Stuart was now so disturbed that he decided not to introduce Janie to the other engrossed ladies, though they were eying them both furtively. He conducted Janie from the shop, with an air and much dash. He took her to the other shops.
As they went from one to the other, Janie was genuinely impressed. Her eyes blinked thoughtfully. Her manner towards Stuart became more intimate and fond and delighted. Her fifteen thousand pounds were safe, then, from any cousinly fortune-hunter. This vast and prosperous establishment was obviously not only on a paying basis, but the source of much revenue. Stuart, in spite of her previous opinion, was apparently possessed of an extraordinary amount of buiness acumen and enterprise. She saw that he had many employees. She saw the streaming carriages. She saw the activity. She heard the jingle of money. It was like a bee-hive about the shops, and Stuart assured her that on Saturday the streets about the shops were impassable. Every barge that came up the Canal was loaded with his goods. Twice a year he went to New York, where he negotiated for the import of the finest European merchandise from England and France, and even from Italy and the Orient. There was no limit to what he could do, he assured her. He had the most wonderful plans, he hinted, but that must wait a little. He had not finished expanding.
She saw that not all of this was bombast, but based on shrewd business intuition. It was a land for dreamers, for bold entrepreneurs, for imaginative adventurers who gambled largely and won magnificently. Her insular soul was shaken.
“You must save a lot of money, my love,” she said, tentatively, moistening her lips avidly.
Stuart hesitated. He smiled down at her patronizingly. “That is not the way to make a fortune in America, my pet,” he assured her. “This is not England, where you laboriously add penny to penny. ‘Many a mickle makes a muckle,’ to quote your esteemed father. No, that is not our way in America. In England, one puts pence in the bank and watches them grow to painful pounds. In America, we put our pounds back into our enterprises, and watch them make golden fortunes. This is a land of tremendous distances, not a narrow little island. One cannot estimate things here. One must venture, if one is to gain, and not venture with pennies, but with fortunes.”
Janie was shrewd and intuitive, also. She was shaken to her foundations. She saw all the possibilities. Suddenly her fifteen thousand pounds were a meager thing, a miserable drop of water in a golden well that was bottomless. She had thought of herself as an heiress. She was apparently only a poor widow with a mite. Her heart burned with greed. She would be conferring nothing on Stuart with her wretched pounds, he who had hundreds of thousands of pounds in mind.
She leaned against him, clinging to him, as they went from shop to shop. Stuart had intended her to be impressed. He had exaggerated. He had hoped, at best, to put her into a state of mind in which she would be amenable to a loan of ten thousand dollars to him. He felt her to be impressed. Had he known to what extent, he would have been delirious with pleasure.
She met Sam Berkowitz in one of the shops, and she stared at him forbiddingly. Not knowing the full extent of his share in this dazzling prosperity, she thought of him as a hanger-on, kept here by the noble generosity of the gilded Stuart. She was very prim and reticent towards him, as befitted a Christian, while he looked at her silently with his hooded and lighted brown eyes, and bowed to her courteously. She did not know that he followed her with his long sad gaze as she swept from the shops, and that he shook his head a little.
CHAPTER 19
Janie ate alone with Stuart that evening for the first time since her illness. The beautiful dining-room was golden with candlelight. Stuart had ordered an especially fine dinner. He plied Janie with excellent wines. Gradually her coldness of flesh warmed. The golden light swam all about her. She laughed louder and louder, sitting there in her best blue velvet and pearls, her curls red and shining on her thin shoulders. Her rowdy voice was rich with ribald jokes. Her glass was never empty. Never had she felt so deliciously free, so fascinating, so full of worldliness and poise, so clever and sparkling. She was in her proper place at last. Her old home was entirely forgotten. Her onerous children did not exist. She had no parents, no memories. She was an elegant lady of gracious salons and waltzes and music and fine toilettes, fascinating a handsome and beloved companion whom she was about to marry. Because of her exhilaration, she appeared quite intriguing, even to Stuart. How had he forgotten what a gay companion Janie was? How had he forgotten that one was never bored in her company, and that her effervescent and cruel little malices were so witty?
