A Brilliant Woman

Front matter

BY THE HONORABLE M rs.H ENRY C HETWYND. AUTHOR OF "THE MARCH VIOLET," aSARA," "LOVE IN A GERMAN VILLAGE," "A DUTCH COUSIN," ETC, ETC. IN THREE VOLUMES— 11. fonbon 1892 HUTCHINSON AND CO. 25 PATERNOSTER SQUARE PRINTED AT NIMEGUEN (HOLLAND) BY H. C A. THIEME OF NIMEGUEN (HOLLAND AND TALBOT HOUSE, AttUNDEL STREET. LONDON. W.C CONTENTS VOL. IT CHAPTER PAGE I. "CAN YOU GIVE ME NO REASON?" I II. THE LIGHT OF OTHER DAYS '4 in. OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY GENUS 26 TV. MISTAKES 45 V. THE WYNCOTES OF WYNCOTE HUNDRED 58 VI. WHAT WAS THE SECRET? 77 VH. AN ADVENTURE AND A SAFETY SKIRT 91 VIII. "HOW CAN WE SET THINGS RIGHT?" 107 IX. THE DUCHESS PAVS A VISIT 120 X. AN ARRIVAL AND A DISAPPOINTMENT 1 36 XI. A COMING STORM '54 XII. PERPLEXITIES '^9 Xni. THE BLACKNESS OF DESPAIR '83 XIV. ONE LETTER WHICH DID NOT REACH ITS DESTINATION 195 XV. SUSPENSE AND NO ANSWER! 20<> XVI. CHANGE OF PLACE 221 XVII. "I CANNOT SEE HIM ! " 23S XVIII. A FIXED IDEA

Chapter I

" CAN YOU GIVE ME NO REASON ? " Before Mrs. Burlington had left her room Mr. Hor ace Wyncote called to inquire for her. So, it may be added, did other people. Mr. Burlington surveyed the Wyncote card with a feeling of dismay; but no feeling of dismay or otherwise altered the fact. The acquaintance was made, and could not be unmade. The best of us are self-tormentors, and make a good deal of unnecessary misery for ourselves. Poor Cyril Burlington made himself very unhappy about this visit. He was sufficiently acquainted with his wife's character now to know that a direct command would VOL. n. i not answer; and he doubted his influence over her if he exerted it. She would obey his command and resent it, and if he tried another way — she would laugh him to scorn. He had grown to dread her way of laughing at what was generally very real earnest to him.

Some women, he had heard, shed tears on slight provocation. That must be trying to see; but could it be worse than the sort of prolonged hysterical laughter which so plainly said that there existed no sympathy between him and his life's companion? Aunt Anne was of no assistance to him just now, because she took so different a view of the position of things. Never was a man — anxious to act for the best, and thinking of his wife's welfare (not of his own)— more completely at a loss! He ventured to say a few words to his wife the first day she was once more in her sitting-room, and, though lying on the sofa, evidently recovering her usual health " Can you give me no Reason ? " 3 and spirits ; and when he had said them he was not sure what he had gained by them. " The man who picked you up the other day, Mr. Horace Wyncote, called to ask how you were to-day."

" That was kind. Cyril, I wish you would tell me what is wrong? I am sure Mr. Wyncote has done nothing to hurt any one; I never saw any one I thought more winning." " Things are not always easy to explain. I wish you would do one thing to please me. I wish you would not carry this acquaintance further. Let it drop." «Why?" " Because it is unfortunate altogether. " " So I understand you think ; but cannot you give me one single reason ? You expect me to make my acquaintances, to form my friendships, altogether on your lines; to see with your eyes, to be guided by your wishes, to act by your advice blindly, in a way no woman can do. You never give a reason. You expect a slavish submission. Yes, Cyril! you put me — or, rather,you try to put me— in the position of a slave, not in that of a wife!

" " If the reasons are those I cannot give, " he said in a low voice, moved by her reproaches. "That is absurd; you must have some reason. Do you know what you drive me to think, Cyril ? " He looked earnestly at her, and she answered his look. " I sometimes think that a disgraceful secret con nected with some one very near to you has to be concealed at any cost. " She expected to see a look of anger and reproach, but she saw nothing of the kind. He had grown a little paler, all unknowingly. Were her surmises not just? But, though they were so in one sense, it would be misleading her to agree to them as she meant them, and, though it would have smoothed difficulties for him, he could not do this. " Can you give me no Reason ? " 5 "You may surmise or think what you like, I cannot explain. I have asked you to accept my wish as a reasonable woman; if you have no con fidence in me — if you cannot trust me " She was surprised by his taking her inquiry so much to heart.

