MISS MILLION IN LOVE
AT last I have been allowed to get to the bottom of what this
extraordinary place, the "Refuge," really is!
It is no more a lunatic asylum, of course, than it is a nunnery.
It started life by being a big Sussex farmhouse.
Then some truly enterprising person took it on as a lodging-house for
summer visitors, also for a tea-garden for motorists.
Then it happened that England's premier comedienne, Miss Vi Vassity, who
was motoring through on her way from a week-end at Brighton, saw the
place. She fell in love with it as the fulfilment of one of her dreams.
It appeared that she has always wanted to set up a lodging-house for
hard-up theatrical girls who are what they call "resting," that is, out
of a job for the moment.
I have picked up from Million and from the others that London's Love has
the kindest heart in all London for those members of her profession who
have been less successful than she has. She has a hundred pensioners;
she is simply besieged with begging-letters. It is a wonder that there
is any of her own salary left for this bright-haired, sharp-tongued
artiste to live on!
Well, to cut a long story short, she bought the place. Here it is,
crammed full of stage girls and women of one sort and another, mostly
from the music-halls. The woman with the hair is Miss Alethea Ashton,
the "serio." The honey-blonde in the dressing-jacket, who sat at one
side of me at dinner, is "Marmora, the Twentieth Century Hebe," who
renders classic poses or "breathing marbles."
The tiny, gipsy-looking one on my other side is Miss Verry Verry, the
boy impersonator, who appears in man-o'-war suits and sailor hats. There
is a snake-charmer lady and a ventriloquist's assistant, and I have not
yet been able to discover who all the others were.
Miss Vi Vassity lets those pay her who can. The others owe "until their
ship comes in"; but the mistress of the place keeps a shrewd though
kindly eye on all their doings, and she comes down at least once a week
herself to make sure that all is well with "Refuge" and "Refugettes."
The secret of her sudden pilgrimage into Sussex the other night was that
she had received a telephone message at the club of The Thousand and One
Nights to inform her of still another arrival at the "Refuge." This was
the infant daughter of the ventriloquist's assistant, who is also the
ventriloquist's wife. This event seems to have come off some weeks
before it was expected. And at the time the "Refuge" was short of
domestic service; there was no one to wait on the nurse who had been
hastily summoned. The house was at sixes and sevens....
In a fever of hurry Miss Vi Vassity went down, taking with her a
volunteer who said she loved little babies and would do anything to "be
a bit of a help" in the house.
This volunteer was the little heiress, who still kept, under all her new
and silken splendour, the heart of the good-natured, helpful "little
Million" from the Soldiers' Orphanage and the Putney kitchen.
I might have spared myself all my nervous anxiety about Lord
Fourcastles! It seems a bad dream now.
She had motored off then and there with the head of the "Refuge,"
without even waiting to wire from town. Only when they neared their
destination had she thought of sending off a message to me, with the
address where I was to follow her. That message had probably been tossed
into the hedgerow by the tramp to whom it had been hastily entrusted.
Hence my anxiety and suspense, which Miss Million declared had been
nothing compared to her own!
Of course, people who have given terrible frights to their friends
always insist upon it that it is they who have been the frightened ones!
But all this, of course, was what I picked up by degrees, and in
incoherent patches, later on.
Many things had happened before I really got to the rights of the story.
One scene after another has been flicked on to the screen of my
experiences ... but to take things in order.
Perhaps I had better go back to where I was unpacking Million's things
in the transformed farmhouse bedroom, and where I was confronted with a
fresh anxiety.
Namely, that the wealthy and ingenuous and inexperienced Million really
had fallen in love with that handsome ne'er-do-weel, Mr. James Burke.
"Have you?" I persisted. "Have you?"
Million gave a little admitting sigh. She sat there on the edge of the
dimity bed, and watched me shake out that detested evening frock in
which she had motored down.
She has got it so crumpled that I shall make it the excuse never to let
her wear it again.
"The Honourable Mr. Burke," said Million, with a far-away look in her
eyes, "is about the handsomest gentleman that I have ever seen."
"I daresay," I said quite severely. "Certainly there is no denying the
Honourable Jim's good looks. Part of his stock-in-trade! But you know,
Miss Million"--here I brought out the eternal copy-book maxim--"Handsome
is as handsome does!"
