Beyond The Rocks: A Love Story

by Elinor Glyn

  XVIII

  Next day Lady Anningford called, as she had promised, at Claridge's, andfound Mrs. Brown at home, although it was only three o'clock in theafternoon.

  She had not two minutes to wait in the well-furnished first-floorsitting-room, but during that time she noticed there were one or twothings about which showed the present occupant was a woman of taste, andthere were such quantities of flowers. Flowers, flowers, everywhere.

  Theodora entered already dressed for her afternoon drive. She cameforward with that perfect grace which characterized her every movement.

  If she felt very timid and nervous it did not show in her sweet face,and Lady Anningford perceived Hector had every excuse for hisinfatuation.

  "I am so fortunate to find you at home, Mrs. Brown," she said. "Mybrother has told me so much about you, and I was longing to meet you.May we sit down on this sofa and talk a little, or were you juststarting for your drive?"

  "Of course we may sit down," said Theodora. "My drive does not matter inthe least. It was so good of you to come."

  And her inward thought was that she would like Hector's sister. Anne'sfrankness and _sans gene_ were so pleasing.

  They exchanged a few agreeable sentences while each measured the other,and then Lady Anningford said:

  "You come from Australia, don't you?"

  "Australia!" smiled Theodora, while her eyes opened wide. "Oh no! I havenever been out of France and Belgium and places like that. My husbandlived in Melbourne for some years, though."

  "I thought it could not be possible," quoth Anne to herself.

  "Then you don't know much of England yet?" she said, aloud.

  "It is my first visit; and it seems very dull and rainy. This is theonly really fine day we have had since we arrived."

  Anne soon dexterously elicited an outline of Theodora's plans and whatshe was doing. They would only remain in town until Whitsuntide,perhaps returning later for a week or two; and Mrs. Devlyn, to whom herfather had sent her an introduction, had been kind enough to tell themwhat to do and how to see a little of London. She was going to a ballto-night. The first real ball she had ever been to in her life, shesaid, ingenuously.

  And Lady Anningford looked at her and each moment fell more under hercharm.

  "The ball at Harrowfield House, I expect, to meet the King ofGuatemala," she said, knowing Lady Harrowfield was Florence Devlyn'scousin.

  "That is it," said Theodora.

  "Then you must dance with Hector--my brother," she said.

  She launched his name suddenly; she wanted to see what effect it wouldhave on Theodora. "He is sure to be there, and he dances divinely."

  She was rewarded for her thrust: just the faintest pink came into thewhite velvet cheeks, and the blue eyes melted softly. To dance withHector! Ah! Then the radiance was replaced by a look of sadness, and shesaid, quietly:

  "Oh, I do not think I shall dance at all. My husband is rather aninvalid, and we shall only go in for a little while."

  No, she must not dance with Hector. Those joys were not for her--shemust not even think of it.

  "How extraordinarily beautiful she is!" Anne thought, when presently,the visit ended, she found herself rolling along in her electricbrougham towards the park. "And I feel I shall love her. I wonder whather Christian name is?"

  Theodora had promised they would lunch in Charles Street with her thenext day if her husband should be well enough after the ball. And Annedecided to collect as many nice people to meet them as she could in thetime.

  At the corner of Grosvenor Square she met an old friend, one ColonelLowerby, commonly called the Crow, and stopped to pick him up and takehim on with her.

  He was the one person she wanted to talk to at this juncture. She hadknown him all her life, and was accustomed to prattle to him on allsubjects. He was always safe, and gruff, and honest.

  "I have just done something so interesting, Crow," she told him, as theywent along towards Regent's Park, to which sylvan spot she had directedher chauffeur, to be more free to talk in peace to her companion. Someof her friends were capable of making scandals, even about the dear oldCrow, she knew.

  "And what have you done?" he asked.

  "Of course you have heard the tale from Uncle Evermond, of Hector andthe lady at Monte Carlo?"

  He nodded.

  "Well, there is not a word of truth in it; he is in love, though, withthe most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life--and I have justbeen to call upon her. And to-morrow you have got to come to lunch tomeet her--and tell me what you think."

