When she joined him in the corridor the Gearys were waiting for them, and Coralie immediately began to chatter. Her conversation was like a very light champagne, sparkling but not mounting to the brain. Lee felt distinctly bored. She would have liked to dine alone with Cecil and then to spend with him a long evening of mutual explanation and reminiscence, and many intervals. She answered Coralie at random, and in a few moments her mind reverted with a startled leap to the pregnant hours of the afternoon. Could she keep Cecil ignorant of the disgrace which had threatened him? Had Pix gone? Would Emmy hold her counsel? She had forgotten to ask Lord Barnstaple to keep away from her; but such advice was hardly necessary.
“Where on earth did you disappear to this afternoon?” Coralie was demanding. “I hunted over the whole Abbey for you and I got lost and then I tried to talk to that Miss Pix and she asked me all about divorce in the United States—of all things! I wonder if she’s got a husband tucked away somewhere—those monumental people are often bigger fools than they look. I told her that American divorces were no good in England unless they were obtained on English statutory grounds—we’d known some one who’d tried it. She looked as mad as a hornet, just like her brother for a minute. And he fairly makes me ill, Lee. Just fancy our having such people in the house. I must say that the English with all their blood——”
“Oh, do keep quiet!” said Lee impatiently. Then she apologised hurriedly. “I have a good deal to think about just now,” she added.
Coralie was gazing at her with a scarlet face. “Well, I think it’s about time you came back to California,” she said sarcastically. “Your manners need brushing up.”
But Lee only shrugged her shoulders and refused to humble herself further. She was beset with impatience to reach the library and ascertain if Pix had gone.
He was there. And he was standing apart with his sister. His set thick profile was turned to the door. He was talking, and it was evident that his voice was pitched very low.
As the company was passing down the corridor which led to the stair just beyond the dining-room, Lady Barnstaple’s maid came hastily from the wing beyond and asked Lee to take her ladyship’s place at the table.
It seemed to Lee as the dinner progressed that with a few exceptions every one was in a feverish state of excitement. The exceptions were the Pixes, who barely made a remark, Cecil, who seemed as usual and was endeavouring to entertain his neighbour, and Lord Barnstaple, whose brow was very dark. Mary Gifford’s large laugh barely gave its echoes time to finish, and the others certainly talked even louder and faster than usual. Randolph alone was brilliant and easy, and, to Lee, was manifestly doing what he could to divert the attention of his neighbours. Before the women rose it was quite plain that they were really nervous; and that the influence emanated from Pix. His silence alone would have attracted attention, for it was his habit to talk incessantly in order to conceal his real timidity. And he sat staring straight before him, scarcely eating, his heavy features set in an ugly sneer.
“I’m on the verge of hysterics,” said Mary Gifford to Lee as they entered the drawing-room. “That man’s working himself up to something. He’s a coward and his courage takes a lot of screwing, but he’s getting it to the sticking point as fast as he can, and I met him coming out of Emmy’s rooms about an hour before dinner. I ran over to speak to her about something, but I was not admitted. He looked as if they’d been having a terrible row and he was ready to murder some one. I’m in a real funk. But if he’s meditating a coup de théâtre we can baulk him for to-night at least. It’s a lovely night. Get everybody out-of-doors and then I’ll see that they scatter. I’ll start a romp the moment the men come out.”
“Good. I’ll send up for shawls at once. I’ll tell Coralie to look after Lord Barnstaple; she always amuses him. Then—I’ll dispose of Mr. Pix.”