CHAPTER VI
The more he thought over his visit to Adela Sellingworth the morecertain did Francis Braybrooke become that it had not gone off well.For once he had not played his cards to the best advantage. He felt surethat inadvertently he had irritated his hostess. Her final dismissal ofthe subject of young Craven's possible happiness with Beryl Van Tuyn, ifcircumstances should ever bring them together, had been very abrupt. Shehad really almost kicked it out of the conversation.
But then, she had never been fond of discussing love affairs. Braybrookehad noticed that.
As he considered the matter he began to feel rather uneasy. Was itpossible that Adela Sellingworth--his mind hesitated, then took theunpleasant leap--that Adela Sellingworth was beginning to like youngCraven in an unsuitable way?
Craven certainly had behaved oddly when Adela Sellingworth had beendiscussed between them, and when Craven had been the subject ofdiscussion with Adela Sellingworth she had behaved curiously. Therewas something behind it all. Of that Braybrooke was convinced. But hisperplexity and doubt increased to something like agitation a few dayslater when he met a well-born woman of his acquaintance, who had "gonein for" painting and living her own life, and had become a bit of aBohemian. She had happened to mention that she had seen his friend,"that wonderful-looking Lady Sellingworth," dining at the _Bella Napoli_on a recent evening. Naturally Braybrooke supposed that the allusion wasto the night of Lady Sellingworth's dinner with Beryl Van Tuyn, andhe spoke of the lovely girl as Lady Sellingworth's companion. But hisinformant, looking rather surprised, told him that Lady Sellingworthhad been with a very handsome young man, and, on discreet inquiry beingmade, gave an admirable description from the painter's point of view, ofCraven.
Braybrooke said nothing, but he was secretly almost distressed. Hethought it such a mistake for his distinguished friend to go wanderingabout in Soho alone with a mere boy. It was undignified. It was not thething. He could not understand it unless really she was losing her head.And then he remembered her past. Although he never spoke of it, and nowseldom thought about it, Braybrooke knew very well what sort of womanAdela Sellingworth had been. But her dignified life of ten years hadreally almost wiped her former escapades out of his recollection.There seemed to be a gulf fixed between the professional beauty and thewhite-haired recluse of Berkeley Square. When he looked at her, sat withher now, if he ever gave a thought to her past it was accompanied, orimmediately followed, by a mental question: "Was it _she_ who did that?"or "Can _she_ ever have been like that?"
But now Braybrooke uneasily began to remember Lady Sellingworth's pastreputation and to think of the "old guard."
If she were to fall back into folly now, after what she had done tenyears ago, the "old guard" would show her no mercy. Her character wouldbe torn to pieces. He regretted very much his introduction of Craveninto her life. But how could he have thought that she would fascinate aboy?
After much careful thought--for he took his social responsibilities andduties very seriously--he resolved to take action on the lines which hadoccurred to him when he first began to be anxious about Craven's feelingtowards Adela Sellingworth; he resolved to do his best to bring BerylVan Tuyn and Craven together.
The first step he took was to call on Miss Cronin when Beryl VanTuyn was out. He went to Claridge's in inquire for Miss Van Tuyn.On ascertaining that she was not at home he sent up his name toMiss Cronin, who was practically always in the house. At any rate,Braybrooke, who had met her several times at Miss Van Tuyn's apartmentin Paris, had understood so from herself. If Miss Van Tuyn needed her asa chaperon she was, of course, to be counted upon to risk taking air andexercise. Otherwise, as she frankly said, she preferred to stay quietlyat home. By nature she was sedentary. Her temperament inclined her toa sitting posture, which, however, she frequently varied by definitelylying down.
On this occasion Miss Cronin was as usual in the house, and begged thatMr. Braybrooke would come up. He found her in an arm-chair--she had justvacated a large sofa--with Bourget's "_Le Disciple_" in her hand. Hereyebrows were rather dim, for she had caught a slight London cold whichhad led her to neglect them. But she was looking mildly cheerful, andwas very glad to have a visitor. Though quite happy alone with Bourgetshe was always ready for a comfortable gossip; and she liked FrancisBraybrooke.
After a few words about the cold, Bourget and Paris, Braybrooke turnedthe conversation to Miss Van Tuyn. He had understood that she meant onlyto make a short stay in London, and rather wondered about the change ofplans which had brought Miss Cronin across the Channel. Miss Cronin, hesoon discovered, was rather wondering too.
"Beryl seems to have been quite got hold of by London," she observedwith mild surprise.
After a pause she added:
"It may be--mind I don't say it is, but it may be--the WallaceCollection."
"The Wallace Collection?" said Braybrooke.
"I believe she goes there every day. It is in Manchester Square, isn'tit?"
"Oh, yes."
"Then I think it must be that. Because two or three times lately I haveheard her mention Manchester Square as if it were very much on her mind.Once I remember her saying that Manchester Square was worth all the restof London put together! And another time she said that Manchester squareought to be in Paris. That struck me as very strange, but after makinginquiries I found that the Wallace Collection was situated there, ornear there."
"Hertford House is in the Square."
