The Daughter Pays Part 19

Tom bore no malice. He gave and received the kiss of amity, and they went into the dining-room, where a huge dish of boiled beef, flanked with carrots, turnips, and suet dumplings steamed upon the board.

A nurse brought down Bill, and seated him on his high chair. Then Ferris, having begun to carve with celerity, could keep his news no longer to himself.

"Jo," he said, "it's true--true, after all."

"Eh, what?" said Joey, busy preparing Bill's dinner in a plate with a special high edge.

"I wouldn't believe it--actually betted against it," continued her husband, chuckling, "but it's gospel truth. Old Gaunt's gone and got married."

"Go on! Pulling my leg!" observed Joey, with equal elegance and good humour.

"My girl, I've seen 'em--actually seen 'em together. Came up just as he was at his drive gate--telling Caunter something. She was sitting in the trap beside him, and--Jee-rusalem, she's a peach, if you like!"

"Percy, you are the limit. Remember the boys."

"Lucky little beggars, they aren't old enough to suffer like their daddy. I tell you I've never seen anything quite like her. She looks as if a breath would blow her away--like what the serials call a vision from another world. And old Gaunt sitting there beside her, looking as if he would like to lay forcible hands on my windpipe. Old Gaunt. Help!"

"Well, I never," said Joey, deeply impressed. "It may be a bit of all right for us, if she's a decent sort. Nearest neighbours, aren't we?"

"My dear, there's nothing else within miles of her. I believe the Chase is next nearest. By the bye, think I'll ride over there this afternoon and tell her ladys.h.i.+p the news. Come with me, old girl?"

"I believe I will," said Joey. "Let's see, what's the first day it will be decent to call at Omberleigh?"

"Not till further orders," laughed her husband. "Mrs. G. will send out cards when she is ready to receive. Poor little soul. I thought she looked as if she hoped somebody would throw her a rope before long. Old Gaunt. My hat!"

"You call him old," observed Joey after a pause, during which she took out her handkerchief and thoughtfully scrubbed Tom's nose, "but he's only five or six years older than you."

"And looks twenty years older."

"That's only because he doesn't care what he looks like. Perhaps she'll furbish him up."

"Just fancy," burst out her husband. "That sweet little creature up there in his clutches. It makes one shudder. I wonder if he talks to her about manure? What should you suppose he _does_ talk about, eh?"

"You can search me," responded Mrs. Ferris tranquilly. She never spoke English where slang could conveniently be subst.i.tuted. "It's one of these money transactions--like ours," she presently remarked. "She gets Gaunt and you got me. You are both of you adventurers."

"They were saying, down at the market Hall, that she was a daughter of Bernard Mynors, of Lissendean, somewhere in Dorsets.h.i.+re. Didn't your father know something of the family?"

"He knew a General Mynors. Yes, he had a brother named Bernard, and their place was in Dorset. Came out of the top drawer, she did, if she's one of that lot. But stony, you know--simply stony. I wonder where he picked her up?"

"You can search me," retorted Percy at once, and they both giggled.

"All I can tell you about her is that she is It."

The bride appeared at lunch, pale but valiant. Gaunt was standing in the hall as she descended the stairs, and noticed that she leaned her hand upon the rail, and moved as if she were stiff. He decided that there was no doubt that this was a mere piece of humbug. She wished to impress him with an idea of helplessness, under cover of which she was forming some plan of campaign.

She forced herself to eat a little, because he was watching her under his lowered lids. When she had done, and Hemming had left the room, he rose, came to her end of the table, produced from his pocket a handful of gem rings, and tossed them on the table-cloth. "Choose what you like," he said carelessly.

The colour sprang hot to her face. With a dignified gesture she pushed away the jewels and rose to her feet.

"After what you said yesterday, you cannot expect me to take presents from you," said she, making as if to pa.s.s from the room.

"Ha!" he stood before her, the light of combat in his eyes. "You decline to take presents from me--good! But you can't decline to do as I order you. I order you to wear two of those rings, one on your left hand and the other on your right. Choose quickly, or I will put them on your finger myself."

She stood, and he could see how hard she found it to fight back words.

In fact, she could not but realise that it would be madness to arouse the resentment of the extraordinary being whose motives she was quite unable to fathom; yet she made one effort to brave him.

"I will not choose--I have no choice," said she, not glancing at the rings, but with her eyes on his face.

He turned, scooped up the rings in one hand, laid the other on her arm just above the elbow, and said:

"Come, I will help you to make a selection. There is a little room at the west corner of the house which I think you may like to consider yours. Let me show you."

She went with him unprotesting, and tried to control the shuddering which his grip upon her arm caused her to experience.

The room which they entered was evidently his own study. It was full of books and papers, untidy and dingy looking, like the haunts of most men where the housemaid is forbidden. Through this he pa.s.sed by an inner door to a smaller room, with two windows--one south, one west.

It was scantily furnished, but might have been pretty if artistically arranged. She glanced round. There _was_ a second door. A room which she could neither enter nor leave without pa.s.sing through his would be a poor boon. He pushed her down upon a sofa, seated himself beside her, and laid the little pile of rings upon her knee. Without speaking, he took her left hand in his own, and began fitting the rings one after another. All were too large, except a fine half-hoop of emeralds.

"That for the present," said he, "and we can have some others altered.

Which do you like next best?"

"I do not like to wear any of them," she answered faintly. His shoulder was touching her own, and her terror grew with each moment.

"You are obstinate," he said, with a scowl.

She shook her head. "It is not a question of what I like, so why pretend that it is? I will do anything that you say I must," she murmured, so low that he could hardly hear.

"Well, then, I say you must choose another ring." She turned them over listlessly. "This," said she at last, taking a single diamond.

"Good!" He gathered up the rest. Then, to her utter relief, he rose. "I will make it into a packet for the post," said he.

"Oh! That reminds me!" She was suddenly eager. "Please tell me, have you a second post here?"

"Yes. It will be in soon--about an hour's time."

"Oh, I am glad!" A glow irradiated her wistful face. "Pansy promised to write; I thought she could not have forgotten." There was a break in her voice as she mentioned her little sister. "When does the post go out?" she went on.

"Very inconveniently, the man who brings the bag also takes it back, so that if you are going to write, you must have your letter ready before you receive the one you expect. Will you like to write it now? You will find things on the table."

He turned, went back into his own room, and closed the communicating door.

Left alone, her first act was to steal across the floor to the other exit, and turn the handle. It was locked, and the key had been taken out.

The knowledge that she was actually a prisoner came to her with a shock of horror. What would happen to her, what was she to expect in this house of mysterious terror? She dare not give way, however. No matter what she suffered, Pansy must know nothing of it--Tony must know nothing. She must write a letter which should rea.s.sure them; and, if once she yielded to the creeping, nameless horror which a.s.sailed her, this would be impossible.

Rallying her courage, she fought the sobs which rose in her throat, and sat down to the writing-table.