Lady Brent

“ Lady Meyfield was endeavouring to recall where she could have met her caller.
"I felt it was time the families met," announced Miss Brent.
Lady Meyfield smiled, that gentle reluctant smile so characteristic of her. She was puzzled; but too well-bred to show it.
"Won't you have some tea?" She looked about her, then fixing her eyes upon a dark man in khaki, with smouldering eyes, called to him, introduced him, and had just time to say:
"Godfrey, see that Miss Brent has some tea," when a rush of callers swept Miss Brent and Captain Godfrey Elton further into the room. ”

“ Miss Brent had made up her mind upon two points. One that she would call upon Lady Meyfield, the other that Patricia's engagement must be announced. Debrett told her all she wanted to know about the Bowens, and she strongly disapproved of what she termed "hole-in-the-corner engagements." The marriage of a Brent to a Bowen was to her an alliance, carrying with it certain social responsibilities, consequently Society must be advised of what was impending. Romance was a by-product that did not concern either Miss Brent or Society. ”

“ He is very anxious to meet you," continued Lady Tanagra as they moved towards the door. "I would not let him come here as I thought, from that Patricia has told me, that you would not care—to——" She paused.
"You are quite right, Lady Tanagra," said Miss Brent with decision. "I do not like boarding-houses. They are not the places for the discussion of family affairs."
Patricia descended the steps of Galvin House, not quite sure whether this were reality or a dream. She watched Miss Brent seat herself beside Lady Tanagra, whilst she herself entered the tonneau of the car. ”

“ The parted lips set in a firm but mobile line. What had before been a tribute now became in her eyes an insult. Men sent chocolates and flowers to—to "those women"! If he respected her he would have done as she commanded him, instead of which he had sent her presents. Oh! it was intolerable.
"If I sent flowers and chocolates to a lady friend," said Mr. Bolton, "I should expect her to look happier than you do, Miss Brent."
With an effort Patricia gathered herself together and with a forced smile replied, "Ah! Mr. Bolton, but you are different," which seemed to please Mr. Bolton mightily. ”

“ It was hard luck, she told herself.
"Would you mind telling me what you propose doing?" enquired Patricia.
"I promised Peter to gather up the pieces," was the response. "All you've got to do is to remain quiet."
Lady Tanagra brought the car up in front of Galvin House with a magnificent sweep. Gustave, who had been on the watch, swung open the door in his most impressive manner.
As Patricia and Lady Tanagra entered the lounge, Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe were addressing pleasantries to a particularly grim Miss Brent. ”

“ He was right. Lady Tanagra was indeed a solution. Patricia and Miss Brent were merely lay-figures. It must be wonderful to be able to make people do what you wished, she mused. She wondered what would have happened had Bowen possessed his sister's powers.
At the Quadrant Peel was waiting in the vestibule. With a bow that impressed Miss Brent, he conducted them to Bowen's suite. As they entered Bowen sprang up from a writing-table. Patricia noticed that there was no smell of tobacco smoke. The Bowens were a wonderful family, she decided, remembering her aunt's prejudices. ”

“ Wouldn't we, Goddy?"
"You are getting a little confused, Peggy," said Elton. "This is not a fancy dress——"
"Stop him, someone!" cried the brunette, "he's going to say something naughty."
Elton smiled, Miss Brent continued to stare, whilst Uncle with a grin of admiration cried:
"Lor', don't she run on!"
"Now come along, Uncle!" cried the girl. "I've found some topping chocolates, a new kind. They're priceless," and she dragged Uncle off to the end of the table.
"Who was that?" demanded Miss Brent of Elton, disapproval in her look and tone.
"Lady Peggy Bristowe," replied Elton. ”

“ The sun shall not print cheap insertion kisses upon Patricia Brent."
"You're quite sure that it is a holiday," Lady Tanagra looked up quizzically at Patricia as she stood gazing out of the window.
"A holiday!" repeated Patricia, looking round.
"It sounded just a little depressing," said Lady Tanagra.
"It will be exactly what it sounds," Patricia retorted; "only depressing is not quite the right word, it's too polite. You don't know what it is to be lonely, Tanagra, and live at Galvin House, and try to haul or push a politician into a rising posture. ”

