VIVIETTE
BY
WILLIAM J. LOCKE
1916
VIVIETTE
CHAPTER I
THE BROTHERS
"Dick," said Viviette, "ought to go about in skins like a primitive
man."
Katherine Holroyd looked up from her needlework. She was a gentle,
fair-haired woman of thirty, with demure blue eyes, which regarded the
girl with a mingling of pity, protection, and amusement.
"My dear," she said, "whenever I see a pretty girl fooling about with a
primitive man I always think of a sweet little monkey I once knew, who
used to have great sport with a lyddite shell. Her master kept it on his
table as a paper-weight, and no one knew it was loaded. One day she hit
the shell in the wrong place--and they're still looking for the monkey.
Don't think Dick is the empty shell."
Whereupon she resumed her work, and for a few moments the click of
thimble and needle alone broke the summer stillness. Viviette lay idly
on a long garden chair admiring the fit of a pair of dainty tan shoes,
which she twiddled with graceful twists of the ankles some five feet
from her nose. At Mrs. Holroyd's remark she laughed after the manner of
one quite contented with herself--a low, musical laugh, in harmony with
the blue June sky and the flowering chestnuts and the song of
the thrushes.
"My intentions with regard to Dick are strictly honourable," she
remarked. "We've been engaged for the last eleven years, and I still
have his engagement ring. It cost three-and-sixpence."
"I only want to warn you, dear," said Mrs. Holroyd. "Anyone can see that
Dick is in love with you, and if you don't take care you'll have Austin
falling in love with you too."
Viviette laughed again. "But he has already fallen! I don't think he
knows it yet; but he has. It's great fun being a woman, isn't it, dear?"
"I don't know that I've ever found it so," Katherine replied with a
sigh. She was a widow, and had loved her husband, and her sky was still
tinged with grey.
Viviette, quick to catch the sadness in the voice, made no reply, but
renewed the contemplation of her shoe-tips.
"I'm afraid you're an arrant little coquette," said Katherine
indulgently.
"Lord Banstead says I'm a little devil," she laughed.
If she was in some measure a coquette she may be forgiven. What woman
can have suddenly revealed to her the thrilling sense of her sex's
mastery over men without snatching now and then the fearful joy of
using her power? She was one-and-twenty, her heart still unawakened, and
she had returned to her childhood's home to find men who had danced her
on their knees bending low before her, and proclaiming themselves her
humble vassals. It was intoxicating. She had always looked up to Austin
with awe, as one too remote and holy for girlish irreverence. And now!
No wonder her sex laughed within her.
Until she had gone abroad to finish her education, she had lived in that
old, grey manor-house, that dreamed in the sunshine of the terrace below
which she was sitting, ever since they had brought her thither, an
orphaned child of three. Mrs. Ware, her guardian, was her adopted
mother; the sons, Dick and Austin Ware, her brothers--the engagement,
when she was ten and Dick one-and-twenty, had hardly fluttered the
fraternal relationship. She had left them a merry, kittenish child. She
had returned a woman, slender, full-bosomed, graceful, alluring, with a
maturity of fascination beyond her years. Enemies said she had gipsy
blood in her veins. If so, the infusion must have taken place long, long
ago, for her folks were as proud of their name as the Wares of Ware
House. But, for all that, there was a suggestion of the exotic in the
olive and cream complexion, and the oval face, pointing at the dimpled
chin; something of the woodland in her lithe figure and free gestures;
in her swimming, dark eyes one could imagine something fierce and
untamable lying beneath her laughing idleness. Katherine Holroyd called
her a coquette, Austin whatever the whim of a cultured fancy suggested,
and Lord Banstead a little devil. As for Dick, he called her nothing.
His love was too great; his vocabulary too small.
Lord Banstead was a neighbour who, in the course of three months, had
proposed several times to Viviette.
"I'm not very much to look at," he remarked on the first of these
occasions--he was a weedy, pallid youth of six-and-twenty--"and the
title's not very old, I must admit. Governor only a scientific Johnnie,
Margetson, the celebrated chemist, you know, who discovered some beastly
gas or other and got made a peer--but I can sit with the other old
rotters in the House of Lords, you know, if I want. And I've got enough
to run the show, if you'll keep me from chucking it away as I'm doing.
It'd be a godsend if you'd marry me, I give you my word."
"Before I have anything to do with you," replied Viviette, who had heard
Dick express his opinion of Lord Banstead in forcible terms, "you'll
have to forswear sack, and--and a very big AND--"
Lord Banstead, not being learned in literary allusions, looked
bewildered. Viviette laughed.
