CHAPTER VII. JENNIE ARRANGES A CINDERELLA VISIT.
The room which had been allotted to Jennie Baxter in the SchlossSteinheimer enjoyed a most extended outlook. A door-window gave accessto a stone balcony, which hung against the castle wall like a swallow'snest at the eaves of a house. This balcony was just wide enough to giveample space for one of the easy rocking-chairs which the Princess hadimported from America, and which Jennie thought were the only reallycomfortable pieces of furniture the old stronghold possessed, much asshe admired the artistic excellence of the mediaeval chairs, tables, andcabinets which for centuries had served the needs of the ancient linethat had lived in the Schloss. The rocking-chair was as modern as thismorning's daily paper; its woodwork painted a bright scarlet, its armslike broad shelves, its rockers as sensitively balanced as a marinecompass; in fact, just such a chair as one would find dotted roundthe vast verandah of an American summer hotel. In this chair sat MissJennie, two open letters on her lap, and perplexity in the dainty littlefrown that faintly ruffled the smoothness of her fair brow. The scenefrom the high balcony was one to be remembered; but, although this washer last day at the Castle, the girl saw nothing of the pretty town ofMeran so far below; the distant chalk-line down the slope beyond whichmarked the turbulent course of the foaming Adege; the lofty mountainsall around, or the further snow-peaks, dazzling white against the deepblue of the sky.
One of the epistles which lay on her lap was the letter she had receivedfrom the editor recounting the difficulties he had met with whileendeavouring to make arrangements for reporting adequately the Duchessof Chiselhurst's ball; the other was the still unanswered invitationfrom the Duchess to the Princess. Jennie was flattered to know thatalready the editor, who had engaged her with unconcealed reluctance,expected her to accomplish what the entire staff were powerless toeffect. She knew that, had she but the courage, it was only necessary toaccept the invitation in the name of her present hostess, and attend thegreat society function as Princess von Steinheimer. Yet she hesitated,not so much on account of the manifest danger of discovery, but becauseshe had grown to like the Princess, and this impersonation, if it cameto the knowledge of the one most intimately concerned, as it was almostsure to do, would doubtless be regarded as an unpardonable liberty. Asshe swayed gently back and forth in the gaudy rocking-chair, she thoughtof confessing everything to the Princess and asking her assistance; butpondering on this, she saw that it was staking everything on one throwof the dice. If the Princess refused, then the scheme became impossible,as that lady herself would answer the letter of the Duchess and declinethe invitation. Jennie soothed her accusing conscience by tellingherself that this impersonation would do no harm to Princess vonSteinheimer, or to anyone else for that matter, while it would be ofinestimable assistance to her own journalistic career. From thatshe drifted to meditation on the inequalities of this life--thesuperabundance which some possess, while others, no less deserving, havedifficulty in obtaining the scant necessities. And this consoling trainof thought having fixed her resolve to take the goods the gods scatteredat her feet, or rather threw into her lap, she drew a long sigh ofdetermination as there came a gentle tap at the door of her room, andthe voice of the Princess herself said, "May I come in?"
Jennie, a rapid blush flaming her cheeks, sprang to her feet, flung theletters on a table, and opened the door.
The visitor entered, looking attractive enough to be a princess offairyland, and greeted Miss Baxter most cordially.
"I am so sorry you are leaving," she said. "Cannot you be persuaded tochange your mind and stay with me? Where could you find a more lovelyview than this from your balcony here?"
"Or a more lovely hostess?" said the girl, looking at her visitor withundisguised admiration and quite ignoring the landscape.
The Princess laughed, and as they now stood together on the balcony sheput out her hands, pushed Jennie gently into the rocking-chair again,seating herself jauntily on its broad arm, and thus the two looked likea pair of mischievous schoolgirls, home at vacation time, thoroughlyenjoying their liberty.
"There! You are now my prisoner, about to be punished for flattery,"cried the Princess. "I saw by the motion of the chair that you had justjumped up from it when I disturbed you, so there you are, back in itagain. What were you thinking about? A rocking-chair lends itselfdeliciously to meditation, and we always dream of someone veryparticular as we rock."
