BUSINESS AT A BALL.
When people are engaged, they usually contrive to meet with frequency,
and so Amy Rivers showed no very great surprise at seeing Fairfax again
later in the evening. She only said: “Why, I didn’t know you knew the
Latchfords.” To which Hamilton Fairfax replied that he did not know them,
but had met another man at the club who was coming to the party, and that
the other man had brought him.
“An extra male never matters at a big dance,” said Fairfax. “Besides,” he
went on, “I wanted particularly to see you this evening. Since we parted
last, I’ve heard of an estate for sale in Kent which I fancy would just
suit us. The present holder wants money, and therefore it’s going cheap;
but there’s another fellow after it, and I’ve only got the refusal till
to-morrow morning. So you see I want your views on the subject at once.”
“Very well,” said Miss Rivers; “you shall tell me about it in, say,
three dances from now. There are no programs here to-night; but I have
promised the next two waltzes and the square, and don’t particularly
want to cut them. In the mean time, I wish you would go and talk to Mrs.
Shelf. She said when we were driving here that she wanted to speak to
you. I don’t know about what, but she’ll tell you that herself.”
“Right!” said Fairfax. “Ta-ta for the present!” And he went through the
rooms till he saw the blaze of diamonds and rubies which decked the
handsome person of Mrs. Theodore Shelf.
Mrs. Shelf had, as usual, a concourse of men round her. She was a woman
who deliberately cultivated the art of fascination, because it was
essential to her ambition; and men are always willing to be dazzled and
fascinated. They were laughing when Fairfax came up. She saw him from the
corner of her eyes, but for the moment took no notice of him. She leaned
forward and delivered another sentence to the men before her through
the top feathers of her fan, which sent through them another thrill of
merriment; and then shut the fan with a click and turned to Fairfax.
The other men went away, still laughing, which was quite typical of Mrs.
Shelf’s powers. She always concluded her audiences dramatically. No
actress on the stage had more knowledge of how to bring about an artistic
“curtain.”
She watched them go with a smile of mild triumph, but when she turned to
Fairfax this had flitted away. There was distinct annoyance on her face.
“Why don’t you know these people here?” she asked.
“Well, I suppose I may say that technically I do know Lady Latchford now.
The chap who brought me introduced me to her. But of course she’ll have
forgotten me by this time.”
“Then why didn’t you stop and talk to her—amuse her—or, better still,
be impertinent to her? You ought to have known the Latchfords before.
Indeed, I thought you did; but to slip in like that, without a noise, was
worse than a mistake—it was a crime. Don’t you know that the Latchfords
are useful? Really, Hamilton, you make me angry. You never make the
slightest effort to get on, and know people who will be useful to you,
and all that.”
Fairfax felt half amused, half annoyed. He shrugged his shoulders.
“I don’t know what Amy will do with you when she marries,” Mrs. Shelf
went on. “You’ve no dash about you, no smartness. If you are left to
yourself, you may make money, but you will never make a name.”
“I’m not a man,” said Fairfax, with a half-angry laugh, “who would ever
walk about in spurs and blow a trumpet.”
“No,” replied Mrs. Shelf; “you would, if you had your own way, work ten
hours a day in the City, and then come home and sleep. Once a month you
would give a dinner party to City friends, and talk shop the entire
evening. In the end you would die, and have written on your gravestone,
‘This was a dull, honest man, who made a million of money and no
enemies.’ Now I,” said Mrs. Shelf, “should feel lonely beyond belief if
I didn’t know that there were people who hated and feared me. It gives
one the sense of power, and that means confidence; and a woman with
confidence gets on. It is only your harmless fool who is popular all
round, and a person whom everybody in their innermost hearts despise,
whatever they may say of him aloud. You must shake this mood off,
Hamilton. Begin now. Go up to the Latchford woman, and be impertinent
to her. Say the floor’s so bad you can’t dance on it, or the supper’s
poisoned you, or that there’s a woman here who picks pockets. Put it
nicely, you know, and make it cut, and then she’ll ask you to her next
function, because she’ll think you too dangerous to make an enemy of.”
