_ PART III CHAPTER X. THE QUEEN'S PARDON
As soon as Anne entered Baronmead that evening she was aware of a difference. Bertie, with a thunderous countenance, came forward to meet her. She had not seen him wear that look in all the months of Nap's absence.
"The prodigal has returned," he told her briefly. "P'r'aps you know."
She did not pretend to misunderstand him. She had schooled herself to face the situation without shrinking.
"Yes, I know," she said. "I met him at your house an hour ago."
"At my house!" For a single instant Bertie looked downright murderous, and then the sight of Anne's pale face made him restrain himself.
"He didn't stay," she said rather wearily. "What of Luke? Has he seen him?"
"Can't understand Luke," muttered Bertie. "He's actually pleased. Say, Lady Carfax, would it help any if I were to stop and dine?"
"No," Anne said, smiling a little. "Go back to Dot, won't you? She is expecting you."
She saw that he was glad to follow her suggestion, and she was undoubtedly glad to see him go. He was plainly in an explosive mood.
Mrs. Errol came to her room while she was dressing. But Mrs. Errol had had ample time to compose herself. She showed no agitation, and spoke of Nap's unexpected arrival as if she were quite indifferent to his comings and goings; but she hovered about Anne with a protecting motherliness that did not need to express itself in words. When they went downstairs she held Anne's arm very closely.
But the ordeal that both were mutely dreading did not take place that night. Nap did not present himself at the dinner-table, and they dined alone in unspoken relief.
Anne went to Lucas as usual when the meal was over, but she thought he seemed tired and she did not remain with him long.
He kept her hand for a moment when she stooped to bid him good-night.
"Anne," he said gently, "I just want you to know, dear, that Nap will be all right. Don't be anxious any. There is no need."
He desired to reassure her, she saw; and she bent and kissed him. And then for a moment a queer gust of passion possessed her, shook her from head to foot.
"Oh, Luke," she whispered, "can't you send him away again?"
He looked up at her oddly, with eyes that seemed to see beyond her. And then, "Good-night, dear," he said, as if he had not heard.
She turned from him in silence. It was the first time she had ever appealed to Lucas Errol in vain.
She went to her room early that night. She told herself she must leave on the morrow. She was urged by a deep unrest. She could not remain under the same roof with this man who had once so cruelly tortured her. She could not. Lucas must understand this. He must never ask it of her, never--never!
She did not in the least understand the latter's attitude. The more she thought of it, the more it troubled her. She felt as if he had suddenly ceased to be on her side, had, as it were, shut off his sympathy and left her groping and alone. It was not like him to treat her thus. It hurt her subtly, wounding her as she had never expected to be wounded, shaking her faith in what she had ever believed to be immutable. And then she remembered the physical weakness with which he had wrestled so long, and a great pity flooded her heart. She would not let herself be hurt any longer. Was he not reserving his strength for her sake? And could she not, for his, face bravely this sudden obstacle that had arisen in her path? Moreover, had he not told her that all would be well? And he had said it as one who knew. Why, then, was she harbouring this wild dismay?
Why? Why? She asked the question, but she did not seek the answer. She dared not.
And yet in the morning she went down with a calm aspect, resolute and unafraid. Once more she was compelling herself to do simply that which lay nearest to her hand.
Nap came out of a room near the foot of the stairs as she descended. He scarcely looked at her, but quite obviously he had been awaiting her coming.
"May I have two words with you before you join the mater?" he asked.
With her whole soul she wanted to refuse. Yet without visible hesitation she yielded. She turned aside into the room he had just quitted.
He followed, and, closing the door, came forward to the table. It was littered with guns and cleaning apparatus. He had evidently been employing himself while he waited, and he at once took up an oily rag and resumed operations, his swarthy face bent over his task, his lips very firmly compressed.
Anne waited for a moment or two. His attitude puzzled her. She had become so accustomed to the fierce directness of his stare that its absence disconcerted her.
"What is it you wish to say to me?" she asked at length.
At the first sound of her voice he ceased to work, but still he did not raise his eyes.
"On my own account--nothing," he said, speaking very deliberately. "But as my sojourn here may be an offence to you, I think it advisable to explain at the outset that I am not a free agent. My brother has decreed it, and as you know"--a hint of irony crept into his voice--"his will is my law."
"I understand," said Anne gravely, but even as she spoke she was asking herself what possible motive had prompted this explanation.
He jerked up his head and she caught the glint of his fiery eyes for an instant. "You--care for Lucas, Lady Carfax?" he said.
Her heart gave a sudden throb that hurt her intolerably. For a moment she could not speak.
Then, "Yes," she said. "I love him."
Nap was pulling mechanically at the rag he held. It began to tear between his hands. She watched him ripping it to shreds.
Suddenly he seemed to realise what he was doing, and tossed it from him. He looked her straight in the eyes.
"Have you fixed the date for your coronation?" he asked.
Her eyes fell instantly. "Will you tell me what you mean?" she said.
"Is my meaning obscure?"
She compelled herself to answer him steadily. "If you mean our marriage, it will not take place for some time, possibly not this year."
"Why not?" said Nap. "Are you a slave to etiquette?"
The thing sounded preposterous on his lips. She faintly smiled. "The decision does not lie with me."
"Ah!" he said shrewdly. "The privilege of kings! You will still be a queen before you are thirty. And your first act will be to expel the court jester--if he waits to be expelled."
She saw his grim smile for an instant, and knew that he was playing his old fencing game with her, but at the same time she knew that there was no antagonism behind his point. How the knowledge came to her she could not have said, but she realised afterwards that it was at that moment that she began to perceive that the devil had gone out of Nap Errol. The conviction was slow in growing, but it was then that it first took root; it was then that her fear of the man began to die away.
She raised her eyes. "Why should I do that, Nap?"
He made her a deep bow. "Because I have been unfortunate enough to incur your displeasure."
There was a moment of silence, then, in obedience to that instinct to which in rare moments she yielded herself and which never played her false, Anne held out her hand to him. "I forgive you," she said.
He started. He evidently had not expected that from her. Perhaps he had not wanted it. Later she wondered. But he showed no awkwardness of indecision. Only once had she ever seen him at a loss, and of that once she would never voluntarily think again.
He took her hand upon his sleeve and bent over it. She thought he was going to kiss it, and a sharp dread went through her. But he only touched it for a single instant with his forehead.
"For Luke's sake?" he said, not looking at her.
"For your own," she made answer, almost as if she could not help herself.
"Because?" he questioned.
"Because I know you love him," she said. "Because I know that you will be loyal to him."
"Though I may be false to you?" he said.
She bent her head. "I am only a woman. I am afraid your experience of women has not taught you to respect them."
He picked up the gun again and fell to work upon it. "My experience of one woman at least," he said, "has taught me--something different, something I am not likely to forget."
It was the end of the interview. In silence Anne turned to go. He wheeled round and opened the door for her, but he did not look at her again, nor she at him. When the door closed between them she felt as if a great silence had fallen in her life. _