Читать книгу Windlestraws - Bottome Phyllis - Страница 10

Table of Contents

The smoking-room was empty except for Reggie, who was sitting in his usual chair cleaning a gun; but he was not holding the gun in the position in which men who understand guns clean them.

Ian coming suddenly into the room met his eyes before Reggie had quite succeeded in driving the desperation out of them. He said quickly:

'If there's got to be an accident with a gun--I'd rather it were mine!'

'Nonsense! My dear fellow! Nonsense!' Reggie murmured; but he made no protest when Ian took the gun out of his hands. He leaned back in his deep chair with a queer little sigh, as if he suddenly felt tired.

Ian examined the gun; unloaded it and returned it to its place without further comment. Before he turned back to Reggie, he said casually: 'I heard the girl scream; but it was quite all right. They thought it was an owl.'

Reggie readjusted his monocle and spoke in his usual good-natured drawl. 'Damned picturesque touch of natural history--what? I'm willing to bet you ten to one Beatrice thought of that. But a bit misleadin', owls shriek when they see their mouse,--this was a case of the mouse shrieking when it saw the owl meant business.

'No great harm done, though! I remembered the hall was full of people, so I shoved her outside the door more frightened than hurt!' Ian made no direct comment on Reggie's statement. The loaded gun seemed to him comment enough. Reggie had thought so lightly of the matter that if Ian had been a few minutes later he would have blown his brains out. Ian sat down at some distance from Reggie, so that he could see his easy lounging figure but not his face.

'Of course all I mind about is you----' he said presently. 'That's why I came--in such a hurry I mean!'

'There's nothing fresh to mind,' Reggie answered, his voice dragging a little. 'You know as well as I do that there are times when--like the chap in the play Jean told us about--I find it pretty hard to stick it. Amusin', wasn't it, her first evening here--telling us about that Strindberg stuff?

'I wonder if she guesses now that she hit the right nail on the head from the first go-off? That chap of hers in the play though hadn't got a pretty secretary let loose on him. His wife hadn't thought of that, I suppose. Mine went one better. Bad luck for the girl though. I'm willing to admit to you that I regret it. I regret it rather a lot.'

Ian was silent. He was thinking that what the Central Empires had failed to do, Beatrice had accomplished.

Four years of France hadn't broken Reggie. When earth was nothing but scattered rubble, and air packed close with shrieking death, Reggie's nerve had remained unbroken. His whole regiment had lived on Reggie's pluck; desperation could make no final clutch upon the heart while Reggie's drawling voice threw out its dauntless jibes.

If Reggie felt he couldn't stick it, things must be pretty bad. It was hard to see--worse not to be allowed to see, only to feel--the steady nerve, his own had rested on, shaken at last.

The only comfort was that Reggie probably knew exactly how badly Ian felt. He glanced anxiously at Reggie's stiffly held figure pretending to relax.

'Nothing's happened,' he said awkwardly. 'It's all right really. None of those fellows in the hall would think anything particular of it. Nor the girls either--less if anything. People don't feel things like that to be serious nowadays. Why should you?'

'I don't know what you call serious,' Reggie murmured, putting out his hand for his pipe and trying to keep the lightness in his voice. He got hold of his pipe but the lightness escaped him. 'You see it's never come to my attacking a girl in my own house before. If she'd given me any excuse--I shouldn't have cared a damn. But this girl didn't. She looked at me as straight as a dog looks--she hadn't a thought back of it, except some election dodge.

'If you ask me what happened I can't even tell you. Funny thing is I hadn't as far as I know any particular fancy for her. Of course I'd been thinking about her--my mind does rather run on women, you know. I haven't touched Beatrice for six years.'

'Good Lord!' muttered Ian below his breath.

'Oh well!' said Reggie quickly, 'why should I? She loathes me, you know.'

Ian said vehemently after a short pause, 'I'll go away to-morrow--I'll swear never to set eyes on Beatrice again! This business about the girl is all my fault! You know you've only to say the word! I don't stay here for Beatrice, it's for you!'

'Fact's the same, whoever is at fault.' Reggie murmured. 'The girl's badly frightened and I frightened her. I don't see what it's got to do with you. And I don't want you to move off. Last time you went would take some beating. Beatrice raised Hell. Even if she hadn't, I prefer to have you about the house. Some one to talk to. Besides, if you're here Beatrice behaves herself.

'I don't really want to see the whole thing smash. Windlestraws, you know--the children's lives--all that. Nor does Beatrice. She's a good mother.'

'She's perfectly good--that's the most damnable part of it,' Ian said after a pause. 'We stick to the path of duty as if we were glued. But that doesn't make anything any easier!'

Reggie moved a little. 'It's hard on you,' he agreed slowly, 'but you've got yourself more in hand with women than I have. You always were a cold-blooded devil! Perhaps it's easier when they take a fancy to you, than when they cut and run.'

Ian gave a laugh that was half a groan. 'Think so?' he asked. 'Have you forgotten Char? I didn't keep my head that time, did I? Nor did Char! It's not so damned easy being liked by women! Besides, you're liked enough yourself. Most women take to you.'

'That's their look-out then!' said Reggie. 'But you can't say I'm markedly lucky over my own fancies. At least not the principal one, am I?'

Ian plunged his head in his hands. 'I could kill her half the time--if that's any satisfaction to you!' he groaned.