"I'll translate if you like. You'll have to give up unlimited champagne
and whiskey and lead an ostensibly respectable life."
Whereupon Lord Banstead called her a little devil and went off in
dudgeon to London and took golden-haired ladies out to supper. When he
returned to the country he again offered her his title, and being
rejected a second time, again called her a little devil, and went back
to the fashionable supper-room. A third and a fourth time he executed
this complicated manoeuvre; and now news had reached Viviette that he
was in residence at Farfield, where he was boring himself exceedingly in
his father's scientific library.
"I suppose he'll be coming over to-day," said Viviette.
"Why do you encourage him?" asked Katherine.
"I don't," Viviette retorted. "I snub him unmercifully. If I am a
coquette it's with real men, not with the by-product of a chemical
experiment."
Katherine dropped her work and her underlip, and turned reproachful blue
eyes on the girl.
"Viviette!"
"Oh, she's shocked! Saint Nitouche is shocked!" Then, with a change of
manner, she rose and, bending over Katherine's chair, kissed her. "I'm
sorry, dear," she said, in pretty penitence. "I know it was an
abominable and unladylike thing to say, but my tongue sometimes runs
away with my thoughts. Forgive me."
At that moment a man dressed in rough tweeds and leggings, who had
emerged from the stable side of the manor-house, crossed the terrace,
and, descending the steps, walked over the lawn towards the two ladies.
He had massive shoulders and a thick, strong neck, coarse reddish hair,
and a moustache of a lighter shade. Blue eyes looked with a curious
childish pathos out of a face tanned by sun and weather. He slouched
slightly in his gait, like the heavy man accustomed to the saddle. This
was Dick Ware, the elder of the brothers and heir to fallen fortunes,
mortgaged house and lands, and he gave the impression of failure, of a
man who, in spite of thews and sinews, had been unable to grapple with
circumstance.
Viviette left Katherine to her needlework, and advanced to meet him. At
her spontaneous act of welcome a light came into his eyes. He removed
from his lips the short corn-cob pipe he was smoking.
"I've just been looking at the new mare. She's a beauty. I know I
oughtn't to have got her, but she was going dirt cheap--and what can a
man do when he's offered a horse at a quarter its value?"
"Nothing, my dear Dick, save pay four times as much as he can afford."
"But we had to get a new beast," he argued seriously. "We can't go about
the country in a donkey-cart. If I hadn't bought one, Austin would, for
the sake of the family dignity--and I do like to feel independent of
Austin now and then."
"I wish you were entirely independent of Austin," said Viviette, walking
with him up the lawn.
"I can't, so long as I stay here doing nothing. But if I went out to
Canada or New Zealand, as I want to do, who would look after my mother?
I'm tied by the leg."
"I'd look after mother," said Viviette. "And you'd write me nice long
letters, saying how you were getting on, and I would send you nice
little bulletins, and we should all be very happy."
"Do you want to get rid of me, Viviette?"
"I want you to have your heart's desire."
"You know what my heart's desire is," he said unsteadily.
"Why, to raise sheep or drive cattle, or chop down trees in the
backwoods," she replied, lifting demure eyebrows. "Oh, Dick, don't be
foolish. See--there's mother just come out."
With a light laugh she escaped and ran up the steps to meet an old lady,
rather infirm, who, with the aid of a stick, was beginning to take her
morning walk up and down the terrace. Dick followed her moodily.
"Good morning, mother," said he, bending down to kiss her.
Mrs. Ware put up her cheek, and received the salute with no great show
of pleasure.
"Oh, how you smell of tobacco smoke, Dick. Where's Austin? Please go and
find him. I want to hear what he has to say about the stables."
"What can he say, mother?"
"He can advise us and help us to put the muddle right," said Mrs. Ware.
These stables had been a subject of controversy for some time. The old
ones having fallen into disgraceful disrepair, Dick had turned architect
and erected new ones himself. As shelters for beasts, they were
comparatively sound; as appanages to an Elizabethan manor-house, they
were open to adverse criticism. Austin, who had come down from London a
day or two before to spend his Whitsuntide holiday at home, had promised
his mother to make inspection and report.
"But what does Austin know about stables?" Viviette asked, as soon as
Dick had slouched away in search of his brother.
"Austin knows about everything, my dear," replied the old lady
decisively. "Not only is Austin a brilliantly clever man, but he's a
successful barrister, and a barrister's business is to know all about
everything. Give me your arm, dear, and let us walk up and down a
little till they come."
