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Beyond The Rocks: A Love Story, a novel by Elinor Glyn |
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Chapter 19 |
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_ CHAPTER XIX Harrowfield House, as every one knows, is one of the finest in London; and with the worst manners, and an inordinate insolence, Lady Harrowfield ruled her section of society with a rod of iron. Indeed, all sections coveted the invitations of this disagreeable lady. Her path was strewn with lovers, and protected by a proud and complacent husband, who had realized early he never would be master of the situation, and had preferred peace to open scandal. She was a woman of sixty now, and, report said, still had her lapses. But every incident was carried off with a high-handed, brazen daring, and an assumption of right and might and prerogative which paralyzed criticism. So it was that with the record of a _demimondaine_--and not one kind action to her credit--Lady Harrowfield still held her place among the spotless, and ruled as a queen. There was not above two years' difference between her age and Lady Bracondale's; indeed, the latter had been one of her bridesmaids; but no one to look at them at a distance could have credited it for a minute. Lady Harrowfield had golden hair and pink cheeks, and her _embonpoint_ retained in the most fashionable outline. And if towards two in the morning, or when she lost at bridge, her face did remind on-lookers of a hideous colored mask of death and old age--one can't have everything in life; and Lady Harrowfield had already obtained more than the lion's share. This night in June she stood at the top of her splendid staircase, blazing with jewels, receiving her guests, among whom more than one august personage, English and foreign, was expected to arrive; and an unusually sour frown disfigured the thick paint of her face. It all seemed like fairy-land to Theodora as, accompanied by Josiah, and preceded by Mrs. Devlyn, she early mounted the marble steps with the rest of the throng. She noticed the insolent stare of her hostess as she shook hands and then passed on in the crowd. She felt a little shy and nervous and excited withal. Every one around seemed to have so many friends, and to be so gay and joyous, and only she and Josiah stood alone. For Mrs. Devlyn felt she had done enough for one night in bringing them there. It was an immense crowd. At a smaller ball Theodora's exquisite beauty must have commanded instant attention, but this was a special occasion, and the world was too occupied with a desire to gape at the foreign king to trouble about any new-comers. Certainly for the first hour or so. Josiah was feeling humiliated. Not a creature spoke to them, and they were hustled along like sheep into the ballroom. A certain number of men stared--stared with deep interest, and made plans for introductions as soon as the crowd should subside a little. Theodora was perfectly dressed, and her jewels caused envy in numbers of breasts. She was too little occupied with herself to feel any of Josiah's humiliation. This society was hers by right of birth, and did not disconcert her; only no one could help being lonely when quite neglected, while others danced. Presently, a thin, ill-tempered-looking old man made his way with difficulty up to their corner; he had been speaking to Mrs. Devlyn across the room. "I must introduce myself," he said, graciously, to Theodora. "I am your uncle, Patrick Fitzgerald, and I am so delighted to meet you and make your acquaintance." Theodora bowed without _empressement_. She had no feeling for these relations who had been so indifferent to her while she was poor and who had treated darling papa so badly. "I only got back to town last night, or I and my wife would have called at Claridge's before this," he continued. And then he said something affable to Josiah, who looked strangely out of place among this brilliant throng. For whatever may compose the elements of the highest London society, the atoms all acquire a certain air after a little, and if within this _fine fleur_ of the aristocracy there lurked some Jews and Philistines and infidels of the middle classes, they were not quite new to the game, and had all received their gloss. So poor Josiah stood out rather by himself, and Sir Patrick Fitzgerald felt a good deal ashamed of him. Theodora's fine senses had perceived all this long ago--the contrast her husband presented to the rest of the world--and it had made her stand closer to him and treat him with more deference than usual; her generous heart always responded to any one or anything in an unhappy position. And through all his thick skin Josiah felt something of her tenderness, and