CHAPTER X
HER GRACE OF WILMOT
On a certain morning, between twelve and one o'clock, the inhabitantsof Graham Square must have felt some slight astonishment as a carriageand pair of horses dashed up to No. 17. On the panels of the carriagewere seen the coronet, with the eight strawberries, which denotes theducal rank. The coachman and footman were also in the well-knownlivery of the Duke of Wilmot. One of the servants got down, rang thebell, and a moment later the Duchess swept gracefully into thedrawing-room, where mother and I happened to be alone. She came up tous with both hands outstretched.
"My dears," she said, glancing round, "are they all out?"
"I am so glad to see you, Victoria," replied mother; "but whom do youmean? Sit down, won't you?"
The Duchess sank into the nearest chair. She really looked quitenervous.
"Are the boarders out?" she said again; "I could not encounter them. Iconsidered the whole question, and thought that at this hour theywould, in all probability, be shopping or diverting themselves insome way. Ah, Westenra, let me look at you."
"But do you really want to look at me, Duchess?" I asked somewhataudaciously.
"I see you have lost none of your spirit," said the Duchess, and shepatted me playfully with a large fan which she wore at her side."There, sit down in that little chair opposite, and tell me all abouteverything. How is this--this curious concern going?"
"You can see for yourself," I answered; "this room is not exactly anattic, is it?"
"No, it is a very nice reception-room," said the Duchess, glancingapprovingly around her. "It has, my dear Mary--forgive me for theremark--a little of the Mayfair look; a large room, too, nearly aslarge as our rooms in Grosvenor Place."
"Not quite as large," I replied, "and it is not like your rooms,Duchess, but it does very well for us, and it is certainly better andmore stimulating than a cottage in the country."
"Ah, Westenra, you are as terribly independent as ever," said theDuchess. "What the girls of the present day are coming to!" She sighedas she spoke.
"But you are a very pretty girl all the same," she continued, givingme an approving nod. "Yes, yes, and this phase will pass, of course itwill pass."
"Why have you come to see us to-day, Victoria?" asked my mother.
"My dear friend," replied the Duchess, dropping her voice, "I havecome to-day because I am devoured with curiosity. I mean to drop inoccasionally. Just at present, and while the whole incident is freshin the minds of our friends, you would scarcely like me to ask you tomy receptions, but by-and-by I doubt not it can be managed. The factis, I admire you both, and very often think of you. The Duke also isgreatly tickled at the whole concern; I never saw him laugh soheartily about anything. He says that, as to Westenra, she isdownright refreshing; he never heard of a girl of her stamp doing thissort of thing before. He thinks that she will make a sort ofmeeting-place, a sort of bond between the West and the--the--no, notthe East, but this sort of neutral ground where the middle-classpeople live."
The Duchess looked round the big room, and then glanced out at theSquare.
"Harrison had some difficulty in finding the place," she said, "butthe British Museum guided him; it is a landmark. Even we people ofMayfair go to the British Museum sometimes. It is colossal andnational, and you live close to it. Do you often study there,Westenra? Don't go too often, for stooping over those old books givesgirls such a poke. But you really look quite comfortable here."
"We are delightfully comfortable," I said. "We enjoy our livesimmensely."
"It is very nice to see you, Victoria," said mother.
Then I saw by the look on mother's face that while I had supposed herto be perfectly happy, all this time she had been more or lesssuffering. She had missed the people of her own kind. The Duchesslooked her all over.
"You are out of your element here, Mary," she said, "and so is thischild. It is a preposterous idea, a sort of freak of nature. I neverthought Westenra would become odd; she bids fair to be very odd. Idon't agree with the Duke. I don't care for odd people, they don'tmarry well as a rule. Of course there are exceptions. I said so to theDuke when----"
"When what?" I said, seeing that she paused.
"Nothing, my love, nothing. I have come here, Westenra, to let you andyour mother know that whenever you like to step up again I will giveyou a helping hand."
"Oh, we are never going back to the old life," I said. "We could notafford it, and I don't know either that we should care to live as wedid--should we, Mummy? We know our true friends now."
