Читать книгу The Veiled Man - Ambrose Pratt - Страница 8

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Stayton had been dancing on the tiptoe of expectation and excitement from the moment Lord Cawthorne arrived in England. In mansion and cottage his name was at all hours on everybody's tongue. His advent meant so much to the place, industriously, socially—in fact, in every way. The laborers at the shipping works hoped (at the bottom of their hearts) to find in him a champion of their grievances. The works were well managed, but laborers have always grievances, and the Earl's history was known. "Surely," thought they, "a man who has worked hard since childhood with his hands for his living must sympathise with us, who are workers too. Surely his sudden access of fortune will not blunt the memory of his hardship and blind him to our needs."

The tradesmen hoped he would keep open house, as the last Earl had done, and thereby promote the prosperity of the town. Stayton's male upper ten hoped he would prove a social acquisition, and, broadly speaking, a good fellow. The matrons each hoped to find for him a wife in her own family; the maids hoped he would be pleasant and good-looking. The aggregated hopes of Stayton's upper ten, however, were tempered with anxiety. Many persons had read the history of Norfolk Island, and discovered that Lord Cawthorne must have been bred up among the descendants of criminals and savages. Only the youngest, therefore, ventured to predict with any confidence, grace from his coming.

His flight to London, so soon after his arrival, threw the place into a turmoil, from which it had barely recovered when news came of his return to the Castle.

Mr. Nevil Southdown, Lord Cawthorne's solicitor, experienced a sudden increase of practice in those intervening days. Clients poured in on him with trifling but numerous commissions, glad to pay if he would talk, for Mr. Southdown was the only man in Stayton who had yet made the Earl's acquaintance. He was a short spoken and somewhat querulous old gentleman, much given to minding his own and his client's business. He refused to discuss the Earl, and achieved a reputation for secretiveness which should have made his fortune. Nevertheless, Mr. Southdown was rather discriminating in his confidences than secretive, and there were those in Stayton to whom he voluntarily disclosed all that he knew. One of these persons was the Marquis of Fane, and another Sir Felix Greig. Both were directors of the Stayton Shipbuilding Company. The Marquis was the eldest son of the venerable Duke of Firshire, and it was said that he had long resigned all hope of succeeding to his father's title, for he suffered from heart disease, and at forty-seven looked sixty. He was an exceedingly proud, self-centred man, whom people regarded with awe, but without affection. In all the world but one person understood him thoroughly, his only daughter, Lady Dorothy Foulkes. In old-fashioned parlance, the Marquis worshipped the ground she walked on, but so curiously fenced in was his nature that he forbade her to suspect it, and she loved him so well that she pretended to believe he scarcely cared for her at all. Sir Felix Greig was the Marquis' wife's brother, and Lady Dorothy's uncle—a little man with a brown weazened face, and watchful hazel eyes. As managing director of the company he was feared and hated by the majority of the workers, who thought him hard and heartless. He was in reality, however, a just man, if exacting, and he knew how to reward as well as punish. Under his government men had risen from the ranks to high office in the company, and all his lieutenants were his friends. He was a bachelor and a vegetarian. When Lady Dorothy heard that her father and Sir Felix had seen Mr. Southdown, she became very curious for news; but instead of questioning the reticent Marquis, she called upon her uncle. She had an idea that she could twist the little Baronet around her finger.

"Welcome, Sunbeam," said Felix, glancing up.

The pet name was peculiarly appropriate. Lady Dorothy had blue eyes and golden hair; moreover, she was as slim and lithe as a wand, and she always dressed in white. Stayton loved her because she was bright and beautiful, and because she appeared utterly unconscious that the world contained a single element of evil or of melancholy. Her worst enemies could find no harder name to give her than a butterfly. She was twenty-two years of age, and a second season belle. She had already been in love more times than she could count, and she was supposed for the moment to be flirting with Dr. Francis Somerton, in order to keep her hand in practice. Entering the room with a rushing silken swish of skirts, she perched herself upon the edge of Sir Felix Greig's table, and looked her uncle in the face with a dazzling smile.