On a wave of huge and boisterous laughter, they went together into the lovely drawing-room, where a great fire burned and fresh liqueurs were set out. They drank each other’s health again and again. The most tender affection and excitement pervaded them. Janie’s croaking mirth could be heard in distant rooms. Suddenly she rose, pulled up her flowing and swelling skirts and waltzed about the room, showing her silken knees, and even her thighs, most licentiously. Stuart applauded noisily. Janie cavorted and swayed, kicked and pranced quite gracefully, while Stuart bellowed: “Bravo! Bravo!” The children, far up in their beds, listened, and Bertie, in his nightshirt, stole to the head of the stairs, grinning and snapping his fingers. “Mama’s at it again,” he whispered to Robbie, who was indifferent. Angus sighed in his bed, arose and shut the door of the bedroom of his frightened little sister, after kissing her and getting her assurance that she had said her prayers. The servants peeped in at the revellers and went away, snickering.
Janie at last collapsed, weak with laughter and exercise, and sprawled on a damask sofa. She allowed Stuart to take her hand and pull her upright. He bent and kissed her, out of sheer exuberance. She clung to him like a tigress, and so great was her ardor that he was suddenly warned. Gently, he disengaged himself and sat near her while she, laughing, smoothed her curls and pulled down her gown.
“Never have I enjoyed myself so!” she shouted, flinging out her arms. “Ah, it’s a rare devil you are, Stuart!”
He sat, not far from her, his hands on his knees, laughing uncontrollably. His black eyes dwelt on her cunningly. It was really a pretty little piece, this Janie. His neck felt thick and pulsing; the veins started in his forehead. What the devil! She was no child, but a woman older than he, and ready. It was a lewd baggage, knowing and lusty. A night might be pleasantly spent with her, and no one the wiser.
She saw his eyes, and a long hot thrill came over her body. Ah, there was more than one way to skin a cat! There was no doubt that Stuart found her desirable. She knew a great deal about men. Once involved with her, he could not retreat. Besides, he had the kindest heart.
She lifted her arms with deliberate languor and rearranged her hair. Her waist was tiny and neat, in its stays. She regretted that she had not more bosom. Her green eyes narrowed seductively. Stuart moved on his chair.
But there was one thing that Janie did not know about Stuart. He was tenacious. He was crafty. He put first things first, most of the time. Later, he would consider other things. He had no scruples.
He went to the sofa and sat down beside her, taking her hand. He kissed it gallantly. Then, though the fumes of the wine were still boiling in him, his mind became clear. Janie looked at him ardently. She was very silent now. He allowed his face to become thoughtful, even grave.
“Janie, my love,” he began, in a serious and considering voice, “you told me that you had fifteen thousand pounds. That is roughly seventy-five thousand dollars.” He shook his head. “That is very little for America. I’ve been worrying very much about you.” He cleared his throat, and appeared embarrassed. “Even should you remarry, that money is little enough. I should like to see you possessed of much more. It is the least I can do for you.”
Janie sat up alertly, her eyes gleaming in the firelight. She wet her lips in the familiar covetous manner. Her hand tightened in his. “Yes,” she said, softly.
“It’s the least I can do,” he repeated, in a firmer voice, as though challenging an unseen listener,
who might be very admonishing. “Yes, the very least. So I’ve thought of a way. Mind you, I’ll encounter much difficulty. But I’m prepared for argument and disagreement, and protests. We are a closed partnership. We’ve never considered such a thing—” He paused. He sighed and frowned, and averted his head.
Janie was tense. “Go on, Stuart,” she commanded. “After all, we are cousins, are we not?”
He sighed, without answering for a time. Then, in a lower and reluctant voice, he continued: “Janie, even though your money was safe in the banks, consider the interest. Very small. Should you decide not to remarry, you could not live on that interest, in the pleasant manner to which you are accustomed. Not in America, at least, and not with four children. Money doesn’t grow by itself. You would be compelled to live on the principal. Your fortune would soon go. Who, then, would marry an impecunious widow, with four children?”
