CHAPTER V
Through the flowers on the hotel dining-table Mrs. Pendleton was able towatch her niece unnoticed, because the flowers occupied such anunreasonably large space on the little round table set for three. Besides,Sisily had been engrossed in her own thoughts throughout the meal. Mrs.Pendleton was disturbed by her quietness. There was something unnaturalabout it--something not girlish. She had not spoken once during the drivefrom Flint House to Penzance, and she sat through dinner with a stillwhite face, silent, and hardly eating anything.
Mrs. Pendleton supposed Sisily was fretting over her mother, but she didnot understand a girl whose grief took the form of silence and stillness.She would have preferred a niece who would have sobbed out her grief onher shoulder, been reasonably comforted, and eaten a good dinnerafterwards. But Sisily was not that kind of girl. She was strange andunapproachable. There was something almost repellent in her reserve,something in her dark preoccupied gaze which made Mrs. Pendleton feelquite nervous, and unfeignedly relieved when Sisily had asked to beallowed to go to her room immediately the meal was concluded.
As she sat at the table, reviewing the events of the afternoon, after thegirl had taken her departure, Mrs. Pendleton regretted that she hadconsented to take charge of Sisily. She flattered herself that she wassufficiently modern not to care a row of pins for the stigma on the girl'sbirth, but there were awkward circumstances, and not the least of them washer own rash promise to break the news to Sisily that she wasillegitimate. That disclosure was not likely to help their futurerelations together. Mrs. Pendleton reflected that she knew very littleabout her niece, whom she had not seen since she was a small girl, but therecollection of her set face and tragic eyes at the dinner table impelledprompt recognition of the fact that she was going to be difficult tomanage.
But there was more than that. With a feeling of dismay Mrs. Pendleton'smind awoke to a belated realization of the scandal which would fasten onSisily and her birth if Robert succeeded in establishing his claim to thetitle. A peer of the realm with an illegitimate, disinherited daughter!The story would be pounced upon by a sensational press, avid for preciselysuch topics. In imagination Mrs. Pendleton saw the flaming headlines, thephotographs, and the highly spiced reports in which every detail of herbrother's private life was laid bare for a million curious eyes.
Such an exposure was too terrible to be faced. Mrs. Pendleton saw her owncomfortable life affected by it; saw her position in her small socialcircle shaken and overwhelmed by the clamour of notoriety. She saw herselfthe focus of the malicious tea-table gossip of all her friends. Decidedly,it would not do.
She did her brother the justice to realize that he had overlooked thepublic effect of the disclosure of his painful domestic secret ascompletely as she had. He had forgotten that his accession to the peeragewould make him, as it were, a public figure, and the glamour which thenewspapers would throw over his lifelong quest would invest every act ofhis life with a publicity from which he could not hope to escape. If hehad foreseen this, he would have made some other arrangement for hisdaughter's future, not for the girl's sake, but for the honour of thefamous old name of which he was so fanatically proud.
The question remained, what was to be done? Robert would have to be told,of course. Mrs. Pendleton's first impulse was to retract her promise totake charge of Sisily, and wash her hands of the whole affair. Then shethought of the money, and wavered. Robert had made her a generous offer,and the money would have helped so much! She had already planned thespending of the cheque he had given her that afternoon. She had thought ofa new suite of drawing-room furniture, and bedroom carpets. She had avision of a small motor-car, later on.
As she pondered over the situation she thought she saw a way out--a way sosimple and practical that she was astonished that it had not occurred toher before.
Mrs. Pendleton was a woman of decision and prompt of action when she madeup her mind. Her mind was made up now. She glanced across the table at herhusband. "Joseph!" she said.
Mr. Pendleton, hidden behind the sheets of a newspaper just arrived fromLondon, had the temerity not to hear. He was in a grumpy mood, arising, inthe first instance, from having been dragged away from his business andhis club to Cornwall. It was nothing to him that he was in the Land ofLyonesse. His brief impression of the Duchy was that it was all rocks, andthat Penzance was a dull town without a proper seafront, swarming withrascally shopkeepers who tried to sell serpentine match-boxes at the priceof gold ones, and provided with hotels where dull tourists submitted to adaily diet of Cornish pasties and pollock under the delusion that theywere taking in local colour in the process. Mr. Pendleton's stomachresented his own rash deglutition of these dainties, and in consequence hewas suffering too much with acute indigestion to think of the compensationhe would gain at next year's Academy by standing with a bragging knowingair before pictures of the Cornish coast, expatiating to his boredacquaintances (who had never been to Cornwall) on their lack of meritcompared with the real thing. Like most husbands, Mr. Pendleton had beenable to reach the conclusion that the real cause of his bodily and mentaldiscomfort was his wife, so he maintained a sulky silence behind the pagesof his newspaper.
