Lady Connie Read online

  CHAPTER V

  "You do have the oddest ways," said Nora, perched at the foot of hercousin's bed; "why do you stay in bed to breakfast?"

  "Because I always have--and because it's the proper and reasonable thingto do," said Constance defiantly. "Your English custom of coming down athalf past eight to eat poached eggs and bacon is perfectly detestable."

  She waved her teaspoon in Nora's face, and Nora reflected--though hersunburnt countenance was still severe--that Connie was never soattractive as when, in the freshest of white dressing-gowns, proppedamong the lace and silk of her ridiculous pillows and bedspreads, shewas toying with the coffee and roll which Annette brought her at eighto'clock, as she had been accustomed to bring it since Connie was achild. Mrs. Hooper had clearly expressed her disapproval of such habits,but neither Annette nor Connie had paid any attention. Annette had longsince come to an understanding with the servants, and it was she whodescended at half past seven, made the coffee herself, and brought upwith it the nearest thing to the morning rolls of the Palazzo Barberiniwhich Oxford could provide--with a copy of _The Times_ specially orderedfor Lady Constance. The household itself subsisted on a copy of the_Morning Post_, religiously reserved to Mrs. Hooper after Dr. Hooper hadglanced through it--he, of course, saw _The Times_ at the Union. ButConnie regarded a newspaper at breakfast as a necessary part of life.

  After her coffee, accordingly, she read _The Times_, and smoked acigarette, proceedings which were a daily source of wonder to Nora andreprobation in the minds of Mrs. Hooper and Alice. Then she generallywrote her letters, and was downstairs after all by half past ten,dressed and ready for the day. Mrs. Hooper declared to Dr. Ewen that shewould be ashamed for any of their Oxford friends to know that a niece ofhis kept such hours, and that it was a shocking example for theservants. But the maids took it with smiles, and were always ready torun up and down stairs for Lady Connie; while as for Oxford, theinvitations which had descended upon the Hooper family, even during thefew days since Connie's arrival, had given Aunt Ellen some feverishpleasure, but perhaps more annoyance. So far from Ewen's "position"being of any advantage to Connie, it was Connie who seemed likely tobring the Hoopers into circles of Oxford society where they had till nowpossessed but the slenderest footing. An invitation to dinner from theProvost of Winton and Mrs. Manson, to "Dr. and Mrs. Hooper, Miss Hooperand Lady Constance Bledlow," to meet an archbishop, had fairly takenMrs. Hooper's breath away. But she declaimed to Alice none the less inprivate on the innate snobbishness of people.

  Nora, however, wished to understand.

  "I can't imagine why you should read _The Times_," she said withemphasis, as Connie pushed her tray away, and looked for her cigarettes."What have you to do with politics?"

  "Why, _The Times_ is all about people I know!" said Connie, openingamused eyes. "Look there!" And she pointed to the newspaper lying openamid the general litter of her morning's post, and to a paragraph amongthe foreign telegrams describing the excitement in Rome over a change ofMinistry. "Fall of the Italian Cabinet. The King sends for the MarcheseBardinelli."

  "And there's a letter from Elisa Bardinelli, telling me all about it!"She tossed some closely-written sheets to Nora, who took them updoubtfully.

  "It is in Italian!" she said, as though she resented the fact.

  "Well, of course! Did you think it would be in Russian? You really oughtto learn Italian, Nora. Shall I teach you?"

  "Well--it might be useful for my Literature," said Nora slowly. "Thereare all those fellows Chaucer borrowed from--and then Shakespeare. Iwouldn't mind."

  "Thank you!" said Connie, laughing. "And then look at the French news.That's thrilling! Sir Wilfrid's going to throw up the Embassy andretire. I stayed with them a night in Paris on my way through--and theynever breathed. But I thought something was up. Sir Wilfrid's a queertemper. I expect he's had a row with the Foreign Office. They were yearsin Rome, and of course we knew them awfully well. Mamma adored her!"