“ This belief in the guilt of the maimed officer took such emphasis of accusation as to enforce from his friends a proof that he was, on the day of the murder, far away in a Virginia city, engaged, among other things, in writing his name in a lady’s album. One evening, after the Sunday’s discovery,—it might have been ten days,—as I was riding up the hill that led to Mr. Motley’s mansion gateway, and when I had reached the summit, I came upon a young man standing a little off the main road. ”

“ All summer long, his matrimonial incongruities, to use no stronger term for the domestic ecclesiastical situation, had furnished talk for half the tea tables in town. Moreover, it was only when a man was present that any woman lifted up her voice in Katharine's defence. Left to themselves, they knew perfectly well that all the scholarly stoops and resonant voices and luminous gray eyes in all creation were not responsible for their universal sympathy for Brenton. The woman was a toad, a selfish and ambitious toad, hopping, hopping, hopping up across the surface of the human pyramid before her. ”

“ Like most men between two women, he only made the matter infinitely worse. There was a discussion; then there were words. Then Brenton lost his temper and departed on his heels, leaving his wife, the nurse, and the fretful baby wailing aloud in a discordant trio. As a natural result, Katharine forgot the needs of the child and sought the healing contact of the All-Mind upon her own account, while the nurse, drying her tears in haste, seized the child in one arm, the opportunity in the other, and administered the simple remedies she always kept on hand. ”

“ With women she was more popular. If anyone were ill at Galvin House, it was always Patricia Brent who ministered to them, sat and read to them, and cheered them through convalescence back to health.
Her acquaintance with men had been almost entirely limited to those she had found in the various boarding-houses, glorified in the name of residential hotels, at which she had stayed. Five years previously, on the death of her father, a lawyer in a small country town, she had come to London and obtained a post as secretary to a blossoming politician. ”

“ I've been missing my niggers!—and was going to tell Jane about it!"
"Don't," Brent said seriously, "I want—I just had [Pg 210] an idea, that maybe it would be nice to finish up for—well, about the time of her birthday this summer. So, if you've noticed any especial activity, you'll have to respect my confidence."
"Why, sir, I call that handsome, sir!" he cried. "Ladies might not object to birthdays if cavaliers laid railroads at their feet! Tell me more!"
"Well," Brent flushed, "the line is short and surprisingly simple: distance from Buckville to the coal, sixteen miles. ”

“ Bonsor smiled sympathetically.
At lunch-time Patricia purchased a copy of The Morning Post, and there saw in all its unblushing mendacity the announcement.
"A marriage has been arranged and will shortly take place between Lord Peter Bowen, D.S.O., m.c., attached to the General Staff, son of the 7th Marquess of Meyfield, and Patricia Brent, daughter of the late John Brent, of Little Milstead."
"Why on earth must the ridiculous people put it at the top of the column?" she muttered aloud. A man occupying an adjoining table at the place where she was lunching turned and looked at her. ”

“ Yes, you have. She was just in front of us, the woman in the pinky-yellow feather and the pompadour. You must remember her; she was casting sheep's-eyes at Mr. Brenton, all the time he was preaching. That was the way I found out who she was. My curiosity led me to ask Dolph Dennison about her, and I was quite upset when Dolph tweaked my elbow and made signals of distress at poor Mr. Brenton who was standing near us. If he is as thin-skinned as he looks, poor man, it must be rather hard to go into a new parish and watch the people getting accustomed to his wife. ”

“ Brent murmured.
"Condemn! Why, sir, I admire him for it! I was early taught to love the truth and shame the devil!"
Brent laughed softly. He got a great deal of fun out of ragging the old gentleman a bit at times.
"If shaming the devil were all," he said; "but think of your neighbors!"
"I think of no one, sir!" The Colonel was fuming now, and glaring impartially at everything about him.
"Then I wonder you've got a friend left. But, all joking aside, I wouldn't take anything for Dale, and have really grown to like him a whole lot. If he could just get over giving me the creeps! ”