Presently Dick returned with Austin, whom he had found smoking a cigar
in a very meditative manner in front of the stables. Dick's face was
gloomy, but Austin's was bright, as he came briskly up and, cigar in
hand, stooped to his mother. She put her arms round his neck, kissed him
affectionately, and inquired after his sleep and his comfort and the
quality of his breakfast.
"Doesn't Austin smell of tobacco smoke, mother?" asked Dick.
"Austin," replied Mrs. Ware, "has a way of smoking and not smelling of
it."
Austin laughed gaily. "I believe if I fell into a pond you'd say I had a
way of coming up dry."
Dick turned to Viviette, and muttered with some bitterness: "And if I
fell into a dry ditch she'd say I came up slimy."
Viviette, touched by pity, raised a bewitching face. "Dry or slimy, you
would be just the same dear old Dick," she whispered.
"And what about the stables?" asked Mrs. Ware.
"Oh, they're not bad. They're rather creditable; but," Austin added,
turning with a laugh to his brother, "the mother will fidget, you know,
and the somewhat--let us say rococo style of architecture has got on her
nerves. I think the whole thing had better come down, don't you?"
"If you like," said Dick gruffly. He had given way to Austin all his
life. What was the use of opposing him now?
"Good. I'll send young Rapson, the architect, along to make a design.
Don't you worry, old chap, I'll see it through."
Young, brisk, debonair, flushed with success and the sense of the
mastery of life, he did not notice the lowering of Dick's brows, which
deepened into almost a scowl when he turned frankly admiring eyes on
Viviette, and drew her into gay, laughing talk, nor did he catch the
hopelessness in the drag of Dick's feet as he went off to gaze
sorrowfully at the fallen pride of his heart, the condemned stables.
But Viviette who knew, as Austin did not, of Dick's disappointment, soon
broke away and joined him in front of the amorphous shed of timber. She
took him by the arm.
"Come for a stroll in the orchard."
He suffered himself to be led through the stable-yard gate. She talked
to him of apple blossoms. He listened for some time in silence. Then he
broke out.
"It's an infernal shame," said he.
"It is," said Viviette. "But you needn't put on such a glum face when
I'm here especially to comfort you. If you're not glad to see me I'll go
back to Austin. He's much more amusing than you."
"I suppose he is. Yes, go back to him. I'm a fool. I'm nobody. No,
don't, Viviette; forgive me," he cried, catching her as she turned away
somewhat haughtily. "I didn't mean it, but things are getting beyond my
endurance."
Viviette seated herself on a bench beneath the apple blossoms.
"What things?"
"Everything. My position. Austin's airy ways."
"But that's what makes him so charming."
"Yes, confound him. My ways are about as airy as a hippopotamus's. Look
here, Viviette. I'm fond of Austin, God knows--but all my life he has
been put in front of me. He has had all the chances; I've had none. With
my father when he was alive, with my mother, it has always been Austin
this and Austin that. He was the head of the school when I, the elder,
was a lout in the lower fourth. He had a brilliant University career and
went into the world and is making a fortune. I'm only able to ride and
shoot and do country things. I've stuck here with only this mortgaged
house belonging to me and the hundred or so a year I get out of the
tenants. I'm not even executor under my father's will. It's Austin.
Austin pays mother the money under her marriage settlement. If things go
wrong Austin is sent for to put them right. It never seems to occur to
him that it's my house. Oh, of course I know he pays the interest on the
mortgage and makes my mother an allowance--that's the humiliation
of it."
He sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, staring
at the grass.
"But surely you could find some work to do, Dick?"
He shrugged his great shoulders. "They stuck me once in an office in
London. I suffocated and added up things wrong and told the wrong lies
to the wrong people, and ended up by breaking the junior
partner's head!"
"You had some satisfaction out of it, at any rate," laughed Viviette.
A faint reminiscent smile crossed his face. "I suppose I had. But it
didn't qualify me for a successful business career. No. I might do
something in a new country. I must get away from this. I can't stand it.
But yet--as I've told you all along, I'm tied--hand and foot."
"And so you're very miserable, Dick."
"How can I help it?"
Viviette edged a little away from him, and said, rather resentfully:
"I don't call that polite, seeing that I have come back to live with
you."
He turned on her with some fierceness. "Don't you see that your being
here makes my life all the more impossible? How can I be with you day
after day without loving you, hungering for you, wanting you, body and
soul? I've never given a thought to another woman in my life. You're my
heart's blood, dear. I want to hold you so tight in my arms that not the
ghost of another man can ever come between us. You know it."