Hereupon Million voiced the sentiment that I had always cherished myself
concerning that old proverb.
"It may be true. But then, it always seems to me, somehow, as if it was
neither here nor there!"
I didn't know what to say. It seemed so very evident that Million had
set her innocent and affectionate heart on a young man who was
good-looking enough in his Celtic, sooty-haired, corn-cockle, blue-eyed
way, but who really had nothing else to recommend him. Everything to be
said against him, in fact. Insincere, unscrupulous, cynical, unreliable;
everything that's bad, bad, BAD!
"You can't say he isn't a gentleman, now," put in Million again, with a
defiant shake of her little dark head. "That you can't say."
"Well, I don't know. It depends," I said, in a very sermonising voice.
"It all depends upon what you call 'a gentleman.'"
"No, it doesn't," contradicted Miss Million unexpectedly. "You know
yourself it doesn't depend upon 'what you call' anything. Either he is,
or he isn't. That Auntie of yours would ha' told you that. And stuck-up
and stand-offish and a perfect terror as she was, she'd have been the
first to admit that the Honourable Mr. Burke was one of her own sort!"
I couldn't help smiling a little. Million had hit it. This would have
been exactly Aunt Anastasia's attitude!
"And don't you remember what my great wish always was? Whenever there
was a new moon, or anything," Million reminded me, "you used to want
money and nice clothes. But there was something I wanted--quite
different. I wanted to marry a gentleman. I--I still want it!"
Her underlip quivered as she gazed out of the lattice-window at the
peaceful bare Sussex landscape. Her grey eyes were full of tears and of
dreams. As for me, I felt half-sorrowful for her, half-furious with the
Hon. Jim; the person whom nobody but a perfect innocent, like Million,
would dream of liking or taking seriously!... Reprobate! He ought to be
horsewhipped!
I remembered his whimsical horror in that tea-shop when he had exclaimed
to me: "Marry her? Marry a girl with hands like that, or a voice like
that?" Yet he had made "a girl with a voice like that" dreamily in love
with him. Really my heart swelled quite passionately with resentment
against him.
I wondered how far he had been trifling with her honest heart, both
yesterday night at the Thousand and One Club, and this morning at lunch
at the "Refuge." He was quite capable of doing one of two despicable
things. Either of flirting desperately and then riding away; or, of
marrying her in spite of what he had said, and then neglecting
everything about her but her income! Which was he going to do, I
wondered.
"Million! Miss Million," I said hastily. "Do you mind telling me if Mr.
Burke has proposed to you?"
Million looked down, showing the dark half-moons of her eyelashes on her
cheeks in a way that I knew she had copied from one of the "Cellandine
Novelettes" which used to be her favourite reading in Putney. She heaved
a deep sigh. And then she said: "Well! Between you and I, he hasn't
spoken yet."
"Yet? Do you mean--do you think he is going to?" I said sharply.
A smile grew over Million's small and bonny face. I must say I think she
grows better-looking every day. Why should the Honourable Jim have made
that unkind remark about her hands? Her face is prettier, probably, than
those of half the wealthy girls he meets. Especially when she dimples
like that.
She said demurely: "Do you know, I don't think any one can expect any
one not to notice when any one is getting really fond of any one!"
This involved sentence meant, I knew, the worst.
It meant that she thought the Honourable Jim was going to ask her to
marry him! And she must have some good reason for thinking so! Or he's
an incorrigible flirt, one of the two!
"If he does ask you to marry him," I pursued, feeling as if I were a
mixture of a schoolmistress and Million's own mother combined, "do you
think you are going to say yes you will?"
"Do I think?" echoed Million ardently. "I don't 'think' anything about
it. I just know I will!"
Oh, dear! Ever since I have been Miss Million's maid I have seemed to
get from one difficulty into another. It is worse than ever now that I
know for certain that the poor little thing imagines she is going to
marry Mr. Burke. She won't ever be happy, even if he does marry her for
her money.
But, stop! There is another thing. Her money?
Supposing her money does go? Well, then, the handsome Irishman will jilt
her quite mercilessly. I know enough about him to know that! And I have
a horrible presentiment that this is exactly what is going to happen.
That shrewd-eyed young American downstairs, Mr. Hiram P. Jessop, will
bring an action to recover for himself all Miss Million's dollars. He
will walk off with the fortune. And my mistress, poor little creature,
will be left without either money or love!
