OLD FRIENDS AND STRANGE NEWS
By some unexplained miracle it turned out that Nancy's chaperon—Lady Jane Wynne—had actually caught the train, and Mayne overheard the party volubly congratulating one another, as they moved out of the station. And so that slim girl in white, carrying a green sunshade, was Mrs. Mayne! Among all that great crowd, there was no one to approach her in looks and distinction. If people were to know the truth, how widely he would be envied!
His uncle clamoured for him to take a wife, and there she was, strolling up the path in front of him—supported on either hand by an assiduous escort. Supposing he were to claim her? Here was a very different individual to the poor little girl in India, who was distracted with grief, and misery. There was something amazingly attractive about this new, and radiant Nancy. His inspection in the railway carriage, had shown him, an undeniably happy face!
Meanwhile the object of his reflections,—for all her assumed animation—felt shattered, by her recent experience, and talked the wildest nonsense to her companions, as she made her way to the stand. Here numerous acquaintances accosted, and surrounded her and her party. To-day, Miss Travers' gaiety was feverish, her colour unusually high, and her laugh almost hysterical. Soon after the second race, she complained of a headache, and sought a seat on the way to the paddock, where, attended by Sir Dudley Villars, she sheltered behind her sunshade.
Sir Dudley was not a racing man; cards, he could understand; but betting, and backing horses, he looked upon as childish! Races, were all right, as institutions—where you met your friends, had a fair lunch, inspected the newest beauties, and heard the latest gossip. To sit by Nancy Travers, studying her exquisite complexion, listening to her somewhat disjointed chatter, was a thousand times more agreeable, than being precariously perched on the top of a stand, following with a field-glass, the speedy movements, of a little bunch of thoroughbreds!
During a lull, before one of the big events, a seemingly endless procession passed backwards and forwards between the paddock, and the stand. Sir Dudley pointed out various celebrities to Nancy,—adding in each case some pithy, or cynical remark. She did not wish to be noticed and accosted, and kept her parasol well before her face, but the hat of her companion seemed to be scarcely ever on his head; his acquaintance appeared to be as the sands of the sea!
"There's the Duchess of Doncaster,—I see she is bringing out her second girl,—hard luck on Lady Alfreda. There's Claverhouse of the Blues, and the little American widow; I wonder if that will come off?"
These and other remarks were received by his partner, with nods and monosyllables. Her thoughts were elsewhere; her mind was in a tumult of fear, and bewilderment. Supposing Derek Mayne were to come forward, and claim her; what was to be her attitude? What would Mrs. De Wolfe think?—yes, and all her girl friends,—who talked to her so frankly, of their love affairs; Nora Wynne, Brenda Miller, and various others,—for she looked and was, a born confidante, and sympathizer,—what would be their feelings, when they were informed, that their simple Nancy had actually a husband in the background? Her reflections were interrupted by her companion suddenly asking, "I hope you had a good day?"
"'A good day?'" she repeated to herself. It was one of the worst, she had ever known! But she smiled faintly, and replied, "Oh, yes,—I've won! Tony Lamerton has given me tips. I put ten shillings on 'Dear Me.'"
"So I see that fellow Mayne is home again," remarked Sir Dudley; "strolling about with his old love,—Josie Speyde. She is looking remarkably well to-day,—those daring colours, suit her bold, black style."
Nancy raised her sunshade a couple of inches, and peeped out cautiously. There they were! promenading slowly together, Josie talking and gesticulating with unusual animation, and Mayne?—she surveyed him critically,—yes, he was remarkably good-looking; well set-up, well-dressed, and could hold his own, even with her present companion!
"Do you know him?" she faltered.
"Who? Oh, Mayne?—yes. Not very well, he's in my club, and we just pass the time of day. Not a bad-looking chap; one of the rough-and-ready sort: goes in for polo, boxing, and soldiering. He's afflicted with the most appalling stepfather, Torquilstone,—I actually had to leave the High Light Club, as I simply couldn't stand him; he seemed to live in the smoking-room, and never gave us a day off! I hear that Mayne's people are keen to get him married, and that Lady Torquilstone is looking about for a suitable daughter-in-law,—no penniless beauty need apply."
It did not strike Sir Dudley that he had said anything particularly humorous, yet Nancy had burst into rather a wild, and unexpected laugh. How odd, and jerky she was to-day! headaches affected people in different ways: as he looked at her shining eyes, and brilliant colour, he leant towards her, and said in his most seductive manner:
"If you will be a good little girl, you won't sit here in the sun, but allow me to take you straight home; and go and lie down, and have ice on your head."
"Ice!" she repeated; "you have put it into my head! I'm dying for one, and here comes Tony; I promised I'd let him take me to their tent. I'll be quite all right to-morrow; we were such a frightful squash in our carriage coming down, that I was nearly suffocated with the heat,"—then rising as she spoke, "Here I am, Tony! I'm coming; did I really win five pounds!"—as he handed her a note. "Well, I'll give it to the Dog's Home."
