Читать книгу The House of Mammon - Fred M. White - Страница 13

Table of Contents

Mrs. Sairson smiled slightly. Her long, thin hands were a trifle unsteady, and there was just a tinge of color in her cheeks. Still, she made a brave enough figure.

"I quite understand," she said quietly. "It is always the women who have to suffer."

A crimson wave stained Blanche Laurisdale's face. The rebuke was so dignified, so quiet, and yet in such perfect taste, that she felt ashamed of herself. She had been brought here against her will; she resented the indignity of it. She had expected to be dragged in triumph as a captive at the chariot of Mammon, and had come prepared to take toll with her bitter tongue. But, this, notwithstanding, there was a vast depth of feeling in Blanche Laurisdale.

"I am very sorry," she said. "Mrs. Sairson, will you forgive me for my rudeness. One cannot always help one's temper, you see. I—I don't exactly know how to explain."

"Then let me explain to you," Mrs. Sairson smiled. "You are annoyed that you have been compelled to come here. I suppose there was some urgent reason—business, perhaps. Of all the hateful things in the world the most hateful is money—or the love of it, rather. On the contrary, my husband thinks there is nothing else worth a thought. He says money can do anything. No doubt there is a sense in which he is right. But you can't buy friends with it. Not that my daughters and myself have sought any friends; but my husband was angry that people had not called on us. He—he manages these things in his own way. You cannot imagine how disturbed I was when I knew you were coming to-day. Oh, I do hope you will try to understand my feelings! This is a most annoying encounter——"

"Quite like a scene in a problem novel," Lady Laurisdale said, in a voice that was not under perfect control. "Dear Mrs. Sairson, I appreciate the position. We are both of the same time—the same blood, I may say. I am sorry I did not call before. We are both unhappy women, and I am sure shall do one another good."

Moved by a sweet and generous impulse, Lady Laurisdale stooped and kissed her companion. It was so spontaneous that it brought tears into Mrs. Sairson's eyes.

"Now I understand," she whispered. "Please let us say no more about it. I am sure this is not the last time I shall see you here."

"May I come when I like," Lady Laurisdale asked. "I don't mind confessing that I admire your girls. I liked to look after them, and yet I resented them. It seemed to me that they ought not to be quite what they are. But, of course, I had not seen you."

"Oh, my dear! I am past the age of compliments," Mrs. Sairson laughed. "I am sure you will get on with the girls."

Lady Laurisdale felt easy on that score. Angela and Nest came into the drawing-room presently, cold and distant and on edge to resent the faintest sign of patronage, but the gleam of battle faded from their eyes as Lady Laurisdale rose with a smile.

"You are going to be very angry with me," she said. "You would have been furious had you heard what I said to your mother when I first came. She made me feel like a housemaid. My dear girls, don't be annoyed with me because I have not called to see you before."

"Have we any right to be annoyed?" Angela asked gently.

"Of course you have. Are you not people of importance here? Don't you possess one of the loveliest old houses in the country? Does not your mother contribute handsomely to every charity? The old vicar has sung your praises repeatedly. And if——"

"And if I had been in your place, Lady Laurisdale, I should have behaved in exactly the same way," Nest said in her candid fashion. "It is very awkward, and—and——"

Nest broke down, stammering and crimson. She formed a pretty picture, with the sunshine falling on her masses of dark hair, and the lovely face with its fleeting anger and rebellious red lips. Lady Laurisdale stretched out her hand impulsively. There was something in the mute appeal in her face—a suggestion of loneliness—that touched Nest to the heart.

"What does it matter so long as I am here?" she asked. "I want you girls to lunch with me on Tuesday and fight it out. Come, please show me your orchids."

It seemed very strange, but here was the haughty and distant Lady Laurisdale talking to the Sairson girls as if she had known them all their lives. Nest's face wore a funny smile, and there was the suspicion of malice in her dark eyes. By the time the orchids had been inspected, John Sairson had found his way to the drawing-room.

There was no mistaking the insolent triumph on his face. He had the air of a man who had played for a big stake and won it. Obviously he was going to act the magnanimous, to let this proud woman, in spite of her blue blood, see that he was the dominating force in the situation. She would know, if need were, that she had been constrained to come here, she would have to recognise that money conquers all things. He was noisy and assertive, and assumed the bluff heartiness of the old school, yet looked so completely out of place in that exquisite room that one wondered how on earth he came to be there.

