Fenella, the fabulous, the incredible and the mysterious, might be a product of an earlier era when life was lived in a more colourful manner; but the new era had scarcely begun, and Fenella would flourish for many a day as yet to come.
At the wedding the bridegroom's best man was Andrew Beddoes— a serious, quiet young man who selected Melisande for his attentions and stayed by her side during the drinking of toasts.
He was pleasant and courteous and seemed such a contrast to Fermor that she was glad of his company.
He talked of his friendship with the bridegroom, of their profession, of the luck of Francis Grey, who was as happy as a man could be.
Melisande liked him for his warm appreciation of Lucie's bridegroom.
He talked interestingly of his hopes for the future. Francis was going ahead. Mr. Beddoes was certain that he would succeed with Lucie to help him. In such a profession a man needed a wife, and a wife like Lucie could help so much. There was a great deal of entertaining to be done. Lucie was so poised, so elegant and so modest, and yet completely confident.
"You speak as though you are in love with Lucie yourself," said Melisande.
"No," he said gravely, "not with Lucie." He smiled and said how kind Melisande was to listen to him.
"But I am so interested. I hope you will be as lucky as Francis Grey."
"I hope that too," he said.
After the wedding she saw more and more of Andrew Beddoes.
He came often to the house, where Fenella welcomed him with special warmth. She allowed him to walk with Melisande in the Park with the newly married pair as chaperons.
There were times when they visited Lucie and her husband. Then the men would talk of Law, and Lucie would expound on the delights of housekeeping. It was a pleasant household, and it seemed to Melisande that Lucie had grown more attractive since she had married.
Fermor was angry when he saw what was happening.
Fenella did not deny him admittance to her house. She told herself that it would be good for Andrew to meet a little competition. She and Polly watched his sober courtship and the fiery one of Fermor with amusement and delight.
"It's dangerous," Polly said. "You never know what a young man like that will do. It wouldn't surprise me if he abducted Melly. He's quite capable of it."
"I know. I know," said Fenella. "But he'd have to get her consent."
"He might do that."
"But have you noticed she's changed? There was a time when I thought she was ready to fall into such a trap. But not now. Something's happened. She's wary. She may have discovered some of his wicked secrets. Depend upon it, he's got some."
"You think she'll take Andrew?"
"She's fundamentally a good girl, Polly. I ought to know. Don't I know girls? She longs for that bad one, and I believe he would have won, but she knows his wife. I feel sure that he's made some mistake somewhere. He must have made love to Melisande before his marriage. It's all very well to be bad, but badness must have some disguise. He's too blatantly wicked. That's his youth, I expect. He's too arrogant as yet and thinks he can get away with anything. He should have waited until after his marriage. Then he could have come along, very sad and dejected and told her his wife didn't understand him."
"That old tale?"
"All tales are new to those who haven't heard them before. He should have made her sorry for him. Melisande is generous; she's all heart. She'll act first and think afterwards. But in behaving as he did he made her think first. She's thinking now. She's thinking hard. And Lucie's working for Andrew Beddoes. Our dear Lucie has no imagination and, like all the unimaginative, she sees others as a pale shadow of herself. She's happy. She's got her home and lawyer. She's got what she wanted. Therefore she decides that's what Melisande must want."
"But something's happened to change Melly. It was that day I told
you about. They walked behind Lucie and me . . . like a pair of lovers. Then, as we went into the house, I noticed she was as white as a sheet. She's been different since then."
"It may be that his wife saw them together."
"What! Followed them! Ladies don't do such things, Madam dear."
"Jealous women do; and ladies can turn into jealous women, Poll, my dear. It was something like that, I'll warrant. Well, it will do Master Fermor good to know that he can't have it all his own way. He's like his father. Men used to be like that when I was young. Hard livers, hard drinkers, hard lovers. Times are changing, my insect. We're getting prim. I shouldn't have been able to start a salon like mine in these days. This young Gladstone is not our sort at all, and he's one of the men of the future. I don't like the virtuous, Polly. They pry. They see evil rather than good. No! Men are not like they used to be. But Fermor's a chip off the old block of mankind. He's of our time . . . not of the coming age. Times are changing a*ad we're sticking, Polly. We don't belong to the age that's just beginning.
'Wedlock is a hard pinching boot But fornication is an easy shoe.'
"Yes, some years ago that was printed quite casually in one of the papers, and it was not meant to -shock. It was the way we thought in those days. Most people think the same now; they always think the same; but we're entering a new age, Polly. We're becoming a people who wrap ourselves up in decorum and think that if we lay it on thick, what's underneath doesn't exist. But it's there just the same. It's there."
"So he's one of the old lot, is he?" said Polly. "He finds his wife a hard-pinching boot and he thinks our Melly would be an easy shoe. I don't doubt it. I don't doubt it at all. But our little girl took fright, and that's going to send her to Mr. Beddoes. I hope it's right. I only hope it's right."
"He's bewitched you as he has Melisande. That's what men were like in the old days."
"Well, we'll see. But I'd like our little French Melly to be a happy little girl, that I would."
"She will. She'll marry Beddoes and live happy ever after. And we shall have done our duty."
"And earned our money."
"Don't be vulgar, Polly. In time she'll understand that sober marriage and a bank balance are worth all the blue-eyed wooers in the world ... in the long run, of course."
But Polly sighed; and Fenella sighed; they were romantics at heart.
So the meetings between the lawyer and Melisande were encouraged and, a month or so after Lucie's wedding, Andrew Beddoes asked Melisande to marry him.
"I know it seems sudden to you, Miss St. Martin," he said, "but I think it is partly due to seeing the happiness of my friend, Francis Grey. I won't deny that I have given this matter a great deal of thought. I have even discussed it with Grey. He is fond of you, and his wife loves you dearly. We could be near neighbours of theirs and we—he and I—might even consider joining together in a business relationship."
"I ... I see," said Melisande.
She looked at his clear, honest-looking eyes, at his serious face. Fermor had made her expect more passion in a proposal; but this was, of course, a different proposition from that which Fermor had made. She thought of Leon, whose proposal had been of yet another nature. Was she as fond of this lawyer as she had been of L£on ? It was hard to say. Then she had been innocent and inexperienced. She knew now that Leon had aroused her pity and that she had turned to him in order to escape from Fermor. Once again she was seeking escape from Fermor. She did not pity this self-assured young man, but she did admire him. He was always courteous; he did not anger her; he was so energetic in his desire to advance in his profession. How many times had she compared him with Fermor—and always to Fermor's disadvantage! Andrew would be a faithful husband, she was sure; Fermor never. Andrew was determined to make his way in the world. What ambitions had Fermor? Few it seemed, but to seduce her. There had been talk of his going into Parliament. She wondered whether he was too lazy. He already had a large income and one day would inherit more. Fermor seemed to have no ambition but to look about the world, decide on what he wanted, and proceed to take it.