"Then it is that. You know how wrapped up Beryl is in that kind ofthing. And, of course, she knows all the Paris collections by heart. Isthe Wallace Collection large? Does it contain much?"
"It contains innumerable priceless treasures," returned Braybrooke.
"Innumerable! Dear me!" murmured Fanny Cronin, managing to lift thedimly painted eyebrows in a distinctively plaintive manner. "Then I daresay we shall be here for months."
"You don't think," began Braybrooke with exquisite caution, "you don'tthink that possibly she may have a more human reason for remaining inLondon?"
Fanny Cronin made a rabbit's mouth and looked slightly bemused.
"Human!" she said. "You think Beryl could have a human reason?"
"Oh, surely, surely!"
"But she prefers bronzes to people. I assure you it is so. I have heardher say that you can never be disappointed by a really good bronze, butthat men and women often distress you by their absurdities and follies."
"That sort of thing is only the outcome of a passing mood of youthfulcynicism."
"Is it? I sometimes think that a born collector, like Beryl, sees morein bronze and marble than in flesh and blood. She is very sweet, but shehas quite a passion for possessing."
"Is not the greatest possession of all the possession of another's humanheart?" said Braybrooke impressively, and with sentiment.
"I dare say it is, but really I cannot speak from experience," saidFanny Cronin, with remarkable simplicity.
"Has it never occurred to you," continued Braybrooke, "that your lovelycharge is not likely to remain always Beryl Van Tuyn?"
Miss Cronin looked startled, and slightly moved her ears, a curioushabit which she sometimes indulged in under the influence of suddenemotion, and which was indicative of mental stress.
"But if Beryl ever marries," she said, "I might have to give up livingin Paris! I might have to go back to America!"
She leaned forward, with her small, plump, and conspicuously freckledhands grasping the arms of her chair.
"You don't think, Mr. Braybrooke, that Beryl is not here for the WallaceCollection? You don't think that she is in love with someone in London?"
Francis Braybrooke was decidedly taken aback by this abrupt emotionaloutburst. He had not meant to provoke it. Indeed, in hispreoccupation with Craven's affairs and Adela Sellingworth's possibleindiscretions--really he knew of no gentler word to apply to what hehad in mind--he had entirely forgotten that Fanny Cronin's charmingprofession of sitting in deep arm-chairs, reposing on luxurious sofas,and lying i
n perfect French beds, might, indeed would, be drasticallyinterfered with by Miss Van Tuyn's marriage. It was very careless ofhim. He was inclined to blame himself almost severely.
"My dear Miss Cronin," he hastily exclaimed. "If you were ever to thinkof changing your--your"--he could not find the word; "condition" wouldnot do; "state of life" suggested the Catechism; "profession" waspreposterous, besides, he did not mean that--"your sofa"--he had gotit--"your sofa in the Avenue Henri Martin for a sofa somewhere else, Iknow of at least a dozen charming houses in Paris which would gladly, Imight say thankfully, open their doors to receive you."
This was really a lie. At the moment Braybrooke did not know of one.But he hastily made up his mind to be "responsible" for Fanny Cronin ifanything should occur through his amiable machinations.
"Thank you, Mr. Braybrooke. You are kindness itself. So, then, Beryl_is_ going to marry! And she never hinted it to me, although we talkedover marriage only yesterday, when I gave her Bourget's views on it asexpressed in his '_Physiologie de l'amour moderne_.' She never said oneword. She never--"
But at this point Braybrooke felt that an interruption, however rude,was obligatory.
"I have no reason whatever to suppose that Miss Van Tuyn is thinking ofmarriage at this moment," he said, in an almost shrill voice.
"But surely you would not frighten me without a reason," said FannyCronin with mild severity, sitting back again in her chair.
"Frighten you, dear Miss Cronin! I would not do that for the world. Whathave I said to frighten you?"
"You talked of my changing my sofa for a sofa somewhere else! If Berylis not going to marry why should I think of changing?"
"But nothing lasts for ever. The whole world is in a state of flux."
"Really, Mr. Braybrooke! I am quite sure _I_ am not in a state of flux!"said Miss Cronin with unusual dignity. "We American women, you mustunderstand, have our principles and know how to preserve them."
"On my honour, I only meant that life inevitably brings with it changes.I am sure you will bear me out in that."
"I don't know about bearing you out," said Miss Cronin, looking ratherhelplessly at Francis Braybrooke's fairly tall and well-nourishedfigure. "But why should Beryl want to change? She is very happy as sheis."
"I know--I know. But surely such a lovely girl is certain to marry someday. And can we wish it otherwise? Some day a man will come who knowshow to appreciate her as she deserves, who understands her nature, whois ready to devote his life to fulfilling her deepest needs."
Miss Cronin suddenly looked intelligent and at the same time like adragon. Never before had Braybrooke seen such an expression upon herface, such a stiffening of dignity to her ample figure. She sat straightup, looked him full in the face, and observed:
"I understand your meaning, Mr. Braybrooke. You wish to marry Beryl.Well, you must forgive me for saying that I think you are much too oldfor her."
