29. ETHELBERTA'S DRESSING-ROOM--MR. DONCASTLE'S HOUSE
The dressing of Ethelberta for the dinner-party was an undertaking intowhich Picotee threw her whole skill as tirewoman. Her energies werebrisker that day than they had been at any time since the Julians firstmade preparations for departure from town; for a letter had come to herfrom Faith, telling of their arrival at the old cathedral city, which wasfound to suit their inclinations and habits infinitely better thanLondon; and that she would like Picotee to visit them there some day.Picotee felt, and so probably felt the writer of the letter, that such avisit would not be very practicable just now; but it was a pleasant idea,and for fastening dreams upon was better than nothing.
Such musings were encouraged also by Ethelberta's remarks as the dressingwent on.
'We will have a change soon,' she said; 'we will go out of town for a fewdays. It will do good in many ways. I am getting so alarmed about thehealth of the children; their faces are becoming so white and thin andpinched that an old acquaintance would hardly know them; and they were soplump when they came. You are looking as pale as a ghost, and I daresayI am too. A week or two at Knollsea will see us right.'
'O, how charming!' said Picotee gladly.
Knollsea was a village on the coast, not very far from Melchester, thenew home of Christopher; not very far, that is to say, in the eye of asweetheart; but seeing that there was, as the crow flies, a stretch ofthirty-five miles between the two places, and that more than one-thirdthe distance was without a railway, an elderly gentleman might haveconsidered their situations somewhat remote from each other.
'Why have you chosen Knollsea?' inquired Picotee.
'Because of aunt's letter from Rouen--have you seen it?'
'I did not read it through.'
'She wants us to get a copy of the register of her baptism; and she isnot absolutely certain which of the parishes in and about Knollsea theywere living in when she was born. Mother, being a year younger, cannottell of course. First I thought of writing to the clergyman of eachparish, but that would be troublesome, and might reveal the secret of mybirth; but if we go down there for a few days, and take some lodgings, weshall be able to find out all about it at leisure. Gwendoline and Joeycan attend to mother and the people downstairs, especially as father willlook in every evening until he goes out of town, to see if they aregetting on properly. It will be such a weight off my soul to slip awayfrom acquaintances here.'
'Will it?'
'Yes. At the same time I ought not to speak so, for they have been verykind. I wish we could go to Rouen afterwards; aunt repeats herinvitation as usual. However, there is time enough to think of that.'
Ethelberta was dressed at last, and, beholding the lonely look of poorPicotee when about to leave the room, she could not help having asympathetic feeling that it was rather hard for her sister to be deniedso small an enjoyment as a menial peep at a feast when she herself was tosit down to it as guest.
'If you still want to go and see the procession downstairs you may doso,' she said reluctantly; 'provided that you take care of your tonguewhen you come in contact with Menlove, and adhere to father'sinstructions as to how long you may stay. It may be in the highestdegree unwise; but never mind, go.'
Then Ethelberta departed for the scene of action, just at the hour of thesun's lowest decline, when it was fading away, yellow and mild as candle-light, and when upper windows facing north-west reflected to persons inthe street dissolving views of tawny cloud with brazen edges, theoriginal picture of the same being hidden from sight by soiled walls andslaty slopes.
Before entering the presence of host and hostess, Ethelberta contrived toexchange a few words with her father.
'In excellent time,' he whispered, full of paternal pride at the superbaudacity of her situation here in relation to his. 'About half of themare come.'
'Mr. Neigh?'
'Not yet; he's coming.'
'Lord Mountclere?'
'Yes. He came absurdly early; ten minutes before anybody else, so thatMrs. D. could hardly get on her bracelets and things soon enough toscramble downstairs and receive him; and he's as nervous as a boy. Keepup your spirits, dear, and don't mind me.'
'I will, father. And let Picotee see me at dinner if you can. She isvery anxious to look at me. She will be here directly.'
And Ethelberta, having been announced, joined the chamberful of assembledguests, among whom for the present we lose sight of her.
