A Woman's Estate Read Free

his
face to do what was in my power to keep Francis from ruining himself and
everyone else.”
    “You could not have refused him,” Roger agreed
sympathetically. “I could not have done so myself, but it is a thankless task
you have taken on—and, I am afraid, a hopeless one. You must not blame
yourself, Arthur, if you cannot control Francis’ self-destructive
propensities.”
    “I think I would have refused, though,” Arthur said,
sounding exasperated, “except that I had been told he was on the mend, and I
hoped he would recover. Unfortunately, a second seizure carried him off before
I could see him again and convince him that I was the last person to whom
Francis would attend. That was an odd thing, that second seizure. I spoke to
his physician because I was annoyed at not having been warned, and he said it
took him equally by surprise. The day before, when he saw Lydden, he was ready
to declare him out of danger.”
    “One can never predict that kind of seizure,” Bertram said,
shrugging.
    “That’s true enough,” Roger agreed. “But why would you say
you are the last person to whom Francis would attend? I know you two had
drifted apart, but I didn’t think it was anything more than a divergence of
interests when you went into politics. Had you quarreled with Francis?”
    Arthur laughed wryly. “Again and again, but that meant
nothing. You know Francis never held a grudge. He was sweet tempered, even if
he was bone selfish. No, unfortunately Francis knew I disapproved of his
father’s refusal to pay his debts—”
    “What else could Lydden do?” Roger interrupted. “I know he
had paid in the past. It had been going on for years. Francis would have ruined
him.”
    “You didn’t let me finish,” Arthur complained. “I wanted
Lydden to pay the tradesmen, not the gambling debts. I thought, you see, that
the clubs would expel Francis if he was known not to pay his debts of honor,
and that would put a stop to his gambling.” He shrugged. “You needn’t tell me
it was foolish. It was a long time ago. I was young. And I never could resist
Francis when he came out of one of those fits. He was so pitiful, so
remorseful, so damned earnest when he swore he would never do it again.”
    “ You saved him from debtors’ prison!” Bertram gasped.
“I should have known. Did you think sending him off to America would mend his
ways? Nothing will,” he added bitterly.
    Bertram turned away and walked toward the door, where he
paused to pull the bell cord. While his back was to them, Arthur and Roger
exchanged a swift glance. They had forgotten momentarily that Bertram’s father
had been another Francis. But Bertram senior had not been checked because he
had already been in possession of his estate when his proclivity for drink and
gambling had become evident. He had ruined himself, reducing his wife and son
to penury before he managed to drink himself to death. That was why Bertram was
Arthur’s secretary rather than living on his own property on a comfortable
income.
    Both Roger and Arthur were sorry the subject of Francis had
come up. Arthur was particularly disturbed. He had believed Bertram was
perfectly happy with his work, income, and the comfortable rooms that were
exclusively his in every house Arthur owned. Bertram was free to use any house
at any time, whether Arthur was in residence or not, free to invite guests, to
entertain, in fact, to act in every way as if Arthur’s property were his own.
And every servant on all of Arthur’s estates obeyed Bertram as implicitly as
Arthur—perhaps more implicitly, Arthur thought, since he knew himself to be by
far the more lenient. Yet twice this very afternoon he had been shocked by his
secretary’s bitterness.
    When the footman who came in answer to the bell had been
instructed to have Roger’s horse brought around from the stable, Bertram
rejoined Arthur and Roger, who were talking politics again. A few minutes
later, Arthur walked Roger out the large