He had a feeling of poignant compassion seeing her sitting there, dishevelled, in the grey dawn. He had a feeling of anger too, at some unseen force of fate that had made this so unnecessary discovery possible. All was over between him and Clara — excepting their friendship. Why could not their few amorous encounters have passed unrevealed!
He set the tray on the table by the bedside.
“If you would only,” he said, “try to look on this sensibly. If you would just keep in your mind that you are the only woman —”
“The only woman!” she interrupted hoarsely. “The only woman! Please don’t ask me to keep anything quite so grotesque in my mind. My mind is put to it now to keep its balance.”
He said loudly, “You are the only woman in the world I could want as my wife. Clara —”
“Yes — I know — a wife and a mistress!”
“Not a mistress! Not a mistress! You can’t call her that. Those special feelings came and went. They left no mark. On my word of honour, Alayne, I have been true to you all our married life except for this one lapse and you know that at that time we — you and I — were not on good terms.”
She stood up facing him. “Will you leave me alone! I can’t bear anything more.” She put her hand to her head. Again her legs felt heavy, as though they were dragged down by wet seaweed.
He made a grimace of despair. “Please taste your coffee then — before I go.” He filled a cup for her with the clouded liquid. She took a mouthful then set down the cup with an expression of disgust.
“I couldn’t possibly take it.”
“Is it made so badly?”
“It is horrible.” She lay down on the bed and turned her face away.
“Will you have some of the bread and butter?”
“I couldn’t eat. Please leave me.”
With a look of deep chagrin he carried the tray to his own room.
Its window faced the east. In the first tremulous sunrays Adeline lay curled on his bed fast asleep, her expression one of beatific calm. On the foot of the bed slept the Cairn puppy, its plump body giving little hysterical jerks in a dream.
Renny drank the coffee Alayne had left and poured himself another cup. He folded two pieces of the bread together and took it in a single bite. He was terribly hungry.
He had remembered that it was Sunday when he was shaving, and he had suspended the action of the blade while he considered whether or not the day would be better for his situation than a weekday. He decided that on the whole it would make things more difficult, both for himself and Alayne. He would, in the ordinary course of living, spend more time in the house. He could not so easily absent himself from meals. On the other hand Piers and Pheasant always came to Sunday dinner and, of course, there was church.
He had a sudden desire to take little Adeline to church. She was surely old enough. He remembered sitting through a sermon on his grandmother’s knee, when he was even smaller. He thought it would take his mind off the misery of last night, if he could see her in the family pew. It would be amusing, considering her likeness to dear old Gran. It would take Adeline out of Alayne’s way. The nursemaid always had Sunday off. Alayne would certainly not feel like being troubled by a stirring child, after the night she had spent.
Would she appear at breakfast, he wondered. He shaved himself with difficulty because of his injured shoulder. Adeline and the puppy were tumbling together on the bed. Suddenly she sat up and stared.
“Why did you make that funny face?”
“My shoulder hurt me.”
‘‘Why?”
“I’ve broken a bone.”
“Let me kiss it.”
He came to the bed, one half his face covered with lather, and bent over her. She planted her mouth on his arm. “Is it better now?”
“Much better.”
He returned to his shaving. “A good thing I am almost ambidextrous,” he thought.
The puppy yelped and he turned sharply to see Adeline kissing it extravagantly. He asked:
“What were you doing to him?”
“Kissing his sore bone.”
“Humph. Well, I must take you to Mummie to be dressed.” He washed his hands and took the child to Alayne’s door.
“You call her,” he said.
She called — “Mummie, Adeline wants to be dressed!”
He went back to his room and heard Alayne’s door open and close. She would have stayed in her bed but there was the child to be cared for.
Adeline strutted about the room on her bare, beautifully shaped feet. Alayne was dressed. She wore a blue dress that accentuated the violet shadows under her eyes. She sprinkled a little cologne on her fingers and held them to her temples.
“Me. Me, too!” cried Adeline, holding up her flower-pink face.
Alayne, with a sad smile, put a few drops tenderly on the russet locks.
In glee Adeline showed every tooth.
“More! More!”
“No. You have had enough. You must be dressed.”
But it was like handling a young wild thing. She turned this way and that, wriggling, shrieking with laughter. The putting on of every little garment was an ordeal. The room swam about Alayne.
When Adeline was dressed she went to where the bottle of cologne stood and emptied it down the front of her fresh yellow frock. She strutted up and down, looking at Alayne over her shoulder.
“I laugh at you,” she said.
Then Alayne saw what she had done. With an icy look that cowed the child, she took her by the hand and led her downstairs. Renny and Wakefield were in the dining room waiting for her. Wakefield looked heavy-eyed and morose as if he too had not slept. He seemed to flourish his depression, as though in defiance of the bright sunshine that poured between the yellow velour curtains.
Renny achieved a conciliatory grin and said, addressing the air midway between Alayne and Adeline — “What a nice smell! Sunday morning scent, eh?”
Alayne was beginning to eat the half grapefruit which was served to her alone. She said:
“She has emptied my bottle of cologne on herself.”
Adeline made her mouth into a rosebud and rolled her eyes at her father. She bent her head so that Rags might tie the bib on her white nape. His pale glance travelled from one face to the other and, as was his habit when he felt stress in family relations, he was assiduous in his solicitude for Renny, drawing the principal dishes a little nearer to his side and whispering a message he had had from Wright, the head stableman.
It seemed possible to talk a little when he was in the room but, when he had gone, the two men and the woman could find no word to say and the child greedily applied herself to her porridge.