CHAPTER XXII
A year ago, almost to a day, Mrs. Tropenell had been sitting where shewas sitting now, awaiting Laura Pavely. Everything looked exactly as ithad looked then in the pretty, low drawing-room of Freshley Manor.Nothing had been added to, nothing withdrawn from, the room. The sameshaded reading-lamp stood on the little table close to her elbow; thevery chrysanthemums might have been the same.
And yet with the woman sitting there everything was different! Of allthe sensations--unease, anxiety, foreboding, jealousy--with which herheart had been filled this time last year, only one survived, and ofthat one she was secretly very much ashamed, for it was jealousy.
And now she was trying with all the force of her nature to banish theugly thing from her heart.
What must be--must be! If Oliver's heart and soul, as well as the wholeof his ardent, virile physical entity, desired Laura, then she, hismother, must help him, as much as lay within her power, to compass thatdesire.
Since Godfrey Pavely's death, it had been as if Mrs. Tropenell's lifehad slipped back two or three years. All these last few months she hadwritten to Oliver long diary letters, and Oliver on his side had writtento her vivid chronicles of his Mexican life. Perhaps she saw less,rather than more of Laura than she had done in the old days, for Laura,since her widowhood, had had more to do. She took her duties as thepresent owner of The Chase very seriously. Still, nothing waschanged--while yet in a sense everything had been changed--by thestrange, untoward death of Godfrey Pavely.
Oliver's letters were no longer what they had been, they were curiouslydifferent, and yet only she, his mother, perchance would have seen thedifference, had one of his letters of two years ago and one of hisletters of to-day been put side by side.
The love he had borne for the Spanish woman, of whom he had once spokenwith such deep feeling, had not affected his relations with his mother.But the love he now bore Laura Pavely had. Not long ago Laura had shownMrs. Tropenell one of Oliver's letters, and though there was really verylittle in it, she had been oddly nervous and queer in her manner, hardlygiving the older woman time to read it through before she had taken itback out of her hand.
Laura had become more human since her husband's death; it was as if aconstricting band had been loosened about her heart. Even so, Oliver'smother often wondered sorely whether Laura would ever welcome Oliver inany character save that of a devoted, discreet, and selfless friend. Shedoubted it. And yet, when he had written and suggested coming back now,instead of waiting till Christmas, she had not said a word to stop him.And the moment she had heard that he had reached England, and that hewas to be here late on this very afternoon, she had sent a note to TheChase and asked Laura to share their first meal.
One thing had made a great difference to Mrs. Tropenell's life duringthe last few months. That was the constant, familiar presence of LordSt. Amant. Now that he was Lord Lieutenant of the county, he was farmore at Knowlton Abbey than he had been for some years, andsomehow--neither could have told you why--they had become even closerfriends than they had been before.
It was well understood that any supplicant who had Mrs. Tropenell on hisside could count on Lord St. Amant's help and goodwill. Though she wasof course quite unaware of it, there were again rumours through thewhole of the country-side that soon the mistress of Freshley Manor wouldbecome Lady St. Amant, and that then the Abbey would be opened as thatgreat house had not been for close on forty years.
And now, to-night, Mrs. Tropenell suddenly remembered that Lord St.Amant was coming to dinner--she had forgotten it in the excitement ofOliver's return. But she told herself, with a kind of eagerness, thather old friend's presence might, after all, make things easier for themall! It is always easier to manage a party of four people than of three.Also, it made less marked the fact of Laura's presence on this, thefirst evening, of Oliver's return home.
Mrs. Tropenell had not been able to discover from her son's mannerwhether he was glad or sorry Laura was coming to-night. And sittingthere, waiting for her guests, she anxiously debated within herselfwhether Oliver would have preferred to see Laura for the first timealone. Of course he could have offered to go and fetch her; but he hadnot availed himself of that excuse, and his mother knew that she wouldbe present at their meeting.
The door opened, quietly, and as had been the case a year ago, Mrs.Tropenell saw her beautiful visitor before Laura knew that there was anyone in the darkened room.
Once more Mrs. Tropenell had a curious feeling as if time had slippedback, and that everything was happening over again. The only differencewas that Laura to-night was all in black, with no admixture of white.Still, by an odd coincidence the gown she was wearing was made exactlyas had been that other gown last year, and through the thin black foldsof chiffon her lovely white arms shone palely, revealingly....
