Chapter I: The Earl’s Visit

The Earl of Strathfell’s luxurious limousine had just stopped before Lady Dearn’s big mansion in Park Lane. The owner got out of the car and made his way with graceful dignity up the easy flight of granite steps. He was a tall, erect man with an imposing figure, a proud handsome face, thickly waving white hair and large grey eyes. His clothes were immaculate, from his silk hat to his perfectly shaped boots.

He pressed the bell deliberately. The door opened, and, when he asked to see Lady Dearn, a footman in purple uniform told him that her ladyship was “not at home.”

But Lord Strathfell was not easily turned away. He took out his card, wrote a few words on it and handed it with a sovereign to the expressionless servant as he said, “Kindly take my card to Lady Dearn at once.”

The man ushered him into a small reception room and disappeared. He returned some minutes afterwards and said that her ladyship would see him; then he led the visitor upstairs to one of the large drawing-rooms.

The earl took an armchair, though not a low one--he hated low chairs--then looked about him absently. It was a white and gold room, sumptuously furnished, containing priceless statues and pictures. But his experienced eye did not enjoy the great works of Art surrounding him; he was impatient for the door to open and the interview he desired to begin. At last there was the soft rustle of silk, and Lady Dearn entered.

Lord Strathfell rose and a look of surprise came for a moment into his fine grey eyes as he saw his hostess. She approached him with head slightly bent; her eyes were swollen with weeping and she was still clutching a small lace handkerchief convulsively.

“I would not have seen any one else to-day but you,” she began in trembling tones, “and not even you unless you had urged it. I have had an awful blow this morning--I am in terrible trouble--it is about--Iris.” She sank into an easy chair, rested her elbow on its arm and shaded her eyes with her white, well-formed hand.

“Is she ill?” asked her guest with deep concern.

“Oh no!” Lady Dearn replied, waving the inquiry impatiently aside. “Iris is never ill, I don’t think she could be if she tried.”

The earl looked distinctly relieved, the girl was a great favourite of his. “Ah, I am glad of that!”

“But the other thing is far, far worse--it is absolutely appalling! To think a child of mine could have sunk so--low,” and she dabbed the fragment of linen and lace against her eyes.

“I cannot imagine Miss Iris doing anything--very dreadful,” said Lord Strathfell, filling up an awkward pause.

“Yes, it is so unexpected, and it has all come through her going to that awful country; she ought never to have been allowed to go in the first place.”

“I thought Australia was rather a fine place.”

“Oh, I daresay the place is all right; but it is the atmosphere, people are so lax out there--it is most deteriorating to pride and morals.”

“Morals?” queried her handsome guest. “You don’t mean to insinuate that Miss Iris’s fault lies in that direction?”

The distracted mother began to weep again. “Ah, my poor wayward child,” she almost moaned, “if only I could be there beside you and save you from that awful fate! Isn’t it ghastly?” she continued turning to her companion. “It takes six weeks to get there--of course I shall have to catch the next boat, but even then I may be too late--ah, too late!”

“I don’t quite understand,” said Lord Strathfell, his smooth brows puckering slightly. “Has your lovely daughter done anything really----?”

“Yes, a most shocking thing--I hardly like to tell you about it; but I suppose you will be sure to hear of it later on, so you might as well be told now--I must try to get used to the idea of it,” she wailed piteously.

“If I could be of any help--the least assistance----”

“No, no; thank you all the same, but you cannot do anything; no one can.”

“Is it really as bad as that? Dear me!”

“Yes, Iris has fallen in love with a--a--groom,” she said in the same horror-struck tones she would have used if she had been announcing that her daughter had committed a murder.

“Oh, surely----” began Lord Strathfell.

