Marmaduke Part 9

"Margaret," interrupted the minister sharply, "oblige me by not entreating your brother to silence. Let him speak if he chooses. We are not ashamed of ourselves."

All this time Mdlle. Le Grand had been watching the scene with her sharp eyes, and her acute little brain had been working out any advantage to herself. Now she saw her way and slipped forward with a smile.

"My dear Marmaduke," she said, as the two men stood glaring at each other, "live and let live is a valuable motto. You must remember that Margaret can also tell on us. Silence on both sides is the best way out of the difficulty. Don't you think so, Miss Muir?"

Margaret gave a frightened look at her brother.

"Ah, Duke," she cried, "you don't mean to say you----"

Fantine Le Grand interrupted her with perfect aplomb.

"That has nothing to do with it, my dear young lady; but you know as well as I do what would happen if your father got wind of this excursion of ours. So, as I said, silence is wise. Don't you agree with me, sir?"

The Reverend Patrick Bryce once more made the bow of a marquis.

"I reserve the right to speak if I choose----"

"And so do I," she retorted sweetly, "only we won't choose. Come, Marmaduke, it is time we were going back. Had we not better take your sister with us? It will look better--for both sides."

And here she gave a delightful tinkle of a laugh.

She kept up the role so well on the return journey that simple Margaret Muir was quite fascinated, and when, artfully, the suggestion was made that Marmaduke should see his sister home to the Dower House, the latter took the occasion to remark, as the former had hoped she would, on her surprise at finding Mdlle. Le Grand so agreeable and so well mannered.

"She is very charming," replied Marmaduke, a trifle gloomily, "and very clever."

He felt vaguely that he had been played with, and that he had had no more responsibility in the game than a p.a.w.n at chess. He felt also that the compact of silence with his sister brought imaginings nearer to reality.

And the idea of that six months on the Continent was a temptation; anyhow, he would have another go at the old man first.

If he still refused--well, on his head be it!

CHAPTER VIII

Days are long to a man and a woman when one of them pa.s.sionately desires the other, for every instant counts, every moment spells success or failure. And Fantine Le Grand, with her almost lifelong experience of intrigue, was not one to let the gra.s.s grow under her feet. So when, two days later, Marmaduke ran over the quadrangle to beg a favour of Marrion Paul, most of his scruples had disappeared, and, for the time, at any rate, he was an admiring lover, eager to do anything and everything for the woman of the moment.

"You can, quite well, if you like, Marrion," he pleaded. "It would only be for a day or two, till Josephine could put her foot to the ground again. And Mdlle. Le Grand--she has been very much maligned, Marmie--is perfectly charming. Now do. It isn't often I ask you to do anything for me, is it?"

Marrion Paul had opened her eyes at the proposition, which was briefly that, during the temporary disablement of Mdlle. Le Grand's French maid, she should go over and take her place. She had been on the point of refusal when that "for me" startled her. Was it possible that he could count that woman's convenience his own? She hesitated, but only for a second.

"I will do what I can for you, Captain Duke," she said.

In an instant all the old charm, all the old _camaraderie_ came to his voice--

"I knew you would, Marmie. I told her so. You're a real friend, you do such a lot of things for me." Then he in his turn hesitated, looked confused, and finally spoke: "I had such odd dreams that night--the night we danced, you know. I dreamt that you helped me up the stairs and--and put me to bed like a baby." He paused. "Did you, really, Marmie?"

The colour rushed to her face.

"Aye, Captain Duke, I did. Andrew was ill and you were drunk."

Her straightforward candour abashed him beyond words.

"I'm sorry," he said at last, so humbly that her heart melted within her. Then he added, with a sudden influx of joyousness, "But I'm really going to turn over a new leaf. I'm going to cut and run before long and let my father stew in his own juice."

She caught him up instantly.

"Your father's your father, Mr. Duke, and you're the heir to the old barony. You mustn't forget that. It's laid on you, and it's not to be put aside."

He paused as he was going, vexedly.

"I'm not going to put it aside, Marmie. I am only going to make the best of a bad bargain. If the old lord won't give me the money for my majority, I'm not going to stick on here getting drunk to please him."

There was distinct virtue in the last phrase, and Marmie smiled. And as she looked in the old clothes drawer for some black silk-frilled ap.r.o.ns which her mother had worn when she was maid to the first Lady Drummuir, she told herself that Duke was nothing but--as he had said--a big baby, and that, no matter what the dancing-woman might be like, she, Marrion, was glad to be in a position where she could see for herself what was going on.

She looked very demure, very uncompromising and upright, therefore, when that same afternoon, attired after a little coloured sketch of her mother as maid, she stood waiting for Fantine Le Grand to come up and dress for dinner. Yet, even so, the latter's instant and quite unpremeditated remark was--

"Captain Muir did not tell me you were so good-looking."

It was a revelation to Marrion's quick wits, but she was ready in reply.

"Maybe he never looked to see, ma'am," she said demurely, "having his eyes busy with prettier things."

Fantine Le Grand laughed easily and her manner changed to more familiarity at once.

"You know which side your bread is b.u.t.tered, my girl. So much the better. Now I wonder how much use you will be?"

"I was six years at the dressmaking, madam," replied Marrion, "and the forewoman gave me all the touching-up work; she said I had a good hand for folds."

Fantine gave a relieved sigh.

"Then you're not quite a b.u.mpkin, but I suppose you can't do hair?"

"I can, a little," said Marrion; "I learnt just a wee while in Perragier's shop in Edinburgh. The foreman wanted me to stop, but I don't care for the business."

All of which was absolutely true; for the hairdresser who had offered her gold for her russet hair had afterwards offered her his heart and hand. What is more he had hardly yet withdrawn his offer, and only that morning the post had brought her a long and friendly letter enclosing a sachet and a most particular account of how he had dressed the hair of all the Edinburgh celebrities in the latest fas.h.i.+on for the last big ball.

"I'm thinking," she went on deftly, "that the new Sevigne style would just suit madam, if she will allow me to try. There will be time to change if it doesn't please."

Five minutes later Fantine Le Grand, in pink wrapper, was watching in the gla.s.s Marrion's fingers curling and twisting and combing and puffing. And Marrion was watching the gla.s.s also, a half inherited, half acquired perception of what was beautiful and becoming aiding her lack of practice.

"My dear girl," said Fantine delighted, when Marrion stepped back, her task completed, "you're an artist! It makes me look ten years younger.

You must come with me." She paused and gave a little conscious laugh.

"Anyhow, you are much better than Josephine, and so I shall tell Captain Muir."

Apparently she did, for Marrion, meeting him by chance that evening on the stairs, had to draw back from his outstretched hand.