"Always planning, Nuncs. What a conspirator you would make if you could plot as well as you can plan." Her voice was a contralto, low-pitched and silver toned.

"Take care, miss; you are crumpling the corner of a first-class cruiser."

"Poor thing." Lady Dorothy did not move. "Nuncs!" she said.

"Well."

"What's he like?"

"Who?"

"As if you don't know."

"Cawthorne! I haven't seen him."

"You women!" growled Felix; "you are all the same. Curious as kittens. Why can't you wait?"

"Nuncs, you have seen Mr. Southdown. Don't you dare to pretend to me."

"And if I have?" Sir Felix liked being coaxed.

"Nuncs!"

"You baby."

"Dear Nuncs!" The voice was a softest purr.

Sir Felix tried to frown.

"Darling Nuncs! Now then."

Sir Felix gave in. "You baby," he repeated, smiling indulgently.

"Tell me everything," with a little cuddling wriggle of her body that was perfectly bewitching.

"Gossip says——"

"Bother gossip," she interrupted. "Mr. Southdown says—now go on."

"Southdown was impressed, Sunbeam," said Sir Felix. "He likes him."

"But, what is he like? That is what I want to know."

"In looks?"

"Of course."

"Big, and strong, and handsome, I suppose. At any rate Southdown calls him a Viking."

"Oh, Nuncs, how lovely! Fair or dark?"

"I did not ask."

"You stupid old Nuncs. You might have thought of me. Oh, bother!"

A knock had sounded on the door. Lady Dorothy sprang from her perch and smoothed her skirts with the demurest air.

"Come in," said Felix.

A clerk entered, wearing an expression, of subdued excitement.

"What is it, Lambert?"

"A gentleman to see you, sir."

"What is his name?"

"Lord Cawthorne, sir."

"Oh!" cried Lady Dorothy.

"Ask him to wait one moment," said Felix.

The clerk bowed and withdrew. Uncle and niece gazed at each other. Lady Dorothy's eyes were sparkling like diamonds. "Don't dream you'll get rid of me," she cried. "I—I——" a brilliant idea struck her—"I'll be your typewriter, Nuncs."

Before Felix could reply she had darted to a neighboring desk, and had begun to tap the keys of a machine.

"Dolly," he said.

No reply.

"Dorothy," sternly.

Lady Dorothy tap-tapped.

"Dorothy," very sternly. "This is perfectly absurd of you!"

"Does your typewriter wear her hat in the office, Nuncs?"

"My dear Dorothy——"

"But does she?"

"No," Sir Felix thundered. "Look, my girl, if you don't be sensible at once, I shall have no option but to receive Lord Cawthorne in another room."

Dorothy had already removed her hat, and was now smoothing her rebellious locks.

"Spell it, Nuncs," she cooed, with a positively brilliant smile.

"Very well, minx." He got up and moved towards the door.

"Nuncs!"

He paused.

"If not, why not?"

Sir Felix frowned. "His business may be of a private nature."

"How could it be? He has never met you before. It is sure to be merely a formal call. And, Nuncs!"

"What?"

"I'll cry if you turn me out. Honestly I will."

"Now, Dorothy——"

She produced a tiny handkerchief. "I—I—never thought——" her voice quivered.

"Dolly!"

"You—you—could be cruel to me." The voice broke, and the kerchief went up to her eyes.

Sir Felix surrendered at discretion. "Then try to look like a typewriter," he growled, "and—and behave yourself. If you make a fool of me I——"

But Lady Dorothy, moving towards him like a sunbeam, stopped the threat on his lips with an impassioned kiss.

"You angel," she cried, "you darling Nuncs—my Nuncs!"

Sir Felix rubbed his nose and gazed at her with a half-chagrined, half-doting air. "You little wretch," he muttered, "you do with me as you please."