"I am no exception to the rule," sighed Jennie; "I was thinking of you,Princess."
"How nice of you to say that; and as one good turn deserves another,here is proof that a certain young lady has been in my thoughts."
As she spoke, the Princess took from her pocket an embossed case ofRussian leather, opened it and displayed a string of diamonds, lustrousas drops of liquid light.
"I want you to wear these stones in remembrance of our diamondmystery--that is why I chose diamonds--and also, I confess, because Iwant you to think of me every time you put them on. See how conceited Iam! One does not like to be forgotten."
Jennie took the string, her own eyes for a moment rivalling inbrilliancy the sparkle of the gems; then the moisture obscured hervision and she automatically poured the stones from one hand to theother, as if their scintillating glitter hypnotized her. She tried onceor twice to speak, but could not be sure of her voice, so remainedsilent. The Princess, noticing her agitation, gently lifted the necklaceand clasped it round the girl's white throat, chattering all the whilewith nervous haste.
"There! you can wear diamonds, and there are so many to whom they areunbecoming. I also look well in diamonds--at least, so I've been toldover and over again, and I've come to believe it at last. I suppose theyoung men have not concealed from you the fact that you are a strikinglygood-looking girl, Jennie. Indeed, and this is brag if you like, we tworesemble one another enough to be sisters, nearly the same height, thesame colour of eyes and hair. Come to the mirror, Miss Handsomeness, andadmire yourself."
She dragged Jennie to her feet and drew her into the room, placingher triumphantly before the great looking-glass that reflected back afull-length portrait.
"Now confess that you never saw a prettier girl," cried the Princessgleefully.
"I don't think I ever did," admitted Jennie, but she was looking at theimage of the Princess and not at her own. The Princess laughed, but MissBaxter seemed too much affected by the unexpected present to join in themerriment. She regarded herself solemnly in the glass for a few moments,then slowly undid the clasp, and, slipping the string of brilliants fromher neck, handed them back to the Princess. "You are very, very kind,but I cannot accept so costly a present."
"Cannot? Why? Have I offended you by anything I have said since youcame?"
"Oh, no, no. It isn't that."
"What, then? Don't you like me, after all?"
"Like you? I _love_ you, Princess!" cried the girl impulsively, throwingher arms round the other's neck.
The Princess tried to laugh as she pressed Jennie closely to her, butthere was a tremour of tears in the laughter.
"You must take this little gift as a souvenir of your visit with me. Iwas really--very unhappy when you came, and now--well, you smoothed awaysome misunderstandings--I'm more than grateful. And it isn't natural fora woman to refuse diamonds, Jennie."
"I know it isn't; and I won't quite refuse them. I'll postpone. It ispossible that something I shall do before long may seriously offend you.If it does--then good-bye to the necklace! If it doesn't, when I havetold you all about my misdeed--I shall confess courageously--you willgive me the diamonds."
"Dear me, Jennie, what terrible crime are you about to commit? Why nottell me now? You have no idea how you have aroused my curiosity."
"I dare not tell you, Princess; not until my project proves a success ora failure. We women--some have our way made for us--others have our ownway to make. I am among the others, and I hope you will remember that,if you are ever angry with me."
"Is it a new kind of speculation? A fortune made in a da
y? Gambling?"
"Something of that sort. I am going to stake a good deal on the turn ofa card; so please pray that luck will not be against me."
"If pluck will make you win, I am sure you will carry it through, butif at first you don't succeed, try, try again; and if you haven't themoney, I'll supply the capital. I know I should like to gamble. Anyhow,you have my best wishes for your success."
"Thank you, Princess. I can hardly fail after that."
The time had come when the two friends must part. The carriage waswaiting to take Miss Baxter to the station, and the girl bade good-byeto her hostess with an uneasy feeling that she was acting disloyally toone who had befriended her. In her handbag was the invitation to theball, and also the letter she had written in the Princess's nameaccepting it, which latter she posted in Meran. In due course shereached London, and presented herself to the editor of the _DailyBugle_.
