CHAPTER VI
At Rosedean, the small, mid-Victorian house which every one going to andfro between Freshley Manor and Lawford Chase was bound to pass by, Mrs.Winslow sat in her drawing-room waiting for Godfrey Pavely.
He was coming in to see her on his way home from Pewsbury, where, at theBank, he spent each day at least six of his waking hours.
All the summer, up to to-day, Mrs. Winslow had always had tea in thegarden, but there was now a freshness in the air, and she thought theywould find it more comfortable indoors than out. Still, she had openedwide the long French window, and the wind blew in, laden with pungentautumnal scents.
Katty--the old childish name still clung to her--was a very cleverwoman. She possessed the power of getting the utmost out of the peopleround her, whether they were friends, acquaintances, or servants. Herlittle garden was exquisitely kept, and there was no month of the yearwhen it did not look charming. Her little house, so far as was possibleon very limited means, was perfectly ordered.
Perhaps one secret of her success lay in the fact that she was able todo everything herself that she asked others to do for her. Katty was agood gardener, an excellent cook, and an exceptionally cleverdressmaker. Yet she was the last woman to make the mistake so manyclever people make--of keeping a dog and doing the barking oneself.Katty was willing to show those she employed exactly how she wanted athing done, but she expected them to learn how to do it quickly andintelligently. She had no use for the idle or the stupid.
Katty Winslow was thirty-one, but she looked much younger. She was anexceedingly pretty woman, with brown eyes, a delicately clear, white andpink complexion, and curling chestnut hair. She took great pains withher appearance, and with her health. Thus she ate and drank to rule, andalmost walked to rule.
Early this last summer a bit of cruel bad luck had befallen Mrs.Winslow. She had caught scarlet fever while on a visit, and for somedays had been very ill. But, perhaps as a result of the long, dullconvalescence, she now looked even prettier, and yes, younger, than shehad done before.
The only daughter of a well-connected but exceedingly poor half-payofficer, Katherine Fenton, during a girlhood which lasted till she wasfour-and-twenty, had been undisputed belle of Pewsbury, and of acountry-side stretching far beyond the confines of that fine old countytown. Like all beauties, she had had her triumphs and herdisappointments; and then, rather suddenly, she had made what had seemedthe irretrievable mistake of an unhappy marriage.
Bob Winslow had been weak, vain, ill-tempered, and, to a certain extent,vicious. Thus his relations had welcomed his marriage to a clever,capable young woman, who it was supposed would make, and keep, himstraight. The fact that she had no fortune had been regarded asunimportant--indeed, Bob Winslow had made on his bride what was regardedin the Pewsbury world as the splendid marriage settlement of twelvethousand pounds.
Four and a half per cent, on that sum was now Mrs. Winslow's onlyincome, and out of that income there were still being paid off heavydivorce costs, for Bob Winslow, when it had come to the point, had putup a great fight for his Katty. Not only had he defended the case, buthe had brought on his side vague counter-charges. The Judge, ratherunkindly, had observed that the petitioner had been "somewhatimprudent," but even so Katty had come out of the painful ordeal verywell--so much was universally allowed, even by the few people inPewsbury who had always disliked her, and who did not think she hadtreated her husband well.
Godfrey and Laura Pavely had both been very kind to Katty over thematter of the divorce--indeed, Mrs. Winslow had actually stayed atLawford Chase for many weeks during that troubled time, and Laura'scountenance had been of great value to her. This was now three yearsago, and, though they had nothing in common, the two women remained goodfriends, as well as what is sometimes less usual, good neighbours.
In nothing had Katty shown herself cleverer than in her management ofLaura. In Laura Pavely's imagination Katty Winslow had her fixed placeas a friend of Godfrey's childhood, and that though he was nine yearsolder. Mrs. Pavely regarded Mrs. Winslow much as she would have done apleasant-natured sister-in-law, and she had been glad to do all that shecould for her. When some one had suggested that Katty should becomeGodfrey Pavely's tenant at Rosedean, Laura had thought it an excellentidea.