"You like it, Nuncs."

"Not always, Dods, not even now."

"You do, you know you do."

"All the same, it is ridiculous. What will that young man say if he meets and recognises you some other time?"

"Nuncs, you said one minute, and you have already kept him five. Ring the bell this instant."

Lady Dorothy settled herself before the machine and began once more to tap the keys. Sir Felix, with a despairing shrug, returned to his table and sat down. Presently, and visibly reluctant still, he pressed an electric button. "Show Lord Cawthorne up," he said to the clerk.

"Now mind you behave," he implored his niece, a moment later.

Lady Dorothy did not reply. To all appearances she was deeply engrossed in typing a letter, and her face was wonderfully serious.

"Lord Cawthorne," announced the clerk.

The young Earl entered, hat, gloves, and cane in hand. He had walked over from the Castle, and his patent leather boots were cloaked with dust. Exercise had given him a color, and he looked magnificently fresh and vigorous. He glanced straight at the Baronet and advanced briskly to the table.

"Six feet two and handsome as Apollo," whispered Lady Dorothy, plying her machine.

Sir Felix rose, and received his visitor with outstretched hand.

"I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Lord Cawthorne," he declared. "Welcome heartily to Stayton and these works."

"You are very kind, Sir Felix."

"A crisp voice—I like crisp voices," thought Lady Dorothy.

The Earl took a chair. He then cleared his throat and hazarded, "A lovely morning."

"Charming," agreed Sir Felix. "You are lucky to have arrived in May; you now see England at her best, in her spring garment."

"Yes. Ah—m—, ah—m, ahem. Fact is, I have come on business, Sir Felix."

"Ah, indeed. Then would you like to see me alone. My—humph—typewriter." He indicated Lady Dorothy.

Lord Cawthorne did not even look at her. "Not at all," he replied. "It's not private. You might ask him not to tap, though; the noise gets on one's nerves, don't you think?"

Lady Dorothy bit her lips, and leaned back in her chair. She had been called a 'him.' The Earl's profile faced her. "I'll give you one or two for that, my lord," she gasped, in thought.

Sir Felix flashed a wicked smile at his niece. "I am quite at your service," he suggested, turning to the Earl.

"It's about this company."

"Indeed."

"They tell me I hold a few shares."

"That is an ungenerous statement of facts, Lord Cawthorne. Your shares represent very nearly a third interest in the business."

"So I understood; they tell me, too, Sir Felix, that there is a vacant seat on the board of directors."

Sir Felix bowed. "The Marquis of Fane and I have purposely kept the seat open pending your arrival, in order that you might have an opportunity of exercising a voice in its disposal."

"It was extremely good of you."

"By no means; it was your due, Lord Cawthorne, considering the nature of your interest. Lord Fane and I both hope that you will join us on the board in person."

"You touch the object of my visit, Sir Felix. Indeed, I came to ascertain if I have any possible chance of becoming a director."

"You have merely to express your wish in order to convert such a chance into a certainty."

"Then I do so now."

"You will join us?"

"If I may."

"That is the best of news. Fane will be delighted; and as for myself I am more pleased than I can say. I shall take immediate steps to secure your election. Permit me to congratulate you on your decision, Lord Cawthorne."

"Ah—thanks."

"In my opinion you are acting most wisely. It is good to discover you are not a drone. Sleeping partners are a class that I cannot tolerate with ease. The more active an interest you take in the management of the company the better I shall be pleased."

"Of course, I am a perfect novice."

"Naturally, but you can learn."

"I—I suppose so. I'm afraid I'll have to work pretty hard, though eh?"

"You'll do very well, I'm sure. I'll be glad to help you in every way I can. I take it that you are not afraid of work."

The Earl gave a rather rueful laugh. "Oh, I can work when I choose," he shrugged his shoulders, "and I have one at my elbow who will keep me up to the mark, however lazy I feel. My cousin, he would suit you down to the ground, Sir Felix—a more energetic fellow never lived!"