  And leaning back with her hands behind her head, Connie's sparkling looksubsided for a moment into a dreamy sweetness.

  "I suppose you think Oxford a duck-pond after all that!" said Norapugnaciously.

  Constance laughed.

  "Why, it's new. It's experience. It's all to the good."

  "Oh, you needn't suppose I am apologising for Oxford!" cried Nora. "Ithink, of course, it's the most interesting place in the world. It'sideas that matter, and ideas come from the universities!" And thechild-student of seventeen drew herself up proudly, as though she borethe honour of all _academie_ on her sturdy shoulders.

  Constance went into a fit of laughter.

  "And I think they come from the people who do things, and not only fromthe people who read and write about them when they're done. Butgoodness--what does it matter where they come from? Go away, Nora, andlet me dress!"

  "There are several things I want to know," said Nora deliberately, notbudging. "Where did you get to know Mr. Falloden?"

  The colour ran up inconveniently in Connie's cheeks.

  "I told you," she said impatiently. "No!--I suppose you weren't there. Imet him on the Riviera. He came out for the Christmas holidays. He wasin the villa next to us, and we saw him every day."

  "How you must have hated him!" said Nora, with energy, her hands roundher knees, her dark brows frowning.

  Constance laughed again, but rather angrily.

  "Why should I hate him, please? He's extraordinarily clever--"

  "Yes, but such a snob!" said Nora, setting her white teeth. Conniesprang up in bed.

  "Nora, really, the way you talk of other people's friends. You shouldlearn--indeed, you should--not to say rude and provoking things!"

  "Why should it provoke you? I'm certain you don't care for him--youcan't!" cried Nora. "He's the most hectoring, overbearing creature! Theway he took possession of you the other day at the boats! Of course hedidn't care, if he made everybody talk about you!"

  Constance turned a little white.

  "Why should anybody talk?" she said coldly. "But really, Nora, I mustturn you out. I shall ring for Annette." She raised herself in bed.

  "No, no!" Nora caught her hand as it stretched out towards the bell."Oh, Connie, you shall not fall in love with Mr. Falloden! I should gomad if you did."

  "You are mad already," said Constance, half laughing, half furious. "Itell you Mr. Falloden is a friend of mine--as other people are. He isvery good company, and I won't have him abused--for nothing. His mannersare abominable. I have told him so dozens of times. All the same, heamuses me--and interests me--and you are not to talk about him, Nora, ifyou can't talk civilly."

  And looking rather formidably great-ladyish, Constance threw severeglances at her cousin.

  Nora stood up, first on one foot, then on the other. She was burstingwith things to say, and could not find words to say them in. At last shebroke out--

  "I'm not abusing him for nothing! If you only knew the horrid, rudethings--mean things too--at dances and parties--he does to some of thegirls I know here; just because they're not swells and not rich, and hedoesn't care what they think about him. That's what I call asnob--judging people by whether they're rich and important--by whetherit's worth while to know them. Hateful!"

  "You foolish child!" cried Connie. "He's so rich and important himself,what can it matter to him? You talk as though he were a hanger-on--asthough he had anything to gain by making up to people. You are absurd!"

  "Oh, no--I know he's not like Herbert Pryce," said Nora, panting, butundaunted. "There, that was disgusting of me!--don't remember that Iever said that, Connie!--I know Mr. Falloden needn't be a snob, becausehe's got everything that snobs want--and he's clever besides. But it issnobbish all the same to be so proud and stand-off, to like to makeother people feel small and miserable, just that you may feel big."

  "Go away!" said Constance, and taking up one of her pillows, she threwit neatly at Nora, who dodged it with equal skill. Nora retreated to theother side of the door, then quickly put her head
through again.

  "Connie!--don't!"

  "Go away!" repeated Connie, smiling, but determined.

  Nora looked at her appealingly, then shut her lips firmly, turned andwent away. Connie spent a few minutes in meditation. She resented thekind of quasi-guardianship that this clever _backfisch_ assumed towardsher, though she knew it meant that Nora had fallen in love with her. Butit was inconvenient to be so fallen in love with--if it was to meaninterference with her private affairs.