  "Very well," said the Crow. "I was feeding elsewhere, but I always obeyyou. Continue your narrative."

  "I want you to tell me what to do, and how I can help them."

  "My dear child," said the Crow, sententiously, as was his habit, "helpthem to what? She is married, of course, or Hector would not be in lovewith her. Do you want to help them to part or to meet? or to go toheaven or to hell? or to spend what Monica Ellerwood calls 'a Saturdayto Monday amid rural scenery,' which means both of those things oneafter the other!"

  "Crow, dear, you are disagreeable," said Lady Anningford, "and I have acold in my head and cannot compete with you in words to-day."

  "Then say what you want, and I'll listen."

  "Hector met them in Paris, it seems, and must have fallen wildly inlove, because I have never seen him as he is now."

  "How is he?--and who is 'them'?"

  "Why, she and the husband, of course, and Hector is looking sad anddistrait--and has really begun to feel at last."

  "Serve him right!"

  "Crow, you are insupportable! Can you not see I am serious and want yourhelp?"

  "Fire away, then, my good child, and explain matters. You are toovague!"

  So she told him all she knew--which was little enough; but she waseloquent upon Theodora's beauty.

  "She has the face of an angel," she ended her description with.

  "Always mistrust 'em," interjected the Crow.

  "Such a figure and the nicest manner, and she is in love with Hector,too, of course--because she could not possibly help herself--couldshe?--if he is being lovely to her."

  "I have not your prejudiced eyes for him--though Hector certainly is adecent fellow enough to look at," allowed Colonel Lowerby. "But allthis does not get to what you want to do for them."

  "I want them to be happy."

  "Permanently, or for the moment?"

  "Both."

  "An impossible combination, with these abominably inconsiderate marriagelaws we suffer under in this country, my child."

  "Then what ought I to do?"

  "You can do nothing but accelerate or hinder matters for a little. IfHector is really in love, and the woman, too, they are bound to dreetheir weird, one way or the other, themselves. You will be doing thegreatest kindness if you can keep them apart, and avoid a scandal ifpossible."

  "My dear Crow, I have never heard of your being so thoroughlyunsympathetic before."

  "And I have never heard of Hector being really in love before, and withan angel, too--deuced dangerous folk at the best of times!"

  "Then there are mother and Morella Winmarleigh to be counted with."

  "Neither of them can see beyond their noses. Miss Winmarleigh is sure ofhim, she thinks--and your mother, too."

  "No; mother has her doubts."

  "They will both be anti?"

  "Extremely anti."

  "To get back to facts, then, your plan is to assist your brother to seethis 'angel,' and smooth the path to the final catastrophe."

  "You worry me, Crow. Why should there be a catastrophe?"

  "Is she a young woman?"

  "A mere baby. Certainly not more than twenty or so."

  "Then it is inevitable, if the husband don't count. You have notdescribed him yet."

  "Because I have never seen him," said Lady Anningford. "Hector did saylast night, though, that he was an impossible Australian millionaire."

  "These people have a strong
sense of personal rights--they are evenblood-thirsty sometimes, and expect virtue in their women. If he hadbeen just an English snob, the social bauble might have proved animmense eye-duster; but when you say Australian it gives me hope. He'lltake her away, or break Hector's head, before things become tooembarrassing."

  "Crow, you are brutal."

  "And a good thing, too. That is what we all want, a little morebrutality. The whole of the blessed show here is being ruined with thissickly sentimentality. Flogging done away with; every silly nervepandered to. By Jove! the next time we have to fight any country weshall have an anaesthetic served round with the rations to keep TommyAtkins's delicate nerves from suffering from the consciousness of theslaughter he inflicts upon the enemy."

  "Crow, you are violent."

  "Yes, I am. I am sick of the whole thing. I would reintroduceprize-fighting and bear-baiting and gladiatorial shows to brace thenation up a bit. We'll get jammed full of rotten vices like thosebeastly foreigners soon."

