The Wicked Marquis Read online

  CHAPTER XIV

  Marcia, more especially perhaps during these later days, felt her senseof humour gently excited every time she crossed the threshold ofTrewly's Restaurant. The programme which followed was always the same.The Marquis rose from a cushioned seat in the small entrance lounge togreet her, very distinguished looking in his plain dinner clothes, hisblack stock, vainly imitated by the younger generation, his horn-rimmedeyeglass, his cambric-fronted shirt with the black pearls, which hadbeen the gift of the Regent to his great-grandfather. The head waiter,and generally the manager, hovered in the background while theirgreetings were exchanged and Marcia's coat delivered to the care of anattendant. Then they were shown with much ceremony to the same tablewhich they had occupied on these weekly celebrations for many years.It was in a corner of the room, a corner which formed a slight recess,and special flowers, the gift of the management, were invariably inevidence. The rose-shaded lamp, with its long, silken hangings, wasarranged at precisely the right angle. The Marquis asked his usualquestion and waved away the menu.

  "What you choose to offer us, Monsieur Herbrand," he would say, in hisold-world but perfect French. "If Madame has any fancy, we will sendyou a message."

  So the meal commenced. Trewly's was a restaurant with a past. In thedays of the Marquis's youth, when such things were studied morecarefully than now, it was the one first-class restaurant in London towhich the gilded youth of the aristocracy, and perhaps their sires,might indulge in the indiscretion of entertaining a young lady from theItalian chorus without fear of meeting staider relatives. The world ofbohemian fashion had changed its laws since those days, and Trewly'shad been left, high and dry, save for a small clientele who rememberedits former glories and esteemed its cellar and cuisine. It belonged tothe world which the Marquis knew, the world whose maxims he stillrecognised. After all these years, he would still have thought himselfcommitting a breach of social etiquette if he had invited Marcia tolunch with him at the Ritz or the Carlton.

  They drank claret, decanted with zealous care and served by ablack-aproned cellarman, who waited anxiously by until the Marquis hadgravely sipped his first glassful and approved. Their dinner to-daywas very much what it had been a dozen years ago--the French-fedchicken, the artichokes, and strawberries served with liqueursremained, whatever the season. And their conversations. Marcia leanedback in her chair for a moment, and again the corners of her lipstwitched as she remembered. Faithfully, year after year, she couldtrace those conversations--the courtly, old-fashioned criticism of theevents of the week, criticism from the one infallible standard, thestandard of the immutable Whiggism upon which the constitution itselfrested; conversation with passing references to any new event in art,and, until lately, the stage. To-night Marcia found herself tracingthe gradual birth of her stimulating rebellion. She remembered how,years ago, she had sat in that same seat and listened as one mightlisten to the words of a god. And then came the faint revolt, thedevelopment of her intellect, the necessity for giving tongue to thosemore expansive and more subtle views of life which became her heritage.To do him justice, the Marquis encouraged her. He was as good a judgeof wit and spirit as he was of claret. If Marcia had expressed asingle sentence awkwardly, if her grammar had ever been at fault, hertaste to be questioned, he would have relapsed into the stiffness ofhis ordinary manner, and she would have felt herself tongue-tied. But,curious though it seemed to her when she looked back, she was forced torealise that it was he who had always encouraged the birth of her newthoughts, her new ideals, her new outlook upon life, her own drasticand sometimes unanswerable criticisms of that state of life in which helived. She represented modernity, seeking for expression in theculture of the moment. He, remaining of the ancient world, yet foundhimself rejuvenated, mentally refreshed, week by week, preserved fromthat condition of obstinate ossification into which he would otherwisehave fallen, by this brilliant and unusual companionship. In all themany years of their intimacy he had felt no doubts concerning her. Hewas possessed of a self-confidence wholly removed from conceit, whichhad spared for him the knowledge of even a moment's jealousy. In hercompany he had felt the coming and, as he now realised, the passing ofmiddle age. It was only within these last few hours that certainformless apprehensions had presented themselves to him.

  "You drink your wine slowly to-night," she observed. "I was justthinking how delicious it was."

  He touched the long forefinger of his left hand, just a little swollen.

