Lady Rose's Daughter Part 57

"Suppose you take her there?" he said, pausing abruptly before her.

"To St. James's Square? What did you tell her?"

"That he was a trifle better, and that you would come to her."

"Yes, it would be hard for her to go alone," said the d.u.c.h.ess, reflectively. She looked at her watch. "Only a little after eleven.

Ring, please, Jacob."

The carriage was ordered. Meanwhile the little lady inquired eagerly after her Julie. Had she been exhausted by the double journey? Was she alone in Paris, or was Madame Bornier with her?

Jacob had understood that Madame Bornier and the little girl had gone straight to Bruges.

The d.u.c.h.ess looked down and then looked up.

"Did--did you come across Major Warkworth?"

"Yes, I saw him for a moment in the Rue de la Paix, He was starting for Rome."

The d.u.c.h.ess turned away as though ashamed of her question, and gave her orders for the carriage. Then her attention was suddenly drawn to her cousin. "How pale you look, Jacob," she said, approaching him. "Won't you have something--some wine?"

Delafield refused, declaring that all he wanted was an hour or two's sleep.

"I go back to Paris to-morrow," he said, as he prepared to take his leave. "Will you be here to-night if I look in?"

"Alack! we go to Scotland to-night! It was just a piece of luck that you found me this morning. Freddie is fuming to get away."

Delafield paused a moment. Then he abruptly shook hands and went.

"He wants news of what happens at St. James's Square," thought the d.u.c.h.ess, suddenly, and she ran after him to the top of the stairs.

"Jacob! If you don't mind a horrid mess to-night, Freddie and I shall be dining alone--of course we must have something to eat. Somewhere about eight. Do look in. There'll be a cutlet--on a trunk--anyway."

Delafield laughed, hesitated, and finally accepted.

The d.u.c.h.ess went back to the drawing-room, not a little puzzled and excited.

"It's very, _very_ odd," she said to herself. "And what _is_ the matter with Jacob?"

Half an hour later she drove to the splendid house in St. James's Square where Lord Lackington lay dying.

She asked for Lord Uredale, the eldest son, and waited in the library till he came.

He was a tall, squarely built man, with fair hair already gray, and somewhat absent and impa.s.sive manners.

At sight of him the d.u.c.h.ess's eyes filled with tears. She hurried to him, her soft nature dissolved in sympathy.

"How is your father?"

"A trifle easier, though the doctors say there is no real improvement.

But he is quite conscious--knows us all. I have just been reading him the debate."

"You told me yesterday he had asked for Miss Le Breton," said the d.u.c.h.ess, raising herself on tiptoe as though to bring her low tones closer to his ear. "She's here--in town, I mean. She came back from Paris last night."

Lord Uredale showed no emotion of any kind. Emotion was not in his line.

"Then my father would like to see her," he said, in a dry, ordinary voice, which jarred upon the sentimental d.u.c.h.ess.

"When shall I bring her?"

"He is now comfortable and resting. If you are free--"

The d.u.c.h.ess replied that she would go to Heribert Street at once. As Lord Uredale took her to her carriage a young man ran down the steps hastily, raised his hat, and disappeared.

Lord Uredale explained that he was the husband of the famous young beauty, Mrs. Delaray, whose portrait Lord Lackington had been engaged upon at the time of his seizure. Having been all his life a skilful artist, a man of fas.h.i.+on, and a harmless haunter of lovely women, Lord Lackington, as the d.u.c.h.ess knew, had all but completed a gallery of a hundred portraits, representing the beauty of the reign. Mrs. Delaray's would have been the hundredth in a series of which Mrs. Norton was the first.

"He has been making arrangements with the husband to get it finished,"

said Lord Uredale; "it has been on his mind."

The d.u.c.h.ess s.h.i.+vered a little.

"He knows he won't finish it?"

"Quite well."

"And he still thinks of those things?"

"Yes--or politics," said Lord Uredale, smiling faintly. "I have written to Mr. Montresor. There are two or three points my father wants to discuss with him."

"And he is not depressed, or troubled about himself?"

"Not in the least. He will be grateful if you will bring him Miss Le Breton."

"Julie, my darling, are you fit to come with me?"

The d.u.c.h.ess held her friend in her arms, soothing and caressing her.

How forlorn was the little house, under its dust-sheets, on this rainy, spring morning! And Julie, amid the dismantled drawing-room, stood spectrally white and still, listening, with scarcely a word in reply, to the affection, or the pity, or the news which the d.u.c.h.ess poured out upon her.

"Shall we go now? I am quite ready."

And she withdrew herself from the loving grasp which held her, and put on her hat and gloves.

"You ought to be in bed," said the d.u.c.h.ess. "Those night journeys are too abominable. Even Jacob looks a wreck. But what an extraordinary chance, Julie, that Jacob should have found you! How did you come across each other?"

"At the Nord Station," said Julie, as she pinned her veil before the gla.s.s over the mantel-piece.

Some instinct silenced the d.u.c.h.ess. She asked no more questions, and they started for St. James's Square.