VELVET AND STEEL

Auckland Star, Volume LXVII, Issue 21, 25 January 1936, Page 10 (Supplement)

VELVET AND STEEL

Br PEARL BELLAIRS.

THE REMARKABLE ROMANCE OF AN INDUSTRIAL DICTATOR.

CHAPTER XIX. Submission. Precisely at twelve o'clock Piers Hanlien's car was waiting outside the house in Hooley Street. Joan nearly drew back at the last moment, when, as she put on licr hat, she saw the car standing there, j She must go down to it, get into it, surrender herself for ever to Ha mien, whom she had fought for so long. But she saw now that there were other things beside the freedom for which she had struggled; she looked ahead, and if she could only endure through the hours before her, a rosy future lay beyond them. She went down to the car, where the chauffeur was waiting for her. She kissed her mother very tenderly, telling her to let the factory know that Denby had been called away to see a sick relative and might be gone indefinitely. Mrs. Denby and Joan clung to one another, and then Joan tore herself away and got into the car behind the chauffeur. They drove away, out of familiar Poplar, and along the well-known Commercial Road. How strange she felt, a bride going to such a wedding as this! Even lier costume was not new as a bride's should be, but was one that she had worn before, though she had only recently made it, in imitation of a muchadmired model which had been created at the Salon Celeste. No one indeed could have told that the salon had not made the one she wore, and she knew that she looked well in it. She thought, with a smile, that it would have served Piers right if she had turned up at the church looking a perfect freak! "When the car arrived at the church, she almost seized her final chance and fled. But as the car drew up she saw a crowd on the pavement, and a dozen different press cameras ranged along the pavement. Of course, when Piers Hannen got married everyone had to know. It was an event in the social world. Feeling rather shaky in the knees Joan walked up the aisle on the arm of Sir Vincent Morton. There by the altar stood Hannen. waiting for her with the white robed vicar, while at his side was Lord Edward Blagli—Lord Edward, then, was to be Hannen's best man! But Joan had eyes only for Hannen; what she wanted to relieve her faintness was some reassuring glance from him, some glimpse of kindness, of ruth or

mercy. But though he was pale, though she was sure that his bronzed face had not its usual colour, ho looked calm; his blue eyes were cold, unsmiling, pitiless. He spoke with a smile to Lord Edward, but there was no smile for Joan. And though she fanced that perhaps all this hid some inner desperation there was a grim triumph in his bearing as he took his stand beside her before the altar. Now it was happening. Now there was no escape. She trembled as she stood there, with watching eyes all round her, in the hush as the clergyman began to speak. Everyone noticed how pale the eweet faced bride was, lovely little figure that she was, standing there beside the tall, powerfully-built bridegroom. A ray of sunshine struck through the dim light of the church, lighting up her face and her hands, whoso trembling imparted' a slight tremor to the flowers she held. At the words: "Wilt thou take this man to be thy wedded husband . . ." she looked up at Piers and said in a clear, firm voice: "I will!" But her eyes were so blurred with tears that she could not se him; he was only a tall, implacable figure standing over her. "I will," she said aloud, but within her her heart cried out to him: "Be kind to me! Be kind to me!" When it was his turn to say "I will," he said it in so implacable a tone that the two words seemed to express his whole indomitable philosophy. There rang through Joan's memory the words he had once said to Lord Edward—poor Lord Edward, who was standing there behind them, who had loved, her once and was now compelled to look on at this.

"Edward," Piers Hannen had said, long ago on the day on which Joan first had met him, aboard the yacht Corsair, "I go where I like, I do what I want — and what I want I take!" She felt him take her hand and slip the ring on her finger. Then his lips touched her brow. "What I want I take!" Joan needed Piers' arm to hold her up when she took it to walk away along the aisle —his wife for better or worse. Georgina kissed her; people shook her hand and congratulated her. She heard them congratulating Hannen; she heard his voice talking easily and cheerfully, and everyone laughing at what he said. But when she glanced at him she saw a terrible weariness in his eyes, and though she was near to him he neither looked at nor spoke to her. Well, he had gone so far! And she had had' a fancy that at the last moment he might let her off! They wrote their names in the book Jin the vestry. And as she signed herself "Denby," Joan realised for the first time that though it was legally hers, she had no right to the name. So strange—so strange! She wondered what Piers would say if he knew of her illegitimacy; the thought struck a pang into her, but perhaps if a man would go to such terrible lengths as he was going in order to get her, he would not trouble much about a thing like that. She found herself standing with her hand in Miss la Fontaine's; it was very odd too, to know that Georgie was her aunt. This, then, explained all that Georgie had done for her, for she had been very fond of that adventurous brother who had died in the attempt to conquer the Pole.

