The Lady of the Basement Flat by Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey - HTML preview

Chapter Twenty Six.

Love’s a New Life.

Late that night, after the two men had left, Charmion and I sat together over the bedroom fire, and talked and talked. Her lips were opened now, and she could talk without the old restraint. It seemed a relief to her to talk. I asked if “Edward” had ever discovered who was the sender of the fatal letter. “No,” she said, “not actually. He is practically certain, but he did not trouble to bring it home. The mischief was done. Anyone who had a heart must have been sufficiently punished by the knowledge of the misery she had caused. He left her to that, but, oh! Evelyn, what a conception of love! to try to poison a man’s home because he had chosen another woman as his wife! Not that I am much better! I have no right to speak.”

Her lips quivered. She confessed to me that, on reading the two letters, she had been overcome with sorrow and remorse, but that Edward had refused to listen to her laments. They had both been wrong; each had an equal need of forgiveness, the suffering in either case had been intense—not another moment must be wasted! Away with bitterness, away with remorse, the future lay ahead, it should not be wasted in vain regrets. Then, blushing and aglow, she told me her plans. “To-morrow—to-day,” she raised her eyes to the clock, and glowed anew, “we are going by train to a sunny bay in Cornwall, to spend a second honeymoon. Edward’s writing engagement could be fulfilled better in the country than in town. He had lingered in London for Thorold’s sake, not his own. One month, two months to themselves, they must have, and then”—she straightened herself as in eager anticipation—“America! I must take him back, Evelyn! Back to his old home, and his old friends—to let them all see! Oh! all my life must be spent in making good the shame I have brought upon him, the misery and blame!”

I laid a restraining touch on her arm.

“Remember you are not to grieve! You have promised. That is forbidden ground!”

“Yes—yes, I know, but my heart, Evelyn! My heart will always remember.” She turned to me tenderly. “Darling girl! we talked about you—it is through you that this happiness has come. We cannot be parted. When we are settled in our new home we want you to come over, to pay us a long, long visit. You could see your sister, too. You would enjoy that?”

I felt a momentary rising of bitterness, a momentary impulse to say caustically that it would indeed be soothing for a lonely woman to visit two devoted married couples, but there was a wistful tone in her voice which showed that she understood. I made a big effort to laugh naturally, and made a vague promise. This was Charmion’s night. I should be a poor thing if I damped her joy!

“And about ‘Pastimes,’” she said slowly. “The agreement stands, of course. I pay half expenses for the next three years. Live in it, lend it, rent it as you think best. I should love best to think of you living there, until you come to us. You could find some friend—”

“Oh, yes! I have made enough friends at the ‘Mansions’ to keep me supplied with visitors for months to come. If I go back. But I’m not sure. This has come upon me with a rush, Charmion. I shall have to sit down, and think quietly. I shall see you again before you sail?”

“Of course.” She looked at me with reproach. “You are the dearest person in the world to me, Evelyn—except one. Do you suppose I could leave England without seeing you again? We’ll arrange a meeting somewhere, and have a week together. You and I, and Mr Thorold, and Edward.” She turned a sudden scrutinising glance upon me. “Evelyn, I have a haunting conviction that you are changed; that some man has come into your life. You aren’t by any possibility going to marry Wenham Thorold?”

“Indeed I am not. He hasn’t the faintest desire to marry me, or I to marry him. We are excellent friends, but nothing more. I honestly believe he regrets Miss Harding. You are growing too personal, my dear. I shall go to bed.”

She laughed, kissed me, but refused to move.

“I’m not tired. I don’t want to sleep. Sleep means forgetfulness,” she said. “It will rest me more to remember!”

I left her leaning forward, with hands clasped round her knees, gazing into the fire.

Charmion left the next morning, and I prepared, with the strangest reluctance, to turn back into Miss Harding, and return to the basement flat. For the last week I had been living in an atmosphere of romance, which had put me out of tune with ordinary life. Bridget showed her usual understanding. “’Deed, I always did say a wedding was the most upsetting thing in life!” she declared. “A funeral’s not in it for upsetting your nerves, and setting you on to grizzle, the same as a wedding. Not that Mrs Fane’s—Hallett, I suppose—was a wedding exactly, but it sort of churned you up more than if it was. To see her all a-smiling and a-flushing, and looking so young! Her as always held herself so cold. And now to have to go back to live underground, with you mumping about in a shawl!”

