Greatheart

by Ethel M. Dell

  CHAPTER I

  CINDERELLA'S PRINCE

  The early dusk of February was falling, together with a fine, drenchingrain. The trees that over-hung the muddy lane were beating their starkbranches together as though in despair over the general hopelessness ofthe outlook. The west wind that raced across the brown fields had thesharpness of snow in its train.

  "We shall catch it before we've done," said Bathurst to his hunter.

  Rupert the hunter, a dapple grey with powerful hindquarters, cocked aknowing ear in a fashion that Dinah always described as "his smile."

  It had not been a good day for either of them. The meet had been at aconsiderable distance, there had been no run worth mentioning; and nowthat it was over they were returning, thoroughly tired, from the kennels.

  Bathurst's pink coat clung to him like a sack, all streaked and darkenedwith rain. It had weathered a good many storms in its time, as its manyvarieties of tint testified; but despite this fact, its wearer neverfailed to look a sportsman and a gentleman. There was nothing of thevagabond about Bathurst, but he had the vagabond's facility for makinghimself at home wherever he went. He was never at a loss, neverembarrassed, never affronted. He took life easily, as he himself put it;and on the whole he found it good.

  Riding home at a jog-trot in that driving rain with the prospect ofhaving to feed and rub down Rupert at the end of it before he couldattend to his own needs was not a particularly entrancing prospect; buthe faced it philosophically. After today the little girl would be athome, and she could do it for him again. She loved to wait on him handand foot, and it really was a pleasure to let her.

  He whistled cheerily to himself as he wended his leisurely way throughthe dripping lane that made the shortest cut to his home. It would benice to have the little girl home again. Lydia was all very well--a goodwife, as wives went--but there was no doubt about it that Dinah'spresence made a considerable difference to his comfort. The child wasquick to forestall his wants; he sometimes thought that she was even moreuseful to him than a valet would have been. He had missed her more thanhe would have dreamed possible.

  Lydia had missed her too; he was sure of that. She had been peculiarlyshort of temper lately. Not that he ever took much notice; he was tooused to her tantrums for that. But it certainly was more comfortable whenDinah was at home to bear the brunt of them. Yes, on the whole he wasquite pleased that the little girl was coming back. It would make adifference to him in many ways.

  He wondered what time she would arrive. He had known, but he hadforgotten. He believed it was to be some time in the evening. Her grandfriends had arranged to stay at Great Mallowes, three miles, away for thenight, and one of them--the maid probably--was to bring Dinah home. Hehad smiled over this arrangement, and Lydia had openly scoffed at it. Asif a girl of Dinah's age were not capable of travelling alone! But thenof course she had been ill, very ill according to all accounts; and itwas quite decent of them to bestow so much care upon her.

  He fell to wondering if the child had got spoilt at all during her longabsence from home and the harsh discipline thereof. If so, there was ahard time before her; for Lydia was never one to stand any nonsense. Shehad always been hard on her first-born, unreasonably hard, he sometimesthought; though it was not his business to interfere. The task ofchastising the daughter of the family was surely the mother's exclusiveprerogative; and certainly Lydia had carried it out very thoroughly. Andif at times he thought her over-severe, he could not deny that the resultachieved was eminently satisfactory. Dinah was always docile and activein his service--altogether a very good child; and this was presumably dueto her mother's training. No, on the whole he had not much fault to findwith either of them. Doubtless Lydia understood her own sex best.

  He was nearing the end of the long lane; it terminated close to his home.Rupert quickened his pace. They were both splashed with mud from shoulderto heel. They had both had more than enough of the wet and the slush.

  "That's right, Rupert, my boy!" the man murmured. "Finish in style!"

  They came out from beneath the over-arching trees, emerging upon thehigh road that led from Great Mallowes to Perrythorpe. The hoot of amotor-horn caused Rupert to prick his ears, and his master reined himback as two great, shining head-lights appeared round a curve. Theydrew swiftly near, flashed past, and were gone meteor-like into thegloom.

  "Whose car was that, I wonder?" mused Bathurst.

  "The de Vignes's? It didn't look like one of the Court cars, but the oldbird is always buying something new. Lucky devil!"

