The Bars of Iron - Ethel May Dell (top novels .txt) 📗

we go?"
He gave her a quick, keen look, as if he suspected her of trying to elude him; but he let her go without a word.
They descended to lunch, and later went forth into the blazing sunshine where the car awaited them. Avery sank back into the corner and closed her eyes. Her head was aching violently. The sense of reluctance that had possessed her for so long amounted almost to a premonition of evil.
"Avery!" Her husband's voice, curt, imperious, with just a tinge of anxiety broke in upon her. "Are you feeling faint or anything?"
She looked at him. He was watching her with a frown between his eyes.
"No, I am not faint," she said. "The heat makes my head ache, that's all."
"You ought to see a doctor," he said restlessly. "But not that ass, Tudor. We'll go up to town to-morrow. Avery," his voice softened suddenly, "I'm sorry I dragged you here if you didn't want to come."
She put out her hand to him instantly. It was the old Piers who had spoken, Piers the boy-lover who had won her heart so irresistibly, so completely.
He held the hand tightly, and she thought his face quivered a little as he said: "I don't mean to be a tyrant, dear. But somehow--somehow, you know--I can't always help it. A man with a raging thirst will take--anything he can get."
His eyes were still upon her, and her heart quickened to compassion at their look. They seemed to cry to her for mercy out of a depth of suffering that she could not bear to contemplate.
She leaned swiftly towards him. "Piers,--my dear--what is it? What is it?" she said, under her breath.
But in that instant the look vanished. The old fierce flare of passion blazed forth upon her, held her burningly, till finally she drew back before it in mute protest. "So you will forgive me," he said, in a tone that seemed to contain something of a jeering quality. "We are all human, what? You're looking better now. Egad, Avery, you're splendid!"
Her heart died within her. She turned her face away, as one ashamed.
The church at Wardenhurst was thronged with a chattering crowd of guests. Piers and Avery arrived late, so late that they had some difficulty in finding seats. Tudor, who was present and looking grimly disgusted with himself, spied them at length, and gave up his place to Avery.
The bride entered almost immediately afterwards, young, lovely, with the air of a queen passing through her subjects. Dick Guyes at the altar was shaking with nervousness, but Ina was supremely self-possessed. She even sent a smile of casual greeting to Piers as she went.
She maintained her attitude of complete _sang-froid_ throughout the service, and Piers watched her critically with that secret smile at the corners of his lips which was not good to see.
He did not seem aware of anyone else in the church till the service was over, and the strains of the Wedding March were crashing through the building. Then very suddenly he turned and looked at his wife--with that in his dark eyes that thrilled her to the soul.
A man's voice accosted him somewhat abruptly. "Are you Sir Piers Evesham? I'm the best man. They want you to sign the register."
Piers started as one rudely awakened from an entrancing dream. An impatient exclamation rose to his lips which he suppressed rather badly. He surveyed the man who addressed him with a touch of hauteur.
Avery surveyed him also, and as not very favourably impressed. He was a small man with thick sandy eyebrows and shifty uncertain eyes. He looked hard at Piers in answer to the latter's haughty regard, and Avery became aware of a sudden sharp change in his demeanour as he did so. He opened his eyes and stared in blank astonishment.
"Hullo!" he ejaculated softly. "You!"
"What do you mean?" demanded Piers.
It was a challenge, albeit spoken in an undertone. He stood like a man transfixed as he uttered it. There came to Avery a quick hot impulse to intervene, to protect him from some hidden danger, she knew not what, that had risen like a serpent in his path. But before she could take any action, the critical moment was passed. Piers had recovered himself.
He stepped forward. "All right. I will come," he said.
She watched him move away in the direction of the vestry with that free, proud gait of his, and a great coldness came down upon her, wrapping her round, penetrating to her very soul. Who was that man with the shifty eyes? Why had he stared at Piers so? Above all, why had Piers stood with that stiff immobility of shock as though he had been stabbed in the back?
A voice spoke close to her. "Lady Evesham, come and wait by the door! There is more air there."
She turned her head mechanically, and looked at Lennox Tudor with eyes that saw not. There was a singing in her ears that made the crashing chords of the organ sound confused and jumbled.
His hand closed firmly, sustainingly, upon her elbow.
"Come with me!" he said.
She went with him blindly, unconscious of the curious eyes that watched her go.
He led her quietly down the church and into the porch. The air from outside, albeit hot and sultry, was less oppressive than within. She drew great breaths of relief as it reached her. The icy grip at her heart seemed to relax.
Tudor watched her narrowly. "What madness brought you here?" he said presently, as she turned at last and mustered a smile of thanks.
She countered the question. "I might ask you the same," she said.
His eyes contracted behind the shielding glasses. "So you might," he said briefly. "Well,--I came on the chance of meeting you."