"That is unkind, my child. The fact is, it is the idea of the_boarding-house_ that all your friends shrink from. If you and yourmother had taken a nice house in the country, not a large andexpensive house, but a fairly respectable one, with a little groundround, I and other people I know might have got ladies to live withyou and to pay you well. Our special friends who wanted change andquiet might have been very glad to go to you for two or three weeks,but you must see for yourselves, both of you, that this sort of thingis impossible. Nevertheless, I came here to-day to say that whenever,Westenra, you step up, you will find your old friend----"
"And godmother," I said.
"And godmother," she repeated, "willing to give you a helping hand."
"When you became my godmother," I said slowly (oh, I know I was veryrude, but I could not quite help myself), "you promised for me, didyou not, that I should not love the world?"
The Duchess gazed at me out of her round, good-humoured brown eyes.
"We all know just what that means," she said.
"No, we do not," I answered. "I think very few people do know orrealise it in the very least. Now stepping back again might mean theworld; perhaps mother and I would rather stay where we are."
As I spoke I got up impatiently and walked to one of the windows, andjust then I saw Mr. Randolph coming up the steps. As a rule he wasseldom in to lunch; he was an erratic individual, always sleeping inthe house, and generally some time during the day having a little chatwith mother, but for the rest he was seldom present at any of ourmeals except late dinner. Why was he coming to lunch to-day? I heardhis step on the stairs, he had a light, springy step, the drawing-roomdoor opened and he came in.
"Ah, Jim," said the Duchess, "I scarcely expected to see you here."
She got up and held out her hand; he grasped it. I thought his facewore a peculiar expression. I am not quite certain about this, for Icould not see him very well from where I was standing, but I didnotice that the Duchess immediately became on her guard. She droppedhis hand and turned to mother.
"I met Mr. Randolph last year in Italy," she said.
Mother now entered into conversation with them both, and I stood bythe window looking out into the square, and wondering why the Duchesshad coloured when she saw him. Why had she called him Jim? If she onlymet him last year abroad it was scarcely likely that she would beintimate enough to speak to him by his Christian name. A moment latershe rose.
"You may take me down to my carriage, Jim," she said. "Good-bye,Westenra; you are a naughty girl, full of defiance, and you think yourold godmother very unkind, but whenever you step up I shall be waitingto help you. Good-bye, good-bye. Oh hurry, please, Mr. Randolph, someof those creatures may be coming in. Good-bye, dear, good-bye."
She nodded to mother, laid her hand lightly on Mr. Randolph's arm,who took her down and put her into her carriage. They spoke togetherfor a moment, I watched them from behind the drawing-room curtains,then the carriage rolled away, and the square was left to its usualsolid respectability. Doctors' carriages did occasionally drivethrough it, and flourishing doctors drove a pair of horses as often asnot, but the strawberry on the panels showed itself no more for many along day in that region.
At lunch the boarders were in a perfect state of ferment. Even Captainand Mrs. Furlong were inclined to be subservient. Did we really knowthe Duchess of Wilmot? Captain Furlong was quite up in the annals ofthe nobility. This was one of his little weaknesses, for he was
quitein every sense of the word a gentleman; but he did rather air hisknowledge of this smart lady and of that whom he had happened to meetin the course of his wanderings.
"There are few women I admire more than the Duchess of Wilmot," hesaid to mother, "she is so charitable, so good. She was a Silchester,you know, she comes of a long and noble line. For my part, I believestrongly in heredity. Have you known the Duchess long, Mrs. Wickham?"
"All my life," answered mother simply.
"Really! All your life?"
"Yes," she replied, "we were brought up in the same village."
The servant came up with vegetables, and mother helped herself.Captain Furlong looked a little more satisfied.
Mrs. Armstrong gave me a violent nudge in the side.
"I suppose your mother was the clergyman's daughter?" she said. "Thegreat people generally patronise the daughters of the clergy in theplaces where they live. I have often noticed it. I said so to Marionlast night. I said, if only, Marion, you could get into that set, youwould begin to know the upper ten, clergymen are so respectable; butMarion, if you'll believe it, will have nothing to do with them. Shesays she would not be a curate's wife for the world. What I say isthis, she wouldn't always be a curate's wife, for he would be sure toget a living, and if he were a smart preacher, he might be a deanby-and-by, or even a bishop, just think of it. But Marion shuts hereyes to all these possibilities, and says that nothing would give hergreater torture than teaching in Sunday-school and having mothers'meetings. With her h'artistic soul I suppose it is scarcely to beexpected that she should take to that kind of employment. And yourmother was the clergyman's daughter, was she not?"