As he put it, what could she say? She lay silent. So much she conceded, but she was too truthful to give assurances which were untrue; and she revolved it all in her mind. He imagined that he had convinced her, and was pleased that the matter had ended so quietly. As she lay there, the shaded light near her made her features almost invisible, while his were in fuller light. She watched his countenance, and it struck her that he looked careworn and tired. Prompted more by womanly thought than any affection she asked him whether he was well. " You look tired. Have you been busy to-day ? What have you been doing?" " I have had a tiring day. " "Ah, I suppose I must not inquire further?" she said, with a tinge of mockery. ■ It would not interest you — a magistrates' meeting." "Is it at these meetings that people are hanged?" asked his wife.

" Good heavens ! what a question, " he exclaimed. " I suppose you are turning it into ridicule as usual. " " I know they are not hanged there and then, but you settle then if they are to be hanged or not,. do you not? " " No, " he said shortly. " Then what do you do for so many hours, with nothing exciting to talk about ? " He could not bear the light way in which she spoke. It jarred upon him, especially just now, because of a terribly sad story he had been obliged to listen to that day. " I am growing so stupid lying here," she said, " Can you give me no Reason ? " 7 " that if I do not get out soon I shall be almost ready to hang myself." "Rather strong language, is it not?" he said curtly. " You see if I do not use strong language you never listen to me," she said with some asperity. " That is a mistake, " It is no mistake.

When I was talking to you at first you looked bored; then you looked at the fire; then you went into a day-dream. You never listened or cared till I said something startling, something that displeased you." " I am sorry, " he said gravely, realising that she was tired of her invalid life, and a little remorseful because so much truth lay in her accusation. " It does not matter, " she added, after a pause, during which she half expected and half hoped that he would say a few words showing some interest in her recovery — a wish at any rate to see her down stairs again. But Cyril said nothing, and Maria, who had been making many resolutions, and who was conscious of shortcomings in the past, felt chilled by his silence. Even in strong health she missed the affectionate flatteries of her aunt, the adulation of her girl friends, the companionship and life of a large party.

In sickness she missed them all still more. Now she had been lying on her couch, and feeling unusually low, and very sorry for herself, and a dread had seized her that her life might be all as completely empty of those things she cared for. She saw a long vista of years stretching out into an intermin able length, and Cyril cold, critical, unsympathetic. She shivered a little. Her husband was good. Of course he was good; but if he was in love with her, passionately in love, why had he always judged her, and judged her severely? For this, her instinct told her, was the case. " Cyril, " she said suddenly, so suddenly as to make him start, "may I ask you a question?" " Can you give me no Reason ? " 9 ° Certainly. " "I often wonder and I want to know, Why did you marry me?" Cyril looked at her in blank amazement.

What was he to say? He had never professed violent love for her, and he had no idea how violent his love had been represented to her. " I suppose that I hoped, as you did, to lead a happy life together." " That is no answer. People in love do not hope ; they feel quite sure. Were you very much in love with me ? " " I — I suppose so. " The unfortunate man was fairly driven into a corner. What had taken hold of her imagination now, and possessed her to put these questions? " I sometimes think that people lied to me. Cyril, I was told " Then a swift remembrance came to her. The affection he had been credited with had hardly weighed with her. What did weigh was the wish to conquer one she was told could not be conquered. He might admire her, he might be desperately in love ; but marry her — never !

He was not a marrying man. He was quite out of her reach ; and she had determined to win him, and she had triumphed. What had resulted from such a triumph? He watched her curiously, wondering what agitated her. " I think I have been here long enough, " he said, rising and patting her head in a way that made her feel like a chidden child, and yet he meant it kindly. " You are talking too much and exciting yourself. " His firm steps died away down the long passage, and Maria covered her face in her hands. Hot, scalding tears came to her unaccustomed eyes. "All my life, and I am so young!" she whispered to herself, full of intense self-pity. Cyril was glad that Aunt Anne was coming to dine, and keep him company. Nothing puzzled him more " Can you give me no Reason ? " 11 than the variable moods of his wife.

Of course* this last conversation was the outcome of her fall and her bruises, her sprained shoulder, and all the rest of the trouble of that accident. But the question put to him had gone to his heart, and a misgiving crossed his mind. She had said "people lied to me." Had they lied to him also, and to what end? He had been assured that she loved him — was it also a lie? Since their marriage she had never shown any affection. She was generally pleasant, sometimes particularly gay — fitful latterly, but he had been glad that her affection for him was not of a demonstrative kind. He would have felt that he had done her a great wrong if it had been so; and if she gave more than he could give in return. All the same, no man likes having been in any way coerced, and if her love was not very great he had been dealt with unfairly.

