The Red Derelict

by Bertram Mitford

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

  MORE SIEGE HOUSE AMENITIES.

  In conjecturing that Delia Calmour's honourable renunciation wasprobably made at the cost of her peace at home the Squire proved himselfa true prophet, for the poor girl's life became anything but a bed ofroses. When he heard that she had irrevocably carried out her intentionold Calmour grew savage, first abusing her in the most scandalousmanner, and, being half drunk, fell to whining about the ingratitude ofchildren, deliberately allowing their parents to starve in their old agefor the sake of gratifying a selfish whim. Then he got wholly drunk, soviolently, indeed, that even Clytie, the resolute, the level-headed,found it all that she could do to keep her nerve, while the intrepid Bobpromptly skulked off out of harm's way.

  The said Bob, too, contributed his share of mean and petty annoyance.He would insinuate that he did not believe she had really returned thecheque. She wanted to keep it all for herself, and leave them out. Hewent further, like the mean and despicable cad he was, insinuating thatthere was plenty more where that came from, that Wagram knew a prettygirl when he saw one, and so forth; in short, behaving in such wise aswould formerly, according to the ways of Siege House, have drawn uponhimself some sudden and violent form of retaliation. But a change hadcome over the sister he was persecuting, and the ways of Siege Housewere no longer her ways, hence the abominable Bob took heart of grace,and his behaviour and insinuations became more and more scandalous.Even Clytie could no longer restrain him. But his turn was to come.

  Throughout all this Delia never regretted the decision she had arrivedat, never for a single moment. She would act in exactly the same waywere the occasion to come over again--were it to come over again ahundred times, she declared, goaded beyond endurance by her father'salternate maudlin reproaches or vehement abuse. And he had retortedthat the sooner she got outside his door and never set foot inside itagain the better he would be pleased. This she would have done but forClytie and--one other consideration.

  Clytie at first had been a little cool with her, but had come round,declaring that, on thinking it over, perhaps, on the principle of asprat to catch a herring, what had happened was the best thing thatcould have happened, if only they played their cards well now. ThenDelia had rounded on her.

  "Don't talk in that beastly way, Clytie; I'm not going to play any cardsat all, as you put it. Even if I were inclined to, look at us--_us_,mind," she added, with a bitter sneer, and a nod of the head in thedirection of the other room, where their father and brother were audiblywrangling and swearing--the former, as usual, half drunk.

  "Pooh! that wouldn't count," was the equable reply. "You don't supposeyou'd have that hamper lumbering around once you'd won the game, do you?I'd take care of that."

  "Well, I shall go; he's always telling me to."

  "No, you won't. Let him tell--and go on telling. I can do some tellingtoo, if it comes to that--telling him that if you go I go too, and weknow well enough how he'd take that. No; you stop and face it out.You'll be jolly glad you did one of these days."

  Poor Delia within her heart of hearts was glad already. A month agoless than a tenth of what she had had to undergo would have started heroff independent, to do for herself. Now all the strength seemed to havegone out of her, and the idea of leaving Bassingham and itsneighbourhood struck her with a blank dismay that she preferred not tolet her mind dwell upon. Now she broke down.

  "I wish it had been me, instead of the bicycle, that had been knocked topieces," she sobbed. "I wish to Heaven the brute had killed me thatday."

  "But you should not wish that, my dear child," mocked Bob, who, passingthe door, had overheard. "You should not wish that. It's very wicked,as your Papist friends would say." Then he took himself off with ayahooing laugh.

  Now, it befell that on the following morning, while moving her post-cardalbums, Delia dropped several loose cards. Upon these pounced Bob, withno intention of picking them up for her, we may be sure, possibly in thehope of causing her some passing annoyance by scattering them stillmore; but hardly had he bent down with that amiable object than hestarted back, as though he had been about to pick up a snake unawares."What--why? Who the deuce is that?" he cried. One of the cards waslying with the picture face upwards. This he now picked up. "Who isit?" he stammered, staring wildly at it. "Don't you recognise it, ordoes it bring back painful recollections?" retorted Delia as she watchedhim blankly gaping at the portrait card which Yvonne had given her. Forupon her a new light had dawned. "Don't you? You should have goodreason to," she went on mercilessly, her eyes full upon his face."Isn't it Miss Haldane? You know--and I know--who it was that insultedher on the Swanton road one day, but Mr Haldane doesn't know--_as yet_."Bob's face had gone white.

  "Hang it all, Delia," he gasped, "you wouldn't give your own brotheraway, surely?"

  "My own brother has just given himself away," was the sneering reply."Brother! Yes. You have been very brotherly to me of late, haven'tyou--trying to drive me from the house, and making all sorts ofperfectly scandalous insinuations! Very brotherly? Eh?"

