What a Man Wills Part 3

Claudia Biggs had been married for two years, and had flourished like the proverbial bay-tree. Her wedding had been one of the smartest functions of the season, her honeymoon had been spent in a lordly castle "lent for the occasion" by its t.i.tled owner. As Mrs John Biggs, she had made her presentation curtsey to her sovereign in a gown whose magnificence was the talk of the town; every house that was worth visiting threw open its doors to the millionaire and his wife, and Society flocked to the entertainments given by them in their turn.

There had been those who had prophesied disaster from the marriage, who had felt convinced that Claudia would not be able to endure so close a companions.h.i.+p with her Ogre, but as time pa.s.sed on they were obliged to confess their mistake, for Claudia bloomed into an amazing, an almost incredible, beauty. She had always been lovely, but the loveliness of Claudia the maid was as nothing compared with that of Claudia the wife.

What had been, as it were, a flower of the wayside, had become the most rare and costly of exotics, tended with every extravagance of care. The most exquisite garments, the most costly gems, were showered upon her by a husband who took no account of money spent on the adornment of the beauty for which he had paid so high a price; but if he were generous in the fulfilment of his promise, he insisted that Claudia should do her own share. She must be sparing in food and drink, she must take regular exercise; she must keep early hours, and retire to the country for specified periods of rest. John commanded, and, after one memorable attempt at rebellion, Claudia had silently obeyed. She never voluntarily recalled that occasion, but from time to time it visited her in dreams, and then she awoke screaming, as from a nightmare.

At the end of two years, the girl friend who had lectured Claudia on the night of her confession that she wanted money came to pay a visit to the Mayfair mansion, afire with eagerness to see with her own eyes this strangely matched pair. Claudia was lazy about correspondence, and on the rare occasions when she did exert herself to write, her letters were stiff and artificial. She was aware of her own lack of epistolary skill, and was in the habit of referring her friends to the Society papers for news of her doings. "They'll tell you all about my dresses,"

she would say serenely, and following her advice her friends read accounts of wonderful brocades embroidered with real jewels, of trains composed of cloth of gold, and cobweb creations of lace, whose value ran high in four figures, and they laughed to themselves as they read, recalling the old days and the rich cousin's "cast-offs."

Certainly Claudia could now claim to be one of the most gorgeously dressed women in society, but--was she happy? Meriel, who was of a romantic and sensitive temperament, recalled the appearance of John Biggs as he had appeared at the wedding ceremony: the gross bulk of the man, the projecting teeth, the small eyes glowing like points of light, the large coa.r.s.e face; remembering, she shuddered at the remembrance, and for the hundredth time repeated the question--was it possible that Claudia could know happiness with such a mate?

Meriel arrived at the Mayfair mansion late one March afternoon, and was escorted up a magnificent staircase into an equally magnificent drawing-room on the first floor. Everything on which the eyes rested was costly and beautiful, but, looking around with dazzled eyes, Meriel realised that this was but a show-room, an enlarged curio case, in which were exhibited isolated objects of value. There was no harmony about the whole, no skilful blending of effect; the loving touch which turns a house into a home was missing here. The perfect specimens stood stiffly in their places, there was no sign of occupation, not so much as a book lying upon a chair.

The first impression was undoubtedly disappointing, but presently the door opened, and Claudia herself appeared on the threshold, and ran forward, impulsive, loving, and unaffected as in the days of her obscurity.

"Meriel! Oh, Meriel! It _is_ ripping to see you again, you dear, nice old thing! I'm ever so pleased you could come. I don't often have visitors. I'm bored with visitors, but I wanted you. And you look just the same; not a bit older. I always did say you had the sweetest eyes in the world--_and_ the ugliest hats! Meriel darling, I shall take you at once to my milliner's."

"No good, my dear, I've no money to spend. Besides, what's the use of worrying about clothes while I'm with you? I'm bound to look the veriest frump in comparison, so why worry any more? We are not all the wives of millionaires."

"No! Isn't it a pity? I do wish you were. Sit down, dear, and we'll have tea."

Claudia touched the electric bell and seated herself on a sofa a little to the left of her friend's chair, looking towards her with a smile in which complacency was tinged with a touch of anxiety.

"How do I look?"

Meriel looked, laughed, and waved her hands in the air with a gesture meant to convey the inadequacy of words.

"A vision! A dream. Snow white. Rose red. A fairy princess. A diamond queen. Quite unnecessarily and selfishly beautiful, my dear, and as sleek as a well-stroked cat! Really, Claudia, you've eclipsed yourself!"