  The thought of the Colonel renewed his thoughts of Dinah. Certain hintsthe former had dropped had made him wonder a little if the child werealways as demure as she seemed. Not that Colonel de Vigne had actuallyfound fault with her. He was plainly fond of her. But he had not spokenas if Dinah had effaced herself as completely abroad as she did at home.

  "Oh, yes, the little baggage enjoyed herself--was as gay as a lark--tillshe got ill," he had said. "You may find her something of a handful whenshe gets back, Bathurst. She's stretched her wings a bit since she leftyou."

  Bathurst shrugged his shoulders with the comforting reflection that hewould not have the trouble of dealing with her. If she had been giddy,after all, it was but natural. Her mother had not been particularlysteady in the days of her wild youth. And anyhow he was sure her motherwould speedily break her in again. She had a will of iron before whichDinah was _always_ forced to bend.

  He rode on along the highroad. It was not more than half a mile fartherto his home on the outskirts of the village. Somewhere in the gloom aheadof him church-bells were pealing. It was practice-night, he remembered.Dinah loved the sound of the bells. She would feel that they were ringingin her honour. Funny little Dinah! The child was full of fancies of thatsort. Just as well perhaps, for it was the only form of amusement thatever came into her home life.

  The gay peal turned into a deafening clashing as at length he neared hishome. The old church stood only a stone's throw further on. They wereringing the joy-bells with a vengeance. And then very suddenly he caughtsight of the tail-lamp of a car close to his own gate.

  Dinah had returned then. They had actually chartered that car to conveyher from Great Mallowes. He pursed his lips to a whistle. The little girlhad been in clover indeed.

  "She certainly won't think much of the home crusts after this," hemurmured to himself.

  He walked Rupert round to the tumble-down stable, and dismounted.

  For the next quarter of an hour he was busy over the animal. He thoughtit a little strange that Dinah did not spy the stable-lamp from thekitchen and come dancing out to greet him. He also wondered why the carlingered so long. It looked as if someone other than the maid hadaccompanied her, and were staying to tea.

  He never took tea after a day's hunting; hot whisky and water and a bathformed his customary programme, and then a tasty supper and bed.

  He supposed on this occasion that he would have to go in and showhimself, though he was certainly not fit to be seen. Reluctantly hepulled the bedraggled pink coat on again. After all, it did not greatlymatter. Hunting was its own excuse. No sportsman ever returned in theapple-pie order in which he started.

  Carelessly he sauntered in by way of the back premises, and was instantlystruck by the sound of a man's voice, well-bred, with a slightly haughtyintonation, speaking in one of the front rooms of the little house.

  "Dinah seemed to think that she could not keep it in till to-morrow," itsaid, with easy assurance. "So I thought I had better come along with herto-night and get it over."

  The words reached Bathurst as he arrived in the small square hall, and hestopped dead. "Hullo! Hullo!" he murmured softly to himself.

  And then came his wife's voice, a harsh, determined voice, "Do Iunderstand that you wish to marry my daughter?"

  "That's the idea," came the suave reply. "You don't know me, of course,but I think I can satisfy you that I am not an undesirable _parti_. Myfamily is considered fairly respectable, as old famili
es go. I am theninth baronet in direct succession; and I have a very fair amount ofworldly goods to offer my wife."

  Mrs. Bathurst broke in upon him, a tremor of eagerness in her hard voice."If that is the case, of course I have no objection," she said. "Dinahwon't do any better for herself than that. It seems to me that she willhave the best of the bargain. But that is your affair. She's full young.I don't suppose you want to marry her yet, do you?"

  "I'd marry her to-night if I could," said Sir Eustace, with his carelesslaugh.

  But Mrs. Bathurst did not laugh with him. "We'll have the banns publishedand everything done proper," she said. "Hasty marriages as often as notaren't regular. Here, Dinah! Don't stand there listening! Go and see ifthe kettle boils!"

  It was at this point that Bathurst deemed that the moment had arrived topresent himself. He entered, almost running into Dinah about to hurryout.

  "Hullo!" he said. "Hullo!" and taking her by the shoulders, kissed her.

  She clung to him for a moment, her sweet face burning. "Oh, Dad!" shemurmured in confusion, "Oh, Dad!"