"I should like to meet him."

"He is, unfortunately, a confirmed invalid. He never leaves his rooms."

Lady Dorothy thought it high time to intervene. She had not been so long silent as far back as she could remember, and she was feeling horribly neglected.

She stood up. "Sir Felix," she said, in timid little tones.

Sir Felix had forgotten her existence, "Eh!" he cried.

"Would you please tell me how to spell 'innocent.' Has it two n's or one?"

Lord Cawthorne, startled to hear a woman's voice, turned his head. Lady Dorothy had chosen the word which best suited her expression. She looked as guileless as a dove.

Sir Felix glared at her and began to spell, frowning terribly the while. The Earl caught his breath, and wondered if he dreamed. His blue eyes brightened and dilated; his nostrils quivered. Unconsciously he sat bolt upright in his chair. The girl's beauty thrilled him in a way unknown to his experience. He felt the blood pulse with sudden violence through his arteries, and yet a hand seemed to clutch and hold his heart.

He awoke as from a trance to hear himself insistently addressed. Lady Dorothy was bending over her machine, and for a while her face was hidden, else perhaps the Earl would not have awoke at all. He became aware that Sir Felix was inviting him to dinner. He muttered a bewildered acceptance.

"I shall expect you at eight, then," said the Baronet.

"Thanks, thanks very much."

Sir Felix was standing holding out his hand. The Earl arose instinctively.

"My busiest day, I'm sure you will excuse me. Au revoir," said Felix.

"Until to-night?" asked the Earl, almost stupidly.

"Why, no. Tuesday night," I said.

"Oh, yes, of course. Good-bye." He got as far as the door and turned, to meet Lady Dorothy's dancing eyes. She smiled at him. He blushed crimson, bowed, and fled.

Sir Felix Greig was thoroughly exasperated. "Dorothy," he began in his grandest manner. "Kindly resume your hat and relieve me of your presence. Your conduct was outrageous. I am heartily ashamed of you."

Lady Dorothy put on her hat, but she did not go. "Nuncs," she said, "did you see how I knocked him? Oh, isn't he a duck!" she clasped her hands ecstatically upon her breast.

Sir Felix belonged to a school whose members would have been less shocked to hear their daughters swear than use slang.

He turned pale with rage. "You shameless, girl!" he cried.

Dorothy beamed upon him. "I had to," she said, sweetly. "It's the best piece of fun I've had since I left the nursery. Simply English just can't express my feelings. Don't be nasty, Nuncs."

"I shall tell your father the moment that I see him."

"Oh, Nuncs; you can tell fibs. You know you wouldn't have me scolded for the world."

"Dorothy—how could you?"

"Which? I've sinned twice, remember."

"You—you deliberately smiled at him."

"Should I have scowled? Never mind, I shall scowl at him next time, Nuncs."

"Please go."

"Nuncs, I'll be sorry if you forgive me."

"No."

"Look at me, Nuncs."

"No."

She made a sudden rush at him and sprang upon his knee.

"Now, Nuncs," with her arms around his neck, "don't you dare to browbeat me any more."

"Dorothy," he began, most sternly.

She kissed him.

"Dorothy."

Another kiss. "My proper name, please," she cooed.

"Well, Sunbeam."

"That's better."

"You are a very naughty girl."

"Yes, Nuncs, and you're an angel." She kissed him tenderly, and began to stroke his hair. "Darling old Nuncs!"

Over Sir Felix's face there gradually spread the shamefaced smile of a boy caught stealing jam. "You are incorrigible," he muttered, with a final spark of righteous anger. "And—I'm an old fool."

She laughed merrily. They often quarrelled, but their quarrels always terminated so. "Now, I'm going home," she said. "Good-bye, Nuncs." She stood for a moment at the door looking back at him with her most brilliant smile, and Sir Felix thought of nothing but that picture for the remainder of the day.