Sir Dudley, who felt himself injured, and deserted, relinquished his pretty companion with what grace he could assume, and swept off his hat in his very best style. As he looked after the couple, he said to himself, "'Dogs' Home!' Much better return it to that bumptious young puppy,—who by all accounts is uncommonly hard up!"
Mayne, man-like, was not nearly so overwhelmed by their recent encounter as Nancy. He was still able to make bets, talk sanely to friends, and to follow the racing, with the keenest interest (although running through his thoughts, and keeping well ahead of the horses, was Mrs. Mayne). His present idea, was to make a move; a quiet cautious move, and try to find out, how the land lay? He had not failed to notice Nancy's numerous admirers; more than once, he had focussed her through his glasses, and though she played the "Ostrich," he was perfectly aware of the identity of the girl, who was sitting on the lawn, with that tame cat, Dudley Villars!—A tame, but not domestic cat! he knew something about him; and what he knew, was not to his advantage. A song-singing, insidious, unscrupulous, rascal,—and no fit companion for any innocent girl.
The sight of Villars, and his proprietary attitude, had awakened Mayne's jealousy, and materialized his intentions; he must see, and that without delay, how he could approach Nancy? Possibly some friendly third person, would assist him? It would be, he was aware,—a most delicate enterprise, yet "nothing venture, nothing have!"
As Mayne and a friend, were leaving the paddock, they almost ran into Teddy Dawson, Mrs. Hicks, and Jessie; he halted at once. This amazing encounter, was as unexpected, as it was providential! Here, as it were spirited from the ends of the earth,—were two of the witnesses to his marriage! and Dawson his best man, would stand by him now, as formerly.
The greetings of the little party were exceedingly cordial. Mrs. Hicks, Jessie and Ted were unaffectedly delighted to see Mayne. Teddy was now presentable, and "more,"—as his fiancée said,—"like a human being!" Mrs. Hicks radiantly happy, and attired in a bright green gown, with a pink silk frill round her neck,—recalled to Mayne, the common parroquet of India!
To secure a word with Teddy, Mayne presented his brother officer to the two ladies, and drawing him aside, said in an undertone:
"Guess who's here?"
"Yes, I know; I've seen her," replied Teddy; "isn't she ripping? Takes the whole cake, eh? Have you met?"
"We came down in the same carriage just now; she cut me dead!"
"Oh well, I expect she was a bit taken aback——"
"Look here, Dawson, I want to see you,—I must see you! I know your time is not your own,—but fix an early date to dine,—or something!—My club is the 'Rag.'"
"And mine's the 'Oriental.'"
"I say, you two," interposed Mrs. Hicks, laying a yellow claw, on Mayne's arm, "I won't have this! When two men get so confidential, I know they're after no good! Oh, I'm up to all your little games!" and she poked Mayne sharply with her fan. "If you are fixing a dinner, you must both dine with me! I know of such a nice, risky little restaurant, in Soho, where they do you 'A 1' for half a crown; and we'll all go on to a music-hall afterwards. Now, you come along, and get me a cup of tea," taking possession of Mayne; "I suppose you have tickets?" and still holding him fast, she led him captive towards the refreshment room. "I'm awfully glad you're home at last," she remarked, with significant emphasis.
"Thank you," said Mayne,—meeting the amused eye of a friend, who stared hard at the lady on his arm.
"It's on account of Nancy," she continued, confidentially; "have you seen her?"
"Yes; to-day."
"Now, who would have thought, she'd bloom out into such a beauty! But her mother was rarely pretty,—and you saw the Earl for yourself. Jessie and me lunched with Nancy, and the old lady yesterday; the old lady has a voice comes out of her boots, and Nancy is just the same as ever!"
"Is she?"
"Come now; don't you be so stiff, and stand off; it isn't every man who has a beauty, and a real nice girl for a wife. And then there's all the money!" and she nodded her head complacently.
"Money? What money?" he asked.
"Oh, Lord! haven't you heard? Why, she's got tons of it."
Mayne stared at his companion interrogatively.
"Just squeeze me in there, and get me a cup of tea,—two lumps! and then I'll tell you all about it in a jiffy!"
With a teacup in her hand, Mrs. Hicks resumed: "Do you mean to say, that you never heard, that Mr. Fletcher left Fairplains to Nancy?"
"No. Did he really?"
"Yes, and a couple of thousand a year, as well."
After a long pause, he asked, "How long ago?"
"About eighteen months. She was living with an aunt,—a real terror, by all accounts, and having a mighty poor time, and then she came in for this legacy. An old lady who had a fancy for Nancy, took her in hand, and they have been knocking about the Continent for quite a time. Now they are staying at the Hyde Park Hotel. The old lady, who has no family, is just wrapped up in Nancy. She's one of the 'ordering-about sort,' and has a man's nose, and deep voice. Her name is De Wolfe!"