  "A touch of gout," he said, "come to remind me, I suppose, that howevermuch we set our faces against it, change does exist. You are the onlyperson, Marcia, who seems to defy it."

  She laughed at him, but not with entire naturalness. He found himselfstudying her, during the next few moments. Just as he was a celebratedconnoisseur of _objets d'arts_, a valued visitor to Christie's,although his purchases were small, so he was, in his way, an excellentjudge of the beautiful in living things. He realised, as he studiedher, that Marcia had only more fully developed the charm which hadfirst attracted him. Her figure was a little rounder but it had lostnone of its perfections. Her neck and throat were just as beautiful,and the success of her work, and her greater knowledge of life, hadbrought with them an assured and dignified bearing. There was not avestige of grey in her soft brown hair, not a line in her face, nor anysign of the dentist's handiwork in her strong, white teeth. Only--wasit his fancy, he wondered, or was there something missing from the wayshe looked at him?--a half shy, half baffled appeal for affection whichhad so often shone out upon him during these evenings, a whollypersonal, wholly human note, the unspoken message of a woman to herlover. He asked himself whether that had gone, and, if it had, whetherthe companionship which remained sufficed.

  "So the journey down to Mandeleys has not materialised yet?" he asked.

  She shook her head.

  "To tell you the truth," she told him, "I rather shrank from it. Icould not seem to bring it into perspective--you know what I mean. Howam I to go to him? I don't suppose he has changed. He is stillsplendidly faithful to the ideas of his earlier days. I do not supposehe has moved a step out of his groove. He is looking at the samethings in the same way. Am I to go to him as a Magdalen, as apenitent? Honestly, Reginald, I couldn't play the part."

  Their eyes met, and they both smiled.

  "It is very difficult," he admitted, "to discuss or to hold in common amatter of importance with a person of another world. Why do you go?"

  "Because," she replied, "he is, after all, my father; because I knowthat the pain and rage which he felt when he left England are thereto-day, and I would like so much to make him see that they have allbeen wasted. I want him to realise that my life has been made, notspoilt."

  "I should find out indirectly, if I were you, how he is feeling," theMarquis advised. "I rather agree with you that you will find himunchanged. His fierce opposition to my reasonable legal movementsagainst him give one that impression."

  "I shall probably be sorry I went," she admitted, "but it seems to methat it is one of those things which must be done. Let us talk ofsomething else. Tell me how you have spent the week?"

  "For one thing, I have improved my acquaintance with the American,David Thain, of whom I have already spoken to you," he told her.

  "And your great financial scheme?"

  "It promises well. Of course, if it is entirely successful, it will belike starting life all over again."

  "There is a certain amount of risk, I suppose?" she asked, a littleanxiously.

  The Marquis waved his hand.

  "In this affair quite negligible," he declared.

  "It would make you very happy, of course, to free the estates," sheruminated.

  The Marquis for a moment revealed a side of himself which always madeMarcia feel almost maternal towards him.

  "It would give me very great pleasure, also," he confessed, "to pointout to my solicitors--to Mr. Wadham, Junior, especially--that the taskwhich they have lef
t unaccomplished for some twenty-five years I havemyself undertaken successfully."

  "This Mr. Thain must be rather interesting," Marcia said musingly."Could you describe him?"

  It was at that precise moment that the Marquis raised his head anddiscovered that David Thain was being shown by an obsequious _maitred'hotel_ to the table adjoining their own.

  In the case of almost any other of his acquaintances, the Marquis'scourse of action would have been entirely simple. David, however,complicated things. With the naive courtesy of his American bringingup, he no sooner recognised the Marquis than he approached the tableand offered his hand.

  "Good evening, Marquis," he said.

  The Marquis shook hands. Some banalities passed between the two men.Then, as though for the first time, David was suddenly and vividlyaware of Marcia's presence. Some instinct told him who she was, andfor a moment he forgot himself. He looked at her steadily, curiously,striving to remember, and Marcia returned his gaze with a strangeabsorption which at first she failed to understand. This slim,nervous-looking man, with the earnest eyes and the slight stoop of thehead, was bringing back to her some memory. From the first stage ofthe struggle her common sense was worsted. She was looking back downthe avenues of her memory. Surely somewhere in that shadowland she hadknown some one with eyes like these!--there must be something toexplain this queer sense of excitement. And then the Marquis, who hadbeen deliberating, spoke the words which brought her to herself.