Viviette shredded an apple blossom that had fallen into her lap. The
fingers that held the petal tingled, and a flush rose in her cheek.
"I do know it," she said in a low voice. "You're always telling me. But,
Dick"--she flashed a mischievous glance at him--"while you're holding
me--although it would be very nice--we should starve."
"Then let us starve," he cried vehemently.
"Oh, no. Oh, most decidedly no. Starvation would be so unbecoming. I
should get to be a fright--a bundle of bones and a rundle of skin--and
you'd be horrified--I couldn't bear it."
"If you would only say you cared a scrap for me it would be easier," he
pleaded.
"I should have thought it would be harder."
"Anyhow, say it--say it this once--just this once."
She bent her head to hide a smile, and said in a voice adorably soft:
"Dick, shut your eyes."
"Viviette!" he cried, with sudden hope.
"No. Shut your eyes. Turn round. Now tell me," she continued, when he
had turned obediently, "just what I've got on. No!" she held him by the
shoulders, "you're not to move."
Now, she was wearing a white blouse and a blue skirt and tan shoes, and
a yellow rose was pinned at her bosom.
"What dress am I wearing?"
"A light-coloured thing," said Dick.
"And what's it trimmed with?"
"Lace," said the unfortunate man. Lace indeed!
"And what coloured boots?"
"Black," said Dick, at a venture.
"And what flower?"
"I don't know--a pink rose, I think."
She started up. "Look," she cried gaily. "Oh, Dick! I'll never marry you
till you have the common decency to look at me--never! never! never! I
dressed myself this beautiful morning just to please you. Oh, Dick!
Dick, you've lost such a chance."
She stood with her hands behind her back regarding him mockingly, as Eve
in the first orchard must have regarded Adam when he was more dull and
masculine than usual--when, for instance, she had attired herself in
hybiscus flowers which he took for the hum-drum, everyday fig-leaves.
"I'm a born duffer," said Dick pathetically. "But your face is all that
I see when I look at you."
"That's all very pretty," she retorted. "But you ought to see more. Now
let us talk sense. Mind, if I sit on that bench again you're to
talk sense."
Dick sighed. "Very well," said he.
That was the history of all his love-making. She drew him on to
passionate utterance, and then, with a twist of her wit and a twirl of
her skirts, she eluded him. When she had thus put herself out of his
reach, he felt ashamed. What right had he, dull, useless, lumbering,
squiredomless squire, to ask a woman like Viviette to marry him? How
could he support a wife? As it was, he lived a pensioner on Austin's
bounty. Could he ask Austin to feed his wife and family as well? This
thought, which always came to him as soon as his passion was checked,
filled him with deep humiliation. Viviette had reason on her side when
she said, "Let us talk sense."
He glowered at his fate, and tugged his tawny moustache for some time in
silence. Then Viviette began to talk to him prettily of things that
made up his country interests, his dogs, the garden, the personalities
of the country-side. Soon she had him laughing, which pleased and
flattered her, as it proved her power over the primitive man. Indeed, at
such moments, she felt very tenderly towards him, and would have liked
to pat his cheeks and crown him with flowers, thus manifesting her
favour by dainty caresses. But she refrained, knowing that primitive men
are too dense to interpret such demonstrations rightly, and limited
herself to less compromising words.
"I am going to tell you a secret," he said at last, in a shamefaced way.
"You mustn't laugh at me--promise me you won't."
"I promise," said Viviette solemnly.
"I am thinking of going in for local politics--Rural District Council,
you know."
Viviette nodded her head approvingly. "A village Hampden--in Tory
clothing?"
"They're running things on party lines down here. The influence of
Westhampton is Radical, and fills the Council with a lot of outsiders.
So they've got together a Conservative Committee, and are going to run a
good strong man for a vacancy. I've given them to understand that I'll
be a candidate if they'll have me. I'd like to be one. It's a rubbishy
thing, dear, but somehow it would give me a little interest in life."
"I don't think it a rubbishy thing at all," said Viviette. "A country
gentleman ought to have a hand in rural administration. I do hope you'll
get in. When will you know that the committee have selected you?"
"There's a meeting this evening. I ought to know to-night or to-morrow
morning."
"Are you very keen on it?"
"Very," said Dick. And he added proudly, "It was my own idea."
"But you're not as keen on that as on going abroad?"
"Ah, that!" said Dick. "That, bar one, is the dearest wish of my heart.
