CHAPTER XII
WOLFENDEN'S LUCK
To leave London at all, under ordinary circumstances, was usually ahardship for Wolfenden, but to leave London at this particular moment ofhis life was little less than a calamity, yet a letter which he receiveda few mornings after the supper at the "Milan" left him scarcely anyalternative. He read it over for the third time whilst his breakfastgrew cold, and each time his duty seemed to become plainer.
"DERINGHAM HALL, NORFOLK.
"MY DEAR WOLFENDEN,--We have been rather looking for you to come down for a day or two, and I do hope that you will be able to manage it directly you receive this. I am sorry to say that your father is very far from well, and we have all been much upset lately. He still works for eight or nine hours a day, and his hallucinations as to the value of his papers increases with every page he writes. His latest peculiarity is a rooted conviction that there is some plot on hand to rob him of his manuscripts. You remember, perhaps, Miss Merton, the young person whom we engaged as typewriter. He sent her away the other day, without a moment's notice, simply because he saw her with a sheet of copying paper in her hand. I did not like the girl, but it is perfectly ridiculous to suspect her of anything of the sort. He insisted, however, that she should leave the house within an hour, and we were obliged to give in to him. Since then he has seemed to become even more fidgety. He has had cast-iron shutters fitted to the study windows, and two of the keepers are supposed to be on duty outside night and day, with loaded revolvers. People around here are all beginning to talk, and I am afraid that it is only natural that they should. He will see no one, and the library door is shut and bolted immediately he has entered it. Altogether it is a deplorable state of things, and what will be the end of it I cannot imagine. Sometimes it occurs to me that you might have more influence over him than I have. I hope that you will be able to come down, if only for a day or two, and see what effect your presence has. The shooting is not good this year, but Captain Willis was telling me yesterday that the golf links were in excellent condition, and there is the yacht, of course, if you care to use it. Your father seems to have quite forgotten that she is still in the neighbourhood, I am glad to say. Those inspection cruises were very bad things for him. He used to get so excited, and he was dreadfully angry if the photographs which I took were at all imperfectly developed. How is everybody? Have you seen Lady Susan lately? and is it true that Eleanor is engaged? I feel literally buried here, but I dare not suggest a move. London, for him at present, would be madness. I shall hope to get a wire from you to-morrow, and will send to Cromer to meet any train.--From your affectionate mother,
"CONSTANCE MANVER DERINGHAM."
There was not a word of reproach in the letter, but neverthelessWolfenden felt a little conscience-stricken. He ought to have gone downto Deringham before; most certainly after the receipt of this summons hecould not delay his visit any longer. He walked up and down the roomimpatiently. To leave London just now was detestable. It was true thathe could not call upon them, and he had no idea where else to look forthese people, who, for some mysterious reason, seemed to be doing allthat they could to avoid his acquaintance. Yet chance had favoured himonce--chance might stand his friend again. At any rate to feel himselfin the same city with her was some consolation. For the last three dayshe had haunted Piccadilly and Bond Street. He had become a saunterer,and the shop windows had obtained from him an attention which he hadnever previously bestowed upon them. The thought that, at any turning,at any moment, they might meet, continually thrilled him. The idea of ajourney which would place such a meeting utterly out of the question,was more than distasteful--it was hateful.
And yet he would have to go. He admitted that to himself as he ate hissolitary breakfast, with the letter spread out before him. Since it wasinevitable, he decided to lose no time. Better go at once and have itover. The sooner he got there the sooner he would be able to return. Herang the bell, and gave the necessary orders. At a quarter to twelve hewas at King's Cross.
He took his ticket in a gloomy frame of mind, and bought the _Field_ anda sporting novel at the bookstall. Then he turned towards the train, andwalking idly down the platform, looking for Selby and his belongings, heexperienced what was very nearly the greatest surprise of his life. Sofar, coincidence was certainly doing her best to befriend him. A girlwas seated alone in the further corner of a first-class carriage.Something familiar in the poise of her head, or the gleam of her hairgathered up underneath an unusually smart travelling hat, attracted hisattention. He came to a sudden standstill, breathless, incredulous. Shewas looking out of the opposite window, her head resting upon herfingers, but a sudden glimpse of her profile assured him that this wasno delusion. It was Mr. Sabin's niece who sat there, a passenger by hisown train, probably, as he reflected with a sudden illuminative flash ofthought, to be removed from the risk of any more meetings with him.
