The Testing of Diana Mallory, Mrs. Humphry Ward [e book reader online TXT] 📗

I don't know anything about him."

"Ah!" said Mr. Birch, smiling, and peeling an apple with deliberation.

Fanny flushed.

"Is there anything up--between him and Diana?" she said in his ear.

Mr. Birch smiled again.

"I saw old Mr. Vavasour the other day--clients of ours, you understand. A close-fisted old boy, Miss Merton. They imagined they'd get a good deal out of your cousin. But not a bit of it. Oliver Marsham does all her business for her. The Vavasours don't like it, I can tell you."

"I haven't seen either him or Lady Lucy--is that her name?--since I came."

"Let me see. You came about a fortnight ago--just when Parliament reassembled. Mr. Marsham is our member. He and Lady Lucy went up to town the day before Parliament met."

"And what about Miss Drake?"

"Ah!--poor Miss Drake!" Mr. Birch raised a humorous eyebrow. "Those little things will happen, won't they? It was just at Christmas, I understand, that your cousin paid her first visit to Tallyn. A man who was shooting there told me all about it."

"And Miss Drake was there too?"

Mr. Birch nodded.

"And Diana cut her out?" said Fanny, bending toward him eagerly.

Mr. Birch smiled again. Voices were heard in the hall, but before the new guests entered, the young man put up a finger to his lips:

"Don't you quote me, please, Miss Merton. But, I can tell you, your cousin's very high up in the running just now. And Oliver Marsham will have twenty thousand a year some day if he has a penny. Miss Mallory hasn't told you anything--hasn't she? Ha--ha! Still waters, you know--still waters!"

* * * * *

A few minutes later Sir James Chide was seated between Diana and Fanny Merton, Mr. Birch having obligingly vacated his seat and passed to the other side of the table, where his attempts at conversation were coldly received by Miss Drake. That young lady dazzled the eyes of Fanny, who sat opposite to her. The closely fitting habit and black riding-hat gave to her fine figure and silky wealth of hair the maximum of effect. Fanny perfectly understood that only money and fashion could attain to Miss Drake's costly simplicity. She envied her from the bottom of her heart; she would have given worlds to see the dress in which she had figured at the ball. Miss Drake, no doubt, went to two or three balls a week, and could spend anything she liked upon her clothes.

Yet Diana had cut her out--Diana was to carry off the prize! Twenty thousand a year! Fanny's mind was in a ferment--the mind of a raw and envious provincial, trained to small ambitions and hungry desires. Half an hour before, she had been writing a letter home, in a whirl of delight and self-glorification. The money Diana had promised would set the whole family on its legs, and Fanny had stipulated that after the debts were paid she was to have a clear, cool hundred for her own pocket, and no nonsense about it. It was she who had done it all, and if it hadn't been for her, they might all have gone to the workhouse. But now her success was to her as dross. The thought of Diana's future wealth and glory produced in her a feeling which was an acute physical distress. So Diana was to be married!--and to the great _parti_ of the neighborhood! Fanny already saw her in the bridal white, surrounded by glittering bridesmaids; and a churchful of titled people, bowing before her as she passed in state, like poppies under a breeze.

And Diana had never said a word to her about it--to her own cousin! Nasty, close, mean ways! Fanny was not good enough for Tallyn--oh no! _She_ was asked to Beechcote when there was nothing going on--or next to nothing--and one might yawn one's self to sleep with dulness from morning till night. But as soon as she was safely packed off, then there would be fine times, no doubt; the engagement would be announced; the presents would begin to come in; the bridesmaids would be chosen. But she would get nothing out of it--not she; she would not be asked to be bridesmaid. She was not genteel enough for Diana.

Diana--_Diana_!--the daughter--

Fanny's whole nature gathered itself as though for a spring upon some prey, at once tempting and exasperating. In one short fortnight the inbred and fated antagonism between the two natures had developed itself--on Fanny's side--to the point of hatred. In the depths of her being she knew that Diana had yearned to love her, and had not been able. That failure was not her crime, but Diana's.

Fanny looked haughtily round the table. How many of them knew what she knew? Suddenly a name recurred to her!--the name announced by the butler and repeated by Mr. Birch. At the moment she had been thinking of other things; it had roused no sleeping associations. But now the obscure under-self sent it echoing through the brain. Fanny caught her breath. The sudden excitement made her head swim.--She turned and looked at the white-haired elderly man sitting between her and Diana.

Sir James Chide!

Memories of the common gossip in her home, of the talk of the people on the steamer, of pages in that volume of _Famous Trials_ she had studied on the voyage with such a close and unsavory curiosity danced through the girl's consciousness. Well, _he_ knew! No good pretending there. And he came to see Diana--and still Diana knew nothing! Mrs. Colwood must simply be telling lies--silly lies! Fanny glanced at her with contempt.

