by Elinor Glyn
II
It was a year later before Theodora saw her family again. A very severeattack of bronchitis, complicated by internal catarrh, prostrated JosiahBrown in the first days of their marriage, and had turned her into asuperintendent nurse for the next three months; by that time a winter atHyeres was recommended by the best physicians, and off they started.
Hyeres, with a semi-invalid, a hospital nurse, and quantities ofmedicine bottles and draught-protectors, is not the ideal place onereads of in guide-books. Theodora grew to hate the sky and the blueMediterranean. She used to sit on her balcony at Costebelle and gaze atthe olive-trees, and the deep-green velvet patch of firs beyond, towardsthe sea, and wonder at life.
She longed to go to the islands--anywhere beyond--and one day she read_Jean d'Agreve_; and after that she wondered what Love was. It took amighty hold upon her imagination. It seemed to her it must mean Life.
It was the beginning of May before Josiah Brown thought of leaving forParis. England would be their destination, but the doctors assured him amonth of Paris would break the change of climate with more safety thanif they crossed the Channel at once.
Costebelle was a fairyland of roses as they drove to the station, andpeace had descended upon Theodora. She had fallen into her place, aplace occupied by many wives before her with irritable, hypochondriacalhusbands.
She had often been to Paris in her maiden days; she knew it from thepoint of view of a cheap boarding-house and snatched meals. But theunchecked gayety of the air and the _facon_ had not been tarnished bythat. She had played in the Tuilleries Gardens and watched Ponchinelloat the Rond Point, and later been taken once or twice to dine at a cheapcafe in the Bois by papa. And once she had gone to Robinson on a coachwith him and some aristocratic acquaintances of his, and eaten luncheonup the tree, and that was a day of the gods and to be remembered.
But now they were going to an expensive, well-managed private hotel inthe Avenue du Bois, suitable to invalids, and it poured with rain asthey drove from the Gare de Lyon.
"She Wondered What Love Was."]
All this time something in Theodora was developing. Her beautiful facehad an air of dignity. The set of her little Greek head would havedriven a sculptor wild--and Josiah Brown was very generous in moneymatters, and she had always known how to wear her clothes, so it was nowonder people stopped and turned their heads when she passed.
Josiah Brown possessed certainly not less than forty thousand a year,and so felt he could afford a carriage in Paris, and any other fancy hepleased. His nerves had been too shaken by his illness to appreciate thejoys of an automobile.
Thus, daily might be seen in the Avenue des Acacias this ill-assortedpair, seated in a smart victoria with stepping horses, driving slowly upand down. And a number of people took an interest in them.
Towards the middle of May Captain Fitzgerald arrived at the Continental,and Theodora felt her heart beat with joy when she saw his handsome,well-groomed head.
Oh yes, it had been indeed worth while to make papa look so prosperousas that--so prosperous and happy--dear, gay papa!
He was about the same age as her husband, but no one would think oftaking him for more than forty. And what a figure he had! and whatmanners! And when he patted her cheek Theodora felt at once that thrillof pride and gratification she had always experienced when he waspleased with her, from her youngest days.
She was almost glad Sarah and Clementine should have remained at Dieppe.Thus she could have papa all to herself, and oh, what presents she wouldsend them back by him when he returned!
Josiah Brown despised Dominic Fitzgerald, and yet stood in awe of him aswell. A man who could spend a fortune and be content to live on odds andends for the rest of his life must be a poor creature. But, on the otherhand, there was that uncomfortable sense of breeding about him whichonce, when Captain Fitzgerald had risen to a situation of dignity duringtheir preliminary conversations about Theodora's hand, had made JosiahBrown unconsciously say "Sir" to him.
He had blushed and bitten his tongue for doing it, and had blustered andpatronized immoderately afterwards, but he never forgot the incident.They were not birds of a feather, and never would be, though theexquisite manners of Dominic Fitzgerald could carry any situation.
Josiah was not altogether pleased to see his father-in-law. He evenexperienced a little jealousy. Theodora's face, which generally wore amask of gentle, solicitous meekness for him, suddenly sparkled andrippled with laughter, as she pinched her papa's ears, and pulled hismustache, and purred into his neck, with joy at their meeting.