Wolfenden, with a discretion at which he afterwards wondered, did not atonce attract her attention. He hurried off to the smoking carriagebefore which his servant was standing, and had his own belongingspromptly removed on to the platform. Then he paid a visit to therefreshment-room, and provided himself with an extensive luncheonbasket, and finally, at the bookstall, he bought up every lady's paperand magazine he could lay his hands upon. There was only a minute nowbefore the train was due to leave, and he walked along the platform asthough looking for a seat, followed by his perplexed servant. When hearrived opposite to her carriage, he paused, only to find himselfconfronted by a severe-looking maid dressed in black, and the guard. Forthe first time he noticed the little strip, "engaged," pasted across thewindow.
"Plenty of room lower down, sir," the guard remarked. "This is anengaged carriage."
The maid whispered something to the guard, who nodded and locked thedoor. At the sound of the key, however, the girl looked round and sawWolfenden. She lifted her eyebrows and smiled faintly. Then she came tothe window and let it down.
"Whatever are you doing here?" she asked. "You----"
He interrupted her gently. The train was on the point of departure.
"I am going down into Norfolk," he said. "I had not the least idea ofseeing you. I do not think that I was ever so surprised."
Then he hesitated for a moment.
"May I come in with you?" he asked.
She laughed at him. He had been so afraid of her possible refusal, thathis question had been positively tremulous.
"I suppose so," she said slowly. "Is the train quite full, then?"
He looked at her quite keenly. She was laughing at him with her eyes--anodd little trick of hers. He was himself again at once, and answeredmendaciously, but with emphasis--
"Not a seat anywhere. I shall be left behind if you don't take me in."
A word in the guard's ear was quite sufficient, but the maid looked atWolfenden suspiciously. She leaned into the carriage.
"Would mademoiselle prefer that I, too, travelled with her?" sheinquired in French.
The girl answered her in the same language.
"Certainly not, Celeste. You had better go and take your seat at once.We are just going!"
The maid reluctantly withdrew, with disapproval very plainly stampedupon her dark face. Wolfenden and his belongings were bundled in, andthe whistle blew. The train moved slowly out of the station. They wereoff!
"I believe," she said, looking with a smile at the pile of magazines andpapers littered all over the seat, "that you are an impostor. Or perhapsyou have a peculiar taste in literature!"
She pointed towards the _Queen_ and the _Gentlewoman_. He was in highspirits, and he made open confession.
"I saw you ten minutes ago," he declared, "and since then I have beenendeavouring to make myself an acceptable travelling companion. Butdon't begin to study the fashions yet, plea
se. Tell me how it is thatafter looking all over London for three days for you, I find you here."
"It is the unexpected," she remarked, "which always happens. But afterall there is nothing mysterious about it. I am going down to a littlehouse which my uncle has taken, somewhere near Cromer. You will think itodd, I suppose, considering his deformity, but he is devoted to golf,and some one has been telling him that Norfolk is the proper county togo to."
"And you?" he asked.
She shook her head disconsolately.
"I am afraid I am not English enough to care much for games," sheadmitted. "I like riding and archery, and I used to shoot a little, butto go into the country at this time of the year to play any game seemsto me positively barbarous. London is quite dull enough--but thecountry--and the English country, too!--well, I have been engrossed inself-pity ever since my uncle announced his plans."
"I do not imagine," he said smiling, "that you care very much forEngland."
"I do not imagine," she admitted promptly, "that I do. I am aFrenchwoman, you see, and to me there is no city on earth like Paris,and no country like my own."
"The women of your nation," he remarked, "are always patriotic. I havenever met a Frenchwoman who cared for England."
"We have reason to be patriotic," she said, "or rather, we had," sheadded, with a curious note of sadness in her tone. "But, come, I do notdesire to talk about my country. I admitted you here to be anentertaining companion, and you have made me speak already of thesubject which is to me the most mournful in the world. I do not wish totalk any more about France. Will you please think of another subject?"
"Mr. Sabin is not with you," he remarked.
