and entirely faithful in her heart, a one-man woman.”
“And you resent that?” inquired Berenice.
“On the contrary, I think it beautiful. The only trouble is that up to now I haven’t been that way.”
“And will not be, I’m thinking,” Berenice twitted him.
“Silence!” he pleaded. “No arguments! Let me finish, dear. She cannot see why, because I loved her so much at one time, I should not continue to do so. In fact, her sorrow has now turned into something like hatred, I’m afraid, or she tries to make herself think that it has. The worst part of it is that it’s all tied up with her pride in being my wife. She wanted to shine socially, and I wished her to at first because I had the notion that it would be best for both of us. But I soon learned that Aileen was not clever enough. I gave up the idea of trying in Chicago. New York, I thought, was much more important, the real city for a man of wealth. And so I decided to try there. I was beginning to think I might not always want to live with Aileen, but, if you will believe it, that was after I saw your picture in Louisville—the one I have in my pocket. It was only after that that I decided to build the house in New York, and make it into an art gallery as well as a residence. And then, eventually, if you ever became interested in me . . .”
“And so the great house that I am never to occupy was built for me,” mused Berenice. “How strange!”
“Life is like that,” said Cowperwood. “But we can be happy.”
“I know that,” she said. “I was merely thinking of the strangeness of it. And I wouldn’t disturb Aileen for anything.”
“You are both liberal and wise, I know. You will perhaps manage things better than I could.”
“I believe I can manage,” returned Berenice calmly.
“But besides Aileen, there are the newspapers. They follow me everywhere. And once they hear of this London idea, assuming that I undertake it, there’ll be fireworks! And if ever your name becomes connected with mine, you’ll be pursued as a chicken is by hawks. One solution might be for me to adopt you, or maybe carry this idea of my being your guardian on into England. That would give me the right to be with you and to pretend to be looking after your property. What do you think?”
“Well, yes,” she said slowly. “I can’t see any other way. But that London matter will have to be thought out very carefully. And I am not thinking of myself alone.”
“I’m sure of it,” replied Cowperwood, “but with a little luck, we should get by. One of the things we must do is to avoid being seen together too much, I suppose. But first of all, we must think of a way to distract the attention of Aileen. For, of course, she knows all about you. Because of my contact with you and your mother in New York, she has suspected for a long time that there was an intrigue between us. I was never in a position to tell you that; you didn’t seem to like me well enough.”
“Didn’t really know you well enough,” corrected Berenice. “You were too much of an enigma.”
“And now . . .?”
“Just as much so as ever, I fear.”
“I doubt that. In regard to Aileen, though, I have no solution. She is so suspicious. As long as I am here in this country, and appear in New York occasionally, she doesn’t seem to mind. But if I left, and appeared to be settling in London, and the newspapers discussed it . . .” he paused, meditating.
“You’re afraid she will talk, or follow you and make a scene—something of that sort?”
“It’s hard to say what she might or might not do. With a little diversion of some sort, she might not do anything. On the other hand, and particularly since she’s taken to drinking in the last few years, she might do anything. Several years ago, in one of her brooding fits, and when she was drinking, she tried to kill herself.” (Berenice frowned.) “I prevented that by breaking in and talking rather forcibly to her.” He described the scene, but did not picture himself as uncompromising as he had been.
Berenice listened, convinced at last of Aileen’s undying love, and feeling that now she was adding one more thorn to her inescapable crown. Only, as she reasoned, nothing that she could do would change Cowperwood. As for herself, and her desire for some sort of revenge on society . . . well, she cared for him, too. She really did. He was like a strong drug. His mental as well as his physical charm was enormous, really irresistible. The important thing was to achieve this constructive relationship without doing any additional harm to Aileen.
She paused, thinking, and then said: “It is a real problem, isn’t it? But we have a little time to consider it. Let it go for a day or two. She is certainly on my mind, all of the time . . .” She looked at Cowperwood, wide-eyed, thoughtfully and affectionately, a faint and yet cheering smile playing about her mouth. “Together we’ll manage, I know.”
She rose from her chair by the fire, walked over to sit on his lap, began to rumple his hair.
“All problems are not financial, are they?” she said, quizzically, touching his forehead with her lips.
“They certainly are not,” he replied lightly, cheered by her affectionate sympathy and encouragement.
And then, for diversion, he suggested that since there had been a heavy snowfall the previous day, a sleigh ride would be a delightful way to end the day. He knew of a charming inn on the North Shore, where they might have dinner beside the lake under a winter moon.
Returning late that night, Berenice sat alone in her room before the fire, thinking and planning. She had already telegraphed her mother to come to Chicago at once. She would have her go to a certain North Side hotel and register for both of them. With her mother there, she could outline the course which she and Cowperwood had in mind.
What troubled her most, however, was Aileen, alone in that great house in New York, with youth, if not beauty, gone forever, and recently, as Berenice had noticed, suffering the handicap of too much flesh, which apparently she had not troubled to overcome. Her clothes, too, ran more to richness and show than to real taste. Years, physical appearance, and lack of a gifted mentality: all of them made it impossible for Aileen to contend against one like Berenice. But never, as she told herself, would she be cruel, however vengeful Aileen might be. Rather, she proposed to be as generous as possible, and also she would not countenance the least cruelty or even thoughtlessness on Cowperwood’s part, if she could detect it in time. Actually, she felt sorry for Aileen, very sorry, realizing how she must be feeling in her torn and discarded heart, for already, as young as she was, she herself had suffered, and her mother also. Their wounds were still all too fresh.
Hence, the thing to do, as she now decided, was to play as subdued and inconspicuous a role as possible in Cowperwood’s life, going about with him, true enough, since that was his greatest desire and need, but without being identified too clearly. If only there were some way of diverting Aileen’s mind from her present ills, and so keep her from hating Cowperwood, and, once she knew all, Berenice herself.
At first she thought of religion, or rather, wondered if there were not a priest or minister whose religious counsel might be of benefit to Aileen. There were always such well-disposed, if politic, souls, who for a bequest, or the hope of it, at her death, might gladly minister to her. Back in New York, as she recalled, was such a person: the Reverend Willis Steele, Rector of St. Swithin’s of the Episcopal Diocese of New York. She had occasionally visited his church, more to dream over the simple architecture and agreeable service than to plead with God. The Reverend Willis was middle-aged, airy, bland, attractive, but without much money, although possessed of a high degree of social polish. She recalled him as once having approached her, but further thought of him only caused her to smile, and she dismissed the idea. But surely Aileen needed to be looked after by someone.
Suddenly she bethought herself at this point of one of those affable social ne’er-do-wells so common in New York society, who, for enough cash or entertainment, might be relied upon to create a fairly gay, if not exactly conventional, social scene about Aileen, and thus divert her, for the time being, anyhow. But how to go about reaching and influencing such a person to that end?
Berenice