“Oh, I think so; at least, for three or four more weeks. Mother isn’t feeling well, and her principal desire at the moment is to stay here and rest.”
She smiled reassuringly at him while feeling at the same time that once Cowperwood returned, or she had time to write or cable him, the thing might be arranged. Personally, she would like nothing better than to accept this invitation. And a friendship here, with Cowperwood’s approval if not his presence, might further his affairs in connection with Stane. She would write Cowperwood at once.
“But after three or four weeks, do you think it will be possible?” asked Stane.
“I am quite sure of it. And nothing would give us all greater pleasure, I assure you.”
And Stane accepted the mixed offer with the best grace in the world. For, plainly, this young American beauty did not need him or Tregasal or his titled connections. She was a person in her own right, and was to be accepted only on her own terms.
Chapter 44
Uncertain as Berenice was about the wisdom of developing this relationship, it was partially furthered by Cowperwood’s delay in returning. For already he had written, and this on account of Lorna, that until the approaching presidential election was over, he could not return to London. Also, he shrewdly added, if he could not very soon return, he would send for her to meet him in New York or Chicago.
While this letter provoked speculation, it did not arouse any suspicions. And nothing would have come of it except for the clipping, mailed by Aileen, which arrived the week following Berenice’s conversation with Stane. Trifling over her mail in the east bedroom of the cottage one morning, she picked up a commonplace envelope addressed to her New York home and forwarded to her here. It contained pictures as well as descriptions of Lorna Maris, and an article clipped from
A tidbit of gossip now going the rounds relates to an internationally famous multimillionaire and his latest protege, one of the dancing favorites of the hour. The item, as retailed, is romantic in the extreme. It sets forth how this gentleman, famed for his financial triumphs in a certain midwestern city as well as his penchant for young and beautiful maidens, came across, in one of our outlying cities, the most beautiful and now the most famous terpsichorean star of the season, and appears to have made an instantaneous conquest. As great as is the wealth of this Maecenas and his fame for extravagant expenditures or endowments on those who chance to attract his interest, she was not asked to retire from the stage and accompany him to Europe—from where he has recently returned in search of capital for his latest venture—but rather, because of his infatuation, he seems to have been persuaded to remain here. Europe calls, but the supreme financial adventure of his life has been halted, in order that he may bask in the glow of this latest luminary. Silk-hatted stage door Johnnies wait vainly while a private car whisks her away to such joys as we can only infer. The clubs, the restaurants, the bars are agog with talk of the romance. For its conclusion is dubious, and assuredly Europe cannot be made to wait indefinitely.
Berenice was at first more surprised than shocked. Cowperwood’s enthusiasm for her, as well as his seeming extreme contentment in her companionship and his work, had lulled her into the notion that for the present, at least, she was safe. At the same time, as she studied the picture of Lorna, she was quick to perceive the sensual fice that markedly vivified this latest favorite. Was this true? Had he, and so soon, found another? For the moment, she could scarcely forgive the substitution. It had not been more than two months since he had avowed her the sum of the exquisite in womanhood, and that she, of all women, need not fear variability or competition. And yet, here he was in New York, with no honest reason other than Lorna to keep him there. And writing her this nonsense about the presidential election!
By degrees, she grew very, very angry. Her slate-blue eyes turned cold. But finally, reason came to her rescue. For was she not in possession of drastic weapons of her own? There was Tavistock, who, if a fop, was socially so secure that he and his mother were frequently included in Court receptions. And there were others: the glances and appreciative eyes of a score of signally important as well as attractive individuals in this, to her, newer world which plainly said: “Consider me!” And, finally, there was Stane.
But as hostile to Cowperwood as these first thoughts of Berenice might appear, there was in them no desperation. For after all, she cared for him. They both had seen how much of real value had already come to them through each other. She was nonplussed, hurt, startled, not a little angry but not defiantly so. Had she herself not often wondered whether it would be possible for an affection and temperament such as hers to withdraw him entirely from his old moods and ways? She had admitted to herself, or half-believed, that she could not. At best her hope had been that this combination of their qualities and interests would be sufficient to hold both in a relationship that would be enticing, at least profitable. And now, was she going to have to say to herself, and so soon, that all had already failed? Thinking of her own future as well as his, she was not willing to admit this. What had already been was far too wonderful.
Already she had written Cowperwood in regard to Stane’s invitation and had been intending to await his reply. But now that this particular evidence was before her, and whatever her ultimate decision in regard to Cowperwood might be, she decided to accept his lordship’s invitation, encourage his enthusiasm for her. And thereafter she would decide what she would do about Cowperwood. She was especially interested to see what effect Stane’s manifested interest in her was likely to have on him.
And so she now wrote Stane that since her mother had considerably improved and was in a state where a change would be good for her, she would be glad to accept his second invitation which had arrived a few days before.
As for Cowperwood, she decided to stop writing him. And since she did not wish to compromise herself with Stane in any way, she would do nothing there that would bring about a rupture with Cowperwood. It would be better to wait and note the effect of her silence on him.
Chapter 45
Meanwhile, in New York, Cowperwood was seemingly still in full enjoyment of his latest passion, but in the background, and the very immediate background, at that, were thoughts of Berenice. As was almost always the case with him, his purely sensual enthusiasms were limited in duration. There was something in his very blood stream which, in due course, invariably brought about a sudden and, even to himself, almost inexplicable cessation of interest. After Berenice, however, he found himself troubled by a conviction that at last, and for the first time in his life, he was courting a loss which was not purely sensual and which, therefore, could prove not only aesthetically but mentally devitalizing. Alone among women she had brought something besides passion and cleverness into his life, something sensitively involved with beauty and creative thought.
And now, there were two other things which gave him pause. The first, and most important, was the receipt of Berenice’s letter telling him of Stane’s visit to Pryor’s Cove and the invitation he had extended to her and her mother to visit Tregasal. This disturbed him very much, for Stane’s physical and mental charms were clear to him. And he had sensed that these would appeal to Berenice. Should he be done with Lorna at once and return to England to forefend against any inroads on the part of Stane? Or should he linger a little longer in order to enjoy to the full his relationship with Lorna, and by so doing indicate to Berenice that he was not really jealous, could calmly brook so distinguished and competent a rival, and thereby persuade her to the thought that he was the more secure of the two?
But in addition there was another matter which complicated his mood. This was the sudden and most unexpected illness of Caroline Hand. Of all the personalities preceding Berenice, Caroline had been the most helpful. And her intelligent letters had continued to assure him of her unchanging devotion and to wish him success in his London project. But now came word from her that she would shortly have to be operated on because of appendicitis. She desired to see him, if only for an hour or two. There were many things she wanted to say to him.