It was the fashion to call Rosedean ugly. The house had been built inthe 'sixties, by a retired butcher and grazier, and was of red brickwith white facings. But it was well built, and had far more realdistinction of appearance than the Queen Anne villas which nowsurrounded Pewsbury. Also, Rosedean had been built on the site of an oldfarmhouse, and Katty's lawn was fringed with some fine old trees, whilea grand old holly hedge concealed a well-stocked kitchen garden. On theother side of the house were stabling for two horses, a coach-house, anda paddock.
Katty had devoted a great deal of successful thought to the arrangementof her dwelling. She knew she could neither compete with the statelybeauty of Laura's Tudor mansion, nor with the old-fashionedeighteenth-century charm of Mrs. Tropenell's house, so she wisely madeup her mind that her surroundings should be simply bright, pretty andcosy. Her drawing-room was in its way a delightful room, and thosewalking through into it, from the rather dark, early Victorian hall,gained an instant impression of coolness in summer, of warmth in winter,of cheerfulness and comfort at all times.
No one but Katty herself knew the trouble to which she had been to getthe exact pattern of calendered chintz which she had made up her mind toobtain. Katty also kept to herself the amount which she had spent, outof her small reserve, on the thoroughly good, comfortable easy-chairs,of varying shape, height, and depth, which played such an important, ifunobtrusive, part in the comfort of her visitors.
Every chair in Katty's sitting-room was an easy chair, with theexception of two gilt ones which were of their kind good, and which shehad bought at a sale. They, however, were never moved away from theplaces where they stood, flanking a quaint, old-fashioned cabinet nowfilled with some beautiful old china which had come to Katty from agrandmother.
Yet another peculiarity of Katty's sitting-room was the absence ofpictures. Their place was taken by mirrors. Above the mantelpiece onwhich stood six delicately charming Dresden china figures was alooking-glass of curious octagonal shape, framed in rosewood. Oppositethe French window which opened into the garden was fixed a long, narrowmirror with a finely carved gilt wood frame. This mirror gave an air ofdistinction to the room which would otherwise have been lacking, and italso enabled Katty to see at any moment how she was looking, whether herburnished chestnut-brown hair was quite tidy, and her gown fresh-lookingand neat.
There had been a time in her life when Katty Winslow had beenpassionately fond of beautiful clothes, and able to indulge her taste.Now, all she could hope to attain was freshness and neatness. That sheachieved these was to her credit, for they too cost, if not money, thena good deal of thought and time, on the part of their possessor.
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Godfrey Pavely had walked out from Pewsbury. From the Bank in the HighStreet to Rosedean was rather over two miles, and he had gone along at asteady, jog-trot pace till he had come in sight of the little house.Then he quickened his footsteps, and a feeling of pleasurableanticipation came over him.
The banker was very, very fond of his old friend and sometimesweetheart. He believed it to be a straightforward, honest affection,though he could not but be aware, deep in his heart, that "to it" wasjust that little touch of sentiment which adds salt and savour to mostof the close friendships formed between a man and a woman.
As a matter of fact, Godfrey Pavely was now happier in Katty Winslow'scompany than he was in that of any one else. Not only did she ply himwith a good deal of delicate flattery, which caused him always to feelbetter pleased with himself when at Rosedean than when he was at TheChase, but a great and real bond between them was their mutual interestin all the local happenings and local gossip of the neighbourhood.
Laura was frankly indifferent to all that
concerned the town of Pewsburyand the affairs of those whom Mrs. Tropenell called the Pewsburyites.She was not disagreeable about it; she simply didn't care. Katty, inspite of her frequent absences, for she was a popular visitor with alarge circle of acquaintances, always came home full of an eager wish tolearn all that had happened while she had been away.
Little by little, imperceptibly as regarded himself, the banker hadfallen into the way of telling this woman, who had so oddly slipped backinto his life, everything which concerned and interested himself, everydetail of his business, and even, which he had no right to do, thesecrets of his clients.