* * * * *
Meanwhile the evening outside the house was deepening in tone, and thelamps began to blink up. Her sister having departed, Picotee hastilyarrayed herself in a little black jacket and chip hat, and tripped acrossthe park to the same point. Chickerel had directed a maid-servant knownas Jane to receive his humbler daughter and make her comfortable; andthat friendly person, who spoke as if she had known Picoteefive-and-twenty years, took her to the housekeeper's room, where thevisitor deposited her jacket and hat, and rested awhile.
A quick-eyed, light-haired, slight-built woman came in when Jane hadgone. 'Are you Miss Chickerel?' she said to Picotee.
'Yes,' said Picotee, guessing that this was Menlove, and fearing her alittle.
'Jane tells me that you have come to visit your father, and would like tolook at the company going to dinner. Well, they are not much to see, youknow; but such as they are you are welcome to the sight of. Come alongwith me.'
'I think I would rather wait for father, if you will excuse me, please.'
'Your father is busy now; it is no use for you to think of sayinganything to him.'
Picotee followed her guide up a back staircase to the height of severalflights, and then, crossing a landing, they descended to the upper partof the front stairs.
'Now look over the balustrade, and you will see them all in a minute,'said Mrs. Menlove. 'O, you need not be timid; you can look out as far asyou like. We are all independent here; no slavery for us: it is not asit is in the country, where servants are considered to be of differentblood and bone from their employers, and to have no eyes for anything buttheir work. Here they are coming.'
Picotee then had the pleasure of looking down upon a series of humancrowns--some black, some white, some strangely built upon, some smoothand shining--descending the staircase in disordered column and greatdiscomfort, their owners trying to talk, but breaking off in the midst ofsyllables to look to their footing. The young girl's eyes had notdrooped over the handrail more than a few moments when she softlyexclaimed, 'There she is, there she is! How lovely she looks, does shenot?'
'Who?' said Mrs. Menlove.
Picotee recollected herself, and hastily drew in her impulses. 'My dearmistress,' she said blandly. 'That is she on Mr. Doncastle's arm. Andlook, who is that funny old man the elderly lady is helping downstairs?'
'He is our honoured guest, Lord Mountclere. Mrs. Doncastle will have himall through the dinner, and after that he will devote himself to Mrs.Petherwin, your "dear mistress." He keeps looking towards her now, andno doubt thinks it a nuisance that she is not with him. Well, it isuseless to stay here. Come a little further--we'll follow them.' Menlovebegan to lead the way downstairs, but Picotee held back.
'Won't they see us?' she said.
'No. And if they do, it doesn't matter. Mrs. Doncastle would not objectin the least to the daughter of her respected head man being accidentallyseen in the hall.'
They descended to the bottom and stood in the hall. 'O, there's father!'whispered Picotee, with childlike gladness, as Chickerel became visibleto her by the door. The butler nodded to his daughter, and became againengrossed in his duties.
'I wish I could see her--my mistress--again,' said Picotee.
'You seem mightily concerned about your mistress,' said Menlove. 'Do youwant to see if you have dressed her properly?'
'Yes, partly; and I like her, too. She is very kind to me.'
'You will have a chance of seeing her soon. When the door is nicely openyou can look in for a mo
ment. I must leave you now for a few minutes,but I will come again.'
Menlove departed, and Picotee stood waiting. She wondered how Ethelbertawas getting on, and whether she enjoyed herself as much as it seemed herduty to do in such a superbly hospitable place. Picotee then turned herattention to the hall, every article of furniture therein appearingworthy of scrutiny to her unaccustomed eyes. Here she walked and lookedabout for a long time till an excellent opportunity offered itself ofseeing how affairs progressed in the dining-room.
Through the partly-opened door there became visible a sideboard whichfirst attracted her attention by its richness. It was, indeed, anoticeable example of modern art-workmanship, in being exceptionallylarge, with curious ebony mouldings at different stages; and, while theheavy cupboard doors at the bottom were enriched with inlays of palerwood, other panels were decorated with tiles, as if the massivecomposition had been erected on the spot as part of the solid building.However, it was on a space higher up that Picotee's eyes and thoughtswere fixed. In the great mirror above the middle ledge she could seereflected the upper part of the dining-room, and this suggested to herthat she might see Ethelberta and the other guests reflected in the sameway by standing on a chair, which, quick as thought, she did.