"Hajjpy, darling?" said Miss la Fontaine, looking at lici\ tenderly. "How pale you are! But you look lovely— Piers, how lovely she looks, doesn't she?" "Exquisite!" said Piers, succinctly. "I'm going to take her away now." "We're never to have her any more?" cried Georgina, playfully. "My dear, you have married a terrible brute—just look at his face! You told me he was a brute, but I never believed you until ■now." Taking Hannen's hand, she shook it, saying: "My dear boy, how lucky you are! And I would not have given her to anyone but to you!" Glancing at Joan she added: "The dear child is getting paler and paler —hurry up and get away, Piers. There are battalions of photographers outside, and quite a crowd has collected. Good-bye, my darling Joan—good-bye!" Joan went down the church steps on Hannen's armj sho tried to smile, and

she did smile a little, for the benefit of the cameras and the interested onlookers. And then they were in the car. Hannen in the driver's seat now, and tlie chauffeur out on the pavement. Joan saw Georgina's face smiling through tears; waved to Lord Edward, and the little crowd of friends on the steps of the church, and then the car glided

away. She was alone with this dauntless and formidable man whom she feared so much—and yet, perversely, loved. Pale, but hard faced, and with a glance of cold mockery, he said:

"Now you can cry as much as you like! There's no one to see!" It was cruel. But she was determined that he should not see that it hurt her, and she replied as soon as she could succeed in keeping her voice level: "No: I'm more inclined to smile, I think. It seems so odd to go away in so much style—and not to know where one is going!" "We're going to the dower house at Stenning." "I've heard that it's a most beautiful old place," said Joan. "Well, it's yours now. You are mistress of it—and of Stenning Court. I suppose it must be some consolation to you to be able to think of that." "I rather wonder whether there would be room for a mistress, Piers, in any place of which you are master!" said Joan, with a faint smile. She felt better now, calmer, though all the time she was wondering whether he intended to go 011 with his jilan to the end. "Oh, yes!" he replied calmly, with a cynical laugh. "After I've had my way, you can then have yours. Those are the terms on which people work with me!" "Are you still trying," she asked gently, "to live up to my idea of the sort of man you were when I firet saw you?" "No!" he said, and his voice was cold, so grim that it sent a shiver through lier. "I am that man Joan! Curious, isn't it? You have managed at last to make me the sort of fellow you thought I was."

The rest of the journey they performed in silence; it lasted not two hours but an hour and a half, for he drove furiously all the way. At half past two he drove through the gates of Stenning Park, and away 011 a hillside to the left among the trees she saw the Tudor mansion which was to be her country home. Her heart might have leaped at the sight of it in any other circumstances, but it was so frightened a heart now that they were nearly at their destination that it would not leap. Soon they passed through a wood of ancient beeches, crossed a winding stream with beautifully planted banks, and ran along a drive which brought them out on to the open lawn before the Stenning Dower House. ' It was an exquisite place, sweet with the secnt of tho old-world garden, and the roses which climbed over the old crookcd eaves. Diamond panes looked out upon lawns and terraces—it was a house to dream about, not too large, a cosy, charming place which must have won the heart of any bride. "How beautiful it is!" thought Joan. "How beautiful!" But her lips trembled so that they could not form any words when Piers Hannen opened the door of the car for her and put out his hand to help her down. His eyes dwelled on her now, still veiled with mockery, but differently —differently—!

"How quiet it is!" said Joan, in a forced voice. And indeed it was, for there was not a sound but the voice of the birds piping in the woods. "As there is no one within two miles of the place," said Hannen, "it's hardly surprising." And when he took the bags out of the car himself, and produced a latchkey as he went tip to the front door, sho understood him. There was no one in the house. Ho threw open the door, and as sho lingered, looking inside with a, breath-taking reluctance, ho suddenly picked her off her feet, swung her over tho threshold, and set her down. As he followed her into the hallway she backci 1 . away from him. He looked at her coldly. "Very well!" he said, adding brutally: "Not now, then, if you prefer it!" 1

