The Flower Brides (27 page)

The caller put up platinum eyeglasses and surveyed Marigold as if she had been an article offered for sale in some out-of-the-way shop that the great lady had ferreted out and descended upon.

“I am Miss Brooke,” said Marigold, lifting her chin a trifle and eyeing her caller unfavorably, “did you want to see me?”

“Why yes,” said the lady, “could we go somewhere and talk? I’m Mrs. Trescott. You are acquainted with my son, Lawrence Trescott.”

“Yes?” said Marigold, lifting her chin still higher. There was an icy little edge to her voice, and her heart was full of fright. What now was this? Had Laurie sent his mother to upbraid her? Or had he been injured somehow and was his mother here to charge her with murder?

Marigold gave her caller one steady look, noticing that there was a mean, stubborn little twist to her chin that reminded her of Laurie, yesterday, when he was putting her into his car.

“We’ll go in here,” said Marigold frigidly, whirling around to unlock her door and hoping that she had not left things in too wild confusion when she hurried away so early in the morning. She felt she needed the moral support of a perfect setting. She was conscious of Mrs. Waterman listening avidly at the foot of the stairs. They could not talk in the hall.

She opened the door and escorted the lady in.

“Will you take a seat, Mrs. Trescott,” she said.

Mrs. Trescott, however, was not quite ready to sit down. She was surveying the room in detail through her glasses, stooping to examine a few really lovely ornaments on the table, lifting her head to a fine old picture on the wall, and then giving minute attention to a framed photograph of Marigold’s father.

It was quite evident that she was bristling with questions when Marigold came back from removing her hat and coat, but the girl faced her caller almost sternly.

“Now, Mrs. Trescott?” she said, with a really impressive manner for so young a person.

Mrs. Trescott whirled around and eased herself into a large armchair, staring at Marigold, who took a straight chair opposite her.

“You have really stunning hair, you know,” she remarked irrelevantly. “I
heard
that you had.”

Marigold looked at her coldly, almost sternly.

“You wanted to see me about something?” she asked again.

“Yes,” said Adele Trescott, shifting her fur coat a little lower on her shoulders. “I came, you know, to say that I withdraw my opposition!”

“Opposition?” said Marigold with a perplexed air. “I was not aware that you had opposition to anything. To what were you opposed? I don’t understand.”

“Why, to your marrying Lawrence, my son.”

Marigold’s eyes suddenly flashed angrily. “But I have never had any idea of marrying Laurie, Mrs. Trescott.”

“No, I suppose not,” said the mother complacently. “Of course, you would scarcely expect a young man out of your class to stoop to marrying you. But as I say, I have removed my opposition, and I’m not sure but in some ways it might be a good thing. You seem to be quite presentable. And, of course, Laurie—Lawrence, I mean—has always had his own way, and I always try to humor him if I can. He’s such a delicate, sensitive boy, you know.”

Marigold recalled the silly, angry look on the face of the “delicate, sensitive boy” yesterday as he whirled her through the storm to an undesired wedding, and her expression froze into sternness.

“Mrs. Trescott, you are evidently under a misapprehension.” She spoke icily. “Your son is not a very special friend of mine, and there is no question whatever of my marrying him,
and never will be
!”

“Ah, but there is where you are mistaken, my dear! You see,
I
am managing this affair for you now, and I have come to say that I will be very glad to have you marry Laurie! He seems fond of you, and I feel that you may be a good influence in his life.”

“Mrs. Trescott, that is quite impossible! I have been out sometimes with your son in the evening, and we were friends, but recently I have come to see the matter in an entirely different light and our friendship is definitely at an end.”

“Ah! But, my dear, you would not let a little lover’s quarrel stand in the way of a good marriage.”

Marigold was growing angry and frightened. She wished her mother would walk in. Perhaps she would. It was Friday, and she had threatened this morning in their telephone conversation to come back today. But oh, she would not like to have her walk into this awful conversation, either. This was another thing that her mother must never know. This humiliation! This awful woman! Oh, she didn’t need this visit of his mother’s now to show her how utterly of another world was Laurie, the Laurie that she used to call a prince!

