An Opera and Lady Grasmere/Book 1/Chapter 11
CHAPTER XI.
THEY OPEN WIDER.
"But the society named polite is volatile ... ideas cannot take foot in its ever-shifting soil. It is besides addicted in self-defence to gabble exclusively of the affairs of its rabidly revolving world, as children on a whirligoround bestow their attention on the wooden horse or cradle ahead of them, to escape from giddiness and preserve a notion of identity."
George Meredith, An Essay on Comedy.
"CAPTAIN MILLS," said Merceron, "you mistook me for Captain Mills last night?"
The Countess agreed.
"Shall I thank him; I owe him even more than Hutchinson?"
The door opened, and Merceron was introduced to a man of his own figure, handsome and sunburnt of face, whose neat moustache was trimmed with military precision.
"Awful weather!" said the new-comer, taking a chair.
"Perfectly horrid!" assented Lady Grasmere.
Merceron, though an authority, expressed no opinion.
"It's clearing up, though," said Captain Mills. "I heard you were at the Stoke ball—rather fun wearing masks—what were you in? I hunted for you everywhere, but couldn't find you," he continued, addressing the Countess.
"I was in yellow—it was very amusing," she replied. "Mr. Merceron was in black, and had, I believe, some remarkable adventures," she roguishly added.
"Really?" said the soldier, turning to Harvey.
Harvey however, was equal to the occasion.
"The supper was excellent," he returned, with edifying correctness.
"Going to Goodwood?" asked Captain Mills.
"I haven't decided—I suppose I ought to. You are?" from Lady Grasmere.
"I'm going to the Bassets—he's our Colonel, you know. Lady Basset usually asks half the regiment and all her nieces."
"Dangerous, isn't it?"
"There's safety in numbers. You won't be at Cowes?" asked the Captain.
"No, I think not."
"You never are."
Here the man interrupted them, announcing the Marchioness of Stoke and Lady May Draper.
"Shocking weather!" said the Marchioness, as the circle widened. Lady May drawled in sympathy, and Merceron at once recognised the pink domino whom he had so effectually routed the night before. The Marchioness, he already knew for his hostess.
"Shocking weather!" she repeated in a tone suggesting that she looked upon the behaviour of the elements as an offence directly aimed against her own person. "Most unpleasant!"
"But it's clearing, is it not?" replied Lady Grasmere. "Your dance was perfectly lovely, Marchioness; even Captain Mills says it was delightful, and he's quite spoiled."
The Marchioness, pausing in her inspection of Merceron, responded with a faded smile.
"I didn't quite catch his name last night?" she said in a loud whisper to the Countess, who enlightened her. Lady Stoke repeated it. The name had a pleasant sound, but was unfamiliar.
Lady May, meanwhile, was telling the others how she had come across a terribly rude man the night before.
"I wish I knew who it was!" she concluded vindictively.
Merceron, however, rendered her no assistance.
The Marchioness was monopolising Lady Grasmere.
"When are you leaving town?" she was asking. "We 're staying till Goodwood: of course you 'll be there?"
"I really haven't quite decided; it's such a long way off, you know," came in reply.
"A fortnight, my dear Gertrude,—and everything's being snapped up."
The remainder of the party was deep in racing matters. Lady May had just asked Harvey whether he preferred Ascot to Goodwood, and he had startled his audience by confessing that he knew nothing of either, that he had only seen a fraction of a race in his lifetime, and that by sheer accident. He gave an account of this latter experience; how, as a small boy, he was once exploring Brighton Downs, when, in a deserted spot, he inadvertently stumbled across a group of mounted jockeys, who took to their heels at his approach. On reflection, it had occurred to him that he must have witnessed a "start."
Lady May received this explanation with her customary Arctic smile. Captain Mills was greatly amused. They evidently mistook Merceron's plain statement of fact for some peculiarly waggish piece of humour.
Here they were again interrupted by the man, who ushered in Lady Horace Waring.
A young and very pretty woman—Merceron distinctly remembered having seen photographs of her in shop windows,—perfectly dressed, smart as a new pin, joined them.
"Dreadful weather; but it's clearing up," she said, advancing towards Lady Grasmere. "Marchioness, everybody's raving about your dance—so original, you know!—such fun being masked and flirting with one's own husband. Mine kissed me, the wretch! Wonder who he thought I was?"
"Rather poor fun, kissing a mask," suggested Harvey.
"There now—he's quite spoilt it!" exclaimed Lady Horace.
She was one of the most amusing women in Society, and her veracity, though frequently questioned, was rarely improved upon. She was the first, however, to laugh at her own undoing, and the others quickly followed suit.
"Who is he, Gertrude?" she asked of Lady Grasmere.
The Countess told her,
"One of the Hertfordshire Mercerons?" she enquired.
"The Hertfordshire Merceron," said Harvey.
"Girls hunt, don't they—your sisters?"
"Yes."
"Pretty girls—don't want much of a lead either," said Lady Horace approvingly; then, volatile as before, in that rather shrill voice of hers, "See you all at Goodwood, I suppose? We 're full up or else some of you would have to come to ours."