Sho saw that she had made another ' mistake. But now sho only wanted to run away. With a distracted desire to escape, sho wandered through the rooms » of the house, looking about, seeing how 1 perfect it all was with tho old furniture, the wonderful oak panelling, the exquisite taste and luxury of tho place; sho would have loved it, had not Hannen made her so miserable. In the dining room was afternoon tea set out on a tea-trolley; and on the table was set a dinner for two, delicious cold dishes, game and salads and sweets, under covers only waiting to be lifted off. Obviously ho had had everything put ready and ordered everyone to be out of tho house before 110 and Joan arrived. Sho went up to tho bedroom, whero a great four-poster bed, curiously carvcd, almost filled tho room; she stood on tiptoo in tho doorway, looking in, almost afraid to enter —and sho saw her own trunks, those that Miss la Fontaine had promised to dispatch for her, standing in the corner. In panic she turned and ran down tho stairs, where she came face to face with Hannen in the hall. "Nico house ?" he asked, in a formal voice. "Yes, it's wonderful!" She went out to look at the garden, and he walked round with her. She found that ho knew a great deal about gardens, and he told her tho name of many flowers that she did not know; all in tho same cold, formal voice. He took her into the hothouse. "You'll like this!" he said. And there, in tho warmth of tho afternoon sun was a daphne bush in full flower. The sccnt of it filled the place. It brought such memories to Joan's mind that she forgot everything; and sho turned from her contemplation of the lovely plant to look at Hannen with eyes in which there was an agony of appeal. He picked a twig of daphne, and presented it to her with a smile and a slight bow. "Senorita!" ho said; and added in a ; hard, uncompromising tone: "Or rather, I should say—Senora!" 1

His eyes, returning lier look, were utterly unrelenting. TVcmbling, she fastened the sprig of daphne into her coat, and went out of the greenhouse*. He followed. Silently they went back to the house, and kept up a casual conversation about indifferent subjects while they made a pretence of having afternoon tea. Then even formal conversation was lost between them; and in growing misery Joan saw the sun sink lower as they sat in the sittingroom. She sat down and wrote a letter , to Lydia Vaughn, conscious that it was | po utterly beside the point ir, yiey-of 1

their last conversation, that she would probably never post it. But it passed the time. And then it was time to have dinner.

"Do you want to dress to-night?" he asked her. "Yes —that is, no, as we're alone." "Alone!" he repeated, with a bitter laugh, and added: "Do you remember, Joan, that I told you one day that I'd find us'a spot to ourselves —that we'd clear all the unnecessary people away?" "I remember," said Joan, closing her eyes and feeling fainter than she had done even in the church. "I never thought that I'd have to resort to such methods to do it. Odd, isn't it?" And when they wont into the lighted dining room she saw that his face was deadly pale, though its expression was harder than ever. They sat down, but Joan could not eat, and she refused everything that he offered her, delicious though the food looked. "Drink, then," he said, when she protested that she was. not hungry, and, hoping that it would strengthen her, she let him fill her glass with wine. He, too, she noticed, ate nothing, and they sat there at the table, drinking a little sauterne and breaking up bread without eating much of it. "What a poor imitation of a feast!" he remarked drily when they rose. And now he was smiling again, almost jaunty; his eyes mocked her pale face. "Mrs. Hannen!" he scoffed. In the drawing room Joan sat down and read, or pretended to read, a magazine. He sat opposite with a novel, and as he turned the pages regularly he seemed to be reading it. They hardly spoke; not even now, as during the whole of the time they had been in the house, did he attempt to come near her. Eight o'clock struck—nine o'clock—halfpast nine—ten. He read on. Joan glanced at him covertly now and again; he looked up suddenly, and what she saw in his face made her sick with fear. Panic seized her. Casually she rose, faintly smiling, and remarked with forced cheerfulness: "Half-past ten!" With an appearance of eaoe she put her magazine in its place under a. small Tudor table and went quietly to the door without another glance at Hannen. Closing the door, she stood for a moment motionless, outside it, listening. All was. quiet inside. Silently she tiptoed along the hall towards the open front door; her heart thudding away inside her she stopped again to listen, and hearing nothing she slipped out of the door into the night and down the front steps in panic-stricken haste. A dark figure stepped out from the gloom of the shrubberies beside her, and an arm, strong as iron, barred her way, bringing her to a standstill with a jerk. "Hello!" said Piers. Breathless, she fell back a step. She understood what had happened; he had guessed, he had stepped out of the ga»" den doors of the sitting room, adjoining the front door, in time to stop her as sho made her more cautious exit from the house.