  "Marcia, let me present to you Mr. David Thain, of whom we werespeaking a few minutes ago. Mr. Thain, this is Miss Marcia Hannaway,whose very clever novel you may have read."

  David's eyes were still eagerly fixed upon her face, but theintroduction had brought Marcia back to the earth. There could be noconnection between those half-formed memories and the Americanmillionaire whose name was almost a household word!

  "I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Hannaway," David said. "I wasjust telling the Marquis that I was surprised to find any one here whomI knew. I asked a friend to tell me of a restaurant near my roomswhere I should meet no one, and he sent me here."

  "Why such misanthropy?" she asked.

  "It is my own bad manners," he explained. "I accepted an invitationfor this evening, and found at the last moment so much work that I wasobliged to send an excuse."

  "You carry your work about with you, then?"

  "Not always, I hope," he replied, "only I am just now clearing out agreat many of my interests in America, and that alone is sufficient tokeep one busy."

  He passed on with a little bow, and took his place at the table whichthe _maitre d'hotel_ had indicated. The Marquis, to whom his cominghad been without any real significance, continued his conversation withMarcia until he found to his surprise that she was giving him less thanher whole attention.

  "What do you think of our hero of finance?" he enquired, a littlecoldly.

  "He seems very much as you described him," Marcia answered. "To tellyou the truth, his sudden appearance just as we were talking about himrather took my breath away."

  "It was a coincidence, without doubt," the Marquis acknowledged.

  Her eyes wandered towards the man who had given his brief order fordinner, and whose whole attention now seemed absorbed by the newspaperwhich he was reading.

  "It is Mr. Thain, is it not, who introduced to you this wonderfulspeculation?" she asked, a little abruptly.

  "That is so," the Marquis admitted. "I have always myself, however,been favourably disposed towards oil."

  Marcia suddenly withdrew her glance, laughed softly to herself andsipped her wine.

  "I was indulging in a ridiculous train of thought," she confessed."Mr. Thain looks very clever, even if he is not exactly one's idea ofan American financier. I expect the poor man does get hunted about. Amillionaire, especially from foreign parts, has become a sort of MonteCristo, nowadays."

  The subject of David Thain dropped. The Marquis, as their coffee wasbrought, began to wonder dimly whether it was possible that the threadof their conversation was a little more difficult to hold together thanin the past; whether that bridge between their interests and daily lifebecame a little more difficult to traverse as the years passed. Hefell into a momentary fit of silence. Marcia leaned towards him.

  "Reginald," she said, "do you know, there was something I wanted to askyou this evening. Shall I ask it now?"

  "If you will, dear."

  She paused for a moment. The matter had seemed so easy and reasonablewhen she had revolved it in her mind, yet at this moment of broachingit, she realised, not for the first time, how different he was fromother men; how difficult a nameless something about his environmentmade certain discussions. Nevertheless, she commenced her task.

  "Reginald," she began, "do you realise that during the whole of my lifeI have never dined alone with any other man but you?"

  "Nor I, since you came, with any other woman," he rejoined calmly."You have some proposition to make?"

  She was surprised to find that he had penetrated her thoughts.

  "Don't you think, perhaps," she continued, "that we are a little tooself-enclosing? Thanks to you, as I always remember, dear, the worldhas grown a larger place for me, year by year. At first I really triedto avoid friendships. I was perfectly satisfied. I did not need them.But my work, somehow, has made things different. It has brought meamongst a class of people who look upon freedom of intercourse betweenthe sexes as a part of their everyday life. I found a grey hair in myhead only the night before last, and do you know how it came? Just byrefusing invitations from perfectly harmless people."

  "I have never placed any restrictions upon your life," her companionreminded her.

  "I know it," she admitted, "but, you see, the principal things betweenus have always been unspoken. I knew just how you felt about it. WhatI want to know is, now that the times have changed around you as wellas around me, whether you would feel just the same if I, to take anexample, were to lunch or dine with Mr. Borden, now and then, or withMorris Hyde, the explorer. I met him at an Authors' Club_conversazione_ and he was immensely interesting. It struck me thenthat perhaps I was interpreting your wishes a little too literally."