And who knows--it might enable me to carry out the other."
The sound of a gong within the house floated through the still June air.
Viviette rose. "I must tidy myself for lunch."
They walked to the house together. On parting she put out both her
hands.
"Do be reasonable, Dick, and don't look for slights in what you call
Austin's airy ways. He is awfully fond of you, and would not hurt you
for the world."
At the luncheon table, however, Austin did hurt him, in utter
unconsciousness, by his gay command of the situation, his eager talk
with Viviette of things Dick did not understand, places he had not
visited, books he had never read, pictures he had never seen. It was
heartache rather than envy. He did not grudge Austin his scholarship and
brilliance. But his soul sank at the sight of Austin and Viviette moving
as familiars in a joyous world as remote from him as Neptune. Mrs. Ware
kept Katherine Holroyd engaged in mild talk of cooks and curates, while
the other two maintained their baffling conversation, half banter, half
serious, on a bewildering number of topics, and poor Dick remained as
dumb as the fish and cutlets he was eating. He sat at the head of the
table, Mrs. Ware at the foot. On his right hand sat Katherine Holroyd,
on his left Viviette, and between her and his mother was Austin. With
Viviette talking to Austin and Mrs. Ware to Katherine, he felt lonely
and disregarded in a kind of polar waste of snowy tablecloth. Once
Katherine, escaping from Mrs. Ware's platitudinous ripple, took pity on
him, and asked him when he was going to redeem his promise and show her
his collection of armour and weapons. Dick brightened. This was the only
keen interest he had in life outside things of earth and air and stream.
He had inherited a good family collection, and had added to it
occasionally, as far as his slender means allowed. He had read deeply,
and understood his subject.
"Whenever you like, Katherine," he said.
"This afternoon?"
"I'm afraid they want polishing up and arranging. I've got some new
things which I've not placed. I've rather neglected them lately. Let us
say to-morrow afternoon. Then they'll all be spick and span for you."
Katherine assented. "I've been down here so often and never seen them,"
she said. "It seems odd, considering the years we've known each other."
"I only took it up after father's death," said Dick. "And since then,
you know, you haven't been here so very often."
"It was only the last time that I discovered you took an interest an the
collection. You hid your light under a bushel. Then I went to London and
heard that you were a great authority on the subject."
Dick's tanned face reddened with pleasure.
"I do know something about it. You see, guns and swords and pistols are
in my line. I'm good at killing things. I ought to have been a soldier,
only I couldn't pass examinations, so I sort of interest myself in the
old weapons and do my killing in imagination."
"You give a regular lecture, don't you?"
"Well, you know," said Dick modestly, "a lot of them are historical.
There's a mace used by a bishop, an ancestor of ours. He couldn't wield
a sword in battle, so he cottoned on to that, and in order to salve his
conscience before using it he would cry out 'Gare! gare!'--and they say
that's what our name comes from--see? 'Ware--Ware.' He was the founder
of our family--though, of course, he oughtn't to have been. And then we
have the duelling pistols my great-grandfather shot Lord Estcourt with.
They're beautiful things--in the case just as he left it after the duel,
with powder, balls, and caps, all complete. It's a romantic story--"
"My dear Dick," interposed Mrs. Ware, with fragile, uplifted hand,
"please don't offend us with these horrible family scandals. Katharine,
dear, are you going to the vicar's garden party this afternoon? If you
are, will you take a message to Mrs. Cook?"
So Katherine being monopolized, Dick was silenced, and as Austin and
Viviette were talking in a lively but unintelligible way about a thing,
or a play, or a horse called Nietzsche, he relapsed into the heavy,
full-blooded man's animal enjoyment of his food and the sensitive's
consciousness of heartache.
When the ladies had left the table and the coffee had been brought in,
and the men's cigars were lit, Austin said:
"What a magnificently beautiful creature she has grown into."
"Whom do you mean?" asked Dick.
"Why, Viviette, of course. She's the most fascinating thing I've come
across for years."
"Do you think so?" said Dick shortly.
"Don't you?"
Dick shrugged his shoulders. Austin laughed.
"What a stolid old beggar you are. To you, she's just the same little
girl that used to run about here in short frocks. If she were a horse
you'd have a catalogue yards long of her points."
"But as she's a lady," said Dick, tugging his moustache, "I don't care
to catalogue them."
Austin laughed again. "Fairly scored!" He raised his cup to his lips,
took a sip, and set it down again.
"Why on earth," said he with some petulance, "can't mother give us
decent coffee?"
