The Mandarin's Fan
cake-walks. The women were lovely, and the dresses perfect, so the young
men enjoyed themselves not a little. Rupert was present, looking
handsome in his evening dress, but rather flushed and anxious. He was
not sure if Miss Wharf would come, in which case Olivia would not be
present. And, if the old maid did recover sufficiently to make her
appearance, she would perhaps refuse to allow him to dance with the
girl.
However Miss Wharf did appear though at a somewhat late hour. She was
gowned in pale blue and looked very handsome, if somewhat stout.
Olivia's dark beauty revealed itself in a primrose-hued dress, and Miss
Pewsey looked more like a witch than ever in a black frock glittering
with jet. This was the gift of Miss Wharf, as poor Miss Pewsey would
never have been able to indulge in such extravagance. At the back and in
attendance on the Ivy Lodge party, were Clarence Burgh and Dr. Forge. The
buccaneer looked picturesque and dashing as usual and was dressed very
quietly for one of his flamboyant tastes, though he showed to
disadvantage beside the perfection of Rupert's garb. Forge wore a suit
which might have been made for his grandfather, and which fitted his
lank form ill. The doctor looked less his cool self, than was usually
the case. His parchment face was flushed and his melancholy eyes
glittered as they roved round the brilliant room. Rupert wondered if he
was looking for Tung-yu, and glanced round the room himself to see if
the Chinaman had arrived in Chris Walker's company. But he could not
perceive him.
Putting his fortune to the test, and having come to no open rupture with
the lady, Rupert boldly walked up to Miss Wharf and offered his hand.
She gave him rather a peculiar look and coloured a little. But to his
secret satisfaction she received him very kindly. Olivia took her
husband's greeting with a quiet smile, rather cold, as she knew well
Miss Pewsey was watching her face. As to that lady, she hovered round
the group like an ugly old fairy, about to weave the spell.
"And where is the Major?" asked Miss Pewsey in her emphatic way, "surely
he is present on this occasion."
"I am sorry to say that the Major is laid up with a bad cold," said
Rupert. "I have just been to see him. He is not coming."
"A cold spoils his beauty," tittered Miss Pewsey, "dear me, how very
vain that man is."
"A cold has not spoilt Miss Wharf's beauty at all events," said
Ainsleigh, seeing his way to a compliment. "I never saw you look so
well," he added with a bow.
"Thanks to Lavinia's nursing," laughed the lady. "Olivia can you keep
still while that delicious music is playing. I'm sure Mr. Burgh--"
"I think Miss Rayner is engaged to me," put in Rupert promptly.
Miss Wharf tapped him on the shoulder with the very fan, about which
there had been so much talk. "No I can't spare you," she said amiably.
"I want to chat with you. Olivia?"
The girl exchanged a look with her husband and saw that his eyes were
fastened on the fan. Resolved to give him a chance of talking to her
aunt about it, she moved away on the arm of the buccaneer to join in the
whirling throng. Forge offered his arm to Miss Pewsey, not to dance, but
to escort her on to the terrace, and so it came about that aunt Sophia
and Rupert were left alone in a quiet corner of the room.
Miss Wharf cast a side glance at the young man and seeing how handsome
and gay he was, she heaved a sigh. Perhaps she was thinking of his
father whom she had loved dearly, but if so, the emotion was only
momentary, for she compressed her lips and drew herself up stiffly. "Mr.
Ainsleigh," she said, "you never come to see me now. How is that?"
"I thought you did not wish to see me," said Rupert frankly.
"Oh yes I do. Your father was an old friend of mine, and for his sake I
wish to be kind to you."
Rupert saw that she was unaware that he had met Olivia secretly, and had
heard the story of the early romance. It was not wise, he thought, to
bring up the subject, so he met her on her own ground. "You can be very
kind to me if you wish," he said casting a significant glance on Olivia
who floated past with Burgh.
Miss Wharf followed his gaze and frowned, shaking her head. "No," she
said severely, "you must give up the idea of marrying Olivia."
"I can't do that," replied Rupert, thinking of his secret marriage, "and
I don't see why you should refuse to let me love her."
"I can't prevent that," snapped Miss Wharf, "love her as much as you
choose, but as another man's wife," and again she looked oddly at
Rupert, who wondered what she meant.
"What an immoral remark," he said, "perhaps you will explain."
"Mr. Ainsleigh I will be frank with you," said the lady calmly, "you
have no money, and are liable to lose Royabay. I hold a mortgage it is
true and by the end of the year I can foreclose; but that, I shall
not do if you give up Olivia. If I foreclose, you know well enough that
your other creditors will come down on you, and you will lose all. I
hold the scales," added she significantly.
"I see that well enough Miss Wharf, but many things may happen before
the end of the year."
"You mean that you will get the money to pay me and others?"
"I might even mean that," answered Rupert coolly, "and if I am a bad
match, I don't think Mr. Burgh is a better. I have at least a position
and a clean name."
"What do you know about Clarence Burgh?" she asked quickly.
"Nothing, save that he is an adventurer, Miss Wharf. He comes from
nowhere, and swaggers about Marport as if it belonged to him. He has no
recognised position and he is not a gentleman."
"Oh but he is, and I want him to marry Olivia."
"And thus you would condemn Olivia to misery. She loves me--"
"A girl's love," said Miss Wharf coolly, "she'll soon get over that. Mr.
Burgh is Lavinia's nephew, and I have promised Lavinia that Olivia shall
be his wife."
"Why in heaven's name?" asked Rupert angrily, "he has no money."