And then, as her guest came into the circle of light, Mrs. Tropenellrealised with a feeling almost of shock that Laura was very muchchanged. She no longer had the sad, strained, rather severe look on herface which had been there last year. She looked younger, instead ofolder, and there was an expression of half-eager, half-shrinkingexpectation on her face--to-night.
"Aunt Letty? How good of you to ask me----" But her voice sank away intosilence as the sound of quick footsteps were heard hastening across thehall.
The door opened, and Oliver Tropenell came in.
He walked straight to Laura, and took both her hands in his. "You got mycable?" he asked.
And then Laura blushed, overwhelmingly. She had had said nothing of thatcable to Mrs. Tropenell.
And as they stood there--Oliver still grasping Laura's hands in his--themother, looking on, saw with a mixture of joy and of jealous pain thatLaura stood before him as if hypnotised, her heavy-lidded blue eyesfixed upwards on his dark, glowing face.
Suddenly they all three heard the at once plaintive and absurd hoot ofLord St. Amant's motor--and it was as if a deep spell had suddenly beenbroken. Slowly, reluctantly, Oliver released Laura's hands, and Mrs.Tropenell exclaimed in a voice which had a tremor in it: "It's Lord St.Amant, Oliver. I forgot that he had asked himself to dinner to-night. Hesaid he could not come till half-past eight, but I suppose he got awayearlier than he expected to do."
And then with the coming into the room of her old friend, life seemedsuddenly to become again normal, and though by no means passionless, yetlacking that curious atmosphere of violent, speechless emotion that hadbeen there a moment or two ago. Of the four it was Laura who seemed themost moved. She came up and slipped her hand into Mrs. Tropenell's,holding it tightly, probably unaware that she was doing so.
After the first few words of welcome to Oliver, Lord St. Amant plungedinto local talk with Mrs. Tropenell, and as he did so, he looked alittle wryly at Laura. Why didn't she move away and talk to Oliver? Whydid she stick close like that to Letty--to Letty, with whom he had hopedto spend a quiet, cosy, cheerful evening?
But Laura, for the first time in her life, felt as if she were no longerin full possession of herself. It was as if she had passed into thesecret keeping of another human being; she had the sensation that hermind was now in fee to another human mind, her will overawed by anotherhuman will. And there was a side to her nature which rebelled againstthis sudden, quick transference of herself.
With what she now half-realised to have been a kind of self-imposedhypocrisy, she had told herself often, during the last few months, thatOliver and she when they again met would become dear, dear friends. Hewould be the adorer, she the happy, calm, adored. And that then, after along probation, perhaps of years, in any case not for a long, long time,she might bring herself half reluctantly, and entirely for his sake, toconsider the question of--re-marriage.
But now? Since Oliver had taken her hands in his, and gazed downspeechlessly into her eyes, she had known that it was he, not she, wouldset the pace in their new relationship, and that however sincere hisself-imposed restraint and humility. So it was that Laura instinctivelyclung to Mrs. Tropenell's hand.
&nb
sp; The passion of love, which so often makes even quite a young man feelolder, steadier, more responsible, has quite the opposite effect on awoman. To every woman love brings back youth, and the deeper, the moreinstinctive the love, the greater the tremors and the uncertaintieswhich, according to a hypocritical convention, belong only to youth.
The years which Laura had spent with Godfrey Pavely seemed obliterated.Memories of her married life which had been very poignantly present inthe early days of her widowhood, filling her with mingled repugnance,pain, and yes, remorse, were now erased from the tablets of her mind.She felt as if it was the young, ignorant Laura--that Laura who had beenso full of high, almost defiant ideals--who was now standing, so full ofconfused longing and hope, if yet also a little fearful, on thethreshold of a new, wonderful life....
* * * * *
Good-breeding and the observance of certain long-established, socialusages have an inestimable value in all the great crises of humanexistence. To-night each of the other three felt the comfort of Lord St.Amant's presence among them. His agreeable ease of manner, his pleasant,kindly deference to the older and the younger lady, all helped to lessenthe tension, and make what each of his companions felt to be abreathless time of waiting, easier to live through.
