She Painted Her Face

by Dornford Yates

  Though the evening was warm, a fire of logs had been lighted upon the hearth: before this the Duchess was resting upon a mighty chaise longue, and Elizabeth was standing beside a jamb of the fireplace, one of her beautiful hands on the chiselled stone, regarding the leisurely flicker that hovered above a hillock of rose-grey ash.

  As the door closed behind us —

  “I have ordered your car,” said Old Harry, “for half-past ten. That gives us just half an hour, which should be enough. I’ve one or two things to say, and I’ll say them first.

  “I think we all know where we are and where we shall be next Tuesday at five o’clock. On no account try to conceal that we have already met. That way madness lies. We have all met here tonight – for the very first time. Let no one be ill at ease. Except for Richard Exon, I don’t think anyone will.”

  “Oh, madam,” protested Herrick.

  “Don’t interrupt,” said Old Harry. “Besides, you’d be at ease with a gaggle of Elders discussing the wrath to come.”

  I very near laughed and Elizabeth covered her mouth.

  “If you feel uneasy, Richard, always remember at once that though Brief is doing the honours, you are Elizabeth’s guest. And that, I think, should bring your confidence back. You will take your man, Winter, with you, and I shall take three servants to look after me. One will be Parish – that excellent English page whom you have already seen. Should need arise, we can communicate through them, with all convenience. Tell the police that you have been invited to Brief, as you understand, to meet me. That will set you above all suspicion, such is this snobbish world.

  “One thing more.

  “As luck will have it, Elizabeth’s mother’s jewels were held by the firm of goldsmiths whom I have always employed. Bauble and Levity – you probably know the name. She has, therefore, written to them to say that by my advice she will have the gems reset and desiring them to be ready with new designs against her coming to London in six weeks’ time. That letter will send the ball flying: and since she gave this address, the reply will come to this house and will go on to Brief by hand, in my private bag.

  “And now can anyone think of anything else? Because, if they can, let us have it – for better or worse. We shan’t see each other again until we strut on to the stage.”

  There was a little silence.

  “Very good,” said Old Harry. “And now I want to see Mr Herrick alone. Take your leave of me, Richard, and then make the best of the terrace, until Mr Herrick appears. Elizabeth will go with you.”

  I stepped to her side.

  “Madam,” I said, “I have much to thank you for.”

  “I don’t know about that. Never mind. I’ve much enjoyed your visit – and that’s a thing I can say to very few guests.”

  “Thank you. Madam.” I put her hand to my lips. “I hope you’re not very tired.”

  “Tired be damned,” said Old Harry. “I never felt so fit in my life.”

  “Till Tuesday, madam.”

  The Duchess smiled and nodded, and I followed Elizabeth out of the handsome chamber and, presently, into the air.

  As though Nature were on her mettle, the world seemed to be without end and the terrace was magnified. The moon, which was low in heaven, was whiting the flags with silver and slanting a print of the parapet down their length; and the sleeping country beyond had the look of a spreading woodcut, from which all imperfection was done away.

  Elizabeth led the way to the head of the steps.

  “It’s all your doing,” she said.

  “Which is absurd,” said I. “She’s mad about you.”

  “My dear, you gave her the lead. I had a claim upon her. How could she fail me, when you, upon whom I had none had done so much?”

  I shook my head.

  “You must thank yourself,” I said. “I saw you – and that was enough. And as with me, so with her. The king’s ring got you inside: but, once you were in – well, supposing you’d asked for the moon, she might have told you off, but when she was through, she’d have sent for a pair of steps.”

  Elizabeth laughed. Then she slid her arm through mine.

  “I wish I was going with you. I’ve been so happy at Raven: and if this morning I’d dreamed that I shouldn’t come back, I – I wouldn’t have gone. It may have been out of order, but I know I’d jump at the chance to do it again. I’ve…much enjoyed…my ‘weekend with a couple of men’.”

  “They’ll miss you terribly, Elizabeth.”

  “Sit in the meadow tomorrow – I’ll think of you there. Close to the stream – by yourself: between lunch and tea. And, if I can, I’ll sit here – at the head of the steps. Oh, and please be very careful and always go armed. Remember, he knows where you are, and the woods about Raven are thick.”

  “I promise,” I said. “And on Tuesday…”

  “On Tuesday I’ll see you again. And on Wednesday we’ll ride before breakfast – that’s natural enough. Besides, it’ll be my joy to entertain you as a guest.”

