Petticoat Rule

by Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy

  CHAPTER XVI

  STRANGERS

  And now she was alone.

  Torpor had left her; even that intensity of loathing had gone, whichfor the past half-hour had numbed her very senses and caused her tomove and speak like an irresponsible automaton. She felt as if she hadindeed seen and touched a filthy, evil reptile, but that for themoment it had gone out of her sight. Presently it would creep out ofits lair again, but by that time she would be prepared.

  She must be prepared; therefore she no longer shuddered at the horrorof it, but called her wits to her aid, her cool judgment and habitualquick mode of action, to combat the monster and render it powerless.

  She knew of course that the King would not allow himself to be put offwith vague promises. Within the two days' delay which she had asked ofhim he would begin to realize that she had only meant to temporise,and never had any intention of helping him in his nefarious schemes.Then he would begin to act for himself.

  Having understood that she meant to circumvent him if she could, hewas quite shrewd enough to devise some means of preventing thosetempting millions from eluding his grasp. Though he did not know atthe present moment where or how to lay his hands on Prince CharlesEdward and his friends, he knew that they would of necessity seek theloneliness of the west coast of Scotland.

  Vaguely that particular shore had always been spoken of in connectionwith any expedition for the succour of the unfortunate prince, andalthough the commissioning of ships was under the directadministration of the Comptrolleur-General of Finance, Louis, with theprospective millions dangling before him, could easily enough equip_Le Levantin_, and send her on a searching expedition without havingrecourse to State funds; whilst it was more than likely that CharlesEdward, wearied of waiting, and in hourly fear of detection andcapture, would be quite ready to trust himself and his friends to anyFrench ship that happened to come on his track, whether her captainbrought him a token from his friend or not.

  All this and more would occur to King Louis, of course, in the eventof her finally refusing him cooperation, or trying to put him offlonger than a few days. Just as she had thought it all out, visualizedhis mind, as it were, so these various plans would present themselvesto him sooner of later. It was a great thing to have gained two days.Forty-eight hours' start of that ignoble scheme would, she hoped,enable her to counteract it yet.

  So much for King Louis and his probable schemes! Now her own plans.

  To circumvent this awful treachery, to forestall it, that of coursehad become her task, and it should not be so difficult, given that twodays' start and some one whom she could trust.

  Plans now became a little clearer in her head; they seemed graduallyto disentangle themselves from a maze of irrelevant thoughts.

  _Le Monarque_ was ready to start at any moment. Captain Barre, hercommander, was the soul of honour. A messenger swift and sure andtrustworthy must ride to Le Havre forthwith with orders to the captainto set sail at once, to reach that lonely spot on the west coast ofScotland known only to herself and to her husband, where CharlesEdward Stuart and his friends were even now waiting for succour.

  The signet-ring--Lord Eglinton's--entrusted to Captain Barre shouldensure the fugitives' immediate confidence. There need be no delay,and with favourable wind and weather _Le Monarque_ should have thePrince and his friends on board her before _Le Levantin_ had been gotready to start.

  Then _Le Monarque_ should not return home direct; she should skirt theIrish coast and make for Brittany by a circuitous route; a grave delayperhaps, but still the risks of being intercepted must be minimised atall costs.

  A lonely village inland would afford shelter to the Young Pretenderand his adherents for a while, until arrangements could be made forthe final stage of their journey into safety--Austria, Spain, or anycountry in fact where Louis' treachery could not overtake them.

  It was a big comprehensive scheme, of course; one which must becarried to its completion in defiance of King Louis. It was never goodto incur the wrath of a Bourbon, and, unless the nation and theparliaments ranged themselves unequivocally on her side, it wouldprobably mean the sudden ending of her own and her husband's career,the finality of all her dreams. But to this she hardly gave athought.

  The project itself was not difficult of execution, provided she hadthe cooperation of a man whom she could absolutely trust. This was themost important detail in connection with her plans, and it alone couldensure their success.

  Her ally, whoever he might be, would have to start this very afternoonfor Le Havre, taking with him the orders for Captain Barre and thesignet ring which she would give him.

  There were one hundred and fifty leagues between Versailles and LeHavre as the crow flies, and Lydie was fully aware of the measure ofstrength and endurance which a forced ride across country and withoutdrawing rein would entail.