  With his arm about her, he turned her back into the room. "You come backand introduce me to your new friend!" he said. "I've got to thank him,you know, for taking such care of you."

  She yielded, but not very willingly. She was painfully embarrassed,almost incoherent, as she obeyed Bathurst's behest.

  "This--this is Dad," she murmured.

  Sir Eustace came forward with his leisurely air of confidence. His greatbulk seemed to fill the low room. He looked even more magnificent thanusual.

  "Ah, sir, you have just come in from hunting," he said. "I hope I don'tintrude. It's a beastly wet evening. I should think you're not sorry toget in."

  Mrs. Bathurst, tall, bony, angular, with harsh, gipsy features that werestill in a fashion boldly handsome, broke in upon her husband's answeringgreeting.

  "Ronald, this gentleman tells me he wants to marry Dinah. It is verysudden, but these things often are. You will give your consent of course.I have already given mine."

  "Easy, easy!" laughed Bathurst. "Why exceed the speed limit in thisreckless fashion? You are Sir Eustace Studley? I am very pleased to meetyou."

  He held out his hand to Sir Eustace, and gave him the grasp ofgood-fellowship. It seemed to Dinah that the very atmosphere changedmagically with the coming of her father. No difficult situation everdismayed him. He and Sir Eustace were not dissimilar in this respect.Whatever the circumstances, they both knew how to hold their own withabsolute ease. It was a faculty which she would have given much topossess.

  Sir Eustace was laughing in his careless, well-bred way. "It's rather ashame to spring the matter on you like this," he said. "I ought to havewaited to ask your consent to the engagement, but I am afraid I am not avery patient person, and I wanted to make sure of your daughter beforewe parted. We are staying at Great Mallowes--at the Royal Stag. May Icome over to-morrow and put things on a more business-like footing?"

  "Oh, don't hurry away!" said Bathurst easily. "Sit down and have some teawith us! It is something of a surprise certainly but a very agreeableone. Lydia, what about tea? Or perhaps you prefer a whisky and soda?"

  "Tea, thanks," said Sir Eustace, and seated himself with his superb airof complete assurance.

  Mrs. Bathurst turned upon her daughter. "Dinah, how many more times am Ito tell you to go and see if the kettle boils?"

  Dinah started, as one rudely awakened from an entrancing dream. "I amsorry," she murmured in confusion. "I forgot."

  She fled from the room with the words, and her mother, with dark browsdrawn, looked after her for a moment, then sat down facing Sir Eustace.

  "I should like to know," she said aggressively, "what you are prepared todo for her."

  Sir Eustace smiled in his aloof, slightly supercilious fashion. He hadbeen more or less prepared for Dinah's mother, but the temptation toaddress her as "My good woman" was almost more than he could withstand.

  "Will you not allow me," he said, icily courteous, "to settle thisimportant matter with Mr. Bathurst to-morrow? He will then be in aposition to explain it to you."

  Mrs. Bathurst made a movement of fierce impatience. She had been put inher place by this stranger and furiously she resented it. But the man wasa baronet, and a marvellous catch for a son-in-law; and she did not dareto put her resentment into words.

  She got up therefore, and flounced angrily to the door. Sir Eustace arosewithout haste and with a stretch of his long arm opened it for her.

  She flung him a glance, half-hostile, half-awed, as she went through. Shehad a malignant hatred for the upper class, despite the fact that her ownhusband was a member thereof. And yet she held it in unwilling respect.Sir Eustace's nonchalantly administered snub was far harder to bear thanany open rudeness from a man of her own standing would have been.

  Fiercely indignant, she entered the kitchen, and caught Dinah peeping atherself in the shining surface of the warming-pan after having removedher hat.

  "Ah, that's your game, my girl, is it?" she said. "You've come back thegrand lady, have you? You've no further, use for your mother, I daresay.She may work her fingers to the bone for all you care--or ever will careagain."

  Dinah whizzed round, scarlet and crestfallen. "Oh, Mother! How youstartled me! I only wanted to see if--if my hair was tidy."