As for me, I shall lose my place. I, too, shan't know what to
do--unless----
Oh, yes. There is always one thing I can do. I shall marry. There is the
proposal of Mr. Reginald Brace, who begged me to say yes to him when he
gets back from Paris.
Thinking over it, I am pretty sure that that is what I shall say.
Really it will be a rest to turn to something as simple and
straightforward as Mr. Reginald Brace after all the complications with
which my life has been beset up till now. So that disposes of me,
Beatrice Lovelace. But what about Nellie Million?
All these reflections passed through my mind in Million's bedroom at the
"Refuge," all the time I was putting the finishing touches to her before
she went down to meet her cousin (and incidentally the man who was going
to rob her of her fortune), Mr. Hiram P. Jessop.
Well, she looked bonny enough to make him feel some compunction about
it, that I would say! The brown taffeta skirt and the new blouse, the
leaf-brown suède shoes and the silk stockings that I had brought down
with me, all suited her admirably.
And besides being becomingly dressed, there was something still more
potently attractive about Million's appearance.
It was that flush and glow and sparkle, that aura that seems to cling
about a woman in love. I had heard before that there is no beauty
culture in the world that can give a woman just that look and that it is
absolutely the most unfailing beautifier. Now I saw with my own dismayed
eyes that it was but too true.
Nellie Million, ex-maid-of-all-work, had fallen in love with Lord
Ballyneck's graceless younger son. The result, so far, was to improve
her looks as much as my hairdressing and the Bond Street shopping for
her had done already.
She was impatient to go down. This, I knew, was not on the new cousin's
account. Poor child, she wanted to rejoin the Honourable Jim!
"But you've got to come with me, Smith, you know," she said, as she
reached the door. "Yes, you have. You have got to introduce me, and be
bothered to your only being my lady's-maid! There isn't much of that
sort of thing at the 'Refuge,' as I can tell you. See how nice and
homely Vi Vassity was about having you sit down with all of us at
dinner?"
I suppressed a smile at the idea of this condescension.
"Besides, he seems to know you pretty well, does my cousin," said little
Miss Million. "And I tell you, Smith, you may be very useful. Talking to
him and keeping him out of the way when Mr. Burke might want to be
having a few words with me, do you see?"
I saw, and my heart sank with dismay. There were fearful complications
ahead. I saw myself later on with Miss Million sobbing over a world that
had crashed into disillusionment just as one of my Aunt Anastasia's
priceless Nankin bowls had once come to pieces in her hand!
Still, I thought, I had better go down and see with my own eyes as much
of the tragedy as it was possible. I thought that the first act of it
might be even rather humorous. Both these young men trying to talk to
Million at once, and Million herself giving all her attention to the
young man who was the least good to her!
We came down into the sitting-room of the "Refuge." It seemed furnished
chiefly with wicker chairs, and brilliant houseboat cushions and very
stagey-looking photographs with huge autographs, put at right angles to
everything else. When we came down to this retreat we found that it was
occupied only by Miss Vi Vassity, leaning back very comfortably in a
deck-chair, and blowing smoke rings from the cigarette that was fastened
into a tiny silver holder, while opposite to her there was seated,
looking very conscientious and gravely interested, my mistress's
American cousin, Mr. Hiram P. Jessop himself.
"Why, where is Mr. Burke got to?" said Million, with a note of
unmistakable disappointment in her voice.
I knew that the poor little thing had been overwhelmingly anxious to
show herself off once more befittingly dressed before the blue,
black-lashed eyes that had last beheld her in somebody else's far too
voluminous garments. "I thought he was still with you, Vi?"
Miss Vi Vassity gave a shrewd, amused laugh.
"Not here, not here, my child!" she quoted lazily. "Our friend Jim said
he had got to push on up to London. He left plenty of messages and kind
loves and so forth for you. And you needn't go bursting yourself with
anxiety that he won't be turning up here again before we are any of us
much older or younger (seeing the jobs some of us have got to keep off
the enemy). He'll be down again presently all right. However, one off,
another on. Here is a new boy for you to play with, Nellie. Says he's a
cousin of yours," with a wave of her cigarette towards Mr. Jessop, who
had now risen to his very Americanly booted feet. "I believe it's true,
too," rattled on Miss Vassity. "He looks to me altogether too wide awake
to work off an old wheeze like 'cousins' if it were not a true one.
