Chapter 27

In the railway carriage Cowperwood discussed with Berenice the fears of her mother. She assured him that they meant nothing, it was merely the sudden change. With a little success here, she would feel better.

“If trouble comes from anywhere, it’s likely to come from visiting Americans, not the English people, ” she added thoughtfully, as they passed one charming scene after another, almost unnoted by them for the moment. “And I certainly do not intend to accept introductions to Americans, or invitations from them here in London, or entertain them either, if I can avoid it.”

“You’re right as to that, Bevy. It’s the wisest thing to do.”

“They are the people who terrify Mother. You know, Americans somehow haven’t the manners or courtesy or tolerance of these people over here. I feel at home here.”

“It’s their older culture and diplomacy that you like, ” said Cowperwood. “They are less outspoken, slower to jump at conclusions. We Americans have taken an undeveloped continent, and are developing it, or trying to, in a very few years, whereas these people have been working on this little island for a thousand years.”

At Windsor they were met by Mr. Warburton, the renting agent, who had much to say about the property he was going to show. It was really one of the most charming places on the river. Lord Stane had occupied it for years until a few summers ago.

“Since his father’s death, ” the agent explained, confidentially, “he has gone mostly to Tregasal, where his main property lies. Last year he let this place to the actress, Miss Constance Hathaway, but this year she is going to Brittany, and it was only a month or two ago that Lord Stane told me I might let it if I found a suitable tenant.”

“Has he much of an estate in Tregasal? ” asked Cowperwood.

“One of the largest, sir, ” answered the agent. “About five thousand acres. A really beautiful place, although he seldom uses it.”

At that moment a troublesome thought entered Cowperwood’s mind. Insisting to himself that he would never again allow himself to be aroused by jealousy, still the truth was that since Berenice had come into his life, he was beginning to feel the pangs. She was so much of all that he desired. Might she not, under such circumstances as these, prefer a younger, if equally brilliant and resourceful, man? Could he expect to hold her if she were to meet and come to know such a personality as Stane? The thought injected into his relationship with Berenice a tinge of something which previously had not been there.

Pryor’s Cove proved to be a dream of architecture and landscape gardening. It was over a hundred years old, though most modernly equipped, and trailed along for nearly a hundred feet in a straight line. Under great trees rather grandly overtopping its eighteen feet of height, it was surrounded by a veritable tangle of paths, hedges, flower gardens, and kitchen gardens. At the rear, to the south of the house where it faced the river, was a double ell of picturesque Leicestershire stables, with quaint fences, gates, rookeries, and birdhouses, and, as Mr. Warburton pointed out, there were riding and driving horses for the use of the tenant, black Minorca chickens, sheep dogs, and a flock of sheep, all looked after by a gardener, a hostler, and a farmer, the tenant acquiring their labor along with the house.

Cowperwood, like Berenice, was charmed by the bucolic atmosphere: the glasslike smoothness of the Thames, which crept slowly and silently toward London; the wide expanse of lawn which led down to the river; and the brightly awninged houseboat, with its fluttering curtains and wicker chairs and tables, moored to a landing. He mused over a sundial which stood in the center of a path leading down to the houseboat. How time was passing! He was really an elderly man. And Berenice was about to meet this younger man, who might interest her. On coming to him in Chicago a few months before, Berenice had said she was her own mistress, and came to him only because she desired to do so. And when she no longer desired him, she would leave him. Of course, he need not take this place, and he need not deal with Stane financially. There were other men and other ways. Abington Scarr and Lord Ettinge were possibilities. Why entertain the fear of defeat? He had lived a full life and would continue to do so whatever happened.

He noted Berenice exultingly admiring the beauties of this place. Unconscious of his thoughts, she was already wondering to herself about Lord Stane. He could not be very old, as she had heard that he had only recently come into these great properties of his father’s. However, she was chiefly arrested by the social character of the neighborhood, as described by Mr. Warburton. For in the immediate vicinity dwelt Mr. Arthur Garfield Wriothesley Gole, of the Queen’s bench; Sir Heberman Kipes, of the Consolidated British Tiles & Patterns Company; the Honorable Runciman Maynes, of the Secretariat for the Colonies; together with various other Sir Bigwigs and Sir Littlewigs and hostesses of title and achievement. Cowperwood was likewise interested by all this, and wondered what Berenice and her mother were likely to make of it. During the spring and summer here, she now pointed out, there would be house parties, garden parties, and country reunions of London city groups in politics, government, the arts, and society, so that with proper introductions one’s days and nights might be filled.

“In fact, ” commented Cowperwood at this point, “altogether an atmosphere in which one could rise or sink, and that most swiftly and fatefully either way.”

“Quite! ” said Berenice. “But one in which I should try to rise.”

He was once more captivated by her optimism and courage.

And then the agent, who had gone over to examine the hedges, returned, and Cowperwood now addressed him.

“I have just advised Miss Fleming, ” he said, without a previous word to Berenice, “that she and her mother have my permission to lease this place, if they choose. You may send the necessary papers to my solicitor. A mere formality, but a part of my legal duty as Miss Fleming’s guardian, you know.”

“Certainly, I understand, Mr. Cowperwood, ” said the agent. “But it will be a few days before the papers are ready, possibly not before next Monday or Tuesday, as Lord Stane’s agent, Mr. Bailey, will not be back before then.”

Cowperwood was somewhat gratified to learn that Stane did not trouble with his own renting details. That would keep his name out of it for the present, anyway. As for the future, he could not help wondering a little....