CHAPTER TEN.
A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A SOCIAL SUCCESS.
By nine o'clock next morning Lady Carr, becomingly arrayed, wassitting up in bed munching a hearty breakfast, and reflectingaccording to her habit upon yesterday's experiences and to-day'sarrangements.
She had dined with her husband at the Savoy, but the meal had not beenquite such a success as she had anticipated. Juggernaut had treatedher with the restrained courtesy which was habitual to him; but ladieswho are taken out to dinner at the Savoy, even by their husbands,usually expect something more than restrained courtesy. You must beanimated on these occasions--unless of course you happen to be anewly-engaged couple, in which case the world benignantly washes itshands of you--or the evening writes itself down a failure. Juggernauthad not been animated. He had ordered a dinner which to Daphne'sgratification and surprise--she had not credited him with so muchobservation--had consisted almost entirely of her favourite dishes.But he had not sparkled, and sparkle at the Savoy, as alreadyintimated, is essential.
About ten o'clock he had been called away to an important division inthe House, and Daphne had gone on to a party, escorted by herhusband's secretary, factotum, and right-hand man, one Jim Carthew,who arrived from Grosvenor Street in answer to a telephone summons.Carthew was a new friend of Daphne's. She accumulated friends much asa honey-pot accumulates flies, but Jim Carthew counted for more thanmost. They had never met until five weeks ago, for Carthew had alwaysbeen up north engaged on colliery business when Daphne was in London;and when Daphne was at Belton, her husband's old home near Kilchester,Carthew had been occupied by secretarial work in town. But they hadknown one another by name and fame ever since Daphne's marriage, andat last they had met. Daphne was not slow to understand why herhusband, impatient of assistance as he usually was, had alwaysappeared ready to heap labour and responsibility upon these youthfulshoulders. Carthew was barely thirty, but he was perfectly capable ofupholding and furthering his leader's interests in the greatindustrial north; while down south it was generally held thatwhenever he grew tired of devilling for Juggernaut the Party wouldfind him a seat for the asking.
But so far Carthew seemed loth to forsake the man who had taught himall he knew. He cherished a theory, somewhat unusual in a rising man,that common decency requires of a pupil that he shall repay hismaster, at the end of the period of instruction, by a period ofpersonal service.
He was a freckle-faced youth, with a frank smile of considerablelatitude, and a boyish zeal for the healthy pursuits of life. Hepossessed brains and character, as any man must who served underJuggernaut; and like his master he was a shrewd judge of men. Of hiscapacity for dealing with women Daphne knew less; but she had alreadyheard rumours--confidences exchanged over teacups and behind fans--ofa certain Miss Nina Tallentyre, perhaps the acknowledged beauty ofthat season, at the flame of whose altar Jim Carthew was said to havesinged his wings in a conspicuously reckless fashion. But all this wasthe merest hearsay, and Daphne was unacquainted with the lady into thebargain. Possibly it was with a view to remedying this deficiency inher circle of acquaintance that she kept Jim Carthew at her side forthe space of half an hour after they reached Mrs Blankney-Pushkins'reception.
After a couple of waltzes Lady Carr expressed a desire to be fed withices and cream buns.
Mr Carthew assented, but with less enthusiasm than before. Daphnenoticed that his eye was beginning to wander.
"After that," she continued cheerfully, "we will find seats, and youshall tell me who everybody is. I am still rather a country mouse."
"I should think so!" said Carthew, reluctantly recalling his gaze froma distant corner of the refreshment-room. "I beg your pardon! You weresaying?"
"Perhaps there is some one else whom you have promised to dance with,though," continued the country mouse demurely.
Carthew, whose eye had slid stealthily round once more in thedirection of a supper-party in the corner, recovered himselfresolutely, and made the only reply that gallantry permitted.
"That's all right, then," said Daphne. "Tell me who those people are,having supper over there. That man with the fierce black eyes--who ishe? He looks wicked."
"As a matter of fact," said Carthew, resigning himself to his fate,"he is about the most commonplace bore in the room. If he takes a girlin to dinner he talks to her about the weather with the soup, thetable decorations with the fish, and suffragettes with the _entree_.About pudding-time he takes the bit between his teeth and launchesout into a description of the last play he saw--usually _Charley'sAunt_ or _East Lynne_. If he goes to a wedding he refers to the churchas a 'sacred edifice,' and the bride and bridegroom as 'the happycouple.' When he unexpectedly encounters a friend at a sea-sidewatering-place, he observes that 'the world is a very small place.' Athis own funeral (to which I shall send a wreath) he will sit up andthank the mourners for 'this personal tribute of affection andesteem.'"