It was that purring sound and those caressing tricks that Josiah Brownobjected to. He had never received any of them himself, and so whyshould Dominic Fitzgerald?
Captain Fitzgerald, for his part, was enchanted to clasp his beautifuldaughter once more in his arms; he had always loved Theodora, and whenhe saw her so quite too desirable-looking in her exquisite clothes, hefelt a very fine fellow himself, thinking what he had done for her.
It was not an unnatural circumstance that he should look upon the ideaof a dinner at the respectable private hotel, with his son-in-law anddaughter, as a trifle dull for Paris, or that he should have suggested ameal at the Ritz would do them both good.
"Come and dine with me instead, my dear child," he said, with his grandair. "Josiah, you must begin to go out a little and shake off yourillness, my dear fellow."
But Josiah was peevish.
Not to-night--certainly not to-night. It was the evening he was to takethe two doses of his new medicine, one half an hour after the other, andhe could not leave the hotel. Then he saw how poor Theodora's face fell,and one of his sparks of consideration for the feelings of others cameto him, and he announced gruffly that his wife might go with her father,if she pleased, provided she crept into her room, which was next door tohis own, without the least noise on her return.
"I must not be disturbed in my first sleep," he said; and Theodorathanked him rapturously.
It was so good of him to let her go--she would, indeed, make not theleast noise, and she danced out of the room to get ready in a way JosiahBrown had never seen her do before. And after she had gone--CaptainFitzgerald came back to fetch her--this fact rankled with him andprevented his sleep for more than twenty minutes.
"My sweet child," said Captain Fitzgerald, when he was seated beside hisdaughter in her brougham, rolling down the Champs-Elysees, "you must notbe so grateful; he won't let you out again if you are."
"Oh, papa!" said Theodora.
They arrived at the Ritz just at the right moment. It was a lovelynight, but rather cold, so there were no diners in the garden, and thecrowd from the restaurant extended even into the hall.
It was an immense satisfaction to Dominic Fitzgerald to walk throughthem all with this singularly beautiful young woman, and to remark theeffect she produced, and his cup of happiness was full when they cameupon a party at the lower end by the door; prominent, as hostess, beingJane Anastasia McBride--the fabulously rich American widow.
In a second of time he reviewed the situation; a faint coldness in hismanner would be the thing to draw--and it was; for when he had greetedMrs. McBride without gush, and presented his daughter with the air ofjust passing on, the widow implored them with great cordiality to leavetheir solitary meal and join her party. Nor would she hear of anyrefusal.
The whole scene was so novel and delightful to Theodora she cared not atall whether her father accepted or no, so long as she might sit quietlyand observe the world.
Mrs. McBride had perceived immediately that the string of pearls roundMrs. Josiah Brown's neck could not have cost less than nine thousandpounds, and that her frock, although so simple, was the last and mostexpensive creation of Callot Soeurs. She had always been horriblyattracted by Captain Fitzgerald, ever since that race week at Trouvilletwo summers ago, and fate had sent them here to-night, and she meant toenjoy herself.
Captain Fitzgerald acceded to her request with his usual polished ease,and the radian
t widow presented the rest of her guests to the twonew-comers.
The tall man with the fierce beard was Prince Worrzoff, married to herniece, Saidie Butcher. Saidie Butcher was short, and had a voice youcould hear across the room. The sleek, fair youth with the twinklinggray eyes was an Englishman from the Embassy. The disagreeable-lookingwoman in the badly made mauve silk was his sister, Lady Hildon. Thestout, hook-nosed bird of prey with the heavy gold chain was a Westernmillionaire, and the smiling girl was his daughter. Then, last of all,came Lord Bracondale--and it was when he was presented that Theodorafirst began to take an interest in the party.
Hector, fourteenth Lord Bracondale of Bracondale (as she later thatnight read in the _Peerage_) was aged thirty-one years. He had beeneducated at Eton and Oxford, served for some time in the FourthLifeguards, been unpaid attache at St. Petersburg, was patron of fivelivings, and sat in the House of Lords as Baron Bracondale; creation,1505; seat, Bracondale Chase. Brothers, none. Sister living, AnneCharlotte, married to the fourth Earl of Anningford.