glowed with pride in her. Sir Patrick Fitzgerald continued to talk, and even paid his niece some bluff compliments. Her manner was so perfect, he decided! Gad! he could be proud of his new-found relation. And though the husband was nothing but a grocer still, and looked it every inch, by Jove, he was rich enough to gild his vulgarity and be tolerated among the highest. Thus the uncle was gushing and lavish in his invitations and offers of friendship. They must come to Beechleigh for Whitsuntide. He would hear of no refusal. Going home! Oh, what nonsense! Home was a place one could go to at any time. And he would so like to show them Beechleigh at its best, where her father had lived all his young life. Josiah was caught by his affable suggestions. Why should they not go? Only that morning he had received a letter from his agent at Bessington Hall to say the place, unfortunately, would not be completely ready for them. Why, then, should they not accept this pleasant invitation? Theodora hesitated--but he cut her short. "I am sure it is very good of you, Sir Patrick, and my wife and I will be delighted to come," he said. By this time the excitement of the royal entrance and quadrille had somewhat subsided, and several people felt themselves drawn to be presented to the beautiful young woman in white with the really fine jewels, and before she knew where she was, Theodora found herself waltzing with a wonderfully groomed, ugly young marquis. She had meant not to dance--not to leave her husband's side; but fate and Josiah had ordered otherwise. "Not dance! What nonsense, my love! Go at once with his lordship," he had said, when Sir Patrick had presented Lord Wensleydown. And wincing at the sentence, Theodora had allowed herself to be whirled away. Her partner was not more than nine-and-twenty; but he had all the blase airs of a man of forty. He began to say _entreprenant_ things to Theodora after three turns round the room. She was far too unsophisticated to understand their ultimate meaning, but they made her uncomfortable. He gazed at her loveliness with that insulting look of sensual admiration which some men think the highest compliment they can pay to a woman. And just in the middle of all this, Hector Bracondale arrived upon the scene. He had been searching for her everywhere; in that crowd one could miss any one with ease. He stood and watched her before she caught sight of him--watched her pure whiteness in the clutches of this beast of prey. Saw his burning looks; noted his attitude; imagined his whisperings--and murderous feelings leaped to his brain. How dared Wensleydown! How dared any one! Ah, God! and he was powerless to prevent it. She was the wife of Josiah Brown over there, smiling and complacent to see _his_ belonging dancing with a marquis! "Hector, dearest, what is the matter?" exclaimed Lady Anningford, coming up at that moment to her brother's side. She was with Colonel Lowerby, and they had made a tour of the rooms on purpose to see Theodora. "You appear ready to murder some one. What has happened?" Hector looked straight at her. She was a very tall woman, almost his height, and she saw pain and rage and passion were swimming in his eyes, while his deep voice vibrated as he answered: "Yes, I want to murder some one--and possibly will before the evening is over." "Hector! Crow, leave me with him, like the dear you always are," she whispered to Colonel Lowerby, "and come and find me again in a few minutes." "Hector, what is it?" she asked, anxiously, when they stood alone. "Look!" said Lord Bracondale. "Look at Wensleydown leaning over Theodora." He was so moved that he uttered the name without being aware of it. "Did you ever see such a damned cad as he is? Good God, I cannot bear it!" "He--he is only dancing with her," said Anne, soothingly. What had come to her brother, her whimsical, cynical brother, who troubled not at all, as a rule, over anything in the world? "Only dancing with her! I tell you I will not bear it. Where is the Crow? Why did you send him off? I can't stay with you; I must go and speak to her, and take her away from this." "Hector, for Heaven's sake do not be so mad," said Lady Anningford, now really alarmed. "You can't go up and seize a woman from her partner in the middle of a waltz. You must be completely crazy! Dear boy, let us stay here by the door until the music finishes, and then I will speak to her before they can leave the room to sit out." She put her hand on his arm to detain him, and started to feel how it trembled. What passion was this? Surely the Crow was right, after all, and it could only lead to some inevitable catastrophe. Anne's heart sank; the lights and the splendor seemed all a gilded mockery. At that moment Morella Winmarleigh