THE UGLY DRESS
On that very day I searched through mother's wardrobe and found a
piece of brown barége. It was a harsh and by no means pretty material.
I held it up to the light, and asked her what she was going to do with
it.
"Nothing," she answered, "I bought it ten years ago at a sale of
remnants, and why it has stuck to me all these years is more than I
can tell."
"May I have it?" was my next query.
"Certainly," replied mother, "but you surely are not going to have a
dress made of that ugly thing?"
"May I have it?" I asked again.
"Yes, dear, yes."
I did not say any more with regard to the barége. I turned the
conversation to indifferent matters, but when I left the room I took
it with me. I made it into a parcel and took it out. I went to a
little dressmaker in a street near by. I asked her if she would make
the ugly brown barége into an evening dress. She measured the
material, and said it was somewhat scanty.
"That does not matter," I said, "I _want_ an ugly dress--can you
manage to make a really ugly dress for me out of it?"
"Well, Miss Wickham," she replied, fixing her pale brown eyes on my
face, "I never do go in for making ugly dresses, it would be against
my profession. You don't mean it, do you, Miss Wickham?"
"Put your best work into it," I said, suddenly changing my tone. "Make
it according to your own ideas of the fashion. Picture a young girl
going to a play, or a ball, in that dress, and make it according to
your own ideas."
"May I trim it with golden yellow chiffon and turquoise blue silk
bows?" she asked eagerly, her eyes shining.
"You may," I replied, suppressing an internal shudder. I gave her a
few further directions; she named a day when I should come to be
fitted, and I went home.
In less than a week's time the brown barége arrived back, ready for me
to wear. It was made according to Annie Starr's ideas of a fashionable
evening gown. It was the sort of garment which would have sent the
Duchess or Lady Thesiger into fits on the spot. In the first place,
the bodice was full of wrinkles, it was too wide in the waist, and too
narrow across the chest, but this was a small matter to complain of.
It was the irritating air of vulgarity all over the dress which was so
hard to bear. But, notwithstanding all these defects, it pleased me.
It would, I hoped, answer my purpose, and succeed in making me appear
very unattractive in the eyes of Mr. Randolph.
That evening I put on the brown barége for dinner. The yellow chiffon
and the turquoise blue bows were much in evidence, and I did really
feel that I was a martyr when I went downstairs in that dress with its
_outré_ trimmings.
When I entered the drawing-room, mother glanced up at me as if she did
not know me; she then started, the colour came into her face, and she
motioned me imperatively to her side.
"Go upstairs at once and take that off," she said.
"Oh no, mother," I answered, "there is no time now, besides I--I chose
it, I admire it."
"Take it off immediately, Westenra."
"But it is your dear barége that you have kept for ten years," I said,
trying to be playful; "I must wear it, at least to-night."
I knew that I had never looked worse, and I quite gloried in the fact.
I saw Mr. Randolph from his seat near mother glance at me several
times in a puzzled way, and Mr. Fanning, after one or two astonished
glances, during which he took in the _tout ensemble_ of the ugly robe,
began to enter into a playful bear-like flirtation with Miss
Armstrong. Dear brown barége, what service it was doing me! I secretly
determined that it should be my dinner dress every evening until it
wore itself to rags. When the turquoise blue bows became too shabby,
I might substitute them for magenta ones. I felt that I had suddenly
found an opening out of my difficulty. If I ceased to appear
attractive, Mr. Randolph and Mr. Fanning would cease to worry me, the
rest of the boarders would accept me for what I was, and my Gordian
knot would be cut. Little did I guess! It was by no means so easy to
carry out my fixed determination as I had hoped. In the first place,
poor darling mother nearly fretted herself into an illness on account
of my evening dress. She absolutely cried when she saw me in it, and
said that if I was determined to deteriorate in that way, she would
give up the boarding-house and go to the cottage in the country
without a moment's hesitation. After wearing the dress for three or
four days I was forced, very much against my will, to put on one of my
pretty black dresses, and the barége made by Annie Starr resumed its
place in my wardrobe. I determined to wear it now and then,
however--it had already done me good service. I began to hope that
neither Mr. Randolph nor Mr. Fanning thought me worth looking at when
I appeared in it.
On this evening, as I was dressing for dinner, I heard a wonderful
bumping going on in the stairs. It was the noise made by very heavy
trunks, trunks so large that they seemed scarcely able to be brought
upstairs. They were arriving at the attics, too--they were entering
the attic next to mine. Now that special attic had up to the present
remained untenanted. It was the most disagreeable room in the house.