"Oh yes he has, and may have a chance of getting more. Lavinia has been
a good friend to me for years and years--all my life in fact, Mr.
Ainsleigh. I owe much to her, and I intend to repay her. Her heart is
set on this match and Olivia must marry Clarence."
"Olivia shall not."
"Olivia shall. I set my will against yours Mr. Ainsleigh."
"You'll find my will is stronger," said Rupert coolly.
Miss Wharf gave a short laugh. "Try," she said curtly; then her hard
eyes softened and her cold manner grew warmer. "Don't let us quarrel,"
she said gently. "I wish you well, and would give you anything save
Olivia--"
"Which is the only thing I want."
"How rude of you to call Olivia a 'thing,'" said the woman lightly, "you
may make up your mind that if you marry her, I shall leave my money to
Miss Pewsey."
"Do so. I don't want your money."
"Five hundred a year is not enough," sneered Miss Wharf, "but I may have
more. What do you say to five thousand--"
"Oh," interrupted Rupert coolly, "so Olivia has told you about the
fan--or perhaps Miss Pewsey."
"It was Olivia. I believe Clarence Burgh told her. This fan," Miss Wharf
unfurled the article, "means five thousand pounds--"
"Or a cut throat," said Rupert quickly.
"Pah! how foolish you are, as though such a thing could happen in
England. Were we in China I admit that I should be afraid to keep this
fan; but as it is I am perfectly safe. See here, Mr. Ainsleigh," she
added bending towards him, "if you will give up Olivia I will give you
this fan and you can get the money to pay off your creditors."
"No," said Rupert at once. "I need thirty thousand, not five. And even
if you were to give me the thirty thousand I need, I would not sell
Olivia for that sum."
"Look at the fan first," said Miss Wharf and gave it to him.
Rupert's nerves thrilled as he took the dainty trifle in his hand. So
much had been said about it, so much hung on it, of the meaning of which
he was ignorant, that he could not look at it without feeling the drama
it represented. Balzac's remark about killing a Mandarin in China to
obtain a fortune, occurred to his mind. This fan dainty and fragile,
might cost the life of such a Mandarin. It all depended into whose hands
it fell.
The fan was exactly as the advertisement described. On one side the pale
green sticks were enamelled and smooth; on the other thin slivers of
jade covered the wood, and were inscribed in quaint Chinese characters
in gold. The handle was of gold, and therefrom hung a thick cord of
yellow silk, with four beads and half a bead thereon. Three beads and
the half one were of jade, but the remaining ball was of jasper. What
these might mean Rupert could not understand, but apparently they were
connected with the secret of the fan, whatever that might be. Certainly,
whatever its significance, the secret dealt with the life of Lo-Keong,
with the life of Dr. Forge, and with the life of Miss Wharf, seeing she
now possessed the article. All the time Rupert furled and unfurled the
fan, admiring its beauty, she kept her cold eyes on him. "Think," she
whispered, "five thousand pounds may gain you a few months respite--you
may be able to save the Abbey."
Rupert shook his head. "If I lose Olivia I don't care about keeping
Royabay. It can be sold up and I'll go abroad to the Colonies to work
for my living."
"Without Olivia."
"No. With Olivia. Nothing will buy her from me."
Miss Wharf finding all her arts fail, snatched the fan from him, and bit
her lip. Her eyes flashed, and she seemed on the point of making some
remark, but refrained. "Very good, Mr. Ainsleigh," said she. "I'll see
what I can do with Olivia. You have ruined her."
"What do you mean by that, Miss Wharf."
"You'll find out my friend," she replied clenching the fan fiercely.
"Oh, I am not so blind, or so ignorant as you think me."
Ainsleigh turned crimson. He wondered if by any chance she had heard of
the marriage, and it was on the tip of his tongue to put a leading
question to Miss Wharf, when Chris Walker came up. He was not alone.
With him was a small Chinaman with the impassive face of the Celestial.
Tung-yu--as Rupert guessed he was--wore a gorgeous yellow gown, with a
kind of blue silk blouse over it. His feet were encased in thick Chinese
shoes wonderfully embroidered and his pig-tail was down. Several ladies
cast avaricious looks at these gorgeous vestments, and especially at the
blouse, which was heavy with dragons woven in gold thread. In his thin
yellow hand with long finger-nails, Tung-yu held a small ivory fan, and
he stood impassively before Miss Wharf, not even casting a look at the
fan in her hand, which he was prepared to buy at such a large price.
"This is Mr. Tung-yu," said Chris boyishly. "He wants to meet you, Miss
Wharf. He admires English ladies."
"I fear I can't speak his language, Chris."
"He can speak ours to perfection," said Walker.
Tung-yu bowed politely and spoke in admirably chosen English. "I was at
Cambridge," he said calmly, "and I know of your Western culture. If you
will permit me, madam." He took a seat beside Miss Wharf.
Chris, seeing his friend well established looked around. "Where is Miss
Rayner?" he asked. "Oh there she is--the dance is over."
And so it was. The dancers were streaming out on to the balcony and the
room was almost empty. Burgh, with Olivia on his arm, came towards Miss
Wharf, and Chris hurried forward to ask Miss Rayner for a dance. But
quick as he was, Rupert was quicker. He had seen his wife dance with one
admirer, and was not going to let her dance with another. "Miss Rayner
is engaged to me," he said, and offered his arm with a defiant look at
Burgh, to whom he had not been introduced.
Burgh showed no disposition to let Olivia go, and scowled. But his eye