"Oh, have I? You think so really? Honestly, you think so? Meriel, you _are_ a dear; I do love you!" cried Claudia, and Meriel noticed with amazement that there was unfeigned relief in her voice. It was a new development for Claudia to show any uncertainty concerning her own charms!

Throughout the meal which followed Meriel was absorbed in admiration of the beautiful creature who sat beside her; her unaccustomed eyes dwelt with something like awe upon the costly intricacies of her attire, the limpid purity of the gems which glittered on the white hands. Claudia's clothing expressed the last word in smartness, but she had not been infected by the modern craze for powder and rouge. The beauty of her face and hair were due to nature alone, but, despite the warmth, of her friend's admiration, she herself seemed to feel some uncertainty as to their effect. From time to time she craned her head to study herself in a mirror which hung upon the wall, and at each glance her forehead wrinkled. Meriel pushed her chair slightly to the left so that she also might see that reflection, and discovered with amus.e.m.e.nt that the cause of this perturbation was a slight pink flush which rose above the lace collar, and touched the base of the cheek; she bit her lips to restrain a smile, realising with increased amus.e.m.e.nt that ever since she had entered the room Claudia had skilfully manoeuvred to hide this trifling disfigurement from observation. What a bore to be a society belle who was obliged to worry seriously about a trifle which would probably disappear in the course of a few hours!

The two friends were talking merrily together when the door opened, and John Biggs entered the room. He was slightly thinner, a thought more presentable than of yore, but the small eyes had lost none of their sunken gleam. Meriel had to keep a strong control over herself to hide her shuddering dislike as his hand touched hers, but she acknowledged that he was a gracious host, and that she had no cause to find fault with the manner in which he gave her welcome. The greetings over, she discovered that Claudia had taken advantage of the breathing s.p.a.ce to move her chair to the opposite side of the small tea-table, so that her husband from his arm-chair should see her to the best advantage, and the disfigurement of that slight rash should be inflicted upon the guest rather than upon himself. It struck Meriel as a pretty, almost a touching action, and she watched eagerly to discover if it were possible that the miracle of love had united this husband and wife.

First for the husband--his conversation was addressed as in duty bound mainly to his guest, but ever and anon his eyes returned to his wife, and dwelt upon her, fascinated, absorbed, as though of all the treasures which the room contained she was in his sight the most priceless of all.

Then for the wife--a slight but very perceptible change had come over Claudia's manner since the moment of his entrance. Her affectation of candour disappeared, an air of caution and reserve enveloped her like a mist. She gave the altogether new impression of considering her words, of shaping them continually to please the ears of her audience. Yet she had shown her old outspokenness during the first few minutes of the interview, had for instance had no hesitation in condemning the ugliness of Mend's hat. Obviously then it was her husband whom she was considering, not her guest. Once more Meriel commended the att.i.tude; once more hope raised her head. She addressed herself to her host in quite a cordial and friendly manner.

"I have been telling Claudia that she has eclipsed all her former records! She is looking younger, and more brilliant than I have ever seen her."

John Biggs looked at his wife, and his eyes gleamed. What did that gleam mean? Did it mean love, the love which a man might naturally be supposed to cherish for a wife so young and lovely?

It was Meriel's nature to believe in her fellow creatures, and she told herself that of course it meant love. What else could it be? It was imagination only which had read into that glance something cold and cruel, a triumph of possession more malignant than tender. When Claudia rose to escort her friend to her room, there came the first note of discord, for her husband rose too, and as she would have pa.s.sed by stretched out one great hand to detain her, while with the other he held her chin, turning her face so that the pink rash was deliberately exposed to his gaze. A moment before it had been hardly noticeable, but at that touch the pink flush faded from Claudia's cheek, leaving her so pallid that the disfigurement was increased by contrast.

"Still there, I notice!" he said shortly, and then with a certain brutality of emphasis: "Get rid of that!" he cried deeply. "Get rid of it. _And quickly_. Do you hear?"

"Yes, John," Claudia said, and there was a breathless catch in her voice, as though his words filled her with fear.

Meriel marvelled still more!

Later on that evening, Meriel repaired to her friend's room to indulge in one of those hair-brus.h.i.+ng _tete-a-tetes_ dear to the feminine soul.

"Well, Claudia," she began, a touch of something approaching envy sounding in her voice, "you at least have gained what you wished for!

