Elster's Folly by Mrs. Henry Wood (most important books to read TXT) 📖

The Dowager-Countess Of Kirton Stood In The Sunny Breakfast-Room At

Hartledon,  Surveying The Well-Spread Table With Complacency; For It

Appeared To Be Rather More Elaborately Set Out Than Usual,  And No One

Loved Good Cheer Better Than She. When She Saw Two Cups And Saucers On

The Cloth Instead Of One,  It Occurred To Her That Maude Must,  By Caprice,

Be Coming Down,  Which She Had Not Done Of Late. The Dowager Had Arrived

At Midnight From Garchester,  In Consequence Of Having Missed The Earlier

Train,  And Found Nearly All The House In Retirement. She Was In A Furious

Humour,  And No One Had Told Her Of The Arrival Of Her Son-In-Law; No One

Ever Did Tell Her Any More Than They Were Obliged To Do; For She Was Not

Held In Estimation At Hartledon.

 

"Potted Tongue," She Exclaimed,  Dodging Round The Table,  And Lifting

Various Covers. "Raised Pie; I Wonder What's In It? And What's That Stuff

In Jelly? It Looks Delicious. This Is The Result Of The Blowing-Up I Gave

Hedges The Other Day; Nothing Like Finding Fault. Hot Dishes Too. I

Suppose Maude Gave Out That She Should Be Down This Morning. All Rubbish,

Fancying Herself Ill: She's As Well As I Am,  But Gives Way Like A

Sim--A-A-A-Ah!"

 

The Exclamation Was Caused By The Unexpected Vision Of Lord Hartledon.

 

"How Are You,  Lady Kirton?"

 

"Where On Earth Did You Spring From?"

 

"From My Room."

 

"What's The Good Of Your Appearing Before People Like A Ghost,  Hartledon?

When Did You Arrive?"

 

"Yesterday Afternoon."

 

"And Time You Did,  I Think,  With Your Poor Wife Fretting Herself To Death

About You. How Is She This Morning?"

 

"Very Well."

 

"Ugh!" You Must Imagine This Sound As Something Between A Grunt And A

Groan,  That The Estimable Lady Gave Vent To Whenever Put Out. It Is Not

Capable Of Being Written. "You Might Have Sent Word You Were Coming. I

Should Think You Frightened Your Wife To Death."

 

"Not Quite."

 

He Walked Across The Room And Rang The Bell. Hedges Appeared. It Had

Been The Dowager's Pleasure That No One Else Should Serve Her At That

Meal--Perhaps On Account Of Her Peculiarities Of Costume.

 

"Will You Be Good Enough To Pour Out The Coffee In Maude's Place To-Day,

Lady Kirton? She Has Promised To Be Down Another Morning."

 

It Was Making Her So Entirely And Intentionally A Guest,  As She Thought,

That Lady Kirton Did Not Like It. Not Only Did She Fully Intend Hartledon

House To Be Her Home,  But She Meant To Be Its One Ruling Power. Keep

Maude Just Now To Her Invalid Fancies,  And Later To Her Gay Life,  And

There Would Be Little Fear Of Her Asserting Very Much Authority.

 

"Are You In The Habit Of Serving This Sort Of Breakfast,  Hedges?" Asked

Lord Hartledon; For The Board Looked Almost Like An Elaborate Dinner.

 

"We Have Made Some Difference,  My Lord,  This Morning."

 

"For Me,  I Suppose. You Need Not Do So In Future. I Have Got Out Of The

Habit Of Taking Breakfast; And In Any Case I Don't Want This Unnecessary

Display. Captain Kirton Gets Up Later,  I Presume."

 

"He's Hardly Ever Up Before Eleven," Said Hedges. "But He Makes A Good

Breakfast,  My Lord."

 

"That's Right. Tempt Him With Any Delicacy You Can Devise. He Wants

Strength."

 

The Dowager Was Fuming. "Don't You Think I'm Capable Of Regulating These

Things,  Hartledon,  I'd Beg Leave To Ask?"

 

"No Doubt. I Beg You Will Make Yourself At Home Whilst You Stay With Us.

Some Tea,  Hedges."

 

She Could Have Thrown The Coffee-Pot At Him. There Was Incipient Defiance

In His Every Movement; Latent War In His Tones. He Was No Longer The

Puppet He Had Been; That Day Had Gone By For Ever.

 

Perhaps Val Could Not Himself Have Explained The Feeling That Was This

Morning At Work Within Him. It Was The First Time He And The Dowager Had

Met Since The Marriage,  And She Brought Before Him All Too Prominently

The Ill-Omened Past: Her Unjustifiable Scheming--His Own Miserable

Weakness. If Ever Lord Hartledon Felt Shame And Repentance For His Weak

Yielding,  He Felt It Now--Felt It In All Its Bitterness; And Something

Very Like Rage Against The Dowager Was Bubbling Up In His Spirit,  Which

He Had Some Trouble To Suppress.

