Chapter 79
"After a great deal of trouble. There's no time to give you details. I had a powerful advocate in Anne's heart. She had never forgotten me, for all my misconduct."
"You have been a lucky man at last, taking one thing with another."
"You may well say so," was the answer, in tones of deep feeling.
"Moments come over me when I fear I am about to awake and find the present a dream. I am only now beginning to _live_. The past few years have been--you know what, Carr."
He sent the barrister into the drawing room, went upstairs for Anne, and brought her in on his arm. The dowager was in her chamber, attiring herself in haste.
"My wife, Carr," said Hartledon, with a loving emphasis on the word.
She was in an evening dress of white and black, not having yet put off mourning for Mrs. Ashton, and looked very lovely; far more lovely in Thomas Carr's eyes than Lady Maude, with her dark beauty, had ever looked. She held out her hand to him with a frank smile.
"I have heard so much of you, Mr. Carr, that we seem like old friends.
I am glad you have come to see me so soon."
"My being here this evening is an accident, Lady Hartledon, as you may see by my dress," he returned. "I ought rather to apologize for intruding on you in the hour of your arrival."
"Don't talk about intrusion," said Val. "You will never be an intruder in my house--and Anne's smile is telling you the same--"
"Who's that, pray?"
The interruption came from the countess-dowager. There she stood, near the door, in a yellow gown and green turban. Val drew himself up and approached her, his wife still on his arm. "Madam," said he, in reply to her question, "this is my wife, Lady Hartledon."
The dowager's gauzes made acquaintance with the carpet in so elaborate a curtsey as to savour of mockery, but her eyes were turned up to the ceiling; not a word or look gave she to the young lady.
"The other one, I meant," cried she, nodding towards Thomas Carr.
"It is my friend Mr. Carr. You appear to have forgotten him."
"I hope you are well, ma'am," said he, advancing towards her.
Another curtsey, and the countess-dowager fanned herself, and sailed towards the fireplace.
Meanwhile the children came home in a cab from Madame Tussaud's, and dinner was announced. Lord Hartledon was obliged to take down the countess-dowager, resigning his wife to Mr. Carr. Dinner pa.s.sed off pretty well, the dowager being too fully occupied to be annoying; also the good cheer caused her temper to thaw a little. Afterwards, the children came in; Edward, a bold, free boy of five, who walked straight up to his grandmother, saluting no one; and Maude,
The dowager was just then too busy to pay attention to the children, but Anne held out her hand with a smile. Upon which the child drew up to her father, and hid her face in his coat.
He took her up, and carried her to his wife, placing her upon her knee.
"Maude," he whispered, "this is your mamma, and you must love her very much, for she loves you."
Anne's arms fondly encircled the child; but she began to struggle to get down.
"Bad manners, Maude," said her father.
"She's afraid of her," spoke up the boy, who had the dark eyes and beautiful features of his late mother. "We are afraid of bad people."
The observation pa.s.sed momentarily unnoticed, for Maude, whom Lady Hartledon had been obliged to release, would not be pacified. But when calmness ensued, Lord Hartledon turned to the boy, just then a.s.sisting himself to some pineapple.
"What did I hear you say about bad people, Edward?"
"She," answered the boy, pointing towards Lady Hartledon. "She shan't touch Maude. She's come here to beat us, and I'll kick if she touches me."
Lord Hartledon, with an unmistakable look at the countess-dowager, rose from his seat in silence and rang the bell. There could be no correction in the presence of the dowager; he and Anne must undo her work alone.
Carrying the little girl in one arm, he took the boy's hand, and met the servant at the door.
"Take these children back to the nursery."
"I want some strawberries," the boy called out rebelliously.
"Not to-day," said his father. "You know quite well that you have behaved badly."
His wife's face was painfully flushed. Mr. Carr was critically examining the painted landscape on his plate; and the turban was enjoying some fruit with perfect unconcern. Lord Hartledon stood an instant ere he resumed his seat.
"Anne," he said in a voice that trembled in spite of its displeased tones, "allow me to beg your pardon, and I do it with shame that this gratuitous insult should have been offered you in your own house. A day or two will, I hope, put matters on their right footing; the poor children, as you see, have been tutored."
"Are you going to keep the port by you all night, Hartledon?"
Need you ask from whom came the interruption? Mr. Carr pa.s.sed it across to her, leaving her to help herself; and Lord Hartledon sat down, biting his delicate lips.
When the dowager seemed to have finished, Anne rose. Mr. Carr rose too as soon as they had retired.
"I have an engagement, Hartledon, and am obliged to run away. Make my adieu to your wife."
"Carr, is it not a crying shame?--enough to incense any man?"
"It is. The sooner you get rid of her the better."
"That's easier said than done."
When Lord Hartledon reached the drawing-room, the dowager was sleeping comfortably. Looking about for his wife, he found her in the small room Maude used to make exclusively her own, which was not lighted up. She was standing at the window, and her tears were quietly falling. He drew her face to his own.
"My darling, don't let it grieve you! We shall soon right it all."
"Oh, Percival, if the mischief should have gone too far!--if they should never look upon me except as a step-mother! You don't know how sick and troubled this has made me feel! I wanted to go to them in the nursery when I came up, and did not dare! Perhaps the nurse has also been prejudiced against me!"
"Come up with me now, love," he whispered.
They went silently upstairs, and found the children were then in bed and asleep. They were tired with sight-seeing, the nurse said apologetically, curtseying to her new mistress.
The nurse withdrew, and they stood over the nursery fire, talking. Anne could scarcely account for the extreme depression the event seemed to have thrown upon her. Lord Hartledon quickly recovered his spirits, vowing he should like to "serve out" the dowager.
"I was thankful for one thing, Val; that you did not betray anger to them, poor little things. It would have made it worse."
"I was on the point of betraying something more than anger to Edward; but the thought that I should be punis.h.i.+ng him for another's fault checked me. I wonder how we can get rid of her?"
"We must strive to please her while she stays."
"Please her!" he echoed. "Anne, my dear, that is stretching Christian charity rather too far."