Most of the attics were quite excellent, but this room had a decidedly
sloping roof, and rather small windows, and the paper on the walls was
ugly, and the accommodation scanty, and what those huge boxes were
going to do there was more than I could tell. The boxes, however,
entered that special attic, and then a bodily presence followed them
briskly, a loud hearty voice was heard to speak. It said in cheerful
tones--
"Thank you, that will do nicely. A large can of hot water, please, and
a couple more candles. Thanks. What hour did you say the company
dined?"
The reply was made in a low tone which I could not catch, and the
attic door was shut.
I was down in the drawing-room in my black dress--(how comfortable I
felt in it, how hateful that brown barége was, after all)--when the
door was opened, and a large, stoutly-made woman, most richly dressed,
came in. She had a quantity of grizzly grey hair, which was turned
back from her expansive forehead; a cap of almost every colour in the
rainbow bedizened her head, she wore diamond pendants in her ears, and
had a flashing diamond brooch fastening the front of her dress. Her
complexion was high, she had a broad mouth and a constant smile. She
walked straight up to Jane Mullins.
"Well," she said, "here I am. I have not unpacked my big trunk, as
your servant said there was very little time before dinner. Please can
you tell me when Albert will be in?"
"Mr. Fanning generally comes home about now," I heard Jane say. "Mrs.
Fanning, may I introduce you to my dear young friend, Miss
Wickham--Mrs. Wickham has not yet appeared."
To my horror I saw Miss Mullins advancing across the drawing-room,
accompanied by the stout woman; they approached to my side.
"May I introduce Mrs. Fanning," said Miss Mullins--"Mr. Fanning's
mother."
"The mother of dear, godly Albert," said the stout lady. "I am proud
to say I am the mother of one of the best of sons. I am right pleased
to meet you, Miss Wickham. I may as well say at once that Albert
Fanning, my dear and only son, has mentioned your name to me, and with
an approval which would make your young cheeks blush. Yes, I am the
last person to encourage vanity in the young, but I must repeat that
if you knew all that Albert has said, you would feel that flutter of
the heart which only joy brings forth. Now, shall we both sit in a
cosy corner and enjoy ourselves, and talk about Albert until dinner is
ready?"
This treat was certainly not likely to cause my young cheeks to blush.
On the contrary, I felt myself turning pale, and I looked round with a
desperate intention of flying to Jane for protection, when the stout
lady took one of my hands.
"Ah," she said, "quite up to date, a slim young hand, and a slim young
figure, and a slim young face, too, for that matter. All that Albert
says is true, you are a _very_ nice-looking girl. I should not say
that you had much durance in you, that remains to be proved. But come,
here's a cosy corner, I have a great deal to say."
That hand of Mrs. Fanning's had a wonderfully clinging effect; it
seemed to encircle my fingers something like an octopus, and she
pulled me gently towards the corner she had in view, and presently had
pinned me there, seating herself well in front of me, so that there
was no possible escape.
The rest of the boarders now entered the drawing-room. Mother amongst
others made her appearance; she went to her accustomed corner, glanced
at me, saw that I was in one of my black dresses, nodded approval,
concluding in her dear mind that I had probably met some old friend in
the extraordinary person who was shutting me into the corner, and took
no further notice.
Captain and Mrs. Furlong were well pleased to see that I was only
talking to a woman, it did not matter at all to them who that woman
was. And as to me I sat perfectly silent while Mrs. Fanning discoursed
on Albert. She never for a single moment, I will say for her, turned
the conversation into another channel. Albert was her theme, and she
stuck to him with the pertinacity which would have done any leader of
a debate credit. The debate was Albert. She intended before dinner was
announced to give me a true insight into that remarkable man's most
remarkable character.
"Yes," she said, "what Albert thinks is always to the point. Since a
child he never gave me what you would call a real heartache.
Determined, self-willed he is; you look, the next time you see him, at
his chin, you observe the cleft in the middle; there never was a chin
like that yet without a mind according--a mind, so to speak, set on
the duty ahead of it--a mind that is determined to conquer. That is
Albert, that is my only, godly son. You observe, when you have an
opportunity, Albert's eyes. Did you ever see anything more open than
the way they look at you? He don't mind whether it hurts your feelings
or not; if he wants to look at you, look he will."
