"There's only one person," cried Patty suddenly, "who's never been in love with Athena! And it's so odd, because he's always with her--I mean d.i.c.k Wantele."

"My dear child, how you let your tongue run on," said her mother reprovingly. "You seem to forget that Athena is a married woman!" In another, a more natural, tone she added: "And then d.i.c.k Wantele, as you know perfectly well, has always been attached to----"

Her husband gave her a violent shove and she did not finish her sentence. They had all forgotten the large, silent, alien presence of Hew Lingard.

CHAPTER VII

"Who ever rigged fair ships to lie in harbours?"

d.i.c.k Wantele was driving back to Rede Place from Selford Junction. He had been away for four days, and now he was very glad to be home again.

He very seldom left Rede Place unless Jane Oglander was there,--in fact, this was the first time he had gone away leaving Richard Maule and Athena alone together since they had returned, eight years before, from what had proved so disastrous a winter in Italy.

Wantele had grown accustomed to his servitude, but there came moments when the strain of the life he was leading became intolerable, and then, suddenly, he would go away for a few days, sometimes to an old friend, sometimes alone.

This time both Richard and Athena had pressed him to keep an engagement he had made some weeks before. He had known Richard's motive--Jane was to arrive during his absence, and Richard had wished him to be spared certain difficult moments--those of bidding Jane welcome, of wishing Jane joy.

As to Athena's motive in wishing him away, he had been less clear. None the less had he been sure that she had a motive.

And so he had gone, this time to an old college friend, and he had enjoyed the desultory talking, the indifferent shooting, and the lazy reading, he had managed to cram into his short holiday. He had now come back, as he always did, after a thorough change of scene and of atmosphere, feeling, if not a new man, then patched in places, and once more facing life in his usual philosophical, slightly satirical, spirit.

Now their old coachman was telling him all sorts of bits of news that amused him; for a great deal can happen, in fact a great deal always does happen, during four days, in a country neighbourhood.

The most exciting bit of news was that of an accident to the Paches' new motor. The coachman told the tale with natural relish.

"The hind wheel just sank down in that deep rut by that there Windy Common corner--you know, sir. The machine went over as gentle as a babby! But they had a rare job getting the queer thing righted again, so I'm told, sir."

"I hope no one was hurt, Jupp?"

"Miss Patty--she as caused all the mischief--escaped scot free. But Squire Pache, so they say, was shook something dreadful! And as for Mrs.

Pache, why, her arm was quite twisted. There's some people as says she'll never get it right again."

"Oh, but that's a dreadful thing!" exclaimed Wantele, rousing himself.

He felt suddenly ashamed of his long and deep-seated dislike of Mrs.

Pache and of poor Patty. He and Jane Oglander might drive over there this afternoon to enquire how they all were.

Then the young man's fair, lined face became overcast. He reminded himself bitterly that Jane's time and thoughts now belonged to someone else. Lingard would naturally spend every moment he could escape from the afflicted Paches at Rede Place; and when he, her lover, was not there, Jane would be closeted with Athena, or occupied in amusing Richard.

"They do say, sir, that Mrs. Pache is so bad that she says she'll never ride in that dratted motor-car again."

"That's bad, Jupp, very bad! I'll go over and enquire to-morrow morning----By the way, when did the accident happen?"

"The very day after you left, sir."

They were now within the boundaries of Rede Place. The rather fantastic foreign-looking house lay before them, its whiteness softened by the ruddy autumn tints of the trees.

Wantele, for the first time in his life, felt a sudden dislike of the place and of its artificial beauty sweep over him. His existence there had only been rendered tolerable, kept warmly human, by the coming and going of Jane Oglander.

No doubt she would now be in the hall, waiting for him alone--she always did instinctively the kind, the tactful thing. But for the moment he had no wish to see her. There ran a tremor through him, and the young horse he was driving swerved violently. He flicked the horse sharply on the under side. How--how stupid, how absurd of him to feel like this!

While he had been away he had tried to forget Jane, but whenever he was alone, and during the long wakeful hours of each night, his thoughts had enwrapped her more closely than ever. It seemed so strange that she would no longer be free to console him, to chide him, to laugh at and with him.

