The Independence of Claire

by Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

  SURRENDER.

  It was a very limp and exhausted Claire who arrived at the farm thatevening, and if she had had her own way she would have hurried to bedwithout waiting for a meal, but the kind countrywoman displayed suchdisappointment at the idea that she allowed herself to be dissuaded, satdown to a table spread with home-made dainties and discovered that shewas hungrier than she had believed. The fried ham and eggs, the freshbutter, the thick yellow cream, the sweet coarse bread, were all thebest of their kind, and Claire smiled at her own expense as she lookedat the emptied dishes, and reflected that, for a person who hadprofessed herself unable to eat a bite, she had made a pretty goodsweep!

  The bed was somewhat bumpy, as farmhouse beds have a habit of being;there was one big ball in especial which took many wrigglings to avoid;but on the other hand the sheets smelt deliciously, not of lavender, butof lemon thyme, and the prevailing air of cleanliness was deliciousafter the smoke-laden atmosphere of town. Claire told herself that shecould not expect to sleep. She resigned herself to hear the clockstrike every hour--and as a matter of fact after ten o'clock she wasunconscious of the whole world, until her breakfast-tray was carriedinto the room next morning.

  After breakfast she had another nap, and after lunch still another, andin the intervals wandered about the farm-yard, laboriously striving totake an interest in what really interested her not at all. Hens seemedto her the dullest of created creatures, pigs repelled, cows wereregarded with uneasy suspicion, and sheep, seen close at hand, lost allthe picturesque quality of a distant flock, and became stupid long-facedcreatures, by no means as clean as they might be. Milking-time arousedno ambition to experiment on her own account, and a glass of foaming newmilk proved unexpectedly nauseous. Sad as it was to confess it, sheinfinitely preferred the chalked and watered edition of the city!

  Indoors things were no better, for the tiny sitting-room stood by itselfat the end of a passage, cut off from the life of the house. It wasspotlessly clean and the pride of its owner's heart, but containednothing of interest to an outsider. Pictures there were none, with theexception of portraits of the farmer and his wife, of the enlargedphotograph type, and a selection of framed funeral cards in a corner.Books there were none, with the exception of a catalogue of anAgricultural Show, and a school prize copy of _Black Beauty_. Beforethe second night was over Claire had read _Black Beauty_ from cover tocover; the next morning she was dipping into the catalogue, and tryingto concentrate her attention on "stock."

  As her body grew rested, Claire's mind became increasingly active. Itwas inevitable, but the second stage was infinitely harder to bear. Forthe first hours after her arrival her supreme longing had been to liedown and shut her eyes; but now restlessness overtook her, and withevery fresh hour drove her more helplessly to and fro. She went out forlong walks over the countryside, her thoughts so engrossingly turnedinward that she saw nothing of the landscape on either hand; shereturned to the house and endeavoured to write, to read, to sew, only togive up the attempt at the end of half an hour, and once more wanderhelplessly forth.

  The good countrywoman was quick to sense that some hidden trouble waspreying on her guest, and showed her sympathy in practical fashion.

  "A bit piney-like, aren't you? I seed from the first that you waspiney-like," she said, standing tray in hand on the threshold of thelittle parlour, her fresh, highly-coloured face smiling kindly upon thepale girl. "I always do say that I pities ladies when they has anythingon their minds; sitting about, same as you do now, with nothing to takethem off theirselves. A body like me that has to keep a house clean,and cook and wash, and mind the children, to say naught of the sewingand the mending, and looking after the cows and the hens, and all theextra fusses and worries that come along, she hasn't got no time toremember herself, and when she gets to bed she's too tired to think.Now if you was to have some work--"

  Claire's face brightened with a sudden inspiration.

  "Will you give me some work? Let me help _you_! Do, please, MrsCorby; I'd be so grateful. Let me come into the kitchen and dosomething now. I feel so lonely shut off here, all by myself."

  Mrs Corby laughed, her fat comfortable laugh.