When she said this I nodded my head emphatically, for I had found this
most disagreeable trait in Albert's eyes from the first moment I had
been unfortunate enough to make his acquaintance. But Mrs. Fanning
took my nod in high good humour.
"Ah, you have observed it," she said, "and no wonder, no wonder. Now,
when you get an opportunity, do pull him to pieces, feature by
feature; notice his brow, how lofty it is; there's talent there, and
t'aint what you would call a fly-away talent, such as those art
talents that make me quite sick. He has no talent, thank Heaven, for
painting or for poetry, or for any fal-lal of that kind, his talent
lies in a sound business direction. Oh, he has made me roar, the way
he talks of young authors and young artists, how they come to him with
their wares, and how he beats them down. It's in Albert's brow where
his talent for business lies. You mark his nose too, it's somewhat
long and a little pointed, but it's the nose of a man who will make
his mark; yes, he'll make his mark some day, and I have told him so
over and over."
Having gone through all Albert's features, she next proceeded to
describe Albert's character, and then went on to Albert's future. From
this it was an easy step to Albert's wife, and Albert's wife took up a
great deal of the good woman's attention.
"It is because I am thinking he'll soon be falling into the snares of
matrimony that I have come to stay at 17 Graham Square," continued
Mrs. Fanning. "And it's because I want my dear and godly son to get a
wife who will be on the pattern of Solomon's virtuous woman that I
have given up my home and broken up my establishment and come here.
Now, Miss Wickham, my dear young lady, did you or did you not hear the
noise of my boxes being brought upstairs?"
"I certainly did," I replied.
"Then you happen to occupy the bedroom next to mine?"
"I do," I said.
"That is very nice indeed, for often of an evening we will keep each
other company and discourse on Albert, to the joy of both our hearts.
The boxes are receptacles for my household gods, dear, those dear
mementoes of the past, that I could not quite part with. Don't suppose
for a moment that they are full of dresses, for although my taste is
light and festive, Albert likes gay colours, he says they remind him
of the sales of remnants in the autumn. Dear fellow, it was the most
poetical thing he ever uttered, but he has said it once or twice. I
can show you my household treasures when you feel disposed to have an
evening's real recreation. The burden of this house, and with so
delicate a mother as your good Ma, must be heavy upon a young lass
like you, but Albert tells me--but there! I won't say any more just
now, for you'll blush, and I don't want you to blush, and I don't want
to encourage those hopes that may never be realised. I may as well
whisper, though, that Albert is looking out for a wife who will be a
pattern of Solomon's virtuous woman, and when he finds her, why she'll
be lucky, that's all I can say."
Just then the pretty silver gong sounded, and people began to stand up
preparatory to going down to dinner. It was difficult even then to
move Mrs. Fanning, and for a wild moment I had a fear that I might be
imprisoned behind her in the drawing-room all during dinner, while she
still discoursed upon Albert and his attractions. Miss Mullins,
however, came to the rescue.
"Come, Miss Wickham," she cried, "we must lead the way," and
accordingly Jane, my mother, and I went down first, and the different
boarders followed us.
To my infinite distress Mrs. Fanning, being a complete stranger, had
her seat next mine. I had one comfort, however, she was better than
Albert; and Albert, who arrived presently himself, found that he was
seated next Miss Armstrong. He nodded across at his mother.
"How do, old lady," he said, "glad to find you cosily established;
everything all right, eh?"
"Yes, Albert, my son," replied the good woman, "everything is all
right, and I have been having a long conversation about you with my
interesting young friend here, Miss Westenra Wickham. By-the-by, dear,
would you kindly tell me how you got that outlandish name, I never
heard it before, and I do not believe it belongs to the Christian
religion."
"I did not know there was anything heathenish about it," I could not
help answering; "it happens to be my name, and I was fully baptized by
it."
"I will see presently whether I can take to it," responded the old
lady. "Soup? Yes, please. I will trouble you, my good girl, for
(turning to the maid) a table-spoon; I never take soup with a dessert
spoon. Thanks; that's better."
Mrs. Fanning now gave me a few moments peace, and I found, to my great
satisfaction, that she had an excellent appetite, and was also
extremely critical with regard to her food. I introduced her to her
next door neighbour, who happened to be a fat little woman, something
like herself in build. They were both gourmands, and criticised
adversely the meal to their mutual pleasure. Thus I had time to look
around me, and to consider this new aspect of affairs. Things were
scarcely likely to be more comfortable if Albert had now got his
mother to plead his cause with me. He glanced at me several times
during the meal, and once even favoured me with a broad wink--he was
really intolerable.
