Greatheart - Ethel May Dell (the lemonade war series TXT) 📗

a little sigh. "But I would love it. I would love it."
He was laughing still. "Why can't it be done? Who's going to prevent it?"
Dinah had become serious. "Dad hasn't money enough for one thing. And then there's Mother. She wouldn't do it."
"Ho! Wouldn't she? I've a notion she'd enjoy it even more than you would. If you want a smart wedding you'd better have it in town. Then the de Vignes and everyone else can come."
"Oh no! I want it to be here." Dinah's eyes began to shine. "Dad knows lots of people round about--County people too. Those are the sort of people I'd like to come. Even Mother might like that," she added reflectively.
"You prefer a big splash in your own little pond to a small one in a good-sized lake, is that it?" questioned Eustace. "Well, have it your own way, my child! But I shouldn't make many clothes if I were you. We will shop in Paris after we are married, and then you can get whatever you fancy."
Dinah's eyes fairly danced at the thought. "I shall love that. I'll tell Daddy, shall I, to keep all his money for the wedding, and then we can buy the clothes afterwards; that is, if you can afford it," she added quickly. "I ought not to let you really."
"You can't prevent me doing anything," he returned, his hand pressing her shoulder. "No one can."
She leaned her head momentarily against his arm. "You--you wouldn't want to do anything that anyone didn't like," she murmured shyly.
"Shouldn't I?" he said and for a moment his mouth was grim. "I am not accustomed to being regarded as an amiable nonentity, I assure you. It's settled then, is it? The first week in April? And you are to come to us for at least a fortnight beforehand."
Dinah nodded, her head bent. "All right,--if Mother doesn't mind."
"What would happen if she did?" he asked curiously.
"It just wouldn't be done," she made answer.
"Wouldn't it? Not if you insisted?"
"I couldn't insist," she said, her voice very low.
"Why couldn't you? I should have thought you had a will of your own. Don't you ever assert yourself?"
"Against her? No, never!" Dinah gave a little shudder. "Don't let's talk of it!" she said. "Isn't it time to go back? I believe I ought to be clearing away."
He detained her for a moment. "You're not going to work like a nigger when you are married to me," he said.
She smiled up at him, a merry, dimpling smile. "Oh no, I shall just enjoy myself then--like Rose de Vigne. I shall be much too grand to work. There! I really must go back. Thank you again ever so much--ever so much--for the lovely ring. I hope you'll never find out how unworthy I am of it."
She drew his head down with quivering courage and bestowed a butterfly kiss upon his cheek. And then in a second she was gone from his hold, gone like a woodland elf with a tinkle of laughter and the skipping of fairy feet.
Sir Eustace followed her flight with his eyes only, but in those eyes was the leaping fire of a passion that burned around her in an ever-narrowing circle. She knew that it was there, but she would not look back to see it. For deep in her heart she feared that flame as she feared nothing else on earth.


