CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
A PINK LUNCHEON.
For the next week conversation was more strictly centred on Rosalindthan ever, and the gloomy expression deepened on Peggy's face. She was,in truth, working too hard for her strength, for, as each day passed,the necessity of hurrying on with the calendar became more apparent; andas Robert was no longer master of his own time, she was obliged to cometo his aid in writing out the selected quotations.
At every spare moment of the day she was locked in her room, scribblingaway for dear life or searching for appropriate extracts, and, as aconsequence, her brain refused to rest when she wished it to do so. Shetossed wakefully on her pillow, and was often most inclined for sleepwhen six o'clock struck, and she dragged herself up, a white-cheeked,weary little mortal, to sit blinking over the fire, wishing feebly thatit was time to go to bed again, instead of getting up to face the long,long day.
Robert was not more observant than most boys of his age, and Peggy wouldhave worked herself to death before she had complained to him. She wasproud to feel that he depended on her more than ever, that without herhelp he could not possibly have finished his task, while his words ofgratitude helped to comfort a heart which was feeling sore and empty.
In truth, these last few weeks had been harder for Peggy than thoseimmediately following her mother's departure. Then each one in thehouse had vied with the other in trying to comfort her, whereas now,without any intention of unkindness, her companions often appeared to beneglectful.
When Rosalind was present Esther hung on one arm and Mellicent on theother, without so much as a glance over the shoulder to see if Peggywere following. Instead of a constant "Peggy, what would you like?"
"What does Peggy say?" her opinion was never even asked, whileRosalind's lightest word was treated as law.
It would have been hard for any girl under the circumstances, but it wasdoubly hard when that girl was so dependent on her friends, and sosensitive and reserved in disposition as Peggy Saville. She would notdeign to complain or to ask for signs of affection which were notvoluntarily given, but her merry ways disappeared, and she became sosilent and subdued that she was hardly recognisable as the audaciousPeggy of a few weeks earlier.
"Peggy's so grumpy," Mellicent complained to her mother. "She neverlaughs now, nor makes jokes, nor flies about as she used to do! She'sjust as glum and mum as can be, and she never sits with us! She isalways in her bedroom with the door locked, so that we can't get in!She's there now! I think she might stay with us sometimes! It's mean,always running away!"
Mrs Asplin drew her brows together and looked worried. She had notbeen satisfied about Peggy lately, and this news did not tend toreassure her. Her kind heart could not endure that anyone beneath herroof should be ill or unhappy, and the girl had looked both during thelast few days. She went upstairs at once and tapped at the door, whenPeggy's voice was raised in impatient answer.
"I can't come! Go away! I'm engaged!"
"But I want to speak to you, dear! Please let me in!" she replied inher clear, pleasant tones; whereupon there was a hasty scamper inside,and the door was thrown open.
"Oh-h! I didn't know it was you; I thought it was one of the girls.I'm sorry I kept you waiting."
Mrs Asplin gave a glance around. The gas-fire was lit, but the chairbeside it stood stiffly in the corner, and the cushion was uncrushed.Evidently, the girl had not been sitting there. The work-basket was inits accustomed place, and there were no cottons or silks lying about--Peggy had not been sewing at Christmas presents, as she had half hopedto find her. A towel was thrown over the writing-table, and a piece ofblotting-paper lay on the floor. A chair was pushed to one side, as ifit had been lately used. That looked as if she had been writingletters.
"Peggy dear, what are you doing all by yourself in this chilly room?"
"I'm busy, Mrs Asplin. I lit the fire as soon as I came in."
"But a room does not get warm in five minutes. I don't want you tocatch cold and be laid up with a sore throat. Can't you bring yourwriting downstairs and do it beside the others?"
"I would rather not. I can get on so much better by myself."
"Are you writing to India--to your mother?"
"N-no, not just now."
"Then really, dear, you must come downstairs! This won't do! Yourmother wished you to have a fire in your room, so that you might be ableto sit here when you wanted to be alone, but she never meant you to makeit a habit, or to spend all your spare time alone. It isn't healthy touse a room night and day, and to burn so much gas, and it isn'tsociable, Peggy dear. Mellicent has just been complaining that you arehardly ever with them nowadays. Come along, like a good girl; put thewriting away and amuse yourself downstairs. You have done enough workfor one day. You don't do me credit with those white cheeks."