From to-day everything in their relationship would be changed. Even now, Jane was probably with her lover. Wantele averted his thoughts quickly from the vision his morbid imagination forced upon him. Lingard looked the man to be a masterful, a happy wooer.

In two or three days the famous soldier would be an inmate of Rede Place--his visit had been arranged just before Wantele had gone away.

Richard Maule had himself suggested it. In fact, as Athena had observed on the day following their first acquaintance with Lingard, it seemed absurd that such a man should be staying with the Paches....

They were now close to the house, and the thought of an immediate meeting with Jane became suddenly intolerable to Wantele.

"I'll get out here," he said hurriedly, throwing the reins to Jupp. "You can take my bag round while I walk up through the arboretum and let myself in by the Garden Room."

In '51, when crystal houses, as they were called for a brief span, became a fashion, Theophilus Joy had built a large conservatory on to one end of his country house. Ugly though it was, the Garden Room, as it soon became called, had greatly added to the amenities of Rede Place.

Fragrant and cool in summer, warm and scented in winter, it was considered a delightful novelty by the old banker's guests.

Those had been the days when the boy Richard, moving among the amusing and amused worldlings who formed his grandfather's large circle of acquaintances, had not known that there were such things as disease, tragedy, and pa.s.sion in the world. Let us eat and be merry--so much of his grandfather's philosophy young Richard had imbibed, and no more.

The Garden Room was still a delightful place, with its marble fountain brought forty years before from Naples, its flowering creepers, and the rare plants which still made it the pride of the head-gardener of Rede Place.

Yet it was but little used. Now and again on a rainy day Richard Maule would drag his feeble limbs along the warm moist stone pavement for the little gentle exercise recommended by his old friend and neighbour, Dr.

Mannet. But he never did this when his wife was at Rede Place, for Athena's boudoir, the sitting-room which she had herself chosen and arranged to her fancy soon after her first coming to England, was the end room on the ground floor of the house, and so next to the Garden Room.

Some years before, when a neighbouring country house had been burgled, new locks had been fitted to the various doors giving access to the gardens and the park, and now the door of the Garden Room was always kept locked. There were three keys--Wantele and Athena each had one, and the head-gardener kept the third.

As Wantele pa.s.sed through into the house, he heard the murmur of voices in the boudoir; Athena's clear voice dominated by a man's deep, vibrating tones.

Yes, instinct born of jealous pain had served him truly--Lingard was now at Rede Place. They were there--Jane and Lingard--behind that door....

He hurried the quicker to escape from the sound of voices. The broad corridor which had been a concession to English taste was very airless, for in deference to Richard Maule's state of health the house was always over-heated. Athena, too, had a dread, a hatred of cold; in all essentials she was a southerner.

d.i.c.k Wantele loved wild weather and chill winter. He hated the languor and heat in which he was condemned to spend so much of each day.

At last, when in the hall, Wantele stayed his steps.

During his brief absences from home letters were not sent on to him, for he was always glad to escape for a few days from his usual correspondence, letters connected with his cousin's affairs and with the estate, important to the senders if not to the recipient. But there was always a moment of reckoning when he came back, and now he knew that there must be many little matters waiting to be dealt with. He might as well find out what there was before going on to see Richard in the Greek Room.

Then, while walking across to the marble table where his letters were always placed, the young man was astonished to see on the floor a large half-filled postman's sack. The label on it bore General Lingard's name; the Paches' address had been crossed out, and that of Rede Place subst.i.tuted.

Really, it was rather cool of Lingard to have his correspondence sent on in this fashion! It was also a proof that he must be spending the major part of each day at Rede Place. Heavens! what a correspondence the man must have. That was a privilege of fame he could well spare his successful rival.

He turned to his own letters. There were many more than usual. And then, as he tore the envelopes rapidly open, it seemed to him that most of his acquaintances within a certain radius had written to him during the four days he had been away!

Each letter he opened--and this both diverted and angered Wantele--ran on the same theme and contained the same request.

"Dear Mr. Wantele--I am writing to you because Mrs. Maule may be away.

We hear that General Lingard is staying with you for a few days. It would give us such pleasure if you would bring him over, either to lunch or dinner, whichever suits you best. It will be an honour as well as a pleasure to make General Lingard's acquaintance. If you will send me a line by return, we could manage to make any day convenient that would suit you and General Lingard."