To Picotee's dazed young vision her beautiful sister appeared as thechief figure of a glorious pleasure-parliament of both sexes, surroundedby whole regiments of candles grouped here and there about the room. Sheand her companions were seated before a large flowerbed, or small hanginggarden, fixed at about the level of the elbow, the attention of all beingconcentrated rather upon the uninteresting margin of the bed, and uponeach other, than on the beautiful natural objects growing in the middle,as it seemed to Picotee. In the ripple of conversation Ethelberta'sclear voice could occasionally be heard, and her young sister could seethat her eyes were bright, and her face beaming, as if divers socialwants and looming penuriousness had never been within her experience. Mr.Doncastle was quite absorbed in what she was saying. So was the queerold man whom Menlove had called Lord Mountclere.
'The dashing widow looks very well, does she not?' said a person atPicotee's elbow.
It was her conductor Menlove, now returned again, whom Picotee had quiteforgotten.
'She will do some damage here to-night you will find,' continued Menlove.'How long have you been with her?'
'O, a long time--I mean rather a short time,' stammered Picotee.
'I know her well enough. I was her maid once, or rather her mother-in-law's, but that was long before you knew her. I did not by any meansfind her so lovable as you seem to think her when I had to do with her atclose quarters. An awful flirt--awful. Don't you find her so?'
'I don't know.'
'If you don't yet you will know. But come down from your perch--thedining-room door will not be open again for some time--and I will showyou about the rooms upstairs. This is a larger house than Mrs.Petherwin's, as you see. Just come and look at the drawing-rooms.'
Wishing much to get rid of Menlove, yet fearing to offend her, Picoteefollowed upstairs. Dinner was almost over by this time, and when theyentered the front drawing-room a young man-servant and maid were thererekindling the lights.
'Now let's have a game of cat-and-mice,' said the maid-servant cheerily.'There's plenty of time before they come up.'
'Agreed,' said Menlove promptly. 'You will play, will you not, MissChickerel?'
'No, indeed,' said Picotee, aghast.
'Never mind, then; you look on.'
Away then ran the housemaid and Menlove, and the young footman started attheir heels. Round the room, over the furniture, under the furniture,through the furniture, out of one window, along the balcony, in atanother window, again round the room--so they glided with the swiftnessof swallows and the noiselessness of ghosts.
Then the housemaid drew a jew's-harp from her pocket, and struck up alively waltz sotto voce. The footman seized Menlove, who appearednothing loth, and began spinning gently round the room with her, to thetime of the fascinating measure
'Which fashion hails, from countesses to queens, And maids and valets dance behind the scenes.'
Picotee, who had been accustomed to unceiled country cottages all herlife, wherein the scamper of a mouse is heard distinctly from floor tofloor, exclaimed in a terrified whisper, at viewing all this, 'They'llhear you underneath, they'll hear you, and we shall all be ruined!'
'Not at all,' came from the cautious dancers. 'These are some of thebest built houses in London--double floors, filled in with material thatwill deaden any row you like to make, and we make none. But come andhave a turn yourself, Miss Chickerel.'
The young man relinquished Menlove, and on the spur of the moment seizedPicotee. Picotee flounced away from him in indignation, backing into acorner with ruffled feathers, like a pullet trying to appear a hen.
'How dare you touch me!' she said, with rounded eyes. 'I'll tellsomebody downstairs of you, who'll soon see about it!'
'What a baby; she'll tell her father.'
'No I shan't; somebody you are all afraid of, that's who I'll tell.'
'Nonsense,' said Menlove; 'he meant no harm.'
Playtime was now getting short, and further antics being dangerous onthat account, the performers retired again downstairs, Picotee ofnecessity following. Her nerves were screwed up to the highest pitch ofuneasiness by the grotesque habits of these men and maids, who were quiteunlike the country servants she had known, and resembled nothing so muchas pixies, elves, or gnomes, peeping up upon human beings from theirshady haunts underground, sometimes for good, sometimes for ill--sometimesdoing heavy work, sometimes none; teasing and worrying with impishlaughter half suppressed, and vanishing directly mortal eyes were bent onthem. Separate and distinct from overt existence under the sun, thislife could hardly be without its distinctive pleasures, all of them beingmore or less pervaded by thrills and titillations from games of hazard,and the perpetual risk of sensational surprises.