Peggy stood with her eyes fixed on the carpet without uttering a word.It would have been the easiest thing in the world to say, "Oh, do let mestay upstairs as much as I like for a day or two longer. I have a pieceof work on hand which I am anxious to finish. It is a secret, but Ihope to tell you all about it soon, and I am sure you will be pleased."If she had done so, she knew perfectly well how hearty and pleasantwould have been Mrs Asplin's consent; but there are some states of mindin which it is a positive pleasure to be a martyr, and to feel oneselfmisunderstood, and this was just the mood in which Peggy found herselfat present. She heard Mrs Asplin sigh, as if with anxiety anddisappointment, as she left the room, and shrugged her shoulders inwilful indifference.
"She thinks I like sitting shivering here! I slave, and slave, frommorning till night, and then people think I am sulky! I am not workingfor myself. I don't want the wretched old ten pounds; I could have tenpounds to-morrow if I needed it. Mother said I could. I am working tohelp Rob, and now I shall have to sit up later, and get up earlier thanever, as I mayn't work during the day. Mellicent said I was never withthem, did she! I don't see that it matters whether I am there or not!They don't want me; nobody wants me, now that Rosalind has come! I hateRosalind--nasty, smirking, conceited thing!" and Peggy jerked the toweloff the writing-table and flicked it violently to and fro in the air,just as a little relief to her overcharged feelings.
She was crossing the hall with unwilling steps when the postman's knocksounded at the door, and three letters in long, narrow envelopes fell tothe ground. Each envelope was of a pale pink tint, with a crest andmonogram in white relief; one was addressed to the Misses Asplin,another to Oswald Elliston, and a third to Miss Mariquita Saville.
"Invitations!" cried Peggy, with a caper of delight. "Invitations! Howscrumptious!" Her face clouded for a moment as the sight of the letters"R.D." suggested the sender of the letters; but the natural girlishdelight in an unexpected festivity was stronger even than herprejudices, and it was the old, bright Peggy who bounced into theschoolroom holding up the three letters, and crying gleefully, "_Quis,Quis_, something nice for somebody! An invitation!"
"_Ego, Ego_!" came the eager replies, and the envelopes were seized andtorn open in breathless haste.
"From Rosalind! Oh, how funny! `Requests the pleasure--company--to apink luncheon.' What in the world is a `pink luncheon'?--`on Tuesdaynext, the 20th inst.'"
"A p-p-pink luncheon? How wewwy stwange!" echoed Mellicent, who hadbeen suddenly affected with an incapacity to pronounce the letter "r"since the arrival of Rosalind Darcy on the scene--a peculiarity whichhappened regularly every autumn, and passed off again with the advent ofspring. "How can a luncheon possibly be pink?"
"That's more than I can tell you, my dear! Ask Rob. What does it mean,Rob?" asked Peggy curiously; and Robert scowled, and shook back hisshock of hair.
"Some American fad, I believe. The idea is to have everything of onecolour--flowers, drapery, and food, china--everything that is on thetable. It's a fag and an awful handicap, for you can't have half thethings you want. But let us be modern or die--that's the mottonowadays. Mother is always trying to get
hold of new-fangled notions."
"`Peggy Saville requests the pleasure of Jane Smith's company to amagenta supper.'--`Peggy Saville requests the pleasure of Mr Jones'scompany to a purple tea.' It's a splendid idea! I like it immensely,"said Peggy, pursing her lips, and staring in the fire in meditativefashion. "Pink--pink--what can we eat that is pink? P-prawns,p-pickles, p-p-pomegranates, P-aysandu tongues (you would call thosepink, wouldn't you--pinky red?) Humph! I don't think it sounds verynice. Perhaps they dye the things with cochineal. I think I shall havea sensible brown and green meal before I go, and then I can nibbleelegantly at the pinkies. Would it be considered a delicate mark ofattention if I wore a pink frock?"
"Certainly it would. Wear that nice one that you put on in theevenings. Rosalind will be in pink from head to foot, you may depend onit," said Robert confidently; whereupon Mellicent rushed headlong fromthe room to find her mother, and plead eagerly that summer crepondresses of the desired tint should be brought forth from theirhiding-place and freshened up for the occasion. To accede to thisrequest meant an extra call upon time already fully occupied, butmothers have a way of not grudging trouble where their children areconcerned. Mrs Asplin said, "Yes, darling, of course I will!" and setto work with such goodwill that all three girls sported pink dressesbeneath their ulsters when they set off to partake of the mysteriousluncheon, a few days later.