"He intended to come. Something important kept him at the last moment.He will follow me, perhaps, by a later train to-day, if not to-morrow."
"It is certainly a coincidence," he said, "that you should be going toCromer. My home is quite near there."
"And you are going there now?" she asked.
"I am delighted to say that I am."
"You did not mention it the other evening," she remarked. "You talked asthough you had no intention at all of leaving London."
"Neither had I at that time," he said. "I had a letter from home thismorning which decided me."
She smiled softly.
"Well, it is strange," she said. "On the whole, it is perhaps fortunatethat you did not contemplate this journey when we had supper togetherthe other night."
He caught at her meaning, and laughed.
"It is more than fortunate," he declared. "If I had known of it, andtold Mr. Sabin, you would not have been travelling by this train alone."
"I certainly should not," she admitted demurely.
He saw his opportunity, and swiftly availed himself of it.
"Why does your uncle object to me so much?" he asked.
"Object to you!" she repeated. "On the contrary, I think that he ratherapproves of you. You saved his life, or something very much like it. Heshould be very grateful! I think that he is!"
"Yet," he persisted, "he does not seem to desire my acquaintance--foryou, at any rate. You have just admitted, that if he had known thatthere was any chance of our being fellow passengers you would not havebeen here."
She did not answer him immediately. She was looking fixedly out of thewindow. Her face seemed to him more than ordinarily grave. When sheturned her head, her eyes were thoughtful--a little sad.
"You are quite right," she said. "My uncle does not think it well for meto make any acquaintances in this country. We are not here for verylong. No doubt he is right. He has at least reason on his side. Only itis a little dull for me, and it is not what I have been used to. Yetthere are sacrifices always. I cannot tell you any more. You must pleasenot ask me. You are here, and I am pleased that you are here! There!will not that content you?"
"It gives me," he answered earnestly, "more than contentment! It ishappiness!"
"That is precisely the sort of thing," she said slowly to him, withlaughter in her eyes, "which you are not to say! Please understandthat!"
He accepted the rebuke lightly. He was far too happy in being with herto be troubled by vague limitations. The present was good enough forhim, and he did his best to entertain her. He noticed with pleasure thatshe did not even glance at the pile of papers at her side. They talkedwithout intermission. She was interested, even gay. Yet he could not butnotice that every now and then, especially at any reference to thefuture, her tone grew graver and a shadow passed across her face. Oncehe said something which suggested the possibility of her living alwaysin England. She had shaken her head at once, gently but firmly.
"No, I could never live in this country," she said, "even if my likingfor it grew. It would be impossible!"
He was puzzled for a moment.
"You think that you could never care for it enough," he suggested; "yetyou have scarcely had time to judge it fairly. London in the spring isgay enough, and the life at some of our country houses is very differentto what it was a few years ago. Society is so much more tolerant andbroader."
"It is scarcely a question," she said, "of my likes or dislikes. Next toParis, I prefer London in the spring to any city in Europe, and a week Ispent at Radnett was very delightful. But, nevertheless, I could neverlive here. It is not my destiny!"
The old curiosity was strong upon him. Radnett was the home of theDuchess of Radnett and Ilchester, who had the reputation of being themost exclusive hostess in Europe! He was bewildered.
"I would give a great deal," he said earnestly, "to know what youbelieve that destiny to be."
"We are bordering upon the forbidden subject," she reminded him, with alook which was almost reproachful. "You must please believe me when Itell you, that for me things have already been arranged otherwise. Come,I want you to tell me all about this country into which we are going.You must remember that to me it is all new!"
He suffered her to lead the conversation into other channels, with avague feeling of disquiet. The mystery which hung around the girl andher uncle seemed only to grow denser as his desire to penetrate it grew.At present, at any rate, he was baffled. He dared ask no more questions.
The train glided into Peterborough station before either of them werewell aware that they had entered in earnest upon the journey. Wolfendenlooked out of the window with amazement.
"Why, we are nearly half way there!" he exclaimed. "How wretched!"
She smiled, and took up a magazine. Wolfenden's servant camerespectfully to the window.
"Can I get you anything, my lord?" he inquired.
Wolfenden shook his head, and opening the door, stepped out on to theplatform.
