At this point, Lady Saltash gave it as her opinion that Lord Wrotham would do much better without Ferdy’s assistance. She earned Ferdy’s undying gratitude by telling him that he might stay to dine in Camden Place; and told George that if Sherry showed any desire to come in search of his wife he was to inform him that she had gone to a private party, and would certainly not return home before midnight.
TWENTY-THREE
IT WAS NINEo’clock, and the Abbey bells were just chiming the hour, when Sherry stalked into Lord Wrotham’s private parlour at the White Hart. George had dined, and the covers had been removed, and a bottle of Old Red Port, and two glasses, set upon the table.
Sherry waited only until the waiter who had shown him up to the parlour had withdrawn before greeting his friend in a manner that in some slight degree expressed his feelings. ‘You black-hearted scoundrel, George!’ he said fiercely.
Lord Wrotham, suppressing a strong inclination to retort in kind, tried what a soft answer would achieve. ‘Hallo, Sherry! Thought you would be coming to see me. Glass of port with you!’
‘The only use I have for a glass of port is to throw it in your damned face!’ replied Sherry, not in the least mollified.
Lord Wrotham laid a firm hand on the bottle. ‘No, you don’t,’ he said. ‘And it’s no use your trying to call me out, because I’m not going to meet you, and even if I did you couldn’t kill me! Probably wouldn’t hit me at all. I don’t blame you for wanting to try, mind you!’
‘Oh, you don’t, don’t you?’ Sherry exclaimed. ‘Very obliging of you, by God! What were you doing with my wife?’
‘Escorting her home,’ answered George calmly.
‘The devil you were! Met her by chance, I take it?’ said Sherry, with awful sarcasm.
‘I did, but if you mean wasn’t I aware that she was in Bath, yes, I was.’
‘You dare to stand there coolly telling me you knew where she was –’
‘Yes, I own it was a curst trick to play on a fellow,’ admitted George. ‘I never liked it above half, but I gave my word to Lady Sherry I’d not betray her, so there was nothing for it but to hold my peace.’
Sherry was looking as black as thunder. ‘She toldyouwhere she could be found? She tookyouinto her confidence? Wrotham, answer me this, or I’ll choke the truth out of you! – Did she run away from me toyou?’
‘No, ran to Gil,’ replied George. ‘Ferdy and I had been dining with him. To be frank with you, Sherry, she told us the whole, and begged us to help her to hide from you. She was in a sad taking. In fact, I was within an ace of setting off to find you there and then, to call you to account!’
‘You had better have done so!’ Sherry said swiftly, a white shade round his mouth. ‘A precious set of friends I have! All these weeks – Where is she?’
‘She is residing in Camden Place, the guest of Lady Saltash,’ George said.
Sherry stared at him. ‘Lady Saltash! Gil’s grandmother? Well, of all the – I little thought when I came here what I was to find! It passes everything, so it does! The guest of Lady Saltash! And tolerably well entertained, I collect? Not obliged to earn her bread! Not in any kind of straits!’
‘Damn it, you should be glad of that!’ retorted George.
‘Glad of it! Of course I’m glad of it! But when I think – And you knew! You, Gil, and Ferdy! Calling yourselves my friends and aiding and abetting my wife to conceal herselffrom me, while I hunted high and low for her, and was gudgeon enough to picture her in want and distress! By God, it beats everything so it does! I’d like to tear your guts out and throw ’em to the crows!’
‘Oh, take a damper!’ said George impatiently. ‘Or go back to London, and tear Gil’s guts out! It was his notion, not mine.’
Sherry, who was striding about the room, said over his shoulder: ‘Walking along as cheerfully as you please, with her hand in your arm! Never even waiting to let me come up to her! The guest of Lady Saltash! A pretty fool you have made me look, between the four of you!’
‘No, we haven’t. No one knows the truth save ourselves. Lady Sheringham goes by the name of Miss Wantage here.’
This piece of intelligence seemed, oddly enough, to enrage the Viscount more than ever. He appeared to have difficulty in catching his breath. George judged the time ripe for a second offer of refreshment. He poured out two glasses of port, and handed one to his afflicted friend. Sherry took it absently, tossed off the wine, and regained his power of speech. Fixing George with a smouldering eye, he said: ‘I take it my wife ain’t wearing the willow for me?’
‘No,’ said George, following out his instructions. ‘She was devilish upset at the start of it all, but she seems to be in famous shape now. Likes Bath, you know. Likes the balls, and the concerts and has made friends here. Very taking little thing, Kitten: I fancy she is quite the rage in Bath.’
This information did not afford the Viscount any gratification. He ground his teeth. ‘She is, is she? And I thought –!’ His feelings again overcame him, and he resumed his pacing about the room. He was about to speak again when a distant medley of sound which had been vaguely irritating him since his entrance into the room more forcibly intruded upon his ears. ‘What the devil is that infernal howling?’ he demanded.
‘Devilish, ain’t it?’ agreed George. ‘It’s the Harmonic Society. They meet here every week. Wouldn’t have come if I’d known. They sing glees.’
‘What!’ Sherry exclaimed incredulously. ‘You mean to tell me they come here just to kick up that curst caterwauling din every week? Well, there’s a horrible thing! Bath! That’s Bath for you!’
‘You’d think it was enough to put the shutters up at this place, wouldn’t you?’ said George. ‘Gave me a nasty start when they first struck up, I can tell you.’
Both young gentlemen brooded silently for a moment or two over a state of society that could permit such atrocities. A pause in the musical activities in the distance recalled Sherry to more pressing matters. He cast George a measuring glance, and said: ‘How often have you been here since Kitten left me?’