“I assure you it is true. The man is a common groom, employed by the proprietress of the boarding-house where Iris and her cousin have been staying, and the foolish child has fallen most violently in love with him--and she is actually going to--_marry_ the awful creature! Think of it, _my_ daughter, who has had the most brilliant offers, to sink so low as to marry a common--groom! I shall never have a peaceful moment again, never hold up my head any more; it is too terrible, too dreadful--a disgrace! I am glad her poor father did not live to see this day; it would have killed him if he had, for in spite of his gentle, kind ways he was a very proud man; he could never have endured such a disaster to his favourite daughter! And my poor child--think what a life she will have with such a man! Of course he is only marrying her for her position and money.”

“I should have thought Miss Iris was quite attractive enough to make any man want to marry her for herself,” observed the earl sententiously.

Lady Dearn shrugged her shoulders impatiently. “That sort of man would not have taste enough to appreciate Iris’s beauty. Any pink-and-white dairymaid would have done as well. I tell you he is a designing villain, an unscrupulous impostor, who has taken advantage of my child’s inexperience and waywardness. I had a long letter from Captain Barton this morning telling me all about it; he went out there for part of his furlough, you know.”

“I suppose he went out to marry Iris himself,” commented the earl dryly.

“Yes--he did wish to marry her--if only she had accepted him--instead of this common man.”

“But the--man might not be so bad after all; he might even turn out to be a--gentleman.”

“A gentleman!” sniffed Lady Dearn. “He is a dreadful creature of the most vulgar type! Captain Barton writes of an awful scene in a common bar, where the man was disgustingly intoxicated--kissing the barmaid! I believe Ralph had to drag him out and put him to bed.” Lady Dearn shuddered. “Think of Iris falling in love with such a low creature--I can’t make it out--a child of mine to have such depraved tastes--it is the influence of that country with its careless laxity.” The distraught mother wept afresh.

Lord Strathfell sat looking down on the rich pattern of the luxurious carpet. Kissing a barmaid! What an awful crime! Really! But perhaps in Australia things were different. He rubbed his smooth cheek once or twice. “I am sorry about that--very sorry. Still the young people have not done anything along the lines--you indicated. As far as I can see they have only fallen a--little hotly in love with each other.”

“As far as you can see! Why, you don’t know anything about it--I haven’t told you half! But I suppose I might as well let you know all--such scandal soon leaks out; I tell you Iris has behaved most disgracefully, most shockingly! They have spent afternoons together in dark caves, terribly wet places where you prowl about under hills and what not; think of my daughter in that awful blackness for hours together with such a man! However she comes to like these things is past my comprehension! And they have had secret meetings in lanes at night, and----” Lady Dearn’s voice lowered to a horrified whisper, “and Captain Barton writes of some trip to the mountains where he saw the man, with his arms round Iris, actually--kissing her! He is a double-dyed villain, and Iris must be mad. Whatever is a mother to do with such a daughter?” She closed her eyes and made a despairing little gesture.

“I tell you what you can do, Lady Dearn; let her--marry him!”

His hostess sat up quickly. “Let her marry the impostor, the villain, the groom--never! Lord Strathfell, how can you suggest such a thing? I am going out by the next boat, and, even if they are married, if there is any law or any kind of force which can separate them, they shall be dragged apart!” She said it with a cold glitter in her china-blue eyes.

When Lady Dearn first began to confide the cause of her trouble to her friend, a curious expression had come into Lord Strathfell’s handsome features, but it had only remained a few moments and afterwards his face had become as inscrutable as ever. Now, however, the odd expression returned while he said, in very even distinct tones: “Lady Dearn, I have come to--plead the cause of--of--that young man----”

His companion looked up quickly.

“The groom?” she inquired incredulously.

“Yes--for he is my--son.”

Lady Dearn’s red-rimmed eyes opened wide in amazement. “The groom, the villain, the impostor--_your son_?”

