The Chauffeur and the Chaperon Part 54

"He congratulated Robert as sweetly as possible; but Robert said his face changed when he heard the news. I didn't dare to look up when the Jonkheer came and made me nice wishes, for fear he might be looking sad; and there _was_ a heavy sound in his voice, I thought. Oh dear, life's very complicated, isn't it?"

"Yes," I admitted. "Even in Holland."

Perhaps these women are right. Perhaps Alb's heart has been caught in the rebound; but, lest it hasn't, and he undertakes to cut me out with Nell, it is necessary that I lose no time in using my best wiles with her.

While Phyllis was hanging in the balance, she was as desirable as a rosy apple just out of reach; but now that she is smugly satisfied to be in the hands of another her ethereal charm is fled.

"I must congratulate van Buren," I said, "or he will believe I'm jealous."

So I shook hands with the Viking, having blessed the pair, and was in the act of annexing Nell when the alleged Lady MacNairne found it convenient to give me Freule Menela's message.

"You wanted to hear it, didn't you?" she asked, when Nell had drifted away to the twins, whose society, though not enlivening, she apparently preferred to poor Alb's.

"I've waited so long, that I could have waited a little longer," I said, following the copper-gold head with wistful eyes.

"This is your grat.i.tude!" exclaimed the L.C.P. "You don't seem to realize that I've saved you."

I looked at her, only to be baffled as usual by the blue barrier of gla.s.s.

"You don't deserve all the trouble I've taken," she went on. "Or that I should tell you anything about it. Come, Tibe, let's go below. Darling doggie, you've spoiled me for everybody else. _You_ are always appreciative. n.o.body else is."

"You think that, because he happens to have a tail to wag, and others haven't," said I. "I consider myself as good as Tibe, any day, though handicapped in some ways. I'll soon show you that I'm not ungrateful, when you've let me know exactly what cause I have for grat.i.tude. Have you murdered the late fiancee, and thrown her out of your hotel window into the ca.n.a.l?"

"I've got rid of her just as effectively," returned the L.C.P. "I went and talked to her in her room last night, when she was undressing. Ugh!

but she was plain in her wrapper. It was a pink flannellet one. Imagine it, with her skin."

"I'd rather not," said I.

"If it weren't for me, probably you'd often have had to see her in it.

Well, I made an excuse that she'd looked tired, and complained of the noise under her windows preventing her sleeping. I offered her some trional, and then--I just lingered. She thought it wise to be nice to--_your_ aunt, and I turned the conversation to you. She said you were charming. I said you would be, if you hadn't such a terrible temper. I said you were almost mad with it sometimes, when you were a little boy.

Yes, I did, really--you ought to thank me. I dare say you _were_ a horrid little boy. But she didn't seem to mind that much. She told me that she got along splendidly with bad-tempered people: they were always nice to her. That discouraged me a tiny bit, but I hadn't played any really high trumps yet. I went on to say you were very delicate, but she seemed quite pleased at that, although, if she only knew it, she'd be _hideous_ in black. She said she thought delicate men were the most interesting, so that drove me to desperation, and after I'd praised you a little, just enough to be realistic for an aunt, I said what a shame it was about that will of your father's. She p.r.i.c.ked up her ears then, and wanted to know what I meant. 'Hasn't he _told_ you?' I asked. And I was shocked to hear you hadn't, because, I said, it would be more honest to let people know how one stood, the position being so peculiar. Your father had left every _red cent_ away from you, I said, in case you married a foreigner; and it was such a blow that she didn't even notice that I'd committed an Americanism. She couldn't speak for a whole minute, and then she asked if you hadn't tried to dispute the will. That would have been no use, said I. It wasn't the kind you could dispute.

You often fell in love with girls, not Americans, but you were bound to marry a compatriot in the end, unless you could find a foreigner with enough money to support you. Even after all that she held on to you by the ragged edge. Couldn't you make a lot of money, she asked, with your pictures, which are so famous? They weren't _popular_, I said, and though the critics always praise them, you could hardly ever sell.

'Besides,' said I, 'he's so lazy, he doesn't paint a decent-sized picture once in three years.'"

"Good heavens!" I exclaimed. "What a character you gave me. It's a wonder she didn't rush to Robert van Buren's door, and cry to him that she'd reconsidered."

"I saved him, too, for Phyllis's sake. It was too late for her to go to him at that hour, or even send a note, as I saw by her eye she thought of doing. I stayed with her till after twelve, on purpose. And the last thing I said was, that I thought her decision not to accept Mr. van Buren so wise, as such an intelligent woman as she might marry any one.

It showed, said I, how undeserving he was, that the minute she took herself from him, he asked another girl to be his wife. 'Has he?' she almost screamed. 'Yes,' said I. 'Didn't you know? He is now engaged to Miss Rivers, with the approval of his sisters, and a telegram has been sent to his mother, telling her _all_.'"

This was news worth hearing, and I forgave the L.C.P. the inopportuneness of her interruption with Nell.

"Who told you about van Buren's engagement to Phyllis?" I asked.

"No one. But I thought they ought to be engaged, if they weren't, and knew they never would be if Menela weren't got rid of.

