Chapter XXIII: At Cross Purposes

Isla did not see her employer till ten o'clock next morning, by which time she had breakfasted _tete-a-tete_ with Mr. Bodley-Chard. When she was asked to go to Mrs. Chard's room the expression of her face indicated that she had not had a pleasant morning.

Mrs. Chard was not yet out of her bedroom, which communicated with the boudoir by folding-doors. She was lying down, but her pale face brightened at sight of Isla.

"Good morning, dear. I wanted to see you ever so long ago, but Edgar said you had not time to come."

"Oh," said Isla stiffly, "I did not know you wanted me, or I should have been here sooner. I hope you slept well and feel better this morning?"

"I sleep too much, I think," she said with a weary yawn. "I was asleep by half-past nine last night, and I'm not long awake. Yes--I've had breakfast, all I ever do take. Sit down, and tell me what you have been about. Did you have a comfortable night, and did they get you all you wanted?"

"Everything. My wants are simple, and I can help myself. The housemaid is very kind and attentive."

"And you gave Edgar his breakfast? I hope you enjoyed that. Isn't he charming? And I must tell you a great secret. He is charmed with you. I am so glad, because I've had such trouble with my lady-housekeepers. Either they could not get on with my husband, or they wanted to be with him too much. Women are so tiresome and so catty to one another."

Isla repressed an inordinate desire to laugh.

"Tell me what you talked about, won't you?" Mrs. Chard continued. "It's being kept in the dark in my own house that I hate so much. It isn't fair--do you think it is? For, after all, though I am not strong I do take an interest in things."

"I didn't say much. Mr. Chard talked a good deal--principally about you."

"Oh, indeed; and what did he say? Told you all sorts of naughty things, I suppose?"

The spectacle of this elderly woman waxing coquettish on the subject of her husband filled Isla with a curious mixture of pity and amusement.

"No. He was chiefly trying to impress on me the fact that you are very ill and that you require to be kept quiet and not worried in the least."

"Dear Edgar! he is most considerate! He quite spoils me."

"I was very much surprised to hear that you had no doctor in attendance, Mrs. Bodley-Chard. Wouldn't it be better for you to see some one?"

Mrs. Bodley-Chard uplifted her hands in mute protest.

"Doctors! I've spent fortunes on them, and they've never done me the smallest good. The last one I had--a man from Mount Street, a very new broom who was going to sweep the West End quite clean--quarrelled with Edgar. What do you think? He actually had the audacity to say that there was nothing whatever the matter with me and that, if I were a poor woman who had to get my living, I should be going about quite well."

Isla privately wished she knew that doctor. She felt sure that she should like him.

"But perhaps, though he need not have put it so harshly, there was a grain of truth in what he said, and at least it was an honest expression of opinion."

"Edgar was furious and kicked him out of the house--not actually, you know, but he told him very plainly what he thought of him. They had a frightful row, and he said all sorts of things to Edgar--impertinent, even libellous things. Poor dear, he was very good about it, and, for my sake, took no further steps against Dr. Stephens, because he did not wish me to be worried."

"And since then?"

"Since then I haven't had anybody, and I'm just as well without anybody. Edgar is very clever. He studied medicine for a time before he went on the Stock Exchange, and I believe that it was because Stephens found that he knew a little too much that they quarrelled as they did. Edgar gives me all the medicine I need, which isn't much--chiefly, sleeping-draughts. I used to have such dreadful nights before he took me in hand. Fancy! Dr. Stephens wanted to stop the sleeping-draughts."

"I don't wonder at that," said Isla quickly. "I should like to stop them, too."

"You'd never be so cruel. Nobody would. Why, they are my greatest comfort. I suffer so with my head."

"But it is very dangerous to use them, as you do, without proper medical supervision."

"But, you see, I have medical supervision. My husband quite understands all about them."

"It is very dangerous," asserted Isla firmly, "and I am surprised that Mr. Bodley-Chard does not see it."

"Ah, now you are going to be cross and horrid, just as my first husband used to be. He hated ill-health. He was one of those great big, overpowering sort of men who never have a day's illness in their lives. But he dropped down dead suddenly one day when we were lunching in the city together. Oh, it was dreadful! I can never forget Edgar's kindness at that time. He was Mr. Bodley's chief clerk and understood all his business. So, you see, when I married him it made everything very easy. I have not the smallest trouble about money now."

Isla listened to all this with very mixed feelings, and she tried to be just in her judgment of Mr. Bodley-Chard. But she found that the most difficult of all the tasks set her at Hans Crescent.