  "As if I couldn't protect myself!"

  The mere thought of Douglas Falloden was agitating enough, without theconsciousness that a pair of hostile eyes, so close to her, were onthe watch.

  She sprang up, and went through her dressing, thinking all the time."What do I really feel about him? I am going to ride with him onMonday--without telling anybody; I vowed I would never put myself in hispower again. And I am deliberately doing it. I am in my guardian'shouse, and I am treating Uncle Ewen vilely."

  And why?--why these lapses from good manners and good feeling? Was sheafter all in love with him? If he asked her to marry him again, as hehad asked her to marry him before, would she now say yes, instead of no?Not at all! She was further--she declared--from saying yes now, than shehad been under his first vehement attack. And yet she was quitedetermined to ride with him. The thought of their rides in the radiantChristmas sunshine at Cannes came back upon her with a rush. They hadbeen one continuous excitement, simply because it was Falloden who rodebeside her--Falloden, who after their merry dismounted lunch under thepines, had swung her to her saddle again--her little foot in his stronghand--so easily and powerfully. It was Falloden who, when she and two orthree others of the party found themselves by mistake on a dangerousbridle-path, on the very edge of a steep ravine in the Esterels, and herhorse had become suddenly restive, had thrown himself off his own mount,and passing between her horse and the precipice, where any suddenmovement of the frightened beast would have sent him to his death, hadseized the bridle and led her into safety. And yet all the time, she haddisliked him almost as much as she had been drawn to him. None of themany signs of his autocratic and imperious temper had escaped her, andthe pride in her had clashed against the pride in him. To flirt with himwas one thing. The cloud of grief and illness, which had fallen soheavily on her youth, was just lifting under the natural influences oftime at the moment when she and Falloden first came across each other.It was a moment for her of strong reaction, of a welling-up andwelling-back of life, after a kind of suspension. The strong young,fellow, with his good looks, his masterful ways, and his ability--inspite of the barely disguised audacity which seemed inseparable from thehomage it pleased him to pay to women--had made a deep and thrillingimpression upon her youth and sex.

  And yet she had never hesitated when he had asked her to marry him. Ridewith him--laugh with him--quarrel with him, yes!--marry him, no!Something very deep in her recoiled. She refused him, and then had lainawake most of the night thinking of her mother and feeling ecstaticallysure, while the tears came raining, that the dear ghost approved thatpart of the business at least, if no other.

  And how could there be any compunction about it? Douglas Falloden, withhis egotism, his pride in himself, his family, his wits, his boundlessconfidence in his own brilliant future, was surely fair game. Such mendo not break their hearts for love. She had refused his request that hemight write to her without a qualm; and mostly because she imagined sovividly what would have been his look of triumph had she granted it.Then she had spent the rest of the winter and early spring in thinkingabout him. And now she was going to do this reckless thing, out ofsheer wilfulness, sheer thirst for adventure. She had always been aspoilt child, brought up with boundless indulgence, and accustomed toall the excitements of life. It looked as though Douglas Falloden wereto be her excitement in Oxford. Girls like the two Miss Mansons mighttake possession of him in public, so long as she commanded thoseundiscovered rides and talks which revealed the real man. At the sametime, he should never be able to feel secure that she would do hisbidding, or keep appointments. As soon as Lady Laura's civil notearrived, she was determined to refuse it. He had counted on her coming;therefore she would not go. Her first move had been a deliberate check;her second should be a concession. In any case she would keep theupper hand.

  Nevertheless there was an inner voice which mocked, through all thepatting and curling and rolling applied by Annette's skilled hands toher mistress's brown hair. Had not Falloden himself arranged this wholeadventure ahead?--found her a horse and groom, while she was still inthe stage of thinking about them, and settled the place of rendezvous?

  She could not deny it; but her obstinate confidence in her own powersand will was not thereby in the least affected. She was going because itamused her to go; not because he prescribed it.