  “I’ll never be easy,” I said, “when you’re out of my sight. Here I know that you’re safe: but at Brief…” I drew in my breath. “Can you trust your maid? I think she should sleep in your suite.”

  “Perhaps you’re right. I’ll see what Old Harry says.”

  “I’d be easier, Elizabeth. You see, by day I can always be within call. But by night I can’t. And if you want me to sleep – well, you’ll do as I ask.”

  My lady lifted her head to the lambent sky.

  “You don’t look back,” she said, “do you – when you’ve put your hand to the plough? You’re not going to rest till – till you’ve carried me out of the wood?

  “Men don’t lay down their honours before their time.”

  “And then?”

  “They lay them down,” I said slowly: “and go their way.”

  There was a little silence.

  “What way shall you go, Richard?”

  I drew myself up.

  “I don’t know. Perhaps John Herrick will help me. We might do something together, until Lord Naseby dies. But I’ll always be at your service. You’ll only have to call me. I’ll always come.”

  “Why do you say that, Richard?”

  “Because you have made me your servant – for as long as I live.”

  “I don’t want you to be my servant.”

  I laughed at that.

  “Then you shouldn’t have your eyes, or your mouth, or your beautiful ways. You shouldn’t move as you do, or throw a smile over your shoulder, or push back your hair from your temples with one of your lovely hands. And you shouldn’t have your nature – which makes a man want to pay tribute with all his heart.”

  “And what does he get – in return?”

  “He’s paid in advance,” said I. “That very question shows that you don’t understand. To have to do with you is to run into debt – your debt. And at once one’s instinct is to do what little one can to pay you back.”

  Elizabeth raised her eyebrows.

  “I’m afraid you’re an idealist, Richard. And that’s a mistake, my dear. Red Lead Lane should have shown you… But then the complete idealist never learns. If it makes you happy to set me up in a niche, why then you must have your way. I’ll smile upon you from there. And sometimes, when you’re not looking, I might climb down and be a good-looking girl, with the usual human passions, a weakness for animals and a definite love of dress.” She plucked at her frock. “Can there any good thing come out of Salzburg? My dear, you wait. If you like the look of me now, you’ll get up and walk at Brief.”

  “There spoke Old Harry,” said I: “but not Elizabeth.”

  She whipped her arm out of mine and started aside.

  “What ever d’you mean?”

  I set my hands on her shoulders and turned her round.

  “That you are a work of nature and she is a work of art. And you cannot play on her piano, and she cannot play on your pipe. I think you only did it to – to make me alter my focus and
see that you’re not the nonesuch I think you are. But it only upsets me, my lady, and doesn’t do any good. I know you’ve got failings – you must have, because you’re of flesh and blood: but you’re rather exceptional, – ‘The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be’. Well, you must let me admire you in my own way.”

  All right,” said Elizabeth, meekly. But don’t bring me garlands, Richard. I couldn’t bear that.

  “You wicked girl. You—”

  “That’s better. And there’s John coming. Say goodbye nicely. Quick.”

  She had put up her beautiful mouth, and I had stooped and kissed it before I knew where I was.

  So much for Old Harry’s counsel. So much for the voice within me that told me that she was right. So much for the knowledge that I was hastening to that terrible valley of torment, where hearts are broken in pieces and the light of the eyes is put out. Indeed, from that time on, so far as I was concerned, the future cared for itself. For me, the wind was with me, the tide was full; and though I knew I must shipwreck and could see that coast of iron upon which I must come to grief, I gloried in my present condition, found myself the favourite of Fortune and rejoiced as a giant to run my desperate course.

  Though I have not said as much, to please Elizabeth, Herrick and I had gone armed for exactly a week; and a pistol had been purchased for Winter, because we had only two. Approaching and leaving Raven, we used to sit with these drawn, for, if we were to be ambushed, the road which ran down to the farm especially favoured attack: and though, of course, it was clear that if we were fired upon, we should be hit or missed long before we could use our arms, by having them drawn we should at least be ready to make some sort of reply.

  It was half-past one in the morning before we once more entered this dangerous zone, and, remembering Old Harry’s words, I found myself thanking God that Elizabeth was not with us and would not have to run such a gauntlet again. Thus thinking upon the matter, I presently grew quite sure that we were to be attacked, and, since I was driving, I made Herrick take my pistol because; for once in a way, he had left his behind.

  He did so reluctantly.

