The Wicked Marquis Part 11

"But, my dear man," she remonstrated, "you must know that those things are impossible. I would kiss you willingly if you were my friend, and if you were content with that, but you know it would only be hypocrisy if you pretended that you were. But listen," she went on. "I, too, sometimes think of these things. I will be very frank with you. I know that I have changed lately, and I know that the change has something to do with you. Reginald is sometimes a little restless about it. A time may come when he will provoke an explanation. When that time comes, I want to answer him with a clear conscience."

Mr. James Borden brightened up considerably.

"That's the most encouraging thing I've heard you say for a long time,"

he confessed.

She smiled.

"There are all sorts of possibilities yet," she said. "Now fetch a clothes brush and let me give you a good brus.h.i.+ng, and you can take me out to lunch--that is to say, if you can find something decent to wear on your head," she went on, pointing to a somewhat disreputable looking hat which hung behind the door. "I won't go out with you in that."

"That," he replied cheerfully, "is easily arranged. I can change my clothes in five minutes, if you prefer it."

She shook her head.

"You look quite nice when you're properly brushed," she a.s.sured him.

"Send upstairs for another hat, and we'll go into the grill room at the Savoy. I want a sole colbert, and a cutlet, and some of those little French peas with sugar. Aren't I greedy!"

"Delightfully," he a.s.sented. "If you only realised how much easier it is to take a woman out who knows what she wants!"

They lunched very well amidst a crowd of cosmopolitans and lingered over their coffee. Their conversation had been of books and nothing but books, but towards the end Marcia once more spoke of herself.

"You see, James," she told him, "I have the feeling that if Reginald really does succeed in freeing the estates from their mortgages, he will have any quant.i.ty of new interests in life. He will probably be lord-lieutenant of the county, and open up the whole of Mandeleys.

Then his town life would of course be quite different. I shall feel--can't you appreciate that?--as though my task with him had come naturally and gracefully to an end. We have both fulfilled our obligations to one another. If he can give me his hand and let me go--well, I should like it."

She looked so very desirable as she smiled at him that Borden almost groaned. She patted his hand and changed the conversation.

"Very soon," she continued, "I am going to undertake a painful duty. I am going down to Mandeleys."

"Not with him?"

She shook her head.

"My father is back in England," she explained. "He has come back from America and is living in the cottage of many lawsuits. I must go down and see him."

"Has the boy returned, too?" he enquired.

"I have heard nothing about him," Marcia replied. "He was very delicate when he was young, and I am not even sure whether he is alive.

My father probably doesn't want to see me in the least, but I feel I ought to go."

"You wouldn't like me to motor you down, I suppose?" Borden suggested diffidently. "The country is delightful just now, and it would do us both good. I could get away for three days quite easily, and I could bring some work with me to peg away at whilst you are being dutiful."

"I should love it," she declared frankly, "and I don't see the least reason why we shouldn't go. You won't mind," she went on, after a second's hesitation, "if I mention it to Reginald? I am sure he won't object."

James Borden bit through the cigarette which he had just lit, threw it away and started another.

"You must do whatever you think right," he said. "Perhaps you will telephone."

"As soon as I know for certain," she promised him.

CHAPTER VIII

It was obvious that the Marquis was pleased with himself when he was shown into Marcia's little sitting room later on that same afternoon.

He was wearing a grey tweed check suit, a grey bowler hat, and a bunch of hothouse violets in his b.u.t.tonhole. His demeanour, as he drew off his white chamois leather gloves and handed them, with his coat and cane, to the little parlourmaid, was urbane, almost benevolent.

"You look like the springtime," Marcia declared, rising to her feet, "and here have I been cowering over the fire!"

"The wind is cold," her visitor admitted, "but I had a brisk walk along the Embankment."

"Along the Embankment?"

"I have been to one of those wonderful, cosmopolitan hotels," he told her, as he bent down and kissed her, "where they have hundreds of bedrooms and every guest is a potential millionaire."

"Business?"

"Business," he a.s.sented. "My lawyers--I am very displeased, by-the-by, with Mr. Wadham--having been unable for many years to a.s.sist me in disposing of the mortgages upon Mandeleys, I am making efforts myself in that direction, efforts which, as I believe I told you, show much promise of success."

"I am delighted to hear it," she replied. "From every point of view, it would be so satisfactory for you to have the estates freed once more. You would be able to entertain properly, wouldn't you, and take up your rightful position in the county?"

The Marquis seated himself in his favourite easy-chair.

"It is quite true," he confessed, "that I have been unable, for the last ten years, to exercise that position in the county to which I am ent.i.tled. I must confess, moreover, that the small economies which have formed a necessary and galling part of my daily life have become almost unendurable. You received my cheque, I hope?"

She nodded and laid it upon the table.

"It was dear of you, Reginald," she said, "but do you know it's astonis.h.i.+ng how well I seemed to be able to get on without those last three payments. I am earning quite a great deal of money of my own, you know, and I do wish you would let me try and be independent."

His grey eyes were fixed almost coldly upon her.

"Independent? Why?"

"Oh, don't be foolish about it, please," she begged. "For nineteen years, I think it is now, you have allowed me six hundred a year. Do you realise what a great deal of money that is? Now that I am beginning to earn so much for myself, it is absurd for me to go on taking it."

"Do I understand it to be your desire, then, Marcia," he asked, "to effect any change in our relations?"

She came over and sat on the arm of his chair.

"Not unless you wish it, dear," she replied, "only the money--well, in a sense I've got used to having it all these years, because it was necessary, but now that it isn't necessary, I can't help feeling that I should like to do without it. I earned nearly six hundred pounds, you know, last year, by my stories."

The Marquis had half closed his eyes. He had become momentarily inattentive. Somehow or other, Marcia realised that her words had brought him acute suffering. There were tears in her eyes as she took his hand.

"Don't be silly about this, Reginald dear," she pleaded. "If it means so much to you to feel--I mean, if you look upon this money as really a tie between us--give me a little less, then--say three hundred a year, instead of six."

Her visitor was recovering his momentarily disturbed composure.

"You are still nothing but a child in money matters, dear," he said.

"We will speak of this again before the end of the year, but in the meantime, if you have anything to spare, invest it. It is always well for a woman to have something to fall back upon."