CHAPTER IV

INTRODUCING THE LADY LAVINIA CARSTARES

Richard went slowly back to his chair. After a moment he sat down,

staring blankly out of the window, his hands loosely clasped on the desk

before him. So he remained for a long while, immobile. At last, with the

faintest of sighs, he moved and picked up a quill. He dipped it in the

ink, and, with his other hand, drew towards him a sheaf of papers.

Presently he was writing steadily.

For perhaps twenty minutes the quill travelled to and fro across the

pages; then it paused, and Richard looked up towards the door.

It opened to admit Lady Lavinia. She came rustling into the room with

her embroidery in her hand. She dropped her husband a mock curtsey and

went over to a high-backed armchair, stretching out a dimpled hand to

draw it forward. But even as her fingers touched it she had changed her

mind, and fluttered over to the couch, there to seat herself with much

swirling of brocades and arrangement of skirts. She then proceeded to

occupy herself with her work, plying her needle hurriedly and jerkily.

Richard watched her in silence, following each turn of the pretty hand

and each movement of her fair head.

The silence was evidently not to my lady's taste, for she presently

began to beat an impatient tattoo on the floor with one slender foot.

Still he said nothing, and she raised her pure china-blue eyes to his

face.

"Why so glum, Dick? Why do you not talk to me?" Her voice was rather

high-pitched and childish, and she had a curious way of ending each

sentence with an upward lilt and a long drawn-out accent, very

fascinating to listen to.

Richard smiled with an obvious effort.

"Am I, my dear? I crave your pardon. Warburton has just been."

Her face clouded over instantly, and the full-lipped mouth drooped

petulantly.

"He has seen him."

"Oh?" She made the word twice its length, and filled it with

disinterest.

"Yes. Jack will have none of it. He asks me to be his steward and to use

Wyncham as I will. He is very generous."

"Yes, oh yes. And you will, Richard?"

He ignored the question.

"He--Warburton--says he is not much changed."

"Oh?" Again the long-drawn monosyllable, accompanied by a tiny yawn.

"He says he does not think--Jack--bears me ill-will--" He paused, as if

expecting her to speak, but she was absorbed in arranging two

flowers--culled from a bowl at her side--at her breast, and took no

notice. Carstares turned his head away wearily.

"If it were not for you, my dear, I would tell the truth. I believe I

shall go crazed an I do not."

"Dick!" ... She dropped the flowers on the floor and thought no more

about them. "Dick!"

"Oh, you need have no fear! I do not suppose," bitterly, "that I have

the courage to face them all now--after six years."

Lavinia moved restlessly, brushing her hand along the couch.

"You will not do it, Richard? Promise! You _will_ not? I could not bear

the disgrace of it; promise me you will never do it?"

"No," he said slowly, not looking at her. "No, I cannot promise that."

She sprang to her feet, flinging her broidery from her carelessly, and

waved fierce, agitated little hands.

"That means you will do it. You _want_ to disgrace me! You do not _care_

how you hurt me by holding this threat over my head so cruelly! You--"

"Lavinia, for heaven's sake!" he implored, pushing back his chair. "Calm

yourself!" He knew she was about to fly into one of her sudden passions,

and frowned with acute vexation.

"I will not! Oh yes, yes! You think me a shrew! I know! I know! But you

need not frown on me, sir, for you are worse! No, I will not hush. I am

a horrid woman, yes, but you are a cheat--a cheat--a cheat!"

Carstares strode over to her.

"Lavinia!"

"No--no! Leave me alone! You make me miserable! You refuse me everything

that I want most, and then you threaten to disgrace me--"

"That is untrue!" cried Richard, goaded into replying. "I will not

promise, that is all. What have I refused you that was within my means

to give you? God knows you try your best to ruin me--"

"There! There! 'Tis _I_ who am to blame! Pray, did you not induce my

lord to leave his money to John when you knew he would have willed it

all to you an you had kept silence? You took no thought to me--"

"For heaven's sake, Lavinia, be still! You do not know what you are

saying!"

She pressed her hands to her hot cheeks.

"No--I am unreasonable! I know it, but don't _tell_ me so, for I cannot

bear it! And don't look reproach at me, Richard! You drive me mad, I

tell you!" She was sweeping up and down the room like some caged animal,

lashing herself to a worse fury.

"Say something, Richard! _Do_ something! Don't stand there so quietly!

Oh, you should never have married me! I displease you, and you make me

worse; and you do not see how 'tis that I cannot live without pleasure,

and money! I am despicable? Yes, yes, but what are you? Oh, why did you

tell me you cheated _after_ you had wedded me?" Angry sobs escaped her;

her handkerchief was in shreds upon the floor.