Daphne sat regarding this exhibition of the art of conversation withsome interest. She observed that Carthew's wits were wandering, andthat with inherent politeness he was exercising a purely mechanicalfaculty to entertain her pending their return. Jim Carthew was a trueBriton in that he hated revealing his deeper thoughts to the eyes ofthe world. But unlike the ordinary Briton who, when his feelings doget the better of him, finds himself reduced to silent and portentousgloom, he instinctively clothed his naked shrinking soul in a garmentof irresponsible frivolity. The possession of this faculty is adoubtful blessing, for it deprives many a deserving sufferer of thesympathy which is his right, and which would be his could he but takethe world into his confidence. But the world can never rid itself ofthe notion that only still waters run deep. Consequently Jim Carthewpassed in the eyes of most of his friends as a kindly, light-hearted,rather soulless trifler. But Daphne was not altogether deceived. Shetook an instinctive interest in this young man. She interrupted hisfeverish monologue, and inquired--
"Tell me, who is that girl? The tall one, with fair hair and splendidblack eyes."
"What is she dressed in?" asked Carthew, surveying the throng withstudied diligence.
"Flame-coloured chiffon," said Daphne.
"That is a Miss Tallentyre," replied Carthew carelessly. "Do you thinkshe is pretty?" he added, after a slightly strained pause.
"I think she is perfectly magnificent. Do you know her?"
"Er--yes."
"Will you introduce me?" asked Daphne. "I should like to know her.See, she has just sent away her partner. Take me over and leave mewith her, and then you will be free to run off and find the charmer Ican see you are so anxious about."
The hapless Carthew having asserted, this time with considerably moresincerity, that he had now no further thoughts of dancing, theintroduction was effected. The sequel lay this morning upon Daphne'sbreakfast-tray, amid a heap of invitations--Daphne was in greatrequest at present--in the form of a note, written upon thick bluepaper, in a large and rather ostentatious feminine hand. It ran--
"DEAR LADY CARR,--Don't consider me a forward young person if I ask you to be an angel and come and lunch with me to-day. I know all sorts of ceremonies ought to be observed before such a climax is reached; but will you take them for granted and _come_? We had such a tiny talk last night, and I do so want to know you better. I have been dying to make your acquaintance ever since I first saw you.--Sincerely yours, "NINA TALLENTYRE."
Daphne was not the sort of girl to take it amiss that she, a marriedwoman of twenty-three, with a husband and baby of her own, shouldinformally be bidden to a feast by a young person previously unknownto her, who possessed neither. In any case the last sentence wouldhave been too much for her vanity. She scribbled a note of acceptanceto Miss Tallentyre's invitation, and set about her morning toilet.
Once downstairs, she paid her regulation punctilious visit to thelibrary, where her husband was usually to be found until twelveo'clock. She inquired in her breezy fashion after the health of theMo
ther of Parliaments, and expressed a hope that her spouse had comehome at a reasonable hour and enjoyed a proper night's rest. She nextproceeded to the orders of the day.
"Are you dining out to-night, dear?" she inquired.
"Yes, for my sins! A City dinner at six-thirty."
"You'll be bad the morn!" quoted Lady Carr.
"True for you, Daphne. Are you going anywhere?"
"No."
"Well, you had better have Carthew to dine with you, and then he cantake you to the theatre afterwards. Sorry I can't manage it my--forour two selves," he added, guiltily conscious of Mrs Carfrae's recenthomily.
But Daphne was quite satisfied with the arrangement, which shedesignated top-hole.
"Now I am off shopping," she announced. "After that I am lunching witha girl I met last night; then Hurlingham, with the Peabodys. If youare going gorging at six-thirty, I probably shan't see you againto-day; so I'll say good-night now. Pleasant dreams! I am off to playwith Baby before I go out. So long!"