He himself was surprised and shocked by the change he saw in OliverTropenell's face. Oliver looked worn, haggard, yet filled with a kind offierce gladness. He appeared to-night not so much the happy, as theexultant, conqueror of fate. He talked, and talked well, of thepolitical situation in Mexico, of certain happenings which had takenplace in England during his absence, and though now and again Mrs.Tropenell joined in the talk, on the whole she, like Laura, was contentto listen to the two men.
After dinner, while they were still alone in the drawing-room, Laurabegan to talk, rather eagerly, of her little Alice. She had begun towonder whether it would not be well for the child to go to school as aweekly boarder. There was such a school within reasonable motoringdistance. Alice was becoming rather too grown-up, and unchildlike. Shehad certain little friends in the town of Pewsbury, but they did notreally touch her life.
But even as Mrs. Tropenell and Laura talked the matter over, they bothfelt their talk to be unreal. Each of them knew that Laura's secondmarriage, if ever marry she did, would completely alter the wholesituation with regard to Alice. Oliver was not the man to hang up hishat in another man's house--besides, why should he do so? The Chasebelonged to Alice, even now.
And then rather suddenly, Laura asked a question: "How long is Olivergoing to stay in England, Aunt Letty?"
And Mrs. Tropenell quietly answered, "I should think he would stay tillafter Christmas. I gather everything is going on quite well out there,thanks to Gillie." She waited a moment, and then repeated, thoughtfully:"Yes--I feel sure Oliver means to stay till after the New Year----"
And then she stopped suddenly. There had come a change over Laura'sface. Laura had remembered what Mrs. Tropenell for the moment had notdone--that early in January Godfrey Pavely would have been dead exactlya year.
As ten o'clock struck, the other two came in, still talking eagerly toone another.
Lord St. Amant sat down by Laura.
"I'm going to have a little shooting party later on--not now, but earlyin December," he said. "Mrs. Tropenell is coming, and I hope Oliver too.I wonder if you would do me the great pleasure of being there, Laura?It's a long, long time since you honoured the Abbey with yourcompany----"
He was smiling down at her. "I would ask Alice to come too," he went on,"but I think she'd be bored! Perhaps you'll be bored too? I'm not havingany very brilliant or wonderful people, just a few of the neighbourswhom I feel I've rather neglected."
Laura laughed. "Of course I shall enjoy coming!" she exclaimed.
Oliver was standing by his mother. Suddenly he muttered, "Mother? AskLord St. Amant to come over and speak to you----"
But before she could obey him, Lord St. Amant got up and quickly cameover to where Mrs. Tropenell was sitting, leaving a vacant place byLaura.
With his back to the two younger people he sat down close to Mrs.Tropenell, and all at once he saw that her dark eyes were full of tears.He took her hand and patted it gently. "I feel dreadfully _de trop_," hemurmured. "Can't we go off, we two old folk, to your little room, mydearest? I'm sure you've something you want to show me there, or consultme about?"
And while Lord St. Amant was saying this to his old love, the two on theother side of the room were silent, as if stricken dumb by the nearnesseach felt to the other.
And at last it was Laura who broke the silence. "I think I must be goinghome," she said uncertainly.
She looked across at her hostess. "I don't want to make Lord St. Amantthink he ought to go too. Perhaps I can slip away quietly?"
"I'll walk back with you."
Oliver spoke with a kind of dry decision.
He got up. "Mother? I'm taking Laura home. I shan't be long. PerhapsLord St. Amant will stay till I come back. It's quite early."
He turned to Laura, now standing by his side: "Say good-bye to themnow. I'll fetch your shawl, and we'll go out through the window."
Laura obeyed, as in a dream. "Good-bye, Aunt Letty. Good-night, Lord St.Amant--I shall enjoy being at the Abbey."
She suffered herself to be kissed by the one--her hand pressed by theother. Then she turned as if in answer to an unseen signal.
Oliver was already back in the room, her Shetland shawl on his arm. Heput it round her shoulders, taking care not to touch her as he did so;then he opened the long French window, and stood aside for a momentwhile she stepped through into the moonlight, out of doors.