  "And that's one of your lies," said Mrs. Bathurst, with a heavy hand onher shoulder. "They've taught you how to juggle with the truth, that'splain. Oh yes, Lady Studley that is to be, you've learnt a lot sinceyou've been away, I can see--learnt to despise your mother, I'll lay awager. But I'll show you she's not to be despised by a prinking minx likeyou. What did I send you in here for, eh?"

  "To--to see to the kettle," faltered Dinah, shrinking before the sternregard of the black eyes that so mercilessly held her own.

  "And there it is ready to boil over, and you haven't touched it, youworthless little hussy, you! Take that--and dare to disobey me again!"

  She dealt the girl a blow with her open hand as she spoke, a swinging,pitiless blow, on the cheek, and pushed her fiercely from her.

  Dinah reeled momentarily. The sudden violence of the attack bewilderedher. Actually she had almost forgotten how dreadful her mother could be.Then, recovering herself, she went to the fire and stooped over it,without a word. She had a burning sensation at the throat, and she was onthe verge of passionate tears. The memory of Isabel's parting embrace,the tender drawing of her arms only a brief half-hour before made thishome-coming almost intolerable.

  "What's that thing you're wearing?" demanded Mrs. Bathurst abruptly.

  Dinah lifted the kettle and turned. "It is a fur-lined coat that--that hebought for me in Paris."

  "Then take it off!" commanded Mrs. Bathurst. "And don't you wear it againuntil I give you leave! How dare you accept presents from the man beforeI've even seen him?"

  "I couldn't help it," murmured Dinah, as she slipped off the luxuriousgarment that Isabel had chosen for her.

  "Couldn't help it!" Bitterly Mrs. Bathurst echoed the words. "You'll sayyou couldn't help him falling in love with you next! As if you didn't setout to catch him, you little artful brown-faced monkey! Oh, I always knewyou were crafty, for all your simple ways. Mind, I don't say you haven'tdone well for yourself, you have--a deal better than you deserve. Butdon't ever say you couldn't help it to me again! For if you do, I'lltrounce you for it, do you hear? None of your coy airs for me! I won'tput up with 'em. You'll behave yourself as long as you're in this house,or I'll know the reason why."

  To all of which Dinah listened in set silence, telling herself withdesperate insistence that it would not be for long. Sir Eustace did notmean to be kept waiting, and he would deliver her finally and for alltime.

  She did not know exactly why her mother was angry. She supposed sheresented the idea of losing her slave. There seemed no other possiblereason, for love for her she had none. Dinah knew but too cruelly wellthat she had been naught but an unwelcome burden from the very earliestdays
of her existence. Till she met Isabel, she had never known what realmother-love could be.

  She wondered if her _fiance_ would notice the red mark on her cheek whenshe carried in the teapot; but he was holding a careless conversationwith her father, and only gave her a glance and a smile.

  During the meal that followed he scarcely addressed her or so much aslooked her way. He treated her mother with a freezing aloofness that madeher tremble inwardly. She wondered how he dared.

  When at length he rose to go, however, his attention returned to Dinah.He laid a dominating hand upon her shoulder. "Are you coming to see meoff?"

  She glanced at her mother in involuntary appeal, but failed to catch hereye. Silently she turned to the door.

  He took leave of her parents with the indifference of one accustomed topopularity. "I shall be round in the morning," he said to her father."About twelve? That'll suit me very well; unless I wait till theafternoon and bring my sister. I know she hopes to come over if she iswell enough. That is, of course, if you don't object to an informalcall."

  He spoke as if in his opinion the very fact of its informality conferreda favour, and again Dinah trembled lest her mother should break forthinto open rudeness.

  But to her amazement Mrs. Bathurst seemed somewhat overawed by theprincely stranger. She even smiled in a grim way as she said, "I will beat home to her."

  Sir Eustace made her a ceremonious bow and went out sweeping Dinah alongwith him. He closed the door with a decision there was no mistaking, andthe next moment he had her in his arms.

  "You poor little frightened mouse!" he said. "No wonder--no wonder younever knew before what life, real life, could be!"

  She clung to him with all her strength, burying her face in the furcollar of his coat. "Oh, do marry me, quick--quick--quick!" she besoughthim, in a muffled whisper. "And take me away!"

  He gathered her close in his arms, so close that she trembled again. Hernerves were all on edge that night.