What thought had stopped her when she had begun that sentence, and who had lied to her? At any rate, just now, when the doctor had feared that her injuries were serious, he could say no more to her. She was recovering, but she was not herself. And when she was quite well— What use was there in going back to preliminaries? They were to be together as long as they lived. He was too old for romance. He had outlived all those vague dreams and hopes and wishes. They would jog on harmoniously in time, and he would be patient, and not expect too much. Cyril Burlington entirely forgot that at his wife's age romance was not dead; and, indeed, when does it die? Are there not instances of real pure love and unbounded devotion at all ages and in all circumstances. Sometimes we see it outlive the daily cares and anxieties of married life, and throwing a lovely light over old age — outliving, indeed, the loss of personal beauty and attractiveness, and everything a shallow world imagines necessary to maintain it.

" Can you give me no Reason ? 13 But Cyril Burlington knew really nothing of it. He had gone his own way all his life very calmly and quietly, and had been accustomed to gaze with some astonishment at the evidence of passion and deep affection in others. Indeed he was conscious of feeling a little superior to those swimming in a turbulent stream, and to acknowledge with some gratitude that he was really very much better off than they were. Now he was quite as thankful, perhaps, but he did not like the idea of having been told a lie. And once more he asked himself what had been the reason of it? What object had Mrs. Kingson in arranging this marriage, if she had arranged it? And to this enquiry he could bring no satisfac tory answer. He pushed reflections aside, and dressed quickly, for Aunt Anne was coming to dinner, and she must not see that anything was wrong.

Chapter II. The Light Of Other Days

It looked like old times to Mr. Burlington when he and Aunt Anne sat down to dinner, with no brilliant third to divert attention to herself. Like old times, with a difference. Maria was one of the women who most thoroughly understood arranging and ordering a dinner, and, though Mr. Burlington professed to be indifferent about his dinner, he w*as quite alive to the immense improvement his wife had effected in that direction. The proverb about the dinner of herbs does not provide for the careless cooking of those herbs, and where the mistress is indifferent — and some women count it a merit to be indifferent —the cook very naturally takes advantage. While carefully remembering Cyril's especial tastes Miss Burlington had always been quite content to allow Mrs. Butt to propose what she liked to make, and seldom objected to anything.

In the hands of young Mrs. Burlington this was all altered, and Mrs. Butt, who, during the first month, frequently determined to give up her place, ended by thoroughly respecting a mistress who understood what had gone wrong, and where the fault lay. She began to take far more interest in the perfection of her sauces and flavourings when she found that her efforts were appreciated, and to take infinitely more pains, as no mistake was slurred over. Maria's energetic temperament was of use in all the household arrangements, and, as Aunt Anne noted the many small signs of improvement which she was too generous not to admire openly, Cyril agreed with her. All men should care, and almost all do care, for refinement in detail, and as they are helpless when a women really directs household matters, she has to exert the pow*er of two minds, and face difficulties because of the real importance of results.

It would be a great shock to many affectionate wives if they knew the truth, that ill health, bad temper, indigestion, want of sleep, and all else, lie at the door of their ignorance, careless ness, or worse. In answer to Aunt Anne, Cyril said, absently, " I agree with you. Things are somehow better done. The servants take more pains, I suppose." " They know that they have a master mind to deal with, " said Aunt Anne, pleasantly. " Do you know, Cyril, I find something fresh to admire every time I see your wife? She is always the same, and yet each time I find a new virtue. She knows so much about gardening. I fancied that she had lived too much in London to know much about flowers, but she knows really a great deal more than I do. " Cyril assented with a vague murmur. He was conscious of being able to admire a great deal, and to feel ungracious and ungrateful, and yet he missed in his wife and his home life what he had always looked forward to.

There was no real confidence between them, and there can be none without affection. If the outlook was dreary to Maria, it was almost worse for her husband, as he knew much she did not know which pointed to disagreeables in the future. In this chaotic world we often obtain what we do not much care for, and we do not get what we do especially want. If Cyril Burlington had been asked what he most disliked, he would have answered, any scandal ; any stories about his family and his name. Now, how long could he feel sure of keeping clear of this? Oppressed by his thoughts, and feeling that he VOL. 11. 2 was rousing affectionate anxiety in his aunt's mind, he said, suddenly: "I forget if you understand that my candidature is at an end." "Can you explain to a non-political person like myself what reasons you have for not going on with your election ?"

