CHAPTER X
MISS BRENT'S STRATEGY
Having become reconciled to what she regarded as Patricia's matrimonialplans, although strongly disapproving of her deplorable flippancy, MissBrent decided that her niece's position must be established in the eyesof her prospective relatives-in-law.
Miss Brent was proud of her family, but still prouder of the fact thatthe founder had come over with that extremely dubious collection ofnotables introduced into England by William of Normandy. To MissBrent, William the Conqueror was what _The Mayflower_ is to allambitious Americans--a social jumping-off point. There were no armylists in 1066, or passengers' lists in 1620.
No one could say with any degree of certainty what it was that GeoffreyBrent did for, or knew about, his ducal master; but it was sufficientlyimportant to gain for him a grant of lands, which he had no more rightto occupy than the Norman had to bestow.
After careful thought Miss Brent had decided upon her line ofoperations. Geoffrey Brent was to be used as a corrective toPatricia's occupation. No family, Miss Brent argued, could be expectedto welcome with open arms a girl who earned her living as the secretaryof an unknown member of parliament. She foresaw complications, fierceopposition, possibly an attempt to break off the engagement. To defeatthis Geoffrey Brent was to be disinterred and flung into the conflict,and Patricia was to owe to her aunt the happiness that was to be hers.Incidentally Miss Brent saw in this circumstance a very usefulfoundation upon which to build for herself a position in the future.
Miss Brent had made up her mind upon two points. One that she wouldcall upon Lady Meyfield, the other that Patricia's engagement must beannounced. Debrett told her all she wanted to know about the Bowens,and she strongly disapproved of what she termed "hole-in-the-cornerengagements." The marriage of a Brent to a Bowen was to her analliance, carrying with it certain social responsibilities,consequently Society must be advised of what was impending. Romancewas a by-product that did not concern either Miss Brent or Society.
Purpose and decision were to Miss Brent what wings and tail are to theswallow: they propelled and directed her. Her mind once made up, tochange it would have appeared to Miss Brent an unpardonable sign ofweakness. Circumstances might alter, thrones totter, but Miss Brent'sdecisions would remain unshaken.
On the day following her meeting with Lady Tanagra and Bowen, MissBrent did three things. She transferred to "The Mayfair Hotel" for onenight, she prepared an announcement of the engagement for _The MorningPost_, and she set out to call upon Lady Meyfield in Grosvenor Square.
The transference to "The Mayfair Hotel" served a double purpose. Itwould impress the people at the newspaper office, and it would alsoshow that Patricia's kinswoman was of some importance.
As Patricia was tapping out upon a typewriter the halting eloquence ofMr. Arthur Bonsor, Miss Brent was being whirled in a taxi first to theoffice of _The Morning Post_ and then on to Grosvenor Square.
"I fully appreciate," tapped Patricia with wandering attention, "thenational importance of pigs."
"Miss Brent!" announced Lady Meyfield's butler.
Miss Brent found herself gazing into a pair of violet eyes that weresmiling a greeting out of a gentle face framed in white hair.
"How do you do!" Lady Meyfield was endeavouring to recall where shecould have met her caller.
"I felt it was time the families met," announced Miss Brent.
Lady Meyfield smiled, that gentle reluctant smile so characteristic ofher. She was puzzled; but too well-bred to show it.
"Won't you have some tea?" She looked about her, then fixing her eyesupon a dark man in khaki, with smouldering eyes, called to him,introduced him, and had just time to say:
"Godfrey, see that Miss Brent has some tea," when a rush of callersswept Miss Brent and Captain Godfrey Elton further into the room.
Miss Brent looked about her with interest. She had read of how LadyMeyfield had turned her houses, both town and country, intoconvalescent homes for soldiers; but she was surprised to see men inhospital garb mixing freely with the other guests. Elton saw hersurprise.
"Lady Meyfield has her own ideas of what is best," he remarked as hehanded her a cup of tea.
Miss Brent looked up interrogatingly.
"She had some difficulty at first," continued Elton; "but eventuallyshe got her own way as she always does. Now the official hospitalssend her their most puzzling cases and she cures them."
"How?" enquired Miss Brent with interest.
"Imagination," said Elton, bowing to a pretty brunette at the otherside of the room. "She is too wise to try and fatten a canary on a dogbiscuit."
"Does she keep canaries then?" enquired Miss Brent.
"I'm afraid that was only my clumsy effort at metaphor," respondedElton with a disarming smile. "She adopts human methods. They aregenerally successful."