  The following day, Saturday, witnessed an unexpected stream of callerson Mrs. Hooper. She was supposed to be at home on Saturday afternoons toundergraduates; but the undergraduates who came were few and shy. Theycalled out of respect for the Reader, whose lectures they attended andadmired. But they seldom came a second time; for although Alice had herfollowing of young men, it was more amusing to meet her anywhere elsethan under the eyes of her small, peevish mother, who seemed to be ableto talk of nothing else than ailments and tabloids, and whether the Bathor the Buxton waters were the better for her own kind of rheumatism.

  On this afternoon, however, the Hoopers' little drawing-room and thelawn outside were crowded with folk. Alexander Sorell arrived early, andfound Constance in a white dress strolling up and down the lawn under ascarlet parasol and surrounded by a group of men with whom she had madeacquaintance on the Christ Church barge. She received him with apleasure, an effusion, which made a modest man blush.

  "This is nice of you!--I wondered whether you'd come!"

  "I thought you'd seen too much of me this week already!" he said,smiling--"but I wanted to arrange with you when I might take you to callon the Master of Beaumont. To-morrow?"

  "I shall be plucked, you'll see! You'll be ashamed of me."

  "I'll take my chance. To-morrow then, at four o'clock before chapel?"

  Constance nodded--"Delighted!"--and was then torn from him by her uncle,who had fresh comers to introduce to her. But Sorell was quite contentto watch her from a distance, or to sit talking in a corner with Nora,whom he regarded as a child,--"a jolly, clever, little thing!"--whilehis mind was full of Constance.

  The mere sight of her--the slim willowy creature, with herdistinguished head and her beautiful eyes--revived in him the memory ofsome of his happiest and most sacred hours. It was her mother who hadproduced upon his own early maturity one of those critical impressions,for good or evil, which men so sensitive and finely strung owe to women.The tenderness, the sympathy, the womanly insight of Ella Risborough haddrawn him out of one of those fits of bitter despondency which are soapt to beset the scholar just emerging, strained and temporarilyinjured, from the first contests of life.

  He had done brilliantly at Oxford--more than brilliantly--and he hadpaid for overwork by a long break-down. After getting his fellowship hehad been ordered abroad for rest and travel. There was nobody to helphim, nobody to think for him. His father and mother were dead; and ofnear relations he had only a brother, established in business atLiverpool, with whom he had little or nothing in common. At Rome he hadfallen in with the Risboroughs, and had wandered with them during awhole spring through enchanted land of Sicily, where it gradually becamebearable again to think of the too-many things he knew, and to applythem to his own pleasure and that of his companions. Ella Risborough wasthen forty-two, seventeen years older than himself, and her onlydaughter was a child of sixteen. He had loved them all--father, mother,and child--with the adoring gratitude of one physically and morallyorphaned, to whom a new home and family has been temporarily given. ForElla and her husband had taken a warm affection to the refined andmodest fellow, and could not do enough for him. His fellowship, and somesmall savings, gave him all the
money he wanted, but he was starved ofeverything else that Man's kindred can generally provide--sympathy, andunderstanding without words, and the little gaieties and kindnesses ofevery day. These the Risboroughs offered him without stint, and rejoicedto see him taking hold on life again under the sunshine they made forhim. After six months he was quite restored to health, and he went backto Oxford to devote himself to his college work.

  Twice afterwards he had gone to Rome on short visits to see theRisboroughs. Then had come the crash of Lady Risborough's sudden deathfollowed by that of her husband. The bitterness of Sorell's grief wasincreased by the fact that he saw no means, at that time, of continuinghis friendship with their orphan child. Indeed his fastidious andscrupulous temperament forbade him any claim of the kind. He shrank frombeing misunderstood. Constance, in the hands of Colonel King and hiswife, was well cared for, and the shrewd and rather suspicious soldierwould certainly have looked askance on the devotion of a man aroundthirty, without fortune or family, to a creature so attractive and sodesirable as Constance Bledlow.