  "If they won't let me have you in a month from now," he said, in a voicethat quivered slightly, "I swear I'll run away with you."

  There was no echo of humour in his words though she tried to laugh atthem, and ever he pressed her closer and closer to his heart, tillpanting she had to lift her face. And then he kissed her in hispassionate compelling way, holding her shy lips with his own till heactually forced them to respond. She felt as if his love burned her, but,even so, she dared not shrink from it. There was so much at stake. Hermother's lack of love was infinitely harder to endure.

  And so she bore the fierce flame of his passion unflinching even thoughher spirit clamoured wildly to be free, choosing rather to be consumed byit than left a beaten slave in her house of bondage.

  His kisses waked in her much more of fear than rapture. That untameddesire of his frightened her to the very depths of her being, but yet itwas infinitely preferable to the haughty indifference with which heregarded all the rest of the world. It meant that he would not let hergo, and that in itself was comfort unspeakable to Dinah. He meant to haveher at any price, and she was very badly in need of deliverance, eventhough she might have to pay for it, and pay heavily.

  It was at this point, actually while his fiery kisses were scorching herlips, that a very strange thought crept all unawares into herconsciousness. If she ever needed help, if she ever needed escape, shehad a friend to whom she could turn--a staunch and capable friend whowould never fail her. She was sure that Scott would find a way to easethe burden if it became too heavy. Her faith in him, his wisdom, hisstrength, was unbounded. And he helped everyone--the valiant servantGreatheart, protector of the helpless, sustainer of the vanquished.

  When her lover was gone at last, she closed the door and leaned againstit, feeling weak in every fibre.

  Bathurst, coming out a few moments later, was struck by her spent look."Well, Dinah lass," he said lightly, "you look as if it had costsomething of an effort to land your catch. But he's a mighty fine one, Iwill say that for him."

  She went to him, twining her arm in his, forcing herself to smile. "Oh,Dad," she said, "he is fine, isn't he?" But--but--she uttered the wordsalmost in spite of herself--"you should see his brother. You shouldsee--Scott."

  "What? Is he finer still?" laughed Bathurst, pinching her cheek. "Haveyou got the whole family at your feet, you little baggage?"

  She flushed very deeply. "Oh no! Oh no! I didn't mean that. Scott--Scottis not a bit like that. He is--he is--" And there she broke off, for whocould hope to convey any faithful impression of this good friend of hers?There were no words that could adequately describe him. With a littlesigh she turned from the subject. "I'm glad you like Eustace," she saidshyly.

  Bathurst laughed a little, then bent unexpectedly, and kissed her. "It'sa case of Cinderella and the prince," he said lightly. "But the luckisn't all on Cinderella's side, I'm thinking."

  She clung to him eagerly. "Oh, Daddy, thank you! Thank you! Do youknow--it's funny--Scott used to call me Cinderella!"

  Bathurst crooked his brows quizzically. "How original of him! This Scottseems to be quite a wonderful person. And what was your pet name for himI wonder, eh, sly-boots?"

  She laughed in evident embarrassment. There was something implied in herfather's tone that made her curiously reluctant to discuss her hero. Andyet, in justification of the man himself, she felt she must saysomething.

  "His brother and sister call him--Stumpy," she said, "because he islittle and he limps. But I--" her face was as red as the hunting-coatagainst which it nestled--"I called him--Mr. Greatheart. He is--just likethat."

  Mr. Bathurst laughed again, tweaking her ear. "Altogether anextraordinary family!" he commented. "I must meet this Mr. StumpyGreatheart. Now suppose you run upstairs and turn on the hot water. Andwhen you've done that, you can take my boots down to the kitchen to dry.And mind you don't fall foul of your mother, for she strikes me as beinga bit on the ramp tonight!"

  He kissed her again, and she clung to him very fast for a moment or two,tasting in that casual, kindly embrace all the home joy she had everknown.

  Then, hearing her mother's step, she swiftly and guiltily disengagedherself and fled up the stairs like a startled bird. As she prepared hisbath for him, the wayward thought came to her that if only he and shehad lived alone together, she would never have wanted to get married atall--even for the delight of being Lady Studley instead of "poor littleDinah Bathurst!"