"But about the telegram to Mrs. van Buren----"

"The minute I went to my room, I sent for a waiter, and wrote one, without signing it. I hoped she'd think it came from her son, and that, in his excitement, he'd forgotten to put his name."

"She'll be furious," said I. "Freule Menela told me--and probably it's true--that her future mother-in-law had done everything she could to bring about the match."

"Perhaps. But she's tremendously proud of Robert, so the twins say. Once she knows that Menela deliberately threw him over, she'd never want him to have anything to do with the girl again. And Phyllis Rivers isn't penniless, you know. You've paid a generous half of the expenses of this trip, for which, it seems, some money she'd had left to her was to be used. She's kept most of that; and she has about a hundred and fifty pounds sterling a year besides. She'll have enough for pocket-money, when she and Robert are married; and she comes of very good people: her great-great-grandfather was a viscount, or baron, or something. That will appeal to old lady van Buren, when she finds it out."

"And if Nell should happen to marry a rich man, he would be charmed to do something for the sweet little stepsister," I added.

The L.C.P. turned on me shrewdly. "You seem to be very sure of that. I suppose you judge him by _yourself_. You think Nell's husband may be a rich _American_?"

"I hope so," said I. "And a generous one. But talking of generosity--I promised to prove to you that I am no less grateful than Tibe, though I may not have as effective ways of showing it. Strange little stage-aunt of mine, I _do_ thank you for saving me. I _do_ realize that, if it weren't for you, Freule van der Windt at all events, would have secured a rich American husband, no matter what Miss Van Buren's luck may be. I do realize that, but for your fibs and fancies, I should have been a lost man, for certainly I should not have been equal to saving myself from that woman. By this one night's work alone, if by nothing else, you've more than earned your aunt-salary and extras. That ring you helped me choose last night----"

"Don't go on," she cut me short. "Didn't I tell you the other day when you were offering me a bribe, that I didn't want anything, and wouldn't have it--not a diamond ring, a pearl ring--nor even a ruby ring. I know you think me a mercenary little wretch, and that you've put up with me all this time only because you couldn't do without me; while as for you, of course you're only an _episode_ in my life. Still, I'd like you to understand that I haven't done this thing for what I could get out of it. I've done it--for you. Please remember that, when you're counting up how much I've cost you on this trip. Count what I've saved you, too."

"By Jove, I'm not likely to forget _that_!" said I. "If the thing had ended by _my_ being the fiance--it doesn't bear dwelling on. But I want you to have the ring. I saw, all yesterday afternoon and evening, what you were up to on my behalf, and I bought the ring on purpose to give to you, if you pulled me through, as I half thought you would."

"It was born and bred for an engagement ring," she said. "Give it to--the girl you're going to marry."

"I haven't asked her yet."

"You mean to, I suppose."

"I suppose so. But she may not accept me. Do you think she will?"

"If I have an opinion, I'm not going to tell you. Only--keep your ring."

So I had to keep it. And all day, while again we pa.s.sed flowery Boskoop (not so flowery now) quaint Gouda, and the other little towns which carried me back in mind to the beginning of our trip, I wondered and puzzled over the change in that lady of mystery, the L.C.P.

x.x.xIII

We slept in Rotterdam, at the old hotel in the park where the Angels were staying when first they came into my life.

The next day was a memorable one in van Buren annals, for the new fiancee was to be received as such, into the bosom of the family.

Robert and the twins had left us on our arrival in Rotterdam, for the town house is still closed for the summer, and the "residence" is at Scheveningen. It was for the brother and sisters to pave the way for Phyllis, and solve (if they could) the mystery which must have wrapped the unsigned telegram announcing the engagement.

In the morning, before any of us had had breakfast, back came Robert in one of Brederode's cast-off automobiles (Alb seems to shed motor-cars and motor-boats along the path of life, as most people shed old shoes) bringing a note from Madame at the Villa van Buren.

What it said I shall probably never know, but Robert's too handsome face was a shade less tranquil than usual, and I guessed that, as Nell would say, he had had to be very Frisian before he succeeded in persuading his still more Frisian mother that Phyllis Rivers is a desirable subst.i.tute for Freule Menela van der Windt.

In any case, he had persuaded her--he wouldn't be the Viking that he is, if he hadn't; and though by the shadow round his calm gray eyes, it had probably taken half, or all of the night, the note he produced must have been satisfactory, for Phyllis brightened as she read it.

Soon after, the visit to Scheveningen was arranged; but Robert had, no doubt, prepared the girls for the necessity of making it, for Nell and Phyllis both came down to breakfast in their prettiest dresses, looking irresistible. And an hour later, with motor-veils over their hats, they went off with Robert in the automobile.

They were to spend the day, for people in the Hollow Land enjoy their pleasures as much by quant.i.ty as quality, especially their friends'

society; and I could only hope that a certain wistfulness of expression, as she looked back from the _tonneau_ of the red car, meant that Nell would rather have remained with some of those who were left behind.

If she had stayed in Rotterdam, and relied upon me for entertainment, I should certainly have proposed to her. As it was, I pa.s.sed the day somewhat gloomily, reflecting on the time I had wasted, while I had her by my side. Now, I reminded myself, the trip as planned was drawing to a close. There remained the visit to Zeeland--an affair of a few days.