Название | Lady Rose's Daughter |
---|---|
Автор произведения | Mrs. Humphry Ward |
Жанр | Языкознание |
Серия | |
Издательство | Языкознание |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 4057664615756 |
Delafield made a restless movement. "Why do you say that?"
"Well, to say the least of it, frankness is not one of her characteristics. I tried to question her about this man. I had seen them together in the Park, talking as intimates. So, when our conversation had reached a friendly stage, I threw out a feeler or two, just to satisfy myself about her. But--"
He pulled his fair mustaches and smiled.
"Well?" said the young man, with a kind of reluctant interrogation.
"She played with me, Jacob. But really she overdid it. For such a clever woman, I assure you, she overdid it!"
"I don't see why she shouldn't keep her friendships to herself," said Delafield, with sudden heat.
"Oh, so you admit it is a friendship?"
Delafield did not reply. He had laid down his cigar, and with his hands on his knees was looking steadily into the fire. His attitude, however, was not one of reverie, but rather of a strained listening.
"What is the meaning, Jacob, of a young woman taking so keen an interest in the fortunes of a dashing soldier--for, between you and me, I hear she is moving heaven and earth to get him this post--and then concealing it?"
"Why should she want her kindnesses talked of?" said the young man, impetuously. "She was perfectly right, I think, to fence with your questions, Sir Wilfrid. It's one of the secrets of her influence that she can render a service--and keep it dark."
Sir Wilfrid shook his head.
"She overdid it," he repeated. "However, what do you think of the man yourself, Jacob?"
"Well, I don't take to him," said the other, unwillingly. "He isn't my sort of man."
"And Mademoiselle Julie--you think nothing but well of her? I don't like discussing a lady; but, you see, with Lady Henry to manage, one must feel the ground as one can."
Sir Wilfrid looked at his companion, and then stretched his legs a little farther towards the fire. The lamp-light shone full on his silky eyelashes and beard, on his neatly parted hair, and the diamond on his fine left hand. The young man beside him could not emulate his easy composure. He fidgeted nervously as he replied, with warmth:
"I think she has had an uncommonly hard time, that she wants nothing but what is reasonable, and that if she threw you off the scent, Sir Wilfrid, with regard to Warkworth, she was quite within her rights. You probably deserved it."
He threw up his head with a quick gesture of challenge. Sir Wilfrid shrugged his shoulders.
"I vow I didn't," he murmured. "However, that's all right. What do you do with yourself down in Essex, Jacob?"
The lines of the young man's attitude showed a sudden unconscious relief from tension. He threw himself back in his chair.
"Well, it's a big estate. There's plenty to do."
"You live by yourself?"
"Yes. There's an agent's house--a small one--in one of the villages."
"How do you amuse yourself? Plenty of shooting, I suppose?"
"Too much. I can't do with more than a certain amount."
"Golfing?"
"Oh yes," said the young man, indifferently. "There's a fair links."
"Do you do any philanthropy, Jacob?"
"I like 'bossing' the village," said Delafield, with a laugh. "It pleases one's vanity. That's about all there is to it."
"What, clubs and temperance, that kind of thing? Can you take any real interest in the people?"
Delafield hesitated.
"Well, yes," he said, at last, as though he grudged the admission. "There's nothing else to take an interest in, is there? By-the-way"--he jumped up--"I think I'll bid you good-night, for I've got to go down to-morrow in a hurry. I must be off by the first train in the morning."
"What's the matter?"
"Oh, it's only a wretched old man--that two beasts of women have put into the workhouse infirmary against his will. I only heard it to-night. I must go and get him out."
He looked round for his gloves and stick.
"Why shouldn't he be there?"
"Because it's an infernal shame!" said the other, shortly. "He's an old laborer who'd saved quite a lot of money. He kept it in his cottage, and the other day it was all stolen by a tramp. He has lived with these two women--his sister-in-law and her daughter--for years and years. As long as he had money to leave, nothing was too good for him. The shock half killed him, and now that he's a pauper these two harpies will have nothing to say to nursing him and looking after him. He told me the other day he thought they'd force him into the infirmary. I didn't believe it. But while I've been away they've gone and done it."
"Well, what'll you do now?"
"Get him out."
"And then?"
Delafield hesitated. "Well, then, I suppose, he can come to my place till I can find some decent woman to put him with."
Sir Wilfrid rose.
"I think I'll run down and see you some day. Will there be paupers in all the bedrooms?"
Delafield grinned.
"You'll find a rattling good cook and a jolly snug little place, I can tell you. Do come. But I shall see you again soon. I must be up next week, and very likely I shall be at Lady Henry's on Wednesday."
"All right. I shall see her on Sunday, so I can report."
"Not before Sunday?" Delafield paused. His clear blue eyes looked down, dissatisfied, upon Sir Wilfrid.
"Impossible before. I have all sorts of official people to see to-morrow and Saturday. And, Jacob, keep the Duchess quiet. She may have to give up Mademoiselle Julie for her bazaar."
"I'll tell her."
"By-the-way, is that little person happy?" said Sir Wilfrid, as he opened the door to his departing guest. "When I left England she was only just married."
"Oh yes, she's happy enough, though Crowborough's rather an ass."
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