"I am acting on advice. "But whose, my dear Cyril?" "The political friends who have just been here." " And you go entirely by their advice ? You are sure it is disinterested ?" " Positive, " he answered, with a faint smile. " If I stood, if I won, I should be on their side. There is no doubt that their advice is disinterested enough. " "Are you much disappointed, my dear?" " Every man has an ambitious dream occasion ally. But I am convinced that they are right. Aunt Anne," he said, suddenly, "why should I fence with you, or try to conceal the truth from you ? In one way, giving it up is a great relief to me. If I had gone on — if I had stood— the opposition candidates were prepared to carry placards with a ballet-girl. It would have been terrible for her — for us both." "My dear Cyril!" "The day of that meeting she heard some one say something about a dancing girl."

"Good heavens! and then . . ." " She imagined that it referred to her dancing here, and blamed herself. I let her think so. You would have me tell the truth ?" " Not at that moment, perhaps. But oh ! if I could convince you how far, far better it would be if you could bring yourself to tell her the exact truth. I do think it cruel and unfair putting her in a false position. It will lead to many unfore seen complications in the end." " I cannot do it ! I cannot claim her gratitude and pose before her as having been generous. As it is " He stopped, and walked away for a moment. Loyalty to his wife stopped the words upon his tongue. How confess that he had married without affection, and that he had begun to doubt hers! That he had been flattered and misled, and that he had discovered that he had been deluded and even lied to?

He turned round after a few moments, and his countenance betrayed agitation. Miss Bur lington's heart ached for him. She had deemed that his marriage had brought him happiness. Had she been wrong throughout? But before she had time to collect her thoughts her nephew had plunged into an amusing account of a farmer's marriage, a subject in which she was interested, as he was an old tenant. Aiter dinner a message came from Mrs. Burlington that she wanted them both to have coffee in her sitting room with her. They rose and went upstairs. Mr. Burlington was surprised to see the affection ate greeting between his wife and Aunt Anne noting the smiling eyes and lips which had never smiled quite in the same way upon him. " Here I am with a crippled leg and a maimed shoulder. I hope you had a pleasant little dinner," Maria said, affectionately, kissing Aunt Anne, and extending one hand to her husband.

" It is too late to say ' Good morning'. Shall we say ' Good evening ' ? " she continued, looking calmly at Cyril ; " shall I add, have you used somebody's soap, to make it all quite complete ? " In this way she let Aunt Anne know, as she wished to do, that she wanted to make her question her. " Have you not met before ? " asked Aunt Anne, very innocently, in great surprise. "Of course we have; but Cyril was so much occupied in giving me advice and scolding me that he never thought of saying 'Good morning'. I am conventional, and I like the attention, even knowing it to be meaningless." Poor Aunt Anne felt helplessly bewildered, and her answer was a very indefinite murmur. "County business" was all that was heard of that murmur. " I find it very dull lying here, and I am going to ask one or two friends to come and stay with me," said Maria, with a quick glance at her husband's face.

" Are you, my dear? That is a good plan. Your aunt, perhaps, would come." Cyril said nothing. " Oh, I am not thinking of my aunt. She could not come. I mean girl friends of mine. Of course I would far rather have men, but men are at a discount here. One is not supposed to speak to any man under a hundred." " I fancy, as you are laid up with your unfortu nate knee, that men would be a little in the way." Aunt Anne spoke quite seriously. She had thought it an odd thing to say. "I have, you see, a talent for men. I like my girl friends, but — they are not so amusing." Cyril's face betrayed his annoyance at her talking this nonsense to his aunt. Maria was charmed to have provoked him. Any thing was better than indifference. " You need not look quite so murderous, Cyril. There is no chance of my seeing Mr. Wyncote or any other man.

Aunt Anne, do you know Mr. Wyncote? so hand some, so clever, so well-bred. Cyril dislikes him; I cannot imagine why." Poor Aunt Anne got most uncomfortable. She began to see that there was a great deal between husband and wife that was not right, and it made her infinitely sad. But, meek and quiet as she was, and arriving with a certain deliberation at any con clusions, she was yet capable of action if she felt action to be right. " You are not too ill for music? " she said, in a tone half of inquiry, half assertion, and she opened the small piano standing at a little distance and began to play. Aunt Anne's playing was one of her gifts. She had one of those perfectly musical intuitions which one meets with at rare intervals. Sweet, old-fash ioned melodies came softly from her delicate finger tips, airs that reminded the hearer of the perfume of pot-pourri and the world of long ago as we con ceive it to have been.