  It would mean long gallops at breakneck speed, whilst slowly thesummer's day yielded to the embrace of evening, and anon the glowingdusk paled and swooned into the arms of night. It would mean a swiftand secret start at the hour when the scorching afternoon sun had notyet lifted its numbing weight from the journeyman's limbs and stilllulled the brain of the student to drowsiness and the siesta; the hourwhen the luxurious idler was just waking from sleep, and the labourerout in the field stretched himself after the noonday rest.

  It would mean above all youth and enthusiasm; for Le Havre must bereached ere the rising sun brought the first blush of dawn on cliffs,and crags, and sea; _Le Monarque_ must set sail for Scotland ereFrance woke from her sleep.

  Twelve hours in the saddle, a good mount, the strength of a youngbullock, and the astuteness of a fox!

  Lydie still sat in the window embrasure, her eyes closed, her gracefulhead with its wealth of chestnut hair resting against the delicatecoloured cushions of her chair, her perfectly modelled arms bared tothe elbow lying listlessly in her lap, one hand holding the infamousletter, written by the Duke of Cumberland to King Louis. She herself apicture of thoughtful repose, statuesque and cool.

  It was characteristic of her whole personality that she sat thus quitecalmly, thinking out the details of her plan, apparently neitherflustered nor excited. The excitement was within, the desire to be upand doing, but she would have despised herself if she had been unableto conquer the outward expressions of her agitation, the longing towalk up and down, to tear up that ignoble letter, or to smash someinoffensive article that happened to be lying by.

  Her thoughts then could not have been so clear. She could not havevisualized the immediate future; the departure of _Le Monarque_ atdawn--Captain Barre receiving the signet-ring--that breakneck ride toLe Havre.

  Then gradually from out the rest of the picture one figure detacheditself from her mind--her husband.

  "Le petit Anglais," the friend of Charles Edward Stuart; weak,luxurious, tactless, but surely loyal.

  Lydie half smiled when the thought first took shape. She knew solittle of her husband. Just now, when she heard him condemn the King'streacherous proposals with such unequivocal words of contempt, she hadhalf despised him for this blundering want of diplomatic art. Manlikehe had been unable to disguise his loathing for Louis' perfidy, and bytrying to proclaim his loyalty to his friend, all but precipitatedthe catastrophe that would have delivered Charles Edward Stuart intothe hands of the English. But for Lydie's timely interference theKing, angered and huffed, would have departed then and there andmatured his own schemes before anything could be done to foil them.

  But with her feeling of good-natured disdain, there had even thenmingled a sensation of trust; this she recalled now when her mind wentin search of the man in whom she could confide. She would in any casehave to ask her husband for the token agreed on between him and theStuart Prince, and also for final directions as to the exact spotwhere the fugitives would be most surely found by Captain Barre.

  Then why should he not himself take both to Le Havre?

  Again she smiled at the thought. The idea had occurred to her that shedi
d not even know if milor could ride. And if perchance he did sit ahorse well, had he the physical strength, the necessary endurance, forthat flight across country, without a halt, with scarce a morsel offood on the way?

  She knew so little about him. Their lives had been spent apart. Onebrief year of wedded life, and they were more strange to one anotherthan even they had been before their marriage. He no doubt thought herhard and unfeminine, she of a truth deemed him weak and unmanly.

  Still there was no one else, and with her usual determination sheforced her well-schooled mind to dismiss all those thoughts of herhusband which were disparaging to him. She tried not to see him as shehad done a little while ago, giving himself over so readily to theartificial life of this Court of Versailles and its enervatingetiquette, yielding to the whispered flatteries of Irene deStainville, pandering to her vanity, admiring her femininity no doubtin direct contrast to his wife's more robust individuality.

  Afterward, whenever she thought the whole matter over, she never coulddescribe accurately the succession of events just as they occurred onthat morning. She seemed after a while to have roused herself from hermeditations, having fully made up her mind to carry her projectthrough from beginning to end, and with that infamous letter still inher hand she rose from her chair and walked across the vast audiencechamber, with the intention of going to her own study, there to thinkout quietly the final details of her plans.

  Her mind was of course intent on the Stuart Prince and his friends: on_Le Monarque_ and Captain Barre, and also very much now on herhusband; but she could never recollect subsequently at what precisemoment the actual voice of Lord Eglinton became mingled with herthoughts of him.