You plumped for money, and you have more than you can spend. Do you find the experience as satisfactory as you expected?"

Claudia smiled, and leaned back luxuriously against her cus.h.i.+ons.

"Oh, _quite_!" she cried emphatically. "After two years' experience, I am still of the opinion that it is the only thing that matters. It's wonderful what money can do, Meriel; it's magical! Good people talk of greater gifts that you may get if you are good and self-denying, and have a dull time, but they are all in the clouds, and money is so delightfully, so tangibly real!" She glanced round the beautiful room, then down to the little ringed hand stretched out to the fire; she moved her fingers to and fro, so that the flames might wake the sparkle of gems, and heaved a sigh of luxurious content. "I used to long for things that I could not have; now I never need to long, for they are mine as soon as I think of them! How can one help being happy, when one has everything one wants?"

"There are some things that money cannot buy." Once more Meriel could not resist echoing the truism of centuries, but Claudia shook her head with laughing contradiction.

"Rubbis.h.!.+ Don't you believe it! Anyway, money can buy such good imitations that you can't tell them from real! It can do more than that. It--" She paused, with a sudden intake of breath, and her voice sank to a deeper note: "_It can cover things up_!"

Meriel's eyes shot a curious glance. Through the evening she had studied the husband and wife with a puzzled scrutiny, and now, at the end of it, she felt as far as ever from solving the mystery which she sensed as lying beneath the surface. Claudia's manner to her husband was gay and charming, but in the midst of her lightest badinage the friend of her youth had discerned an effort, a strain, an almost painful endeavour to win his approval.

And he? Nothing could be more marked than the man's care for his beautiful wife. Why was it that through all his elaborate attentions there lurked a cold, a sinister effect?

"But what can you have that you wish to cover, Claudia?" Meriel inquired. "By your own confession, you have only to wish and it is yours, and you have a devoted husband who looks after you as if you were the most fragile of hothouse flowers. It's absurd, you know, for you were always as strong as a horse! That transparent look of yours is a delusion; but how upset he seemed, poor man, because your cheek was just a little inflamed to-night."

Claudia straightened herself; an involuntary s.h.i.+ver shook her slight form. Her voice had a nervous ring:

"It's nothing--it's nothing!" she cried. "Just spring, and these horrid east winds. But it won't go! I've tried a dozen things; and he hates it--he hates any fuss or illness! I must never be ill, or have anything that spoils. There's this ball coming on next week, and I am to be the Ice Queen. I _must_ get my face better before then! I've got the most wonderful dress. He planned it for me. He is determined there shall be nothing to touch it in the room. Goodness knows the amount he has spent upon it! I simply daren't look anything but my best!"

"My dear Claudia!" Meriel's voice was full of protest. "What nonsense you talk! You are very beautiful, my dear, but you can't expect an eternal perfection! You must have your ups and downs like other people, and grow old in your turn, and lose your hair and complexion, and grow withered and toothless!"

Claudia leaped to her feet with a gesture which was almost fierce in its intensity.

"Be quiet!" she cried. "Be quiet! Don't dare to speak of it. I'm young still; not twenty-seven. I've ages and ages ahead before I need think of growing old. And women don't lose their beauty nowadays. They know how to keep it. They _have_ to keep it! And I--I more than anyone!"

She crossed the room to her dressing-table, and, switching on an extra electric light, bent low to examine her face in the gla.s.s.

"It's only a slight rash, Meriel; _but it won't go_! I--I don't know what to do about it. I'm worried to death. Do help me. Do advise. Do tell me what to do."

It was the first time that Claudia's friend had ever heard her appeal for help, and there was a thrill in her voice which could not be denied.

"My dear girl," she said quickly, "I'm no good at cosmetics. My complexion has to take its chance, and n.o.body cares whether it's good or bad. But if you are specially anxious to look your best at this ball, why waste time in experiments? A few guineas more or less is nothing to you. Go to-morrow to consult the first skin specialist in London."

Claudia looked at her, a long, thoughtful look. She began to speak and checked herself, subduing as it were a bidden fear. Then she nodded slowly, once and again.

"I will!" she said firmly. "I will. It's folly putting it off. I'll telephone at once, and make an appointment."

The examination was over. A longer and more exhaustive examination than seemed necessary for so slight a cause. The specialist stood hesitating, his face puckered in thought.

Claudia smiled at him with her most dazzling smile.

"You think you can make me quite better for the ball?"

He looked at her swiftly, and as swiftly looked away.