Carstares turned his back to her, that she might not see how she had

contrived to hurt him, and the movement drove her to fresh fury.

"Don't do that! Don't! Don't! You make me worse by your dreadful

silence! Oh, if you really loved me!"

"You cannot doubt that!" he cried out, wheeling suddenly round. "You

know how I love you! Don't you?" He gripped her by the shoulders and

swung her to face him.

She trembled and gave a sobbing little laugh. As suddenly as it had

come, her anger left her.

"Oh, yes, yes! You do love me, Dicky?" She twined her arms about his

neck and shrank closer.

"God help me, yes!" he groaned, thrusting her away. "And you--you care

for no one save yourself!"

"No! No!" she cried, pressing up to him again. "Do not say that, Dick.

Indeed, I love you, but I cannot live without gaiety--you know I

cannot. Oh, I do not doubt but what I am very selfish, but 'tis the way

I am fashioned, and I cannot change my nature. And now I have hurt you,

and I did not mean to! I did not mean to!"

"My dear, I know you did not; but try to be less a child, I beg of you!

You are so uncontrolled, so--"

"I knew you would say that," she answered in a dead voice. "You do not

understand me. You expect me to be good, and patient, and forbearing,

and I tell you 'tis not in my nature."

"But, Lavinia, you can control your passions," he said gently.

"No! I cannot! We Belmanoirs--as God made us, so we are--and He made us

spendthrift, and pleasure-loving, and mad!" She walked slowly to the

door. "But you do not understand, and you try to make me staid, and

thoughtful, and a good mother, when I am dying for _life_, and

excitement, and care not that for housewifery!" She opened the door

slowly. "And now my head aches, and you look grave and say 'tis my

wicked temper, when I want you to be sorry, and to be ready to do

anything to comfort me. Why can you not take me to London, when you know

how I long to be there, instead of in this gloomy house with nought to

do, save mind my child and my needle? I am so tired of it all! So very

tired of it all!"

She would have left the room then, but he detained her.

"Wait, Lavinia! You say you are unhappy?"

She released the door handle and fluttered her hands expressively.

"Unhappy? No, I am dull. I am ill-tempered. I am discontented. I am

aught you please, so do not be sad, Richard. I cannot bear you to be

solemn. Oh, why do we quarrel?" With one of her impulsive movements she

was again at his side, with her beautiful face upturned. "Love me,

Richard! Take me to London and never mind an I _do_ squander your money.

Say you do not care! Say that nothing matters so long as I am happy! Why

do you not say it? Does anything matter? Don't be prudent, Dicky! Be

wild! Be reckless! Be anything rather than grave and old!" Her arms

crept up to his coaxingly. "Take me to London!"

Carstares smoothed the soft hair back from her forehead, very tenderly,

but his eyes were worried.

"My dear, I will take you, but not just yet. There is so much to be done

here. If you will wait a little longer--"

"Ah, if I will wait! If I will be patient and good! But I cannot! Oh,

you don't understand, Dicky--you don't understand!"

"I am sorry, dear. I promise I will take you as soon as possible, and we

will stay as long as you please."

Her arms fell away.

"I want to go now!"

"Dear--"

"Very well--very well. We will go presently. Only don't reason with me."

He looked at her concernedly.

"You are overwrought, my love--and tired."

"Yes," she agreed listlessly. "Oh yes; I will go now and rest. Forgive

me, Dick!" She kissed her finger-tips and extended them to him. "I will

be good one day." She turned and hurried out of the room and up the

stairs, leaving the door open behind her.

Richard stayed for a moment looking round at the signs of her late

presence. Mechanically he stooped to pick up her embroidery and the

pieces of her handkerchief. The two flowers were broken off short, and

he threw them away. Then he left the room and went out on to the sunny

terrace, gazing across the beautiful gardens into the blue distance.

Across the lawn came a child of four or five, waving a grimy hand.

"Father!"

Richard looked down at him and smiled.

"Well, John?"

The boy climbed up the terrace steps, calling his news all the way.

"'Tis Uncle Andrew, sir. He has rid over to see you, and is coming

through the garden to find you."

"Is he? Has he left his horse at the stables?"

"Ay, sir. So I came to tell you."

"Quite right. Will you come with me to meet him?"

The little rosy face lighted up with pleasure.

"Oh, may I?" he cried and slipped his hand in Richard's.

Together they descended the steps and made their way across the lawn.

"I have run away from Betty," announced John with some pride. "There's

Uncle Andrew, sir!" He bounded away towards the approaching figure.

