The Duchess of Wrexe Part 34

Then, climbing up from that sinister little valley and seeing that the sky had turned to violet and that the evening star was there burning as she had known that it would, she laughed at her morbidity.

She shook herself free from it, thought once more of the things that she would do with Roddy, thought of London and the fun that she would have there, thought of Christopher and Uncle John and even Aunt Adela; then, as she turned down the little crooked path towards the house, she thought again of her cousin; she would work without ceasing to bring him back into the family.

That, at any rate, was work upon which she might commence on her return to London, and as she clicked the little wicket-gate, a side-entrance to the garden, behind her, she was almost happy again.

The dusk was deepening into darkness, the moon had not yet risen above the hill. She had entered the garden on the further side of the house and pa.s.sed through a long laurel path, her feet silenced by the snow.

Jacob had stayed, some way behind. She could see the white lawn and beyond it the lighted house; she was about to step out of the dark shadow of the laurels when she found, just in front of her, almost touching her, hidden by the black depth of the trees, two figures.

She was upon them with a startled cry. A man had his arms about a woman; bending back a little he had pulled her forward against him and was kissing her so fiercely that her hands were buried deep in his coat to steady herself.

Rachel knew them instantly; they were her husband and Nita Raseley--

She stepped past them on to the lawn and at that instant they were conscious of her--

Then she walked swiftly into the house.

II

She went up to her bedroom. No thought came to her, her mind was blank, but she noticed little things, put some of the silver things on her dressing-table in order, pulled her blind a little lower, moved to the fire and pushed the logs into a blaze. She sat there for a long, long time.

When the dressing-bell echoed through the rooms she was still sitting there, thinking nothing--

Her maid came to her; she told her the dress that she would wear and after a while sat staring into her mirror whilst her hair was brushed.

Lucy said, "The snow's begun again, my lady. Coming down fast----"

Then some absence of light in her mistress's eyes frightened her and she said no more.

Someone knocked on the door: a note for her ladys.h.i.+p. Rachel read it:

"It was all a horrible, _horrible_ mistake. Darling Rachel, you _know_ it was only fun--just nothing at all. Shall I come and explain? If you'd rather not see me just now say so and I shall _quite_ understand. I've been so upset that I think I won't come down to dinner, if it isn't _too_ much bother having just a little sent up to me. It was all _such_ a silly mistake, as you'll see when we've explained.

Your loving

NITA."

When she came to "we" Rachel coloured a little. Then she said, "Lucy, bring me the local railway-guide. In my writing-room."

Lucy brought it to her. Then she wrote:

"DEAR NITA,

No explanations necessary. There is a good train up to town from Hawes at 9.30 to-morrow morning.

Yours,

RACHEL SEDDON."

"I want this taken to Miss Raseley, Lucy--now. She's not very well, so ask Haddon to see that dinner is sent up to her room, please."

Then she finished dressing and went down to Roddy.

III

He had perhaps expected that she would not come down, but there was no opportunity given them for speech because the butler announcing dinner followed her into the library. They went in.

He sat opposite her, looking ashamed, with his eyes lowered, and the red coming and going in his sunburned cheeks.

They talked for the sake of the servants, and she asked him whether Hawes had been as lovely as ever and whether Lady Rockington's nerves were better, and how their youngest boy (delicate from his birth) was now.

Whilst she spoke her brain was turning, turning like a wheel; could she only, for five minutes, think clearly, then might much after disaster be avoided. She knew that in the conversation that was to come Roddy would follow her lead and that it would be she who would be responsible for all consequences.

She knew that and yet she could not force her brain to be clear nor foresee what the end of it all was to be.

The dessert and the wine came at last and she went--

"I'll be in the library, Roddy," she said.

He gave her a quarter of an hour, and in that pause, with the house quite silent all about her and the fire crackling and the lights softly s.h.i.+ning, she strove to discipline her mind.

She had known as soon as she had seen them there that the most awful element in it was that this had in no way altered the earlier case--it merely precipitated a crisis and demanded a definition. Nothing could have proved to her that she had never loved Roddy so much as her own feeling at this crisis towards him. Therein lay her own sin.

It was simply now of the future that she must think. The awful chasm that might divide them after this night, were not their words most carefully ordered, shook her with fear; peril to herself, for she could stand aside and see herself quite clearly: and she knew that if to-night she and he were to say things that they could neither of them afterwards forget, then, for herself, and from her deep need of love and affection, there was temptation awaiting her that no disguise could cover.

Then, as more clearly she figured the scene in the garden, patience seemed difficult to command.

She hated Nita Raseley--that was no matter--but she despised Roddy, and were he once to-night to see that contempt she knew that his after remembrance of it would divide them more completely than anything else could do.

When he came in she had still no clearer idea of what she intended to say, or how she wished things to go. She was sitting in an arm-chair by the fire with her hands s.h.i.+elding her face, and he sat down opposite her and stared at her and cleared his throat and wished that she would take her hands down and then finally plunged:

"Rachel--I don't know--I can't--hang it all, what _can_ I say? I've been a beastly cad and I'd cut my right hand off to have prevented it happening----"

She took her hand down and turned towards him--

"Let's cut all the recrimination part, Roddy," she said. "It was very unfortunate--that was all. It was rather beastly of you, and as for Nita----"

Here he broke in--"No, I say, you mustn't say anythin' about her. She wasn't a little bit to blame--It just----"

"Well, we'll leave Nita. She isn't of any importance, anyway. The point is that things have been wrong for months between us, and as we haven't been married very long that's a pity. This has just brought things to a head, that's all----"

"No," said Roddy firmly. "No, Rachel, that ain't fair to Nita. I know it isn't nice, but I must put that out fair and square--fair and square to Nita.

"We'd had a jolly old drive to Hawes--rippin' day, cold as anythin', with the horse just spankin' along, and then the Rockingtons were jolly and the lunch was jolly and back we came. We looked about the house for you and heard you were still out walkin', so we just strolled about the garden a bit and then--Well, anyway, Nita simply had nothin' to do with it. It was so rippin' and jolly after the drive and all, that I just kissed her. All in a second I just felt I had to ... beastly weak of me," he finally added in a contemplative tone.

"Well, that disposes of Nita," said Rachel. "Don't let's mention her again. Meanwhile what sort of life am I going to have if 'things' are going to sweep over you like this continually? Besides, it's rather early days, isn't it? We haven't been married half a year yet."