  "I did not bring you into Regent's Park to hear a tirade upon thenation's needs, Crow," Anne reminded him, smiling, "but to get yoursympathy and advice upon this affair of Hector. You know you are theonly person in the world I ever talk to about intimate things."

  "Dear Queen Anne," he said, "I will always do what I can for you. But Itell you seriously, when a man like Hector loves a woman really, youmight as well try to direct Niagara Falls as to turn him any way but theone he means to go."

  "He wants me to be kind to her. Do you advise me just to let the thingdrop, then?"

  "No; be as kind as you like--only don't assist them to destruction."

  "She goes into the country on Saturday for Whitsuntide, as we all do.Hector is going down to Bracondale alone."

  "That looks desperate. I shall see Hector, and judge for myself."

  "You must be sure to go to the ball at Harrowfield House to-night,then," Anne said. "They are both going. I say both because I know sheis, and so, of course, Hector will be there too. I shall go, naturally,and then we can decide what we can do about it after we have seen themtogether."

  And all this time Theodora was thinking how charming Anne was, and howkind, and that she felt a little happier because of her kindness. And,hard as it would be, she would not leave Josiah's side that night ordance with Hector.

  And Hector was thinking--

  "What is the good of anything in this wide world without her? I _must_see her. For good or ill, I cannot keep away."

  He was deep in the toils of desire and passionate love for a womanbelonging to someone else and out of his reach, and for whom he washungry. Thus the primitive forces of nature were in violent activity,and his soul was having a hard fight.

  It was the first time in his life that a woman had really mattered orhad been impossible to obtain.

  He had always looked upon them as delightful accessories: sport first,and woman, who was only another form of sport, second.

  He had not neglected the obligations of his great position, but theycame naturally to him as of the day's work. They were not real interestsin his life. And when stripped of the veneer of civilization he was buta passionate, primitive creature, like numbers of others of his classand age.

  While the elevation of Theodora's pure soul was an actual influence uponhim, he had thought it would be possible--difficult, perhaps--butpossible to obey her--to keep from troubling her--to regulate hispassion into worship at a distance. But since then new influences hadbegun to work--prominent among them being jealousy.

  To see her surrounded by others--who were men and would desire her,too--drove him mad.

  Josiah was difficult enough to bear. The thought that he was herhusband, and had the rights of this position, always turned him sickwith raging disgust; but that was the law, and a law accepted since thebeginning of time. These others were not of the law--they were the sameas himself--and would all try to win her.

  He had no fear of their succeeding, but, to watch them trying, and hehimself unable to prevent them, was a thought he could not tolerate.

  He had no settled plan. He did not deliberately say to himself: "I willpossess her at all costs. I will be her lover, and take her by forcefrom the bonds of this world." His whole mind was in a ferment andchaos. There was no time to think of the position in cold blood. Hispassion hurried him on from hour to hour.

  This day after the opera, when the hideous impossibility of thesituation had come upon him with full force, he felt as Lancelot--

  "His mood was often like a fiend, and rose and drove him into wastes and solitudes for agony, Who was yet a living soul."

  There are all sorts of loves in life, but when it is the real greatpassion, nor fear of hell nor hope of heaven can stem the tide--forlong!

  He had gone out in his automobile, and was racing ahead considerablyabove the speed limit. He felt he must do something. Had it been winterand hunting-time, he would have taken any fences--any risks. He returnedand got to Ranelagh, and played a game of polo as hard as he could, andthen he felt a little calmer. The idea came to him as it had done toAnne. Lady Harrowfield was Florence Devlyn's cousin; she would probablyhave squeezed an invitation for her protegees for the royal ballto-night. He would go--he must see Theodora. He must hold her in hisarms, if only in the mazes of the waltz.

  And the thought of that sent the blood whirling madly once more in hisveins.

  Everything he had looked upon so lightly up to now had taken a newsignificance in reference to Theodora. Florence Devlyn, for instance,was no fit companion for her--Florence Devlyn, whom he met at everydecent house and had never before disapproved of, except as a bore and asycophant.