advanced with Evermond Le Mesurier--their uncle Evermond--who, having other views for his own amusement, left her instantly at Anne's side and disappeared among the crowd. "How impossible to find any one in this crush!" Miss Winmarleigh said. There was a cackly tone in her voice, especially when raised above the din of the music, which was peculiarly irritating to sensitive ears. Hector felt he hated her. Anne still kept her hand on his arm, and flight was hopeless. Just then a Royalty passed with their hostess, and claimed Lady Anningford's attention, so Hector was left sole guardian of Morella Winmarleigh. She cackled on about nothing, while his every sense was strained watching Theodora, to see that she did not leave the room without his knowledge. She was whirling still in the maze of the waltz, and each time she passed fresh waves of rage surged in Hector's breast, as he perceived the way in which Lord Wensleydown held her. "Why, there is the woman who was at the opera last night," exclaimed Morella, at last. "How in the world did an outsider like that get here, I wonder? She is quite pretty, close--don't you think so, Hector? Oh, I forgot, you know her, of course; you talked to her last night, I remember." Hector did not answer; he was afraid to let himself speak. Morella Winmarleigh was looking her best. A tonged, laced, flounced best; and she was perfectly conscious of it, and pleased with herself and her attractions. She meant to keep Lord Bracondale with her for the rest of the evening if possible, even if she had to descend to tricks scarcely flattering to her own vanity. "Do let us go for a walk," she said. "I have not yet seen the flower decorations in the yellow salon, and I hear they are particularly fine." Hector by this time was beside himself at seeing Theodora converging with her partner towards the large doors at the other end of the ballroom. "No," he said. "I am very sorry, but I am engaged for the next dance, and must go and hunt up my partner. Where can I take you?" Hector engaged for a dance? An unknown thing, and of course untrue. What could this mean? Who would he dance with? That colonial creature? This must be looked into and stopped at once. Miss Winmarleigh's thin under-lip contracted, and a deeper red suffused her blooming cheeks. "I really don't know," she said. "I am quite lost, and I am afraid you can't leave me until I find some one to take care of me." And she giggled girlishly. That such a large cow of a woman should want protection of any sort seemed quite ridiculous to Hector--maddeningly ridiculous at the present moment. Theodora had disappeared, having seen him standing there with Morella Winmarleigh, who she had been told he was going to marry. He was literally white with suppressed rage. The Royalty had commandeered Anne, and among the dozens of people he knew there was not one in sight with whom he could plant Morella Winmarleigh; so he gave her his arm, and hurried along the way Theodora had disappeared. "Are you going to Beechleigh for Whitsuntide?" Morella asked. "I am, and I think we shall have a delightful party." Hector was not paying the least attention. Theodora was completely out of sight now, and might be lost altogether, for all they were likely to overtake her among this crowd and the numberless exits and entrances. "Beechleigh!" he mumbled, absently. "Who lives there? I don't even know. I am going home." "Why, Hector, of course you know! The Fitzgeralds--Sir Patrick and Lady Ada. Every one does." Then it came to him. These were Theodora's uncle and aunt. Was it possible she could be going there, too? He recollected she had told him in Paris her father had written to this brother of his about her coming to London. She might be going. It was a chance, and he must ascertain at once. Sir Patrick Fitzgerald he knew at the Turf, and now that he thought of it he knew Lady Ada by sight quite well, and he was aware he would be a welcome guest at any house. If Theodora was going, he expected the thing could be managed. Meanwhile, he must find her, and get rid of Morella Winmarleigh. He hurried her on through the blue salon and the yellow salon and out into the gallery beyond. Theodora had completely disappeared. Miss Winmarleigh kept up a constant chatter of commonplaces, to which, when he replied at all, he gave random answers. And every moment she became more annoyed and uneasy. She had known Hector since she was a child. Their places adjoined in the country, and she saw him constantly when there. Her stolid vanity had never permitted the suggestion to come to her that he had always been completely indifferent to her. She intended to marry him. His mother shared her wishes. They were continually thrown together, and the thought of her as