Braybrooke had not blushed for probably at least forty years, buthe blushed scarlet now, and seized his beard with a hand that lookedthoroughly unstrung.
"My dear Miss Cronin!" he said, in a voice which was almost hoarse withprotest. "You absolutely misunderstood me. It is much too la--I meanthat I have no intention whatever of changing my condition. No, no!Let us talk of something else. So you are reading '_Le Disciple_'" (hepicked it up). "A very striking book! I always think it one of Bourget'svery best."
He poured forth an energetic cataract of words in praise of MissCronin's favourite author, and presently got away without any furtherquite definite misunderstanding. But when he was out in the corridor onhis way to the lift he indulged himself in a very unwonted expression ofacrimonious condemnation.
"Damn these red-headed old women!" he muttered in his beard. "There'sno doing anything with them! The idea of my going to her to propose forMiss Van Tuyn! What next, I wonder?"
When he was out in Brook Street he hesitated for a moment, then took outhis watch and looked at it. Half-past three! He thought of the WallaceCollection. It seemed to draw him strangely just then. He put his watchback and walked towards Manchester Square.
He had gained the Square and was about to enter the enclosure beforeHertford House by the gateway on the left, when he saw Miss Van Tuyncome out by the gateway on the right, and walk slowly towards OxfordStreet in deep conversation with a small horsey-looking man, whose facehe could not see, but whose back and legs, and whose dress and headgear,strongly suggested to him the ring at Newmarket and the Paddock atAscot.
Braybrooke hesitated. The attraction of the Wallace Collection no longerdrew him. Besides, it was getting late. On the other hand, he scarcelyliked to interrupt an earnest tete-a-tete. If it had not been that hewas exceptionally strung up at that moment he would probably have gonequietly off to one of his clubs. But who knew what that foolish oldwoman at Claridge's might say to Miss Van Tuyn when she reached herhotel? It really was essential in the sacred interest of truth that heshould forestall Fanny Cronin. The jockey--if it was a jockey--Miss VanTuyn was with must put up with an interruption. But the interruptionmust be brought about naturally. It would not do to come up behind them.That would seem too intrusive. He must manage to skip round deftly whenthe occasion offered, and by a piece of masterly strategy to come uponthem face to face.
Seized of this intention Braybrooke did a thing he had never donebefore; he "dogged" two human beings, walking with infinite precaution.
His quarry presently turned into the thronging crowds of Oxford Streetand made towards the Marble Arch, keeping to the right-hand pavement.Braybrooke saw his opportunity. He dodged across the road to an island,waited there till a policeman, extending a woollen thumb, stopped thetraffic, then gained the opposite pavement, hurried decorously on thatside towards the Marble Arch, and after a sprint of perhaps a couple ofhundred yards recrossed the street almost at the risk of his life, andwalked warily back towards Oxford Circus, keeping his eyes wide open.
Before many minutes had passed he discerned the graceful and athleticfigure of Miss Van Tuyn coming towards him; then, immediatelyafterwards, he caught a glimpse of a blue shaven face with an aquilinenose beside her, and realized that the man he had taken for a jockey wasDick Garstin, the famous painter.
As Braybrooke knew everyone, he, of course, knew Garstin, and hewondered now why he had not recognized his back at Manchester Square.Perhaps his mind had been too engrossed with Fanny Cronin and theoutrage at Claridge's. He only knew the painter slightly, justsufficiently to dislike him very much. Indeed, only the acknowledgedeminence of the man induced Braybrooke to have anything to do withhim. But one has to know publicly acclaimed geniuses or consent to bethoroughly out of it. So Braybrooke included Garstin in the enormouscircle of his acquaintances, and went to his private views.
But now the recognition gave him pause, and he almost wished he had nottaken so much trouble to meet Miss Van Tuyn and her companion. For hecould say nothing he wanted to say while Garstin was there. And theman was so damnably unconventional, in fact, so downright rude, and sototally devoid of all delicacy, all insight in social matters, thateven if he saw that Braybrooke wanted a quiet word with Miss Van Tuynhe would probably not let him have it. However, it was too late now toavoid the steadily advancing couple. Miss Van Tuyn had seen Braybrooke,and sent him a smile. In a moment he was face to face with them, and shestopped to greet him.
"I have been spending an hour at the Wallace Collection with Mr.Garstin," she said. "And quarrelling with him all the time. His views onFrench art are impossible."
"Ah! how are you?" said Braybrooke, addressing the painter with almostexaggerated cordiality.
Garstin nodded in his usual offhand way. He did not dislike Braybrooke.When Braybrooke was there he perceived him, having eyes, and havingears heard his voice. But hitherto Braybrooke had never succeeded inconveying any impression to the mind of Garstin. On one occasion whenBraybrooke had been discussed in Garstin's presence, and Garstin hadsaid: "Who is he?" and had received a description of Braybrooke with theaddi
tional information: "But he comes to your private views! You haveknown him for years!" he had expressed his appreciation of Braybrooke'spersonality and character by the exclamation: "Oh, to be sure! The beardwith the gentleman!" Braybrooke did not know this, or he would certainlyhave disliked Garstin even more than he did already.
