The Wicked Marquis

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER XXIX

  The Duchess walked with Letitia in the high-walled garden at Mandeleys,on the morning after her arrival. She appeared to be in a remarkablygood temper.

  "I have not the least intention of boring myself, my dear Letitia," shesaid, in reply to some conventional remark of her niece's. "So long asI get plenty of fresh air during the day, good plain food, and mybridge between tea and dinner, I am always contented. Let me see," shewent on, coming to a standstill and pointing with her stick to thelittle belt of tall elm trees and the fir plantation behind, "Broomleysis that way, isn't it? Yes, I can see the house."

  Letitia nodded, but only glanced in the direction her aunt indicated.

  "And Mr. Thain? Do you find him a pleasant neighbour?"

  Letitia looked deliberately the other way. It was just as well thather aunt should not see the flash in her eyes.

  "We do not see much of him," she replied. "He gallops round the parkevery day like a lunatic, and he spends a great deal of time, I think,in his car."

  "My dear," the Duchess said impressively, "David Thain may have hispeculiarities, but he is really a most simple and sincere person. Iwas attracted to him upon the steamer simply because of his shyness,and a good thing for you, dear, that I was. It must make quite adifference to have Broomleys properly let to a man who can pay a goodrent for it."

  "We have never denied that," Letitia admitted drily. "We are keepinghouse now upon the first quarter's rent."

  "Is it my fancy," her aunt continued, stooping to pick herself a sprigof lavender, "or do you really dislike Mr. Thain?"

  "Intensely!" Letitia confessed with emphasis.

  The Duchess was surprised.

  "Well, really!" she exclaimed. "And to me he seems such a harmless,inoffensive person, absolutely without self-consciousness and not inthe least bumptious."

  "What on earth has he to be bumptious about?" Letitia scoffed. "He hassimply made a lot of money out of other people."

  "That shows brains, at least," her aunt reminded her.

  "Cunning!" Letitia retorted.

  The Duchess twirled the sprig of lavender between her fingers. Shecould not remember ever to have heard her niece so much in earnest.

  "Well, I hope you don't feel too strongly about him," she said. "Imust have him asked to dinner while I am here."

  "We have anticipated your wishes," Letitia remarked. "He is comingto-night."

  "I am very glad to hear it," was the satisfied reply. "I shall do mybest to persuade him to come up to Scotland later on. There is nothingthat Henry enjoys more than a little flutter in American railways.Perhaps he will help us to make some money."

  "Personally," Letitia said slowly, "I should be very careful how Itrusted Mr. Thain."

  The Duchess was shocked.

  "You carry your aversions too far, my dear," she remonstrated.

  "Perhaps, I only know that he sold father a lot of shares which it ismy profound conviction are entirely worthless."

  "Sold your father shares?" the Duchess repeated. "I don't understand.How on earth could Reginald pay for any shares!"

  "He gave what is called an acceptance," Letitia explained. "It fallsdue in about six weeks."

  The Duchess smiled. She had a great idea of her own capacity forbusiness.

  "My dear," she said, "if between now and then the shares have notimproved sufficiently for your father to make a profitable sale, Mr.Thain can extend the time of payment by renewing the bill."

  "You have more confidence in Mr. Thain than I have," Letitia remarkeddrily.

  Her aunt was a little puzzled. She decided to change the conversation.

  "Where is Charles this morning?" she enquired.

  "In the library with father. They are discussing possible settlements.I thought that sort of thing was always left to lawyers."

  "I hope you are happier about your marriage than you seem," her auntobserved. "Charles is quite a _parti_, in a way, you know, although heis not rich."

  "Oh, I suppose it may as well be Charles as any one else," Letitiaassented, a little drearily.

  The Duchess shook her head.

  "You need a change, my dear," she declared. "I hate to hear you talklike that, especially as you are by way of being one of thosesingle-minded young persons who must find everything in marriage orelse be profoundly unhappy. I am not at all sure that you ought tohave considered the question of marriage until you were in love."

