Love and Lucy
mutinous against her lot. She wondered, of course, what was to become
of them, how long she could hold him at arms' length, how she could
bring herself to unsay what had been said in the dark of Martley
Thicket. But she had boundless faith in Urquhart, and knew, among
other things, that any request she made him would be made easy for
her.
But when, at the end of June, he broached to her his great scheme, she
was brought face to face with the situation, and had to ask herself,
could she be trusted? That he could she knew very well.
He had a project for a month or six weeks in Norway. He had hinted at
it when she was at Martley, but now it was broached. He didn't
disguise it that his interest lay wholly in her coming. He laid it
before her: she, Lancelot and James were to be the nucleus. He should
ask the Corbets and their boys, Vera and hers. Nugent would refuse, he
knew. Meantime, what did she say? He watched her shining eyes
perpending, saw the gleam of anticipated delight. What a plan! But
then she looked down, hesitating. Something must now be said.
"Oh, of course Lancelot would go mad with joy, and I dare say I could
persuade James--"
"Well? But you?"
"I should live every moment of the time, but--sometimes life seems to
cost too much."
He held out his hand to her, and she took it very simply. "Promise to
come, and you shan't repent it. Mind, you have my word on that." Then
he let her go, and they discussed ways and means. She would speak to
James; then he should come and dine, and talk it out. Meantime, let
him make sure of Vera, and do his best with the Corbets. If they were
fixed up, as she thought probable, he might get some other people.
Considine might like it. "He's very much at your disposal, let me tell
you. You have him at your feet."
So it was settled, and James was attacked in front. She told him as
they were driving out to dinner that she had met Mr. Urquhart that
afternoon. "I dare say you might," said James. But he had stiffened to
attention.
"He blazed upon me a plan for August. I said I would ask you about
it."
James said, "H'm. Does it rest with me?"
"Naturally it does. I should not think of any plans without talking to
you."
"No, I suppose you wouldn't," said he. Then he asked, "And what does
Urquhart want you to do?"
"He doesn't want me, particularly. He wants all three of us."
"I think," said James, "you'll find that he wants you most."
She felt that this must be fathomed. "And if he did," she said,
"should you object to that?" He kept very dry.
"It isn't a case of objecting to that, or this. The question before me
at present is whether I want to form one of a party which doesn't want
me, and where I might be in the way."
"From what I know of Mr. Urquhart," she answered, "I don't think he
would ever ask a person he didn't want."
"He might, if he couldn't get the person he did want in any other
way," said James. "Who else is to come?"
"Vera Nugent and her boy, and perhaps Lord Considine. He is going to
ask Laurence and Mabel and all the boys too."
"It will be a kind of school-treat," said James. "I own it doesn't
sound very exciting. Where are we to go to?"
"To Norway. He knows of a house on the Hardanger Fiord, a house in a
wood. He wants to hire a steamer to take us up from Bergen, and means
to bring a motor-boat with him. There will be fishing of sorts if you
want it."
"I don't," said James; then held up his chin. "Is my tie straight?"
She looked. "Perfectly. What am I to say to Mr. Urquhart?"
He said, "I'll talk about it; we'll discuss it in all its bearings. I
don't think I'm so attracted as you are, but then--"
"It's very evident you aren't," Lucy said, and no more. She felt in a
prickly heat, and thought that she had never wanted anything so much
in her life as this which was about to be denied her. She dared not
write to Lancelot about it; but to Urquhart she confessed her despair
and hinted at her longing. He replied at once, "Ask me to dinner.
I'll tackle him. Vera and child will come; not Considine. The Corbets
can't--going to Scotland, yachting. We needn't have another woman, but
Vera will be cross if there is no other man. Up to you to find one."
This again she carried to James, who said, "Let him come--any free
night. Tell me which you settle, will you?"
James had been thinking it out. He knew he would have to go, and was
prepared with what he called a spoke for Jimmy's wheel. Incidentally
it would be a nasty one for Lucy, and none the worse for that. He
considered that she was getting out of hand, and that Urquhart might
be a nuisance because such a spiny customer to tackle. But he had a
little plan, and chuckled over it a good deal when he was by himself.
He was, as usual, excessively urbane to Urquhart when they met, and
himself opened the topic of the Norwegian jaunt. Urquhart took up the
ball. "I think you might come. Your wife and boy will love it, and
you'll kindle at their joy. 'They for life only, you for life in
them,' to flout the bard. Besides, you are not a fogey, if I'm not. I
believe our ages tally. You shall climb mountains with me, Macartney,
and improve the muscles of your calves. You don't fish, I think. Nor
do I. I thought I should catch your brother-in-law with that bait--but
no. As for mine, he'll spend the month in bed somewhere."
"Is your sister coming?" James asked.
Urquhart nodded. "And her youngster. Osborne boy, and a good sort.
Lancelot and he have met."
"They'll fight," said James, "and Mrs. Nugent and Lucy won't speak."
"Vera would speak, I'm sure," said Lucy, "and as for me, I seldom get
a chance."
"A very true saying," said Urquhart. "I don't believe the Last
Judgment would prevent Vera from talking. Well, Macartney, what says
the Man of the World?"
"If you mean me," said James, "I gather that you all want to go. Lucy
does, but that's of course. Lancelot will, equally of course. But I
have a suggestion to make. Might not the party be a little bigger?"