Long before this time Picotee had begun to be anxious to get home again,but Menlove seemed particularly to desire her company, and pressed her tosit awhile, telling her young friend, by way of entertainment, of variousextraordinary love adventures in which she had figured as heroine whentravelling on the Continent. These stories had one and all a remarkablelikeness in a certain point--Menlove was always unwilling to love theadorer, and the adorer was always unwilling to live afterwards on accountof it.
'Ha-ha-ha!' in men's voices was heard from the distant dining-room as thetwo women went on talking.
'And then,' continued Menlove, 'there was that duel I was the cause ofbetween the courier and the French valet. Dear me, what a trouble thatwas; yet I could do nothing to prevent it. This courier was a veryhandsome man--they are handsome sometimes.'
'Yes, they are. My aunt married one.'
'Did she? Where do they live?'
'They keep an hotel at Rouen,' murmured Picotee, in doubt whether thisshould have been told or not.
'Well, he used to follow me to the English Church every Sunday regularly,and I was so determined not to give my hand where my heart could neverbe, that I slipped out at the other door while he stood expecting me bythe one I entered. Here I met M. Pierre, when, as ill luck would haveit, the other came round the corner, and seeing me talking to the valet,he challenged him at once.'
'Ha-ha-ha!' was heard again afar.
'Did they fight?' said Picotee.
'Yes, I believe they did. We left Nice the next day; but I heard sometime after of a duel not many miles off, and although I could not gethold of the names, I make no doubt it was between those two gentlemen. Inever knew which of them fell; poor fellow, whichever it was.'
'Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!' came from the dining-room.
'Whatever are those boozy men laughing at, I wonder?' said Menlove. 'Theyare always so noisy when the ladies have gone upstairs. Upon my soul,I'll run up and find out.'
'No, no, don't,' entreated Picotee, putting her
hand on her entertainer'sarm. 'It seems wrong; it is no concern of ours.'
'Wrong be hanged--anything on an impulse,' said Mrs. Menlove, skippingacross the room and out of the door, which stood open, as did others inthe house, the evening being sultry and oppressive.
Picotee waited in her seat until it occurred to her that she could escapethe lady's-maid by going off into her father's pantry in her absence. Butbefore this had been put into effect Menlove appeared again.
'Such fun as they are having up there,' she said. 'Somebody asked Mr.Neigh to tell a story which he had told at some previous time, but he wasvery reluctant to do so, and pretended he could not recollect it. Well,then, the other man--I could not distinguish him by his voice--begantelling it, to prompt Mr. Neigh's memory; and, as far as I couldunderstand, it was about some lady who thought Mr. Neigh was in love withher, and, to find whether he was worth accepting or not, she went withher maid at night to see his estate, and wandered about and got lost, andwas frightened, and I don't know what besides. Then Mr. Neigh laughedtoo, and said he liked such common sense in a woman. No names werementioned, but I fancy, from the awkwardness of Mr. Neigh at beingcompelled to tell it, that the lady is one of those in the drawing-room.I should like to know which it was.'
'I know--have heard something about it,' said Picotee, blushing withanger. 'It was nothing at all like that. I wonder Mr. Neigh had theaudacity ever to talk of the matter, and to misrepresent it so greatly!'
'Tell all about it, do,' said Menlove.
'O no,' said Picotee. 'I promised not to say a word.'
'It is your mistress, I expect.'
'You may think what you like; but the lady is anything but a mistress ofmine.'
The flighty Menlove pressed her to tell the whole story, but finding thisuseless the subject was changed. Presently her father came in, and,taking no notice of Menlove, told his daughter that she had been calledfor. Picotee very readily put on her things, and on going outside foundJoey awaiting her. Mr. Chickerel followed closely, with sharp glancesfrom the corner of his eye, and it was plain from Joey's nervous mannerof lingering in the shadows of the area doorway instead of entering thehouse, that the butler had in some way set himself to prevent allcommunion between the fair lady's-maid and his son for that evening atleast.
He watched Picotee and her brother off the premises, and the pair went ontheir way towards Exonbury Crescent, very few words passing between them.Picotee's thoughts had turned to the proposed visit to Knollsea, and Joeywas sulky under disappointment and the blank of thwarted purposes.