"De Wolfe!" repeated her listener, in amazement. "Are you quite sure?"
"Yes, I'm both sure, and certain,—how could anyone forget such an outlandish name as that?"
"I know Mrs. De Wolfe well," said Mayne, "she and I come from the same part of the world."
"I am glad to hear it, and you can take over Nancy. It is not fair or respectable, that she should be going about as Miss Travers, turning all the men's heads,—when you and I know, that she's a married woman!"
Mayne made no reply, but accepted an empty teacup in silence, and Mrs. Hicks continued: "Of course, you will leave the service, and take a fine country place; for there's not only the Fletcher money, but the gold mine. I see! you've not heard of that, I suppose! They are working a big reef on Fairplains,—you know the place near Chuttibutti?"
"I've heard nothing whatever about Fairplains, since I last saw you," said Mayne, after a considerable pause, during which an agreeable day-dream, had been completely dispelled.
"You've only yourself to thank for that!" said Mrs. Hicks, shaking the crumbs from her green plumage. "You went away to the north of India, and dropped the whole lot of us, like so many 'ot potatoes. Those old workings have turned out very valuable,—Hicks always believed in them.—They say, they are bringing Nancy in about eight thousand a year, and will be worth more, as time goes on! What do you think of that?"—and she poked him facetiously with her pocket-fan. "Why, I declare, to look at you, one would say you'd lost a fortune! Come, come! buck up!"
"Mother!" interrupted Jessie breathlessly, "I've been looking for you everywhere; we are going to try, and catch the next train. You know we are dining in town, and doing a play,—so do, do make haste! Captain Mayne, you'll come, and see us, won't you?"
"Why, of course he will," replied her mother; "he and I have no end to say to one another,"—then turning to him, "Our address—have you a pencil, and I'll write it out on a bit of the race-card,—Torkington House, Baron's Court, quite in the wilds; but you're used to that! It was in the wilds that we met, ha! ha!"
"Oh, do come, mother!" cried Jessie, and seizing her by the arm, she dragged her parent almost forcibly away, but Teddy hung back for a second,—and said, "I'll telephone to your club, and fix a meeting!"—then he ran.
A change had come o'er the spirit of Mayne's dream; a bolt had descended from the blue! If Nancy had ten thousand a year, or thereabouts, how, he asked himself, could he come forward, and claim her? He had suddenly lost all interest in the meeting,—he had also mislaid his companion, and strolled over, and leant on the rails; not as others, watching an exciting race, but digesting Mrs. Hicks' unwelcome information. Her news, had altered the whole of his plans. Plans hastily made; and as hastily shattered.
Suddenly a heavy hand smote him on the back, and turning about he beheld Major Cathcart, looking remarkably spruce, and cheerful. "Glad to see you, old man," he began. "All the world seems to have turned up here to-day; and what a rare good meeting! I have pulled off a nice little haul." Then, after an expressive pause.... "You've had a bad time, I'm afraid!"
"Oh, no," replied Mayne, standing erect, and facing the speaker, "I've done pretty well, too."
"I say," now indicating a flowing tide of departures,—"if you are going by this train, we may as well toddle down together, and discuss old times."
Mayne nodded assent, and turned to accompany him.
"Where are you staying?" inquired Cathcart.
"With my mother, in Charles Street."
"And what leave have they given you?"
"All I asked for—three months."
"Of course you'll get an extension! Do you know that there has been quite a gathering of the hill tribes here to-day? I spotted Mrs. Hicks,—by George, what a sight! she ought to be in the Zoo, among the cockatoos. Her eldest girl, and Teddy Dawson, were with her, and then there's you and me,—and last but not least, Miss Nancy Travers! There's a transformation! She's a tremendous success, I can tell you. Men actually biting, and scratching one another, to get hold of her at dances, and so on. She's deuced ornamental, and well gilded too! and has slipped into the rôle of heiress, and beauty,—as easily as an old glove. You'd never believe she is the same girl as our little red-haired flapper! Have you come across her?"
"Not ... er ... to speak to."
"Well, all in good time; you and she used to be rather chummy, and by Jove, she could play tennis a bit! Mrs. De Wolfe, her chaperon, is a crafty old woman, and knows all the best people. She will do her best to fix a coronet, on that girl's head. I hear Lord Lanark is in the last stage of idiocy. I must confess I am rather surprised, that Mrs. De Wolfe allows Miss Nancy to be seen about with that fellow Villars. I am told, that he was always one of the little family party, on Como; painting, boating and caterwauling and all that sort of thing! He got the girl a good deal talked about,—but that's his little way!"
"Mayne never had much to say for himself," thought his companion, "now he did not seem to have a word, to throw at the traditional dog; but appeared to be totally dumb, and an absolutely uninterested listener. Well, there were crowds of other fellows, with whom he could improve the shining half-hour, to town," so with a "See you later on," Cathcart shook off this deadly wet-blanket, and hailed a passing acquaintance.