"No," I answered. I did not add any more. I did not repeat either thatthe Duchess happened to be my godmother. I turned the conversation.
Mr. Randolph sat near mother and talked to her, and soon other thingsoccupied the attention of the boarders, and the Duchess's visit ceasedto be the topic of conversation.
On the next evening but one, Mr. Randolph came to my side.
"I heard your mother say, Miss Wickham, that you are both fond of thetheatre. Now I happen to have secured, through a friend, three ticketsfor the first night of Macbeth. I should be so glad if you would allowme to take you and Mrs. Wickham to the Lyceum."
"And I should like it, Westenra," said mother--she came up while hewas speaking. Miss Armstrong happened to be standing near, and I amsure she overheard. Her face turned a dull red, she walked a step ortwo away. I thought for a moment. I should have greatly preferred torefuse; I was beginning, I could not tell why, to have an uneasyfeeling with regard to Mr. Randolph--there was a sort of mystery abouthis staying in the house, and why did the Duchess know him, and whydid she call him Jim. But my mother's gentle face and the longing inher eyes made me reply--
"If mother likes it, of course I shall like it. Thank you very muchfor asking us."
"I hope you will enjoy it," was his reply, "I am glad you will come."He did not allude again to the matter, but talked on indifferentsubjects. We were to go to the Lyceum on the following evening.
The next day early I went into mother's room. Mother was not at all asstrong as I could have wished. She had a slight cough, and there was afaded, fagged sort of look about her, a look I had never seen when welived in Mayfair. She was subject to palpitations of the heart too,and often turned quite faint when she went through any additionalexertion. These symptoms had begun soon after our arrival at 17 GrahamSquare. She had never had them in the bygone days, when her friendscame to see her and she went to see them. Was mother too old for thistransplanting? Was it a little rough on her?
Thoughts like these made me very gentle whenever I was in my dearmother's presence, and I was willing and longing to forget myself, ifonly she might be happy.
"What kind of day is it, Westenra?" she said the moment I put in anappearance. She was not up yet, she was lying in bed supported bypillows. Her dear, fragile beautiful face looked something like themost delicate old porcelain. She was sipping a cup of strong soup,which Jane Mullins had just sent up to her.
"O Mummy!" I said, kissing her frantically, "are you ill? What is thematter?"
"No, my darling, I am quite as well as usual," she answered, "a littleweak, but that is nothing. I am tired sometimes, Westenra."
"Tired, but you don't do a great deal," I said.
"That's just it, my love, I do too little. If I had more to do Ishould be better."
"More visiting, I suppose, and that sort of thing?" I said.
"Yes," she answered very gently, "more visiting, more variety, moreexchange of ideas--if it were not for Mr. Randolph."
"You like him?" I said.
"Don't you, my darling?"
"I don't know, mother, I am not sure about him. Who is he?"
"A nice gentlemanly fellow."
"Mother, I sometimes think he is other than what he seems, we knownothing whatever about him."
"He is a friend of Jane Mullins's," said mother.
"But, mother, how can that be? He is not really a friend of JaneMullins's. Honest little Jane belongs essentially to the people. Youhave only to look from one face to the other to see what a wide gulfthere is between them. He is accustomed to good society; he is a manof the world. Mother, I am certain he is keeping something to himself.I cannot understand why he lives here. Why should he live here?"
"He likes it," answered mother. "He enjoys his many conversations withme. He likes the neighbourhood. He says Bloomsbury is far more healthythan Mayfair."
"Mother, dear, is it likely that such a man would think much about hishealth."
"I am sorry you are prejudiced against him," said mother, and afretful quaver came into her voice. "Well," she added, "I am glad theday is fine, we shall enjoy our little expedition this evening."
"But are you sure it won't be too much for you?"
"Too much! I am so wanting to go," said mother.
"Then that is right, and I am delighted."
"By the way," continued mother, "I had a note this morning from Mr.Randolph; he wants us to dine with him first at the Hotel Cecil."
"Mother!"
"Yes, darling; is there any objection?"
"Oh, I don't like it," I continued; "why should we put ourselves underan obligation to him?"
"I do not think, Westenra, you need be afraid; if I think it right togo you need have no scruples."
"Of course I understand that," I answered, "and if it were any oneelse I should not think twice about it. If the Duchess, for instance,asked us to dine with her, and if she took us afterwards to thetheatre I should quite rejoice, but I am puzzled about Mr. Randolph."