  "Thank you," Letitia retorted, "I have a horror of being an old maid."

  Her aunt sighed.

  "Now I come to think of it," she went on reminiscently, "there is acurious streak of fidelity, isn't there, in your father's character.You must take after him. It ought to make you very careful, Letitia.I don't want to say a word against Charles, but he doesn't carry hishead quite so high as you do, you know. When are you going to announceyour engagement?"

  "As soon as he leaves here, I think."

  "Hm! Is Charlie very much in love with you?"

  "If he is, he hasn't mentioned it," Letitia observed. "Nowadays, menseem to reserve that sort of protestation for their musical comedyfriends, and suggest a joint establishment, as a matter of mutualconvenience, to us."

  "Bitter, my dear--very bitter for your years!" her aunt sighed.

  "What would you like to do this morning?" Letitia asked, abruptlychanging the subject.

  "I shall amuse myself," was the prompt reply. "First of all, I amgoing to undertake a little mission on Reginald's account. I am goingover to talk to that ridiculous old man Vont. Afterwards, I shall walkacross to Broomleys."

  "Most improper!" Letitia remarked.

  "My dear," her aunt reminded her, "I am nearly forty years old,although no one in the world would guess it if it were not for thosewretched Court Guides. I look upon Mr. Thain as a sort of protege ofmine, and I have an idea that you are not being so nice to him as youmight be."

  "I do my best," Letitia replied, "and I really don't think he hasanything to complain of."

  The Duchess parted from her niece as they neared the house andproceeded to pay her first visit. She crossed the moat by the littlehandbridge, walked briskly across the intervening strip of park, andapproached the little enclosure in which the cottage was situated.Richard Vont, seated in his usual corner of the garden, remainedmotionless at her approach. He neither rose nor offered any sort ofgreeting.

  "Good morning, Vont," she said briskly, as she reached the paling.

  He was looking at her fixedly from underneath his bushy grey eyebrows.He sat bolt upright in his chair, and he kept his hat upon his head.

  "What do you want?" he demanded.

  "My good man," she remonstrated, "you might as well be civil. Whydon't you stand up and take off your hat? You know who I am."

  "Yes, I know who you are," he replied, without moving. "You areCaroline, Duchess of Winchester. I keep my hat upon my head because Iowe you no respect and I feel none. As to asking you in, no one ofyour family will ever, of my will, step inside these palings."

  "You are a very obstinate old man, Vont," she said severely.

  "I am what the Lord made me."

  "Well," she continued, leaning slightly against the paling and lookingdown at him, "I came down here to say a few words to you, and I shallsay them, unless you run away. You are one of those simple, ignorantmen, Vont, who love to nurse an imaginary injustice until the idea thatyou have been wronged becomes so fixed in your brain that you haven'troom for anything else there. This behaviour of yours, you know, isperfectly ridiculous."

  Vont made no sign even of having heard her. She continued.

  "You haven't even a grievance. My brother took your daughter away fromher home. Under some conditions, that would have been a veryreprehensible thing. As things turned out, it has been the making ofthe young woman. She has received a wonderful education, has beentaken abroad, and has been treated with respect and consideration byevery one. My brother has devoted a considerable p
ortion of hislifetime to ensuring her happiness. She is now a contented, clever,talented and respected woman. If she had remained here, she wouldprobably have become the wife-drudge of a farmer or a local tradesman.You are listening, Richard Vont?"

  "Yes, I am listening!"

  "If the Marquis had betrayed your daughter, taken her away and desertedher," she continued, "there might have been some justification for thistheatrical attitude of yours. Under the present circumstances, thereis none at all. Why don't you rid yourself of the idea, once for all,that you or your daughter have suffered any wrong? You've only a fewyears to live. Take up your work again. There is plenty to be donehere. Go and mix with your old friends and live like a reasonable man.This brooding attitude of yours is all out of date. Put your Bibleaway, light a pipe, and set to work and kill some of the rabbits. Thefarmers are always complaining."