  “And at what do I fire?” he said. “At the spot where the rude noise came from before I was plugged? Before I have time to reply, we must be out of range. I mean, that’s our only chance. We can come back after they’ve gone and have a smell round, but this is a place to come first to – or not at all.” As I slowed for the first of the bends, he continued ruefully. “Of course, I wasn’t meant to carry a gun. It spoils the set of my coat and all day long it gives me a series of shocks. And I think the swine likes warmth: if I don’t watch it, I find it nursing my groin… I hope to God Brenda’s all right. So as not to forget it, I left it out on my bed. Let’s hope she’s had the sense to leave it alone.”

  Winter lifted his voice.

  “I don’t think she’d touch it, sir. I showed her mine last night and I warned her off.”

  “Good,” said Herrick. “All the same, she’d have to touch it, if she was to make the bed…”

  Our alarms were without foundation.

  We were not fired upon, and Raven was fast asleep. And since we were very tired, we shared a bottle of beer and stumbled upstairs.

  I had put on my pyjamas, when Herrick opened my door.

  “What d’you make of this?” he said. “The firearm has gone.”

  “Gone?” said I, staring.

  “Gone,” said Herrick. “As I told you just now, I left it out on the bed. Well, the bed’s been made: so, of course, it had to be moved. But it’s not in the room.”

  “It must be,” said I. “You’ve missed it.”

  “Come and see,” said Herrick, and led the way.

  For full five minutes we sought it, and sought it in vain.

  At length —

  “Brenda must have it,” said I. “The thing’s not here.”

  “I don’t think that’s likely,” said Herrick, “in view of what Winter said. And yet I can hardly believe that Percy Elbert the Good would steal it away. And tell me another thing. Why do these crises arise, when one is so drunk with sleep that one can hardly stand up?”

  With that, he sank heavily down on the foot of his bed.

  As he did so a deafening explosion made me jump out of my skin, and, in one most frantic convulsion, Herrick leaped upward and outward, as though propelled by some spring.

  “My God,” said I, and ripped the quilt from the bed.

  Twelve inches from the foot of the bedstead, a broad-arrow ruck in the blanket declared that below the blanket something had moved.

  I turned to Herrick.

  “Are you all right?”

  His hands clapped fast to his seat —

  “Well, I’m still the same shape,” said Herrick, “if that’s what you mean: but you can’t sit down on a land-mine and be as good as you were.”

  Someone was running on the landing.

  Then Winter appeared in the doorway – and Brenda wide-eyed behind him, with one of her hands to her throat.

  “Nobody’s hurt,” said I. “Mr Herrick’s pistol went off. Where did you put it, Brenda? I mean, when you made the bed.”

  “On the chest of drawers, sir” – pointing.

  “I see,” said I. “And what time did you make the bed?”

  “At six o’clock, sir. As a rule I make it at nine: but, as you were out to dinner, I made it before.”

  “And then?”

  “I visited my cousins at Monein, and spent the evening with them.”

  “Well, that’s all right,” said I. “You go back to bed. Let your father and mother believe that we fired by mistake.”

  “I will do that,” said Brenda: “but please may I know the truth?”

  “It’s simple enough,” said I. “As soon as you’d left for Monein, somebody entered this house and came up to this room. They took Mr Herrick’s pistol, which you had laid over there, and put it into his bed. Before they put it in, they put down the safety catch. And they laid it with its mouth to the pillow – that ruck shows that: on firing, the pistol kicked and shifted towards the foot… Now they’ve very light triggers – these things. Mr Herrick touched it off by sitting on the edge of the bed. But if he’d got into his bed in the ordinary way, and had touched it off with his foot – as somebody meant him to do…”

  “I think,” said Brenda, quietly, “that the sooner that man is in jail, the better for all of us.”

  “I entirely agree,” said I: “but how can we prove he was here this afternoon? More. If he were asked his movements, I’ll wager that he could prove he was fifty miles off.”

  Herrick was inspecting the bed.

  “The muzzle,” he said, “is now pointing rather that way. If, therefore, we stand on this side and loosen the sheet…”

  We did so gingerly. Then we lifted the loose sheet and blanket, turned them over and let them fall clear of the bed.

  The weapon lay as he said,

  Between trigger-guard and trigger a piece of cork had been wedged, so that all the play of the trigger was taken up. It follows that the cork, which protruded beyond the guard about three-eighths of an inch, became the pistol’s hair trigger, the slightest touch upon which must certainly fire the thing off. Indeed, I shall always wonder how Percy Virgil – for, of course, it must have been he – had contrived to arrange the bedclothes without mishap, for when Herrick sat down on the bed, he did not sit down on the pistol by fully eight inches or more, yet the draw of the sheet on the cork had fired the weapon before he was fairly down.

