“Dad! At last you’re back! We were so worried—you’ve been gone so long! But did it help you? Are you feeling better?” She did not, or pretended not to notice that there was a woman with her father.
But Amber looked up at her curiously. That, she thought, must be Lettice.
She had heard a great deal about Lettice—as she had heard a great deal about all his children—but more, perhaps, of Lettice than any of the others. Lettice had been married for several years, but at her mother’s death she had returned to Dangerfield House with her husband and family to take charge of the housekeeping. Without intending to, Samuel had portrayed a prim energetic domineering woman, whom his wife was already prepared to dislike. And now Lettice was ignoring her, as though she were a lewd woman whom it was not necessary to notice.
“I’m feeling very well,” said Samuel, obviously annoyed by his daughter’s bad manners. “How is my new grandson?”
“Two weeks old yesterday and thriving! He’s the image of John!”
“Come down into the front drawing-room, Lettice,” Samuel said crisply. “ I want to see you—immediately.”
Lettice, after giving a quick stealthy glance at Amber, closed the window and disappeared and Amber and Samuel—with Nan and Tansy following—went up the staircase and into the house. The door was opened for them by a gigantic Negro in handsome blue livery and they stepped into a great entrance-hall out of which opened other rooms; a pair of broad curved staircases ran up either side of it to the railed-off hallway above.
Everywhere about them were the evidences of lush comfort and wealth: the beautifully laid floors, the carved oak furniture and tapestry-hung walls. And yet, somehow, the impression created was one of soberness, not frivolity. An almost ponderous conservatism marked each velvet footstool and carved cornice. It was possible to know at a glance that quiet and well-bred and moderate people lived in this house.
They walked off to the left into a drawing-room more than fifty feet long and Samuel saw immediately, to his regret, that he had made a careless mistake. For there, over the fireplace, hung a portrait of him and his first wife, painted some twenty years before; it had been there so long that he had forgotten it. But Amber, looking at the powerful prim unlovely face of the first Mrs. Dangerfield, understood immediately why it had been possible to induce Samuel to marry her—though she doubted whether his family would understand as well.
At that moment there were footsteps behind them and she turned to see a replica of the woman on the wall standing facing her. For an instant Lettice’s eyes met hers in a quick fierce womanly stare, all-seeing, and condemning, and then she turned to her father. Amber gave her a sweeping glance which discovered that she knew nothing about clothes, was too tall, and looked older than her thirty-two years. The gown Lettice was wearing was like those Killigrew had put on the actresses when he had wished to show a hypocritical Puritan, and against which they had always protested violently. It was perfectly plain black and fitted neither snugly nor too loosely, had a deep white-linen collar which covered her to the base of her throat, and broad linen cuffs. Her light-brown hair was almost entirely concealed beneath a starched little cap with shoulder-length lappets, and she wore no jewellery but a diamond-studded wedding-band. Against such simplicity Amber, who had thought herself very demure, felt suddenly gaudy and flamboyant.
“My dear,” said Samuel to Amber, and he took her arm, “may I present my eldest daughter, Lettice? Lettice, this is my wife.”
Lettice gasped and turned paste-white. Amber—once the ceremony was performed——had suggested to Samuel that they send a messenger ahead to notify the family. But he had insisted upon giving them what he was sure would be a most happy surprise.
Now Lettice stood and stared at her father for several stark quiet moments, and then as she turned to look at Amber there was an expression of frank horrified shock on her face. She seemed aware of it herself, but unable to help it, and this unexpected reaction on. her part was making Samuel angry. Amber, who had prepared herself for it, smiled faintly and nodded.
At last Lettice managed to speak. “Your—wife? But, Dad—” She put one hand distractedly to her head. “You’re married? But your letters never mentioned—We didn’t—Oh, I—I’m sorry—I—”
She seemed so genuinely and painfully stunned that Samuel’s rigid hauteur collapsed. He put one arm about her. “There, my dear, I know it’s a surprise to you. But I was counting on you, Lettice, to help me tell the others. Look at me—And please smile. I’m very happy and I want my family to be happy with me.”