Rosalind came to the bedroom to receive them, and looked on from anarm-chair, while Lady Darcy's maid helped the visitors to take off theirwraps. She herself looked like a rose in her dainty pink draperies, andPeggy had an impression that she was not altogether pleased to see thather guests were as appropriately dressed as herself. She eyed them upand down, and made remarks to the maid in that fluent French of herswhich was so unintelligible to the schoolgirls' ears. The maid smirkedand pursed up her lips, and then, meeting Peggy's steady gaze, droppedher eyes in confusion. Peggy knew, as well as if she had understoodevery word, that the remarks exchanged between mistress and maid hadbeen of a depreciatory nature, not as concerned her own attire--that wasas perfect in its way as Rosalind's own--but with reference to thehome-made dresses of the vicar's daughters, which seemed to havesuddenly become clumsy and shapeless when viewed in the mirrors of thiselegant bedroom. She was in arms at once on her friends' behalf, andwhen Peggy's dignity was hurt she was a formidable person to tackle. Inthis instance she fixed her eyes first on the maid, and then on Rosalindherself with a steady, disapproving stare which was not a littledisconcerting.
"I am sorry," she said, "but we really don't know French well enough tofollow your conversation! You were talking about us, I think. Perhapsyou would be kind enough to repeat your remarks in English?"
"Oh-h, it doesn't matter! It was nothing at all important!" Rosalindflushed, and had the grace to look a trifle ashamed of her ownill-breeding, but she did not by any means appreciate the reproof. Thegirls had not been ten minutes in the house, and already thataggravating Peggy Saville had succeeded in making her feel humiliatedand uncomfortable. The same thing happened whenever they met. Therespect and awe and adoring admiration which she was accustomed toreceive from other girls of her own age seemed altogether wanting inPeggy's case; and yet, strange to say, the very fact that she refused tofall down and worship invested Peggy with a peculiar importance inRosalind's eyes. She longed to overcome her prejudices and add her nameto the list of her adorers, and to this end she considered her tastes ina way which would never have occurred to her in connection with MrsAsplin's daughters. In planning the pink luncheon Peggy had beencontinually in her mind, and it is doubtful whether she would have takenthe trouble to arrange so difficult an entertainment had not the partyfrom the vicarage included that important personage, Miss MariquitaSaville.
From the bedroom the girls adjourned to the morning-room, where LadyDarcy sat waiting; but almost as soon as they had exchanged greetings,the gong sounded to announce luncheon, and they walked across the hallaglow with expectation.
The table looked exquisite, and the guests stood still in the doorwayand gasped with admiration. The weather outside was grey and murky, buttall standard lamps were placed here and there, and the light whichstreamed from beneath the pink silk shades gave an air of warmth andcomfort to the room. Down the centre of the table lay a slip oflooking-glass, on which graceful long-necked swans seemed to float toand fro, while troughs filled with soft pink blossoms formed abordering. Garlands of pink flowers fell from the chandelier and wereattached to the silver candelabra, in which pink candles burned withclear and steady flare. Glass, china, ornaments, were all of the samedainty colour, and beside each plate was a dainty little buttonholenosegay, with a coral-headed pin, all ready to be attached to the dressor coat of the owner.
"It's--it's beautiful!" cried Mellicent ecstatically; while Peggy'sbeauty-loving eye turned from one detail to another with delightedapprobation. "Really," she said to herself in astonishment, "I couldn'thave done it better myself! It's quite admirable!" and as Rosalind'sface peered inquiringly at her beneath the canopy of flowers, she noddedher head, and smiled generous approval.
"Beautiful! Charming! I congratulate you! Did you design it andarrange everything yourself?"
"Mother and I made it up between us. We didn't do the actual work, butwe told the servants what to do, and saw that it was all right. Theflowers and bonbons are easy enough to manage; it's the things to eatthat are the greatest trouble."
"It seems to be too horribly prosaic to eat anything at such a table,except crumpled rose-leaves, like the princess in the fairy tale," saidPeggy gushingly; but at this Mellicent gave an exclamation of dismay,and the three big lads turned their eyes simultaneously towards the souptureen, as if anxious to assure themselves that they were not to be putoff with such ethereal rations.
The soup was pink. "Tomato!" murmured Peggy to herself, as she raisedthe first creamy spoonful to her lips. The fish was covered with thickpink sauce; tiny little cutlets lurked behind ruffles of pink paper;pink baskets held chicken souffles; moulds of pink cream and whipped-upsyllabubs were handed round in turns, and looked so tempting thatMellicent helped herself at once, and nearly shed tears of mortificationon finding that they were followed by distracting pink ices, which werecarried away again before she could possibly finish what was on herplate. Then came dessert-plates and finger-glasses, in whichcrystallised rose-leaves floated in the scented water, as if infulfilment of Peggy's suggestion of an hour before, and the young peoplesat in great contentment, eating rosy apples, bananas pared and dippedin pink sugar, or helping themselves to the delicious bonbons which werestrewed about the table.