She tried to change the subject.

"It's a beautiful morning, Mrs. Chard. Won't you let me help you to dress so that we may get out in the sunshine? Have you a carriage?"

"Not now. We simply job one at Burdett's. But I don't want to go out, thank you. Edgar is so afraid of a chill for me. We are very happy, Miss Mackinnon," she said with a small touch of dull defiance in her heavy eyes. "In spite of the ten years' difference in our ages, I could not have a more devoted husband. Mr. Bodley was so different! He was the sort of man who makes people run about for him, and he used to shout at the servants dreadfully. Not but what he was kind enough and generous enough, too, in his way. But he had not dear Edgar's delicacy of feeling. He is never cross, however put out he may be. He says that a gentleman's first duty is to control his temper."

Isla listened to this eulogy wholly unmoved. She had by this time arrived at the conclusion that Mrs. Bodley-Chard's mental faculties were impaired by bodily weakness and by indulgence in some form of narcotic. She made up her mind very quietly to do what she could to combat the unwholesome forces which surrounded this woman's life, and already she had vague ideas of her plan of campaign. If only she could persuade Mrs. Chard to call in that Mount Street doctor, between them they might manage to bring her back to the plane of active, healthy life.

Isla's practised eye told her that there was no actual disease, but that her hypochondriacal weakness had been so pandered to that she had completely lost her will-power. It was a sad spectacle, and Isla rose with courage to the idea of working some improvement.

She must go warily, however, realizing the fact that she had much prejudice to overcome. With Mr. Bodley-Chard's opinion or attitude in the matter she did not concern herself. She was his wife's servant, and she would do her duty by her.

Isla's introduction to this domestic drama was the very best thing that could have happened to her just then. She threw herself heart and soul into it with all the ardour of her Celtic temperament; only she was liable to err in the haste and impulsiveness with which she desired to act.

"Then you won't go out to-day?" she said coaxingly--"not even after I have been out and reported on the sunshine?"

"Not to-day--another day perhaps, and if Edgar likes the idea we could all have a little drive together. I'm going to sleep again now. Did you ever see such a sleepy-head?"

Isla had her own thoughts as she left the room to interview the cook and to take up her position definitely in the household. That part of her business presented no difficulties whatever. The one thing that filled her with misgiving was the physical and mental condition of Mrs. Bodley-Chard.

Her dislike of the husband had increased after her conversation with him at the breakfast table. He had started by being complimentary and charming, but, finding Isla unresponsive, had then spoken rather disagreeably about her position in the household, warning her quite pointedly that Mrs. Bodley-Chard was in the hands of a capable maid who understood her temperament and who would not brook any interference from outside. Isla listened in silence, and, remembering her impression of Fifine, felt her pity for Mrs. Chard increase.

Having reduced the new inmate of the house to silence and--as he thought--submission, Mr. Bodley-Chard departed airily to the city to forget all about his wife. For the first time, however, since he had become a pensioner on a rich woman's bounty he was to find himself weighed in the balance and found wanting. Isla's eyes had a disconcerting clearness, and her recent experiences had made her suspicious and critical of all mankind.

She found that her duties in the house were by no means heavy.

There was a sufficient staff of servants to do the work properly, though they wanted careful handling. Isla's gift in that direction was a special one. She had that nice mixture of friendliness and hauteur which made its due impression on the women of a household which had never had a proper mistress. When they found that Miss Mackinnon knew her business, and that she intended that they should know theirs, too, they submitted with a very fair grace.

There were five servants in the house besides the French maid. Fifine was Isla's only failure, and before she had been a week in the house she was obliged to conclude that the Frenchwoman was Mr. Bodley-Chard's ally, working with him to keep his wife in a state of bodily helplessness and mental confusion.

On Sunday afternoon she walked across the Park in the cool autumn wind to tell Agnes Fraser some of her experiences. She found that good lady much perturbed by a letter which she had received from Elspeth Maclure.

"Read that, Miss Isla, and tell me what to say when I write back. It's maistly aboot you."

Isla sat down and took out Elspeth's rather badly written sheet, while Agnes critically regarded her and was obliged to admit that she looked better than when she had left her house four days before.

Elspeth wrote without embroidery to her old neighbour of her own concerns and of the things that were happening in the Glen:--

"DARRACH, LOCHEARNHEAD, 18 _October_.