She presented her husband with his diurnal kiss, and departed insearch of Master Brian Vereker Carr, whose domain was situated in theupper regions of the house. Here for a time the beautiful and statelyconsort of Sir John Carr merged into the Daphne of old--Daphne, thelittle mother of all the world, the inventor of new and delightfulgames and repairer of all damages incurred therein. Her son's rubicundand puckered countenance lightened at her approach. He permitted hislatest tooth to be exhibited without remonstrance; he nodded affably,even encouragingly, over his mother's impersonation of a dying pig;and paid her the supreme compliment of howling lustily on herdeparture.
Master Carr never interviewed his parents simultaneously. His father'svisits--not quite so constrained as one might imagine, once thesupercilious nurse had been removed out of earshot--usually took placein the evening, just before dinner; but father and mother never cametogether. Had they done so, it is possible that this narrative mighthave followed a different course. A common interest, especially whenit possesses its father's mouth and its mother's eyes, with arepertory of solemn but attractive tricks with its arms and legsthrown in, is apt to be a very uniting thing.
II.
Daphne duly lunched with Miss Tallentyre.
"May I call you Daphne?" the siren asked, in a voice which intimatedthat a request from some people is as good as a command from most. "Ihave taken a fancy to you; and when I do that to anybody--which isn'toften--I say so. My dear, you are perfectly _lovely_! I wish I hadyour complexion. You don't put anything on it, do you?"
"Soap," said Daphne briefly. She was not of the sort which takesfancies readily.
Miss Tallentyre smiled lazily.
"I see you haven't got the hang of me yet," she drawled. "You are alittle offended with me. Most people are at first, but they soon findthat it's not really rudeness--only _me_!--and they come round. Idon't go in for rouge either. Like you, I don't need it. But I have totouch up my eyebrows. They are quite tragically sandy, and my facelooks perfectly insipid if I leave them as they are." She laughedagain. "Have I shocked you? You see, I believe in being frank aboutthings--don't you? Be natural--be yourself--say what you think! Thatis the only true motto in life, isn't it?"
Daphne agreed cautiously. She had not yet plumbed this rather peculiaryoung woman. It had never occurred to her, in the whole course of herfrank ingenuous existence, to ask herself whether she was herself ornot. Such things were too high for her. She began to feel that she hadbeen somewhat remiss in the matter. Miss Tallentyre appeared to havemade a speciality of it.
But as shrewd Daphne was soon to discern for herself, this was onlypretty Nina's way. A more confirmed _poseuse_ never angled for theindiscriminate admiration of mankind. Nina Tallentyre was no fool.Having observed that in order to become conspicuous in this world itis an advantage to possess marked individuality, and having none ofher own beyond that conferred by her face and figure, she decided tomanufacture an individuality for her herself. She accordingly selectedwhat she considered the most suitable of the _roles_ at her disposal,rehearsed it to her satisfaction, assumed it permanently, and playedit, it must be confessed, uncommonly well. Her pose was that of theblunt and candid child of nature, and her performances ranged fromunblushing flattery towards those with whom she desired to stand wellto undisguised rudeness towards those whom she disliked and did notthink it necessary to conciliate.
Her method prospered. Whatever wise men may think or say of us, foolsusually take us at our own valuation. Consequently Miss Tallentyrenever lacked a majority of admirers. She set a very high price uponher friendship, too, conferring it only as an exceptional favour; andthe public, which always buys on the rise, had long since rushed inand bulled Miss Tallentyre's stock--her beauty, her wit, hertransparent honesty--sky high.
The luncheon was a _tete-a-tete_ function, the parent-birds, as MissTallentyre termed them, being absent upon a country visit. AfterwardsRussian cigarettes and liqueur brandy were served with the coffee.Daphne declined these manly luxuries, but her hostess took both.
"Not that I like them," she explained with a plaintive little sigh,"but it looks _chic_; and one must be _chic_ or die. Besides, I amdoing it to annoy one of my admirers--one of those simple-minded,early Victorian, John Bullish creatures who dislike seeing a girlsmoke, or drink cognac, or go to the theatre without a chaperone. Hereis his latest effusion; it will make you shriek."
She picked up a letter from a little table by her side and began toread aloud.