  "Bless your 'art, you can come along and welcome. I'll be proud to haveyou. It ain't much you know of housework, I expect, but it'll do you noharm to learn. I'll find you some little jobs."

  "Oh, I'm not so useless as you think. I can brush and dust, and polish,and wash up, and I know a good deal about cooking. I'll make a salad toeat with the cold meat--a real French salad. I'm sure Mr Corby wouldenjoy a French salad," cried Claire, glancing out of the window at thewell-stocked kitchen garden, and thinking of the wet lettuce and uncutonions, which were the good woman's idea of the dish in question. "MayI make one to-day?"

  Mrs Corby smiled with a fine resignation. Personally she wanted noneof them nasty messy foods, but there! the poor thing meant well, and ifit would make her happy, let her have her way. So Claire collected hermaterials, and washed and mixed, and filled a great bowl, and decoratedthe top with slices of hardboiled eggs, and a few bright nasturtiumblossoms, while three linty-locked children stood by, watching withfascinated attention. At dinner Claire thoroughly enjoyed her share ofher own salad, but the verdict of the country-people was far fromenthusiastic.

  "I don't go for to deny that it tasted well enough," Mrs Corby saidwith magnanimous candour, "but what I argue is, what's the sense ofusing up all them extras--eggs, and oil, and what not--when you canmanage just as well without? I've never seen the day when I couldn'trelish a bit o' plain lettuce and a plate of good spring onions!"

  "But the eggs and the dressing make it more nourishing," Clairemaintained. "In France the peasants have very often nothing but saladfor their dinner--great dishes of salad, with plenty of eggs."

  "Eh, poor creatures! It makes your heart bleed to think of it. We maybe thankful we are not foreign born!" Mrs Corby pronounced withunction, and Claire retired from the struggle, and decided that for thefuture it would be more tactful to learn, rather than to endeavour toteach. The next morning, therefore, she worked under Mrs Corby'ssupervision, picking fruit, feeding chickens, searching for eggs, andother light tasks designed to keep her in the open air; and in theafternoon accompanied the children on a message to a farm some distanceaway. The path lay across the fields, away from the main road, and onreturning an hour later, Mrs Corby's figure was seen standing by herown gate, her hand raised to her eyes, as though watching for theirapproach. The children broke into a run, and Claire hurried forward,her heart beating with deep excited throbs. What was it? _Who_ was it?Nobody but Sophie and Cecil knew her address, but still, but still--For a moment hope soared, then sank heavily down as Mrs Corbyannounced--

  "A lady, miss. Come to see you almost as soon as you left. She'swaiting in the parlour."

  Cecil! Claire hardly knew if she were sorry or relieved. It would be ablessing to have some one to whom she could speak, but, on the otherhand, what poor Cecil had to say would not fail to be depressing. Shewent slowly down the passage, taking a grip over her own courage, openedthe door, and stood transfixed.

  In the middle of the hard horsehair sofa sat Mrs Fanshawe herself, herelaborately coiffured, elaborately attired figure lookingextraordinarily out of place in the prim bareness of the little room.Her gloved hands were crossed on her lap, she sat ostentatiously erect,her satin cloak falling around her in regal folds; her face was a triflepaler than usual, but the mocking light shone in her eyes. At Claire'sentrance she stood up, and crossed the little room to her side.

  "My dear," she said calmly, "I am an obstinate old woman, but I have thesense to know when I'm beaten. I have come to offer my apologies."

  A generous heart is quick to forgive. At that moment Claire felt a pangindeed, but it came not from the remembrance of her own wrongs, but fromthe sight of this proud, domineering woman humbling herself to a girl.Impulsively she threw out both hands, impuls
ively she stopped MrsFanshawe's lips with the kiss which she had refused at parting.

  "Oh, stop! Please don't! Don't say any more. I was wrong, too. Itook offence too quickly. You were thinking of me, as well as ofyourself."