As Garstin's nod was not followed by any other indication of humanityBraybrooke addressed Miss Van Tuyn, and told her of his call atClaridge's.
"And as you were not to be found I paid a visit to Miss Cronin."
"She must have bored you very much," was the charming girl's comment."She has the most confused mind I know."
What an opening for Braybrooke! But he could not take it because ofGarstin, who stood by cruelly examining the stream of humanity whichflowed past them hypnotized by the shops.
"May I--shall I be in the way if I turn back with you for a few steps?"he ventured, with the sort of side glance at Garstin that a male doggives to another male dog while walking round and round on a firstmeeting. "It is such a pleasure to see you."
Here he threw very definite admiration into the eyes which he fixed onMiss Van Tuyn.
She responded automatically and begged him to accompany them.
"Dick is leaving me at the Marble Arch," she said. "The reason he givesis that he is going to take a Turkish Bath in the Harrow Road. But thatis a lie that even an American girl brought up in Paris is unable toswallow. What are you really going to do, Dick?"
As she spoke she walked on, having Garstin on one side of her andFrancis Braybrooke on the other.
"I'm going to have a good sweat in the Harrow Road."
Braybrooke was disgusted. It was not that he really minded the wordused to indicate the process which obtains in a Turkish Bath. No; it wasGarstin's blatant way of speaking it that offended his susceptibilities.The man was perpetually defying the decencies and delicacies which wereas perfume in Braybrooke's nostrils.
"The doctors say that it is an excellent thing to open the pores," saidBraybrooke discreetly.
Garstin cast a glance at him, as if he now saw him for the first time.
"Do you mean to tell us you believe in doctors?" he said.
"I do, in some doctors," said Braybrooke. "There are charlatans in allprofessions unfortunately."
"And some of them are R.A.'s," said Miss Van Tuyn. "By the way, Dick isgoing to paint me."
"Really! How very splendid!" said Braybrooke, again with exaggeratedcordiality. "With such a subject I'm sure--"
But here he was interrupted by Garstin, who said:
"She tells everyone I'm going to paint her because she hopes byreiteration to force me to do it. But she isn't the type that interestsme."
"My dear Dick, I'll gladly take to morphia or drink if it will help,"said Miss Van Tuyn. "I can easily get the Cafe Royal expression. One hasonly to sit with a glass of something the colour of absinthe in front ofone and look sea-sick. I'm perfectly certain that with a week or two'spractice I could look quite as degraded as Cora."
"Cora?" said Braybrooke, alertly, hearing a name he did not know.
"She's a horror who goes to the Cafe Royal and whom Dick calls a freewoman."
"Free from all the virtues, I suppose!" said Braybrooke smartly.
"Good-bye both of you!" said Garstin at this juncture.
"But we haven't got to the Marble Arch!"
"What's that got to do with it? I'm off."
He seemed to be going, then stopped, and directed the two pin-points oflight at Miss Van Tuyn.
"I flatly refuse to make an Academy portrait of you, so don't hope forit," he said. "But if you come along to the studio to-morrow afternoonyou may possibly find me at work on a blackmailer."
"Dick!" said Miss Van Tuyn, in a voice which startled Braybrooke.
"I don't promise," said the painter. "I don't believe in promises,unless you break 'em. But it's just on the cards."
"You are painting a blackmailer!" said Braybrooke, with an air ofearnest interest. "How very original!"
"Original! Why is it original to paint a blackmailer?"
"Oh--well, one doesn't often run across them. They--they seem to keep somuch to themselves."
"I don't agree with you. If they did some people would be a good dealbetter off than they are now."
"Ah, to be sure! That's very true. I had never looked at it in thatlight."
"What time, Dick?" said Miss Van Tuyn, rather eagerly.
"You might look in about three."
"I will. That's a bargain."
Garstin turned on his heel and tramped away towards Berkeley Street.
"You are going home by Park Lane?" said Braybrooke, feeling greatlyrelieved, but still rather upset.
"Yes. But why don't you take me somewhere to tea?"
"Nothing I should like better. Where shall we go?"
"Let's go to the Ritz. I had meant to walk, but let us take a taxi."
There was suddenly a change in Miss Van Tuyn. Braybrooke noticed it atonce. She seemed suddenly restless, almost excited, and as if she werein a hurry.
"There's one!" she added, lifting her tightly furled umbrella.
The driver stopped, and in a moment they were on their way to the Ritz.
"You like Dick Garstin?" said Braybrooke, pulling up one of the windowsand wondering what Miss Cronin would say if she could see him at thismoment.
"I don't like him," returned Miss Van Tuyn. "No one could do that. But Iadmire him, and he interests me. He is almost the only man I know whois really indifferent to opinion. And he has occasional moments of goodnature. But I don't wish him to be soft. If he were he would be likeeveryone else."
"I must confess I find it very difficult to get on with him."
"He's a wonderful painter."
"No doubt--in his way."
"I think it a great mistake for any creative artist to be wonderful insomeone else's way," said Miss Van Tuyn.
