“That will pass. The Emerys are really a wonderful pair. But they have their set of rules and everyone is expected to keep to them.”
“And Phillida has stepped out of line.”
“It was because she brought Kitty into the house without consulting Mrs. Emery. She is the one who expects to engage the staff and she feels it was an affront to her.”
“I wish we’d known.”
“It’s a small matter. She’ll get over it. Oh, it is good to be here. I’m glad I’ve seen you in your Welling Gardens home.”
“Hardly a home. Just a place to sleep in. That’s how Phillida and I regard it. It seems different now you’re here though.” I smiled happily. The next day, I kept my promise to Belinda. I took a cab and went to the address she had given me. It was, as she said, a small hotel in Bayswater. There was a reception desk and I asked there if Mr. Henry Farrell was in. He was not but was expected shortly. I said I would wait.
I was reproaching myself for not having made an appointment with him; but, of course, if I had attempted to do that, there was a possibility that he might have refused to see me.
For ten minutes I sat rehearsing what I would say to him, and I grew more and more convinced that I had been misguided to give way. What sort of man was he? Forceful, I imagined. He had come over here to assert his rights. He was not going to listen to me. The best thing I could do was get up and leave now. I should have discussed this with Roland, asked his advice. I knew what it would be: don’t interfere. Leave Belinda to sort out her own troubles. Of course, that was what I should have done. But I did care for her ... in an odd sort of way. I had really been delighted to see her, as I had thought, settled at last. While I was ruminating, I heard a voice say: “Mr. Farrell, there’s a lady to see you.”
He came toward me. He was of medium height, his fair hair bleached by the sun, his face clearly showing that he lived in a different climate from ours. He was deeply bronzed which made his eyes look intensely blue. His features were clear cut; and there was an undoubted air of strength about him. He was a pleasant looking young man and I could understand Belinda’s temptation to act recklessly before she realized that there could be a more splendid life ahead of her than one spent in the goldfields. “Mr. Farrell?” I said, rising.
“Yes,” he said, in a marked Australian accent. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yes. I’m Lucie Fitzgerald. I was Lucie Lansdon. I don’t know whether Belinda spoke of me to you.”
“Aw,” he cried. “You’re Lucie.” He took my hand and shook it heartily. “Glad to meet you.”
I found I was liking him.
“So you’ve come to see me?” He looked surprised but pleased.
“Is there somewhere we could talk?”
“Well, there’s a lounge. Pretty quiet this time of day. That might do.”
“Thank you. I should be so glad if you would allow me to talk to you.” He looked puzzled and led me to the lounge. He was right. It was deserted and I was glad of that.
“Come and sit down,” he said, “and tell me what this is all about.”
We sat in armchairs in a corner of the room and I said, “Belinda came to see me.
She is very distressed.”
“So she ought to be.”
“Yes, I know. She told me all about it. It’s a terrible thing she has done.” He nodded and I was silent, wondering how to go on. He prompted, “What is it you wanted to tell me?”
I hesitated. “You... you see, she was very young.”
“That makes no difference. She was willing enough. She knew what she was doing. She was dead keen. If she’s changed her mind now... well, that’s too bad.”
“I know exactly how you feel.”
“I don’t know why she sent you. What does she want you to do?”
“She didn’t exactly send me. I agreed to come. She told me all about it. She’s very unhappy. She deeply regrets ...”
“She’s said all this to me. But she’s my wife and I’m going to take her back with me.”
“Do you think it would work?” I asked. “Could it possibly be a happy marriage in those circumstances?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well... with your insisting while she is reluctant.”
“It’s what is right.”
“Oh yes, I’ve no doubt of that. But what is right does not always make for happiness.”
“Look here, I don’t really see ...”
“I know how you feel. I’m interfering. It’s no business of mine.”
“You’re dead right, it’s not.”
“But I do appreciate the fact that you listen to me ... even to tell me it’s no business of mine. It’s just that I’m very fond of Belinda. We spent a great deal of our childhood together. There’s a closeness... and she is very unhappy.”
“I tell you, she’s married to me.”
“I know, but if people don’t want to be with you, can you force them to be?”
“Yes,” he said sharply. “You can. She’d change if she came back.”
I shook my head.
“I know her well,” he persisted.
“So do I. Would you let me say something? I do appreciate your seeing me. I do really.
It must seem like a dreadful impertinence... and it is in a way.”
“Why don’t you get on with it?”
I said, “Belinda went to the goldfields when she was little more than a child. She was fascinated by the strangeness of it, the novelty. She was happy there for a time, but she had been brought up here and she knew there was a different way of life. I don’t know what happened to your marriage. But it wasn’t exactly idyllic, was it?
I mean before all this. Hadn’t you agreed to part?”
“That was in a temper. I admit I’ve got one.”
“You agreed that you’d be better apart.”
He was silent and I continued. “She came over here,” I went on, “right to the other side of the world. All that had happened in Australia seemed remote to her. She put it out of her mind. She met this man. They fell in love and she married him.”
“How could she, when she was married to me?”
“She went through a form of marriage with him. He believes he is married to her.
She suits him... and he suits her. There is to be a child.”
“What? She didn’t say.”
“Think of it, Mr. Farrell. I believe you to be a kind and good man.”
He stared at me in amazement. “You don’t know me.”
“I’m a good judge of character and I’ve summed you up.” A faint smile touched his lips and my spirits rose a little. I believed that the mention of the child had had some effect on him.
I decided to press the point. “Think of the innocent child,” I said. “Are you going to let it be born with the stigma of illegitimacy?”
He continued to stare at me. “What’s that to do with me?” he demanded. “It’s her little bastard, ain’t it? Not mine. She’s married to me. That’s how it is.”
“I know. I know.”
“What is it you’re after?”
“I want to make it right for Belinda ... for all of you.”
“Why should you?”
“Because I care about her. You understand that. You care about her, too.”
He was silent.
I went on, “I know she’s treated you badly. She hasn’t always treated me well. But I am fond of her and I believe she has a chance of finding a way of life which will suit her.”
“Yes, Lady Da-de-da.”
“Maybe. But that is what she wants. If you forced her to go back it would be a life of misery for you both. And what about the child?”
“She could have that and leave it here.”
“Mr. Farrell, a mother does not leave her child.”
“Some of them do ... and I’ve a notion Belinda might be one of them ... if it suited her.”