“Doubtless Sir John told you,” groaned Denzell.
“Dash it, Hawk,” said Osmond for answer, “what should take you to get into a sudden burst of flirtation with every pretty girl in the room —”
“Except Verena,” put in Unice.
“— and then, just as though you’d exhausted the supply of eligibles, go off to drink yourself to death in the Gentleman’s Rooms?”
Denzell put up his fingers to knead at his aching brow. “What would you have me do? I was obliged to demonstrate to Mrs Peverill that she was mistaken in supposing me to be interested in Verena.”
“I should think you did that all right!”
“But, Denzell, why?” asked Unice. “Why were you so obliged?”
He dropped his hands and looked up at her. His voice was bleak. “Because Verena wished it. And, if you must have the full sum of it, I steeped myself in liquor because I could not otherwise bear the command she has laid upon me.”
It took Unice and Osmond some little time to drag the whole story out of him. But it was told at last, to the accompaniment of a cup of hot strong coffee which his hostess pressed upon him, poured from the pot the butler sent out by the hand of one ofthe maids, and a good deal of critical comment from Osmond at least, who was inclined to think Denzell should count himself well out of it.
“I mean to say, Hawk, if you have been unable to win the girl out of her indifference —”
“She is not indifferent,” Denzell interrupted, and winced at the discomfort his own raised voice cost him. “She is — I will not say ‘in love’ because the very thought of love is anathema to her — but she does care for me. She very nearly said as much.”
“Did she indeed, Denzell?” asked Unice eagerly. “I must say, that is very much the impression I had myself — if only she will allow herself to feel it.”
Denzell nodded, and his features dropped, drawing down into despair. “There’s the rub.” He laid down his empty cup. “And as long as her mama is in question, I don’t believe she will allow herself to feel it.”
Osmond snorted. “Dash it, Hawk, this ain’t like you. Never known you to be so defeatist.”
“Circumstances alter cases.”
Unice was looking thoughtful. “Is there not some way in which her mama might be accommodated — within your future with Verena, I mean?”
“What future? According to Verena, we have no future.”
“Yes, but that is because she is unable to think beyond the present necessity. There are always other solutions. Why should not Mrs Peverill live with you both at Tuttingham, for example?”
Denzell’s features lightened for a moment. He stared at Unice. “I had not thought of that.”
“Think of it now then,” Unice urged.
But Osmond was shaking his head. “That’s no use. You don’t suppose Verena will agree to have the whole story let out to Lord and Lady Hawkeridge, do you? Dash it, the woman has left her husband! It ain’t a thing you bruit about lightly, Unice.”
“But no one could blame her for leaving such a husband,” Unice protested. “Why, I should suppose Lady Hawkeridge must be the first to condemn such brutal practices.”
“She would, of course,” Denzell agreed, but he sighed too. “Yet I believe Osmond is in the right of it. Besides which, Verena will not wish to have her mother sue to strangers for an asylum.”
Unice was daunted for a moment, but she rallied. “Not strangers, Denzell. They would be her parents-in-law.”
“You are forgetting, Unice,” Denzell said, “that I have first to overcome Verena’s reluctance even to consider the question of marriage — let alone allowing her mother to become the pensioner of myself or my parents. She has a great deal of pride.”
“Yes, false pride. I declare, I am very much of a mind to talk to her myself.”
“I doubt it would do any good.”
“I agree with Hawk,” chimed in Osmond. “If he can’t persuade her — given that she does care for him — then I don’t see her paying any mind to you, my love.”
“And before that, I must persuade her also there are men who do not demonstrate their love by beating their wives.”
“Well, if she won’t accept even that, then there’s nothing for it, Hawk. You’ll have to do as she asks.”