While they were thus occupied the door opened, and Lord Darcy came intothe room. He had not appeared before, and he shook hands with thevisitors in turn, and then stood at the head of the table looking abouthim with a slow, kindly smile. Peggy watched him from her seat, andthought what a nice face he had, and wondered at the indifferent mannerin which he was received by his wife and daughter. Lady Darcy leantback in her chair and played with her fruit, the sleeves of her pinksilk tea-gown falling back from her white arms. Rosalind whispered toMax, and neither of them troubled to cast so much as a glance of welcomeat the new-comer. Peggy thought of her own father, the gallant soldierout in India, of the joy and pride with which his comings and goingswere watched; of Mr Asplin in the vicarage, with his wife running tomeet him, and Mellicent resting her curly bead on his shoulder; and thefigure of the old lord standing unnoticed at the head of his own tableassumed a pathetic interest. It seemed, however, as if Lord Darcy wereaccustomed to be overlooked, for he showed no signs of annoyance; on thecontrary, his face brightened, and he looked at the pretty scene withsparkling eyes. The room was full of a soft rosy glow, the shimmer ofsilver and crystal was reflected in the sheet of mirror, and beneath thegarlands of flowers the young faces of the guests glowed with pleasureand excitement. He looked from one to the other--handsome Max, dandyOswald, Robert with his look of strength and decision
; then to thegirls--Esther, gravely smiling; wide-eyed Mellicent; Peggy, with hereloquent, sparkling eyes; Rosalind, a queen of beauty among them all;finally to the head of the table, where sat his wife.
"I must congratulate you, dear," he said heartily. "It is the prettiestsight I have seen for a long time. You have arranged admirably, butthat's no new thing; you always do. I don't know where you get yourideas. These wreaths--eh? I've never seen anything like them before.What made you think of fastening them up there?"
"I have had them like that several times before, but you never notice athing until its novelty is over, and I am tired to death of seeing it,"said his wife, with a frown and an impatient curve of the lip, as if shehad received a rebuke instead of a compliment.
Peggy stared at her plate, felt Robert shuffle on his chair by her side,and realised that he was as embarrassed and unhappy as herself. Thebeautiful room with its luxurious appointments seemed to have suddenlybecome oppressive and cheerless, for in it was the spirit of discontentand discord between those who should have been most in harmony. Estherwas shocked, Mellicent frightened, the boys looked awkward anduncomfortable. No one ventured to break the silence, and there wasquite a long pause before Lady Darcy spoke again in quick, irritabletones.
"Have you arranged to get away with me on Thursday, as I asked you?"
"My dear, I cannot. I explained before. I am extremely sorry, but Ihave made appointments which I cannot break. I could take you next weekif you would wait."
"I can't wait. I told you I had to go to the dentist's. Do you wish meto linger on in agony for another week? And I have written to MrsBouverie that I will be at her `At Home' on Saturday. My appointmentsare, at least, as binding as yours. It isn't often that I ask you totake me anywhere, but when it is a matter of health I do think you mightshow a little consideration."
Lord Darcy drew his brows together and bit his moustache. Peggyrecalled Robert's description of the "governor looking wretched" when hefound himself compelled to refuse a favour, and did not wonder that thelad was ready to deny himself a pleasure rather than see that expressionon his father's face. The twinkling light had died out of his eyes, andhe looked old and sad and haggard, far more in need of physical remediesthan his wife, whose "agony" had been so well concealed during the lasttwo hours as to give her the appearance of a person in very comfortablehealth. Rosalind alone looked absolutely unruffled, and lay back in herchair nibbling at her bonbon, as though such scenes were of too frequentoccurrence between her parents to be deserving of attention.
"If you have made up your mind to go to-morrow, and cannot go alone, youmust take Robert with you, Beatrice, for I cannot leave. It is only forfour days, and Mr Asplin will no doubt excuse him, if you write andexplain the circumstances."
Lord Darcy left the room, and Robert and Peggy exchanged agonisedglances. Go away for nearly a week, when before two days were over thecalendar must be sent to London, and there still remained real hard workbefore it was finished! Peggy sat dazed and miserable, seeing thepainful effort of the last month brought to naught, Robert's ambitiondefeated, and her own help of no avail. That one glance had shown thelad's face flushed with emotion; but when his mother spoke to him infretful tones, bidding him be ready next morning when she should call inthe carriage on her way to the station, he answered at once with politeacquiescence--
"Very well, mater, I won't keep you waiting. I shall be ready byhalf-past ten if you want me."