"Nothing, thanks, Selby," he said. "You had better get yourself somelunch. We don't get to Deringham until four o'clock."
The man raised his hat and turned away. In a moment, however, he wasback again.
"You will pardon my mentioning it, my lord," he said, "but the younglady's maid has been travelling in my carriage, and a nice fidget she'sbeen in all the way. She's been muttering to herself in French, and sheseems terribly frightened about something or other. The moment the trainstopped here, she rushed off to the telegraph office."
"She seems a little excitable," Wolfenden remarked. "All right, Selby,you'd better hurry up and get what you want to eat."
"Certainly, my lord; and perhaps your lordship knows that there is aflower-stall in the corner there."
Wolfenden nodded and hurried off. He returned to the carriage just asthe train was moving off, with a handful of fresh, wet violets, whoseperfume seemed instantly to fill the compartment. The girl held out herhands with a little exclamation of pleasure.
"What a delightful travelling companion you are," she declared. "I thinkthese English violets are the sweetest flowers in the world."
She held them up to her lips. Wolfenden was looking at a paper bag inher lap.
"May I inquire what that is?" he asked.
"Buns!" she answered. "You must not think that beca
use I am a girl I amnever hungry. It is two o'clock, and I am positively famished. I sent mymaid for them."
He smiled, and sweeping away the bundles of rugs and coats, produced theluncheon basket which he had secured at King's Cross, and opening it,spread out the contents.
"For two!" she exclaimed, "and what a delightful looking salad! Where onearth did that come from?"
"Oh, I am no magician," he exclaimed. "I ordered the basket at King'sCross, after I had seen you. Let me spread the cloth here. Mydressing-case will make a capital table!"
They picnicked together gaily. It seemed to Wolfenden that chicken andtongue had never tasted so well before, or claret, at three shillingsthe bottle, so full and delicious. They cleared everything up, and thensat and talked over the cigarette which she had insisted upon. Butalthough he tried more than once, he could not lead the conversationinto any serious channel--she would not talk of her past, she distinctlyavoided the future. Once, when he had made a deliberate effort to gainsome knowledge as to her earlier surroundings, she reproved him with asilence so marked that he hastened to talk of something else.
"Your maid," he said, "is greatly distressed about something. She sent atelegram off at Peterborough. I hope that your uncle will not makehimself unpleasant because of my travelling with you."
She smiled at him quite undisturbed.
"Poor Celeste," she said. "Your presence here has upset her terribly.Mr. Sabin has some rather strange notions about me, and I am quite surethat he would rather have sent me down in a special train than have hadthis happen. You need not look so serious about it."
"It is only on your account," he assured her.
"Then you need not look serious at all," she continued. "I am not undermy uncle's jurisdiction. In fact, I am quite an independent person."
"I am delighted to hear it," he said heartily. "I should imagine thatMr. Sabin would not be at all a pleasant person to be on bad termswith."
She smiled thoughtfully.
"There are a good many people," she said, "who would agree with you.There are a great many people in the world who have cause to regrethaving offended him. Let us talk of something else. I believe that Ican see the sea!"
They were indeed at Cromer. He found a carriage for her, and collectedher belongings. He was almost amused at her absolute indolence in themidst of the bustle of arrival. She was evidently unused to doing theslightest thing for herself. He took the address which she gave to him,and repeated it to the driver. Then he asked the question which had beentrembling many times upon his lips.
"May I come and see you?"
She had evidently been considering the matter, for she answered him atonce and deliberately.
"I should like you to," she said; "but if for any reason it did not suitmy uncle to have you come, it would not be pleasant for either of us. Heis going to play golf on the Deringham links. You will be certain to seehim there, and you must be guided by his manner towards you."
"And if he is still--as he was in London--must this be goodbye, then?"he asked earnestly.
She looked at him with a faint colour in her cheeks and a softer lightin her proud, clear eyes.
"Well," she said, "goodbye would be the last word which could be spokenbetween us. But, _n'importe_, we shall see."
She flashed a suddenly brilliant smile upon him, and leaned back amongstthe cushions. The carriage drove off, and Wolfenden, humming pleasantlyto himself, stepped into the dogcart which was waiting for him.