Elton went on to describe something of the success that had attendedLady Meyfield's hostels, as she called them. They were famousthroughout the Service. When war broke out someone had suggested thatshe should use her tact and knowledge of human nature in treating casesthat defied the army M.O.'s. "A tyrant is the first victim of tact,"Godfrey Elton had said of Lord Meyfield, and in his ready acquiescencein his lady's plans Lord Meyfield had tacitly concurred.
Lady Meyfield had conferred with her lord in respect to all her plansand arrangements, until he had come to regard the hostels as thechildren of his own brain, admirably controlled and conducted by hiswife. He seldom appeared, keeping to the one place free from the floodof red, white, and blue--his library. Here with his books andterra-cottas he "grew old with a grace worthy of his rank," as Eltonphrased it.
Lady Meyfield's "cases" were mostly those of shell-shock, or nervoustroubles. She studied each patient's needs, and decided whether herequired diversion or quiet: if diversion, he was sent to her townhouse; if quiet, he went to one of her country houses.
At first it had been thought that a woman could not discipline a numberof men; but Lady Meyfield had settled this by allowing them todiscipline themselves. All misdemeanours were reported to and judgedby a committee of five elected by ballot from among the patients.Their decisions were referred to Lady Meyfield for ratification. Theresult was that in no military hospital, or convalescent home, in thecountry was the discipline so good.
Miss Brent listened perfunctorily to Elton's description of LadyMeyfield's success. She had not come to Grosvenor Square to hear abouthostels, or the curing of shell-shocked soldiers, and her eyes rovedrestlessly about the room.
"You know Lord Peter?" she enquired at length.
"Intimately," Elton replied as he took her cup from her.
"Do you like him?" Miss Brent was always direct.
"Unquestionably." Elton's tone was that of a man who found nothingunusual either in the matter or method of interrogation.
"Is he steady?" was the next question.
"As a rock," responded Elton, beginning to enjoy a novel experience.
"Why doesn't he live here?" demanded Miss Brent.
"Who, Peter?"
Miss Brent nodded.
"No room. The soldiers, you know," he added.
"No room for her own son?" Miss Brent's tone was in itself anaccusation against Lady Meyfield of unnaturalness.
"Oh! Peter understands," was Elton's explanation.
"Oh!" Miss Brent looked sharply at him. For a minute there wassilence.
"You have been wounded?" Miss Brent indicated the blue band upon hisarm. Her question arose, not from any interest she felt; but sherequired time in which to reorganise her attack.
"I am only waiting for my final medical board, as I hope," Eltonreplied.
"You know Lady Tanagra?" Miss Brent was feeling some annoyance withthis extremely self-possessed young man.
"Yes," was Elton's reply. He wondered if the next question would dealwith her steadiness.
"I suppose you are a friend of the family?" was Miss Brent's nextquestion.
/> Elton bowed.
"Good afternoon, sir." The speaker was a soldier in hospital blue, arugged little man known among his fellows as "Uncle."
"Hullo! Uncle, how are you?" said Elton, shaking hands.
Miss Brent noticed a warmth in Elton's tone that was in marked contrastto the even tone of courtesy with which he had answered her questions.
"Oh, just 'oppin' on to 'eaven, sir," replied Uncle. "Sort of sittin'up an' takin' notice."
Elton introduced Uncle to Miss Brent, an act that seemed to her quiteunnecessary.
"And where were you wounded?" asked Miss Brent conventionally.
"Clean through the buttocks, mum," replied Uncle simply.
Miss Brent flushed and cast a swift glance at Elton, whose face showedno sign. She turned to Uncle and regarded him severely; but he wasblissfully unaware of having offended.
"Can't sit down now, mum, without it 'urtin'," added Uncle,interpreting Miss Brent's steady gaze as betokening interest.
"Oh, Goddy! I've been trying to fight my way across to you for hours."The pretty brunette to whom Elton had bowed joined the group. "I'vebeen giving you the glad eye all the afternoon and you merely bow.Well, Uncle, how's the wound?"
Miss Brent gasped. She was unaware that Uncle's wound was the standingjoke among all Lady Meyfield's guests.
"Oh! I'm gettin' on, thank you," said Uncle cheerfully. "Mustn'tcomplain."
"Isn't he a darling?" The girl addressed herself to Miss Brent, whomerely stared.
"Do you refer to Uncle or to me?" enquired Elton.