"I only meant that his way is sometimes rather startling. And thenhis subjects! Drugged women! Dram drinking men! And now it seems evenblackmailers."
"A blackmailer might have a wonderful face."
"Possibly. But it would be likely to have a disgusting expression."
"It might. On the other hand, I could imagine a blackmailer looking likeChaliapine as Mephistopheles."
"I don't like distressing art," said Braybrooke, rather firmly. "And Ithink there is too much of it nowadays."
"Anything is better than the merely nice. And you have far too much ofthat in England. Men like Dick Garstin are a violent protest againstthat, and sometimes they go to extremes. He has caught the secret ofevil, and when he has done with it he may quite possibly catch thesecret of good."
"And then," said Braybrooke, "I am sure he will paint you."
It was meant to be a very charmingly turned compliment. But Miss VanTuyn received it rather doubtfully.
"I don't know that I want to wait quite so long as that," she murmured."Besides--I think I rather come in between. At least, I hope so."
At this point in the conversation the cab stopped before the Ritz.
To Francis Braybrooke's intense astonishment--and it might almost beadded confusion--the first person his eyes lit on as they walked towardsthe tea-tables was Fanny Cronin, comfortably seated in an immensearm-chair, devouring a muffin in the company of an old lady, whosedetermined face was completely covered with a criss-cross of wrinkles,and whose withered hands were flashing with magnificent rings. He was sotaken aback that he was guilty of a definite start, and the exclamation,"Miss Cronin!" in a voice that suggested alarm.
"Oh, old Fanny with Mrs. Clem Hodson!" said Miss Van Tuyn. "She's aschool friend of Fanny's from Philadelphia. Let us go to that table inthe far corner. I'll just speak to them while you order tea."
"But I thought Miss Cronin never went out."
"She never does, except with Mrs. Clem, unless I want her."
"How singularly unfortunate I am to-day!" thought Braybrooke, as hebowed to Miss Cronin in a rather
confused manner and went to do as hewas told.
He ordered tea, then sat down anxiously to wait for Miss Van Tuyn. Fromhis corner he watched her colloquy with the two school friends fromPhiladelphia, and it seemed to him that something very important wasbeing told. For Fanny Cronin looked almost animated, and her mannerapproached the emphatic as she spoke to the standing girl. Mrs. Hodsonseemed to take very little part in the conversation, but sat lookingvery determined and almost imperious as she listened. And presentlyBraybrooke saw her extremely observant dark eyes--small, protuberantand round as buttons--turn swiftly, with even, he thought, a dartingmovement, in his direction.
"I shall be driven, really driven, to make the matter quite clear," hethought, almost with desperation. "Otherwise--"
But at this moment Miss Van Tuyn came away to him, and their tea wasbrought by a waiter.
He thought she cast a rather satirical look at him as she sat down, butshe only said;
"Dear old things! They are very happy together. Mrs. Clem isextraordinarily proud of having 'got Fanny out,' as she calls it. A boywho had successfully drawn a badger couldn't be more triumphant. Nowlet's forget them!"
This was all very well, and Braybrooke asked for nothing better; buthe was totally unable to forget the two cronies, whom he saw in thedistance with their white and chestnut heads alarmingly close together,talking eagerly, and, he was quite sure, not about the dear old days inPhiladelphia. What had they--or rather what had Miss Cronin said toMiss Van Tuyn? He longed to know. It really was essential that he shouldknow. Yet he scarcely knew how to approach the subject. It was ratherdifficult to explain elaborately to a beautiful girl that you had notthe least wish to marry her. He was certainly not at his best as hetook his first cup of tea and sought about for an opening. Miss Van Tuyntalked with her usual assurance, but he fancied that her violet eyeswere full of inquiry when they glanced at him; and he began to feelpositive that the worst had happened, and that Fanny Cronin had informedher--no, misinformed her--of what had happened at Claridge's. Now andthen, as he met Miss Van Tuyn's eyes, he thought they were searchinghis with an unusual consciousness, as if they expected something veryspecial from him. Presently, too, she let the conversation languish, andat last allowed it to drop. In the silence that succeeded Braybrookewas seized by a terrible fear that perhaps she was waiting for him topropose. If he did propose she would refuse him of course. He had nodoubt about that. But though to be accepted by her, or indeed by anyone,would have caused him acute distress, on the other hand no one likes tobe refused.
He thought of Craven. Was it possible to make any use of Craven to gethim out of his difficulty? Dare he hint at the real reason of his visitto Miss Cronin? He had intended delicately to "sound" the chaperonon the subject of matrimony, to find out if there was anything on the_tapis_ in Paris, if Miss Van Tuyn had any special man friend there, inshort to make sure of his ground before deciding to walk on it. But hecould hardly explain that to Miss Van Tuyn. To do so would be almostbrutal, and quite against all his traditions.
Again he caught her eye in the desperate silence. Her gaze seemed tosay to him: "When are you going to begin?" He felt that he must saysomething, even though it were not what she was probably expecting.