“ He looked up in surprise: "The world wouldn't talk if we were married!"
"Don't you believe it, Brent," she said quietly. "The world 'd talk if you married a girl like me, moh'n it would if you didn't. I've been awake for seven days, Brent, an' I ain't a girl no moh in some ways. An' Brent," her cheeks were flaming now, "I might give you anythin' if we honest loved, an' not be ashamed;—but as we don't, a thousand marriages couldn't keep me from shrivelin' up whenever you looked at me! We'd despise each other in no time," she added, with another forced laugh. ”

“ Beside the village parson, there had been three young clergymen in attendance and more or less in active service while the nuptial knot was being tied. Indeed, so many were there of them and so active were they in their ministrations that poor Mrs. Brenton, down in the front pew and painfully shiny between her proud maternal tears and the reflected lustre of her new black satin frock, was never quite certain in her mind which one of them, in the end, had pronounced her son and Catia man and wife. For the sake of the ancestral Wheelers, she hoped it was the broadcloth-coated village parson ”

“ XI Brent went back to his hotel, to find the town clerk of Hathelsborough waiting for him in his private sitting room. His visitor, a sharp-eyed man whose profession was suggested in every look and movement, greeted him with a suavity of manner which set Brent on his guard.
“I am here, Mr. Brent,” said he, with an almost deprecating smile, “as—well, as a sort of informal deputation—very informal indeed.”
“Deputations represent somebody or something,” retorted Brent, in his brusquest fashion. “Whom do you represent?” ”

“ His mother had impressed upon him that Catie would be the best wife possible for him. The professors in the divinity school had laid some stress upon the advantage of their clergy's marrying young. Therefore Scott Brenton dutifully took to himself a wife, without the slightest previous notion of what domestic intercourse was bound to mean.
Notwithstanding the education given him by Reed Opdyke and his pseudo sirens, young Scott Brenton was singularly ignorant of the elements that go into the making of almost any woman, singularly ignorant regarding all the practical details of wedded life. ”

“ From the first morning of his reading service at Saint Peter's, Brenton had been aware that he was opening a fresh chapter of his life. In the old hillside parish, there had been things to do and souls to save. Here, it seemed to him that all the souls had been saved prenatally. As for the things to do, these people were too critical, too self-reliant to take kindly to the intimate sort of ministrations in which, of old, he had delighted. For the future, it would be the quality of his sermons that counted most, rather than his personal contact with his people. ”

“ London has done you no good. What would your poor dear father have said?"
"I'm sorry, Aunt Adelaide; but please remember I've had a very tiring week, trying to leaven an unleavenable politician. Shall we drop the subject of Colonel Bowen for the time being?"
"Certainly not," snapped Miss Brent. "It is my duty as your sole surviving relative," how Patricia deplored that word "surviving," why had her Aunt Adelaide survived? "As your sole surviving relative," repeated Miss Brent, "it is my duty to look after your welfare." ”

“ It was morally and socially impossible to be heaping all the blame, even of a mental crisis, on the wife. She, as a woman, owed the other woman more sufferance than that. And Brenton was disappointingly weak. No strong man would have fallen down in such a muddle, by reason of a tempest in his spiritual teapot. Besides, if he had steadied to his strain, he might perhaps have held his wife also steady, might even have prevented her allegiance to her new creed. Olive's innate sense of justice demanded division of the blame. ”

“ And Brenton did stand by, all evening long and all the night. The nurse was with him, watching. Katharine, furious beneath her scientific calm, came and went at intervals; but the doctor's bottle and spoon were in the breast pocket of Brenton's clerical coat, the doctor's written schedule was set down in duplicate on Brenton's cuff. And Brenton, too tired to be really weary, never once left his chair beside the frilly crib.
Later on, he never could remember what were his thoughts, that night. Being human and very wide awake, he must have thought something ”

“ There was nothing in the world that he could do, except to be there and, now and then, to stave off a caller too insistent to be appeased by any bulletin issued by the maid. Among those callers was Prather, the novelist. Priest though he was, Brenton was conscious of a human and athletic wish to wring his neck, so palpably was his expression of fussy sympathy mingled with the professional sense of copy latent in the situation. ”