"'_Nina, dear child, I know you don't care for me any more,_'--
As a matter of fact I never cared for him at any time--
'_but I can't help still taking an interest in you, and all that. I must say this. On Tuesday night I saw you sitting at supper with two men at the Vallambrosa, without anybody else to keep you in countenance, sipping liqueur brandy and smoking. Well, don't--there's a dear! You simply don't know what cruel things people say about a girl who does that sort of thing in public. Of course I know that you are absolutely----_'"
But Lady Carr was on her feet, slightly flushed.
"I think I must be going now," she said. "I had no idea it was solate. I have to meet some people at Hurlingham."
"Sorry you have to rush off," said Miss Tallentyre regretfully; "wewere so cosy. Isn't this letter perfectly sweet?"
Daphne, who was glowing hotly, suddenly spoke her mind.
"If an honest man," she said, "wrote me a letter like that, I don'tthink I should read it aloud to total strangers, even if I wasmortally offended by it. It doesn't seem to me cricket. Good-bye, andthank you so much for asking me to lunch."
"_Not_ altogether a successful party," mused Daphne, as a taxi-cabconveyed her to Hurlingham. "What a hateful girl! And yet, at the backof all that affectation I believe there is something. I couldn't helpliking her. She certainly is very lovely, and she must have been adarling before men got hold of her and spoiled her.... I wonder ifthat letter was from Jim Carthew. It sounded like his bluntblundering way of doing things. Well, he is well rid of her, anyhow.Hurrah! here is Hurlingham, and there are the Peabodys! How lovely tosee the trees and grass again! And the _dear_ ponies!"
The country-bred girl drew a long luxurious breath, and in the fulnessof her heart grossly overpaid her charioteer on alighting. Then,forgetting Miss Tallentyre and her exotic atmosphere utterly andabsolutely, she plunged with all the energy of her sunny soul into thesane delights and wholesome joys afforded by green trees, summerskies, and prancing polo-ponies.
III.
Daphne concluded her day, after a joyous drive home in the cool of theevening on the box-seat of a coach, by entertaining Jim Carthew todinner. Afterwards he was to take her to _The Yeoman of the Guard_,which was running through a revival at the Savoy Theatre. Daphne wasby no means a _blasee_ Londoner as yet, for much of her short marriedlife had been spent at Belton; and the theatre was still an abidingjoy to her. On the way she rattled off a list of the pieces she hadseen.
"A
nd you have never been to a Gilbert and Sullivan opera?" askedCarthew incredulously.
"No--never."
"All I can say is--cheers!"
"Why?"
"Supposing you were a benevolent person about to introduce a small boyto his first plum-pudding, you would feel as I do," replied hercompanion. "But wait. Here is the theatre: we are in the fourth row ofstalls."
Daphne sat raptly through the first act. Once or twice her laughterrang out suddenly and spontaneously like a child's, and indulgentpersons turned and smiled sympathetically upon her; but for the mostpart she was still and silent, revelling in Sullivan's ever-limpidmusic and following the scenes that passed before her with breathlessattention.
When the curtain fell slowly upon the finale of the first act--thesuddenly deserted stage, the bewildered Fairfax holding his faintingbride in his arms, and the black motionless figure of the executionertowering over all--Daphne drew a long and tremulous breath, and turnedto her companion.
"I understand now what you meant," she said softly. "How splendid tobe able to bring some one here for the first time!"
"What surprises me," said Carthew, "is that Sir John hasn't broughtyou here already. I know he simply loves it."
"I am usually taken to places like the Gaiety," confessed Lady Carr."Probably Jack considers them more suited to my intellect. Hallo, hereare the orchestra-men crawling out of their holes again! Good!"
Presently the curtain went up on the last act, and Jack Pointintroduced a selection of the Merry Jests of Hugh Ambrose, to theaudible joy of the fourth row of stalls. The Assistant Tormentor andhis beloved were likewise warmly received; but presently Daphne'ssmiles faded. Poor Jack Point's tribulations were too much for her:during the final recurrence of _I Have a Song to Sing, O!_ tears came,and as the curtain fell she dabbed her eyes hurriedly with aninadequate handkerchief.
"Awfully sorry!" she murmured apologetically. "Luckily you are not thesort to laugh at me."
Carthew silently placed her wrap round her shoulders.
"Mr Carthew," said Daphne suddenly, "will you take me somewhere gayfor supper? It wouldn't be awfully improper, would it? I can't go homefeeling as sad as this."
"Come along!" said Carthew.