  "Oh, no, I was not," the elder woman corrected quietly. "Neither ofyou, nor your friend, my dear, though I took advantage of the excuse.You came between me and my plans, and I wanted to get you out of theway. You saw through me, and I suppose I deserved to be seen through.It's an unpleasant experience, but if it's any satisfaction to you toknow it, I've been _well_ punished for interfering. Erskine has seen tomy punishment."

  The blood rushed to Claire's face. How much did Mrs Fanshawe know?Had Erskine told her of that hurried interview upon the station? Had heby any possibility told what he had _asked_? The blazing cheeks askedthe question as plainly as any words, and Mrs Fanshawe replied to itwithout delay.

  "Oh, yes, my dear, I know all about it. It was because I guessed thatwas coming that I wanted to clear the coast; but it appears that I wastoo late. Shall we sit down and talk this out, and for pity's sake seethat that woman doesn't come blundering in. It's such an anti-climax tohave to deal with a tea-tray in the midst of personal explanations. I'mnot accustomed to eating humble pie, and if I am obliged to do it atall, I prefer to do it in private."

  "She won't come. I don't have tea for another hour," Claire assuredher. "And please don't eat humble pie for me. I was angry at the time,but you had been very kind to me before. I--I enjoyed that first weekvery much."

  "And so did I!" Mrs Fanshawe gave one of her dry, humorous, littlelaughs. "You are a charming companion, my dear. I was a little in lovewith you myself, but-- Well! to be honest, it did not please me that myson should follow my example. He is my only child, and I am proud andambitious for him, as any mother would be. I did not wish him to marrya--a--"

  "A gentlewoman who was honourably working at an honourable profession!"concluded Claire for her, with a general stiffening of pose, voice andmanner; but Mrs Fanshawe only laughed once more, totally unaffected bythe pose.

  "No, my dear, I did not! It's very praiseworthy, no doubt, to train thenext generation, but it doesn't appeal to me in the present connection.I was thinking of my son, and I wanted him to have a wife of positionand fortune, who would be able to help his career. If you had been agirl of fortune and position, I should have been quite ready to welcomeyou. You are a pretty creature, and much more intelligent than mostgirls of your age, but, you see, you are not--"

  "I have no money but what I earn, but I belong to a good family. Iobject to your saying that I have no position, Mrs Fanshawe, simplybecause I live in lodgings and work for my living!"

  Mrs Fanshawe shrugged with a touch of impatience.

  "Oh, well, my dear, why bandy words? I have told you that I am beaten,so it's useless to argue the point. Erskine has decided for himself,and, as I told you before, one might as well try to bend a granite wallas move him when he has once made up his mind. I've planned, andschemed, and hoped, and prayed for the last dozen years, and at thefirst sight of that pretty face of yours all my plans went to the wall.If I'd been a wise woman I would have recognised the inevitable, andgiven in with a good grace, but I never was wise, never shall be, so Iran my head up against the wall. I've been through a bad time since youleft me, my dear, and I was forgiven only on the understanding that Icame here and made my peace with you. Have I made peace? Do youunderstand what I mean? That I withdraw my opposition, and if youaccept my boy, you shall have nothing to fear. I'll make you welcome;and I'll be as good to you as it's in my nature to be. I'll treat youwith every courtesy. Upon my word, my dear, as mothers-in-law go, Ithink you would come off pretty well!"

  "I--I--I'm sure--You're very kind..." Claire stammered in helplessembarrassment; and Mrs Fanshawe, watching her, first smiled, thensighed, and said in a quick low voice--

  "Ah, my dear, you can afford to be generous! If you live to be my age,and have a son of your own, whom you have loved, and cherished, andmothered for over thirty years, and at the end he speaks harshly to youfor the sake of a girl whom he has known a few short months, puts herbefore you, finds it hard to forgive you because you have wounded herpride--ah, well, it's hard to bear! I don't want to whine, but--don'tmake it more difficult for me than you can help! I have apologised.Now it's for you--"

  Claire put both arms round the erect figure, and rested her head on thefolds of the black satin cloak. Neither spoke, but Mrs Fanshawe lifteda little lace-edged handkerchief to her eyes, and her shoulders heavedonce and again. Then suddenly she arose and walked towards the door.

