She waited until dinner was over and they were sitting on either side of a pleasant blazing fire, with coffee set out on a small table between them. She helped herself to candied sugar and said:
“Mrs. Ravenna-”
“Yes, my dear? What is it?”
“I remember something-I want to ask you about it- something that happened when I was a child. I remember it quite clearly, just as if I was seeing a picture. You and my mother were in a room together. My mother had on a white dress-the sun shone across it-she had a bunch of carnations here.” Margaret’s hand went up to her breast. “She was standing by the window, and you were sitting at a round table that had books on it. You had a lilac dress. I was about six years old. And I pushed open the door and saw you, and I heard my mother say, ‘It was a marriage by declaration.’ And then she saw me and said, ‘Lesbia-the child!’ ”
Mrs. Ravenna’s face showed the most lively interest.
“Fancy your remembering that old lilac dress of mine! I must say it was a very pretty one, and I always thought it suited me very well. But just think of your remembering it! It’s all I can do to remember dresses I had eighteen years ago.”
“Mrs. Ravenna,” said Margaret, “what did my mother mean?”
“What did she say?”
“She said, ‘It was a marriage by declaration.’ What did she mean?”
Mrs. Ravenna put her head on one side.
“Well, d’you know, Margaret, I’m not so very sure that I’ve any business to tell you.”
“Mrs. Ravenna-if you could!”
Lesbia Ravenna hesitated. The hour, the firelight, the comfortable after-dinner mood, all prompted her to an interesting indiscretion. On the other hand she had held her tongue for eighteen years-yes, but all the people concerned were dead-still, a promise is a promise-well, but there wasn’t any actual promise, and it’s only to Esther’s own daughter.
“Mrs. Ravenna-can’t you tell me?”
“I can. I’m just not very sure whether I ought to. I don’t see that I should be doing any harm, but-” She caught Margaret’s look. “Well, I don’t see why I shouldn’t tell you after all these years, and when they’re all dead-it’s not as if it can hurt anyone now. Of course I don’t know how much you know already.”
“I don’t know anything.”
Mrs. Ravenna shot a quick bird-like glance at her. She did know something, or why had she such an anxious look?
She hadn’t her mother’s bloom-she was far too worn for her age. But what a fine head!
“Well, my dear,” she said, “very few people knew anything. I’ve always wondered how these things can be kept secret-but people manage it somehow. It all happened in Edinburgh. I only knew Edward Standing very slightly myself. He didn’t come to the house, you understand. Old Archie Brandon wouldn’t have had him-he was just a bank clerk. It only shows you never can tell-I see he died a millionaire. But nobody could have dreamed of such a thing then. I met them together once, walking up and down in the twilight, and she asked me not to mention it to her uncle- he was rather a savage old man, and she had to do as she was told.”
Margaret leaned forward; her hands clasped one another tightly; her tragic apprehensive eyes were fixed on Lesbia Ravenna’s face.
“Of course I didn’t know about the marriage at the time-you mustn’t think that. Esther told me about it the following summer. It must have been the day you remember. It’s funny your remembering what she said about marriage by declaration. That’s just what she did say-she told me there had been a marriage by declaration, and then a frightful quarrel. I think he wanted her to come away and tell everyone, and she wouldn’t-she wouldn’t face old Archie. And it came to a really terrible quarrel between them. He was a hot-tempered young man, and he got it into his head she was ashamed of him-ashamed of his position, you know. And he went off in a rage, swearing she should never see him again until he could offer her a position that she wouldn’t have any need to be ashamed of. He sailed for New York in a tramp steamer, and it went down. It was an awful shock of course; but after the first blow I think it was a bit of a relief too. He dominated her a good deal. She wasn’t really what I would call in love with him, and after the first shock wore off, I do think it was a relief. And then-oh, my dear, you can guess what a terrible thing it was when she found she was going to have a child. Of course the marriage ought to have been given out at once- I’ve always said so-I said so to Esther the very first minute she told me about it, but then, of course, it was too late. They should have given it out at once-told the whole story from beginning to end. People would have been sorry for her then. But, as I say, by the time Esther told me, it was too late to do anything. The baby was born, somewhere over in France, I believe, and put out to nurse. Don’t ask me how people contrive these things-they do; and I’m sure I’ve often wondered how. The whole thing was a senseless piece of mismanagement. She was frightened to death of her uncle, and that was the beginning and the end of it. Well, about a year later she got married. I don’t know how much she told him, or whether she told him anything. She married him, and two years later Edward Standing came back. Frightful-wasn’t it? Esther told me about it. It was just before I went out to the States to be married. I thought it all very shocking. But Edward Standing had his own violent temper to blame for it. He’d let her think him dead on purpose-wanted to come back with a flourish or never come back at all; and I suppose, like most men, he thought everything was going to stand still whilst he was away. Well, he came back, and he found her married to someone else. There must have been a very dreadful scene. It ended in his giving her up. He cared for her much more deeply and truly than anyone had given him credit for. He went away, and I believe he took the little girl. She didn’t live very long.”
Margaret spoke with dry lips:
“She’s alive now.”
“Oh no, my dear.”
“She is.”
Mrs. Ravenna stared.
“Alive? My dear, she died-oh, quite sixteen years ago. Poor Margaret!”
“Mrs. Ravenna, please-who are you speaking of?”
“Of Margaret.”
“What Margaret?”
“My dear, who could I be speaking of? Your mother’s sister, Margaret Brandon. She married Herbert Faring. I suppose you hardly remember her?”
Margaret put out her hand. It was a purely instinctive movement. Everything was slipping. Her hand went out into empty air and she slid forward in a dead faint.
Ten minutes later Mrs. Ravenna was still petting her, fussing over her, and accusing herself of stupidity.
“My dear, of course I never dreamt. It was too bad. But I had her so much in my mind, and of course to you she was only a name.”
“Not even that,” said Margaret. “I suppose I knew that my mother had a sister-yes, of course I did know that. But my mother never spoke of her-never at all.”
“She didn’t like Herbert Faring. She and Margaret never met except when he was away. And after Margaret died- no, I suppose Esther wouldn’t speak of her-she was like that.”
Margaret lay back amongst the soft cushions that had been piled behind her. It was true. Esther Pelham had lived very fully and sufficiently in the present; every day brought her so much that she had no time for the past. Margaret Brandon had slipped away into the past and been lost there.
After a silence she asked: “Was the marriage legal?”
“The marriage with Edward Standing? Oh yes, my dear- that was the trouble. They had made a declaration in writing, and he had it. If he had chosen, he could have upset the marriage with Herbert Faring and made a most frightful scandal. In the end he gave her the paper and promised never to make any claim.”
Margaret sat up.
“Nobody seems to have thought of the child,” she said.