CHAPTER XXI

LORD KENMORE

THE spring ran its course, and the beautiful days of early summer began, and Marjorie sometimes felt as if she had lived at Grantley Castle all her life. It was a most restful time for her after the hard work of the year before, and she felt that she had much for which to be thankful. Lady Violet was still obliged to lie still, although her health and spirits were daily returning, and she was far less easily tired than she had been when Marjorie first came.

The house was now full of company, and Lady Earlswood, whose time was much occupied, was the more gratified that Lady Violet was so charmed with her companion, and that the arrangement she had made had thus turned out so satisfactorily. She was always very gracious to Marjorie, and Lady Maude thanked her several times for cheering up "poor dear Vi," as she called her. Lady Maude was full of life and spirits, and was certainly not cut out for a sick room. Her energy knew no bounds; she delighted in golf, motoring, and bicycling, and though she was fond of her sister and very sorry for her, she was of too restless a nature to stay long in the sick room, and was therefore very glad to feel that Marjorie's presence there enabled her to go to her various amusements with a clear conscience.

"Vi likes Miss Douglas," Lady Maude would say to her friends, "they get on wonderfully well together, and she keeps her in a far better temper than I can do."

So Marjorie had very few difficulties to contend with in her new position; even Collins the maid was glad that she had come and was able to relieve her from constant attendance on her young mistress, and from the fretful fault-finding to which she had been obliged to submit before Miss Douglas arrived.

Marjorie was very thankful for all this, and for the letters from home, which were very cheering. Leila was becoming quite strong again, and the money Marjorie was earning, and which she had been able to send home at the end of her first three months at Grantley Castle, had enabled her mother to buy many much-needed things for the household, and had considerably relieved the strain consequent upon the loss of the insurance money.

Marjorie searched the home letters carefully for any mention of Captain Fortescue, as she still called him to herself, but there was no allusion whatever to him. They had evidently heard nothing of him or from him.

Lady Violet did not speak to her again about her fiancé. She knew that she often had letters from him, and she wrote to him in pencil from her couch, but this was in the afternoon after luncheon, when Marjorie had gone out for her daily walk and when Collins was in attendance, and the letter had been carried down to the post-bag before her return.

But one wet day in the beginning of June, when Collins was lying down in her room, with a swollen face, Lady Violet said—

"Marjorie, will you get me my writing-case? I want to write to Lord Kenmore."

That was his name, then—Lord Kenmore. She would have thought that the missing word in the letter was a longer word than that; but she remembered that old Mr. Fortescue's writing was most uncertain and irregular, and he would probably spread out this name more than the rest of his writing, in order to make it clearer and more distinct.

Lord Kenmore. Could she ever think of him by that name? It all seemed so strange, so difficult to understand! But why was she letting these thoughts come into her mind? She had resolved never to think of him in that way again, never to recall that walk from Deepfields to Daisy Bank, or the grasp of his hand when he had said good-bye to her. She had been a foolish girl in the past; she would be a wise one in the future.

Lady Violet Kenmore. What a pretty name it would be! "Thank you for all you have done for me to-day." Of course he was thinking of Lady Violet when he said those words. He knew that she had not been able to accept him because of the loss of his money; but all that time, he had loved her, even though it had appeared hopeless. But now that the letter was found, which might enable him to prove his noble birth, and to find the clue which might lead him to recover his rightful possessions, he would feel that Lady Violet might still be his.

No wonder, then, that he had said so earnestly, "Thank you for all you have done for me to-day." No wonder that he had pressed her hand in gratitude, when she had been the means of bringing him hope. She saw it all now, and she marvelled at her former folly.

But all that was over now, and she took the letter from Lady Violet, when it was finished—the letter to him,—and carried it down to the bag.

"LORD KENMORE,

"Rockcliffe Castle."

That, then, was his address. She saw that, but she saw no more. What right had she to look at the letter to see his address? She would put it in the letter-box at once. It was nothing to her where he lived.

It was about a week after this, that one morning, as Marjorie was going out, Lady Earlswood asked her to go into the village to take five shillings, which she had promised to an old man, living in a cottage near the church, and who had once been a gardener at the Castle. She called at the cottage, had a chat with old Hill, and then went through the lodge gates, and began to climb the long ascent to the Castle.

The beech trees looked very lovely that morning in their pale spring dress, the moss by the side of the road being covered by the pale brown covering of the buds, which had fallen off as the leaves opened. The colouring was perfect, and Marjorie was thoroughly enjoying her walk.

But suddenly, as she turned a corner of the long avenue, far ahead of her, about a hundred yards or more, she saw something which took all the brightness out of her face. She saw Captain Fortescue walking rapidly towards the Castle. Yes, she was sure it was he. She could not see his face of course, but he was the same height, he had the same figure and hair, and he walked in the same erect way. All the feelings which she had been repressing and keeping down for so long rushed back into her heart.

It was hard work to walk steadily on towards the house. She felt dizzy and faint for a few minutes, and turned off the road and sat down upon the gnarled roots of a giant beech tree. But she prayed for strength and courage, and soon walked on again to the Castle. The road was empty now; she could see the great pillars of the portico and the closed door between them; he had evidently gone inside.

Once a wild hope darted across her mind that after all she had jumped to a wrong conclusion. Perhaps Captain Fortescue and Lord Kenmore were after all not the same; and if so, could it be that he had found out where she was, and had come to see whether she was happy at Grantley Castle, just as once before he had come to Daisy Bank?