  Certain it is that, when in crossing the room she passed close to thethronelike bedstead, whereupon her strangely perturbed imaginationwilfully conjured up the picture of milor holding his court, with labelle Irene in a brilliant rose-coloured gown complacently receivinghis marked attentions, she suddenly heard him speak:

  "One second, I entreat you, Madame, if you can spare it!"

  Her own hand at the moment was on that gilded knob of the door,through which she had been about to pass. His voice came fromsomewhere close behind her.

  She turned slightly toward him, and saw him standing there, lookingvery fixedly at her, with a gaze which had something of entreaty init, and also an unexplainable subtle something which at first shecould not quite understand.

  "I was going to my study, milor," she said, a little taken aback, forshe certainly had not thought him in the room.

  "Therefore I must crave your indulgence if I intrude," he said simply.

  "Can I serve you in any way?"

  "Your ladyship is pleased to be gracious----"

  "Yes?"

  She was accustomed to his diffident manner and to his halting speech,which usually had the knack of irritating her. But just now she seemedinclined to be kind. She felt distinctly pleased that he was here. Toher keenly sensitive nature it seemed as if it had been her thoughtswhich had called to him, and that something in him responded to herwish that he should be the man to take her confidential message to thecommander of _Le Monarque_.

  Now his eyes dropped from her face and fixed themselves on the handwhich had fallen loosely to her side.

  "That paper which you hold, Madame----"

  "Yes?"

  "I pray you give it to me."

  "To you? Why?" she asked, as the encouraging smile suddenly vanishedfrom her face.

  "Because I cannot bear the sight of Mme. la Marquise d'Eglinton, mywife, sullying her fingers one second longer by contact with thisinfamy."

  He spoke very quietly, in that even, gentle, diffident voice of his,whilst his eyes once more riveted themselves on her face.

  Instinctively she clutched the letter tighter, and her whole figureseemed to stiffen as she looked at him full now, a deep frown betweenher eyes, her whole attitude suggestive of haughty surprise and oflofty contempt. There was dead silence in the vast room save for thecrackling of that paper, which to a keenly sensitive ear would havesuggested the idea that the dainty hand which held it was not assteady as its owner would have wished.

  It seemed suddenly as if with the speaking of a few words these twopeople, who had been almost strangers, had by a subtle process becomeantagonists, and were unconsciously measuring one another's strength,mistrustful of one another's hidden weapons. But already the woman wasprepared for a conflict of will, a contest for that hithertoundisputed mastery, which she vaguely feared was being attacked, andwhich she would not give up, be the cost of defence what it may,whilst the man was still diffident, still vaguely hopeful that shewould not fight, for his armour was vulnerable where hers was not, andshe owned certain weapons which he knew himself too weak to combat.

  "Therefore I proffer my request again, Madame," he said after a pause."That paper----"

  "A strong request, milor," said Lydie coldly.

  "It is more than a request, Madame."

  "A command perhaps?"

  He did not reply; obviously he had noted the sneer, for a very slightblush rose to his pale cheeks. Lydie, satisfied that the shaft hadgone home, paused awhile, just long enough to let the subtle poison ofher last words sink well in, then she resumed with calm indifference:

  "You will forgive me, milor, when I venture to call your attention tothe fact that hitherto I have considered myself to be the sole judgeand mentor of my own conduct."

  "Possibly this has worked very well in all matters, Madame," hereplied, quite unruffled by her sarcasm, "but in this instance you seeme compelled to ask you--reluctantly I admit--to give me that letterand then to vouchsafe me an explanation as to what you mean to do."

  "You will receive it in due course, milor," she said haughtily; "forthe moment I must ask you to excuse me. I am busy, and----"

  She was conscious of an overwhelming feeling of irritation at hisinterference and, fearing to betray it beyond the bounds of courtesy,she wished to go away. But now he deliberately placed his hand on theknob, and stood between her and the door.

  "Milor!" she protested.

  "Yes, I am afraid I am very clumsy, Madame," he said quite gently."Let us suppose that French good manners have never quite succeeded ingetting the best of my English boorishness. I know it is against everyrule of etiquette that I should stand between you and the door throughwhich you desire to pass, but I have humbly asked for an explanationand also for that letter, and I cannot allow your ladyship to go untilI have had it."

