Читать книгу Branded, or, The Daughters of a Convict - Gerald Biss - Страница 9

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Lunch was one of those silent, uncomfortable, meals which follow a family crisis, and Phyllis was the only one of the three who made any endeavor to eat. She had an excellent appetite and an unimpeachable digestion, and it was one of her principles to let nothing interfere with her enjoyment of her food. It was part of her scheme of frank materialism in life.

After lunch Mrs. Chichele announced a headache and an intention to rest.

"I shall go out for a walk, I think," said Phyllis, preparing the way for her plan of campaign, and then with her usual deliberateness she set herself down to work out the details.

Nothing is more conducive to clear thinking than a brisk walk, so an hour later she set out on foot for the park, walking up Sloane-street towards Albert Gate. She entered by the French Embassy, and found Lionel Erskine already waiting at the appointed spot.

She greeted him with a brilliant smile as he took her hand eagerly.

"It was good of you to wire me," he said with boyish eagerness. "I have been hung up between heaven and hell since last night, sagging up and down like an old see-saw."

"I wanted to have a long talk with you, Lionel," she said, giving him the key of the situation by her use of his Christian name; "and I know you wouldn't mind meeting me. Let's go somewhere where we can talk quietly. I've got such lots to say to you."

"Where shall we go?" asked Lionel, rather blankly. "London's such a beastly place for meeting people."

"Shall we take a hansom and tell the man to drive out towards Richmond?" suggested the fertile Phyllis. "People you may see in a cab; but they can't interrupt you. And," she added, with a knowing little smile, "I don't think we shall either of us mind them coupling our names together."

Lionel fell in with the suggestion delightedly; and soon they were seated side by side in a rubber-tyred cab, bowling towards the western extremities of civilisation.

For a minute there was silence—Lionel was supremely happy from the feeling of close contact and the promise implied by her actions; and after a second's hesitation he ventured to take her hand in his under cover of the closed doors, and pressed it warmly. To his delight the pressure was returned.

"Dearest," he murmured, leaning close to her, "then you mean you will marry me?"

"Yes," said Phyllis, softly, "that's what I wanted to tell you. Didn't you guess?"

"I hardly dared hope," said Lionel, happily, "but—but——"

"But you did?" suggested the girl, smiling radiantly. "You know you did?"

"Yes, I did," he admitted, with an answering smile, and he put his face so close to hers that Phyllis was afraid that he was going to kiss her in public.

"Take care," she said, a little sharply. "People will see you. You must wait."

"I don't mind people seeing me," he rejoined, eagerly; "and I don't want to wait."

"But you've got to," said the girl, firmly. "There'll be plenty of time later on. And, perhaps, if you are good," holding up a warning finger, "I'll give you just one little kiss when we get well outside the radius in some nice shady lane."

Accepting the inevitable delay, Lionel tried to slip his arm round her waist, and she allowed him to, sitting back so as to hide his action from curious eyes.

"You're a dear, bad boy," she said, in her softest voice; "but I like it, you know. Is that a very shameful confession?"

"No, darling," he answered; "it's only right that you should, if you are going to marry me. But why didn't you say 'yes' last night, when I asked you?"

"Because—well, because you took me by surprise," answered Phyllis, lying frankly, "and it's such a serious thing, isn't it? I just wanted to make sure of myself; but it didn't take me long, you know, dear. I didn't say a word to anyone, but just got into bed and thought and thought quietly all about you; and then I knew."

She felt his arm squeeze her more tightly than ever.

"Are you glad?" she went on.

"Glad?" her said, in a choked voice. "God knows how glad! I can't find words for it, my darling, darling sweetheart."

His voice seemed to hang longingly on the terms of endearment; and she saw how deeply he was moved. His emotion showed her that she would not find it very difficult to mould him to her wishes and to make him do as she wished; and she was satisfied.

"But, I'm afraid it's not all plain sailing, dear," she went on, pursing her lips and frowning slightly.

His face fell.

"What do you mean, dearest?" he asked abruptly. "Surely Mrs. Chichele doesn't object?"

Phyllis nodded without a word, realising the golden value of reticence.

"Why?" asked Lionel, shortly.

"I—I hardly like to tell you," began Phyllis, as though hesitating.

"But you must," said Lionel, firmly, assuming the airs of an accepted lover. "I insist upon the whole truth."

"Well, it's like this," continued the girl gently. "There's someone else who has been paying me a lot of attention; and—and aunt thinks he's the better match."

"Who is it?" said Lionel, with his mouth set.