"DEAR NANCE,--It's ages since onybody has heard from you, but I must write, for things are that queer here that you would hardly ken the Glen. I suppose you have heard about the American folk in Achree. There's naething the matter with them, and some of us wish that they were there for good and that we had no other Laird. We were to leave at Martinmas, but Donald has gotten round the Laird to let him stop another year at a higher rent. That will give us time to look about. But, as I said to Miss Isla, my man will never leave Darrach and live. He'll be found in the Loch afore the day comes, or else dee of a broken hert in the bed where he was born. Miss Isla has gone away from the Glen, but maybe you have seen her. She seemed to forget all about us lately, but the poor lassie's head must be near turned with all the trouble of Achree. They're saying in the Glen that her and the Laird had words before she left and even that he doesn't know now where she is. Some say she has gone away to foreign parts to Lady Mackinnon, and then, again, there's some say naebody kens where she is. It's a terible business anyway, and if you have seen or heard tell of her I wish you would write and let us know, for there's a heap of folk in the glens that are not easy in their minds about it. They're saying, to, that the Laird is after one of the Miss Rosmeads--the one that divorced her man in America, but that there's somebody else has a grip of him. There was a woman stopping at the Strathyre Hotel. William Thorn that is the Boots there told Donald about her the other day. And it seems that she talked a lot about the Laird and about what would happen if he sought to marry Mrs. Rodney Payne. Then, quite suddenly--I believe it was the very night before Miss Isla went away--he went to Strathyre and saw her. They went out for a walk together, and the next morning she left with the train. Sic ongauns, Nance--very different from the auld days at Achree when we wass all happy together! Write soon to your auld neibour and say what you think about all this, and mind you tell me if you've see Miss Isla. That's the chief thing. Only don't send a postcard, Nance, for David Bain reads every wan of them and the Glen hass all the news afore a body gets it themselves. Love from your auld neibour,

"ELSPETH MACLURE".

Isla laid down the closely-written sheet, and a little quiver ran across her face.

Agnes Fraser sat forward, her questioning eyes very eager and bright.

"What am I to say, then, Miss Isla?"

"Say, Agnes, that you have seen me and that I am quite well. But I forbid you to give any particulars. Do you understand?"

"I understand, of course, but I dinna see, Miss Isla, how it is possible for ye to live long like this. Some o' your folk will come seekin' ye--that's a sure thing. If Mr. Malcolm believes that ye have gane to Lady Mackinnon he will soon be hearin' frae them that you are not there. It's a dreadfu' business a'thegither, and I hate the idea of where ye are now. It doesn't sound richt at a'. Leave it the morn, Miss Isla, and come back here."

"No, no. I am very comfortable. I am well paid, and I am interested in what's going on in the house. I had no idea that there were such exciting incidents in real life. I feel really as if I were a sort of Sherlock Holmes, and I don't worry half as much as I used to do about my own affairs."

Isla spoke as she felt at the moment, but the time came when she realized that there had been more truth and foresight in Agnes Fraser's point of view than she had admitted.

After four days' close observation in the household of Mrs. Bodley-Chard she arrived at an absolute conviction as to what was actually happening. Mrs. Chard was being kept continuously under the influence of drugs that were gradually destroying her will-power and leaving her ever weaker and weaker and more utterly in the hands of her unscrupulous husband.

That he was unscrupulous Isla had not had the smallest doubt from the moment she entered the house. Also, she had satisfied herself that the French maid carried out all his instructions regarding her mistress, and, as she was in close attendance on her, while Isla was only an occasional visitor to her room, she had everything in her power.

Finding that Isla kept him at arm's length and that she had not the smallest intention of being friendly with him, Mr. Bodley-Chard abandoned all his efforts to attract her and treated her in a very off-hand manner. Without being positively rude, his manner was most offensive.

Isla, however, entrenched herself behind her natural reserve and did not mind. One day she made so bold as to put a very straight question to Mr. Chard.

"Mrs. Chard is very unwell to-day," she said quietly and politely. "She is quite unable to give her mind to any of her ordinary affairs."

"There is no occasion for her to give her mind to anything. People are paid to do the work of the house," he said pointedly.

"That is not what I mean. Her mind seems to wander. May I call in a doctor? It distresses me to see her like that."

A cold, almost baleful light came into his eyes, and his mouth, under the carefully-trimmed moustache, became very ugly.

"You are my wife's housekeeper--not her nurse."

"Pardon. I was engaged as a housekeeper-companion," said Isla quite clearly. "And I can't see her growing worse every day without being troubled about it. Hasn't she any relations or friends who could come and take her in hand, then? It does not seem right to leave her so much in the hands of a flighty French maid."