  "Allow?" she said, with a short mocking laugh. "Surely, milor, youwill not force me to refer to the compact to which you willinglysubscribed when you asked me to be your wife?"

  "'Tis not necessary, Madame, for I well remember it. I gave you apromise not to interfere with your life, such as you had chosen toorganize it. I promised to leave you free in thought, action, andconduct, just as you had been before you honoured me by consenting tobear my name."

  "Well, then, milor?" she asked.

  "This is a different matter, Mme. la Marquise," he replied calmly,"since it concerns mine own honour and that of my name. Of that honourI claim to be the principal guardian."

  Then as she seemed disinclined to vouchsafe a rejoinder he continued,with just a shade more vehemence in his tone:

  "The proposal which His Majesty placed before me awhile ago, that sameletter which you still hold in your hand, are such vile and noisomethings that actual contact with them is pollution. As I see you nowwith that infamous document between those fingers which I have had thehonour to kiss, it seems to me as if you were clutching a hideous andvenomous reptile, the very sight of which should have been loathsometo you, and from which I should have wished to see you turn as youwould from a slimy toad."

  "As you did yourself, milor?" she said with a contemptuous shrug ofthe shoulders, thinking of his blunder, of the catastrophe which heall but precipitated, and which her more calm diplomacy had perhapsaverted.

  "As I did, though no doubt very clumsily," he admitted sim
ply, "themoment I grasped its purport to the full. To see you, my wife--yes, mywife," he repeated with unusual firmness in answer to a subtle,indefinable expression which at his words had lit up her face, "to seeyou pause if only for one brief half hour with that infamy before youreyes, with that vile suggestion reaching and dwelling in your brainthe man who made it--be he King of France, I care not--kissing thosesame fingers which held the abominable thing, was unspeakably horriblein my sight; it brought real physical agony to every one of my senses.I endured it only for so long as etiquette demanded, hoping againsthope that every second which went by would witness your cry ofindignation, your contempt for that vile and execrable letter which,had you not interposed, I myself would have flung in the lying face ofthat kingly traitor. But you smiled at him in response; you took theletter from him! My God, I saw you put it in the bosom of your gown!"

  He paused a moment, as if ashamed of this outburst of passion, sodifferent to his usual impassiveness. It seemed as if her haughtylook, her ill-concealed contempt, was goading him on, beyond thebounds of restraint which he had meant to impose on himself. She nolonger now made an attempt to go. She was standing straight beforehim, leaning slightly back against the portiere--a curtain of rich,heavy silk of that subtle brilliant shade, 'twixt a scarlet and acrimson, which is only met with in certain species of geranium.

  Against this glowing background her slim, erect figure, stiff withunbendable pride, stood out in vivid relief. The red of the silk castardent reflections into her chestnut hair, and against the creamywhiteness of her neck and ear. The sober, almost conventual gray ofher gown, the primly folded kerchief at her throat, the billows oflace around the graceful arm formed an exquisite note of tender colouragainst that glaring geranium red. In one hand she still held theletter, the other rested firmly against the curtain. The head wasthrown back, the lips slightly parted and curled in disdain, theeyes--half veiled--looked at him through long fringed lashes.

  A picture worthy to inflame the passion of any man. Lord Eglinton,with a mechanical movement of the hand across his forehead, seemed tobrush away some painful and persistent thought.

  "Nay, do not pause, milor," she said quietly. "Believe me, youinterest me vastly."

  He frowned and bit his lip.

  "Your pardon, Madame," he rejoined more calmly now. "I was forgettingthe limits of courtly manners. I have little more to say. I would nothave troubled you with so much talk, knowing that my feeling in suchmatters can have no interest for your ladyship. When awhile ago thisgreat bare room was at last free from the bent-backed, mouthingflatterers that surround you, I waited patiently for a spontaneousword from you, something to tell me that the honour of my name, one ofthe oldest in England, was not like to be stained by contact with thediplomatic by-ways of France. I had not then thought of asking for anexplanation; I waited for you to speak. Instead of which I saw youtake that miserable letter once more in your hand, sit and ponder overit without a thought or look for me. I saw your face, serene andplacid, your attitude one of statesmanlike calm, as without a word ornod you prepared to pass out of my sight."