  "The car is waiting. Don't come with me, my dear. I'll see you again."

  She waived Claire back in the old imperious way against which there wasno appeal. Evidently she wished to be alone, and Claire re-seatedherself on the sofa, flushed, trembling, so shaken out of her bearingsthat it was difficult to keep hold of connected thought. The impossiblehad happened. In the course of a few short minutes difficulties whichhad seemed insurmountable had been swept from her path. Within hergrasp was happiness so great, so dazzling that the very thought of ittook away her breath.

  Her eyes fell on the watch at her wrist. Ten minutes to four! Twentyminutes ago--barely twenty minutes--at the end of the field path she hadlooked at that little gold face with a dreamy indifference, wonderingonly how many minutes remained to be whiled away before it was time fortea. Even a solitary tea-drinking had seemed an epoch in the uneventfulday. Uneventful! Claire mentally repeated the word, the while her eyesglowed, and her heart beat in joyful exultation. Surely, surely inafter-remembrance this day would stand out as one all-important, epoch-making.

  And then suddenly came a breathless question. How had Mrs Fanshawediscovered her retreat? No address had been left at Laburnum Crescent;no address had been given to Janet Willoughby. Cecil was in hermother's home; Sophie in hospital. In the name of all that wasmysterious and inexplicable, _how had she been tracked_?

  Claire sat bolt upright on her sofa, her grey eyes widened in amaze, herbreath coming sharply through her parted lips. She thrilled at therealisation that Erskine's will had overcome all difficulties. Had notMrs Fanshawe declared that she came at his instigation? And where themother had come, would not the son follow?

  At that moment a shadow fell across the floor; against the open space ofthe window a tall figure stood, blocking the light. Erskine's eagereyes met her own. Before the first gasp of surprise had left her lips,his strong hands had gripped the sill, he had vaulted over and stood byher side.

  "I sent on my advance guard, and waited till her return. Did you thinkyou had hidden yourself where I could not find you? I should have foundyou wherever you had gone; but as it happens it was easy enough. Youforgot that you had forwarded flowers to your friend in hospital! Shewas ready enough to give me your address. And now--_Claire_"--he heldout his hands, gazing down into her face--"what have you to say to menow?"

  Instinctively Claire's hands stretched out to meet his, but on thefollowing impulse she drew back, clasping them nervously behind herback.

  "Oh, are you _sure_?" she cried breathlessly. "Are you _sure_ you aresure? Think what it means! Think of the difference it might make! Ihave no money, no influence; I'd be an expense to you, and a drag whenanother girl might help. Think! Think! Oh, do be quite sure!"

  Erskine's stern eyes melted into a beautiful tenderness as he looked ather troubled face. He waited no longer, but came a step nearer, andtook forcible possession of the hidden hands.

  "It is not my feelings which are in question; it is _yours_. There hasbeen no doubt in my mind for months past. I think you know that,Claire!"

  "But--your career?"

  "I can look after my own career. Do you think it is the straight thingto suggest to a soldier that he needs a woman to help him in his work?It's not as a soldier I need you, but as a man. I need you there,Claire. I need you badly! No one else could help m
e as you can!"

  Claire's lips quivered, but still she hung back, standing away from himat the length of her stretched arms.

  "I've no money. I'm a--a school-mistress. Your friends will think--"

  "I am not considering what my friends will think."

  "Your mother thought--"

  "I am not asking you to marry my mother. Mothers of only sons are hardto please, but you know as well as I can tell you that the mater is fondof you at heart, and that she will grow fonder still. She had her ownideas, and she fought for them, but she won't fight any more. Youmustn't be hard on the mater, Claire. She has done her best for me to-day."

  "I know! I know! I was sorry for her. Sorrier than I was for myself.It's so hard that I should have come between you two!"