"I was interested," he hurriedly began, clasping his beard and lookingaway from his companion, "to hear the other day that a young friend ofmine had met you, a very charming and promising young fellow, who has agreat career before him, unless I am much mistaken."
"Who?" she asked; he thought rather curtly.
"Alick Craven of the Foreign Office. He told me he was introduced to youat Adela Sellingworth's."
"Oh yes, he was," said Miss Van Tuyn.
And she said no more.
"He was very enthusiastic about you," ventured Braybrooke, wondering howto interpret her silence.
"Really!"
"Yes. We belong to the same club, the St. James's. He entertained me formore than an hour with your praises."
Miss Van Tuyn looked at him with rather acute inquiry, as if shecould not make up her mind about something with which he was closelyconcerned.
"He would like to meet you again," said Braybrooke, with soft firmness.
"But I have met him again two or three times. He called on me."
"And I understand you were together in a restaurant in--Soho, I think itwas."
"Yes, we were."
"What did you think of him?" asked Braybrooke.
As he put the question he was aware that he was being far from subtle.The vision in the distance--now eating plum cake, but still veryobservant--upset his nervous system and deprived him almost entirely ofhis usual savoir faire.
"He seems quite a nice sort of boy," said Miss Van Tuyn, still lookingrather coldly inquisitive, as if she were secretly puzzled butintended to emerge into complete understanding before she had donewith Braybrooke. "His Foreign Office manner is rather against him. Butperhaps some day he'll grow out of that--unless it becomes accentuated."
"If you knew him better I feel sure you would like him. He had noreservations about you--none at all. But, then, how could he have?"
"Well, at any rate I haven't got the Foreign Office manner."
"No, indeed!" said Braybrooke, managing a laugh that just indicated hisappreciation of the remark as an excellent little joke. "But it reallymeans nothing."
"That's a pity. One's manner should always have a meaning of some kind.Otherwise it is an absolute drawback to one's personality."
"That is perhaps a fault of the Englishman. But we must remember thatstill waters run deep."
"Do you think so? But if they don't run at all?"
"How do you mean?"
"There is such a thing as the village pond."
"How very trying she is this afternoon!" thought poor Braybrooke,endeavouring mentally to pull up his socks.
"I half promised Craven the other day," he lied, resolutely ignoring herunkind comparison of his protege to the abomination which is too oftenveiled with duckweed, "to contrive another meeting between you and him.But I fear he has bored you. And in that case perhaps I ought not tohold to my promise. You meet so many brilliant Frenchmen that I daresay our slower, but really I sometimes think deeper, mentality scarcelyappeals to you."
(At this point he saw Fanny Cronin leaning impressively towards Mrs.Clem Hodson, as if about to impart some very secret information to thatlady, who bent to receive it.)
"Again those deep waters!" said Miss Van Tuyn, this time withunmistakable satire. "But perhaps you are right. I remember a verybrilliant American, who knew practically all the nations of Europe,telling me that in his opinion you English were the subtlest--I'm afraidhe was rude enough to say the most artful--of the lot."
As she spoke the word "artful" her fine eyes smiled straight intoBraybrooke's, and she pinched her red lips together very expressively.
"But I must confess," she added, "that at the moment we were discussingdiplomats."
"Artful was rather unkind," murmured Braybrooke. "I--I hope you don'tthink my friend Craven is one of that type?"
"Oh, I wasn't thinking of Mr. Craven."
The implication was fairly obvious, and Braybrooke did not miss it,although he was not in possession of his full mental powers.
"Perhaps it is our own fault," he said. "But I think we English areoften misunderstood."
As he spoke he shot a rather poignant glance in the direction of FannyCronin, who had now finished her tea, and was gathering her fur cloakabout her as if in preparation for departure.
"In fact," he added, "I am sure of it. This very day even--"
He paused, wondering how to put it, yet feeling that he really must atall costs make matters fairly clear to his companion.
"Yes?" said Miss Van Tuyn sweetly.
"To-day, this afternoon, I think that your dear Miss Cronin failed onceor twice to grasp my full meaning when I was talking with her."
"Oh, Fanny! But she's an old fool! Of course she's a dear, and I'm veryfond of her, bu
t she is essentially nebulous. And what was it that youthink she misunderstood?"
Braybrooke hesitated. It really was very difficult to put what he wantedto say into words. Scarcely ever before had he felt himself so incapableof dealing adequately with a socially awkward situation. If only he knewwhat Miss Cronin had said to Miss Van Tuyn while he was ordering tea!
"I could scarcely say I know. I really could not put my finger upon it,"he said at last. "There was a general atmosphere of confusion, or so itseemed to me. We--we discussed marriage."
"I hope the old dear didn't think you were proposing to her?"
"Good heavens--oh, no! no! I don't quite know what she thought." (Helowered his eyes.) "But it wasn't that."
"That's a mercy at any rate!"
Braybrooke still kept his eyes on the ground, but a dogged look cameinto his face, and he said, speaking more resolutely:
"I'm afraid I alarmed dear Miss Cronin."
"How perfectly splendid!" said Miss Van Tuyn.