CHAPTER III
DESPAIR

"If I had known that this was going to happen, I would never have troubled to cultivate their acquaintance," said Lady Grace fretfully. "I knew of course that that artful little minx was running after the man, but that he could ever be foolish enough to let himself be caught in such an obvious trap was a possibility that I never seriously contemplated."
"It doesn't matter to me," said Rose.
She had said it many times before with the same rather forced smile. It was not a subject that she greatly cared to discuss. The news of Dinah's conquest had come like a thunderbolt. In common with her mother, she had never seriously thought that Sir Eustace could be so foolish. But since the utterly unexpected had come to pass, it seemed to her futile to talk about it. Dinah had secured the finest prize within reach for the moment, and there was no disputing the fact.
"The wedding is to take place so soon too," lamented Lady Grace. "That, I have no doubt, is the doing of that scheming mother of hers. What shall we do about going to it, Rose? Do you want to go, dear?"
"Not in the least, but I am going all the same." Rose was still smiling, and her eyes were fixed. "I think, you know, Mother," she said, "that we might do worse than ask Sir Eustace and his party to stay here for the event."
"My dear Rose!" Lady Grace gazed at her in amazement.
Rose continued to stare into space. "It would be much more convenient for them," she said. "And really we have no reason for allowing people to imagine that we are other than pleased over the arrangement. We shall not be going to town before Easter, so it seems to me that it would be only neighbourly to invite Sir Eustace to stay at the Court for the wedding. Great Mallowes is not a particularly nice place to put up in, and this would be far handier for him."
Lady Grace slowly veiled her astonishment. "Of course, dear; if you think so, it might be managed. We will talk to your father about it, and if he approves I will write to Sir Eustace--or get him to do so. I do not myself consider that Sir Eustace has behaved at all nicely. He was most cavalier about the Hunt Ball. But if you wish to overlook it--well, I shall not put any difficulty in the way."
"I think it would be a good thing to do," said Rose somewhat enigmatically.
The letter that reached Sir Eustace two days later was penned by the Colonel's hand, and contained a brief but cordial invitation to him and his following to stay at Perrythorpe Court for the wedding.
He read it with a careless smile and tossed it over to Scott. "Here is magnanimity," he commented. "Shall we accept the coals of fire?"
Scott read with all gravity and laid it down. "If you want my opinion, I should say 'No,'" he said.
"Why would you say No?" There was a lazy challenge in the question, a provocative gleam in Sir Eustace's blue eyes.
Scott smiled a little. "For one thing I shouldn't enjoy the coals of fire. For another, I shouldn't care to be at too close quarters with the beautiful Miss de Vigne again, if I had your very highly susceptible temperament. And for a third, I believe Isabel would prefer to stay at Great Mallowes."
"You're mighty clever, my son, aren't you?" said Eustace with a supercilious twist of the lips. "But--as it chances--not one of those excellent reasons appeals to me."
"Very well then," said Scott, with the utmost patience. "It is up to you to accept."
"Why should Isabel prefer Great Mallowes?" demanded Sir Eustace. "She knows the de Vignes. It is far better for her to see people, and there is more comfort in a private house than in a hotel."
"Quite so," said Scott. "I am sure she will fall in with your wishes in this respect, whatever they are. Will you write to Colonel de Vigne, or shall I?"
"You can--and accept," returned Sir Eustace imperially.
Scott took a sheet of paper without further words.
His brother leaned back in his chair, his black brows slightly drawn, and contemplated him as he did it.
"By the way, Scott," he said, after a moment, "Dinah's staying here need not make any difference to you in any way. She can't expect to have you at her beck and call as she had in Switzerland. You must make that clear to her."
"Very well, old chap." Scott spoke without raising his head. "You're going to meet her at the station, I suppose?"
"Almost immediately, yes." Eustace got up with a movement of suppressed impatience. "We shall have tea in Isabel's room. You needn't turn up. I'll tell them to send yours in here."
"Oh, don't trouble! I'm going to turn up," very calmly Scott made rejoinder. He had already begun to write; his hand moved steadily across the sheet.
Sir Eustace's frown deepened. "You won't catch the post with those letters if you do."
Scott looked up at last, and his eyes were as steady as his hand had been. "That's my business, old chap," he said quietly. "Don't you worry yourself about that!"
There was a hint of ferocity about Sir Eustace as he met that steadfast look. He stood motionless for a moment or two, then flung round on his heel. Scott returned to his work with the composure characteristic of him, and almost immediately the banging of the door told of his brother's departure.
Then for a second his hand paused; he passed the other across his eyes with the old gesture of weariness, and a short, hard sigh came from him ere he bent again to his task.
Sir Eustace strode across the hall with the frown still drawing his brows. An open car was waiting at the door, but ere he went to it he turned aside and knocked peremptorily at another door.
He opened without waiting for a reply and entered a long, low-ceiled room through which the rays of the afternoon sun were pouring. Isabel, lying on a couch between fire and window, turned her head towards him.
"Haven't you started yet? Surely it is getting very late," she said in her low, rather monotonous voice.
He came to her. "I prefer starting a bit late," he said. "You will have tea ready when we return?"
"Certainly," she said.
He stood looking down at her intently. "Are you all right today?" he asked abruptly.
A faint colour rose in her cheeks. "I am--as usual," she said.
"What does that mean?" Curtly he put the question. "Why don't you go out more? Why don't you get old Lister to make you up a tonic?"
She smiled a little, but there was slight uneasiness behind her smile. Her eyes had the remote look of one who watches the far horizon. "My dear Eustace," she said, "_cui bono_?"
He stooped suddenly over her. "It is because you won't make the effort," he said, speaking with grim emphasis. "You're letting yourself go again, I know; I've been watching you for the past week. And by heaven, Isabel, you shan't do it! Scott may be fool enough to let you, but I'm not. You've only been home a week, and you've been steadily losing ground ever since you got back. What is it? What's the matter with you? Tell me what is the matter!"
So insistent was his tone, so almost menacing his attitude, that Isabel shrank from him with a gesture too swift to repress. The old pathetic furtive look was in her eyes as she made reply.
"I am very sorry. I don't see how I can help it. I--I am getting old, you know. That is the chief reason."
"You're talking nonsense, my dear girl." Impatiently Eustace broke in. "You are just coming into your prime. I won't have you ruin your life like this. Do you hear me? I won't. If you don't rouse yourself I will find a means to rouse you. You are simply drifting now--simply drifting."
"But into my desired haven," whispered Isabel, with a piteous quiver of the lips.
He straightened himself with a gesture of exasperation. "You are wasting yourself over a myth, an