"It might, and it should," said Urquhart; "in fact, I asked Considine
to join us. He would love it, but he has to make a speech at a
Congress, or read a paper, and he says he can't get out of it. The
Corbets can't come. I'll ask anybody else you like."
James, who was now about to enjoy himself, said, "I leave the ladies
to Lucy and Mrs. Nugent. Their choice would no doubt be mine. But I
certainly think we want another man. Much as you and I esteem each
other, my dear Urquhart, if there's walking to be done--serious
walking, I think we shall be better three than two. I don't at all
agree that three is no company. Where men are concerned I think it
better than two or four. If only to give a knee, or hold the sponge!
And with more than four you become a horde. We want a man now."
"I think so too," Urquhart said. "Well, who's your candidate?"
James meditated, or appeared to meditate. "Well," he said, looking up
and fixing Urquhart with his eyeglass, "what do you say to Francis
Lingen? Lucy likes him, I am used to him, and you will have to be some
day."
Lucy was extremely annoyed. That was evident. She bit her lip, and
crumbled her bread. She said shortly, "Francis couldn't walk to save
his life."
"Let us put it another way," said James, enjoying his little _coup_.
"Let us say that if he did walk, he might save his life."
Urquhart marked the breeze, and sailed into it. "I leave all that to
you. All I know about Lingen is that I have done my best to oblige him
in his private affairs. I confess that I find him mild, not to say
insipid, but I dare say he's the life of a party when he's put to it."
"Oh," said James, not averse from disparaging an old rival, "Oh, poor
chap, he hasn't many party tricks. I'd back him at cat's-cradle, and I
dare say he plays a very fair game at noughts-and-crosses. Besides,
he'll do what he's told, and fetch things for you. You'll find him a
handy and obliging chap to have about."
"Sounds delightful," said Urquhart pleasantly. He turned to Lucy.
"We'll give him Lingen, shall we?"
She said, "By all means. It doesn't matter in the least to me."
So James had his little whack, after all.
CHAPTER XV
JAMES
James, hardly knowing it, was bracing himself for a serious situation.
He had a keen eye for a man, a feeling for style; in his judgment
Urquhart was momentous, so much so that he could not afford to be
irritated. Jealousy to him was a weakness, only pardonable when the
cause was trivial. It had been trivial with poor Lingen. Fishing in
heavy water, a skipjack snaps at your fly, and you jerk him out to
bank with a Devil take you. But the swirling shoulder, the long ridge
across the pool, and the steady strain: you are into a twelve-pounder,
and the Devil is uninvoked.
He asked Jimmy to lunch at his club, and took the candid line about
the Norwegian project. Lucy was desperately tired, he said, so he was
pleased with the scheme. The poor dear girl was run down, the fact
was. "You are very good for her, I believe. You exhilarate her; she
forgets her troubles. She admires audacity--from the bank."
"I'll be as audacious as you please," said Jimmy.
"Oh, you won't take me in," James said. "I'm an old hand. I know my
Urquhart. But Lucy will expect feats of strength. You are a champion."
"D---- your eyes!" said Urquhart to himself.
"The boy is one of your slaves, too. I can't tell you how contented I
am that you approve of him."
"He's all right," said Urquhart, who didn't like all this. James, on
the contrary, liked it awfully. He became a chatterbox.
"He's more than that in his mother's esteem. But Lucy's a wise mother.
She moves with her finger on her lip. And that, mind you, without
coddling. She'll risk him to the hair's-breadth--and never a word. But
she won't risk herself. Not she! Why, she might be wanted! But there
it is. Women can do these things, God knows how! It's men who make a
fuss. Well, well--but I babble."
"My dear man," said Urquhart, "not at all. It's a thing you never do."
Thus encouraged, James plugged onwards. He talked more of himself and
his affairs than he had ever done in his life before; expatiated upon
his growing business, assumed his guest's contentment in his
happiness, invited praise of his Lucy, and was not rebuffed at their
denial. Urquhart, at first amused, ended by being annoyed. He felt as
if James was a busy dwarf engaged in tying him up in lengths of black
cotton. Round and round he went, coil after coil was added; before
luncheon was over he could move neither hand nor foot. It was rather
ludicrous, really; reduced to speechlessness, he sat and stared
blankly at a voluble James, prattling away about things which didn't
matter. He found himself even admiring things about him: the way he
could bite pull-bread, for instance; the relish he had for his food.
But all this chatter! He was too uncomfortable to see that James's
present relish was chiefly for that. The Stilton and biscuits, the
glass of port were but salt to the handling of Jimmy Urquhart; for
James was a good fighter when he had a good man against him.
His parting words were these: "Now I shouldn't be surprised if she
found herself out of conceit with this beano before we start. She's
like that, you know. In such a case it's up to you to do something.
You and Lancelot between you. That's an irresistible pair. I defy a
gentlewoman, and a mother, to lose heart. Come in when you can. Tell
us tales of far Cashmere. Sing us songs of Araby. I won't promise to
join in the chorus--if you have choruses; but I shall revel in my
quiet way. Now don't forget. I count upon you. By-bye."
"D---- your eyes, oh, d---- your eyes!" said Jimmy, shouldering the hill
as he went his way.
Really, he began to lose nerve a little--and for such a sanguine man a