"Well, Miss Baxter," he said, "you have been extraordinarily successfulin solving the diamond mystery, and I congratulate you. My letterreached you, I suppose. Have you given any thought to the problemthat now confronts us? Can you get us a full report of the Duchess ofChiselhurst's ball, written so convincingly that all the guests who readit will know that the writer was present?"
"It is entirely a question of money, Mr. Hardwick."
"Most things are. Well, we are prepared to spend money to get just whatwe want."
"How much?"
"Whatever is necessary."
"That's vague. Put it into figures."
"Five hundred pounds; seven hundred; a thousand if need be."
"It will not cost you a thousand, and it may come to more than fivehundred. Place the thousand to my credit, and I shall return what isleft. I must go at once to Paris and carry out my plans from that city."
"Then you have thought out a scheme. What is it?"
"I have not only thought it out, but most of the arrangements arealready made. I cannot say more about it. You will have to trust whollyto me."
"There is a good deal of money at stake, Miss Baxter, and our reputationas a newspaper as well. I think I should know what you propose to do."
"Certainly. I propose to obtain for you an accurate description of theball, written by one who was present."
The editor gave utterance to a sort of interjection that always servedhim in place of a laugh.
"In other words, you want neither interference nor advice."
"Exactly, Mr. Hardwick. You know from experience that little good comesof talking too much of a secret project not yet completed."
The editor drummed with his fingers on the table for a few momentsthoughtfully.
"Very well, then, it shall be as you say. I should have been very gladto share the responsibility of failure with you; but if you prefer totake the whole risk yourself, there is nothing more to be said. Thethousand pounds shall be placed to your credit at once. What next?"
"On the night of the ball I should like you to have three or four expertshorthand writers here; I don't know how many will be necessary--youunderstand more about that than I do; but it is my intention to dictatethe report right along as fast as I can talk until it is finished, andI don't wish to be stopped or interrupted, so I want the beststenographers you have; they are to relieve one another just as ifthey were taking down a parliamentary speech. The men had better be inreadiness at midnight; I shall be here as soon after that as possible.If you will kindly run over their type-written MS. before it goes tothe compositors, I will glance at the proofs when I have finisheddictating."
"Then you hope to attend the ball yourself."
"Perhaps."
"You have just returned from the Tyrol, and I fear you don't quiteappreciate the difficulties that are in the way. This is no ordinarysociety function, and if you think even a thousand pounds will gainadmittance to an uninvited guest, you will find yourself mistaken."
"So I understood from your letter."
Again the editorial interjection did duty for a laugh.
"You are very sanguine, Miss Baxter. I wish I felt as confident;however, we will hope for the best, and if we cannot command success, wewill at least endeavour to deserve it."
Jennie, with the thousand pounds at her disposal, went to Paris, tookrooms at the most aristocratic hotel, engaged a maid, and set about theconstruction of a ball dress that would be a dream of beauty. Luckily,she knew exactly the gown-making resources of Paris, and the craftsmento whom she gave her orders were not the less anxious to please her whenthey knew that the question of cost was not to be considered. FromParis she telegraphed in the name of the Princess von Steinheimer toClaridge's Hotel for an apartment on the night of the ball, and askedthat a suitable equipage be provided to convey her to and from thatfestival.
Arriving at Claridge's, she was well aware her first danger was thatsomeone who knew the Princess von Steinheimer would call upon her; buton the valid plea of fatigue from her journey she proclaimed that in nocircumstances could she see any visitor, and thus shipwreck was avoidedat the outset. It was unlikely that the Princess von Steinheimer waspersonally known to many who would attend the ball; in fact, thePrincess had given to Jennie as her main reason for refusing theinvitation the excuse that she knew no one in London. She had beeninvited merely because of the social position of the Prince inVienna, and was unknown by sight even to her hostess, the Duchess ofChiselhurst. Critically, she compared the chances of success with thechances of failure, and often it seemed that disaster was inevitable,unversed as she knew herself to be in the customs of grand society atone of its high functions, but nevertheless she was undaunted by theodds against her, and resolved to stake a career on the fortunes of anight.