Theodora read all this over twice, and also even the predecessors andcollateral branches--but that was while she burned the midnight oil andlistened to the snorts and coughs of Josiah Brown, slumbering next door.
For the time being she raised her eyes and looked into LordBracondale's, and something told her they were the nicest eyes she hadever seen in this world.
Then when a voluble French count had rushed up, with garrulous apologiesfor being late, the party was complete, and they swept into therestaurant.
Theodora sat between the Western millionaire and the Russian Prince, butbeyond--it was a round table, only just big enough to hold them--cameher hostess and Lord Bracondale, and two or three times at dinner theyspoke, and very often she felt his eyes fixed upon her.
Mrs. McBride, like all American widows, was an admirable hostess; theconversation never flagged, or the gayety for one moment.
The Western millionaire was shrewd, and announced some quaint truthswhile he picked his teeth with an audible sound.
"This is his first visit to Europe," Princess Worrzoff said afterwardsto Theodora by way of explanation. "He is so colossally rich he don'tneed to worry about such things at his time of life; but it does make meturn to hear him."
Captain Fitzgerald was in his element. No guest shone so brilliantly ashe. His wit was delicate, his sallies were daring, his looks wereinsinuating, and his appearance was perfection.
Theodora had every reason to tingle with pride in him, and the widowfelt her heart beat.
"Isn't he just too bright--your father, Mrs. Brown?" she said as theyleft the restaurant to have their coffee in the hall. "You must let mesee quantities of you while we are all in Paris together. It is a lovelycity; don't you agree with me?"
And Theodora did.
Lord Bracondale was of the same breed as Captain Fitzgerald--that is,they neither of them permitted themselves to be superseded by any otherman with the object of their wishes. When they wanted to talk to a womanthey did, if twenty French counts or Russian princes stood in the way!Thus it was that for the rest of the evening Theodora found herselfseated upon a sofa in close proximity to the man who had interested herat dinner, and Mrs. McBride and Captain Fitzgerald occupied twoarm-chairs equally well placed, while the rest of the party made generalconversation.
Hector Bracondale, among other attractions, had a charming voice; it wasdeep and arresting, and he had a way of looking straight into the eyesof the person he was talking to.
Theodora knew at once he belonged to the tribe whom Sarah had told hercould never be husbands.
She wondered vaguely why, all the time she was talking to him. Why hadhusbands always to be bores and unattractive, and sometimes even simplyrevolting, like hers? Was it because these beautiful creatures could notbe bound to any one woman? It seemed to her unsophisticated mind thatit could be very nice to be married to one of them; but there was no usefighting against fate, and she personally was wedded to Josiah Brown.
Lord Bracondale's conversation pleased her. He seemed to understandexactly what she wanted to talk about; he saw all the things she sawand--he had read _Jean d'Agreve_!--they got to that at the end of thefirst half-hour, and then she froze up a little; some instinct told herit was dangerous ground, so she spoke suddenly of the weather, in abanal voice.
Meanwhile, from the beginning of dinner, Lord Bracondale had been sayingto himself she was the loveliest white flower he had yet struck in apath of varied experiences. Her eyes so innocent and true, with thetender expression of a fawn; the perfect turn of her head and slenderpillar of a throat; her grace and gentleness, all appealed to him in amaddening way.
"She is asleep to the whole of life's possibilities," he thought. "Whatcan her husband be about, and _what_ an intoxicatingly agreeable task towake her up!"
He had lived among the world where the awaking of young wives, or oldwives, or any woman who could please man, was the natural course of theday. It never even struck him then it might be a cruel thing to do. Awoman once married was always fair game; if the husband could not retainher affections that was his lookout.
Hector Bracondale was not a brute, just an ordinary Englishman of theworld, who had lived and loved and seen many lands.