“Cheer up, Bridget dear,” I said soothingly. “It won’t be for long. I feel myself that I need a change. Perhaps we’ll go to Ireland. The Aunts are grumbling because I don’t go. Just a few weeks more, while I think things over and make my plans. Make the best of it, there’s a good soul!”

She looked at me, more in sorrow than in anger.

“I’ll make the best of it, with the best, when there’s a call to do it,” she said firmly; “but you’ll only be young once, my dear. You may throw away things now as you’ll pine to get back all the days of your life. When you’re thinking things over just remember that!” She stumped from the room, leaving me to digest her words.

The next week passed heavily. I saw little of Mr Thorold, and suspected that the revelation of Evelyn would work against further intimacy. It was impossible that he could feel the same freedom and ease; impossible that he should commandeer my help as he had done in days past. There was no blame attached to the position, it was natural and inevitable; but the loss of the easy, pleasant intercourse left a gap in my life.

Mrs Manners had gone with her children to visit her mother; Mrs Travers cut me in the hall. Poor Miss Harding was having a bad time! Nobody needed her; her absence had passed unnoticed; her return awoke no welcome. Bridget besought me to go out and amuse myself, but I obstinately refused to go, and stayed glued in the flat. Not for worlds would I have acknowledged it to a living creature, but—I was afraid that while I was out some one might call. Ralph Maplestone had said that business would bring him to town. Now that the Merrivales were in Switzerland, and that anxiety was off his hands, he could come when he liked. If he did not come it must be because he did not like!

The reflection did not help to raise my spirits, nor to pass the long-houred days; but it did give me an insight into my own heart. For the first time I was honest with myself, and acknowledged that I wanted him to come! I faced the possibility that I might wait in vain, and felt suddenly faint and weak. It had come to this, that I needed his strength, that I felt it impossible to face life without him by my side. I determined, if he did come, to show signs of weakness in my resolution; possibly to go so far as to arrange a meeting with my niece.

He came one afternoon when I was darning stockings by the dining-room table, and the disobedient orphan showed him straight in on the domestic scene. I hurriedly hitched round my chair and drew the casement curtains, making an excuse of “too much sun,” then folded the shawl round my shoulders, and sat at attention. He said he was pleased to see me. Was I quite well? The weather was very bright. Good news from Switzerland, wasn’t it? General Underwood was suffering from gout. What were Miss Wastneys’ plans for the summer?

“She—she doesn’t know herself!” I sighed vaguely. “Circumstances have—er—altered. Her friend Mrs Fane”—(I realised that Escott would have to hear some explanation of Charmion’s departure, but was loth to set tongues wagging)—“has decided to return to America. She has spent most of her life there, and has many ties.”

He looked supremely uninterested. Mrs Fane might go to Kamtschatka for all he cared!

“And will Miss Wastneys keep on the house alone?”

“Nothing is yet decided; but I think—not!”

He looked unperturbed. Showed none of the agitation I had hoped to see.

“Does she intend to join Mrs Fane in America?”

Now I felt hurt! Obviously, oh, quite obviously, he did not like me so much as he did! It was nothing to him where I lived—nothing to him where I went! A terrible feeling of loneliness overwhelmed me. Nobody cared! I pressed my lips together to prevent their trembling; behind my spectacles I blinked smarting eyes. A big brown hand stretched out and was laid over mine; a big soft voice asked tenderly:—

“Evelyn! How long is this tomfoolery to go on?”

We were standing facing one another across the table. I had darted behind its shelter in that first moment of shock and dismay. His face was lit with a mischievous smile; his hands were thrust into his trouser pockets; his eyes surveyed me with a horrible, twinkling triumph.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! You know!”

“Of course I know!”

“You have known all the time? From the very beginning?”

“Not just at first! I’ll give you credit for taking me in for a short time—a very short time! Then you gave yourself away.”

“How? How?”

“When you do a thing at all, you ought to do it thoroughly. Your disguise was incomplete.”

“Incomplete? But I had lessons. I paid to be taught.”

“Then your instructor, whoever he may be, omitted one important item. The moment I noticed it, the whole thing became plain. I knew I was talking to Evelyn Wastneys, and not to her aunt.”