  The Marquis selected a cigarette from his battered gold case with itstiny coronet, tapped it upon the table and lit it. Marcia was alreadysmoking.

  "I fear that I am very old-fashioned in my notions, Marcia," heconfessed. "I should find it very difficult to adapt myself to theperfectly harmless, I am sure, lack of restraint which, as you say, hasopened the doors to a much closer friendship between men and women.The place which you have held in my life has grown rather than lessenedwith the years. It is only natural, however, that the opposite shouldbe the case with you. I should like to consider what you have said,Marcia."

  "You have meant so much to me," she continued, "you have been so much.In our earlier days, too, especially during that year when wetravelled, you were such a wonderful mentor. It was your fine taste,Reginald, which enabled me to make the best of those months in Florenceand Rome. You knew the best, and you showed it to me. You never triedto understand why it was the best, but you never made a mistake."

  "Those things are matters of inheritance," he replied, "andcultivation. It was a great joy to me, Marcia, to give you the keys."

  "Yes," she repeated, "that is what you did, Reginald--you gave me thekeys, and I opened the doors."

  "And now," he went on, "you have pushed your way further, much furtherinto the world where men and women think, than I could or should careto follow you. Is it likely to separate us?"

  She saw him suddenly through a little mist of tears.

  "No!" she exclaimed, "it must not! It shall not!"

  "Nevertheless," he persisted, "the thought is in your mind. I cannotalter my life, Marcia. I live to a certain extent by tradition, and byhabits which have become too strong to break. There is a greatdifference in our years and in our outlook upon life. There is muchbefore you, fl
owers which you may pick and heights which you may climb,which can have no message for me."

  "Nothing," Marcia declared fervently, "shall disturb our--ourfriendship."

  "That does not rest with you, dear, but rather with Fate," he replied."You might control your actions, and I know that you would, but yourwill, your desires, your temperament, may still lead you in oppositedirections. I have been your lover too long to slip easily into theplace of your guardian. Hold out your hand, if you will, now, and bidme farewell. Try the other things, and, if they fail you, send for me."

  "I shall do nothing of the sort," she objected. "We are both of usmuch too serious. The only question we are considering is whether youwould object to my dining with Mr. Borden and lunching with Mr. Hyde?"

  "It would give you an opportunity," he remarked, with a rather grimsmile, "of seeing the inside of some other restaurant."

  "How understanding you are!" she exclaimed. "Do you know, although Ilove our dinners here, I sometimes feel as though this room were alittle cage, a little corner of the world across the threshold of whichyou had drawn a chalk line, so that no one of your world or mine mightenter. The coming of Mr. Thain was almost like an earthquake."

  With every moment it seemed to him that he understood her a littlemore, and with every moment the pain of it all increased.

  "My dear Marcia," he said, "you have spoken the word. More than oncelately I have fancied that I noticed indications of this desire on yourpart. I am glad, therefore, that you have spoken. Dine with yourpublisher, by all means, and lunch with Mr. Hyde. Take to yourselfthat greater measure of liberty which it is only too natural that youshould covet. We will look upon it as a brief vacation, whichcertainly, after all these years, you have earned. When you have madeup your mind, write to me. I shall await your letter with interest."

  "But you mean that you are not coming down to see me before then?" sheasked, a little tremulously.

  "I think it would be better not," he decided. "I have kept you tomyself very stringently, Marcia. You see, I recognise this, and I setyou free for a time."

  He paid the bill, and they left the room together.

  "You are coming home?" she whispered, as they passed down the vestibule.

  He shook his head.

  "Not to-night, if you will excuse me, Marcia," he said. "The car ishere. I will take a cab myself. There is a meeting of the committeeat my club."

  They were on the pavement. She gripped his hand.

  "Do come," she begged.

  He handed her in with a smile.

  "You will go down to Battersea, James," he told the chauffeur, "andfetch me afterwards from the club."

  A queer feeling caught at her heart as the car glided off and left himstanding there, bareheaded. It was the first time--she felt somethinglike the snap of a chain in her heart--the first time in all theseyears! Yet she never for a moment deceived herself. The tears whichstood in her eyes, the pain in her heart, were for him.