“Not more than usual, I think,” said Mrs. Dingley, with the philosophic calm of one who had lived through everything that could possibly happen to boys of all ages. “It’s something that has happened to the Head.”
“To Hugh?” Sydney, whose mind had been running on accidents, paled a little. “What has happened to him?”
“Oh, nothing serious,” explained Mrs. Dingley, whose ideas of seriousness included only major physical injury or death. “But—you know what we were talking about the other day? Well, the engagement is broken, my dear. He told George so this afternoon.”
“He told Geor—Mr. Dingley, I mean?”
“Yes. I suppose he felt he had to tell someone.”
“Someone,” thought Sydney, “who would pass on the information to me through the infallible channel of Mrs. Dingley.”
Aloud, she said, with what she felt to be hypocritical calm, “I wonder—why?”
“Why he told George, you mean?”
“No. Why the engagement was broken.”
“Well, if you ask me,” said Mrs. Dingley, who evidently intended to state her views whether anyone asked her or not, “he’s known for some time that he made a mistake.”
“A—mistake?” Sydney was startled, and could not hide the fact.
“Yes. She wouldn’t really have made a good headmaster’s wife, you know.” Mrs. Dingley pursed her lips and shook her head. “At first I thought she would because of that easy charm and apparent good nature and general air of ladylike dignity. But, underneath all that, she was unable, even unwilling, to see any point of view but her own. That always indicates a certain degree of stupidity and it means she would never have been able to get on with a variety of people, as a headmaster’s wife must.”
Sydney looked at Mrs. Dingley with unconcealed respect.
“I had no idea,” she said candidly, “that you saw so much in so short a time.”
Mrs. Dingley laughed good-naturedly.
“I’ve had to spend most of my adult life summing up boys and teachers and matrons and parents. There’s no training like it,” she declared. “I’m not sorry this engagement has been broken. It—clarifies the situation, in a manner of speaking.”
She did not offer to say exactly what she meant by that, and Sydney did not like to ask her. But presently she got up, remarking that, if Sydney were going to evening chapel, it was time she started. Then, with a friendly little nod she went out of the room, leaving Sydney to wonder if her shrewd judgment had really revealed to her any more of the situation than she had just admitted.
So Hugh was free! As Sydney, outwardly the calm and efficient matron, walked across the grounds to the School Chapel, she tried to take in this immense fact, and yet not to speculate too wildly on the implications it might have for her.
She sat at the back of the chapel trying to absorb some of the peace of the place, which even the presence of a couple of hundred boys could not disturb. But when Hugh came in it was hard to remain quiet and contemplative. She could only think how bright the evening sun was on his fair head and how strange it was that the shadow of Marcia had passed from the scene.
Nothing about him suggested that he had passed through an emotional crisis. His voice was as strong and calm as ever, his manner grave and authoritative. This, Sydney told herself, was self-control of a very high order. He was not an actor, like Lucas. He was not putting up a splendid show. He was subordinating his personal affairs to his public duty, and he could even hide the fact that he was doing so.
It must require a great deal of courage, Sydney thought, and wondered for a moment why her admiration lacked the last shade of enthusiasm.
Usually after chapel Hugh stayed to talk and stroll in the grounds with some of the masters and their wives. On occasions some of them even went across to his house to dine with him. But on this evening he had only the briefest word for the few who were near him when he came out of chapel. And then he departed to his own house, a tall, solitary figure that caught at Sydney’s heart.
Once or twice in the following week Sydney saw Hugh in company with others. But either he did not, or he could not, make an opportunity to speak to her alone. There was no real reason why he should, of course. Whatever he intended to do with regard to herself, tact and good taste demanded that there should be no unseemly hurry about it. Or so Sydney assured herself.
She felt indescribably restless, and as though the pattern of her life had been radically disturbed, without any signs of a fresh pattern taking shape. Not for the first time she longed for someone positive in whom she could confide.
Lucas Manning, Sydney supposed with a smile, would have been the best choice if he had been on the spot. At various times he and she had confided in each other to a quite astonishing degree. But he was away in London, and the problem which she wanted solved was right here in the heart of Fernhurst.
Self-discipline and a genuine interest in her work kept Sydney from showing too much of the restlessness which consumed her, but sometimes she felt she would have given anything just to get away. Right away from Fernhurst and Hugh and her work. Somewhere where she could take stock of all that had happened to her during the last few months, and rediscover the inner, essential Sydney which must have existed before she had been torn and buffeted and bemused by conflicting emotions.
This curious, almost claustrophobic desire for escape came to a head one warm spring afternoon when she unexpectedly had a free hour or two to herself. Outside the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and everywhere there was that indefinable impression that the sap was rising.
Sydney reached down a short white jacket and slipped it on. She was not quite sure where she intended to go. But she meant to get away somewhere on her own. Somewhere where she could think things out without fear of interruption and without any familiar, nostalgic associations to confuse the issue.
Everything was very quiet in Park House as she ran downstairs. But, as she reached the hall, there was a knock at the front door. Hoping profoundly that this was not an interruption that would spoil her plans, Sydney opened the door.