But to this entire confidence there was one outstanding exception.Godfrey Pavely never discussed with Katty Winslow his relations with hiswife. Laura's attitude to himself caused him, even now, sharp, almostintolerable, humiliation. Only to Mrs. Tropenell did he ever say a wordof his resentment and soreness--and that only because she had been theunwilling confidant of both husband and wife during that early time intheir married life when the struggle between Godfrey and Laura had been,if almost wordless, at its sharpest and bitterest.
On one occasion, and on one only, when with Katty Winslow, had Pavelybroken his guarded silence. He had been talking, in a way which at oncefascinated and tantalised Katty, of his growing wealth, and suddenly hehad said something as to his having no son to inherit his fortune. "It'sodd to think that some day there will come along a man, a stranger tome, who will benefit by everything I now do----" and as she had lookedup at him, at a loss for his meaning, he had gone on, slowly, "I meanthe man whom Mrs. Tropenell and Laura between them will select for mygirl's husband."
Katty, looking at him very straight out of her bright brown eyes, hadexclaimed, "You may have a son yet, Godfrey!"
She had been startled by the look of pain, of rage, and of humiliationthat had come into his sulky, obstinate-looking face, as he answeredshortly, "I think that's very unlikely."
Had Godfrey Pavely been a more imaginative man, he would probably by nowhave come to regret, with a deep, voiceless regret, that he had notmarried Katty instead of Laura--but being the manner of man he was, hehad, so far, done nothing of the sort. And yet? And yet, at one time,say fifteen years ago, he had very nearly married Katty. It was a factwhich even now he would have denied, but which she never forgot.
In those days Godfrey Pavely had been a priggish, self-important youngman of twenty-six, with perhaps not so good an opinion of women as hehad now, for a man's opinion of women always alters, one way or another,as he grows older.
Katty, at eighteen, had enjoyed playing on the cautious, judgematicalGodfrey's emotions. So well had she succeeded that at one time he couldhardly let a day go by without trying to see and to be with her alone.But, though strongly attracted by her instinctive, girlish wiles, he wasalso, quite unknowingly to her, repelled by those same wiles.
Poor Katty had made herself, in those days that now seemed to both ofthem so very, very long ago, a little too cheap. Her admirer, to use agood old word, knew that her appeal was to a side of his nature which itbehooved him to keep in check, if he was not "to make a fool ofhimself." And so, just when their little world--kindly, malicious,censorious, as the case might be--was expecting to hear of theirengagement, Godfrey Pavely suddenly left Pewsbury to spend a year in agreat Paris discount house.
The now staid country banker did not look back with any pride orpleasure to that year in France; he had worked, but he had also ignoblyplayed, spending, rather joylessly, a great deal of money in theprocess. Then, having secretly sown his wild oats, he had come home andsettled down to a further time of banking apprenticeship in London,before taking over the sound family business.
Almost at once, on his return to England, he had made up his mind tomarry the beautiful, reserved, the then pathetically young LauraBaynton, who was so constantly with Mrs. Tropenell at Freshley Manor.
Time went on, and Laura held out; but little by little, perhaps becausehe saw her so seldom, he broke down her resistance. His father hadbought the Lawford Chase estate as a great bargain, many years before,and had been content to let it on a long lease. Godfrey, on becoming hisown master at thirty, determined to live there, and his marriage toLaura followed a year later.
During their honeymoon in Paris--a honeymoon which was curiously andpainfully unlike what Godfrey had supposed his honeymoon would and mustbe--he saw in a paper a notice of Katty Fenton's engagement. Though notgiven to impulsively generous actions, he went out and bought for Katty,in the Rue de la Paix, a jewelled pendant Laura had just refused toallow him to buy for her. In return he had received what had seemed atthe time a delightful letter of thanks, to which was the followingpostscript, "There's no harm in my saying _now_, that you, dear Godfrey,were my first love! I've always wanted you to know that. I've alwaysbeen afraid that you only thought me a sad little flirt."