So this great coarse vulgarian, with the cruel face and mouth like a rat-trap, was the father of these two refined and beautiful girls who listened to him with eyes cast down and faces tinged with red. Lady Laurisdale forgot her humiliation in their vexation. Verily, this was the most amazing household she had ever come in contact with. None but a novelist could do it proper justice. It only needed the touch of romance to make the 'curtain' perfect. Even the touch of romance was supplied presently with the entrance of Cecil Lugard. Lady Laurisdale ought to have been surprised, but she was not in the least. She almost felt as if she had expected this. She saw the look that passed between Lugard and Nest, and her understanding was complete. Then Lugard looked at her and elevated his eyebrows.

He crossed over and shook hands, Sairson was expatiating loudly on the folly of allowing so many trees to stand when they could be more profitably used as timber. Laurisdale was protesting in his way, and Nest was taking his part.

"What are you doing in this gallery?" Lugard murmured.

"A few moments ago I might have asked you the same question," Lady Laurisdale said, "had I met you casually. Since you entered I have solved the problem for myself. When I look at the girl I am not surprised."

Lugard laughed awkwardly.

"I met the Sairsons abroad," he explained. "I did not know anything about them; indeed, there was no need to ask. You see for yourself that they are the kind of people you would take for granted. I was a poor man then, with no prospects, so I said nothing. Months afterwards I came here to look at the Dower House, which Sairson had to sell. I had no idea that John Sairson——"

"No," Lady Laurisdale smiled, "you wouldn't."

"It was a staggering surprise to me. Still, it didn't matter. I'm going to marry Nest. Whatever the family skeleton is, I don't mind."

"Your sincerity is beyond question," Lady Laurisdale admitted. "A love that will swallow a father-in-law like Mr. John Sairson will last to the confines of the grave. What does it mean, Cecil? How could a lady—a Belham—like our hostess marry such a man? Look at him! He is not only a bounder, but has rascal written large all over him. I did not realise it till to-day, but we are all in his toils, all being dragged after the chariot of Mammon. Laurisdale is in his power. He obliged me to come here. I thought I was an unhappy woman, but there sits a woman whose misery is greater than mine. What will become of us all before the play is over?"

Lugard shook his head as if in doubt.

"I don't know," he said. "I had a shock last night that caused me a good deal of concern. I won't tell you about it now, but I'd like to drop in to tea some evening for a chat over things. I mean to call upon you, anyhow. You can give me certain information about the poor old General Lugard. I will not rest till the scoundrel who hounded him to his death is exposed. The Dower House is very charming, but I wanted this place. Yes, and but for roguery it would have been mine, and I could have set the family up again. I'm going to find out how Sairson got it. I'm——"

The announcement of luncheon put an end to further discussion. Sairson came forward with obtrusive politeness and offered his am. Lady Laurisdale took it demurely. She admired the arrangements of the flowers on the table and the service of old silver and glass. Everything was in the best of taste, and the setting perfect. The one hideous note was John Sairson—loud, self-assertive, boisterous. His strident tones dominated the luncheon party.

"I'm going to build when I have time," he exclaimed. "A big ballroom on the east side, and a winter garden as well. Make the old place something like——"

"And spoil it," Lugard said quietly. "It would be a sin to add to the house. The very idea ought to turn poor Sir George in the grave."

"Pooh!" Sairson sneered. "Who cares what he might have thought?"

"Well, I care," Lugard said in a quiet voice. "It's possible you may not have the chance of carrying out your improvements, Mr. Sairson. You know what my contentions are. I have always felt, and some day will prove, that my uncle was robbed of the property by Blaydon. I am only short of one or two little facts to prove it, and when they come my way, heaven help John Blaydon, for he will get no mercy from me! I will not rest till that scoundrel is exposed and stands in the dock, which is his proper place. Of all the precious rascals and bloodsuckers who degrade the name of man, he is the greatest and most contemptible."

Lady Laurisdale glanced up quickly. The name was quite familiar to her, and she could have told the company that her information had been gained at first hand. She could see that Mrs. Sairson and the girls had gone strangely quiet, that Angela's face was pale and set. Sairson had dropped his dominating manner and his florid features had grown to a leaden hue. His big, coarse hands were shaking as he trifled with the fruit on his plate. Lady Laurisdale had half expected some furious outburst on his part. In that moment illumination had come to her mind, and a half-startled expression was strangled on her lips.

"A twinge of neuralgia," she explained. "How ferocious you are Cecil! To hear you talk, one would think that the wicked ogre Blaydon was actually present. Do you happen to know anything about him, Mr. Sairson?"

Sairson swallowed a glass of wine hastily.

"I've heard of him," he said; "well-known money-lender. He belongs to a class that is damned out of all proportion to its vices. Still, Lugard may be right. But he forgets the old saying that a fool and his money are soon parted."