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Jeanne Of The Marshes, a novel by E. Phillips Oppenheim |
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Book 2 - Chapter 4 |
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_ BOOK II CHAPTER IV The Princess looked up with ill-concealed eagerness as Forrest entered. "Well," she asked, "have you any news?" Forrest shook his head. "None," he answered. "I am up for the day only. Cecil will not let me stay any longer. He was here himself the day before yesterday. We take it by turns to come away." "And there is nothing to tell me?" the Princess asked. "No change of any sort?" "None," Forrest answered. "It is no good attempting to persuade ourselves that there is any." "What are you up for, then?" she asked. He laughed hardly. "I am like a diver," he answered, "who has to come to the surface every now and then for fresh air. Life down at Salthouse is very nearly the acme of stagnation. Our only excitement day by day is the danger--and the hope." "Is Cecil getting braver?" the Princess asked. "I think that he is, a little," Forrest answered. The Princess nodded. "We met him at the Bellamy Smiths'," she said. "It was quite a reunion. Andrew was there, and the Duke." Forrest's face darkened. "Meddling fool," he muttered. "Do you know that there are two detectives now in Salthouse? They come and go and ask all manner of questions. One of them pretends that he believes Engleton was drowned, and walks always on the beach and hires boatmen to explore the creeks. The other sits in the inn and bribes the servants with drinks to talk. But don't let's talk about this any longer. How is Jeanne?" "We are going," the Princess said quietly, "to have trouble with that child." "Why?" Forrest asked. "She is developing a conscience," the Princess remarked. "Where she got it from, Heaven knows. It wasn't from her father. I can answer for that." "Anything else?" Forrest asked. "It is a curious thing," the Princess replied, "but ever since those few days down at that tumbledown old place of Cecil de la Borne's, she seems to have developed in a remarkable manner. I don't know how much nonsense she talked with that fisherman of hers, but some of it, at any rate, seems to have stuck. I am sure," she added, with a little sigh, "that we are going to have trouble." Forrest smiled grimly. "So far as I'm concerned," he remarked, "the trouble has arrived. I've a good mind to chuck it altogether." The Princess looked up. Worn though her face was, she possessed one feature, her eyes, which still entitled her to be called a beautiful woman. She looked at Forrest steadily, and he felt himself growing uncomfortable before the contempt of her steady regard. "I wonder how it is," she said pensively, "that all men are more or less cowards. You shield yourselves by speaking of an attack of nerves. It is nothing more nor less than cowardice." "I believe you are right," Forrest assented. "I'm not the man I was." "You are not," the Princess agreed. "It is well for you that you have had me to look after you, or you would have gone to pieces altogether. You talk of giving up cards and retiring to the Continent. My dear man, what do you propose to live on?" He did not answer. He had bullied this woman for a good many years. Now he felt that the tables were being turned upon him. "What has become of the De la Borne money?" she asked. "I never thought that you would get it, but he paid up every cent, didn't he?" Forrest nodded. "He did," he admitted, "or rather his brother did for him. I lost four hundred at Goodwood, and there were some of my creditors I simply had to give a little to, or they would have pulled me up altogether. You talk about nerves, Ena, but, hang it all, it's enough to give anyone the hum to lead the sort of life I've had to lead for the last few years. I'm nothing more nor less than a common adventurer." "Whatever you are," the Princess answered steadily, "you are too old to change your life or the manner of it. One can start again afresh on the other side of forty, but at fifty the thing is hopeless. Fortunately you have me." "You!" he repeated bitterly. "You mean that I can dip into your purse for pocket-money when you happen to have any. I have done too much of it. You forget that there is one way into a new world, at any rate." The Princess smiled. "My dear Nigel," she said, "it is a way which you will never take. Don't think I mean to be unkind when I say that you have not the courage. However, we will not talk about that. I sent for you to tell you that De Brensault is really in earnest about Jeanne. He is dining here to-night. I will get some other people and we will have bridge. De Brensault is conceited, and a bad player, and what is most important of all, he can afford to lose." Forrest began to look a little less gloomy. "You were fortunate," he remarked, "to