Jaffery Part 41
"Well, old girl," said Jaffery kindly, "I must own you've been rather indiscreet."
"I've been a d.a.m.n fool," she repeated.
"Anyhow it's over now. Thank goodness," said I. "Did you eat your breakfast?"
She made a little wry face. No, she could not touch it. What would she have now? I sent a waiter for cafe-au-lait and a brioche and lectured her on the folly of going without proper sustenance. The ghost of a smile crept into her eyes, in recognition, I suppose, of the hedonism with which I am wrongly credited by my friends. Then she thanked us for the roses. They were big, like her, she said. The waiter set out the little tray and the _verseur_ poured out the coffee and milk. We watched her eat and drink. Having finished she said she felt better.
"You've got some sense, Hilary," she admitted.
"Tell me," said Jaffery. "How did we come to miss you on the boat? We watched the London trains carefully."
"I came from Southsea about an hour before the boat started and went to bed at once."
"Southsea? Why, we were there all the evening," said I. "What were you doing at Southsea?"
"Staying with Emma--Mrs. Jupp. The General lives there. I couldn't stick that boarding-house by myself any longer so I wrote to Emma to ask her to put me up."
"So that's why you went on Thursday?"
"That's why."
"Pardon me if I'm inquisitive," said I, "but did you take Mrs.
Considine--I mean Mrs. Jupp--into your confidence?"
"Lord no! She's not my dragon any longer. She knew I was going to Havre--to meet friends. Of course I had to tell her that. But Jaff Chayne was the only person that had to know the truth."
We questioned her as delicately as we could and gradually the intrigue that had puzzled us became clear. Ras Fendihook left London on Sunday for a fortnight's engagement at the Eldorado of Havre. As there was no Sunday night boat for Southampton he had to travel to Havre via Paris.
Being a crafty villain, he would not run away with Liosha straight from London. She was to join him a week later, after he had had time to spy out the land and make his nefarious schemes for a mock marriage. His fortnight up, he was sailing away again to America. Liosha was to accompany him. In all probability, for I delight in thinking the worst of Mr. Ras Fendihook, he would have found occasion, towards the end of his tour, of sending her on a fool's errand, say, to Texas, while he worked his way to New York, where he would have an unembarra.s.sed voyage back to England, leaving Liosha floundering helplessly in the railway network of the United States. I have made it my business to enquire into the ways of this entertaining but unholy villain. This is what I am sure he would have done. One girl some half dozen years before he had left penniless in San Francisco and the door over which burns the Red Lamp swallowed her up forever.
For the present, however, Liosha was to join him in Havre. Not a soul must know. He gave sordid instructions as to secrecy. As Jaffery had guessed, he had instigated the comic destination of Westminster Abbey.
Although her open nature abhorred the deception, she obeyed his instructions in minor details and thought she was acting in the spirit of the intrigue when she enclosed the letters to Mrs. Jardine to be posted in London. By risking discovery of her secret during her visit to the admirable lady at Southsea and by ingenuously disclosing the plot to Jaffery she showed herself to be a very sorry conspirator.
She spoke so quietly and bravely that we had not the heart to touch upon the sentimental side of her adventure. As we could not stay in Havre all day at the risk of meeting Mr. Ras Fendihook, who might swagger into the town from his swagger hotel on the _plage_, we carried out Jaffery's proposal, hired an automobile and drove to Etretat. We came straight from inland into the tiny place, so coquettish in its mingling of fisher-folk and fashion, so cut off from the coast world by the jagged needle gates jutting out on each side of the small bay and by the sudden gra.s.s-grown bluff rising above them, so cleanly sparkling in the sunshine, and for the first time Liosha's face brightened. She drew a deep breath.
"Oh, let us all come and live here."
We laughed and wandered among the tarred, up-turned boats wherein the fishermen store their tackle and along the pebbly beach where a few belated bathers bobbed about in the water and up the curious steps to the terrace and listened to the last number of the orchestra. Then lunch at the clean, old-fashioned Hotel Blanquet among the fishing boats; and afterwards coffee and liqueurs in the little shady courtyard. Jaffery was very gentle with Liosha, treating her tenderly like a bruised thing, and talked of his adventures and cracked little jokes and attended solicitously to her wants. Several times I saw her raise her eyes in shy grat.i.tude, and now and then she laughed. Her healthy youth also enabled her to make an excellent meal, and after it she smoked cigarettes and sipped _creme de menthe_ with frank gusto. To me she appeared like a naughty child who instead of meeting with expected punishment finds itself coddled in affectionate arms. All resentment had died away.
Unreservedly she had laid herself as a "d.a.m.n fool" at our feet--or rather at Jaffery's feet, for I did not count for much. Instead of blundering over her and tugging her up and otherwise exacerbating her wounds, he lifted her with tactful kindness to her self-respect. For the first time, save when Susan was the connecting-link, he entered into a spiritual relation with Liosha. She fulfilled his prophecy--she was dealing with a soul-shrivelling situation in a big way. He admired her immensely, as his great robust nature admired immense things. At the same time he realised all in her that was sore and grievously throbbing and needed the delicate touch. I shall never forget those few hours.