I remembered the sudden flashes of complacency which had mystified me so completely. This was the explanation! I was devoured with curiosity.

“What was it? You must tell me!”

“Your hands!” He smiled, showing his strong, white teeth. “Your pretty hands, with the dimples, and the pink nails, and—the sapphire ring!”

“Ah!” I looked down at the big square stone in its setting of diamonds, and felt inclined to stamp with rage at my own forgetfulness. It was my mother’s engagement ring, and for years I had worn it every day. To my new friends, of course, it had no associations; but for this man who had noticed it on Evelyn’s finger, who had gazed with a lover’s admiration at Evelyn’s hand, the clue was unmistakable! So far as Ralph Maplestone was concerned, all my care, all my pains, had been rendered useless by that one stupid little omission!

I stood dumb and discomfited, and the Chippendale mirror on the opposite wall reflected a round-shouldered figure, a spectacled, disfigured face. I felt a sudden, overwhelming impatience with my disguise.

“For pity’s sake, Evelyn, run away and turn into yourself!” came the command from the big voice. (It is extraordinary how he follows my thoughts!) “I can’t make love to you in those things.”

“I don’t want you to make love to me!” I said—and lied!

“But I do, you see, and it’s my turn! I’ve waited long enough.”

He crossed the room, opened the door, and stood with the knob in his hand, waiting for me to pass through. I stiffened my back and stood still. I told myself that to give in—after that—meant that I agreed—practically gave my consent. I would not do it! I would not! I would stand all day rather than move an inch. Nothing should induce me.

He rattled the knob, and stared steadily in my face. I turned and—went!

“Evelyn Wastneys, will you take this man to be your wedded husband?”

I had come back again—in my blue dress!—and he met me on the threshold, where I verily believe he had been standing waiting, all the time I changed. He took both my hands in his, and asked the question so deeply and seriously that it brought the tears to my eyes.

“I think I—will!” I said shakily. “But you must not be too sudden with me, please, because I was so certain that I never would. You must give me time to get used to the idea.”

“You can really love me? You can really manage to care?”

“I can! The difficulty lately has been—the other way! When you didn’t come I was afraid. I had a horrible conviction that you’d changed your mind.”

He laughed, and drew me closer, wrapping me close in his strong arms. I lay still, and felt as if all my burdens were rolling away, and a big strong barrier hedged me in and protected me from the buffets and responsibilities of life. It was a blissful feeling—full of joy, full of rest. Now it seemed worth while having been a lonely woman. No sheltered, home-living girl could possibly have rejoiced as I rejoiced.

“You are mine! I’ll take care of you. No more rushing about, and living in disguise.”

“I don’t want to ramble. Never did! I want a home, and my own man. Do you remember when you said you would give me my own way—in reason?”

“And you objected that I would wish to come first? I do.”

“Bless your lonely heart! So do I. I’m afraid I shall spoil you, Ralph!”

“Oh, do!” he cried, and there was a hunger in his voice that sank deep in my heart. He needed me! How good it was to know that, to realise that in all the teeming millions in the world no woman could be to him that I was!

Later on—after a blissful interlude—I began to ask questions:—

“What will your mother say? Will she be surprised?”

“She’ll be delighted, for my sake, and her own! At the bottom of her heart she has always longed to be with her girl. And she’s prepared. She recognised the signs.”

“As Charmion did in me. Why? Do we show it in our faces?”

“Of course we do. Why not? Love’s a new sense, a new life. If one has any expression at all it must show. I’ve gone about feeling as if I were labelled ‘Evelyn Wastneys. By express route,’ for a year past! Now I’ve got you! You’re coming back to take care of me at the ‘Hall’!”

I rather liked the idea of myself as mistress of that old house! With my head on his shoulder I devoted several moments to the consideration of how I should arrange the drawing-room. It was amazing that I could not conjure up one pang of regret for dear “Pastimes!”

“There’s a lot to be done first,” I told him. “Two homes to break up. I shall have to find new tenants.”

“What about General Underwood for ‘Pastimes’?” he asked.

I raised my head and looked at him. He was manfully trying to smile.

“Wretch!” I exclaimed. “So you’ve got your way after all!”