"Why both, of course; but--" she paused and, screwing up her piquantelittle face in thought she added, "but I think Uncle's the darlingerthough, don't you?"
Again she challenged Miss Brent.
"Good job my missis can't 'ear 'er," was Uncle's comment to Elton.
"There, you see!" cried the girl gaily, "Uncle talks about his wifewhen I make love to him, and as for Goddy," she turned and regardedElton with a quizzical expression, "he treats my passion with a lookthat clearly says prunes and prisms."
Miss Brent's head was beginning to whirl. Somewhere at the back of hermind was the unuttered thought, What would Little Milstead think ofsuch conversation? She was brought back to Lady Meyfield'sdrawing-room by hearing the brunette once more addressing her.
"They're the two most interesting men in the room. I call them theDove and the Serpent. Uncle has the guilelessness of the dove, whilstGodfrey has all the wisdom of the serpent. The three of us togetherwould make a most perfect Garden of Eden. Wouldn't we, Goddy?"
"You are getting a little confused, Peggy," said Elton. "This is not afancy dress----"
"Stop him, someone!" cried the brunette, "he's going to say somethingnaughty."
Elton smiled, Miss Brent continued to stare, whilst Uncle with a grinof admiration cried:
"Lor', don't she run on!"
"Now come along, Uncle!" cried the girl. "I've found some toppingchocolates, a new kind. They're priceless," and she dragged Uncle offto the end of the table.
"Who was that?" demanded Miss Brent of Elton, disapproval in her lookand tone.
"Lady Peggy Bristowe," replied Elton.
Miss Brent was impressed. The Bristowes traced their ancestry so farback as to make William the Norman's satellites look almost upstarts.
"She is a little overpowering at first, isn't she?" remarked Elton,smiling in spite of himself at the conflicting emotions depicted uponMiss Brent's face; but Lady Peggy gave her no time to reply. She wasback again like a shaft of April sunshine.
"Here, open your mouth, Goddy," she cried, "they're delicious."
Elton did as he was bid, and Lady Peggy popped a chocolate in, thenwiping her finger and thumb daintily upon a ridiculously small piece ofcambric, she stood in front of Elton awaiting his verdict.
"Like it?" she demanded, her head on one side like a bird, and herwhole attention concentrated upon Elton.
"Apart from a suggestion of furniture polish," began Elton, "it is----"
"Hun!" cried Lady Peggy as she whisked over to where she had left Uncle.
"Lady Peggy is rather spoiled," said Elton to Miss Brent. "I fear shetrades upon having the prettiest ankles in London."
Miss Brent turned upon Elton one glance, then with head in air and lipstightly compressed, she stalked away. Elton watched her in surprise,unconscious that his casual reference to the ankles of the daughter ofa peer had been to Miss Brent the last straw.
"Hate at the prow and virtue at the helm," he murmured as shedisappeared.
Miss Brent was now convinced beyond all power of argument to thecontrary that her call had landed her in the very midst of anultra-fast set. She was unaware that Godfrey Elton was notorious amonghis friends for saying the wrong thing to the right people.
"You never know what Godfrey will say," his Aunt Caroline had remarkedon one occasion when he had just confided to the vicar that allintrospective women have thick ankles, "and the dear vicar is sosensitive."
It seemed that whenever Elton elected to emerge from the mantle ofsilence with which he habitually clothed himself, it was in thepresence of either a sensitive vicar or someone who was sensitivewithout being a vicar.
Once when Lady Gilcray had rebuked him for openly admiring Jenny Adam'slegs, which were displayed each night to an appreciative public at theFutility Theatre, Elton had replied, "A woman's legs are to me whatthey are to God," which had silenced her Ladyship, who was not quitesure whether it was rank blasphemy or a classical quotation; but shenever forgave him.
Miss Brent made several efforts to approach Lady Meyfield to have a fewminutes' talk with her about the subject of her call; but withoutsuccess. She was always surrounded either by arriving or departingguests, and soldiers seemed perpetually hovering about ready to pounceupon her at the first opportunity.
At last Miss Brent succeeded in attracting her hostess' attention, andbefore she knew exactly what had happened, Lady Meyfield had shakenhands, thanked her for coming, hoped she would come again soon, andMiss Brent was walking downstairs her mission unaccomplished. Her onlyconsolation was the knowledge that within the next day or two _TheMorning Post_ would put matters upon a correct footing.
A mile away Patricia was tapping out upon her typewriter that "pigs arethe potential saviours of the Empire."