"Are you aware that your words are offensive and that they cast an imputation upon me? When I think my wife requires other attention or supervision it will be time to get it. She has the most implicit confidence in me--or had until you sought to undermine it."

Isla did not even take the trouble to deny the false charge, but merely left the room, seriously troubled about what was her duty in the matter.

A week later, she left the house one morning to do her ordinary shopping and, in the course of her outing, walked the whole length of Mount Street, looking for the house of Dr. Stephens. When she found it she hesitated a moment or two before she rang the bell. She was only encouraged to take this step by the reflection that a doctor's consulting-room is the grave of many secrets and that nothing she could say there would be used against her.

A motor-car was in waiting, and when the door of the house was opened she saw the doctor coming out to start upon his rounds.

"I am just going out, but I can see you, of course," he said cordially enough, leading the way to his consulting-room.

Isla's first look at him pleased her. He was tall and thin and clean-shaven with a clever, serious face--a man to whom it would be possible to explain the situation in a very few words.

"You don't know me, Dr. Stephens, and I hardly know how to explain my call this morning. I come from the house of Mrs. Bodley-Chard in Hans Crescent."

"Oh, indeed!" he said interestedly. "And how is Mrs. Chard?"

"She is very unwell," said Isla in a low, quick voice. "I am her housekeeper-companion. My name is Mackinnon."

"Yes?" said the doctor still interestedly. "Mrs. Bodley-Chard has had a good many, I think."

"I have been there only three weeks, and I am seriously concerned about her. It is because she told me you were once her medical attendant that I am here to-day."

"Yes. But as I have ceased attendance upon the lady I hardly know why you should have called."

"I simply had to come. Mrs. Chard has no doctor attending her at present. I understand that she has had none since you left. And it is quite time that somebody was on the spot to--to look after her. Otherwise I believe she will die."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because she is being kept almost continuously under the influence of drugs, administered by her husband and her French maid," said Isla quite clearly and unhesitatingly. "I believe myself there is nothing the matter with her except that, and if she were removed from it all she would get quite well."

Dr. Stephens took a turn across the floor, and when he came back to Isla's side his face was even graver than it had been.

"Miss Mackinnon, I don't for a moment doubt the truth of what you are saying. On the contrary, I know it to be perfectly true. But we are quite powerless."

"Oh, how can you say that! It is terrible if two responsible persons know that this wicked thing is going on and take no steps to stop it! I can't be a party to it, and I was in hopes that you would help me."

"I was kicked out of the house by that unspeakable cad, Chard, and I can't go back again. We have no possible way of getting at him, except one--to lodge a complaint with the police. Are you prepared to do that? Frightful responsibility is incurred by taking that step, of course--to say nothing of the publicity attending it."

Isla sank back.

"Oh, Dr. Stephens, I couldn't do that! But surely you, an influential medical man, knowing the facts, can do something--ought to do something----"

He shook his head.

"I'm not so well up in medical jurisprudence as I used to be," he said with a slight smile. "But I'll take expert opinion to-day. Could you possibly come and see me to-morrow?"

"I could, of course. What I am trying to do is to persuade Mrs. Chard to let you resume personal attendance on her. If she consents will you come?"

"I don't know. It is a very awkward case. Don't forget that Chard put me out of the house because I told him quite plainly--well, just what you have told me to-day."

Isla saw the difficulties of the position and, after a little more conversation with the doctor which strengthened her determination to get him back to the house, she bade him good-morning.

When she reached Hans Crescent it was almost lunch-time, and Robbins, the butler, was waiting for her with a note.

"This has come by hand from the city for you, Miss. It is from Mr. Chard."

Isla turned aside to open the letter, and when she broke the seal she saw a pink slip that looked like a cheque.

Within, there were written a few curt words, dismissing her from her position in the house and requesting that she would leave before four o'clock.

With reddening cheeks she passed up the stairs and tapped lightly at the door of Mrs. Chard's room. There was no answer, and, after repeated knocks, she tried to open the door and found it locked.

At the moment Fifine appeared at the other end of the corridor with a small, satisfied smirk on her lips.

"Mrs. Chard can't see you, Mees. She particularly said I was not to let you in. She's asleep now. She told me to say that she will write to you in the evening if you will be good enough to leave your address."

Isla turned on her heel, her quick Highland temper flashing in her eyes. She was very sorry for the poor woman, but she could not be ordered from her house a second time.

She walked to her own room and began to gather her belongings together.