Part 28 (1/2)
”We've fixed up your game all right, Peignton,” the Squire informed him.
”Found a decent fellow at the club, who's keen to make up a foursome.
I think you can give him about two strokes. He's to meet us to-morrow at ten o'clock. We ought to get in some good days before Sat.u.r.day. Of course when the fair Teresa arrives you'll want to knock off.”
Grizel made an expressive grimace.
”Seeing that she is--_not_ his wife! Oh, matrimony, where are the charms our mothers have seen in thy face? There ought to be a second line to that.--La la la,--la la la, la la la _La_... since golf has taken our place! I shall have a word to say in Teresa's ear.”
”No use!” cried Peignton, laughing. ”She's caught the fever herself.
No small player either. The first time I met her was on the golf links.
She won't have the usual plea of desertion, as we shall probably spend our spare time playing together.”
”Community of interests, eh?” The Squire made a wry face. ”Very idyllic, no doubt, but I'm not keen on a wife as a partner at golf.
Ca.s.sandra can't bit a ball to save her life, and I've always thought it one of her chief virtues. Women are the deuce when they fancy themselves at games. I gave up tennis parties for that very reason.
Never do more now than ask up three other fellows to make a four. Girls are all very well in their place. I like girls, but I'd choose a man every time when it comes to a game.”
Grizel c.o.c.ked her head at him with a challenging air.
”What do you bet I don't beat you hollow at croquet, before the clock strikes seven?”
”Nothing! Ain't going to play.”
”Oh, yes, you are,” Grizel said coolly. ”You've been amusing yourself all day; now you are going to amuse me for a change. Croquet is about the only game I _can_ play, and I have a fancy that it would do you good to be beaten. Does anyone want any more tea? They can't have it if they do, for there's none left. Anyway, you've all had three cups.”
She held out her arm in mocking fas.h.i.+on. ”Come along, and be butchered!”
The Squire shrugged, and submitted.
”That's all right, Mrs Beverley. Delighted. Never said I objected to other fellows' wives...”
They moved off round the corner of the house; Martin glanced after them, yawned, and stretched his legs. In Grizel's absence he became very conscious of his tired body, and the two hours which had still to elapse before dinner a.s.sumed formidable proportions. It entered his head to excuse himself and retire to his own room, for a read, followed by a leisurely bath, then he remembered his duties as host, and resigned himself to stay at his post, and his two companions, noticing his sigh and yawn, read his thoughts as a book, and waited in a tensity of suspense for his decision. Peignton was in no doubt as to his own feelings,--he longed with all his heart for the fellow to take himself off, and leave him to talk to Ca.s.sandra alone; Ca.s.sandra believed that she wished precisely the opposite, but to both came the same sharp pang of disappointment, as Martin took out his cigarette case, and settled himself in a lounge chair.
After a quarter of an hour's casual conversation Ca.s.sandra rose, and entered the house. She felt too impatient to continue the three-sided conversation, but, inside the drawing-room, she lingered on pretence of rearranging the flowers in the tall green vases, while her ears strained to hear what was happening without. If Dane cared enough to follow, it would be so easy, so natural, to ask to be taken a walk of inspection round the gardens! Those minutes of waiting had been sufficient to prove the fallacy of her pretence, and she knew that she was hungering for the time when they should be alone together, when she could look into his eyes, and hear his voice speaking in the deep, full tones which had made music in her ears during the stolen days of convalescence. She had gone hungry for weeks, and for a moment it had seemed that she might be fed. If only Martin had obeyed his first impulse, and taken himself away! She stayed her hand, and stood motionless listening with strained ears. From the balcony without came the sound of a masculine voice, running on in a smooth, even flow. The feminine element being withdrawn, Martin had embarked on a serious discussion which sounded as if it might be prolonged to an interminable length. At that moment Ca.s.sandra hated Martin Beverley.
Half an hour later, from an upper window which gave a view of the verandah, Ca.s.sandra beheld the two men playing chess with every appearance of absorption.
After dinner, bridge occupied the hours till bedtime, the men cutting in and out. The next day they disappeared from ten until six, and after being fed and refreshed, were keen for bridge once more. The Squire was keen, that is to say, and the others acquiesced with more or less readiness. The second and third days brought little variation in the programme. The golfers arrived home a little later, a little earlier, sat smoking and talking on the verandah, or rested their limbs, and occupied their brains with contests at chess. Frequently Martin disappeared to his own room. He had some short articles on hand, which he was anxious to finish; moreover, being accustomed to long hours in his study, he grew weary of the sound of voices, and felt at liberty to take an occasional hour of solitude, now that the Squire was provided with a companion. So it came about that Dane could never count upon ten minutes to himself. In the short part of the day which he spent in the villa, he was continually shadowed by the Squire's big, bronzed presence; the big voice boomed continually in his ear, challenging him to fresh contests, haranguing on politics, laying down the law on the eternal subject of land, and with every hour that pa.s.sed, there grew in Dane's breast a smouldering fire of rebellion. The time was pa.s.sing, was flying fast; he had the feeling of being continually baffled and outflanked. In another two days Teresa would arrive, and her coming seemed to mark the end of,--of _what_? Peignton did not acknowledge to himself in so many words that he was crazed with disappointment at the impossibility of spending five uninterrupted minutes in Ca.s.sandra's company; it was easier to skirt round the subject, and declare that he was tired of golf, bored with the Squire's eternal bl.u.s.ter, yet reluctant to approach the end of a visit from which he had expected much.
As he was dressing in the morning he debated how he could escape from the links, but the solution was difficult to find. Each day's game was arranged in advance, his own willingness being taken for granted. Had he not been invited for the special purpose of playing golf?
Again, if in the evening he were to cry off bridge, it would simply mean that Ca.s.sandra was chained to the table. The only chance of a _tete-a-tete_ lay during the interval between the return from the links and the serving of dinner, and so persistently was fate against him at those times, that Dane began to suspect an abetting human agency. Not the Squire, not Martin, but Grizel herself! It did not seem possible that it was owing to chance alone that the p.a.w.ns on the board were so consistently moved to block his approach!
There is nothing so irritating to the nerves as the fret of continual disappointment, and in both looks and manner Peignton showed signs of the mental strain through which he was pa.s.sing. Cheerfulness forsook him, he grew silent and preoccupied, only by the hardest struggle did he prevent an outburst of actual ill-temper.
Looking back he realised that it was the intimacy of that week spent at the Court a month before, which made the present condition so unbearable. Then, day after day, Ca.s.sandra had sat alone by his side, now working at her embroidery, and again dropping her thread, and sitting with folded hands, while they talked together--that talk which never jarred, never wearied, never seemed more than just begun. He had tried at times to recall what exactly they had talked about during those lengthening hours, but he could not remember. The subject had seemed of so little importance, it had been but a vehicle to convey the inward sympathy and understanding, an opportunity of hearing Ca.s.sandra's voice, and watching the lights pa.s.s over her beautiful, vivid face. It had been a happy face in those days, but it was not happy to-day. A look of strain was upon it which corresponded to his own; there were moments of suspense when he sensed that she also was holding her breath; moments of exasperated check, when his own anger leapt to meet an answering flame.
On the morning of the day on which Teresa was to arrive, Peignton made a determined revolt. Breakfast was over, and the five members of the party had strolled on to the verandah to enjoy the fresh air. When the Squire sounded the usual cry of haste, Dane nerved himself, and spoke out:
”I think I shall stay at home this morning. I feel inclined to laze.
You'll enjoy a single for a change.”