He read Theodora like an open book: he knew exactly why she had talkedabout the weather after _Jean d'Agreve_. It thrilled him to see her softeyes dreamy and luminous when they first spoke of the book, and itflattered him when she changed the conversation.
As for Theodora, she analyzed nothing, she only felt that perhaps sheought not to speak about love to one of those people who could never behusbands.
Captain Fitzgerald, meanwhile, was making tremendous headway with thewidow. He flattered her vanity, he entertained her intelligence, and heeven ended by letting her see she was causing him, personally, greatemotion.
At last this promising evening came to an end. The Russian Prince, withhis American Princess, got up to say good-night, and gradually the partybroke up, but not before Captain Fitzgerald had arranged to meet Mrs.McBride at Doucet's in the morning, and give her the benefit of histaste and experience in a further shopping expedition to buy oldbronzes.
"We can all breakfast together at Henry's," he said, with his grandmanner, which included the whole party; and for one instant force ofhabit made Theodora's heart sink with fear at the prospect of the bill,as it had often had to do in olden days when her father gave these royalinvitations. Then she remembered she had not been sacrificed to JosiahBrown for nothing, and that even if dear, generous papa should happen tobe a little hard up again, a few hundred francs would be nothing to herto slip into his hand before starting.
The rest of the party, however, declined. They were all busy elsewhere,except Lord Bracondale and the French Count--they would come, withpleasure, they said.
Theodora wondered what Josiah would say. Would he go? and if not, wouldhe let her go? This was more important.
"Then we shall meet at breakfast to-morrow," Lord Bracondale said, as hehelped her on with her cloak. "That will give me something to lookforward to."
"Will it?" she said, and there was trouble in the two blue stars whichlooked up at him. "Perhaps I shall not be able to come; my husband israther an invalid, and--"
But he interrupted her.
"Something tells me you will come; it is fate," he said, and his voicewas grave and tender.
And Theodora, who had never before had the opportunity of talking aboutdestiny, and other agreeable subjects, with beautiful Englishmen whocould only be--lovers--felt the red blood rush to her cheeks and athrill flutter her heart. So she quickened her steps and kept close toher father, who could have dispensed with this mark of affection.
"Dearest child," he said, when they were seated in the brougham, "youare married now and should be able to look after yourself, withoutstaying glued to my side so much--it is rather bourgeois."
Poor Theodora was crushed and did not try to excuse herself.
"I am afraid Josi
ah won't go, papa dear," she said, timidly; "and incase he does not allow me to either, I want you to have these few louis,just for the breakfast. I know how generous you are, and how difficultthings have been made for you, darling." And she nestled to his sideand slipped about eight gold pieces, which she had fortunately found inher purse, into his hand.
Captain Fitzgerald was still a gentleman, although a good many edges ofhis sensitive perceptions had been rubbed off.
He kissed his daughter fondly while he murmured: "Merely a loan, my pet,merely a loan. You were always a jewel to your old father!"
Whenever her parent accused himself of being "old," Theodora knew he wasdeeply touched, and her tender heart overflowed with gladness that shewas able to smooth the path of such a darling papa.
"I will come and see you in the morning, my child," he said, as theystopped at the door of her hotel, "and I will manage Josiah."
So Theodora crept up to her apartment, comforted; and in the salon itwas she caught sight of the _Peerage_.
Josiah Brown bought one every year and travelled with it, although untilhe met the Fitzgerald family he had not known a single person connectedwith it; but it pleased him to be able to look up his wife's name, andto read that her mother was the daughter of a real live earl and herfather the brother of a baronet.
"Hector! I like the name of Hector," were the last coherent thoughtswhich floated through the brain of Theodora before sleep closed herbroad, white lids.
Meanwhile, Lord Bracondale had gone on to sup at the Cafe de Paris, withMarion de Beauvoison and Esclarmonde de Chartres; and among the diamondsand pearls and scents and feathers he suddenly felt a burning disgust,and a longing to be out again in the moonlight--alone with his thoughts.
"Mais qu'as tu, mon vieux chou?" they said. "Ce bel Hector cheri--il aun beguin pour quelqu'un--mais ce n'est pas pour nous autres!"