Marigold rose and came a step toward her caller. “Mrs. Trescott, you are utterly mistaken. Laurie and I were never lovers and never will be. Laurie is not the kind of man I would wish to marry!”

“Indeed!” said the mother haughtily. “What do you mean by that? Are you casting aspersions on my son?”

“I mean that your son does not believe in the God to whom I belong, and he also thinks it is quite all right to drink. He belongs to another world than mine. I would not want to marry him.”

“Oh—
God!
” laughed the mother. “Why, that is a small matter! I’m quite sure Laurie would be entirely willing to go to church sometimes with you. What more could you ask? And as for the drinking, that’s the very thing I came about. Laurie is at this very minute in the hospital being treated for alcoholism. At least, I
hope
he stayed. I had him sent there. He came home quite under the influence of liquor, which I much regret, of course. A young man should know how to carry his liquor. My father always did. But Laurie had been out in a terrible storm, had a wild ride somewhere, and a collision! He broke his arm and injured his ankle and is quite under the weather. He got a bad bruise on his forehead. I feel that he narrowly escaped death. He was somewhat under the influence of liquor, of course, when it happened. So I thought it over and decided to come to you. I had heard that you had very good ideas and that your influence might be good, and I came right over to ask if you won’t go over to the hospital with me now and see Laurie. Try to influence him to give up drink, at least for a little while, won’t you, till he learns self-control? I felt that if you would promise to marry him just as soon as he got out of the hospital and would go and visit him every day while he has to be there, that it might have quite an effect on him.”

Marigold was aghast, but she was thankful that evidently this woman did not know that she had been out with Laurie last night.

“No!” she said sharply. “I cannot do that. I do not love Laurie, and I know that even if I did, it would do no good for me to try to stop his drinking. A man does not stop drinking just for a girl! He needs some deeper urge than that. He needs God, and Laurie does not believe in God. He said so.”

Marigold was holding her young head high and speaking earnestly. There was mingled pity and disgust in her eyes that gave her a look of wisdom beyond her years.

“Ah, but my dear, I haven’t told you my proposition yet. You don’t realize that I would make it fully worth your while. I would settle an ample allowance on you, regardless of how my son behaved, so that you would be practically independent.”

“Stop!” said Marigold suddenly. “I don’t want to hear you say another word! Mrs. Trescott, I am not for sale!”

“Now, don’t flare up and be a foolish child! You know you will regret it by and by when you come to think it over. You don’t realize that it will mean a small fortune. I would be willing to give you—”

But Marigold marched over to her.

“I wish you would please go away!” she said, her eyes flashing fire. “I don’t ever want to hear another word about this. It is
disgusting
! You fill me with such shame and horror. If my father were alive, he would demand an apology for what you have said. Now go, or I shall have to call someone to escort you out.”

There was a tremble of almost rage in Marigold’s young voice, and Mrs. Trescott looked up astonished.

“Why,
dear
me
!” she said, lifting up her eyeglasses and watching the girl, fascinated. “They didn’t tell me you had a temper! But it’s really quite becoming! I’m sure you would be a social success if you would make up your mind to try it. You know, we are immensely wealthy, and you could have almost anything you want.”

For answer Marigold whirled around and marched into her bedroom, locking the door audibly, dropping down on her knees beside her bed and sobbing silently.

The older woman, thus left to herself, waited a minute or two, walked over and tried the door, called good-bye, then hesitating, added: “If you change your mind, just call me up. The offer still holds. Or even if you didn’t want to consider marriage, if you would just come over to the hospital and try to influence him to give up drinking for a while, I would be willing to pay you well! You see, Laurie blames me for being opposed to you, and I can’t endure it! My dear angel child!”

She delivered this to the door panel with a sob in the end of her words. It was always her last appeal, that sob. But when after duly waiting she got no reply, she turned and made her way out of the room and down the stairs. Marigold, holding her breath to listen, could hear Mrs. Waterman’s quick steps downstairs scuttling out of the way, and then she could hear the front door close and the limousine roll away down the street.

Suddenly the ridiculous side of it all came over her and she burst into mingled laughter and sobs, her tired nerves giving way in a healthy minute or two of hysterics.