With that lack of ceremony which the familiarity of marriage engenders inthe female breast, his wife leant across the table and plucked the paperfrom his hand.
"Listen to me, Joseph," she said, "I want to talk to you."
Lacking the newspaper screen, Mr. Pendleton's rebellious tendenciesinstantly evaporated beneath his wife's searching eye.
"Yes, my dear," he replied meekly. "What about?"
"About Sisily. Did you notice that she did not speak a word duringdinner?"
"Perhaps she was overcome with grief, my dear."
"Nonsense! Grief does not make a woman speechless. She's one of the dumbsort of girls. I always mistrust a girl who hasn't plenty to say forherself."
"Well, you know, my dear, she has had a strange sort of life. She hasn'thad the educational advantages of other young women"--Mr. Pendleton wasgoing to add "in her station of life," but a timely recollection of theafternoon's disclosures caused him to substitute: "with wealthy fathers."
"Robert has neglected his duty to her shamefully. I've been thinking itall over, and I'm half sorry now that I consented to take charge of her."
"Then why do it?" said her husband placidly.
"It's the scandal I fear," rejoined his wife, pursuing her own thought."There's bound to be a lot of talk and newspaper publicity when Robertcomes into the title. It would be much better to keep this quiet, afterall these years. There is really no occasion for it, if Robert will onlylisten to reason. Robert wishes to avoid future trouble and complicationsabout the succession. That could be arranged by getting Sisily to signsome agreement renouncing all claim on the title."
"I doubt if such a document would be legal, my dear," said her husbanddubiously.
"That wouldn't matter in the least," replied Mrs. Pendleton, with awoman's contempt for the law. "It would be purely a family arrangement.Sisily could be assured by somebody in whom she has reliance--not herfather, of course--that there was some legal reason why she could notsucceed. I do not think there would be any trouble with her. She does notlook the kind of girl to delight in a title and a lot of money. Robertwould have to settle a handsome allowance on the poor child--indeed, it isthe very least he can do! If Robert agreed to this course there would beno need to blurt out the brutal truth, and I would take Sisily under mycharge."
Mr. Pendleton saw several objections to his wife's plan, but he had longlearnt the futility of domestic argument--on the husband's side at least."How much do you consider your brother ought to allow Sisily?" he asked.
"Two thousand a year. Robert can well afford it."
"Do you think your brother Austin would agree?"
"Of course he wouldn't. Austin is horribly selfish. He wouldn't giveSisily a penny if he had his way, now that he knows the truth. But I don'tintend to consult Austin in the matter. I thought of as
king Dr. Ravenshawto go with me and try and influence Robert. Robert trusts him implicitly,and he seems to have a great deal of influence with him. I feel sure hewould do his utmost to bring Robert to listen to reason. Do you not thinkmy plan a good one?"
In the secret depth of his heart Mr. Pendleton did not, but with the moralcowardice of a husband he forebore from saying so. "It might be tried," hefeebly muttered.
"Very well, we will try it, then," said his wife, rising from her seat asshe spoke. "Go and order that motor-car we had this afternoon while I getready."
Mr. Pendleton was accustomed to his wife's energetic way of doing thingson the spur of the moment, but he had never become used to it. "Do youintend to go and see your brother to-night?" he said, with an air ofsurprise.
"Why not?"
Mr. Pendleton sought for a reason, but could find none. "It's rather late,isn't it?" he suggested.
"Nonsense!" Mrs. Pendleton glanced at her wrist watch. "It's not much pasteight."
"Why not leave it until the morning?" said her husband, with a lingeringglance at the cheery glow of the log-fire in the lounge. "It's a beast ofa night to be out. Hark to the wind!"
"If it is to be settled, it must be settled to-night," said Mrs. Pendletondecisively. "There'll be no time in the morning for anything, if we are tocatch the ten o'clock train for London. Beside, Austin would see us if wewent there in daylight, and I do not want him to know anything aboutit--he would only try and put obstacles in our way."
"What about Sisily?"
"She will be quite all right in her room. She looked tired out, and needsa good night's rest. You had better see about the car at once."
Mr. Pendleton said no more, and his wife bustled away to put on heroutdoor things. When she descended from her room her husband was awaitingher in the lounge, and the head-light of the hired motor-car gleamed inthe darkness outside.
They set out through the narrow uneven streets, which smelt strongly ofmackerel and pitch. In a few minutes the car was clear of the town, andrunning at an increased pace through the gusty darkness of the moors.