  The sheets were scorched, and the path of the bullet was plain, for the under sheet was ripped and, when we had moved the pillows, there was a hole in the panel which made the head of the bed.

  “Thank you very much,” said Herrick. “Supposing I’d…got into bed. Fancy being drilled from below. You know, I’m afraid dear Percy must have a nasty mind.”

  Using great care, I picked up the pistol and put up the safety-catch. Then I f
reed the cork and laid the two in a drawer.

  “It’s our day out,” I said, “and Percy Virgil’s day in. I mean, he’s clean out of luck. This morning Elizabeth left her wristwatch behind.”

  “On the landing table,” cried Herrick, and clapped a hand to his mouth.

  “It’s all right,” I said. “He wasn’t here before six. And, as luck will have it, I saw it – at half-past five.”

  After so full a day and in view of what was to come, we were thankful to have a weekend with nothing to do: for all that, I must confess that, had I not been sure that the Duchess would be annoyed, I would have driven to Tracery every day – not to assure myself that my lady was safe, for of that I could have no doubt, but because I was mad to see her and hear her call me by name. Instead, I sat in the meadows and played with the dream which the Duchess of Whelp, in her wisdom, had taken away, which the Countess of Brief, in her sweetness, had given me back. And because I was foolish I wrote her a little note, which all the world might have read, which I posted myself at Gabble on Saturday afternoon.

  Here I should say that out of evil came good: the attempt upon Herrick’s life had cleared the air. We had thought it likely that some such attempt would be made, and, while we were not uneasy, our senses did constant duty against some surprise. But now the attempt had been made, and the danger was past – for Virgil would know that, whether he won or lost, his ‘throw’ could not be hidden or made out an accident, and so would be sure to give Raven a very wide berth.

  Herrick wrote to Old Harry on Saturday afternoon.

  MADAM,

  I have the honour to tell you that Exon and I reached Raven this morning at half-past one. And that, without incident, I am bound, however, to confess that my young and something downright companion, for whom I share Your Grace’s good-natured contempt, possesses an instinct which I would give much to enjoy. But I, of course, should turn it to good account. Approaching the farm, he smelt danger: he has since admitted so much. D’you think he could tell me so? D’you think he could make my brain free of this highly important fact? He preferred to withhold it, madam. He preferred to offend me – and, as you know, I am one of the mildest of men – by insisting upon precautions I could not take and by fidgeting in his seat – a vulgar practice, of which, I may say, I have spoken to him before. I have said he smelt danger, madam: but because we had not been killed on the road of approach, our friend dismissed the matter and pitched his precious instinct into the draught. And now listen to this. When I was changing yesterday afternoon, I laid on my bed a pistol – which I forgot to take up. Before retiring, I sought for this dangerous thing – at first, casually, and then, since it was not apparent, with an uneasy diligence. I mean, a loaded automatic is not like a bunch of sweet peas, and if I am to sleep with one, I like to know where it is. Madam, my desire was granted. I presently found the thing. I found it by the process of exhaustion: because I was so fatigued, I sat down on the edge of my bed. This very simple action caused it to fire itself off, for its trigger had been made very light – by someone who knew his job. It was, in fact, in the bed… Now beds are made to get into, and not to sit down upon. If, then, I had used that bed as beds are meant to be used, I should not now have the honour of writing to you, for the bullet passed through my bolster and split the panel beyond. All this I tell you, madam, because you were kind enough to charge me to care for my skin. It shows that your judgment was sound, and, it shows that, the bolt being shot, I have nothing to fear – at any rate before Tuesday, when we shall meet again. I propose to inform the police this same afternoon. Unless little Percy wore gloves, the pistol might well have yielded his horrible fingerprints: but Richard had pawed it all over before I had time to think. Not that I was deranged. My self-possession was bottomless. As for my companion, who was present when the outrage took place, his make-up is out of order. Things which would disconcert Caesar, appear to fortify him. For me, to be honest, the world had come to an end – my end. Before I had collected my wits, he had resolved the phenomenon and spiked the gun. I think he throws back to some one of those blockish knights, who could neither read nor write, but made history instead – and that, while wearing a suit which weighed ten or twelve stone. Probably he was born under a morning-star.