Lord Andrew Belmanoir was Richard's brother-in-law, brother to the

present Duke. He came up with John in his arms and tumbled him to the

ground.

"Good day, Dick! 'Tis a spoilt child you have here!"

"Ay. He is but now escaped from his nurse."

"Splendid! Come, John, you shall walk with us, and we'll confound fat

Betty!" He slipped his arm through Richard's as he spoke. "Come, Dick!

There's a deal I have to say to you." He grimaced ruefully.

The child ran on ahead towards the woods, a great bull-mastiff at his

heels.

"What's to do now?" asked Richard, looking round into the mobile,

dissipated countenance.

"The devil's in it this time, and no mistake," answered his lordship

with a rueful shake of his head.

"Debts?"

"Lord, yes! I was at Delaby's last night, and the stakes were high.

Altogether I've lost about three thousand--counting what I owe Carew.

And devil take me an I know where 'tis to come from! Here's Tracy turned

saint and swears he'll see me damned before he hands me another penny. I

doubt he means it, too."

Tracy was the Duke. Richard smiled a little cynically; he had already

had to lend his Grace a thousand guineas to pay off some "trifling

debt."

"He means it right enough. I believe it would puzzle him to find it."

"Do you say so? Why, 'tis impossible man! Tracy was in town scarce a

fortnight since, and he had a run of the devil's own luck. I tell you

Dick, I saw him walk off with a cool five thousand one night! And then

he denies me a paltry three! Lord, what a brother! And all with the air

of an angel, as if _he_ had never lost at dice. And a homily thrown in!

Anyone would think I had cheated, instead of--ahem!... Dick, I'm

confoundedly sorry! Damned thoughtless of me--never thought about

Jo--about what I was saying--I'm a fool!" For Richard had winced.

"You cannot help that," he said, forcing a laugh. "Have done with your

apologies, and continue."

They had come to the stream by now, and crossed the little bridge into

the wood.

"Oh, there's not much more. 'Tis only that something must be done, for

Carew won't wait, and stap me if I'd ask him, the lean-faced

scarecrow!--so I came to you, Dick."

He let go Richard's arm and flung himself down on a fallen tree-trunk,

regardless of velvet and laces.

"You're a good fellow, and you don't lecture a man as Tracy does, devil

take him! And you play high yourself, or you did, though 'tis an age

since I saw you win or lose enough to wink at. And, after all, you're

Lavvy's husband, and--oh, damn it all, Dick, 'tis monstrous hard to ask

you!"

Carstares, leaning against a tree, surveyed the youthful rake amusedly.

"'Tush, Andrew!" he reassured him. "You're welcome to ask, but the Lord

knows where I'm to find it! Gad, what a life! Here's Lavinia keeps

buying silks, and I don't know what all, and--"

"She was ever a spendthrift jade," said Andrew with a mighty frown.

Richard laughed at him.

"You're a thrifty fellow yourself, of course!"

Andrew looked round for something to throw at him, and finding nothing,

relapsed once more into deepest despondency.

"You're in the right of't. We're a worthless lot. 'Tis the old man's

blood in us, I doubt not, with a smattering of her Grace. You never knew

my mother, Richard. She was French--Lavvy's the spit of her. There's

Tracy--stap me, but Tracy's the very devil! Have you ever seen a face

like his? No, I'll swear you've not! What with his sneering mouth and

his green eyes--oh, 'tis enough to make a fellow go to the dogs to have

a brother like it, 'pon my soul it is! Ay, you laugh, but I tell you

'tis serious!"

"Ay, go on!"

"Well next there's Bob--damn it all, but I'm sorry for Bob! 'Tis a

beggarly pittance they give one in the army, and he was never one to

pinch and scrape. Well, as I say, there's Bob, and I never see him, but

what it's: 'Lend me a hundred, Andy!' or the like. And all to buy his

mistress some gewgaw. That's what sickens me! Why, Bob's for ever in

some scrape with a petticoat, and as for Tracy! Gad, how they can! Then

there's Lavinia, but I should think you know her by now, and lastly,

there's your humble servant. And I tell you, Dick, what with the racing,

and the cards, and the bottle, I shall be a ruined man before you can

turn round! And the pother is I'll never be any different. 'Tis in the

blood, so where's the use in trying?" He made a rueful grimace, and

rose. "Come on, young rip! We're going back."

John, engaged in the task of hunting for tadpoles in the water some

yards distant, nodded and ran on.

"I fear my lady is indisposed," said Richard hesitatingly. "You wished

to see her?"

Andrew winked knowingly.

"Tantrums, eh? Oh, I know her. No, I do not care an I do not see her;

'tis little enough she cares for me, though she's as thick as thieves

with Tracy--oh, ay, I'll be dumb."