Meanwhile Miss Armstrong was all blushes and smirks. I heard her
suggest to Mr. Fanning that she should go the next day to see him, and
bring some of her drawings with her, and I heard him tell her in what
he was pleased to call his brutal manner that he would not be at home,
and if he were and she came would certainly not see her. This seemed
to be considered a tremendous joke by Miss Armstrong, and her mother
also joined in it, and gave Mr. Fanning a dig in the ribs, and told
him that he was the soul of wit, and had the true spirit of heart.
Meanwhile, Mr. Randolph, my mother, Captain and Mrs. Furlong, and the
more refined portion of the establishment enjoyed themselves at the
other end of the table. I saw Mr. Randolph glance down in my direction
once or twice, and I am sure, although he was not able to judge of the
difference, the fact of seeing me once more in my properly made black
evening dress relieved his mind, for he looked quite contented, and
turned in a cheerful manner to my mother, and when dinner was over,
and we returned to the drawing-room, I was lucky enough to be able to
escape Mrs. Fanning and to go up to the other end of the room, where I
seated myself close to mother, took hold of her hand, leant against
her chair, and indulged in the luxury of talking to Mr. Randolph. He
was in a very good humour, and suggested that we should make a party
on the following evening to another play, which was then very much in
vogue.
"But not in the chocolate-coloured brougham with the pair of horses,"
I said.
"We will have a cab from the nearest stand, if you prefer it," was his
instant response.
"I should much," I answered.
"And we will not dine at the Cecil," he continued; "we can have a sort
of high tea here before we start."
"That I should also like infinitely better," I answered.
"It shall be as you please," was his response. Then he began to tell
us something of the play which we were about to see, and I forgot all
about my discomforts, and enjoyed myself well.
I was putting things in order in the drawing-room that night, for this
was always one of my special duties, when Mr. Fanning, who had left
the room a long time ago, came back. He came up to me holding his
lighted candle in his hand. I started when I saw him.
"Good night," I said coldly.
"Pray don't go for a moment," he said. "I have come back here on the
express chance of seeing you."
"I cannot wait now, Mr. Fanning," I replied.
"But I really must have an interview with you, it is of the highest
importance,--when can I see you alone? When can you give me an hour of
your time quite undisturbed?"
"Never," I answered brusquely.
"Now you will forgive me for saying that that is pure nonsense. If you
will not promise me an hour of your own free will I shall take the
present opportunity of speaking to you."
"But I shall not stay," I answered with spirit, "and you cannot keep
me here against my will. Mr. Fanning, I also will take the present
opportunity of telling you that you and I have nothing in common, that
I dislike your singling me out for special conversations of any kind,
and that I hope in the future you will clearly understand that I do
not wish you to do so."
"Oh, that is all very fine," he said, "but come now; what have I done
to make myself obnoxious? There is the old lady upstairs, she has
taken no end of a fancy to you, she says you are the most charming and
the prettiest girl she has ever seen, and what have you to say against
my mother? Let me tell you that she has come to this house on purpose
to make your acquaintance."
"I have nothing whatever to say against your mother, Mr. Fanning, but
I object to the subject of conversation which she chooses to occupy
her time with while talking to me. I am not in the least interested in
you, and I wish you and your mother clearly to understand this fact as
quickly as possible."
I do not think it was in the nature of Mr. Fanning ever to look
crestfallen, or my present speech might have made him do so. He did
not even change colour, but he looked at me out of those eyes which
his mother had so vividly described, and after a moment said softly--
"There will come a day when you will regret this. An honest heart is
offered to you and you trample it in the dust, but there will come a
day when you will be sorry. How do you think this establishment is
working?"
I was so astonished and relieved at his change of conversation that I
said--
"It seems to be going very well, don't you think so?"
"It is going well for my purpose," he replied, and then he added, "it
is working itself out in a way that will only spell one word--RUIN.
Now you ponder on that. Take it as your night-cap, and see what sort
of sleep you'll have, and when next I ask for a few moments'
conversation perhaps you'll not say no. I will not keep you any longer
for the present."
He left the room, I heard his footsteps dying down the corridor, and
the next instant he had slammed his bedroom door.