Outside stood Lucas Manning, hatless and smiling.
“Lucas!” She was so surprised and delighted that she seized his hand in both of hers! “I thought you were miles away in London. What brings you down here?”
“A variety of reasons.” He held her hand rather tightly in his and seemed pleased at his welcome. “For one thing, I’ve been engaged by young Curtis as assistant stage manager, if you remember. Also I need to see Lulworth about the line he’s to take with Anne. And finally, I realize now that I look at you, I very much wanted to see you.”
“Oh, how nice!” She laughed, with a degree of pleasure that surprised her. “Are you coming in?”
“Not if you’re going out. Can I drive you anywhere?”
“Oh—no. Not really.” The necessity for getting away from everything no longer seemed so pressing. “I had a free hour or two. I was just going out—anywhere. It’s not important.”
“Then, if you’re free, come for a run in the car with me.”
“I’d love to!”
She thought how infinitely pleasanter this would be than going away to brood on her own affairs; which was how her original intention now appeared to her. So they went out to the car together, and presently they were driving away from Fernhurst, past cottage gardens bright with late spring flowers, and fields which were misty with the green of shooting corn.
“Oh, it’s wonderful!” She relaxed with a long, luxurious sigh. “This was what I wanted.”
He glanced at her with an amusement not unmixed with a sort of tenderness.
“What, exactly, does ‘this’ comprise?” he enquired.
“Oh—peace and undemanding company and relaxation and escape from all the insoluable problems, just for a few hours.”
“My dear, I’m flattered if I represent all that,” he said. But he said it rather drily, and she guessed that he would have liked her to include a f
ew more exciting, if less worthy, ingredients.
She laughed.
“I know you think that sounds dull. It isn’t really. It’s the ideal antidote to the last week or so.”
“And what has happened in the last week or so?” he wanted to know.
“Hugh and Marcia broke their engagement, for one thing.”
“The devil they did!” The car swerved very slightly, but he righted it again. “And how does that affect your position?”
“Not at all, at the moment.”
“I don’t understand.” He pressed his lips together and looked rather sombre. “I thought the fellow was supposed to be wild for love of you.”
“I never said so! On the contrary, it was you who assured me of the fact,” retorted Sydney with some spirit. “I always knew he was still fond of me, but—”
“Well, we won’t argue about the degree of feeling. We’re agreed, I take it, that he’ll now ask you to marry him?”
“I—don’t know, Lucas.”
“Why did he break the engagement otherwise?” Lucas sounded faintly impatient. “How was it broken, incidentally? Do you know that?”
“There was a quarrel—I think.”
“About you?”
“Indirectly, yes. Marcia came in and found us talking quite peacefully about school matters. But I suppose she didn’t like to see us together in any circumstances, and she very foolishly lost her temper. She referred to the incident during half-term week-end—when she found me at your flat—and she made the most ridiculous and insulting insinuations—”
“Sydney! You promised to let me know if you had any further trouble over that.”
“It wasn’t necessary. Hugh defended me very effectively.”
“Lulworth? But he didn’t know anything about the occasion,” Lucas objected.
“He didn’t need to.” Sydney smiled again with pleasure at the recollection of that. “He said it was enough that he knew me, and that I was not capable of anything questionable.”
“Very faulty logic for a schoolmaster,” commented the famous actor-manager. “Few people are actually incapable of anything questionable, however well they may know Hugh Lulworth.”
“He meant,” Sydney said rather coldly, “that if I said I was in your flat for a perfectly innocent purpose, he knew me well enough to take my unsupported word.”
“Sorry.” Lucas flashed a boyishly contrite smile at her. “The full beauty of Hugh’s disposition always escapes me, somehow. What did Marcia say to that?”
“She was furious, and seemed to think that, in some way, he was taking my word against hers.”
“He was, my dear, he was,” Lucas Manning said.
“I meant—on equal terms. Of course, as he himself said, I was talking of facts and she was merely speaking on assumption. It ended by his telling me he was sorry the scene had occurred and that he wouldn’t keep me any longer.”
“Cleared the decks for the final row, in fact?”
“I—suppose so,” agreed Sydney, not much liking his way of putting it. “A few days later I heard the engagement was over.”
“Did you hear it from him?”
“Oh, no!”
“I don’t know why you need be shocked by the idea. If I’d been hooked up to the wrong girl and suddenly found myself free to marry the one I wanted, after all, I shouldn’t waste any time about telling her so.”
“But you and Hugh could hardly be more different,” said Sydney slowly.
There was a slight pause. Then Lucas said, “I know I’m putting my head into the lion’s mouth, but which of us was at a disadvantage in that silence?”
She looked, at him for a moment in surprise. Then she laughed suddenly.
“Oh, Lucas, I didn’t mean that as any disparagement to you! It’s just that you’re different. It would be natural for you to rush the next decision—”
“It would be natural to any man who was not a cold-hearted prig,” retorted Lucas Manning impatiently.
“How dare you call Hugh a cold-hearted prig!” cried Sydney, up in arms immediately.
“I didn’t actually call him one.”
