“Such being the case, I think we might very well look at it,” concluded Cowperwood, at the same time noting with admiration her attractive costume: long skirt and tight jacket of Lincoln green, the jacket trimmed with gold braid and a gold belt. A small green hat, flaunting a single red feather, was perched on the side of her head.
“I’d like to meet Stane,” continued Cowperwood, “and this may be a way to do it. But caution is the word here, Bevy. I understand he is wealthy, and very influential. If we could interest him on our own terms . . .” He paused.
“Just what I’ve been thinking,” she said. “So why not come along with me now to see it? Mother is tired today and is staying home.”
Her manner, as usual, was light, evasive, bantering, the way which most pleased Cowperwood, since it so wholly reflected her natural strength, resourcefulness, and optimism under any and all circumstances.
“The pleasure of chaperoning this costume, apart from anything else, is enough!” said Cowperwood.
“Of course,” continued Berenice, “I’ve explained to everyone that it is only with the consent of my guardian that I can make any decisions. Are you prepared to assume your duties?” she queried, with the sauciest of glances.
He walked over to her and took her in his arms.
“It’s all new to me, of course, but I’ll try.”
“Well, anyway,” said Berenice, “I’m making it easy for you. I’ve consulted a renting agent, and he will meet us at Windsor. After that I thought we might find a nice little old inn for tea.”
“Righto! as we say over here. But first, a word with your mother.” And he hurried into Mrs. Carter’s room.
“Well, Hattie,” he greeted her. “How’s everything? How are you making out in dear old England?”
In contrast with Berenice’s gaiety, her mother looked not only depressed but a little worn. It had all been so swift, this brilliant and colorful descent from her fool’s paradise of social security to this wealth of adventure, which, however lavish its accoutrements, was nevertheless frightening because of lurking danger ahead. This perplexing business of living! True, she had bred a gifted and self-sufficient daughter, but one as headstrong and lawless as herself. And one whose fate, for that reason, could not accurately be predicted. And although Cowperwood had always been and was now content to fortify them with the enormous resources of his mind and his wealth, yet she was fearful. The fact that he had brought them to England at a time when he was so openly courting public favor, and with Aileen in the immediate foreground, puzzled her. According to Berenice, this course was necessary, even if not entirely acceptable.
But this explanation did not entirely convince her. She had lived and lost, and the ghost that was tracking her was the fear that Berenice would also lose. For there was Aileen, and the fickleness of Cowperwood, and the relentless world, sparing no one, forgiving no one. It was something of all this that was in her mood, her eyes, and her relaxed figure. Unknown to Berenice, she had returned to drinking, and, but a moment or two before Cowperwood entered, had drained a large glass of brandy in order to brace herself for this certain encounter.
In answer to his greeting, she said: “Oh, I like England very much. Bevy is fascinated by everything here. I suppose you’re going out to look at those cottages. It’s just a question of the number of people you expect to entertain, or, rather, whom not to entertain, with you two together.”
“I think you’re speaking for Bevy, not me. She seems to be the magnet. But you look a little down, Hattie. What’s the matter?” He eyed her questioningly, but not unsympathetically. “Come, come, don’t let these first days get on your nerves! I know it’s all a little difficult. You’ve had a trying trip, and you’re tired.” He crossed over to her and laid a friendly hand on her shoulder, but in doing so caught the odor of brandy. “Listen, Hattie,” he said, “you and I have known each other for a long time. You know that although I’ve always been infatuated with Bevy, I never indulged in so much as a single gesture that could compromise her in any way, before she came to me in Chicago. Is that true, or isn’t it?”
“Yes, Frank, it’s true.”
“You know, my one desire, since I felt I could not have her, was to place her socially, get her married and off your hands before anything could go wrong.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Of course, what happened in Chicago is to be charged to me, but even that not entirely, for she came to me at a time when I was very much in need of her. Otherwise, I think I might have resisted her even then. Anyway, we’re all in this boat together now, to sink or swim. You look on this adventure over here as hopeless. I can see that. I don’t. Remember, Bevy is a very brilliant and resourceful girl. And this is England, not the United States. People over here make way for intelligence and beauty in a way that has never yet been dreamed of at home. If you will only brace up and play your part, everything will be all right.”
Once more he patted her shoulder, looking down into her eyes to note the effect of his words.
“You know I’ll do my best, Frank,” she said.
“Well, there’s one thing you must not do, Hattie, and that’s to take up drinking. You know your weakness. And if Bevy finds it out, it might discourage her and undo everything we are trying to do.”
“Oh, I’ll do anything, Frank, anything, if only I can make up to her for other things I have done!”
“That’s the attitude!” And he smiled an encouraging smile, and left her to join Berenice.
Chapter 27
In the railway carriage Cowperwood discussed with Berenice the fears of her mother. She assured him that they meant nothing, it was merely the sudden change. With a little success here, she would feel better.
“If trouble comes from anywhere, it’s likely to come from visiting Americans, not the English people,” she added thoughtfully, as they passed one charming scene after another, almost unnoted by them for the moment. “And I certainly do not intend to accept introductions to Americans, or invitations from them here in London, or entertain them either, if I can avoid it.”
“You’re right as to that, Bevy. It’s the wisest thing to do.”
“They are the people who terrify Mother. You know, Americans somehow haven’t the manners or courtesy or tolerance of these people over here. I feel at home here.”
“It’s their older culture and diplomacy that you like,” said Cowperwood. “They are less outspoken, slower to jump at conclusions. We Americans have taken an undeveloped continent, and are developing it, or trying to, in a very few years, whereas these people have been working on this little island for a thousand years.”
At Windsor they were met by Mr. Warburton, the renting agent, who had much to say about the property he was going to show. It was really one of the most charming places on the river. Lord Stane had occupied it for years until a few summers ago.
“Since his father’s death,” the agent explained, confidentially, “he has gone mostly to Tregasal, where his main property lies. Last year he let this place to the actress, Miss Constance Hathaway, but this year she is going to Brittany, and it was only a month or two ago that Lord Stane told me I might let it if I found a suitable tenant.”
“Has he much of an estate in Tregasal?” asked Cowperwood.
“One of the largest, sir,” answered the agent. “About five thousand acres. A really beautiful place, although he seldom uses it.”
At that moment a troublesome thought entered Cowperwood’s mind. Insisting to himself that he would never again allow himself to be aroused by jealousy, still the truth was that since Berenice had come into his life, he was beginning to feel the pangs. She was so much of all that he desired. Might she not, under such circumstances as these, prefer a younger, if equally brilliant and resourceful, man? Could he expect to hold her if she were to meet and come to know such a personality as Stane? The thought injected into his relationship with Berenice a tinge of something which previously had not been there.