  "Then you thought fit to demand from me an explanation of my conductin a matter in which you swore most solemnly a year ago that you wouldnever interfere?"

  "Demand is a great word, Madame," he said, now quite gently. "I donot demand; I ask for an explanation on my knees."

  And just as he had done a year ago when first she laid her hand in hisand he made his profession of faith, he dropped on one knee and benthis head, until his aching brow almost touched her gown.

  She looked down on him from the altitude of her domineering pride; shesaw his broad shoulders, bent in perfect humility, his chestnut hairfree from the conventional powder, the slender hands linked togethernow in a strangely nervous clasp, and she drew back because her skirtseemed perilously near his fingers.

  Will the gods ever reveal the secret of a woman's heart? Lydie loathedthe King's proposal, the letter which she held, just as much as LordEglinton did himself. Awhile ago she had hardly been able to think orto act coherently while she felt the contact of that noisome paperagainst her flesh. If she had smiled on Louis, if she had taken theletter away from him with vague promises that she would think thematter over, it had been solely because she knew the man with whom shehad to deal better than did milor Eglinton, who had but littleexperience of the Court of Versailles, since he had kept away from itduring the major part of his life. She had only meant to temporizewith the King, because she felt sure that that was the only way toserve the Stuart Prince and to avert the treachery.

  Nay, more, in her heart she felt that milor was right; she knew thatwhen a thing is so vile and so abominable as Louis' proposed scheme,all contact with it _is_ a pollution, and that it is impossible tofinger slimy mud without some of it clinging to flesh or gown.

  Yet with all that in her mind, a subtle perversity seemed suddenly tohave crept into her heart, a perversity and also a bitter sense ofinjustice. She and her husband had been utter strangers since the dayof their marriage, she had excluded him from her counsels, just as shehad done from her heart and mind. She had never tried to understandhim, and merely fostered that mild contempt which his diffidence andhis meekness had originally roused in her. Yet at this moment when heso obviously misunderstood her, when he thought that her attitude withregard to the King's proposals was one of acceptance, or at least notof complete condemnation, her pride rose in violent revolt.

  He had no right to think her so base. He had invaded her thoughts atthe very moment when they dwelt on his friend and the best mode tosave him; nay, more, was she not proposing to associate him, who nowaccused her so groundlessly, with her work of devotion and loyalty?

  He should have known, he should have guessed, and now she hated himfor his thoughts of her; she who had kept herself untainted in themidst of the worst corruption that ever infested a Court, whose purityof motives, whose upright judgments had procured her countless enemiesamongst the imbecile and the infamous, she to be asked and begged tobe loyal and to despise treachery!

  Nay, she was too proud now to explain. An explanation would seem likea surrender, an acknowledgment--_par Dieu_ of what? and certainly ahumiliation.

  According to milor, her husband, was there not one single upright andloyal soul in France except his own? No honour save that of his ownname?

  She laughed suddenly, laughed loudly and long. Manlike, he did notnotice the forced ring of that merriment. He had blundered, of course,but this he did not know. In the simplicity of his heart he thoughtthat she would have been ready to understand, that she would haveexplained and then agreed with him as to the best means of throwingthe nefarious proposal back into the King's teeth.

  At her laugh he sprang to his feet; every drop of blood seemed to haveleft his cheeks, which were now ashy pale.

  "Nay, milor," she said with biting sarcasm, "but 'tis a mountain fullof surprises that you display before my astonished fancy. Who had e'ersuspected you of so much eloquence? I vow I do not understand how yourlordship could have seen so much of my doings just now, seeing that atthat moment you had eyes and ears only for Irene de Stainville."

  "Mme. de Stainville hath naught to do with the present matter,Madame," he rejoined, "nor with my request for an explanation fromyou."

  "I refuse to give it, milor," she said proudly, "and as I have no wishto spoil or mar your pleasures, so do I pray you to remember our bond,which is that you leave me free to act and speak, aye, and to guidethe destinies of France if she have need of me, without interferencefrom you."

  And with that refinement of cruelty of which a woman's heart issometimes capable at moments of acute crises, she carefully folded theEnglish letter and once more slipped it into the bosom of her gown.She vouchsafed him no other look, but gathering her skirts round hershe turned and left him. Calm and erect she walked the whole length ofthe room and then passed through another doorway finally out of hissight.

  PART III

  THE WOMAN