Chapter XLIII: “And woman’s slander is the worst!”

TENNYSON.

Vera agreed with the world at large that Tit-for-Tat is the ruling Principle, but she went on a step beyond in her ethics, in her ability to keep “Tat” for the appropriate moment. She lay on the sofa with a French novel and awaited Daphne’s arrival. She could see the carriage-drive from where she lay, and when she saw Reggie drive up, she closed her novel; it was not one she would quite like Reggie to see her read. When he was announced she held out her hand languidly.

“My dear Reggie,” she said, “this is really very nice of you. I have wanted to hear for ages how you liked your prospective stepfather?” Reggie took a moment selecting the most comfortable chair he could find. Then he turned his pleasantest and blankest expression to Lady Middleton.

“Why,” he said, “I haven’t been introduced to him yet. Is he a friend of yours?”

“Then you have not come to tell me about him?” she said with disappointment. She had not quite courage enough to break the news to him herself, but, of course, if he insisted on knowing he could not blame her. To her surprise he dropped the subject and briefly announced his purpose. Vera rose to her feet and then sank back again on to the cushions.

“Daphne,” she repeated, “Daphne! You have come to fetch Daphne to nurse Arthur Field?”

“Yes,” said Reggie, “I have.”

“This,” said Vera dramatically, “is terrible!” She watched Reggie beneath her eyelashes.

“It is very sad, isn’t it?” said he. He was absolutely unimpressed. She turned to him gravely and quietly:

“Reggie,” she said, “I don’t quite know what to do. What you have just told me has put me into a most difficult position. You have always been a friend of the family, and I must have some advice——”

“Your husband?” Reggie interrupted her.

“Is in London,” said Vera quickly, “Daphne is a motherless girl. I did not come to her in time. Oh! if it had been a few months earlier—I might have helped the poor child, I might have saved her!”

“What do you mean, Lady Middleton?” Reggie asked her sternly. Vera shuddered.

“It is dreadful—dreadful to have to tell you!” she said. “I do not know how she first got to know Arthur Field, but she fell desperately in love with him before she knew that he was already married. I was shocked and terrified when I discovered the state of things, and felt it my duty to tell her the whole story immediately. I told her—two weeks too late!” Reggie got up and went to the window. He heard the sound of wheels coming from the station road. Vera looked at her watch, she had at least ten minutes. “I broke off the affair at once,” she went on, “and for the girl’s sake kept it entirely quiet. I never even told her father. I blame myself for that now.” The wheels passed the gate. There was a girl and a man in the dog-cart laughing. Vera sighed deeply. “I urged her engagement to David, although in many ways I felt he was unsuitable. I was afraid to break off completely with Arthur Field; he is a dangerous man, and for the girl’s sake I had to be careful. He came to me at Overham, and I believed she struggled against his power over her—but I had to send him away. Then she went to his hospital and I gave her up. I had done all I could for her. Rosamonde’s return did, indeed, give me fresh hope, and as Arthur Field was not here I asked her to come to me again, but if she goes to him now, what am I to do? Is it not my duty to hush up this affair? No one will believe in the nursing story, and Daphne will not know that he ever sent for her? You are sure he is dying?”

“Quite sure,” said Reggie. The sound of wheels came near again, and Vera saw that her ten minutes were over.

“Let us say nothing at all about it?” she pleaded.

“I think I must give my message to Miss Fordington,” said Reggie steadily. The trap drove in at the gate, and he saw Daphne. Devonshire air had filled her face with life and colour, her eyes gleamed with happy expectation, she sprang lightly to the ground. In a moment more she was in the room, and Vera was murmuring “Dear child,” and ringing for the tea.

Reggie turned slowly, and faced her. Her colour deepened, and her eyes, when they met his, were full of a welcome, that a few minutes before would have made the world beautiful to him. He held out his hand frigidly.

“You must have had a long journey, Miss Fordington,” he said. Daphne turned away to the tea-table. For a moment she was speechless, and afraid that he would see, that he had hurt her.

Then, with a merry laugh, she broke into a history of her journey and its incidents. Vera, watching her, could tell nothing. She waited until Daphne had finished her tea before she turned to Reggie.

“Now, Reggie,” she said, “tell Daphne why you have come?” Then, leaning back in her chair, she looked from one to the other of them. Reggie’s eyes were fixed straight in front of him.

“I came to ask you to assist Miss Linton who is nursing a case in the neighbourhood at the house where I am staying,” he said; “perhaps you did not get her letter?”

“No,” said Daphne, wonderingly, “I thought she was off for her holiday.”

“She has been sitting up some nights, and she begged that if you were not too tired you would drive over with me and relieve her to-night.” He paused.

“Of course I will,” said Daphne; “who is the patient?”

“It is someone you know,” said Reggie. Then Daphne knew that he was going to break some news to her; she put her cup down very carefully and looked at him, but he would not meet her eyes.

“It is Mr. Arthur Field,” said Reggie. Vera watched Daphne’s face with increasing pleasure. All her happy colour had left her, her hands grasped the chair, with that strange clinging to the inanimate that terror gives. For the moment the room was so still that the country world about them seemed full of noises; it might have been London.

“Is he so very ill?” the girl asked finally.

“Very ill,” said Reggie. Vera saw that he would not see how white Daphne was, nor how stricken, she had her voice in such perfect control.

“My dear child,” she exclaimed, “are you going to faint? Shall I ring for some brandy?” Daphne got up.

“You have a trap here?” she asked Reggie. “I saw it at the door.”

“Are you going?” Vera asked her. “I am sure it is not really necessary.”

“I am going,” said Daphne, with a sudden flash of anger, “whether it is necessary or not.” Vera looked at Reggie, and had the pleasure of seeing him wince.

“I am quite at your services, Miss Fordington,” he said drily. They left the room in silence. As the cart drove off, she gave a sigh of perfect satisfaction. There are a good many rewards that virtue does not give. Vera felt as if she had them all, and virtue into the bargain. She had always been very good to Daphne, on her twenty-first birthday she had sent her a pearl necklace.