Janie regarded him with gray fear. Her eyes blinked. She bit her lip.
Stuart was much disturbed. “Do not think it is easy for me to speak to you like this, Janie. I wish I could do something for you. I—I have spoken of it, to someone else, but he protests—”
“The Jew!” cried Janie, enraged, and beating the sofa with her clenched fist.
Stuart winced. He cleared his throat. “Janie, don’t say that. It isn’t quite true. But a man has to protect his interests, you understand. However,” and he sat up, quite exultant, “I have thought of a way!”
“Yes!” exclaimed Janie, her face lighting up with eagerness. “Yes, Stuart!”
He turned to her, and gripped her shoulders excitedly. His hands were strong. His face was alight. He was an excellent actor. He cried: “Janie, would you be willing to invest twenty thousand dollars in my shops?”
A sudden cold wave swept over Janie, an old Scottish caution and suspicion. She leaned away from Stuart, but he still gripped her. She studied his face, and now she was sober. But she could find nothing there but excitement and generous affection.
“Go on,” she whispered, thickly.
He could not contain his enthusiasm now. He started to his feet. He paced the room. He struck one clenched fist in the palm of the other. His acting was so convincing that all her suspicions were gone. Her excitement rose again. She sat on the edge of the sofa and watched him.
“Janie!” he cried, suddenly stopping and wheeling towards her. “I will tell you something that no one knows except, of course, the banks! Sam and I have an income of over fifty thousand dollars a year from the shops! It is a secret, and I am telling you this in confidence. If you invest twenty thousand dollars in the shops, you will have a handsome income of about five thousand dollars a year, as your share! If you invest more, the income will be in proportion. And all without touching the balance of your principal. You will be a partner in the Grandeville Supreme Emporium, whose possibilities are limitless! Later on, there is no telling what your income will be! I’ve told you how we intend to expand! You have seen for yourself!”
He watched her, his eyes kindling, his face dark with congested blood.
“Janie! Do you understand? Do you see what I am offering you, who must be protected?”
Janie twined a red curl about one trembling finger. She was very white. He plunged down beside her again, laughing silently, and with evident joy.
“I think I can persuade Sam, Janie! I think he will understand how I can do no less, you being my cousin. I will have the papers drawn up tomorrow, my darling! And then you will have no worries, and need only sit back, you darling little creature, and watch your income grow, and anticipate larger and larger profits as we expand!”
Janie spoke hoarsely: “But Stuart, you did say that you were compelled to borrow ten thousand dollars from Mr. Allstairs, for your house. Why did you not withdraw the money from your business?”
At this shrewd query, Stuart was taken aback. His brow wrinkled. He cursed himself for his loose tongue. I never think! he thought, hating himself. He forced himself to laugh boyishly, to look sheepish. He rubbed his cheek with the knuckles of his right hand.
He chuckled, as if embarrassed. “My pet, I spoke too loosely. You mustn’t breathe that to a soul. You see, most of my money is in the business. Sam and I put back our profits into it. I suppose it is a little complicated to a female mind, but I will try to explain. If I had withdrawn that ten thousand dollars from my business, I should have cut into the profits. I don’t want that. I don’t want anything to interfere with that.” He put on a knowing air, and winked at her in an engaging fashion. “I don’t want anything to interfere with the expansion. It was a private loan from Allstairs. It has nothing to do with the shops at all.”
He spoke his lies with so artless a manner, with such a boyish air of simple confession, that Janie, the astute, was completely deceived. In a way, also, she was seduced by her opinion of her own acumen. Stuart could never “come over” so shrewd a baggage as Janie Cauder!
“I see,” she murmured, with a clever air. She shook her red curls at him chidingly. “My love, you are very bad. Well, no matter.” She drew a deep breath. Her eyes gleamed again. “You will draw the papers tomorrow, Stuart?”