But this faint hope was dispelled as she went upstairs, for Collins met her as she was going to her room, and said—

"Miss Douglas, perhaps you had better not go to my lady just now. Lord Kenmore has come to see her unexpectedly. His motor broke down just outside the village, and he had to walk the last part of the way."

Marjorie went on into her room, determined to be very busy and to give herself no time to think. She hoped, fervently hoped, that she would not see him. Perhaps he would not be able to stay long, and he would probably go downstairs for luncheon, and then afterwards she would go out in the garden or take a long walk on the hills. Meanwhile she would tidy her drawers, change her dress, and write home.

Marjorie found, however, that the writing was an impossibility; her thoughts would wander to the next room. How well she could picture him sitting in her usual place by Lady Violet's couch! How good he would be to her; how much he would feel for her in her suffering! What a comfort his sympathy and tender care would be to her!

And so more than an hour went by, and then came the sound of a bell, the bell of Lady Violet's sitting-room. This bell rang upstairs in Collins' room, so that her mistress could summon her whenever she required her. She heard Collins come down and go into the next room, and soon afterwards there came a knock at her bedroom door.

"Come in, Collins."

"If you please, Miss Douglas, my lady would like you to go to her."

Marjorie's heart died within her. He was still there, and now she would have to meet him. She wondered whether he knew that she was at Grantley Castle, or would he be surprised to see her there? Probably Lady Violet had told him, and, hearing that he knew her, had sent for her to come and see him.

With a prayer in her heart for help, Marjorie crossed the landing and went into the next room.

"Marjorie," said Lady Violet, "come here; I want to introduce Lord Kenmore to you."

Fearfully, almost tremblingly, Marjorie went forward, but, to her utter astonishment, a perfect stranger stood before her. His face was as unlike that of Captain Fortescue as it was possible for two faces to be. The figure, the build, and the colour of the hair were exactly similar, so that Marjorie was not surprised that, as he walked before her in the drive, she had imagined that he was Captain Fortescue; but the features, the eyes, and, above all, the expression of his face, were totally different.

Lord Kenmore was an exceedingly plain man, with the palest of blue eyes, which seemed wholly devoid of expression, with thin lips, a pallid, unhealthy-looking face, and a most cynical and unpleasant expression. How could she think for a moment that this was Captain Fortescue? He bowed stiffly when Lady Violet introduced him to her companion, and sat down again in the low chair beside the couch.

"Marjorie, I have been telling Lord Kenmore about the kind of paper I print my photos on; he is a photographer too. Would you mind getting those books you looked through the other day?"

Marjorie brought the albums from their place on the shelf, and handed them to Lord Kenmore. She was going to leave the room when Lady Violet called her back.

"Don't run away, Marjorie. Lord Kenmore is going down to lunch in a few minutes, and I shall want you then."

So she took her work-bag from the table, and sat down in the window, busy with a table-centre which she was working for her mother. She felt as if a great weight had been lifted off her heart; she had never realized how crushing the weight had been, until she felt the relief she experienced now that it had gone. Captain Fortescue was not Lord Kenmore! It seemed too good to be true, and he had not been thinking of Lady Violet when he said good-bye to her at Daisy Bank.

Meanwhile Lord Kenmore was turning over the photos, commenting on them as he did so. He was opening the Riviera book now.

"These are pretty!" she heard him say.

"Yes; we had a lovely time there two years ago."

"Hullo! Who's this?"

He had come to the very photo which had made Marjorie's face flush as she looked at it.

"Oh, that's a friend of Evelyn; they were at Sandhurst together, and we met him out there."

"I can't think who he reminds me of," said Lord Kenmore; "he's like some one. Dear me, who is it?"

"That is just what Marjorie said when she looked at that photo," said Lady Violet, laughing; "he is just like some friend of hers; he seems to be like a good many people."

"What's his name?"

"Captain Fortescue; perhaps you knew him at Sandhurst."

"No, I was at Woolwich; I can't think whom he reminds me of."

"There's another of him on the next page."

"Yes," he said, turning over the leaves, "he seems to have been fond of being taken with you, Vi."

"Yes, you see we saw a good deal of him there. He is very good-looking, isn't he?"

"Well, yes, I suppose he is. I don't care for that kind of face, though; he looks like a fellow in a cheap music-hall."

Marjorie was not half satisfied with Lady Violet's answer.

"Oh no, he isn't like that at all."

"Why, there he is again! A conceited sort of fellow, I should think."

Was he jealous? Marjorie wondered.

"No, he wasn't at all conceited," Lady Violet replied. "You would have liked him, I'm sure."

"Have you seen him lately?"

"No, not for ages; he has lost all his money, poor fellow, and is as poor as a church mouse. I don't know what has become of him."

Lord Kenmore seemed relieved to hear this, and there followed a long discussion on the relative merits of Ziga and Paget printing-papers, which lasted until the gong summoned Lord Kenmore to the dining-room.

"Will you put these books by, Marjorie?" said Lady Violet. "It was too bad of him to run down poor Captain Fortescue."

Marjorie saw no more of Lord Kenmore, for he had gone when she returned from her afternoon walk. Lady Violet seemed tired and out of spirits, she thought; perhaps she had felt the parting with him, it was only natural that she should; and Marjorie devoted herself to her more than ever that evening, and was determined to do all that she could to cheer her. She had such a light heart herself that it was not a difficult task to be bright and cheerful.