"She is very fond of you."
"Much fonder of Bourget!"
"I don't think so," he said, with emphasis. "She is so devoted toyou that quite inadvertently I alarmed her. After all, we were--wewere"--nobly he decided to take the dreadful plunge--"we were twoelderly people talking together as elderly people will, I thought quitefreely and frankly, and I ventured--do forgive me--to hint that a greatmany men must wish to marry you; young men suited to you, promising men,men with big futures before them, anxious for a brilliant and beautifulwife."
"That was very charming and solicitous of you," said Miss Van Tuyn witha smile. "But I don't know that they do!"
"Do what?" said Braybrooke, almost losing his head, as he saw thevision in the distance, now cloaked and gloved, rustling in an evidentpreparation for something, which might be departure or might on theother hand be approach.
She observed him with a definite surprise, which she seemed desirous ofshowing.
"I was alluding to the promising men," she said.
"Which men?" asked Braybrooke, still hypnotized by the vision.
"The men with big futures before them who you were kind enough to tellFanny were longing to marry me."
"Oh, yes!" (With a great effort he pulled himself together.) "Those mento be sure!"
The vision was now standing up and apparently disputing the bill, for itwas evidently talking at great length to a man in livery, who had a slipof paper in his hand, and who occasionally pointed to it in a resentfulmanner and said something, whereupon the vision made negative gesturesand there was much tossing and shaking of heads. Resolutely Braybrookelooked away. It was nothing to do with him even if the Ritz was tryingto make an overcharge for plum cake.
"I just hinted that there must be men who--but you understand?"
Miss Van Tuyn smiled unembarrassed assent.
"And then Miss Cronin"--he lowered his voice--"seemed thoroughly upset.I scarcely knew what she thought I meant, but whatever it was I had notmeant it. That is certain. But the fact is she is so devoted to you thatthe mere fact of your some day doing what all lovely and charming womenare asked to do and usually consent to do--but--but Miss Cronin seemsto--I think she wants to say something to you."
Miss Van Tuyn looked suddenly rather rebellious. She did not glancetowards the Philadelphia school friends, but turned her shoulder towardsthem and said:
"Naturally my marriage would make a great difference to Fanny, but Ihave never known her to worry about it."
"She is worrying now!" said poor Braybrooke, with earnest conviction."But really she--I am sure she wishes to speak to you."
The line showed itself in Miss Van Tuyn's forehead.
"Will you be kind and just go and ask her what she wants? Pleasetell her that I am not coming back yet as I am going to call on LadySellingworth when I leave here."
Braybrooke got up, trying to conceal his reluctance to obey. MissCronin, entrenched as it were behind her old school friend, and withdawnings of the dragon visible beneath her feathered hat, and even,strangely, mysteriously, underneath her long cloak of musquash, wasendeavouring by signs and wonders to attract her Beryl's attention,while Mrs. Clem Hodson stood looking imperious, and ready for any actionthat would prove her solidarity with her old schoolmate.
"What she wants--and you are going to call on Lady Sellingworth!" saidBraybrooke.
"Yes; and to-night I'm dining out."
"Dining out to-night--just so."
There was no further excuse for delay, and he went towards the two oldladies, a grievous ambassador. It really had been the most unpleasantafternoon he remembered to have spent. He began to feel almost infault, almost as if he had done--or at the least had contemplateddoing--something outrageous, something for which he deserved thepunishment which was now being meted out to him. As he slowly approachedMiss Cronin he endeavoured resolutely to bear himself like a man who hadnot proposed that day for Miss Van Tuyn's hand. But preposterously, MissCronin's absurd misconception seemed to have power over his conscience,and that again over his appearance and gait. He was fully aware, as hewent forward to convey Miss Van Tuyn's message, that he made a very poorshow of it. In fact, he was just then living up to Dick's description ofhim as "the beard with the gentleman."
"Oh, Mr. Braybrooke," said Miss Cronin as he came up, "so you are herewith Beryl!"
"Yes; so I am here with Miss Van Tuyn!"
Miss Cronin exchanged a glance with Mrs. Clem Hodson.
"You didn't tell me when you called that you were taking her out totea!"
"No, I didn't!" said Braybrooke.
"This is my old schoolmate, Mrs. Clem Hodson. Suzanne, this is Mr.Braybrooke, a friend of Beryl's."
Mrs. Clem Hodson bowed from the waist, and looked at Braybrooke withthe expression of one who knew a great deal more about him than his ownmother knew.
"This hotel overcharges," she said firmly.
"Really! I should have scarcely have thought--"
"There were two pieces of plum cake on the bill, and we only ate one."
"Oh, I've just remembered," said Miss Cronin, as if irradiated withsudden light.
"What, dear?"
"I _did_ have two slices. One was before the muffin, while we werewaiting for it, and the other was after. And I only remembered thesecond."
"In that case, dear, we've done the waiter an injustice and libelled thehotel."
"I will make it all right if you will allow me," said Braybrooke almostobsequiously. "I'm well known here. I will explain to the manager, amost charming man."
He turned definitely to face Fanny Cronin.