  So he had held aloof, and as Constance resentfully remembered she hadreceived but two letters from him since her father's death. Ewen Hooper,with whom he had an academic rather than a social acquaintance, had kepthim generally informed about her, and he knew that she was expected inOxford. But again he did not mean to put himself forward, or to remindher unnecessarily of his friendship with her parents. At theVice-Chancellor's party, indeed, an old habit of looking after her hadseized him again, and he had not been able to resist it. But it was herlong disappearance with Falloden, her heightened colour, and preoccupiedmanner when they parted at the college gate, together with the incidentat the boat-races of which he had been a witness, which had suddenlydeveloped a new and fighting resolve in him. If there was one type inOxford he feared and detested more than another it was the Fallodentype. To him, a Hellene in temper and soul--if to be a Hellene meansgentleness, reasonableness, lucidity, the absence of all selfishpretensions--men like Falloden were the true barbarians of the day, andthe more able the more barbarian.

  Thus, against his own will and foresight, he was on the way to become afrequenter of the Hoopers' house. He had called on Wednesday, taken thewhole party to the boats on Thursday, and given them supper afterwardsin his rooms. They had all met again at the boats on Friday, and here hewas on Saturday, that he might make plans with Constance for Sunday andfor several other days ahead. He was well aware that things could not goon at that pace; but he was determined to grasp the situation, and gaugethe girl's character, if he could.

  The tea-party at Mrs. Hooper's]

  He saw plainly that her presence at the Hoopers was going to transformthe household in various unexpected ways. On this Saturday afternoonMrs. Hooper's stock of teacups entirely ran out; so did her gardenchairs. Mrs. Manson called--and Lord Meyrick, under the wing of a youngfellow of All Souls, smooth-faced and slim, one of the "mighty men" ofthe day, just taking wing for the bar and Parliament. Falloden, heunderstood, had put in an appearance earlier in the afternoon; HerbertPryce, and Bobbie Vernon of Magdalen, a Blue of the first eminence,skirmished round and round the newcomer, taking possession of her whenthey could. Mrs. Hooper, under the influence of so much social success,showed a red and flustered countenance, and her lace cap went awry.Alice helped her mother in the distribution of tea, but was curiouslysilent and self-effaced. It was dismally true that the men who usuallypaid attention to her were now entirely occupied with Constance. BobbieVernon, who was artistic, was holding an ardent though intermittentdiscussion with Constance on the merits of old pictures and new. Pryceoccasionally took part in it, but only, as Sorell soon perceived, forthe sake of diverting a few of Connie's looks and gestures, a sally or asmile, now and then to himself.

  In the middle of it she turned abruptly towards Sorell. Her eyesbeckoned, and he carried her off to the further end of the garden, wherethey were momentarily alone. There she fell upon him.

  "Why did you never write to me all last winter?"

  He could not help a slight flush.

  "You had so many friends without me," he said, stammeringly, at last.

  "One hasn't so many old friends." The voice was reproachful. "I thoughtyou must be offended with me."

  "How could I be!"

  "And you call me Lady Constance," she went on indignantly. "When did youever do such a thing in Rome, or when we were travelling?"

  His look betrayed his feeling.

  "Ah, but you were a little girl then, and now--"

  "Now"--she said impatiently--"I am just Constance Bledlow, as I wasthen--to you. But I don't give away my Christian name to everybody. Idon't like, for instance, being forced to give it to Aunt Ellen!"

  And she threw a half-laughing, half-imperious glance towards Mrs. Hooperin the distance.

  Sorell smiled.

  "I hope you're going to be happy here!" he said earnestly.

  "I shall be happy enough--if I don't quarrel with Aunt Ellen!"

  "Don't quarrel with anybody! Call me in, before you do. And do makefriends with your uncle. He is delightful."

  "Yes, but far too busy for the likes of me. Oh, I dare say I shall keepout of mischief."

  But he thought he detected in her tone a restlessness, a forlornness,which pained him.