The confession, and the shrewd thrust, which was so much truer than hethought Katty knew, moved him, and he had told himself sorely thatKatty's husband at any rate would be a very lucky fellow.
Then once more he had forgotten Katty till one day, years later, "Mrs.Winslow" had suddenly been shown into his private room at the Bank.
Looking, as he had at once become aware, even prettier and moreattractive than when he had last seen her, she had said quietly, "I'm ingreat trouble, Godfrey, and I've come down from London to consult youabout it. Your father and mine were friends" (a rather exaggeratedstatement that--but Pavely was in no mood to cavil), "and I don't knowwho else to go to."
Shortly and simply she had described the dreadful existence she had ledsince her marriage--then, suddenly, she had rolled up her right sleeveand shown the livid bruises made by Bob Winslow the night before, in afit of drunken anger, on the slender, soft, white arm.
Unwontedly moved, the more so that this now unfamiliar Katty seemed tomake no excessive demand either on his pity or on his emotions, GodfreyPavely had thrown himself into the complicated, unsavoury business, andvery soon his old-new friend had brought him to advise her in the senseshe wished. But it was Laura who had suggested that poor Mrs. Winslowshould come and stay with them during the divorce proceedings, and whileshe had been at Lawford Chase, Katty had avoided, rather than soughtout, the master of the house.
In the matter of Rosedean the banker had behaved in what he himselfconsidered a very handsome manner. Not only had he let the house toKatty for about a third of what he could have got for it in the openmarket, but he had allowed her a hundred pounds for "doing it up." Hebelieved himself to have also suggested the arrangement by which sheobtained the free services, for a certain number of half-days each week,of a very intelligent Scotch under-gardener who was in his employ.
He had never had reason to regret his kindness. On the contrary, he andKatty had become, as time went on, closer and closer friends, and moreand more had he come to miss her during her frequent absences from home.
Some months ago he had even ventured to tell her that he thought shegadded about a bit too much! Why couldn't she be content to stay quietlyat Rosedean? "Look at me and Laura," he had exclaimed. "We hardly evergo away for a holiday, and we very seldom pay a visit!" Katty had shakenher pretty head playfully: "Ah, but you don't know how lonely I amsometimes! Laura is most dear and kind to me, but you know, Godfrey, Idon't see her often----"
He had not liked to remind her that he very often did.
Then something happened which quite curiously quickened Godfrey Pavely'sunavowed feeling for Katty. Oliver Tropenell, a virtual stranger to themall, came home from Mexico to spend the summer in England with hismother. And three times, during Oliver's first fortnight in England,Godfrey arrived at Rosedean to find the then stranger there. On thesethree occasions each man had tried to sit the other out, and finallythey had left the house together. As a result of these meetings Godfreysoon caught himself wondering with a mixture of feelings he did not careto analyse, whether Tropenell could possibly be thinking of marryingKatty?
He found the notion intolerable.
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Then came a strange turn to the situation. Katty had gone away, on oneof those tiresome little visits she was so fond of paying, andProvidence, which means women, especially any woman placed in anambiguous position, to stay quietly at home, had caught her out! She hadfallen ill, when on a visit, of scarlet fever, and she had beencompelled to stay away six weeks. During those weeks he, Godfrey Pavely,and Oliver Tropenell had become friends--on more intimate terms offriendship than Pavely had ever expected to find himself with any man.This was, of course, partly owing to the fortunate fact that Laura likedOliver too, and didn't seem to mind how often he came and went to TheChase.
But Godfrey Pavely had a tenacious memory. He did not forget that for alittle while, at any rate, Oliver had seemed to enjoy being in Katty'scompany. And when Laura, more than once since Mrs. Winslow's return toRosedean, had suggested asking Katty in to dinner to meet Oliver, herhusband coldly vetoed the proposal.