“You implied it. And you had no right to do so.” Sydney spoke with an emphasis which surprised herself. “You don’t understand his position. His first duty is to see that nothing happens which would either disturb the boys or destroy the dignity of his position here.”
“A man who is very much in love doesn’t think about these things.”
“Of course he does! He may have to.” She didn’t know that she was rehearsing her arguments for herself as much as for Lucas Manning. “The break with Marcia was made without too much comment. But if he immediately asked someone on his own staff to marry him, you can’t imagine how much talk it would cause. You do see that, don’t you?”
“No,” said Lucas Manning obstinately, “I don’t. I only see that a man who is given a second chance to take his happiness is a damned fool if he hesitates about it.”
There was quite a long silence. Then she said quietly, “Then you mean that he probably doesn’t love me, after all?”
“Oh, lord, I’m sorry!” Suddenly Lucas Manning looked contrite and rather unhappy. “I didn’t really mean that at all. I suppose, in his way, he does love you. Personally, I think you deserve a better, warmer, tenderer way of being loved. But it’s not really my business. I was mad at the idea of his keeping you waiting after all the misery he’s put you through. I don’t follow all these academic arguments about the good of the school and not upsetting the boys. But if he is what you want, I hope you get him, my dear. Only don’t ask me to say that I think he deserves you.”
“Why, Lucas,” she laughed a little uncertainly, “I didn’t know you felt so strongly about it. You’re a darling to mind so much.”
“No, I’m not,” he said rather roughly. “You’ve minded enough about my affairs in your time.”
“Well, all right—it’s been mutual.” She leaned forward and patted one of his hands as it rested on the wheel. “And it’s a wonderful relief to have at least one good friend to whom one can pour out everything. You don’t know how much you’ve helped me today. I was all mixed up and didn’t know what I thought or hoped or felt. Now everything’s much clearer. And now, my dear Lucas, you must really drive me back,” she added, glancing at her watch. “It’s later than I thought.”
On the way back she asked him about Anne, and he explained rather briefly that he had seen her in company with her lawyer the previous week.
“She seems determined to press things to a court issue.” He frowned. “I’m not quite sure why. At one point I was certain that she didn’t actually want the children—that she was only using them as a pressure point. Now I’m not so sure.”
“And if she did really want them, would you be prepared to give them up?” Sydney asked anxiously.
“Certainly not. Not without a struggle, that is. I’ve known her too long and too well, Sydney. Nothing will convince me that the children would have a good and stable home with her.”
“But you’re a little afraid that she might make good her case in court?”
“Very much so.” He sighed impatiently. “A parent is always a preferred party, and quite rightly so, usually. In addition, she is no longer living out of this country and no other man is complicating her life. As between two parents, the decision might well go against her. But when the alternative is a bachelor uncle—” He broke off and shrugged. “It means lots of unwelcome publicity, if nothing worse. She’ll probably make me out to be a very undesirable character, in addition to everything else,” he added with a grin.
“Oh! Yes. She’s already told Marcia that you have a bad reputation with women. She brought that up in the grand accusation scene before Hugh.”
“Did she, by Jove? And did Hugh go bail for me as being incapable of anything questionable?” he wanted to know, with a good deal of amusement.
“No. But I did,” replied Sydney coolly.
“Oh,
my dear girl—” he laughed, half amused, half touched, she saw. “You don’t really know much about me in that respect, do you?”
“Enough,” said Sydney briefly. To which he replied, “You’re sweet.”
They arrived at Fernhurst before they could continue this part of the conversation further. And, as Lucas declared himself honor bound to interview Curtis that evening, he came into Park House with Sydney.
“You’re wanted on the telephone, Matron,” one of the maids told her as she entered the house. “Will you take the call here, on the extension?”
Sydney said she would, and while Lucas stood beside her in the sunlit hall, she picked up the receiver and said, “This is the matron of Park House.”
“Sydney,” Hugh’s voice replied, “I’m glad you’ve come in. I’d like you to help me handle this. What we rather feared in connection with the Manning children has happened. I’ve got their mother here now, and she insists on seeing them.”
“She—insists? Can’t you put her off?” Sydney was so taken aback at this new development that she quite overlooked the fact that she was speaking to Hugh personally for the first time since he had broken with Marcia.
“I’m afraid not. I’ve no real authority to do so. As their uncle isn’t available—”
“But he is,” Sydney exclaimed. “He’s here now. He was coming to talk to you about the situation anyway.”
There was a slight pause. Then Hugh said, “Very well. Ask him to come over right away. And if I haven’t telephoned to the contrary in a quarter of an hour, collect the two children and bring them over here.”
Sydney promised to do as he suggested. Then she replaced the receiver and turned to face Lucas.
“I suppose Anne is here,” he said before she could tell him anything.
She nodded.
“And she insists on seeing the children?”
“I’m afraid so. Will you go over to the Head’s house now? I’m to bring them later, unless Hugh telephones to the contrary.”
For a moment Lucas stood there, deep in thought, without replying. Then he squared his shoulders, as though he had taken some decision, and with only a brief nod to Sydney, went out of the house.
Yours to Command Page 14