  At that Erskine laughed, a short, impatient laugh.

  "Oh, Claire, Claire, how long are you going to waste time in discussingother people's feelings, before you tell me about your own? Darling,I'm in love with you!--I'm in love for the first time in my life. I'mimpatient. I'm waiting. There's no one in the world for me at thismoment but just yourself; I'm waiting for you to forget every one butme. Do you love me, Claire?"

  "You know I do! You know I do! Oh!" cried Claire, yielding to thestrength of the strong arms, and resting her head on the broad shoulderwith an unspeakable rush of joy and rest. "Oh, but you don't know howmuch! I can't tell you--I can't put it into words, but it's my wholeheart, my whole life! Oh, every _thought_ has been with you for such along, long time."

  "My darling! My own sweet, brave little girl! And my thoughts withyou! Thank God, we shall be together now. We have had enough ofseparation and chance meetings. There must be an end of that. You'llhave to marry me at once!"

  This was rushing ahead with a vengeance! Claire shook her head, with alittle laugh sweet as a chime of joy bells.

  "You ridiculous--boy! I can't. It's impossible. You forget my work.There's all next term. I couldn't possibly leave without givingnotice."

  "Couldn't you! We'll see to that. Do you seriously believe that I'mgoing to let you go back to that drudgery, and kick my heels waiting forfour months? You don't understand the kind of man you are marrying, mylass!"

  Claire loved the sound of that "my lass," loved the close grip of thearms, the feel of the rough cheek against her own. For a few minutesneither spoke, too utterly, completely absorbed in each other'spresence. To Claire, as to Erskine, a four months' delay seemed an aeonof time through which to wade before the consummation of a perfecthappiness, but it seemed impossible that it could be avoided.

  "Miss Farnborough would never let me off. She would be indignant withme for asking."

  "I'll tackle Miss Farnborough. Leave Miss Farnborough to me!" returnedErskine with so confident an air that Claire shook with amusement,seeing before her a picture of her lover seated _tete-a-tete_ with theformidable "Head," breaking to her the news that one of her staffintended to play truant.

  "It's very easy to say that. You don't know her. She thinks everythingin the world comes second to education."

  "What if she does? I'll agree with her. You're the most preciousdarling in all the world, but you can't honestly believe that therearen't a thousand other mistresses who could teach those flappers aswell, or better! Whereas for _me_--well! it's Claire, or no one. I'llthrow myself on the good lady's tender mercies, and ask for your releaseas a favour to myself, and I bet you anything you like that I succeed.Miss Farnborough was a woman before she was a school-mistress. She'llset you free all right!"

  "Perhaps--perhaps possibly at the half term."

  "Rubbish--the half term! We'll be married and settled down before weget near then... Where will you go for our marriage, Claire? To MrsWilloughby? I'm sure she'd be willing."

  "No!--no!" Claire marvelled at the obtuseness of men; at the utterunconsciousness of this particular man of the reason why MrsWilloughby's house should be the last one on earth from which hismarriage should take place. And then in the midst of thesequestionings, to her own surprise a sudden pricking of tears came to hereyes, and she cried sharply, "I want mother! I must have mother. Shemust come home. She'll come at once, when she hears--"

  "We'll cable to-day. That will be best of all. I'm longing to meetyour mother, and you ought to have her with you, little lass! Poor,little, lonely lass! Please God, you shall never be lonely any more."

  "Ah, Erskine darling, but the _other women_!" Claire cried, and therewas the sharpness of pain in her voice.

  From within the shelter of her lover's arms her heart went out in a waveof tenderness towards her sisters who stood apart from the royal feast;towards Cecil with her blighted love, Sophie with her blighted health,with the thousand others for whom they stood as types; the countlesshordes of women workers for whom life was a monotonous round of grey-hued days, shadowed by the prospect of age and want. From the shelterof her lover's arms, Claire Gifford vowed herself to the service of herworking sisters. From the bottom of her heart she thanked God for theyear of work which had taught her to _understand_.

  THE END.