get hold of De Brensault. There are not many of his sort about. I am afraid, though, that he will not make much of an impression upon Jeanne." The Princess' face hardened. "If Jeanne is going to be obstinate," she said, "she must suffer for it. De Brensault is just the man I have been looking for. He wants a young wife, and although he is rich, he is greedy. He is the sort of person I can talk to. In fact I have already given him a hint." Forrest nodded understandingly. "But, Ena," he said, "if he really does shell out, won't you be sailing rather close to the wind?" She shrugged her shoulders. "I am not afraid," she said. "I know De Brensault and his sort. If he feels that he has been duped, he will keep it to himself. He is too vain a man to allow the world to know it. Poor Jeanne! I am afraid, I am very much afraid that he will take it out of her." "I do not quite see," Forrest said reflectively, "how you are going to make Jeanne marry any one, especially in this country." "Jeanne is French, not English," the Princess remarked, "and she is not of age. A mother has considerable authority legally, as I dare say you are aware. We may not be able to manage it in England, but I think I can guarantee that if De Brensault doesn't disappoint us, the wedding will take place." Forrest helped himself to a cigarette from an open box by his side. "I think," he said, "that if it comes off we ought to go to the States for a year or so. They don't know us so well there, and those people are the easiest duped of any in the world." The Princess nodded. "I have thought of that," she remarked. "There are only one or two little things against it. However, we will see. You had better go now. I have some callers coming and must make myself respectable." She gave him her hands and he raised them to his lips. Her eyes followed him as he turned away and left the room. For a few moments she was thoughtful. Then she shrugged her shoulders. "Well," she said, "all things must come to an end, I suppose." She rang the bell and sent for Jeanne. It was ten minutes, however, before she appeared. "What have you been doing?" the Princess asked with a frown. "Finishing some letters," Jeanne answered calmly. "Did you want me particularly?" "To whom were you writing?" the Princess demanded. "To Monsieur Laplanche for one person," Jeanne answered calmly. The Princess raised her eyebrows. "And what had you," she asked, "to say to Monsieur Laplanche?" "I have written to ask him a few particulars concerning my fortune," Jeanne answered. "Such as?" the Princess inquired steadily. "I want to know," Jeanne said, "at what age it becomes my own, and how much it amounts to. It seems to me that I have a right to know these things, and as you will not tell me, I have written to Monsieur Laplanche." The Princess held out her hand. "Give me the letter," she said. Jeanne made no motion to obey. "Do you object to my writing?" she asked. "I object," the Princess said, "to your writing anybody on any subject without my permission, and so far as regards the information you have asked for from Monsieur Laplanche, I will tell you all that you want to know." "I prefer," Jeanne said steadily, "to hear it from Monsieur Laplanche himself. There are times when you say things which I do not understand. I have quite made up my mind that I will have things made plain to me by my trustee." The Princess was outwardly calm, but her eyes were like steel. "You are a foolish child," she said. "I am your guardian. You have nothing whatever to do with your trustees. They exist to help me, not you. Everything that you wish to know you must learn from me. It is not until you are of age that any measure of control passes from me. Give me that letter." Jeanne hesitated for a moment. Then she turned toward the door. "No!" she said. "I am going to post it." The Princess rose from her chair, and crossing the room locked the door. "Jeanne," she said, "come here." The girl hesitated. In the end she obeyed. The Princess reached out her hand and struck her on the cheek. "Give me that letter," she commanded. Jeanne shrank back. The suddenness of the blow, its indignity, and these new relations which it seemed designed to indicate, bewildered her. She stood passive while the Princess took the letter from her fingers and tore it into pieces. Then she unlocked the door. "Go to your room, Jeanne," she ordered. Jeanne heard the sound of people ascending the stairs, and this time she did not hesitate. The Princess drew a little breath and looked at the fragments of the letter in the grate. It was victory of a sort, but she realized very well that the ultimate issue was more doubtful than ever. In her room Jeanne would have time for reflection. If she chose she might easily decide upon the one step which would be irretrievable. _ |
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