To dream away a summer's afternoon had no place, however, in Jaffery's category of delights. He must be up and doing. I have threatened on many restless occasions to rig up at Northlands a gigantic wheel for his benefit similar to that in which Susan's white mice take futile exercise. If there was such a wheel he must, I am sure, get in and whirl it round; just as if there is a boat he must row it, or tree to be felled he must fell it, or a hill to be climbed he must climb it. At Etretat, as it happens, there are two hills. He stretched forth his hand to one, of course the highest, crowned by the fishermen's chapel and ordained an ascent. Liosha was in the chastened mood in which she would have dived with him to the depths of the English Channel. I, with grudging meekness and a prayer for another five minutes devoted to the deglut.i.tion of another liqueur brandy, acquiesced.
It was not such an arduous climb after all. A light breeze tempered the fury of the July sun. The gra.s.s was crisp and agreeable to the feet. The smell of wild thyme mingling with the salt of the low-tide seaweed conveyed stimulating fragrance. When we reached the top and Jaffery suggested that we should lie down, I protested. Why not walk along the edge of the inspiring cliffs?
"It's all very well for you, who've slept like a log all night," said he throwing his huge bulk on the ground, "but Liosha and I need rest."
Liosha stood glowing on the hilltop and panting a little after the quick ascent. A little curly strand on her forehead played charmingly in the wind which blew her skirts close around her in fine modelling. I thought of the Winged Victory.
"I'm not a bit tired," she said.
But seeing Jaffery definitely p.r.o.ne with his bearded chin on his fists, she glanced at me as though she should say: "Who are we to go contrary to his desires?" and settled down beside him.
So I stretched myself, too, on the gra.s.s and we watched the dancing sea and the flashing sails of fishing boats and the long plume from a steamer in the offing and the little town beneath us and the tiny golfers on the cliff on the other side of the bay, and were in fact giving ourselves up to an idyllic afternoon, when suddenly Liosha broke the spell.
"If I had got hold of that man this morning I think I would have killed him."
Since leaving Havre we had not referred to unhappy things.
"It would have served him right," said Jaffery.
"I did strike him once."
"Oh?" said I.
"Yes." She looked out to sea. There was a pause. I longed to hear the details of the scene, which could not have lacked humorous elements. But she left them to my imagination. "After that," she continued, "he saw I was an honest woman and talked about marriage."
Jaffery's fingers fiddled with bits of gra.s.s. "What licks me, my dear,"
said he, "is how you came to take up with the fellow."
She shrugged her shoulders--it was the full shrug of the un-English child of nature. "I don't know," she said, with her gaze still far away.
"He was so funny."
"But he was such a bounder, old lady," said Jaffery, in gentle remonstrance.
"You all said so. But I thought you didn't like him because he was different and could make me laugh. I guess I hated you all very much.
You seemed to want me to behave like Euphemia, and I couldn't behave like Euphemia. I tried very hard when you used to take me out to dinner."
Jaffery looked at her comically. But all he said was: "Go on."
"What can I say?"--she shrugged her shoulders again. "With him I hadn't to be on my best behaviour. I could say anything I liked. You all think it dreadful because I know, like everybody else, how children come into the world, and can make jokes about things like that. Emma used to say it was not ladylike--but he--he did not say so. He laughed. His friends used to laugh. With him and his friends, I could, so to speak, take off my stays"--she threw out her hands largely--"ouf!"
"I see," said Jaffery, frowning at his blades of gra.s.s.
"But between liking, figuratively, to take off your corsets in a crowd of Bohemians and wanting to marry the worst of them lies a big difference. You must have got fond of the fellow," he added, in a low voice.
I said nothing. It was their affair. I was responsible to Barbara for her safe deliverance and here she was delivered. My att.i.tude, as you can understand, was solely one of kindly curiosity. Liosha, for some moments, also said nothing. Rather feverishly she pulled off her new white gloves and cast them away; and I noticed an all but imperceptible something--something, for want of a better word, like a ripple--sweep through her, faintly shaking her bosom, infinitesimally ruffling her neck and dying away in a flush on her cheek.
"You loved the fellow," said Jaffery, still picking at the gra.s.s-blades.
She bent forward, as she sat; hovered over him for a second or two and clutched his shoulder.
"I didn't," she cried. "I didn't." She almost screamed. "I thought you understood. I would have married anybody who would have taken me out of prison. He was going to take me out of prison to places where I could breathe." She fell back onto her heels and beat her breast with both hands. "I was dying for want of air. I was suffocating."
Her intensity caught him. He lumbered to his feet.
"What are you talking about?"
She rose, too, almost with a synchronous movement. An interested spectator, I continued sitting, my hands clasped round my knees.
"The little prison you put me into. I felt this in my throat"--and forgetful of the admirable Mrs. Considine's discipline she mimed her words startlingly--"I was sick--sick--sick to death. You forget, Jaff Chayne, the mountains of Albania."