'Can't say it is, particularly,' answered Reggie, 'it's the other half I'm apt to notice. But you won't kill her, my boy, nor will I. She'll outlive us both!'

Ian stirred uneasily. 'She isn't any more to blame than we are!' he said, lifting his head out of his hands and glancing fiercely across the room at Reggie's motionless figure. 'She must suffer damnably! We both torture her--and at the same time too; if she hadn't the patience of an angel, she'd put poison in our soup!'

Reggie made no reply; his lips moved, closed more firmly over his pipe while the eyes above them gleamed as if he were amused at something but had no intention of handing his amusement on.

Ian would have liked Reggie to answer him back. He knew what he could say in answer to a challenge; but he couldn't say anything to protect Beatrice if Reggie wouldn't attack her.

He had to sit there broken in two between them--false to them both.

'Well,' said Reggie at last, 'as far as I can see, then, there's nothing one can do about Beatrice, but there's the girl. I should rather like some form of apology to be carried to her.'

Ian gave a quick movement of relief. 'Shouldn't you think,' he asked eagerly, 'that perhaps Beatrice could tackle her? She seems--Miss Arbuthnot, you know--awfully keen on Beatrice. Beatrice might be able to do more with her than we could.'

'I shouldn't fancy anyone could do more with Miss Arbuthnot,' said Reggie drily, 'except to look out her train. She'll cut and run, whatever anybody says, and you can't blame her. I'd like to send her a cheque though but of course it 'ud be no good--she'd tear it up!'

'No, money's no earthly!' agreed Ian gloomily. 'But you'd much better see the thing through, old man. That girl could help you a lot. If you make her a decent apology, she'd stay on. She's got guts!'

'How do you mean "see it through"?' Reggie demanded. 'What is there to see, except that I've made a damned fool of myself; and I've seen that already?'

'Why not think of her?' Ian objected. 'She's got steadiness for two. A man can be kept out of the divorce court by a girl like that. If you carry on and she sees that you respect her, she'll end by being your friend.'

'But good God, man! I don't want a girl for a friend,' Reggie objected. 'I'm too damned domestic! I don't say I wouldn't like a little girl in the house who belonged to me. Sally's in London and I hate having to go up to town. It doesn't do to poach on one's own neighbourhood--awfully bad for politics. Perhaps--having one here in the house is Beatrice's game! I'm afraid I must have inadvertently spoiled her sport if it was!'

Ian considered the possibility with extreme distaste. He saw that Reggie would not think it base, if Beatrice had brought Jean Arbuthnot into the house in order to tempt him. It would merely seem to Reggie unfortunate that he had not given the temptation time to succeed. But to Ian it seemed base. He couldn't think only of Reggie, or only of Beatrice or only of himself. He had to think of Jean Arbuthnot. She was an innocent, honest girl who wanted to do her job well, and who liked them. They had no business to set a trap for her.

'Beatrice couldn't do that!' he said at last defensively. 'She couldn't use a friendly girl like that! I expect what she means is what I said to you before. She wants to balance things a bit--to keep you amused, and help on your career! She knows that men always gravitate to her--well then, don't you see, she gets hold of a girl, and a damned nice one too, and hands her over to you! She doesn't mean any harm by it, and there mustn't be any harm! It's jolly decent of her, I think! and like Beatrice!' He finished, flushed with relief and triumph; but Reggie, puffing dubiously at his pipe, continued to look profoundly sceptical.

'So you think that's the idea, do you?' he asked with a grunt. 'Well--I won't argue with you about my gifted wife. As you truly observe, she gets every man in the house on her side. About Jean Arbuthnot--I'm not sure you aren't right. I have a feeling that I rather ought to see the business through if she'll consent to it. I'd rather be shot at dawn than meet her again; but that's my own affair. The girl's a good girl, and virtue ought to have its fling as well as vice. Besides it's a beastly thing to do a woman out of a job because you can't control yourself. I don't think she'll forgive me if she stays on, nor am I particularly keen that she should; but on the whole I'd rather she stayed than went. Will you take her an apology for me? I'd prefer Beatrice kept out of it. If it's her scheme to have the girl here she'd get round her to stay whether the girl wanted to or not. I'd rather Jean was given fair play. Tell her I know that I've behaved like a cad, regret it, and can be trusted not to do it again; and then let her go or stay as she likes.'

Ian agreed; he thought that it would be a difficult job to speak to Jean; but not as difficult as if she were a fool. She'd either stay and be nice to Reggie, or go and keep her mouth shut.

It was strange how certain Ian felt about her behaviour; still it didn't prevent him saying: 'Damn all women!' when he had finished deciding how Miss Arbuthnot would behave.

'Amen!' murmured Reggie piously. 'Damn 'em all you like, but keep 'em on the wing! We've got to have something to let fly at, haven't we?'

The door opened softly and Beatrice stood before them. 'Hullo, you two! What are you talking about?' she demanded. Her glance strayed over the dimly lit room, as if she wondered a little, without anxiety, what had happened there lately.

'Birds!' said Reggie succinctly, 'and what we should do if there weren't any. We agreed that owls were awfully useful wild-fowl.'

'Oh, you'd shoot something else!' laughed Beatrice. 'You wouldn't let the business of life stop for a little thing like a bird! Now which of you will come to play bridge? I only want a fourth.'

'I'll come,' said Reggie. 'It seems to me about time I put in an appearance.'

It hadn't been what Beatrice had wanted, but the smile which lingered on her lips as she turned away was no less sweet.