 

He Did Suppress It,  However,  Though It Rendered Him Less Courteous Than

Usual; And The Meal Proceeded Partly In Silence; An Interchanged Word,

Civil On The Surface,  Passing Now And Then. The Dowager Thoroughly

Entered Into Her Breakfast,  And Had Little Leisure For Anything Else.

 

"What Makes You Take Nothing?" She Asked,  Perceiving At Length That He

Had Only A Piece Of Toast On His Plate,  And Was Playing With That.

 

"I Have No Appetite."

 

"Have You Left Off Taking Breakfast?"

 

"To A Great Extent."

 

"What's The Matter With You?"

 

Lord Hartledon Slightly Raised His Eyebrows. "One Can't Eat Much In The

Heat Of Summer."

 

"Heat Of Summer! It's Nothing More Than Autumn Now. And You Are As Thin

As A Weasel. Try Some Of That Excellent Raised Pie."

 

"Pray Let My Appetite Alone,  Lady Kirton. If I Wanted Anything I Should

Take It."

 

"Let You Alone! Yes,  Of Course! You Don't Want It Noticed That You Are

Out Of Sorts," Snapped The Dowager. "Oh,  _I_ Know The Signs. You've Been

Raking About London--That's What You've Been At."

 

The "Raking About London" Presented So Complete A Contrast To The Lonely

Life He Had Really Passed,  That Hartledon Smiled In Very Bitterness. And

The Smile Incensed The Dowager,  For She Misunderstood It.

 

"It's Early Days To Begin! I Don't Think You Ought To Have Married

Maude."

 

"I Don't Think I Ought."

 

She Did Not Expect The Rejoinder,  And Dropped Her Knife And Fork. "Why

_Did_ You Marry Her?"

 

"Perhaps You Can Tell That Better Than I."

 

The Countess-Dowager Pushed Up Her Hair.

 

"Are You Going To Throw Off The Mask Outright,  And Become A Bad Husband

As Well As A Neglectful One?"

 

Val Rose From His Seat And Went To The Window,  Which Opened To The

Ground. He Did Not Wish To Quarrel With Her If He Could Help It. Lady

Kirton Raised Her Voice.

 

"Staying Away,  As You Have,  In London,  And Leaving Maude Here To Pine

Alone."

 

"Business Kept Me In London."

 

"I Dare Say It Did!" Cried The Wrathful Dowager. "If Maude Died Of Ennui,

You Wouldn't Care. She Can't Go About Much Herself Just Now,  Poor Thing!

I Do Wish Edward Had Lived."

 

"I Wish He Had,  With All My Heart!" Came The Answer; And The Tone Struck

Surprise On The Dowager's Ear--It Was So Full Of Pain. "Maude's Coming To

Hartledon Without Me Was Her Own Doing," He Remarked. "I Wished Her Not

To Come."

 

"I Dare Say You Did,  As Her Heart Was Set Upon It. The Fact Of Her

Wishing To Do A Thing Would Be The Signal For Your Opposing It; I've

Gathered That Much. My Advice To Maude Is,  To Assert Her Own Will,

Irrespective Of Yours."

 

"Don't You Think,  Lady Kirton,  That It May Be As Well If You Let Me And

My Wife Alone? We Shall Get Along,  No Doubt,  Without Interference; _With_

Interference We Might Not Do So."

 

What With One Thing And Another,  The Dowager's Temper Was Inflammable

That Morning; And When It Reached That Undesirable State She Was Apt To

Say Pretty Free Things,  Even For Her.

 

"Edward Would Have Made Her The Better Husband."

 

"But She Didn't Like Him,  You Know!" He Returned,  His Eyes Flashing With

The Remembrance Of An Old Thought; And The Countess-Dowager Took The

Sentence Literally,  And Not Ironically.

 

"Not Like Him. If You Had Had Any Eyes As Val Elster,  You'd Have Seen

Whether She Liked Him Or Not. She Was Dying For Him--Not For You."

 

He Made No Reply. It Was Only What He Had Suspected,  In A Half-Doubting

Sort Of Way,  At The Time. A Little Spaniel,  Belonging To One Of The

Gardeners,  Ran Up And Licked His Hand.

 

"The Time That I Had Of It!" Continued The Dowager. "But For Me,  Maude

Never Would Have Been Forced Into Having You. And She _Shouldn't_ Have

Had You If I'd Thought You Were Going To Turn Out Like This."

 

He Wheeled Round And Faced Her; His Pale Face Working With Emotion,  But

His Voice Subdued To Calmness. Lady Kirton's Last Words Halted,  For His

Look Startled Even Her In Its Resolute Sternness.