“The groom if you like, though I believe his real position is that of guide and driver; but villain and impostor--never!” The earl drew himself up as he spoke. “Justin has been wild and done most foolish things, but I know he has never done a mean or dishonourable one----”

“But I don’t understand,” interrupted Lady Dearn, who was not interested in the ethical side of his nature. “Do you mean to say Mr. Rees, as Ralph calls him, is really your son? How----”

“My dear Lady Dearn, don’t you remember my second son, Justin, went to Australia a few years ago, and the painful circumstances which led to the--exile?” Lord Strathfell lowered his eyes to the rich Axminster carpet for a few seconds before continuing. “I had requested him never to use his own name, so he called himself Rees. I wanted to make him an allowance when he went away, but he refused to take it as I wouldn’t allow him to use his own name, so he had to work when he reached Tasmania. Miss Smith, the boarding-house proprietress, needed a driver and guide, and he took the post.”

So the man was no common groom after all, but a son of one of England’s most distinguished peers! And now Lady Dearn remembered that the eldest son had died six months ago, so Justin would be the heir, come in for the titles and all the estates, and, if father and son were reconciled, as they seemed on the point of being just now, he would inherit the earl’s enormous private fortune as well. Suddenly things had taken an entirely different aspect. The groom Ralph had written about so slightingly, so contemptuously, was turning out to be a fairy prince in disguise; one of the best matches in the land! He had been a little wild, and, if Captain Barton could be believed, he was evidently a little wild still; but then, what was that? What young man had not his little deviations from the straight path? It was only natural; poor, dear fellow, shut away in exile--no wonder he might be a little--indiscreet!

But how appalling of Ralph to give her the impression that Justin was a common groom! And she had been speaking about him to the proud earl in the most depreciating terms; he might easily become offended, and all through Ralph’s annoying bungling! She would drop the soldier in future; he should never be invited to her home again. She thought of all this as Lord Strathfell explained the situation to her more fully. He had heard from Justin a fortnight ago, telling him how Iris and he had met, that they had fallen in love with each other, but that of course it was impossible for him to ask her to marry him under the circumstances. However, he wanted to tell her his real identity and asked his father to allow him to do so. Justin told him how he had spent his time during the last three years, and how he had kept his failing in abeyance by living by the lonely mountains, far away from temptation. The earl had received another letter from him that morning telling him of his fall during his visit to a neighbouring township. Ralph had arrived. Justin had thought that Captain Barton, being more fortunately situated, might make Iris happy, so had withdrawn to give him a fair chance of winning her. But he could not endure seeing them constantly together, and, while he was away, the fall had taken place. He had gone back and told Iris about the lapse; she had forgiven him in the most angelic way, and--well, they had discovered they could not live without each other.

“Now if you will give your consent to their marriage,” went on the earl, “I am going to cable to Justin that he can disclose his identity, come back and live at Strathfell Court and I will allow him £10,000 a year and all shall be right between us. As Strathfell Court is in the country, he can live there as quietly as where he is at present--if that should be necessary; but I have no fear at all about his future if Iris becomes his wife. I want to cable to-day, but came to see you first to ask for your consent to their marriage; if you will give it, perhaps you yourself will send a cable to Iris and tell her so?”

Lady Dearn had quite recovered from her weeping. “Yes, certainly--if--he is your son, of course, I most gladly give the young people my blessing,” she beamed in her most gracious way.

“And you will not be angry with Iris any more--quite forgive her, in fact?”

“I suppose I shall have to,” Lady Dearn smiled again; “though the dear child really has behaved very badly. I am afraid she is most unbecomingly, most shockingly in love with your son.”

“If only more women loved their husbands like that, men would be a happier race,” commented the earl. “But,” he continued, rising, “I must not detain you any longer. I am going to send my cable at once--may I take yours for Iris at the same time? It would be nice if they received them simultaneously, don’t you think?”

Lady Dearn heartily agreed.

She went over to a small inlaid writing table, wrote out her message, then handed it to her companion to read. “Will that do?” she asked with her most winning smile.

“Yes, splendidly! Now our young people will be happy.”

* * * * *

Half-an-hour afterwards both telegrams had been despatched to Australia.

On his way home the Earl of Strathfell leant comfortably back in his magnificent car, and there was a glad light in his handsome grey eyes as he looked out unseeingly on the noisy traffic-laden streets.