He escorted her to an establishment where the electric lights blazedbravely, a band blared forth a cacophonous cake-walk entitled(apparently) "By Request," and the brightest and best of the _jeunessedoree_ of London mingled in sweet companionship with the haughty buthungry divinities of the musical comedy stage.
Carthew secured a table in a secluded corner, as far as possible fromthe band.
"Sorry to have given you the hump," he said, with his boyish smile."Next week I will take you to _The Mikado_. No tears there! You willlaugh till you cry. Rather a bull that--what?"
He persevered manfully in this strain in his endeavour to drive awayimpressionable Daphne's distress on Jack Point's behalf, andultimately succeeded.
"I hope he was _dead_, not simply in a faint," was her final referenceto the subject. Then she continued: "I shall take them _all_ to seethat lovely piece--separately. I am not sure about Nicky, though. Sheis just at the scoffing age just now, and I don't think I could bearit, if she----"
"Not long ago," said Carthew, "I took a girl--that sort of girl--tosee _The Yeomen_."
Daphne regarded him covertly. She knew the girl.
"Well?" she said.
"I took her on purpose," continued Carthew--"to see how she----"
Daphne, deeply interested, nodded comprehendingly.
"I know," she said. "How did she take it?"
"She never stirred," said Carthew, "all through the last act. Whenthe curtain fell, she sat on for a few moments without saying a word,and she never spoke all the time I was taking her home. When I saidgood-night to her, she--she said something to me. It was not much, butit showed me that she _was_ the right sort after all, in spite of whatpeople said----"
He checked himself suddenly, as if conscious that his reminiscenceswere becoming somewhat intimate. But Daphne nodded a serious head.
"I'm glad," she said simply. "One likes to be right about one'sfriends."
Carthew shot a grateful glance at her; and presently they drifted intoless personal topics, mutually conscious that here, if need be, was afriend--an understanding friend.
The evening had yet one more incident in store for Daphne.
Twelve-thirty, the _Ultima Thule_ of statutory indulgence--the hourat which London, thirty minutes more fortunate than Cinderella,must perforce fly home from scenes of revelry and get ready toshake the mats--was fast approaching; and the management of therestaurant began, by a respectful but pertinacious process oflight-extinguishing, to apprise patrons of the fact.
As Daphne and Carthew passed through the rapidly emptying vestibuleto their cab, five flushed young gentlemen, of the _genus_undergraduate-on-the-spree, suddenly converged upon the scene fromthe direction of the bar, locked together in a promiscuous and notaltogether unprofitable embrace. They were urged from the rear bypolite but inflexible menials in brass buttons.
"What ho, Daph!"
The cry emanated from the gentleman who was acting for the moment askeystone of the arch. Daphne, stepping into the cab, looked back.
"Mr Carthew," she exclaimed, "it's Ally--my brother! He must have comeup from Cambridge for the day. Do go and bring him here."
She took her seat in the hansom, and Carthew went back. Presently hereturned.
"I would not advise an interview," he said drily. "Your brother--well,you know the effect of London air upon an undergraduate fresh from thecountry! Let him come round and see you in the morning."
He gave the cabman his orders, and their equipage drove off, just asSebastian Aloysius Vereker, the nucleus of a gyrating mass of humanity(composed of himself and party, together with two stalwart myrmidonsof the Hilarity Restaurant and a stray cab-tout), toppled heavily outof the portals of that celebrated house of refreshment into the armsof an indulgent policeman.
* * * * *
More life--real life! reflected Daphne, as she laid her head on herpillow, tired out and utterly contented. To-day had yielded its fullshare. That peculiar but interesting interview with Miss Tallentyre,that glorious carnival under the blue sky at Hurlingham, and thatlaughter-and-tear-compelling spectacle at the Savoy--all hadcontributed to the total. Finally, that _tete-a-tete_ supper with JimCarthew--indubitably a dear--ending with the episode of Ally. A littledisturbing, that last! Well, perhaps Ally was only trying to see lifetoo, in his own way. Life! Daphne tingled as she felt her own leap inher veins. And to-morrow would bring more!
Then the sandman paid his visit, and she slept like the tired childthat she was, having completed to her entire satisfaction another dayof what, when you come to think of it, was nothing more or less thanan utterly idle, selfish, unprofitable existence.