 

"To What End Are You Saying This,  Madam? You Know Perfectly Well That

You Almost Moved Heaven And Earth To Get Me: _You_,  I Say; I Prefer To

Leave My Wife's Name Out Of This: And I Fell Into The Snare. I Have Not

Complained Of My Bargain; So Far As I Know,  Maude Has Not Done So: But

If It Be Otherwise--If She And You Repent Of The Union,  I Am Willing To

Dissolve It,  As Far As It Can Be Dissolved,  And To Institute Measures For

Living Apart."

 

Never,  Never Had She Suspected It Would Come To This. She Sat Staring At

Him,  Her Eyes Round,  Her Mouth Open: Scarcely Believing The Calm Resolute

Man Before Her Could Be The Once Vacillating Val Elster.

 

"Listen Whilst I Speak A Word Of Truth," He Said,  His Eyes Bent On Her

With A Strange Fire That,  If It Told Of Undisguised Earnestness,  Told

Also Of Inward Fever. "I Married Your Daughter,  And I Am Ready And

Willing To Do My Duty By Her In All Honour,  As I Have Done It Since The

Day Of The Marriage. Whatever My Follies May Have Been As A Young Man,  I

Am At Least Incapable Of Wronging My Wife As A Married One. _She_ Has

Had No Cause To Complain Of Want Of Affection,  But--"

 

"Oh,  What A Hypocrite!" Interrupted The Dowager,  With A Shriek. "And All

The Time You've Left Her Here Neglected,  While You Were Taking Your

Amusement In London! You've Been Dinner-Giving And Richmond-Going,  And

Theatre-Frequenting,  And Card-Playing,  And Race-Horsing--And I Shouldn't

Wonder But You've Been Cock-Fighting,  And A Hundred Other Things As

Disreputable,  And Have Come Down Here Worn To A Skeleton!"

 

"But If She Is Discontented,  If She Does Not Care For Me,  As You Would

Seem To Intimate," He Resumed,  Passing Over The Attack Without Notice;

"In Short,  If Maude Would Be Happier Without Me,  I Am Quite Willing,

As I Have Just Said,  To Relieve Her Of Her Distasteful Husband."

 

"Of All The Wicked Plotters,  You Must Be The Worst! My Darling

Unoffending Maude! A Divorce For Her!"

 

"We Are Neither Of Us Eligible For A Divorce," He Coolly Rejoined. "A

Separation Alone Is Open To Us,  And That An Amicable One. Should It Come

To It,  Every Possible Provision Can Be Made For Your Daughter's Comfort;

She Shall Retain This Home; She Shall Have,  If She Wishes,  A Town-House;

I Will Deny Her Nothing."

 

Lady Kirton Rubbed Her Face Carefully With Her Handkerchief. Not Until

This Moment Had She Believed Him To Be In Earnest,  And The Conviction

Frightened Her.

 

"Why Do You Wish To Separate From Her?" She Asked,  In A Subdued Tone.

 

"I Do Not Wish It. I Said I Was Willing To Do So If She Wished It. You

Have Been Taking Pains To Convince Me That Maude's Love Was Not Mine,

That She Was Only Forced Into The Marriage With Me. Should This Have Been

The Case,  I Must Be Distasteful To Her Still; An Encumbrance She May Wish

To Get Rid Of."

 

The Countess-Dowager Had Overshot Her Mark,  And Saw It.

 

"Oh Well! Perhaps I Was Mistaken About The Past," She Said,  Staring At

Him Very Hard,  And In A Sort Of Defiance. "Maude Was Always Very Close.

If You Said Anything About Separation Now,  I Dare Say It Would Kill Her.

My Belief Is,  She Does Care For You,  And A Great Deal More Than You

Deserve."

 

"It May Be Better To Ascertain The Truth From Maude--"

 

"You Won't Say A Syllable To Her!" Cried The Dowager,  Starting Up

In Terror. "She'd Never Forgive Me; She'd Turn Me Out Of The House.

Hartledon,  _Promise_ You Won't Say A Word To Her."

 

He Stood Back Against The Window,  Never Speaking.

 

"She Does Love You; But I Thought I'd Frighten You,  For You Had No Right

To Send Maude Home Alone; And It Made Me Very Cross,  Because I Saw How

She Felt It. Separation Indeed! What Can You Be Thinking Of?"

 

He Was Thinking Of A Great Deal,  No Doubt; And His Thoughts Were As

Bitter As They Could Well Be. He Did Not Wish To Separate; Come What

Might,  He Felt His Place Should Be By His Wife's Side As Long As

Circumstances Permitted It.

 

"Let Me Give You A Word Of Warning,  Lady Kirton. I And My Wife Will Be

Happy Enough Together,  I Daresay,  If We Are Allowed To Be; But The Style

Of Conversation You Have Just Adopted To Me Will Not Conduce To It; It

Might Retaliate On Maude,  You See. Do