Yet so bewildered was she that when Sir James addressed her, she stared at him in what seemed a fit of shyness. And when she began to talk it was at random, for her mind was in a tumult. But Sir James soon divined her. Vulgarity, conceit, ill-breeding--the great lawyer detected them in five minutes' conversation. Nor were they unexpected; for he was well acquainted with Miss Fanny's origins. Yet the perception of them made the situation still more painfully interesting to him, and no less mysterious than before. For he saw no substantial change in it; and he was, in truth, no less perplexed than Fanny. If certain things had happened in consequence of Miss Merton's advent, neither he nor any other guest would be sitting at Diana Mallory's table that day; of that he was morally certain. Therefore, they had not happened.

He returned with a redoubled tenderness of feeling to his conversation with Diana. He had come to Overton for the Sunday, at great professional inconvenience, for nothing in the world but that he must pay this visit to Beechcote; and he had approached the house with dread--dread lest he should find a face stricken with the truth. That dread was momentarily lifted, for in those beautiful dark eyes of Diana innocence and ignorance were still written; but none the less he trembled for her; he saw her as he had seen her at Tallyn, a creature doomed, and consecrate to pain. Why, in the name of justice and pity, had her father done this thing? So it is that a man's love, for lack of a little simple courage and common-sense, turns to cruelty.

Poor, poor child!--At first sight he, like the Roughsedges, had thought her pale and depressed. Then he had given his message. "Marsham has arrived!--turned up at Overton a couple of hours ago--and told us to say he would follow us here after luncheon. He wired to Lady Felton this morning to ask if she would take him in for the Sunday. Some big political meeting he had for to-night is off. Lady Lucy stays in town--and Tallyn is shut up. But Lady Felton was, of course, delighted to get him. He arrived about noon. Civility to his hostess kept him to luncheon--then he pursues us!"

Since then!--no lack of sparkle in the eyes or color in the cheek! Yet even so, to Sir James's keen sense, there was an increase, a sharpening, in Diana's personality, of the wistful, appealing note, which had been always touching, always perceptible, even through the radiant days of her Tallyn visit.

Ah, well!--like Dr. Roughsedge, only with a far deeper urgency, he, too, for want of any better plan, invoked the coming lover. In God's name, let Marsham take the thing into his own hands!--stand on his own feet!--dissipate a nightmare which ought never to have arisen--and gather the girl to his heart.

* * * * *

Meanwhile Fanny's attention--and the surging anger of her thoughts--were more and more directed upon the girl with the fair hair opposite. A natural bond of sympathy seemed somehow to have arisen between her and this Miss Drake--Diana's victim. Alicia Drake, looking up, was astonished, time after time, to find herself stared at by the common-looking young woman across the table, who was, she understood, Miss Mallory's cousin. What dress, and what manners! One did not often meet that kind of person in society. She wished Oliver joy of his future relations.

* * * * *

In the old panelled drawing-room the coffee was circulating. Sir James was making friends with Mrs. Colwood, whose gentle looks and widow's dress appealed to him. Fanny, Miss Drake, and Mr. Birch made a group by the fireplace; Mr. Birch was posing as an authority on the drama; Fanny, her dark eyes fixed upon Alicia, was not paying much attention; and Alicia, with ill-concealed impatience, was yawning behind her glove. Hugh Roughsedge was examining the Donatello photograph.

"Do you like it?" said Diana, standing beside him. She was conscious of having rather neglected him at lunch, and there was a dancing something in her own heart which impelled her to kindness and compunction. Was not the good, inarticulate youth, too, going out into the wilds, his life in his hands, in the typical English way? The soft look in her eyes which expressed this mingled feeling did not mislead the recipient. He had overheard Sir James Glide's message; he understood her.

Presently, Mrs. Roughsedge, seeing that it was a sunny day and the garden looked tempting, asked to be allowed to inspect a new greenhouse that Diana was putting up. The door leading out of the drawing-room to the moat and the formal garden was thrown open; cloaks and hats were brought, and the guests streamed out.

"You are not coming?" said Hugh Roughsedge to Diana.

At this question he saw a delicate flush, beyond her control, creep over her cheek and throat.

"I--I am expecting Mr. Marsham," she said. "Perhaps I ought to stay."

Sir James Chide looked at his watch.

"He should be here any minute. We will overtake you, Captain Roughsedge."

Hugh went off beside Mrs. Colwood. Well, well, it was all plain enough! It was only a fortnight since the Marshams had gone up to town for the Parliamentary season. And here he was, again upon the scene. Impossible, evidently, to separate them longer. Let them only get engaged, and be done with it! He stalked on beside Mrs. Colwood, tongue-tied