Part 21 (1/2)
The situation was surely a most grave and remarkable one, and her position was certainly unenviable. Knowing her abject terror of the man I felt apprehensive of the result, for I felt confident that one single sign of weakness would give the desperate game entirely into his own unscrupulous hands.
In the big white drawing-room where the visitors a.s.sembled before dinner, the Countess appeared in a marvellous gown of pale turquoise and cream, and wearing the diamond collar and bodice-ornament which was her husband's wedding gift, and which cost a sum which to many a man would have represented a fortune. Her coiffure was beautifully arranged without a hair awry, and her white neck and arms seemed like alabaster.
Truly she was a magnificent woman, and well merited the description a certain royal prince had once uttered of her--”Taking face and figure, the prettiest woman who ever came to Court during the present reign.”
She was laughing gaily with old Lord Cotterstock as she entered, chaffing him about his sleepiness after luncheon and missing several birds, and as her gaze met mine I saw that the manner she had rea.s.sumed, that nonchalant air that she usually wore, was little short of marvellous. One would hardly have recognised in her the white-faced, terrified and despondent woman of half-an-hour before.
In the corner of the room stood Smeeton, a tall, commanding figure in faultless dress clothes, and a small but fine diamond in his s.h.i.+rt, chatting to two women, Lady Barford and the Honourable Violet Middleton, to whom he had just been introduced. Her ladys.h.i.+p was of that middle-aged type of stiff-backed lion-hunter who sought London through to get the latest poet, painter or _litterateur_ to go to her weekly ”At Homes,” and had already, it seemed, b.u.t.tonholed the renowned hunter of big game.
Old Slater appeared at the door, bowing with that formality acquired by long service in that n.o.ble family, and announced in a voice loud enough to be heard by all--
”Dinner is served, m'lady.”
Then the Countess walked boldly up to Smeeton and asked to be taken in by him, while I linked myself up with a rather angular girl in a pale rose gown that had seen long service, the daughter of a Squire from a neighbouring village who was this evening eating his annual dinner at the Hall.
Through dinner her ladys.h.i.+p preserved an outward calm that was remarkable. She chatted and laughed amiably with her guest seated at her right hand, and as I watched narrowly I detected that he was already amazed at her self-possession. That night she was even more brilliant than ever. Her conversation sparkled with wit, and her remarks and criticisms caused her guests in her vicinity to roar with laughter at frequent intervals.
From where I sat little escaped my watchful eyes. Once or twice she turned her gaze upon me, as though to ask whether she were acting her part sufficiently well, then fired off some epigrammatic remark to one or other of the gay crowd of well-dressed people around her.
Dinner ended, the ladies retired, the cloth was removed, the port was circulated in decanters in silver stands along the bare table of polished oak, in accordance with the custom that had obtained at Sibberton ever since the Jacobean days. The Stanchester cellars had always been celebrated, and a.s.suredly there was not a finer port in the whole country than that which they contained. Among the men, as they drank their wine, the newly-arrived visitor became the centre of attraction. Sportsmen all of them, Lord Stanchester had told them of Smeeton's keenness after big game, and many questions were being put to him regarding the practicability of shooting expeditions in East Africa.
At last an adjournment was made into the huge vaulted hall, the stained gla.s.s and architecture of which reminded me of a church, where there was music every evening. In the high roof hung those faded and tattered banners carried by the Stanchesters in various battles historic in English history, and around the walls stands of armour in long and imposing rows.
Her ladys.h.i.+p was an excellent musician, and although in these days of mechanical piano-playing music will, it is feared, soon be a neglected art, she always played on the grand piano for the entertainment of her guests. Some songs were sung--mainly from the comic operas, _San Toy_, _The Geisha_, _The Country Girl_--and some even with a chorus heartily joined in by those lords and ladies of ill.u.s.trious name. It was Liberty Hall, and in the evening the fun always grew fast and furious.
Presently the bridge tables were set, parties were made up, cards were dealt and played, money rattled and very soon there were high stakes in various quarters and a good deal of money began to change hands.
With two or three exceptions the whole party played bridge. Myself, I could not afford to lose, and therefore never played. While among those who declined the invitation was Smeeton, who remained an interested onlooker at his hostess's table.
Only by the slight trembling of her bejewelled hands could I detect in her any sign of fear, but when she rose as midnight chimed out from the turret clock over the stables, as a signal for the ladies to retire to their rooms, he had, I noticed, disappeared. Perhaps he wished to obtain a secret interview with her, therefore I was quickly on the alert, and succeeded in gaining a point at the junction of two corridors that ran at right angles, and down which I knew she must pa.s.s. In order to escape notice I slipped into one of the rooms and stood in the dark with the door slightly ajar.
She came at last alone, her silken skirts sweeping with loud frou-frou, her diamonds glistening in the light as she advanced. Her guests had pa.s.sed out into the new wing, but she habitually reached her room by this corridor, which was a short cut and ran through a portion of the vast mansion not generally used.
She had almost gained the doorway wherein I stood, when I heard hurrying steps behind her, and next moment Smeeton caught her roughly by the wrist, exclaiming in a quick determined whisper as he bent to her--
”Marigold! Marigold! Have I so changed that you don't know me? I told you that I should return and here I am! You thought you could escape by marrying this man--but you can't! The awkward little matter outstanding between us still remains to be arranged, and I think you know d.i.c.k Keene well enough to be aware that in an affair of this sort he's not a man to be trifled with. So you know well enough what I'm here for, and what a word from me to these fine friends of yours will mean to you. Do you hear me?” he added, with a hard ring in his voice. ”What have you to say?”
CHAPTER TWENTY.
RICHARD KEENE MAKES A REVELATION.
The Countess, unconscious of my presence, halted quickly, and turning upon him with a start exclaimed--
”I--I really don't understand what you mean, Mr Smeeton!”
”Understand what I mean!” he echoed with a short dry laugh. ”I suppose you'll deny acquaintance with me next!”
”I certainly do not recollect having met you before,” she answered with admirable hauteur.
”What?” he exclaimed, in undisguised surprise at her bold attempt to disclaim any previous acquaintance. ”Do you actually affirm that we have never previously known each other?”
”Never until this evening,” was her response. ”That is why I don't understand what you mean in addressing me in this manner.”