CHAPTER XXIX
"You spoke, my dear Lucille," the Duchess of Dorset said, "of yourdeparture. Is not that a little premature?"
Lucille shrugged her beautiful shoulders, and leaned back in hercorner of the couch with half-closed eyes. The Duchess, who was veryAnglo-Saxon, was an easy person to read, and Lucille was anxious to knowher fate.
"Why premature?" she asked. "I was sent for to use my influence withReginald Brott. Well, I did my best, and I believe that for days itwas just a chance whether I did not succeed. However, as it happened,I failed. One of his friends came and pulled him away just as he waswavering. He has declared himself now once and for all. After his speechat Glasgow he cannot draw back. I was brought all the way from America,and I want to go back to my husband."
The Duchess pursed her lips.
"When one has the honour, my dear," she said, "of belonging to sowonderful an organisation as this we must not consider too closely theselfish claims of family. I am sure that years ago I should have laughedat any one who had told me that I, Georgina Croxton, should ever belongto such a thing as a secret society, even though it had some connectionwith so harmless and excellent an organisation as the Primrose League."
"It does seem remarkable," Lucille murmured.
"But look what terrible times have come upon us," the Duchess continued,without heeding the interruption. "When I was a girl a Radical was aperson absolutely without consideration. Now all our great cities arehot-beds of Socialism and--and anarchism. The whole country seems bandedtogether against the aristocracy and the landowners. Combination amongstus became absolutely necessary in some shape or form. When the Princecame and began to drop hints about the way the spread of Socialism hadbeen checked in Hungary and Austria, and even Germany, I was interestedfrom the first. And when he went further, and spoke of the Society, itwas I who persuaded Dorset to join. Dear man, he is very earnest, butvery slow, and very averse to anything at all secretive. I am sure thereflection that he is a member of a secret society, even although itis simply a linking together of the aristocracy of Europe in their owndefence, has kept him awake for many a night."
Lucille was a little bored.
"The Society," she said, "is an admirable one enough, but just now I ambeginning to feel it a little exacting. I think that the Prince expectsa good deal of one. I shall certainly ask for my release to-night."
The Duchess looked doubtful.
"Release!" she repeated. "Come, is that not rather an exaggeratedexpression? I trust that your stay at Dorset House has not in any waysuggested an imprisonment."
"On the contrary," Lucille answered; "you and the Duke have been mostkind. But you must remember that I have home of my own--and a husband ofmy own."
"I have no doubt," the Duchess said, "that you will be able to returnto them some day. But you must not be impatient. I do not think that thePrince has given up all hopes of Reginald Brott yet."
Lucille was silent. So her emancipation was to be postponed. After all,it was what she had feared. She sat watching idly the Duchess's knittingneedles. Lady Carey came sweeping in, wonderful in a black velvet gownand a display of jewels almost barbaric.
"On my way to the opera," she announced. "The Maddersons sent me theirbox. Will any of you good people come? What do you say, Lucille?"
Lucille shook her head.
"My toilette is deficient," she said; "and besides, I am staying at hometo see the Prince. We expect him this evening."
"You'll probably be disappointed then," Lady Carey remarked, "for he'sgoing to join us at the opera. Run and change your gown. I'll wait."
"Are you sure that the Prince will be there?" Lucille asked.
"Certain."
"Then I will come," she said, "if the Duchess will excuse me."
The Duchess and Lady Carey were left alone for a few minutes. The formerput down her knitting.
"Why do we keep that woman here," she asked, "now that Brott has brokenaway from her altogether?"
Lady Carey laughed meaningly.
"Better ask the Prince," she remarked.
The Duchess frowned.
"My dear Muriel," she said, "I think that you are wrong to make suchinsinuations. I am sure that the Prince is too much devoted to our causeto allow any personal considerations to intervene."
Lady Carey yawned.
"Rats!" she exclaimed.
The Duchess took up her knitting, and went on with it without remark.Lady Carey burst out laughing.
"Don't look so shocked," she exclaimed. "It's funny. I can't help beinga bit slangy. You do take everything so seriously. Of course you can seethat the Prince is waiting to make a fool of himself over Lucille. Hehas been trying more or less all his life."