He was almost beside himself with his triumph. Tomorrow, then, old Allstairs would have his ten thousand dollars thrown into his devilish face. Then a quick marriage to Marvina and her fortune. His mind whirled. It would have to be an elopement, in a way. Before Janie was undeceived, and without the knowledge of Allstairs. Marvina was of age. She was her father’s darling. He would rage awhile, and threaten. But there was nothing he could do. Later he would be reconciled. The mighty fortune, in due course, would then fall into Stuart’s hands. He could hardly contain himself in his exultation and delirium. He had not dreamt it would be so easy. His opinion of himself rose to rapturous heights. What a devilishly clever dog he was! What a brilliant blackguard! He saw visions that made his senses swim.
He caught Janie in his arms and kissed her with violence. She clung to him. Her mouth was hungry and tumultuous. He was not thinking of her. He caressed her lavishly, but mechanically. His heart was pounding and thick.
And then, slowly at first, but soon quickening, he became aware of the hot and wild passion in his arms. His senses gave a strenuous lurch. He drew back a little. Her arms tightened about him, sinewy. She pulled down his head and fastened her mouth on his, her fingers twined in his black hair. The blood rushed to his neck and face and head, with a long singing.
Later, in her dark room, as Stuart waited, she was glad she had not lighted the candles. She did not wish Stuart to see how meager was her body, despite the lewd flame which burned in it like a conflagration.
CHAPTER 20
Stuart Coleman did not have the opportunity, the next day, of “throwing the ten thousand dollars into old Allstairs’ face,” for the reason that both Joshua and his adored Marvina had been taken ill a day or two before with the seasonal influenza. Stuart’s buoyant mood awakened him the next morning. He suffered no regrets, no squeamish embarrassment. He was too healthy to harbor them, too realistic. He hoped, in his generosity, that the “amiable indiscretion” had been enjoyed by Janie as much as it had been enjoyed by him. Janie was no defenseless young girl, a fragile guest in his house, whose virtue he must respect. She had no respect for her own virtue, and was hearty and healthy enough to know that she possessed none. If any seduction had taken place, he said to himself, with a laugh, he, not Janie, had been seduced.
He ate alone at breakfast, and set out, very early, to confront and wheedle and browbeat Sam Berkowitz. His mood sustained him. Sam was apt to be difficult at times, and obstinate. The news that he and Stuart had a new partner was bound to be startling to him, to say the least. Stuart went over opening phrases in his mind as he swung through the silent sun-toucned streets, tossing his cane up in the air and catching it, and whistling exuberantly. He bought a newspaper, glanced at the headlines, and went his way. A very happy and peaceable life was this! Certainly there were nasty rumbles from the S
outh, and hot-headed and unconcealed threats against a North that did not understand the slavery problem. But this was nothing. Let the hot-heads call each other names, and peace would prevail. At least Stuart hoped so. As for Europe, he had done with it long ago.
It was not until he reached Sam’s neat little gray house in a very unfashionable section that the first qualms came to him. He frowned in annoyance. He could not, would not, retreat. Sam must be made to see that at once. Doubtless there would be some unpleasantness. That was all that irritated Stuart.
He was admitted to the little quiet parlor by a sleepy maid-servant. Old Mrs. Berkowitz, confined now to her bed with rheumatism, no longer came downstairs in the mornings. But Sam was called, and he entered the parlor in his shirt-sleeves, tall and bowed and lean, with rough hair prematurely gray, his eyes alert and inquiring. But, as always, he was serene and still, his subtle dark face gentle and friendly.
“Ach, Stuart, this is early for you, no?” His voice, heavily accented and grave, nevertheless sounded pleased. If he felt some warning, he did not betray it. “You will haf coffee, yes? I am about to eat my breakfast.”
“I’ve eaten, thank you, Sam.” Beaming ostentatiously, Stuart lifted his coat-tails and seated himself in a velvet chair, leaning his cane against his knees. “It was a little matter of business, which I thought I ought to discuss with you before the banks opened.”