"Prejudiced, you mean, dear; but never mind, you are young. As long asyou have me with you, you need have no scruples. I have written a lineto him to say that we will be pleased to dine with him. He is to meetus at the hotel, and is sending a carriage for us here. I own I shallbe very glad once in a way to eat at a table where Mrs. Armstrong isnot."
"I have always tried to keep Mrs. Armstrong out of your way, mother."
"Yes, darling; but she irritates me all the same. However, she is agood soul, and I must learn to put up with her. Now then, West, whatwill you wear to-night?"
"Something very quiet," I answered.
"One of your white dresses."
"I have only white silk, that is too much."
"You can make it simpler; you can take away ornaments and flowers. Iwant to see you in white again. I am perfectly tired of that blackdress which you put on every evening."
I left mother soon afterwards, and the rest of the day proceeded inthe usual routine. I would not confess even to myself that I was gladI was going to the Lyceum with Mr. Randolph and mother, but when I sawa new interest in her face and a brightness in her voice, I tried tobe pleased on her account. After all, she was the one to beconsidered. If it gave her pleasure it was all as it should be.
When I went upstairs finally to dress for this occasion, which seemedin the eyes of Jane Mullin
s to be a very great occasion, she (Jane)followed me to my door. I heard her knock on the panels, and told herto come in with some impatience in my voice.
"Now that is right," she said; "I was hoping you would not put on thatdismal black. Young things should be in white."
"Jane," I said, turning suddenly round and speaking with greatabruptness, "what part of the cake do you suppose Mr. Randolphrepresents?"
Jane paused for a moment; there came a twinkle into her eyes.
"Well, now," she said, "I should like to ask you that question myself,say in a year's time."
"I have asked it of you now," I said; "answer, please."
"Let's call him the nutmeg," said Jane. "We put nutmeg into some kindsof rich cake. It strikes me that the cake of this establishment isbecoming very rich and complicated now. It gives a rare flavour, doesnutmeg, used judiciously."
"I know nothing about it," I answered with impatience. "What part ofthe cake is mother?"
"Oh, the ornamental icing," said Jane at once; "it gives tone to thewhole."
"And I, Jane, I?"
"A dash of spirit, which we put in at the end to give the subtleflavour," was Jane's immediate response.
"Thank you, Jane, you are very complimentary."
"To return to your dress, dear, I am glad you are wearing white."
"I am putting on white to please mother," I replied, "otherwise Ishould not wear it. To tell the truth, I never felt less disposed foran evening's amusement in my life."
"Then that is extremely wrong of you, Westenra. They are all envyingyou downstairs. As to poor Miss Armstrong, she would give her eyes togo. They are every one of them in the drawing-room, and dressed intheir showiest, and it has leaked out that you won't be there, norMrs. Wickham, nor--nor Mr. Randolph, and that I'll be the only one tokeep the place in order to-night. I do trust those attic boarderswon't get the better of me, for I have a spice of temper in me when Iam roused, and those attics do rouse me sometimes almost beyondendurance. As I said before, we get too much of the attic element inthe house, and if we don't look sharp the cake will be too heavy."
"That would never do," I replied. I was hurriedly fastening on mywhite dress as I spoke. It was of a creamy shade, and hung in gracefulfolds, and I felt something like the Westenra of old times as Igathered up my fan and white gloves, and wrapped my opera cloak roundme. I was ready. My dress was simplicity itself, but it suited me. Inoticed how slim and tall I looked, and then ran downstairs,determined to forget myself and to devote the whole evening to makingmother as happy as woman could be.
Mother was seated in the drawing-room, looking stately, a littlenervous, and very beautiful. The ladies of the establishment werefussing round her. They had already made her into a sort of queen, andshe certainly looked regal to-night.
The servant came up and announced that the carriage was waiting. Wewent downstairs. It was a little brougham, dull chocolate in colour. Acoachman in quiet livery sat on the box; a footman opened the door forus. The brougham was drawn by a pair of chestnuts.
"Most unsuitable," I murmured to myself. "What sort of man is Mr.Randolph?"
Mother, however, looked quite at home and happy in the littlebrougham. She got in, and we drove off. It was now the middle ofNovember, and I am sure several faces were pressed against the glassof the drawing-room windows as we were whirled rapidly out of theSquare.