300 PARK STREET,
Thursday evening, _November 24th._
Lady Merrenden is so nice--one of those kind faces that even a tightfringe in a net does not spoil. She is tall and graceful, past fiftyperhaps, and has an expression of Lord Robert about the eyes. At luncheonshe was sweet to me at once, and did not look as if she thought I must bebad just because I have red hair, like elderly ladies do generally.
I felt I wanted to be good and nice directly. She did not allude to mydesolate position or say anything without tact, but she asked me to lunchas if I had been a queen and would honor her by accepting. For some reasonI could see Lady Ver did not wish me to go--she made all sorts of excusesabout wanting me herself--but also, for some reason, Lady Merrenden wasdetermined I should, and finally settled it should be on Saturday, whenLady Ver is going down to Northumberland to her father's, and I amgoing--where? Alas! as yet I know not.
When she had gone Lady Ver said old people without dyed hair or bridgeproclivities were tiresome, and she smoked three cigarettes, one afterthe other as fast as she could. (Welby is going to the theatre againto-night!)
I said I thought Lady Merrenden was charming. She snapped my head off forthe first time, and then there was silence, but presently she began totalk, and fix herself in a most becoming way on the sofa--we were in herown sitting-room, a lovely place, all blue silk and French furniture andattractive things. She said she had a cold and must stay in-doors. She hadchanged immediately into a tea-gown, but I could not hear any cough.
"Charlie has just wired he comes back to-night," she announced, at length.
"How nice for you!" I sympathized; "you will be able to make his heartbeat!"
"As a matter of fact, it is extremely inconvenient, and I want you to benice to him, and amuse him, and take his attention off me, like a pet,Evangeline," she cooed; and then: "What a lovely afternoon for November! Iwish I could go for a walk in the park," she said.
I felt it would be cruel to tease her further, and so announced myintention of taking exercise in that way with the angels.
"Yes, it will do you good, dear child," she said, brightly, "and I willrest here and take care of my cold."
"They have asked me to tea in the nursery," I said, "and I have accepted."
"Jewel of a snake-girl!" she laughed--she is not thick.
"Do you know the Torquilstone history?" she said, just as I was going outof the door.
I came back--why, I can't imagine, but it interested me.
"Robert's brother--half-brother, I mean--the duke, is a cripple, you know,and he is _toque_ on one point too--their blue blood. He will never marry,but he can cut Robert off with almost the bare title if he displeaseshim."
"Yes," I said.
"Torquilstone's mother was one of the housemaids. The old duke married herbefore he was twenty-one, and she, fortunately, joined her beery ancestorsa year or so afterwards; and then much later he married Robert's mother,Lady Etheldrida Fitz Walter. There is sixteen years between them--Robertand Torquilstone, I mean."
"Then what is he _toque_ about blue blood for, with a _tache_ like that?"I asked.
"That is just it. He thinks it is such a disgrace that even if he werenot a humpback he says he would never marry to transmit this stain to thefuture Torquilstones--and if Robert ever marries any one without apedigree enough to satisfy an Austrian prince, he will disown him andleave every sou to charity."
"Poor Lord Robert!" I said, but I felt my cheeks burn.
"Yes, is it not tiresome for him? So, of course, he cannot marry until hisbrother's death, there is almost no one in England suitable."
"It is not so bad, after all," I said; "there is always the delicious roleof the 'married woman's pet,' open to him, isn't there?" and I laughed.
"Little cat!" but she wasn't angry.
"I told you I only scratched when I was scratched first," I said, as Iwent out of the room.
The angels had started for their walk, and Veronique had to come with meat first to find them. We were walking fast down the path beyond StanhopeGate, seeing their blue velvet pelisses in the distance, when we met Mr.Carruthers.
He stopped and turned with me.
"Evangeline, I was so angry with you yesterday," he said. "I very nearlyleft London and abandoned you to your fate, but now that I have seen youagain--" He paused.
"You think Paris is a long way off!" I said, innocently.
"What have they been telling you?" he said, sternly, but he was not quitecomfortable.
"They have been saying it is a fine November, and the Stock Exchange is noplace to play in, and if it weren't for bridge they would all commitsuicide. That is what we talk of at Park Street."
"You know very well what I mean. What have they been telling you aboutme?"
"Nothing, except that there is a charming French lady who adores you, andwhom you are devoted to--and I am so sympathetic. I like Frenchwomen, theyput on their hats so nicely."
"What ridiculous gossip! I don't think Park Street is the place for you tostay. I thought you had more mind than to chatter like this."
"I suit myself to my company." I laughed, and waited for Veronique, whohad stopped respectfully behind. She came up reluctantly. She disapprovesof all English unconventionality, but she feels it her duty to encourageMr. Carruthers.
"Should she run on and stop the young ladies," she suggested, pointing tothe angels in front.
"Yes, do," said Mr. Carruthers, and before I could prevent her she wasoff.
Traitress! She was thinking of her own comfortable quarters at Branches, Iknow.
The sharp, fresh air got into my head. I felt gay, and without care. Isaid heaps of things to Mr. Carruthers, just as I had once before toMalcolm, only this was much more fun, because Mr. Carruthers isn't ared-haired Scotchman and can see things.
It seemed a day of meetings, for when we got down to the end weencountered Lord Robert walking leisurely in our direction. He looked asblack as night when he caught sight of us.
"Hello, Bob!" said Mr. Carruthers, cheerfully. "Ages since I saw you. Willyou come and dine to-night? I have a box for this winter opera that is on,and I am trying to persuade Miss Travers to come. She says Lady Verninghamis not engaged to-night, she knows, and we might dine quietly and all go;don't you think so?"
Lord Robert said he would, but he added, "Miss Travers would never comeout before--she said she was in too deep mourning." He seemed aggrieved.
"I am going to sit in the back of the box and no one will see me," I said."And I do love music so."
"We had better let Lady Verningham know at once then," said Mr.Carruthers.
Lord Robert announced he was going there now, and would tell her.
I knew that. The blue tea-gown with the pink roses, and the lace cap, andthe bad cold were not for nothing. (I wish I had not written this; it isspiteful of me, and I am not spiteful, as a rule. It must be the eastwind.)