And since he was back in this country, he might be able to come. Feeling it to be a duty, he decided to go to Chicago to see her.
Now, in all of his life, Cowperwood had never been called upon to attend even so much as a slight illness in connection with one of his mistresses. They had all been such gay, youthful, passing affairs. And now, on his arrival in Chicago, to find Carrie, as he called her, suffering great pain and about to be removed to a hospital, was quite sufficient to cause him to meditate seriously on the tenuousness of human existence. One of Caroline’s objects in asking him to come to her was to seek his advice. For assuming that things did not turn out right, as she said gayly enough, she would like him to see that certain wishes of hers were carried out. There was a sister in Colorado, with two children, to whom she was devoted, and to whom she wished certain bonds to be transferred. These Cowperwood had advised her to buy, and they were now in trust for her at his New York bank.
He was quick to belittle Caroline’s precautions against death at her age—he was twenty-five years her senior—while at the same time thinking it was possible. She might die, of course, as they all might die, Lorna, Berenice, anyone. And how really futile this brief struggle which at sixty he was entering upon with almost youthful enthusiasm, while Caroline, at thirty-five, was fearing that she would be compelled to relinquish it. Strange. Sad.
Yet, true enough, balancing her caution exactly, she did die within forty-eight hours after her entrance into the hospital. On hearing of her death, he felt it advisable to leave Chicago immediately, since locally she had been known to have been his mistress. However, before his departure, he sent for one of his Chicago lawyers and gave him instructions as to what was to be done.
Just the same, her death preyed on his mind. She had been so gallant, so vivid, so witty, even, as she left for the hospital. The last thing she said before leaving the house, and after he had expressed his regret that he could not accompany her, was: “You know me, Frank, I’m a darn good accompanist myself. Only don’t go away till I come back. There are still a few duets left in me.”
And then she had not returned. And with her had gone one of the gayest of his Chicago memories, the time when he was in the midst of his great fight and had been able to snatch only moments with her. And now Caroline was gone. Aileen, too, was really gone, however much she might seem to be near him. Haguenin was gone, as was Stephanie Platow, and others. He was getting along. How much more was there for him? He had a sudden overwhelming desire to return to Berenice.
Chapter 46
However, getting rid of Lorna was not easy. For, like Berenice, or Arlette Wayne, or Caroline Hand, or any of a score of charmers of the past, she was not without her subtleties. And to have the great Cowperwood as her attendant was something too flattering to be relinquished without a struggle.
“Are you going to be in London long? Will you write me regularly? Won’t you come back for Christmas? Or at least by February? You know it’s settled we’re to remain in New York all winter. They’re even talking of going to London after that. Would you like it if I came over there?”
She was curled up in his lap and talking into his ear. She added that if she came to London, because of Aileen and his affairs there, she would be as unobtrusive as she had been in New York.
But Cowperwood, thinking of Berenice and Stane, was of no such mind. It was true that sensually Lorna was able to evoke a true delirium of the flesh, but socially, aesthetically and diplomatically, she was no match for Berenice, and he had begun to feel the difference. There must be an end, and a sharp one.
In spite of his various letters and cablegrams subsequent to her letter regarding Stane’s visit and her half- indicated desire to go to Tregasal, he had not heard from Berenice. And so by degrees he was beginning to associate the item in
Accordingly, one morning after a night with Lorna, and as she was dressing for a luncheon engagement, he began paving the way for his exit.
“Lorna, you and I have to have a talk. It’s about this matter of our separating and my returning to England.”
And without heeding such questions and objections as from time to time she chose to interpolate, he proceeded to present his case as exactly as he could, but without mentioning Berenice by name. Yes, there was another woman. And his happy association with her was quite the most necessary and important thing in his life at this time. Besides, there was Aileen, and the nature of his affairs in London. There must be no thought on Lorna’s part that this relationship of theirs could go on indefinitely. It had been very beautiful. It still was. But. . . .
Despite Lorna’s comments and, at certain points, welling tears, it was as though a king were talking to his favorite but about to be discarded mistress. She sat chilled, wounded, and not a little overawed and outfaced. That such a swift end should be made of this was unbelievable. And yet, looking at him, she knew it was so. For never, in all their hours together, had he once said that he deeply cared for her or that it would not end. He was not one to say such things. And yet, because of her beauty and talent, she had not believed it possible that any man, even Cowperwood, once he had entered into this rich intimacy, could find it within his strength to leave her. How could he propose it? Frank Cowperwood, her granduncle, really her own flesh and blood, and her lover!
But Cowperwood, dynamic, thoughtful, cold, the executioner as well as the lover, standing before her and saying that of course there was this blood tie, and because of that and his real affection for her there could be no final mental separation. But there would have to be a physical one.
And so it was, except that during the several days in which he was preparing to sail, there were more long conversations, in which she argued that he should continue to see her as a relative; she would not in any way interfere with him. To which he replied that he would see. At the same time, however, his mind was continually on Berenice. His knowledge of her told him that in spite of Lorna she probably would not leave him, but she might feel less obligated and so withdraw her intellectual and emotional support. And now there was Stane in the background. He must not delay, for unquestionably she was not dependent on him. He would have to make his peace with her as quickly as possible.
After making all the necessary arrangements, and not before, he decided to tell Aileen that they were returning to London. And one evening, as he was entering his home preparatory to speaking to her, he met Tollifer just leaving. Cowperwood greeted him cordially and announced casually, after an inquiry or two relative to his doings in New York, that Aileen and he were returning to London in a day or two. This bit of information Tollifer clearly understood meant that he also would be sailing, and he was delighted. For now he could return to Paris, and probably Marigold Brainerd.
But how easily and skilfully this man arranged things! For at one and the same time he could have Lorna in New York and the Lord only knew whom abroad, and also order Aileen and himself to London or the Continent! And all the while maintaining the same untroubled look that he had noted the first time he saw him. Whereas he, Tollifer, at news of this announced change, must proceed to disturb all his present arrangements in order to accommodate and make possible and pleasant this other man’s brisk and dauntless progress through life!
Chapter 47
Meanwhile, during four days in late September, Berenice was being entertained by the picturesque and historic phases of Tregasal. Stane had arranged that his guests should include a jolly and interesting couple who lived on an adjoining estate, a Mr. and Mrs. Robert Waler; also Warren Sharpless, the prosperous master of one of the very considerable fishing industries of the region, who had long since passed from the tradesman to the gentleman class. These three were to help entertain Mrs. Carter.
And true to his explanation of himself, Stane impressed Berenice as being markedly inclined to place diversion on an equal footing with his considerable financial interests. In other words, he knew how to play. At Tregasal, an immense plateau of moorland which at different points led to woods or the slaty promontories and beaches of this westerly coast, Stane was full of enthusiasm for what his estate and county had to show. To Berenice, with whom