But after that had passed, she continued to kneel.

“Oh, God, my Father,” she cried at last, “was I so headstrong and self-willed that You had to send me a terrible lesson like this to show me how far from Home I was getting? I see that I was. I know now that I have sinned, and I’m not worthy of all the care You have had to bring me back. Forgive and help me, dear Lord, and teach me not to seek my own way anymore. Let my life be ordered as Thou will.”

A
fter her telephone conversation with Marigold that morning, Mrs. Brooke seemed more satisfied, though her sister noticed that she was more than usually quiet and thoughtful. Finally she spoke.

“You aren’t quite at rest about Marigold, are you, dear?” she said at last.

Mrs. Brooke looked up thoughtfully.

“Yes, I’m at rest about her,” she said slowly, “but somehow I keep on feeling that she needs me. I don’t know why I should. I reason it away, and then the idea returns. If Elinor were back I think I should go home this morning, or perhaps not till this afternoon. I just feel as if I didn’t want Marigold to be there another night alone. There! Now that’s silly, I know, but I’m telling you the truth.”

Her sister smiled. “Yes, I understand. Well, dear heart, you mustn’t stay for me if you feel you ought to go! But make it this afternoon, anyway, Mary. You can get there before night if you go late this afternoon. Get there in time to take her out to dinner. Surprise her.”

Mrs. Brooke pondered that. “But I don’t like to leave you alone. You don’t think perhaps Elinor and her husband might come tonight?”

“They might. They said they would telegraph as soon as they knew. But you needn’t worry about a night or two more or less for me. I’ve my nurse here, and the servants. And it isn’t as though we lived in the wilds. There are neighbors close at hand, and lots of friends. I’ll be quite all right if you think you ought to go.”

“Well, perhaps I am foolish. I don’t
want
to go, Marian, you know that, for there will be no certainty when I can get back again once my vacation is over. But yet I can’t settle down to feel right about leaving Marigold alone any longer. Perhaps, though, I could wait until noon and telephone her at the school. You see, this is Friday, and she might be planning something. I’d like to know just how things are with her.”

Mrs. Brooke’s brow was troubled, and her sister wore a sweetly concerned look also.

“What are you two ladies worrying about?” suddenly spoke Ethan Bevan, appearing from the stairs.

“Oh, Ethan! Are you here?” they both exclaimed eagerly. “How did you get in without making any noise?”

“Stealth is my middle name,” said Ethan solemnly. “It’s the best thing I do. I make my living at it. I just ran away from my job for a few minutes to see how my family was getting along.”

“Well, I was just wishing you would come in,” said Mrs. Brooke. “In fact, I had some thought of trying to call you up if I could find out your number without alarming my vigilant sister. Ethan, if I should go home this afternoon, could you come and stay with your aunt till Elinor gets home?”

Ethan studied her thoughtfully a minute.

“What’s the idea, going home so soon?” he said. “I just felt it in my bones you were trying to slip away from us, and that’s one of the reasons I ran over, to prevent it. I guess I could arrange to stay with Aunt Marian, if you
had
to go, but I’m here to try and persuade you differently. I just know Elinor and her husband will be disappointed to have you gone when they get back, and besides, there is your job. You’ll be so much fresher for it if you stay a few more days and get a little rested. What’s the idea, anyway?”

“She feels Marigold needs her,” explained Aunt Marian.

An instant gravity came over Ethan’s face and a reserve in his voice.

“That’s different,” he said gravely. “But
does
she? What makes you think so, Aunt Mary?”

“I don’t know,” confessed Mrs. Brooke. “I just feel so!”

“Well then, something ought to be done about it,” said Ethan determinedly. “But see here, why should
you
go? I have a better plan. Why don’t
I
go up and get her? She wouldn’t resent it, would she? I’d promise on my honor to bring her back with me or die in the attempt, and there’s always the telephone in case she balks. Besides, there are later trains on which you could go home if you had to.”

“Oh, Ethan, that would be wonderful! But I couldn’t think of making you all that trouble and taking you away from your job,” said Mrs. Brooke.