LONDON AND PARIS
INFORMED of all that Hugh could tell her relating to his interview with
her husband, Mrs. Vimpany understood and appreciated his fears for the
future. She failed, however, to agree with him that he would do well to
take the journey to France, under present circumstances.
"Wait a little longer in London," she said. "If Iris doesn't write to
me in the next few days there will be a reason for her silence; and in
that case (as I have already told you) I shall hear from Fanny Mere.
You shall see me when I get a letter from Paris."
On the last morning in the week, Mrs. Vimpany was announced. The letter
that she brought with her had been written by Fanny Mere. With the pen
in her hand, the maid's remarkable character expressed itself as
strongly as ever:--
"Madam,--I said I would let you know what goes on here, when I thought
there was need of it. There seems to be need now. Mr. Vimpany came to
us yesterday. He has the spare bedroom. My mistress says nothing, and
writes nothing. For that reason, I send you the present writing.--Your
humble servant, F."
Mountjoy was perplexed by this letter, plain as it was.
"It seems strange," he said, "that Iris herself has not written to you.
She has never hitherto concealed her opinion of Mr. Vimpany."
"She is concealing it now," Mr. Vimpany's wife replied gravely.
"Do you know why?"
"I am afraid I do. Iris will not hesitate at any sacrifice of herself
to please Lord Harry. She will give him her money when he wants it. If
he tells her to alter her opinion of my husband, she will obey him. He
can shake her confidence in me, whenever he pleases; and he has very
likely done it already."
"Surely it is time for me to go to her now?" Hugh said.
"Full time," Mrs. Vimpany admitted--"if you can feel sure of yourself.
In the interests of Iris, can you undertake to be cool and careful?"
"In the interests of Iris, I can undertake anything."
"One word more," Mrs. Vimpany continued, "before you take your
departure. No matter whether appearances are for him, or against him,
be always on your guard with my husband. Let me hear from you while you
are away; and don't forget that there is an obstacle between you and
Iris, which will put even your patience and devotion to a hard trial."
"You mean her husband?"
"I do."
There was no more to be said, Hugh set forth on his journey to Paris.
* * * * * * *
On the morning after his arrival in the French capital, Mountjoy had
two alternatives to consider. He might either write to Iris, and ask
when it would be convenient to her to receive him--or he might present
himself unexpectedly in the cottage at Passy. Reflection convinced him
that his best chance of placing an obstacle in the way of deception
would be to adopt the second alternative, and to take Lord Harry and
the doctor by surprise.
He went to Passy. The lively French taste had brightened the cottage
with colour: the fair white window curtains were tied with
rose-coloured ribbons, the blinds were gaily painted, the chimneys were
ornamental, the small garden was a paradise of flowers. When Mountjoy
rang the bell, the gate was opened by Fanny Mere. She looked at him in
grave astonishment.
"Do they expect you?" she asked.
"Never mind that," Hugh answered. "Are they at home?"
"They have just finished breakfast, sir."
"Do you remember my name?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then show me in."
Fanny opened the door of a room on the ground floor, and announced:
"Mr. Mountjoy."
The two men were smoking; Iris was watering some flowers in the window.
Her colour instantly faded when Hugh entered the room. In doubt and
alarm, her eyes questioned Lord Harry. He was in his sweetest state of
good-humour. Urged by the genial impulse of the moment, he set the
example of a cordial reception. "This is an agreeable surprise,
indeed," he said, shaking hands with Mountjoy in his easy amiable way.
"It's kind of you to come and see us." Relieved of anxiety (evidently
when she had not expected it), Iris eagerly followed her husband's
example: her face recovered its colour, and brightened with its
prettiest smile. Mr. Vimpany stood in a corner; his cigar went out: his
own wife would hardly have known him again--he actually presented an
appearance of embarrassment! Lord Harry burst out laughing: "Look at
him Iris! The doctor is shy for the first time in his life." The Irish
good-humour was irresistible. The young wife merrily echoed her
husband's laugh. Mr. Vimpany, observing the friendly reception offered
to Hugh, felt the necessity of adapting himself to circumstances. He
came out of his corner with an apology: "Sorry I misbehaved myself, Mr.
Mountjoy, when I called on you in London. Shake hands. No offence--eh?"
Iris, in feverish high spirits, mimicked the doctor's coarse tones when
he repeated his favourite form of excuse. Lord Harry clapped his hands,
delighted with his wife's clever raillery: "Ha! Mr. Mountjoy, you don't
find that her married life has affected her spirits! May I hope that
you have come here to breakfast? The table is ready as you see"----
"And I have been taking lessons, Hugh, in French ways of cooking eggs,"
Iris added; "pray let me show you what I can do." The doctor chimed in
facetiously: "I'm Lady Harry's medical referee; you'll find her French
delicacies half digested for you, sir, before you can open your mouth:
signed, Clarence Vimpany, member of the College of Surgeons."
Remembering Mrs. Vimpany's caution, Hugh concealed his distrust of this
outbreak of hospitable gaiety, and made his excuses. Lord Harry
followed, with more excuses, on his part. He deplored it--but he was
obliged to go out. Had Mr. Mountjoy met with the new paper which was to
beat "Galiguani" out of the field? The "Continental Herald "--there was
the title. "Forty thousand copies of the first number have just flown
all over Europe; we have our agencies in every town of importance, at
every point of the compass; and, one of the great proprietors, my dear
sir, is the humble individual who now addresses you." His bright eyes
sparkled with boyish pleasure, as he made that announcement of his own
importance. If Mr. Mountjoy would kindly excuse him, he had an
appointment at the office that morning. "Get your hat, Vimpany. The
fact is our friend here carries a case of consumption in his pocket;
consumption of the purse, you understand. I am going to enrol him among
the contributors to the newspaper. A series of articles (between
ourselves) exposing the humbug of physicians, and asserting with fine
satirical emphasis the overstocked state of the medical profession. Ah,
well! you'll be glad (won't you?) to talk over old times with Iris. My
angel, show our good friend the 'Continental Herald,' and mind you keep
him here till we get back. Doctor, look alive! Mr. Mountjoy, au
revoir." They shook hands again heartily. As Mrs. Vimpany had
confessed, there was no resisting the Irish lord.
But Hugh's strange experience of that morning was not at an end, yet.