  "You have a niece up yonder," Vont said, knitting his shaggy greyeyebrows and gazing steadfastly at his visitor, "a well-looking youngwoman, they say--Lady Letitia Thursford. Would you like her to livewith a man and not be married to him?"

  "Of course," the Duchess replied, "that is simply impertinent. If youare going to compare the doings of your very excellent yeomen stockwith the doings of the Thursfords, you are talking and thinking like afool. A few hundred years ago, it would have been your duty to haveoffered your womenkind to your master when you paid your rent. We havechanged all that, quite properly, but not all the socialists who everbreathed, or all the democratic teachings you may have imbibed inAmerica, can entitle you to talk of the Vonts and the Thursfords in thesame breath."

  The old man rose slowly to his feet. He leaned a little upon hisstick, and pointed to Mandeleys.

  "You are an ignorant, shameless woman," he said. "Get you home andread your Bible. If you want a last word to carry away with you, hereit is. My daughter was just as much to me as the young woman whowalked yonder with you in the garden is to her father. Let himremember that."

  "But, you foolish person," she expostulated, "Lady Letitia enjoys allthe advantages to which her station entitles her. Your daughter, witha mind and intelligence very much superior to her position, wasemployed in the miserable drudgery of teaching village children."

  "Honest work," he replied, "hurts no one, unless they are full ofsickly fancies. It's idleness that brings sin. They tell me you'venew creeds amongst those in your walk of life, and a new manner ofliving. Live as you will, then, but let others do the same. I standby the Book, and maybe, when your last days come, you will be sorry youcast it aside."

  "So far as I remember," she reminded him, "the chief teaching of thatBook is forgiveness."

  "Your memory fails you, then," he answered grimly, "for what the Bookpreaches is justice to poor and rich alike."

  The Duchess sighed. She was a good-hearted woman and full ofconfidence, but she recognised her limitations.

  "My good man," she said, "I shall not argue with you any more. Youwon't believe it, but you are simply narrow and pig-headed andobstinate, and you won't believe that there may be a grain of reason inanybody else's point of view but your own. Just look at yourself! Youcan't be more than sixty-five or so, and you might be a hundred! Yousit there nursing your grievance and thinking about it, while yourwhole life is running to seed. Why don't you get up and be a humanbeing? Send for your daughter to come down and look after you--she'dcome--and choke it all down. Put the Book away for a time, or read alittle more of the New Testament and a little less of the Old. Come,will you be sensible, and I'll come in and shake hands with you, andwe'll write your daughter together."

  Vont was still leaning on his stick. Save that his eyebrows were drawna little closer together, his expression was unchanged. Yet hisvisitor, though the sunshine was all around them, shivered.

  "Did he send you here?"

  "Of course not," she replied. "I came of my own accord. I rememberedthe days when you used to take me rabbiting and let me shoot a pheasantif there was no one about. You were a sensible, well-balanced manthen. I came, hoping to find that there was a little of the oldRichard Vont left in you."

  "There is just enough of the old Richard Vont left," he said, "to sendyou back to where you came from, with a message, if you care to carryit. Tell him--your brother, the Lord of Mandeleys--that I am notsitting here of idle purpose, that I don't hear the voices around mefor nothing, that I don't look day and night at Mandeleys for nothing.Tell him to make the most of the sun that shines to-day and the softbed he lies on to-night and the woman he kisses to-morrow, for he isvery close to the end. I am an old man, but I'm here to see the end.It has been promised."

  The Duchess, brimful of common sense and good humour, brave as a lionand ready of tongue as she was, felt a little giddy, and clung to therail as she crossed the little bridge over the moat. She looked backonly once. Richard Vont remained standing just as she had lefthim--grim, motionless, menacing.