They walked slowly back to the house, Andrew, silent for once, twirling

his gold-mounted cane.

"You shall have the money, of course. When do you want it?" said Richard

presently.

"'Pon honour, you're a devilish good fellow, Dick! But if 'tis like to

put you to any--"

"Nonsense. When do you need it?"

"I should pay Carew as soon as may be. Markham can wait over if--"

"No, no! Wednesday?"

"'Twill do excellently well. Dick, you're a--"

"Oh, pshaw! 'Tis nought. I want your opinion on the bay mare I bought

last week. You'll maybe think her a trifle long in the leg, but she's a

fine animal."

John had run indoors, and the two men proceeded to the stables alone,

Andrew discoursing all the way, recounting for his brother-in-law's

benefit the choicest morsels of scandal that were circulating town at

the moment. That his auditor but attended with half an ear affected him

not at all; he never paused for an answer, and, in any case, was far too

good-natured to care if he received none.

By the time they had duly inspected the mare and walked back to the

house, it was nearly four o'clock, and, not altogether to Carstares'

surprise, Lavinia was awaiting them on the terrace, clad in a totally

different gown, and with her hair freshly arranged and curled.

"'Twould appear that Lavinia has recovered," remarked Andrew as they

mounted the steps. "She was ever thus--not two minutes the same. Well,

Lavvy?"

"Well, Andrew?" She gave him a careless hand to kiss, but smiled sweetly

up at her husband. "My headache is so much better," she told him, "and

they said that Andrew was come to see you. So I came downstairs." She

turned eagerly to her brother. "Tell me, Andrew, is Tracy at home?"

"Lord, yes! He arrived yesterday, devil take him! Do you want him?"

"Oh, yes," she nodded. "I want to see him again. I've not set eyes on

him for an age. I want you to take me back with you."

"Surely, my dear, 'tis a trifle late in the day for such a drive?"

demurred Richard, trying to conceal his annoyance. "Can you not wait

until to-morrow?"

"Faith, you'll have to, Lavvy, for I'll not take you to-day, that's

certain. I'm riding to Fletcher's when I leave here. Tracy can visit you

to-morrow an he chooses."

"Will he?" she asked doubtfully.

Andrew clapped his hand to his vest pocket. "If I had not forgot!" he

exclaimed. "I've a letter from him for you. He intends waiting on you

to-morrow, in any case. Lord, what it is to have a scatter brain like

mine!" He pulled a handful of papers from his pocket and selected one,

sealed, and addressed in a sloping Italian handwriting.

Lavinia pounced upon it joyfully, and tore it open. Andrew restored the

rest of the documents to his pocket with yet another rueful laugh.

"Duns, Richard! Duns!"

"Give them to me," answered the other, holding out his hand.

"Oh, no! But many thanks, Dick. These are quite unimportant."

"Why not pay them all, and start afresh?" urged Carstares.

"Lord, no! Why, I should be so damned elated that before the day was out

there'd be a score of fresh debts staring me in the face!"

"Let me lend you a thousand to begin on? Could you not keep out of

debt?"

"I keep out of debt? Impossible! Don't look so solemn, Dick; I told you

'twas in the blood. We never have a penny to bless ourselves with, but

what's the odds? I shall have a run of luck soon--a man can't always

lose. Then I shall be able to repay you, but, of course, I shan't.

It'll all go at the next table. _I_ know!" He spoke so ingenuously that

Richard could not be angry with him. There was a certain frankness about

him that pleased, and though he might be spendthrift and heedless, and

colossally selfish, Richard felt a genuine affection for him. He would

have liked to argue the point further, but Lavinia came forward,

refolding her letter.

"Tracy is coming to-morrow afternoon," she told her husband. "'Twill be

prodigiously agreeable, will it not?"

He assented, but with a lack of warmth that did not fail to strike her

ears.

"And he will stay to dine with us!" she cried challengingly.

"Certainly, my love."

"Look pleased, Dicky, look pleased! Why don't you like Tracy? He is my

own brother; you _must_ like him!"

"Of course I like him, Lavinia. Pray, do not be foolish."

"Oh, I am not! Don't be cross, Dicky dear!"

"Well, if you like him, I'm surprised," broke in Andrew. "I can't bear

him! Ay, flash your eyes at me, Lavvy; I don't mind."

Lavinia opened her mouth to retaliate, but Richard hastily interposed.

Their bickering was more than he could bear, and he never understood how

Lavinia could stoop to quarrel with the boisterous youth, who tried so

palpably to rouse her.

He bore them both off to the house, feeling much like a nursemaid with

two recalcitrant children.