"He may admire her," the Duchess said. "I am sure that he would notallow that to influence him in his present position. By the bye, she isanxious to leave us now that the Brott affair is over. Do you think thatthe Prince will agree?"
Lady Carey's face hardened.
"I am sure that he will not," she said coolly. "There are reasons whyshe may not at present be allowed to rejoin her husband."
The Duchess used her needles briskly.
"For my part," she said, "I can see no object in keeping her here anylonger. Mr. Brott has shown himself quite capable of keeping her atarm's length. I cannot see what further use she is."
Lady Carey heard the flutter of skirts outside and rose.
"There are wheels within wheels," she remarked. "My dear Lucille, whata charming toilette. We shall have the lady journalists besieging usin our box. Paquin, of course. Good-night, Duchess. Glad to see you'regetting on with the socks, or stockings, do you call them?"
Insolent aristocratic, now and then attractive in some strangesuggestive way, Lady Carey sat in front of the box and exchangedgreetings with her friends. Presently the Prince came in and took thechair between the two women. Lady Carey greeted him with a nod.
"Here's Lucille dying to return to her lawful husband," she remarked."Odd thing, isn't it? Most of the married women I ever knew are dyingto get away from theirs. You can make her happy or miserable in a fewmoments."
The Prince leaned over between them, but he looked only at Lucille.
"I wish that I could," he murmured. "I wish that that were within mypower."
"It is," she answered coolly. "Muriel is quite right. I am most anxiousto return to my husband."
The Prince said nothing. Lady Carey, glancing towards him at thatmoment, was surprised at certain signs of disquietude in his face whichstartled her.
"What is the matter with you?" she asked almost roughly.
"Matter with me? Nothing," he answered. "Why this unaccustomedsolicitude?"
Lady Carey looked into his face fiercely. He was pale, and there wasa strained look about his eyes. He seemed, too, to be listening. Fromoutside in the street came faintly to their ears the cry of a newsboy.
"Get me an evening paper," she whispered in his ear.
He got up and left the box. Lucille was watching the people below andhad not appreciated the significance of what had been passing betweenthe two. Lady Carey leaned back in the box with half-closed eyes. Herfingers were clenched nervously together, her bosom was rising andfalling quickly. If he had dared to defy her! What was it the newsboyswere calling? What a jargon! Why did not Saxe Leinitzer return?Perhaps he was afraid! Her heart stood still for a moment, and a littlehalf-stifled cry broke from her lips. Lucille looked around quickly.
"What is the matter, Muriel?" she asked. "Are you faint?"
"Faint, no," Lady Carey answered roughly. "I'm quite well. Don't takeany notice of me. Do you hear? Don't look at me."
Lucille obeyed. Lady Carey sat quite still with her hand pressed to herside. It was a stifling pain. She was sure that she had heard atlast. "Sudden death of a visitor at the Carlton Hotel." The place wasbeginning to go round.
Saxe Leinitzer returned. His face to her seemed positively ghastly. Hecarried an evening paper in his hand. She snatched it a
way from him. Itwas there before her in bold, black letters:
"Sudden death in the Carlton Hotel."
Her eyes, dim a moment ago, suddenly blazed fire upon him.
"It shall be a life for a life," she whispered. "If you have killed himyou shall die."
Lucille looked at them bewildered. And just then came a sharp tap at thebox door. No one answered it, but the door was softly opened. Mr. Sabinstood upon the threshold.
"Pray, don't let me disturb you," he said. "I was unable to refrain frompaying you a brief visit. Why, Prince, Lady Carey! I can assure you thatI am no ghost."
He glanced from one to the other with a delicate smile of mockeryparting his thin lips. For upon the Prince's forehead the perspirationstood out like beads, and he shrank away from Mr. Sabin as from someunholy thing. Lady Carey had fallen back across her chair. Her hand wasstill pressed to her side, and her face was very pale. A nervous littlelaugh broke from her lips.
The Yellow Crayon Page 29
