings felt satisfied with their work for the time.

CHAPTER XX

It had been arranged that Denzil and his mother should spend Christmas with Amaryllis at Ardayre. Both felt that it was going to be the most wonderful moment when they should meet. There were no obstacles now to their happiness and everything promised to be full of joy. The months which had gone by since John's death had been turning Amaryllis into a more serene and forceful being. The whole burden of the estate had fallen upon her young shoulders and she had endeavoured to carry it with dignity and success--and yet have time to spare for her war organisations in the county. She had developed extraordinarily and had grown from a very pretty girl into a most beautiful young woman. What would Denzil think of her? That was her preoccupation--and what would he think of the baby Benedict?

The great rooms at Ardayre were shut up except the green drawing room, and she lived in her own apartments, the cedar parlour being her chief pleasure. It was now filled with her books and all the personal belongings which expressed her taste. The nurseries for the heir were just above.

Her guests were to be there on the twenty-third of December, and when the hour came for the motor to arrive from the station Amaryllis grew hot and cold with excitement. She had made herself look quite exquisite in a soft black frock, and her heart was beating almost to suffocation when she heard the footsteps in the hall. Then the green drawing room door opened and Colonel and Mrs. Ardayre were announced and were immediately greeted by the great tawny dogs and then by their mistress. A pang contracted her heart when she caught sight of Denzil--he was so very pale and thin, and he walked painfully and slowly with a stick. It was only a wreck of the splendid lover who had come to Ardayre before. But he was always Denzil of the ardent eyes and the crisp bronze hair!

They were people of the world, and so the welcoming speeches went off easily, and they sat round the tea-table with its singing kettle and its delectable buns and Devonshire cream, and Amaryllis was gracious and radiant and full of dignity and charm. But inwardly she felt deliciously shy and happy.

They had neither met nor written any love letters since the April day when they had parted in Brook Street, which now seemed to be an age away.

Her attraction for Denzil had increased a hundredfold. He thought as she sat there pouring out the tea, of how he would woo her with subtlety before he would claim her for his own. He was stimulated by her sweet shyness and her tender aloofness. The tea seemed to him to be interminably long and he wished for it to end.

Mrs. Ardayre behaved with admirable tact; she spoke of all sorts of light and friendly things, and then asked about the baby. Was he not wonderful, now at seven months old!

The lovely vivid pink deepened in Amaryllis' smooth velvet cheeks, and her grey eyes became soft as a doe's.

"You shall see him in the morning--he will be asleep now. Of course, to me he is wonderful, but I daresay he is only an ordinary child."

She had peeped at Denzil and had seen that his face fell a little as she said they should only see the baby the next day, and she had felt a wave of joy. She knew that she meant to take him up quietly presently--just he and she alone!

After they had finished tea, Mrs. Ardayre suggested that she should go to her room.

"I am tired, Amaryllis, my dear," she announced cheerily,--"and I shall rest for an hour before dinner."

"Come then and I will show you both your rooms."

They came up the broad staircase with her, Denzil a step at a time, slowly, and at the top she stopped and said to him:

"Perhaps you will remember that is the door of the cedar parlour at the end of the pa.s.sage--you will find me there when I have installed your mother comfortably. Your room is next to hers," and she pointed to two doors through the archway of the gallery. Then she went on with Mrs. Ardayre.

Some contrary nervousness made her remain for quite a little while.

Was Cousin Beatrice sure that she was comfortable? Had she everything she wanted? Her maid was already unpacking, and all was warm and fresh scented with lavender and bowls of violets on the dressing table.

"My dear child, it is Paradise, and you are a perfect angel--I shall revel in it after the cold journey down."

So at last there was no excuse to stay longer, and Amaryllis left the room; but in the pa.s.sage it seemed as though her knees were trembling, and as she pa.s.sed the top of the staircase she leaned for a second or two on the bal.u.s.trade.

The longed for moment had come!

When she opened the door of the cedar parlour, with its soft lamps and great glowing logs, she saw Denzil was already there, seated on the sofa beside the fire.

She ran to him before he could rise, the movement she knew was pain to him--and she sank down beside him and held out her hands.

"Beloved darling!" he whispered in exaltation, and she slipped forward into his arms.

Oh! the bliss of it all! After the months of separation, and the horrible trenches and the battles and the suffering, the days and nights of agonising pain! It seemed to Denzil that his being melted within him--Heaven itself had come.

They could not speak coherently for some moments, everything was too filled with holy joy.

"At last! at last!" he cried presently. "Now we shall part no more!"

Then he had to be a.s.sured that she loved him still.

"It is I who must take care of you now, Denzil, and I shall love to do that," she cooed.

"I have not thought much of the hurt," he answered her, "for all these months I have just been living for this day, and now it has come, darling one, and I can hardly believe that it is true, it is so absolutely divine--"

They could not talk of anything but themselves and love for an hour, they told each other of their longings and anxieties--and at last they spoke of John.

"He was so splendid," Denzil said, "unselfish to the very end," and then he described to Amaryllis how he actually had died, and of his last words, and their thought for her.

"If he could see us, I think that he would be glad that we are happy."

"I know that he would," but the tears had gathered in her eyes.

Denzil stroked her hand gently; he did not make any lover's caress, and she appreciated his understanding, and after a little she leaned against his arm.

"Denzil--when we live here together, we must always try to carry out all that John would have wished to do. It meant his very soul--and you will help me to be a worthy mother of the Ardayre son."

She had not spoken of the child before--some unaccountable shyness had restrained her, even in their fondest moments. And yet the thought had never been absent from either. It had throbbed there in their hearts. It was going to be so exquisite to whisper about it presently!

And Denzil had waited until she mentioned this dear interest. He did not wish to a.s.sume any rights, or take anything for granted. She should be queen, not only of his heart, but of everything, until she should herself accord him authority.

But his eyes grew wistful now as he leaned nearer to her.

"Darling, am I not going to be allowed to see--my son!"

Then, with a cry, Amaryllis bent forward and was clasped in his arms. All her wayward shyness melted, and she poured forth her delight in the baby--their very own!

"You will see that he is just you, Denzil,--as we knew that he would be, and now I will go and fetch him for you and bring him here, because the stairs up to the nursery are so steep they might hurt you to climb."

She left him swiftly, and was not long gone, and Denzil sat there by the fire trembling with an emotion which he could not have described in words.

The door opened again and Amaryllis returned with the tiny sleeping form, in its long white nightgown and wrapped in a great fleecy shawl.

She crept up to him very softly. The little one was sound asleep. She made a sign to Denzil not to rise, and she bent down and placed the bundle tenderly in his arms.