"It's—it's that horrid old Lord Shelford," said Phyllis, with a little disdainful shrug of her shoulders.

"What?" exclaimed the young man, fiercely. "Old Dandy? That wretched old faked-up roue?"

Phyllis nodded.

"It's an abomination," broke out Lionel, angrily, "an absolute abomination. Don't your feelings in the matter count for anything? I should never have thought that Mrs. Chichele was so cold-hearted and worldly-minded. I have quite misread her character."

"Hush, Lionel," interposed Phyllis, soothingly. "I can't have you say such things about dear aunty. She may be mistaken; but she is only thinking of my good."

"Oh, you're such an angel, so sweet and so gentle, that you'd find an excuse for anyone," went on the infatuated young baronet, lovingly; "but I know the world so much better than you do, dear. It's nothing short of a criminal scandal to think of marrying a pure young girl like you, little more than a child, to such an old reprobate. He has the worst reputation in London; and, if he weren't a marquis and a millionaire, no one would have him inside their houses."

"He has always been very nice to me," objected Phyllis, ingeniously, fanning the flames of Lionel's anger.

"Naturally," said Lionel, sharply. "He always is to a pretty woman, and it's often the worse for them. Excuse me, darling," he went on, "but it is impossible for you to understand what I mean. When you know more of the world, as a married woman, you'll understand the enormity of the whole idea. It's horrible, repulsive."

"I didn't know you had such a temper, dear," said Phyllis, softly, secretly amused at his outburst. "You quite frighten poor little me! But, to resume my story, when I told auntie this morning what you had said last night, and that I"—she paused tantalisingly—"well, loved you, she showed a side of her character I had never suspected. She said that for a girl with my looks—excuse my mentioning them, dear; I'm not conceited—and my prospects, you weren't nearly a good enough match for one's first season. You were only the sort of husband a sensible chaperone would look for if a girl seemed to be hanging fire towards the end of her fourth or fifth season; and then she hinted about that horrid Lord Shelford. She said that every mother in London was mad to catch him, and that she thought I stood a good chance."

"Horrible," muttered Lionel, angrily; "disgusting!"

"But I wouldn't listen to her, darling," went on Phyllis, squeezing his hand in hers, "as you can imagine. I told her firmly that I loved you, and intended to marry you, and no one else; and then she got so angry. But I've got a bit of the devil in me, though you mayn't believe it,"—she smiled up into his face coquettishly—"and opposition makes me only the more determined. So I went out and telegraphed to you; and here I am, you see!" she concluded with a gay little laugh. "Now, what are we to do about it?"

"My staunch little sweetheart," he exclaimed, passionately taking her in his arms, and kissing her passionately again and again.

They were right out in the country, and there was no one about; so Phyllis did not stop him or discourage his eager outburst. She even went so far as to kiss him back with simulated shyness.

Then she put her hand on his mouth.

"Now stop, dear, and be sensible," she said, out of breath with the warmth of his caress. "This won't help us out of our troubles."

"No," agreed Lionel, savagely, "I know it won't. I'll drive round with you at once and see Mrs. Chichele."

"No, indeed you won't, you silly old darling," said the girl, promptly, cooling his ardor. "You'd get me into a terrible row. Do you imagine that aunty suspects that I'm with you discussing all our family matters?"

"No-o," assented Lionel, realising the position more keenly.

"Besides, it wouldn't do any good," went on Phyllis, confidently. "You don't know how stubborn aunty can be when she's made up her mind; and she has a nasty, cold, irresistible way of sitting on an importunate person that you'd find very trying. She'd never consent, and you'd only quarrel. And think how nice that would be for me, dear. I shan't be of age for another three years nearly; and I'd have to bear the brunt of it. You must try and think of something better than that."

She looked at him disconsolately, wondering in her heart whether she had sufficient intelligence to take the initiative.

"Poor little girl," he murmured, tenderly.

Then a pause ensued, during which Phyllis felt an acute desire to kick him or do something to stir him into action. His mind worked too slowly for her quick brain, and she felt that it would be very boring to go through life with him as her constant companion. But she was forced to play a card at once in the great game, and, not holding the ace, she had to play her highest and hope for the best. Besides, a married woman nowadays was not as absurdly tied to her husband as she used to be in the stupid old Victorian era, and in the thought she found a certain consolation. Further, she did not dislike Lionel. In fact, she rather liked him in some ways, and he wasn't bad-looking. And she most urgently needed another name and a protector, and she felt that Lionel would be staunch. Only it was such a pity he was so slow.

