Part 4 (2/2)
”They told you right. If the cattle winter safe I shall achieve the ambition of my life, to own the biggest and finest herd of Shorthorns in the country. I'll show 'em a thing or two about that breed of cattle. I tell you, Peter----”
”Mrs. Denbigh,” announced Judson at the door.
Jerry caught the look of consternation which Peter Courtlandt threw at his son. She saw also the sudden tightening of Steve's lips. What did it mean? She had met Felice Denbigh once and had been repulsed by her super-golden hair and super-perfect complexion. Was she an old sweetheart of Steve's? She took a step toward the smartly gowned woman who spoke as she crossed the threshold.
”Mrs. Courtlandt, you will forgive me for this intrusion on your honeymoon, won't you? But--but Steve left his gloves in my sedan this morning when we drove to town, and I came to return them.”
Jerry's mind took a dizzy turn or two then settled down to clear thinking. She had a curious sense that with the explanation Felice Denbigh had fired the opening gun of a campaign. So there had been a reason why Steve had refused to allow her to drive him to town. She flashed a glance at him even while she murmured welcoming plat.i.tudes to her guest. He had his hand on his uncle's arm.
”You remember Felice Peyton, don't you, Uncle Nick?”
”What's that? Felice Peyton, the girl you were forever running after when you were in college? Well, Miss Peyton, you lost him, didn't you?”
asked the terrible old man.
”But--but dear Mr. Fairfax, I'm not Miss Peyton now--I married Phil Denbigh when Steve deserted me and went to war. I----”
”Philip Denbigh!” The old man rose, straightened himself like an avenging Nemesis. ”Poor devil! So he drew another blank besides that good-for-nothing philandering mother of his. A mother who wept and begged until she kept the boy from enlisting, and by some hokuspokus got him into Cla.s.s C.--No, I won't stop,” as Courtlandt senior laid a peremptory hand on his arm. ”There are a lot of men who are cringing through life to-day because their women did not love them enough to cheer them on to fight in the Great Fight.”
Felice Denbigh was white with anger, her eyes tiny green flames. Jerry flung herself into the breach:
”Won't you stay and dine with us informally, Mrs. Denbigh? Poor S-Steve must have been bored to death, surfeited with my society this last month.”
”Thank you, no.” Felice's self-possession was superb. ”I shall pay my respects to the new Mrs. Courtlandt later when she is formally at home.
Good-night, Mr. Fairfax. What a pleasure it must be for the family to have your genial presence at the Manor. You don't know how happy it makes me to find that someone remembers Steve's devotion to me. He seems to have forgotten it. Good-night, Sir Peter. Stevie, will you come and start that cranky car of mine?” Then, as he reached her side, Jerry heard her ask softly, ”Shall we meet at the same place to-morrow morning?”
Nicholas Fairfax must have heard it also, for the girl heard him mutter:
”Snake!”
CHAPTER IV
As she served coffee in the library after dinner Jerry pondered over those low-spoken words. The firelight set the sequins on her pale blue gown glittering like jewels; it accentuated the satiny sheen of her hair, betrayed the troubled expression in her lovely eyes. Nicholas Fairfax was in his room. He had collapsed when he went up to dress for dinner. Doctor Rand, whom he had brought with him, stood back to the fire stirring his coffee. There was a suggestion of fat and wheeze about the little man. His weather-stained face had the wrinkled effect of a quite elderly, quite plump russet apple. His white hair bushed a la Golliwog. His frock coat was of finest, pre-war broadcloth. The flamboyant effect of his black necktie made the girl think of the bow on the neck of a pet kitten. He tested his coffee before he observed dryly:
”If a man with an under-developed heart-beat and an over-developed blood-pressure will go chasing half-way across the continent to see a pretty girl,” he bowed with somewhat ponderous gallantry in Jerry's direction, ”what can you expect but collapse? He's crazy about you, Steve, and somewhere he got the fool notion that you were unhappy.
That's what started him East. I tried to hold him back. I knew the price he'd pay.”
Stephen Courtlandt came suddenly from the window where he had been looking out upon the snow-dusted world. He approached the fire. His eyes looked strained.
”Then you think he won't rally from this attack, Doc?” he asked anxiously.
”It's better for you to know the truth, Steve. He knows. He's wired for Greyson of the X Y Z and----”
”Oh-h!”
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