Her breath came in sobs; she turned to go back up the steps, and he followed her, barring her way out through the door. She felt more than anything a fool. To bo so frightened! And of a man one had willingly married! But 110 was so cruel, so deliberately callous and hateful. He put his hand on her arm, with a grip of steel which belied the cheerful amiability of his voice: "The way to your room is up those stairs!" Joan went up, without a word. She switched on the rose-shaded light in the bedroom and sat down on the end of the bed. She heard him return into the sitting room down below. She sat there, in the unfamiliar room, listening. She went and shut the door, and then looked at her trunks, wondering whether to open them. She set her teeth, and going to the smaller trunk found it empty. All her clothes were put out in the drawers, she discovered; and there on the pillow sho caught sight of a neatlyfolded bundle—the pyjamas which had been given to her when she left the Salon Celeste.

She went to them, looked at them, hesitated, and then, picking them up, sank down again on the edge of the bed where she sat, sick with fear and misery' listening. A sob broke from her, another and another burst from her; shaken by bitter weeping she threw herself on her face on the bed, her cheek pillowed in the soft, gleaming satin of the pyjamas. She hardly knew how long it was that 6he lay there crying, but she cried and cried. Sho could not stop. She did not hear Hannen come up the stairs, but she heard him open the door and enter; she sat up on the bed, and keeping her back to him tried to wipe away her tears with the back of her hand. But long, racking sobs still shook her, they could not be concealed or controlled.

He came softly across the room to her, and she threw herself down again, covering her face with her hands in a renewed storm of weeping. Gently, he lifted her up, and folded her in his arms.

t . Don't, Joan!" he said, in a voice of I indescribable emotion. "Don't be afraid! I Don't cry like this! .... Will I never stop loving you? I try to be a blacki guard to bo callous, to pilnish you and , make you ashamed—but in the end it's . all nothing, I only love you more!" : He stroked her hair and kissed her i eyes ivith passionate tenderness. [ When he spoke of loving her she did , not want to get away, when his strength . '" ras , so infinitely gentle she only wanted . to yield to it ... . fe'he could not speak, she could only cling. He took the sprig of daphne from her coat and pushed it into her hair. "Mustn't spoil—your daphne!" he said, jerkily, with a laugh, his eyes ashamed but triumphant as he crushed her to him and found her lips with his. . A long kiss. _ And then he suddenly put her from him; he drew her arms from around his neck, and allowed her to sit clown again on the edge of the bed. Ho would not look at her, but turned his face from her and walked quickly over to the dressing table. He stood there for a moment with his back to her, and as she watched him, wondering, she saw his face reflected in the mirror. It was dark and contorted with emotion. He took his dressing case from where it stood against the wall. Then he turned again to her, and his face, though it still bore the traces of the tremendous internal conflict which had shaken him, was calm. His voice, too, was steady, and even cheerful. "There!" he said. "I'm going. Don't worry." Joan struggled to find words. There was so much that she wanted to say, she was so full of confused protest, that she could not immediately speak, she I could only stare at him. I "I'll send you the necessary evidence as soon as I can possibly arrange it," he went on. "I'll settle two thousand a. year 011 you until -you marry again—or for life, if you like. So you'll have lost nothing." "No!" began Joan, desperately, but Jje cut her protests short.

"You'd better take it. 1 owe it to you . . . have mercy on me, my dear, and take it." He put his hand into his breast pocket and drew out a notecase. Opening it he withdrew some folded sheets of paper which he handed to her. "And you'd better take those," he added. "You'll be happier, I expect, when you've destroyed them." Joan looked at them. They were the two blackmailing letters which Denby had sent to Hannen, and which he believed to constitute the hold he had upon her. She began to smile. "They don't matter any more," she /said, not looking at him, but smoothing

the letters with her forefinger as they lay open on the bed. "You can't get Denby now!" "Why?" The question was startled out of him. "He's gone to America." "When ?" "Last night," replied Joan faintly. There was a tense pause. "What do you mean?" asked Hannen. "Then why—?" Still tracing a pattern on the offending letters with her finger, and not daring to look at him, Joan went on: "He wasn't my father, either, you know!" "Georgina told me that ages ago. But I thought you didn't know; I imagined

that I was tricking you into this u well as forcing you—!" He broke'off "So you knew all the time. You knew' and you —' He came nearer to her and stood over her. "Why did you go on with this!" h e asked, in a voice unlike his owjl , 0 laden was it with overpowerine incredible hope. Joan put out her liana, and blindly taking his, pressed it against her cheek rocking to and fro, while her teara fell as though through his hand she would comfort him for every wound sha W ever given him. THE END.