"Of meeting me!" She looked at him in surprise.
He nodded. "Just so. I want a word with you; but it can't be said here. Give me an opportunity later if you can!"
His hand fell away from her elbow, he drew back. The bridal procession was coming down the church.
Ina was flushed and laughing. Dick Guyes still obviously nervous, but, also obviously, supremely happy. They went by Avery into a perfect storm of rose-leaves that awaited them from the crowd outside. Yet for one moment the eyes of the bride rested upon Avery, meeting hers almost as if they would ask her a question. And behind her--immediately behind her--came Piers.
His eyes also found Avery, and in an instant with a haughty disregard of Tudor, he had swept her forward with him, his arm thrust imperially through hers. They also weathered the storm of rose-leaves, and as they went Avery heard him laugh,--the laugh of the man who fights with his back to the wall.
They were among the first to offer congratulations to the bride and bridegroom, and again Avery was aware of the girl's eyes searching hers.
"I haven't forgotten you," she said, as they shook hands. "I knew you would be Lady Evesham sooner or later after that day when you kept the whole Hunt at bay."
Avery felt herself flush. There seemed to her to be a covert insinuation in the remark. "I was very grateful to you for taking my part," she said.
"It was rather generous certainly," agreed the bride coolly. "Dick, do get off my train! You're horribly clumsy to-day."
The bridegroom hastened to remove himself to a respectful distance, while Ina turned her pretty cheek to Piers. "You may salute the bride," she said graciously. "It's the only opportunity you will ever have."
Piers kissed the cheek as airily as it was proffered, his dark eyes openly mocking. "Good luck to you, Ina!" he said lightly. "I wish you the first and best of all that's most worth having."
Her red lips curled in answer. "You are superlatively kind," she said.
Other guests came crowding round with congratulations, and they moved on.
Piers knew everyone there, and presented one after another to his wife till she felt absolutely bewildered. He did not present the best man, who to her relief seemed disposed to keep out of their way. She wondered greatly if anything had passed between him and Piers, though by the latter at least the incident seemed to be wholly forgotten. He was in his gayest, most sparkling mood, and she could not fail to see that he was very popular whichever way he turned. People kept claiming his attention, and though he tried to remain near her he was drawn away at last by the bridegroom himself.
Avery looked round her then for a quiet corner where Tudor might find her if he so desired, but while she was searching she came upon Tudor himself.
He joined her immediately, with evident relief. "For Heaven's sake, let us get away from this gibbering crowd!" he said. "They are like a horde of painted monkeys. Come alone to the library! I don't think there are many people there."
Avery accompanied him, equally thankful to escape. They found the library deserted, and Tudor made her sit down by the window in the most comfortable chair the room contained.
"You look about as fit for this sort of show as Mrs. Lorimer," he observed drily. "She had the sense to stay away."
"I couldn't," Avery said.
"For goodness' sake," he exclaimed roughly, "don't let that young ruffian tyrannize over you! You will never know any peace if you do."
Avery smiled a little and was silent.
"Why are you so painfully thin?" he pursued relentlessly. "What's the matter with you? When I saw you in church just now I had a positive shock."
She put out her hand to him. "I am quite all right," she assured him, still faintly smiling. "I should have sent for you if I hadn't been."
"It's high time you sent for me now," said Tudor.
He looked at her searchingly through his glasses, holding her hand firmly clasped in his.
"Are you happy?" he asked her suddenly.
She started at the question, started and flushed. "Why--why do you ask me that?" she said in confusion.
"Because you don't look it," he said plainly. "No, don't be vexed with me! I speak as a friend--a friend who desires your happiness more than anything else on earth. And do you know, I think I should see a doctor pretty soon if I were you. If you don't, you will probably regret it. Get Piers to take you up to town! Maxwell Wyndham is about the best man I know. Go to him!"
"Thank you," Avery said. "Perhaps I will."
It was at this point that a sudden uproarious laugh sounded from below the window near which they sat, Avery looked round startled, and Tudor frowned.
"It's that little brute of a best man--drunk as a lord. He's some sort of cousin of Guyes', just home from Australia; and the sooner he goes back the better for the community at large, I should say."
"Piers knows him!" broke almost involuntarily from Avery.
And with that swiftly she turned her head to listen, for the man outside had evidently gathered to himself an audience at the entrance of a tent that had been erected for refreshments, and was declaiming at the top of his voice.
"Eric Denys was the name of the man. He was a chum of mine. Samson we used to call him. This Evesham fellow killed him in the first round. I've never forgotten it. I recognized him the minute I set eyes on him, though it's years ago now. And he recognized me! I wish you'd seen his face." Again came the uncontrolled, ribald laughter. "A bully sort of squire, eh? I suppose he's a justice of the peace now, a law-giver, eh? Damn funny, I call