* * * * *
They were now in the beech avenue, in a darkness that seemed the moreprofound because of the streaks of silvery moonlight which lay justbehind them. But even so, the white shawl Laura was wearing showed dimlyagainst the depths of shade encompassing her.
All at once Oliver turned and said so suddenly that she, walking by hisside, started: "Laura? Do you remember this time last year?"
And as she answered the one word "Yes," he went on: "It was to-night,just a year ago, that I promised to become your friend. And as long asyou were another man's wife, I kept my promise, at any rate to theletter. If you tell me to go away for the next three months, I will doso--to-morrow. If I stay, I must stay, Laura, as your lover."
As she remained silent, he went on quickly: "Do not misunderstand me. Ionly ask for the right to love you--I do not ask for any return."
She was filled with an exquisite, tremulous joy. But that side of hernature which was restrained, and which had been so atrophied, wasignorant of the generosities of love, and shrank from quick surrender.So all she said, in a voice which sounded very cold to herself, was,"But that, Oliver, would surely not be fair--to you?"
"Quite fair!" he exclaimed eagerly--"quite fair. In no case would I everwish to obtain what was not freely vouchsafed."
He muttered, in a voice so low as to be scarcely audible, some furtherwords which moved her strangely, and vibrated to a chord which had neverbefore been touched, save to jar and to offend.
"To me aught else were sacrilege," were the words Oliver Tropenell said.
By now Laura's eyes had become accustomed to the darkness. She could seeher companion's tall, at once broad-shouldered and lean figure, standingat rights angles to herself, keeping its distance....
Taking a step forward, she put out her right hand a little blindly, andlaid it on the sleeve of his coat. Laura had always been an inarticulatewoman, but with that touch, that fleeting moment of contact betweenthem, something of what she was feeling took flight from her heart tohis----
"Laura?"
He grasped her hands as he had grasped them three hours ago when theyhad first met in his mother's presence. And then again he breathed hername. But this time the touch of doubting, incredulous joy had passedinto something ardent, exultant, possessive, and she was in hisarms--h
er self-absorption, her fastidiousness, her lifelong shrinkingfrom any strong emotion, swept away by a force which she had once onlyknown sufficiently to abhor and to condemn, but which she now felt to bedivine.
And then Oliver Tropenell said a strange thing indeed. "To have securedthis immortal moment, I would willingly die a shameful, ignoble deathto-morrow," were the words he whispered, as he strained Laura to hisheart, as his lips sought and found her lips....
At last they paced slowly on, and Laura found herself secretly exultingin the violence of Oliver's emotion, and in the broken, passionate termsof endearment with which he endowed her. That her response was that of agirl rather than that of a woman was to her lover an added ecstasy. Itbanished the hateful, earthy shade of Godfrey Pavely--that shade whichhad haunted Oliver Tropenell all that evening, even in his mother'shouse.
Just as they were about to step out from under the arch of the beechtrees on to the high road, he again took her in his arms. "Laura?" hewhispered. "May I tell my mother?" But as he felt her hesitating: "No!"he exclaimed. "Forget that I asked you that! We will say nothing yet.Secrecy is a delicious concomitant of love." She heard the added,whispered words, uttered as if to his own heart, "At least so I haveever found it." And they were words which a little troubled Laura.Surely she was the first woman he had ever loved?
"Aunt Letty has a right to know," she murmured. "But no one else,Oliver, must know, till January is past." And then she hung her head,perchance a little ashamed of this harking back to the conventions ofher everyday life.
He was surprised to hear her say further and with an effort, "I wouldrather Lord St. Amant didn't know. We shall be staying at Knowlton Abbeytogether in December."
"We shall," he said exultantly. "For that I thank God!"
Then suddenly he released her from out of his strong encompassing arms,and stooping down very low he kissed the hem of her long black gown....
After they had parted Oliver Tropenell waited on and on in the darkgarden till he heard Lord St. Amant's car drive away. Then he walkedquickly across the lawn and back into his mother's drawing-room.
"Mother?" he said briefly. "Laura and I are going to be married. But wedo not wish any one to know this till--till February."
Even now he could not wholly banish Godfrey Pavely's intrusive presencefrom his Laura-filled heart.