Parlous Times: A Novel of Modern Diplomacy

"Why, he's the chap whose wife chaperoned your little dinner that night at the Hyde Park Club, when Lady Rainsford failed you."

"No, I don't know him. Do you?"

"I – oh, very slightly – I assure you – never exchanged more than half a dozen words with him in my life."

"I thought you seemed pretty well acquainted at Lady Rainsford's tea."

"I" – faltered the young man – "I think you're mistaken."

Stanley smiled quietly, as the nature of the conversation he had overheard came back to his mind – he was getting on.

"I'm afraid," he remarked, "that your friend doesn't attract me. What did you wish to say about him?"

"Only that he's awfully gone on Belle Fitzgerald, means business, and all that – lucky dog – I think he'll win hands down," and Lieutenant Kingsland heaved a sigh.

"But he's married, surely?"

"Oh, yes, I believe he is – but it hasn't been an unqualified success. I understand there's a divorce in the air, and after that – of course – "

"He's treated his wife like a brute!" spluttered Stanley.

"Don't know, I'm sure. He's a jolly good fellow at the club. Any way, he'd put a job with Belle to do the platonic under Mrs. Roberts' protecting roof for a week or two, when what does our hostess do but cut up rusty about his marital infelicities, and refuse to invite him. Rather a sell on the little Fitzgerald, eh?"

"I'll be obliged to you if you'll mention Miss Fitzgerald more respectfully in my presence. She's a lady for whom I have the highest consideration, and who would, I'm sure, if she knew what I know of Colonel Darcy, cut him off from her list of acquaintances immediately. I hope you'll not feel called upon to speak of this more than is necessary," and he rose stiffly and left the room.

Kingsland rolled over on the divan, on which he was sprawled out, and indulged in a fit of hearty laughter.

"Gad! how he rose to the bait!" he roared. "I supposed Darcy was too old a story to tempt anyone with; but the world's after all a very small place." And this, curiously enough, was precisely the reflection which the Secretary made ruefully to himself, as he sought the captivating Belle.

As can be understood in the light of that interview in the smoking-room, the two gentlemen were late in arriving upstairs, and when Stanley did put in an appearance, Miss Fitzgerald required all her courage to dare to claim him as her exclusive property and carry him off to the comparative seclusion of the conservatory, for black care sat heavy on his brow, and her interview promised to be anything but agreeable. However, she was nothing if not courageous, and opened the attack at once, on the ground that the defensive is always the weakest position.

"What an old bear you are to-night, Jimsy. I couldn't get a word out of you at dinner, and now you look as glum as if you'd lost your last friend."

"I've been talking to Lieutenant Kingsland," he said bluntly.

"Dear me, if it always has as bad an effect I must contrive to keep you two apart in the future."

"He's been telling me about your relations with Darcy. Confound it, Belle! – it's too bad of you! Why, he's a beastly cad. I wouldn't have him in my house, and to think that the woman I – well, any woman I respect as much as I do you – should be on intimate terms with a man like that, makes my blood boil. Great Heavens, have some consideration for your friends, if you haven't for yourself! Think of what will be said of you; think – "

"Don't do the heroic, Jimsy, it doesn't become you," she interrupted. "Give me a cigarette, and see if you can't talk this matter over without going all to tatters."

"You smoke too much. I don't approve of ladies smoking. It seems so common."

"Nonsense. It's uncommon not to. I'm dying for a whiff, and one never gets a chance in that crowd of old fogies. Thank you – now what's all this disturbance about Colonel Darcy? I declare, I almost believe you are becoming an old fogy yourself."

"I didn't even know you knew him – Darcy, I mean – I object to him strongly."

"Really, Mr. Stanley, I don't run my acquaintances on the lines of your choosing."

"Of course not; but I may claim the privilege of a friend."

"To make yourself uncommonly disagreeable; I suppose you may – and I was feeling so amiable too – just in the mood for an old-time chat. But it can't be helped. Colonel Darcy's an old friend, and was very kind to me at a time when I needed friends and hadn't many. I don't know what he has done or not done, and I don't care. I learned that he was to be in this neighbourhood shortly on business, and, wishing to make some return for his past kindness, I proposed to my aunt to invite him here, and she, who's a woman after your own heart, refused – because, forsooth, he didn't get on well with his wife – as if his wife mattered to me – I certainly didn't want to invite her."

"I assure you," burst out the Secretary, "that she's a most charming woman, and that her husband has treated her like the cad and brute he is."

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Stanley. I didn't know you were posing as the knight-errant of hysterical wives."

"I'm not; but I can't stand by and see a lovely and innocent woman injured."

"I presume I'm not to defend my friend?" she asked, her small foot tapping the tiled floor in anger.

"You would not wish to do so if you knew his true character."

"I do not wish to prolong this interview, Mr. Stanley. I must remind you that there are limits even to the rights of friendship, and you have overstepped them."

"I fear I've forgotten myself, that I've been too vehement. I humbly beg your pardon. I won't trespass again, believe me. I only spoke for your good – indeed, I wanted to have a serious talk with you about yourself; but the spirit in which you receive my suggestions makes it impossible."

"You mustn't say that," she replied, more quietly than she had hitherto spoken. "But you can surely understand that my friendship would be of little use to any man if I stood quietly by and let him be denounced without a word of resentment on my part. Are there other of my friends of whom you do not approve?"

"It's partly that, but rather the – you'll pardon me – the things that are said about you, Belle. People – my friends – men as well as women – have said things in my presence – that I did not like to hear. Things that show how easy it is for a careless, easy-going nature like yours to be misinterpreted; in short – "

"In short, they told you I was fast, I suppose, a sordid, scheming, money-making wretch. Is that correct?"

"Really, Belle!"

"Is that correct? Answer me."

"Well, they certainly wouldn't have used such words in my presence."

"But they meant that – or something like it?"

"I'm afraid they did."

Her face, white enough before, flushed red, as she demanded:

"And you! What did you say?"

"I – I don't remember – I refused to listen; but I made up my mind to speak to you – I thought you ought to know."

"You" – she cried, turning on him in a fury – "you, my friend, as you call yourself, had no answer to make, did nothing, except to decide to lecture me about what you should have known to be a lie! Let me tell you, Mr. Stanley, you'd have done better to defend me – knowing, as you must know, the slights, the buffets, the insults I've had to endure, because I'm unprotected, and men can dare – "

"I assure you I did. I didn't believe it of you for an instant."

"You believed it enough to question me as to the truth of these accusations. It's easy to preach prudence when you've nothing to gain or lose; but were you a woman, thrown on the world and on her own resources, you'd find it a different, a very different, thing, and you'd expect help and encouragement from friends who are stronger and more fortunate than you – not this!" and she burst into tears.

"Miss Fitzgerald! – Belle!" he cried, striving to take her hand, "I wouldn't have pained you in this way for worlds! Believe me, I'm your friend, your true friend!"

"I've friends enough of your sort," she sobbed, "too many."