Well, cheery-oh, children. I am just off to see if poor Maudie upstairs
has had her gruel. I will leave you to fall into each other's arms. Come
along, Miss Smith. I daresay I can get that nurse to let you have a look
at the new little nipper if you are keen."
I had been standing all this time, of course, examining the photographs
inscribed "Yours to a cinder, Archie," and "To darling Vi, from her
faithful old pal, Gertie."
Now I moved quickly towards the door which Miss Vi Vassity had swung
open.
But my mistress, with a quick little movement, stopped me. "Smith, don't
you go. Vi, I don't want her to go," she protested. "She can pop up and
see that baby afterwards, when it is being bathed. I want her now to
stop and talk to this Mr. Jessop with me. I shan't feel so nervous
then," she added, with her little giggle.
"Please yourselves," said "London's Love," with a laugh and a little nod
for her exit. We three were left alone in the sitting-room.
I really think it is wonderful the way Americans will burst at once into
a flood of friendliness that it will take the average young Englishman
at least three or four years of intimate acquaintance to achieve.
And even then I doubt whether the average young Englishman (take, for
example, my prospective fiancé, Mr. Reginald Brace) would ever be able
to "let himself go" like they do! Never had I heard such a stream of
earnestly spoken compliments, accompanied by glances of such
unmistakable admiration, as young Mr. Jessop immediately proceeded to
lavish on Miss Million.
He told her, if I can remember correctly the sequence of his remarks:
"That he was real delighted to make her acquaintance; that he had
somehow fixed it up in his mind already that she would be a real, sweet
little girl when he got to know her, and that even he hadn't calculated
what a little Beaut she was going to turn out----"
"Oh, listen to him! If it isn't another of them!" exclaimed the artless
Million, all blushes and smiles as she turned to me; I felt as if I were
a referee in some game of which I wasn't quite certain about the rules.
Mr. Jessop went on to inform his cousin that she had the real, English,
peach-bloom complexion that was so much admired in the States; only that
she did her hair so much better than the way most English girls seemed
to fix theirs.
Here I nearly dropped a little curtsey. The arrangement of Million's
dark, glossy hair stands to my credit!
"There's a style about your dressing that I like, too. So real simple
and girlish," approved Mr. Jessop, with his eyes on the faultlessly cut,
tobacco-brown taffeta that had cost at least four times as much as the
elaborately thought-out crime in cerise which should have been on
Million's conscience. "I must say you take my breath away with your
pretty looks, Cousin Nellie; you do, indeed. If I may say so, you appear
to be the sort of little girl that any one might be thankful to have to
cherish as the regular little queen of the home."
Hereupon Million glowed as pink as any of the roses that were spreading
their sweetness abroad on the warm afternoon air outside the gaily
curtained window.
"Doesn't that sound lovely!" she exclaimed.
There was a wistfulness in her voice. I was afraid I knew only too well
what that wistfulness portended if I could read Million at all (and I
really think I ought to be able to now). That wistfulness meant "How
much lovelier it would be if the Honourable Jim Burke had been the one
to pay me that compliment about being the queen of the home!"
Then she added to the young American, whose boyish eyes were fixed
unflinchingly upon her: "Do you know, I am afraid you are an awful
flatterer and deceiver. You are just trying to see how much I am going
to take in about you thinking me nice-looking and all that!"
If she could only have had these misgivings about Mr. Burke himself,
instead of their being about the cousin who, I think, says very little
that he does not really mean! Always the wrong people get credit for
insincerity! "I am not a flatterer, believe me," said Mr. Hiram P.
Jessop. "If you think that I don't mean anything I say nice to you, why!
I am going to be very sad. I would like to have only nice things to say
to you," he added regretfully, "and I tell you it is coming real hard
on me--harder than I thought it would be, to have to say the difficult
things I have gotten to say now, Cousin Nellie."
So now he was coming to the business end of the interview! The part
where he meant to tell Million that her appreciative and gallant cousin
was possibly going to walk off with that fortune of hers!
I rose from my chair. I said respectfully: "Shall I go, Miss, if Mr.
Jessop is going to talk family affairs?"