Everybody had made definite arrangements save Lady Grasmere and Harvey.
Lady Horace was pained.
"You must come to us, dear—do!" she pleaded; "and Mr. Merceron must come as well—men are always so useful, are they not?" she asked, mischievously confusing Captain Mills with the awkward question.
"They do their best," said he.
"Aren't they ornamental as well?" asked Harvey.
"Only in fancy dress," declared Lady Horace, "and then
She hesitated.
"And then?" pressed Captain Mills.
"And then it's their legs," she whispered.
The Marchioness coughed and mentioned Cowes.
"Calves!" corrected Lady Horace in an audible aside.
"We 've taken a house for the week," continued the Marchioness, disregarding the interruption.
"Is Gertrude coming?" enquired Lady May.
But the Countess had to decline. She was going to Canterbury for the cricket week instead.
"You know, I 've a place in Kent," she explained; "it's a matter of duty. The county will cut me if I don't entertain; we always have done."
The Marchioness was sorry. She and Lady May rose to leave.
"We 're going to the Opera to-night, and it begins so early—that wretched Wagner!" said the former.
"What are they giving?" asked Captain Mills.
"Siegfried; and it starts at half-past seven, and the Marquis will insist on being punctual. He won't dine either, but just has a cup of tea first, and then he eats sandwiches between the acts. He says he can't listen properly if he dines," answered the Marchioness; "only think of it—with those wretched society papers, too!"
Lady Horace comforted her.
"Siegfried is rather fun, though; everybody dresses just like the men in the Prehistoric Peeps," she said, alluding to a well-known series of Punch drawings. "And then there's a dragon that sings bass and pretends to get killed, and a bear and a bird—quite a pantomime. But the music's lovely: Sir Horace heard it the other day, and he came home gushing—gushing like the rock that Moses struck!"
Lady May and her mamma took their departure.
"Rather a stick, that girl," said Captain Mills, as the door closed.
"Pots o' money," said Lady Horace.
"Suppose that's why she puts on the side."
A mischievous light gleamed in Lady Grasmere's eye as she turned to Harvey, and asked:
"How did you find her—you were dancing with her last night?"
Merceron narrated his experience with the pink domino, omitting no detail of their duologue.
"Made her regularly furious, I should think; serve her right," said Lady Horace warmly. "No wonder she doesn't marry—with those manners!"
Captain Mills too was delighted.
"You should have passed her on to me," he said; "do her good, a snubbing o' sorts like that—wonder she didn't find you out just now!"
"Far too silly," said Lady Horace. "Gertrude, I really must—go see you at the Faucits' to-night? And do bring Mrs. Hodgson; I 've quite missed her this afternoon." She gave Harvey a hand. "You're coming for Goodwood, aren't you?" she said. "And you must come and dine first, and say 'How-de-do?' to Sir Horace—mind he does," as she turned again to Lady Grasmere. "Nice boy that!" she whispered; "I'm quite hit. Good-bye, dear!" and she was off.
Captain Mills left shortly afterwards.
"What do you think of us?" asked Lady Grasmere, when she and Harvey were once more alone.
"Rather fun, wasn't it?" he replied.
She was proud of him.
"You really did splendidly," she said. "You 've made quite a conquest of Lady Horace. She doesn't ask everybody to her parties, although one might think she did! Seems to know your people, doesn't she?"
"The girls," said Harvey.
A silence followed. Merceron leaned back, happy. He had forgotten all about the dismal minutes he had spent in the rain, looking out over the dreary Serpentine and leaden sky.
The Countess glanced at the clock.
"Mr. Merceron," she interposed, "will you go home now?
"YOU REALLY DID SPLENDIDLY, SHE SAID."—Page 140.
Harvey's face fell. She smiled it back to a more gracious oval.
"Go home and dress," she continued; "and, if you are very good, you may come back and dine—or take me out. We'd better go out, I want some fresh air; and it's left off raining, hasn't it?"
Merceron looked out of the window.
"It's quite bright," he said.
"Don't be long!" and she accompanied him to the head of the staircase and waved a hand as he disappeared.
At his rooms Merceron found a letter from Hutchinson.
"Dear Harvey," began that youthful mariner,—"Do write and tell me what happened after I left? I shall be at Devonport till Saturday. Did they give you the boot, or did you leave unassisted? I would have looked in this morning to find out, only I had to hurry like steam. Write by return, there's a good chap, and relieve the strain. I'd give a fiver to know what happened.
"C. C. H. Hutchinson."
A lengthy postscript was, however, the most interesting feature of this document.
"By-the-by," Hutchinson had added, "Phipps, a brother-officer, was at your rooms last night. He was up in town on leave as well, and he hunted me down to my aunt's, and she sent him on to your place. He waited a bit; but, as we didn't turn up, he left. I'm sorry we missed him. He's an awfully good sort, and you'd have liked him, because he's musical and all that sort of thing."
"Is he?" commented Harvey, "perhaps that accounts for his helping himself to Isabella!"
He thought the possibilities of this solution over for a moment, then:
"Hang it all! I'm keeping a lady waiting!" he exclaimed, forcibly dismissing the subject and ringing up his man.