  "Oh, well, perhaps I said a good deal more than I meant," grumbled Bobshamefacedly.

  "And you'd have gone on doing the same if it hadn't been for findingthat card," she pursued, not in the least deceived by an apologyextorted through sheer scare. "Well, please yourself as to whether youdo so or not, now."

  Thus the abominable Bob's turn had come, and so far as he was concernedDelia was henceforward left in peace. Bob, then, being reduced Clytiejudged the time ripe for reducing her father also.

  "See here, dad," she began one day when the old man was grumbling at hiseldest daughter, and suggesting for the twentieth time that she hadbetter clear out and do something for herself, "don't you think we havehad about enough nagging over that cheque business?--because if youdon't, I do."

  "Oh, you do, do you, Miss Hoity Toity?"

  "Rather. And I move that we have no more of it--that the matter beallowed to drop, as they say in the House."

  "What the devil d'you mean, you impudent baggage?" snarled her father.

  "What the devil I say--no more--no less," was the imperturbable reply."Two or three times a day you tell Delia to clear, and we're tired ofit."

  "Are you?" he returned, coldly sarcastic. "Well, I wonder she requiresso much telling."

  "Well, you needn't tell her any more--it's waste of trouble. She isn'tgoing to clear, not until she wants to, anyway; except on these terms--if she clears I clear too. How's that?"

  Thereupon old Calmour went into a petulant kind of rage, and choked andspluttered, and swore that he'd be master in his own house, that theywere a pair of impudent, ungrateful baggages, that they might both go tothe devil for all he cared, and the sooner they got there the better.Unfortunately, however, he rather neutralised the effect of hisperoration by tailing off into the maudlin, and allusions to thewickedness and ingratitude of children who thought nothing of desertingtheir only parent in his old age, and so forth--to all of which Clytielistened with unruffled composure.

  "All right, dad," she rejoined cheerfully. "Now you've blown off steamand are more comfortable again let's say no more about it. What hasbeen done can't be undone, that's certain; in fact, I've an instinctthat it may have been all for the best after all, so let's all be jollytogether again as before. I've got a lot more orders for typing--infact, almost more than I can do--and if they go on at this rate I shallhave to get another machine, and take Delia into partnership--she has anidea of working it already."

  "Well, well, there's something in that," said the old man, mollified bythis brightening of prospects. "I must have a glass of grog on thestrength of it."

  Clytie looked at him for a moment, shook her pretty head, and then gotout a bottle. He was quite sober, and it was the first that day.

  "Only one," she said. "No more, mind."

  She did not think it necessary to tell him that this increase ofmaterial prosperity was due to the good offices of Wagram.
The latterwas not the one to do things by halves, and had never forgotten thepromise he had made on the occasion of his call at Siege House.

  "There you are, Delia!" she triumphantly declared as the orders camepouring in. "You never know what you lose through want of asking. If Ihadn't put it point-blank to him I shouldn't have got all these--and itmakes a difference, I can tell you. What a devil of a good chap he mustbe!"

  A few days later a surprise came for Delia in the shape of a letter fromthe editor of a particularly smart and up-to-date pictorial, requestingher to contribute to its illustrated series of articles on old countryseats, so many words of letterpress and so many photographs of HilverseaCourt, and quoting a very liberal rate of remuneration if thecontribution proved to be to the editor's satisfaction. The girl wasradiant.

  "It's too good to be true, Clytie. How can they have heard of me?" sheexclaimed. "Surely no one has been playing a practical joke on me. Ican hardly believe it."

  Clytie scanned the letter "It's genuine right enough," she pronounced."Wagram again."

  "What? But--no--it can't be this time. Why, don't you see what itsays: `Provided you can obtain the permission of Mr Grantley Wagram'?So, you see, it's apart from them entirely."

  "That's only a red herring. I'll bet you five bob he's at the back ofit. Are you on?"

  "N-no," answered Delia, upon whom a recollection was dawning of thingsshe had let fall on that memorable occasion of her last visit toHilversea. She had prattled on about herself, and her experiences,among which had been a little journalism of a very poorly-paid order.

  "I believe you are right, Clytie," she went on slowly. "I rememberletting go that I had done that sort of thing in a small way, and eventhat I would be glad to do it again in a large one if only I got thechance, but I never dreamt of anything coming of it--never for amoment."

  "No? Well, you're in luck's way this time, dear. Probably this editoris a friend of his; and then, apart from that, a man in the position ofWagram of Hilversea can exercise almost unlimited influence in prettynear any direction he chooses--by Jove, he can."

  Delia did not at once reply, and, noting a certain look upon hermeditative face, Clytie smiled to herself, and forebore to make anyallusion to her cherished scheme, which, in her own mind, she decidedwas growing more promising than ever.