“I don’t feel equal to the job,” said Fairfax. “It would probably end in
my being kicked there and then out of doors if I attempted such a thing.”
“Nonsense,” said Mrs. Shelf. “Polite impertinence is the best possible
_cachet_ nowadays. And you must cut out some style for yourself. Go and
begin now.”
She dismissed him with a tap of her fan, and beckoned another man up.
Fairfax went off willingly enough, but he did not go and impress himself
upon his hostess’s memory by the crude process of baiting her. Instead,
he hung about the rooms and idled away his time till Amy Rivers was ready
for him, and then, slipping her arm through his, led her to a niche on a
secluded staircase.
“Now,” she said, “tell me all about this place in Kent.”
He told her soberly and quietly all the details, and waxed dry over
leases and repairs of outbuildings.
“It sounds lovely,” she said when he had finished; “but you don’t seem
very enthusiastic over it yourself.”
“That’s not my way, dear. Mrs. Shelf has been telling me what a very dull
young man I am, and suggested that I should commence improving matters by
going up and insulting my hostess. I’m afraid I haven’t done it. To begin
with, I couldn’t; and to go on with, she’d squash me out of existence
with a look, if I made the attempt. You see, Amy, I know my limitations;
I’m a tolerably heavy person, with limited powers of speech, and a
subdued sense of humor.”
“You might be brighter, that’s a fact,” Miss Rivers admitted candidly.
“If you are tired of me, dear——”
Miss Rivers craned her neck down the line of the banisters, to make sure
that no one was looking, and then drew Fairfax to her, and gave him a
kiss.
“Don’t be a great goose!” she said. “Only don’t think that I am going to
agree with you in everything. That would be far too dull and copy-booky.
And don’t think I imagine you perfect. I should hate you most cordially
if you were.”
“What are my faults?”
“Do you think I could tell you the whole list in a single evening? No,
sir. Some day, when I am more than usually annoyed with you, I will begin
early and read out a chapter of them. Till then, I’ll bear with the lot.
Tell me some more about this place in Kent.”
“I have told you all I know. If you like the idea, we might run down
to-morrow and see it ourselves, before we finally decide on the purchase.
The only thing is about the price. You know I’m a tolerably well-off man,
dear, but there are limits to my capital, and most of it is well locked
up. Of course this place has to be paid for in cash, which is the reason
for its going so cheap.”
“Well?”
“Well, I am afraid that alone it would not be wise for me to purchase it.
But then one cannot get over the fact that you are an heiress—excuse my
being unromantic and practical—and we are presumably not going to live on
my income only. And so, if the house and its grounds should suit us, I
was wondering whether you would feel disposed——”
“Oh, my dear child, how you do beat about the bush! Of course I’ll help
buy the place if we like it. Why shouldn’t I? There’s heaps of money, and
there’s no earthly reason why we shouldn’t use it.”
“But will the trustees let you have it?”
“I’m not of age for another year, but the trustees have discretionary
power. At least, Mr. Shelf has, and he never thwarts me in anything.
I believe he’d do anything for me. He is really the kindest man. If
you like, Hamilton, I’ll see him about it before he goes out to-morrow
morning.”
“I think that will be best, dear. You see, in the present state of the
offer, one has to rush things.”
“How much am I to ask him for?”
“Fifteen thousand pounds would do. I can manage the rest.”
“Oh, he’ll let me have that without any trouble at all. I’m sure of it.
And if the other trustee was awkward, he’d advance it to me for the year
out of his own pocket. Listen, there’s the music going again. Aren’t you
going to dance with me to-night, Hamilton?”
“Ye-es, a waltz, or anything like that. But they’re playing that
abominable barn-dance. I think it’s idiotic. Makes such a show of one’s
self. Let’s sit it out here.”
“Not I. I love the barn-dance. I do it well, and I dress for it.
Consequently, my dear boy, I’m not going to miss it. You needn’t kick up
_your_ heels unless you like, but I warn you I’m going to disport myself.
Come along, and take me down-stairs. There now! you’ve ruffled my hair
again.”
“Come along, then,” said Fairfax. “You can knock over my worst
prejudices. I’ll dance two barn-dances with you if I get the
opportunity.”