Brilliant playing would have seemed as much out of keeping with her gentle presence as a fashionable fuzzy toupee; but the lovely old English, Irish, and Scottish airs were given with a pathos which in a world of incessant hurry are seldom heard. Maria, who was a musician, and really loved melody, was moved as she was seldom moved. All her assumption of flippancy, all her little airs and graces, were forgotten; and as each au came sweeping across her senses her emotion found vent in large tears that flowed silently over her face unchecked, and, as she trusted, unobserved. When she had played a good many things Aunt Anne began modulating, telling a sort of story as she went along, and telling it beautifully. Cyril was sitting listening with real delight, and turned to see whether his wife was appreciative or whether, to use her own expression, she was bored.

Once again he was puzzled; once again he thought that he saw tears. But when Miss Burlington had finished and was rising, Maria called out gaily, ■ Now, dear auntie, pray play something cheerful; else I shall dream to-night that I was assisting at my own funeral to the dead march in 'Saul'." Then Cyril felt that he had been mistaken. Of course there had been no tears.

Mr. Burlington did not contemplate with much satisfaction the arrival of the girl friends his wife had spoken of. But he could make no objection. He gave her less and less of his society, and, though many of the county neighbours had called and said that when invited they were willing to come, neither their spontaneous civility nor the response they gave to invitations was very hearty, or, it may be said, very friendly. As before stated, young Mrs. Burling ton liked dazzling people, and did not care to please them. The younger women did not pretend to care for one who almost invariably eclipsed them. Mothers very naturally objected to a young woman who monopolised the attention of all the young men, and whose clothes were of a cut and make that were a marked, a painful, contrast to the very provincial garments worn by their daughters.

A brilliant woman pays directly or indirectly many a penalty; and we all know that the most brilliant light casts the blackest shadow. Therefore Mrs. Burlington passed many days in her own society, and did not find her own society amusing. Only one friend could come. Flora Harring ton had not perhaps been one of her greatest friends during her school Use, and had in those days been much inclined to question the position taken up by Maria Kingson. But a schoolgirl without a father or mother, without a charming place to ask you to in the short holidays, who possessed no more pocket-money than the other girls, was one thing, and a young woman, entirely her own mistress, with a place, a good-natured husband, and many thousands a year, was quite another. Flora, whose people had no " place, " and who was not well off, was enchanted to be invited to the Burlingtons', and went, it may be added, prepared to stay.

Flora was what is called a very lively girl. She was not very pretty, and she was not clever; but she was shrewd, knew how to make the most of herself, and was absolutely without shyness or reserve. In plain English, she was marvellously impudent, and her audacity at times and with certain people was counted as wit. She had quite made up her mind that it would be useful to make a conquest of Mr. Burlington. There was no sort of use in being Mrs. Burlington's friend if the husband did not approve of her. To achieve the subjugation of Mr. Burlington she must wait to see how things stood, and in what way she could best carry out her project. It is only fair to add that the conquest in question was only intended to be platonic and perfectly harmless; but she wanted to be on terms with the Burlingtons likely to lead to a prolonged stay.

Flora, even more than most people, hated small means, visible small economies, indifferent accommodation, and all the pressing evils of a narrow income, as she hated drizzling rain, cold, or anything in the world that was disagreeable. It was delightful to her pleasure-loving nature to be invited to stay " for a good long time," and her harmless ambition was to make her visit very long indeed. Mr. Burlington found her established at his wife's feet when he came in late. She was sitting on a low stool, and her very fluffy head reclining against Mrs. Burlington's knee. She was very large, with an innocent baby face contradicted by a large and very sensual mouth. She looked up at Mr. Burlington with her most innocent expression as Maria introduced her husband. " I am too comfortable to move. Oh, I hope you don't mind," she said with the self-possession of fifty; "and I am so pleased to find a friend unchanged after so many months of the terrible ordeal of matrimony."

" I am glad you find my wife looking well. I myself think her sprained knee and the injury to her shoulder have left traces, and that she looks pale. " " I find her delightfully the same ; her brilliancy undimmed, her personality the same. It is very pleasant. You must have taken very good care of her." Flora spoke this with emphasis. Mr. Burlington looked at her gravely, as at a new species. He was tired and wanted a cup of tea, and regretted having gone to his wife's room for it, when he found the new arrival there. He had forgotten that she was coming that day, and he had also forgotten to order the carriage to fetch her. With compunction he asked his wife whether she had remembered to send it to the station. Flora answered for her in quite an apologetic tone — "Oh, pray don't think that it mattered, but she did remember it.