  "Why not take up some study--some occupation? Learn something--go in forHonours!" he said, laughing.

  She laughed too, but with a very decided shake of the head. Then sheturned upon him suddenly.

  "But there is something I should like to learn! Papa began to teach me.I should like to learn Greek."

  "Bravo!" he said, with a throb of pleasure. "And take me for a teacher!"

  "Do you really mean it?"

  "Entirely." They strolled on, arranging times and seasons, Constancethrowing herself into the scheme with a joyous and childlike zest.

  "Mind you--I shall make you work!" he said firmly.

  "Rather! May Nora come too?--if she wishes? I like Nora!"

  "Does that mean--"

  "Only that Alice doesn't like me!" she said with a frank smile. "But Iagree--my uncle is a dear."

  "And I hear you are going to ride?"

  "Yes. Mr. Falloden has found me a horse and groom."

  "When did you come to know Mr. Falloden? I don't remember anybody ofthat name at the Barberini."

  She explained carelessly.

  "You are going out alone?"

  "In general. Sometimes, no doubt, I shall find a friend. I mustride!"--she shook her shoulders impatiently--"else I shall suffocate inthis place. It's beautiful--Oxford!--but I don't understand it--it's notmy friend yet. You remember that mare of mine in Rome--Angelica! I wanta good gallop--God and the grass!"

  She laughed and stretched her long and slender arms, clasping her handsabove her head. He realised in her, with a disagreeable surprise, thenote that was so unlike her mother--the note of recklessness, ofvehement will. It was really ill-luck that some one else than DouglasFalloden could not have been found to look after her riding.

  * * * * *

  "I suppose you will be 'doing' the Eights all next week?" said HerbertPryce to the eldest Miss Hooper.

  Alice coldly replied that she supposed it was necessary to take Connieto all the festivities.

  "What!--such a _blase_ young woman! She seems to have been everywhereand seen everything already. She will be able to give you and Miss Noraall sorts of hints," said the mathematical tutor, with a touch of thatpatronage which was rarely absent from his manner to Alice Hooper. Hewas well aware of her interest in him, and flattered by it; but, to dohim justice, he had not gone out of his way to encourage it. She hadbeen all very well, with her pretty little French face, before thisstriking creature, her cousin, appeared on the scene. And now of courseshe was jealous--that was inevitable. But it was well girls should learnto measure themselves against others--should find their proper place.

  All the same, he was quite fond of her, the small kittenish thi
ng. Anold friend of his, and of the Hoopers, had once described her as a girl"with a real talent for flirtation and an engaging penury of mind."Pryce thought the description good. She could be really engagingsometimes, when she was happy and amused, and properly dressed. But eversince the appearance of Constance Bledlow she seemed to have sufferedeclipse; to have grown plain and dull.

  He stayed talking to her, however, a little while, seeing that ConstanceBledlow had gone indoors; and then he departed. Alice ran upstairs,locked her door, and stood looking at herself in the glass. She hatedher dress, her hat, the way she had done her hair. The image ofConstance in her white silk hat with its drooping feathers, herdelicately embroidered dress and the necklace on her shapely throat,tormented her. She was sick with envy--and with fear. For months she hadclung to the belief that Herbert Pryce would ask her to marry him. Andnow all expectation of the magic words was beginning to fade from hermind. In one short week, as it seemed to her, she had been utterlyeclipsed and thrown aside. Bob Vernon too, whose fancy for her, as shownin various winter dances, had made her immensely proud, he being then inthat momentary limelight which flashes on the Blue, as he passes overthe Oxford scene--Vernon had scarcely had a word for her. She never knewthat he cared about pictures! And there was Connie--knowing everythingabout pictures!--able to talk about everything! As she had listened toConnie's talk, she had felt fairly bewildered. Of course it was nocredit to Connie to be able to rattle off all those names and things. Itwas because she had lived in Italy. And no doubt a great deal of it wasshowing off.

  All the same, poor miserable Alice felt a bitter envy of Connie'sopportunities.