"Can you trust, me, little sweetheart?" he said at last.

"You know I can, dear, with my life, if necessary," she answered warmly, leaning forward spontaneously and kissing him impulsively. With a feeling of triumph one realised that his slow-working brain had grasped the alternative she had intended, but did not care to express.

He kissed her back gratefully, a lump in his throat at the unexpectedness and warmth of the caress. It touched him beyond words to think that this woman whom he adored so utterly with the passion of a young man's first love should love him back with such full measure.

"There's only one thing for it that I can see," he said, thoughtfully, "and I hardly like to suggest it to you, darling."

"What is that?" asked Phyllis, in a subdued voice.

"Well," went on Lionel, warming to his subject, "I'm perfectly independent, and fortunately have enough to get married pretty comfortably on; so I don't see why we should consult anyone or worry about angry old aunts. Let us act for our own happiness, darling."

"What do you mean, Lionel?" asked Phyllis, feigning ignorance.

"Let us elope, dear heart," said Lionel, eagerly, drawing her very close to him. "Let us get married quietly and tell no one till afterwards. Let us take happiness in both hands, and live out our lives to the full. Why wait three years and be the constant source of unhappiness to each other? Better far take the matter into our own hands. It will be forgiven and forgotten as soon as it's once done. That's the way of people, once you have made it inevitable. All the difficulties vanish, and a few words of reproach close the question for life."

He spoke with great eagerness, the words coming right from his heart; and Phyllis warmed instinctively. If he could only always be like this, she felt that the problem of life might solve itself more easily than she anticipated.

"But what would people say?" she said, pretending to offer a feeble protest, but allowing him to take her right into his arms without resistance.

"People can mind their own business," said Lionel, as he kissed her time after time. "They will have forgotten it in a week."

"But an elopement is so unusual nowadays," objected Phyllis, half-heartedly, as she settled herself in her corner again.

"So is love," said Lionel, fiercely. "It's all a question of price now to the exclusion of romance."

"I shall have some money, too," said the girl gaily, "when I'm twenty-one—quite a lot."

"I don't want money, I want you," said the man warmly. "Will you trust yourself to me?"

With a gesture of assent Phyllis yielded, having gained her point without his knowing it.

"It will be so sweet," she murmured softly, "to be alone with you—to be always with you. The prospect's so nice that I can't resist."

And Lionel kissed her again in his infatuation.

"But you mustn't tell a soul," she said, solemnly, "as I don't intend to be interrupted like people in story-books, once we have started."

"No, of course not," said Lionel, decidedly. "Shall you tell Doris?"

"No; she would be as likely as not to tell aunty," answered Phyllis, shutting her mouth with a little snap. "I shan't trust anyone! I shall only bring a hand-bag with my jewellery and a few things, and we'll have to buy the rest in Paris. And I shall leave some things ready packed which can be sent after us."

"How quickly you grasp a situation," said Lionel admiringly, unaware how carefully the details had been thought out; and Phyllis repressed a smile. "Tell the man to drive back, dear, or I shall get into such trouble," she said; and as they drove homewards they talked out their arrangements.

"I'll see my solicitor to-morrow," said Lionel looking lovingly at her, "and get the settlements drawn up."

"Oh, don't worry about those silly things," said Phyllis, secretly delighted. She had not liked to make such a suggestion herself; it looked too business like.

"Of course," said her fiancée firmly; "I shall insist upon it. And then I shall get the licence and arrange about the wedding. I'm afraid it will have to be first thing in the morning," he said, with a happy little laugh, "as we must catch the morning train for Paris. We must get away at once, to give your irate aunt a chance of cooling before we meet."

Phyllis gave a little enigmatical laugh; and they went on discussing the details.

Suddenly she interrupted him as they approached Sloane-square.

"You must drop me here, dear, and I must hurry home."

With obvious reluctance he helped her out.

"Shall I see you to-morrow, darling?" he said tenderly, as he wished her goodbye.

"No, I'm afraid not, you greedy boy," she answered, laughing. "Two days more and you'll see too much of me."

"I couldn't," he said fervently. "But I want just an hour. I want to take you to my man in Bond-street and get an engagement ring and one or two little things, you know."

Phyllis' eyes lit up.

"All right, dear," she said. "How sweet of you to think of it! I'll meet you at the same place to-morrow, at three o'clock."

And with another smile she left him.

"He isn't a bad boy," she murmured to herself. "I do hope he won't bore me too much, though."