Part 11 (1/2)
”Oh, it's not exactly my own.” Iris' eyes were honest as well as gay.
”It was something Mrs. Carstairs said to me one day. _She_ is clever, you know--but her life has been made very unhappy.”
Anstice, who had already wondered how much of Chloe Carstairs' history was known to the Waynes, glanced involuntarily at Sir Richard as Iris spoke the last words; and in the elder man's eyes he thought he saw a hint of trouble.
”I should judge Mrs. Carstairs to be a well-read woman,” he said, endeavouring to change the subject while ostensibly pursuing it. ”She has a good many books about her, though of course nothing like your collection here.”
He glanced at the walls as he spoke, and Sir Richard took up the new topic easily.
”I don't know whether you are a reader, Dr. Anstice,” he said, ”but if so, and you're short of reading matter, don't hesitate to borrow some of our books. We've all sorts, eh, Iris?”
”Thanks very much. I'm not a great reader--haven't time; but your books look rather alluring,” said Anstice, with a smile.
”We'll have a look round after tea,” returned his host. ”In the meantime pa.s.s your cup--this weather makes one thirsty.”
After tea he rose and invited the younger man to scrutinize the shelves.
Somewhat to his surprise Anstice found that the Greengates collection of books was a most comprehensive one, whole sections being devoted to science, biography, travel and so on; and he was fortunate enough to discover two recent biological works, which, owing to their somewhat prohibitive price, he had hitherto been unable to obtain.
”Like to borrow those tomes?” Sir Richard had noted the expression in his guest's face as he handled the volumes. ”Well, take them, and anything else you like. No, I confess I don't care much about books myself. Most of these were my father's choice--he was a bit of a student in his later years, and my sister likes to keep up with the times and lets the booksellers send down books as they used to do. But you're welcome to any of 'em, I a.s.sure you.”
He led his guest round the room, pointing out one or two favourites of his own; and while they were thus engaged, Iris, who had been feeding three lively Airedales with sc.r.a.ps of cake, came up to Anstice with outstretched hand.
”Will you excuse me, Dr. Anstice? I must go and get ready for church--we have service early here, you know.”
Immediately Anstice attempted to take his own departure, fearing he had outstayed his welcome; but Sir Richard positively refused to let him go.
”No, no, don't hurry away. Stay and keep me company for a little while--my man can easily run you over in the car presently.”
So it came about that after watching Iris' departure the two men turned back into the house, where Sir Richard led his visitor to his own cosy smoking-room and handed him a cigar.
”Light up,” he said genially, ”and try that chair. Dr. Anstice, now that my little girl has left us, I want to say something to you--to ask you a question, in fact.”
Rather taken aback, Anstice expressed his willingness to answer any questions his host thought fit to ask; and Sir Richard plunged at once into the heart of the matter.
”I understand from Iris that you have been attending the lady living at Cherry Orchard. Oh!”--as Anstice's eyebrows rose--”I'm not asking you to violate professional secrecy. I only wished to be sure that you knew the true position of Mrs. Carstairs in this neighbourhood.”
A moment's reflection showed Anstice that this man would hardly be likely to permit his young daughter to visit Cherry Orchard unless his opinion of Mrs. Carstairs were favourable; and his voice was non-committal as he answered.
”I have heard Mrs. Carstairs' story from her own lips, Sir Richard. She was good enough to relate it to me at an early stage of our acquaintance,” he said; and this time it was the other man's eyebrows which betokened surprise.
”Indeed! I didn't expect that, or I would not have spoken. I thought you had probably heard a garbled account of the whole horrible affair from some of the Pharisees down here; and since I and my daughter are honoured by Mrs. Carstairs' friends.h.i.+p I wanted to be sure you didn't allow the weight of local opinion to prejudice you in any way.”
”It's awfully good of you.” For once Anstice spoke spontaneously, as he might have spoken before that fatal day which had changed him into another and a less impulsive person. ”I may take it, then, that you and Miss Wayne believe in Mrs. Carstairs?”
”I believe in her as I'd believe in my own girl,” returned Sir Richard emphatically. ”Mind you, Chloe Carstairs isn't perfect--we none of us are. She has her faults--now. She's cynical and cold, a bit of a _poseuse_--that marble manner of hers is artificial, I verily believe--but I'm prepared to swear she had nothing to do with those vile letters.”
”You have known her long?”
”Since she was a child. Her father was one of my best friends, and I knew Chloe when she was a tiny baby girl all tied up with blue ribbons.
Carstairs met her first at my people's place in Surrey, and I was really pleased when he married the girl and brought her here.”