a probable ending to his life when all pleasures should be over had often entered his head. Before he met Theodora, if he had ever analyzed his views about Morella, they probably would have been that she was a safe bore with a great many worldly advantages. A woman who you could be sure would not take a lover a few years after you had married her, and whom he would probably marry if she were still free when the time came. His flittings from one pretty matron to another had not caused her grave anxieties. He could not marry them, and he never talked with girls or possible rivals. So she had always felt safe and certain that fate would ultimately make him her husband. But this was different--he had never been like this before. And uneasiness grabbed at her well-regulated heart. "Ah, there is my mother!" he exclaimed, at last, with such evident relief that Morella began to feel spiteful. They made their way to where Lady Bracondale was standing. She beamed upon them like a pleased pussy-cat. It looked so suitable to see them thus together! "Dearest," she said to Morella, "is not this a lovely ball? And I can see you are enjoying yourself." Miss Winmarleigh replied suitably, and her stolid face betrayed none of her emotion. "Mother," said Hector, "I wish you would introduce me to Lady Ada Fitzgerald when you get the chance. I see her over there." This was so obvious that Morella, who never saw between the lines, preened with pleasure. After all, he wished to spend Whitsuntide with her, and this anxiety to find Lady Bracondale had been all on that account. Lady Bracondale, who was acquainted with Miss Winmarleigh's plans, made the same interruption, and joy warmed her being. She was only too pleased to do whatever he wished. And the affair was soon accomplished. Hector made himself especially attractive, and Lady Ada Fitzgerald decided he was charming. The way paved for possible contingencies, he escaped from this crowd of women, and once more began his search for Theodora. She would certainly return to Josiah some time. To go straight to him would be the best plan. Josiah was standing absolutely alone by one of the windows in the ballroom, and looked pitiably uncomfortable and ill at ease in his knee-breeches and silk stockings. He had experienced such pleasure when he had tried them on, and had enjoyed walking through the hall at Claridge's to his carriage, knowing the people there would be aware it meant he was going to meet the most august Royalty. But now he felt uncomfortable, and kept standing first on one leg, then on the other. Theodora had not returned to him yet: the next dance had not begun. This great world contained discomfort as well as pleasure, he decided. Hector walked straight over to him and was excessively polite and agreeable, and Josiah's equanimity was somewhat restored. What could have happened to Theodora? Where had that beast Wensleydown taken her? Not to supper--surely not to supper?--were Lord Bracondale's thoughts. And then with the first notes of the next dance she reappeared. It seemed to him she was looking superbly lovely: a faint pink suffused her cheeks, and her eyes were shining with the excitement of the scene. A mad rush of passion surged over Hector; his turn had come, he thought. Lord Wensleydown seemed loath to release her, and showed signs of staying to talk awhile. So Hector interposed at once. "May I not have this dance? I have been looking for you everywhere," he said. Theodora told him she was tired, and she stood close to her husband; tired--and also she was quite sure Josiah would be bored left all alone, so she wished to stay with him. But Mrs. Devlyn made a reappearance just then, and as they spoke they saw Josiah give her his arm and lead her away. Thus Theodora was left standing alone with Lord Bracondale. Fate seemed always to nullify her good intentions. It was an exquisite waltz, and the music mounted to both their brains. For one moment the room appeared to reel in front of her, and then she found herself whirling in his arms. Oh, what bliss it was, after this long week of separation! What folly and maddening bliss! Her senses were tingling; her lithe, exquisite, willowy body thrilled and quivered in his embrace. And they both realized what a waltz could be, as a medium for joy. "We will only have two turns until the crowd gets impossible again," he whispered, "and then I will take you to supper." Lady Anningford had been rejoined by the Crow, and now stood watching them. She and her companion were silent for a moment, and then: "By Jove!" Colonel Lowerby said. "She is certainly worth going to hell for, to look at even--and they don't appear as if they would take long on the road." _ |
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