"Miss Van Tuyn asked me to tell you what she wants."
"Indeed! Does she want something?"
"No. I mean she told me to ask you what you want."
Miss Cronin looked at Mrs. Clem Hodson, hesitated, and then made a verydefinite rabbit's mouth.
"I don't know that I want anything, thank you, Mr. Braybrooke. But ifBeryl is going--she is not going?"
"I really don't know exactly."
"She hasn't finished her tea, perhaps?"
"I don't know for certain. But she asked me to tell you she wasn'tcoming back yet"--the two old ladies exchanged glances which Braybrookelonged to contradict--"as she is going to call on Lady Sellingworthpresently."
"Ah!" said Mrs. Clem Hodson, gazing steadily at Fanny Cronin.
"In Berkeley Square!" added Braybrooke emphatically. "And to-night sheis dining out."
"Did she say where?" asked Miss Cronin, slightly moving her ears.
"No; she didn't."
"Thank you," said Miss Cronin. "Good-bye, Mr. Braybrooke."
She held out her hand like one making a large and difficult concessionto her own Christianity. Mrs. Clem Hodson bowed again from the waist andalso made a concession. She muttered, "Very glad to have met you!" andthen cleared her throat, while the criss-cross of wrinkles moved allover her face.
"I will make it all right with the manager," said Braybrooke, withover-anxious earnestness, a
nd feeling now quite definitely that hemust really have proposed to Miss Cronin for Miss Van Tuyn's hand thatafternoon, and that he must have just lied about the disposal of hertime until she had to dress for dinner.
"The manager?" said Miss Cronin.
"What manager?" said Mrs. Clem Hodson.
"About the plum cake! Surely you remember?"
"Oh--the plum cake!" said Mrs. Hodson, looking steadily at Fanny Cronin."Thank you very much indeed! Very good of you!"
"Thank you," said Miss Cronin, with a sudden piteous look. "I did eattwo slices. Come, Suzanne! Good-bye again, Mr. Braybrooke."
They turned to go out. As Braybrooke watched the musquash slowlyvanishing he knew in his bones that, when he did not become engagedto Miss Van Tuyn, Fanny Cronin, till the day of her death, wouldfeel positive that he had proposed to her that afternoon and had beenrejected. And he muttered in his beard:
"Damn these red-headed old women! I will _not_ make it all right withthe manager about the plum cake!"
It was a poor revenge, but the only one he could think of at the moment.
"Is anything the matter?" asked Miss Van Tuyn when he rejoined her. "Hasold Fanny been tiresome?"
"Oh, no--no! But old Fan--I beg your pardon, I mean Miss Cronin--MissCronin has a peculiar--but she is very charming. I gave her yourmessage, and she quite understood. We were talking about plum cake. Thatis why I was so long."
"I see! A fascinating subject like that must be difficult to get awayfrom."
"Yes--very! What a delightful woman Mrs. Hodson is."
"I think her extremely wearisome. Her nature is as wrinkled as her face.And now I must be on my way to Adela Sellingworth's."
"May I walk with you as far as her door?"
"Of course."
When they were out in Piccadilly he said:
"And now what about my promise to Mr. Craven?"
"I shall be delighted to meet him again," said Miss Van Tuyn in acareless voice. "And I would not have you break a promise on my account.Such a sacred thing!"
"But if he bores you--"
"He doesn't bore me more than many young men do."
"Then I will let you know. We might have a theatre party."
"Anything you like. And why not ask Adela Sellingworth to make afourth?"
This suggestion was not at all to Braybrooke's liking, but he scarcelyknew what to say in answer to it. Really, it seemed as if this afternoonwas to end as it had begun--in a contretemps.
"I am so fond of her," continued Miss Van Tuyn. "And I'm sure she wouldenjoy it."
"But she so seldom goes out."
"All the more reason to try to persuade her out of her shell. I believeshe will come if you tell her I and Mr. Craven make up the rest of theparty. We all got on so well together in Soho."
"I will certainly ask her," said Braybrooke.
What else could he say?
At the corner of Berkeley Square Miss Van Tuyn stopped and ratherresolutely bade him good-bye.
When Braybrooke was alone he felt almost tired out. If he had been anItalian he would probably have believed that someone had looked on himthat day with the evil eye. He feared that he had been almost maladroit.His social self-confidence was severely shaken. And yet he had onlymeant well; he had only been trying to do what he considered his duty.It had all begun with Miss Cronin's preposterous mistake. That hadthoroughly upset him, and from that moment he had not been in possessionof his normal means. And now he was let in for a party combiningAdela Sellingworth with Miss Van Tuyn and Craven. It was singularlyunfortunate. But probably Lady Sellingworth would refuse the invitationhe now had to send her. She really went out very seldom. He could onlyhope for a refusal. That, too, was tragic. He could not remember everbefore having actively wished that an invitation of his should bedeclined.
He was so reduced in self-confidence and spirits that he turned into theSt. James's Club, sank down alone in a remote corner, and called fora dry Martini, although he knew quite well that it would set upfermentation.
PART FOUR