There was honest satisfaction in the town when it was known that the
Mayor had consented to remain another year in office. Most people
agreed that it was a good thing for Blackhampton. But the Mayoress took
to her bed.
Could she have had her way she would never have got up again. For
many years now life had been a nightmare of ever-growing duties,
of ever-increasing responsibilities. Her conservative temperament
resisted change. She had not wanted to leave the Duke of Wellington
for the comparative luxury of Waterloo Villa, she had not wanted to
leave Waterloo Villa for the defiant grandeur of Strathfieldsaye. When
she was faced with a whole year as Mayoress she fully expected to
die of it, and perhaps she would have died of it but for the oblique
influence of Gertrude Preston; but now she was threatened with a
further twelve months of the same embarrassing public grandeur she was
compelled to review her attitude towards an early demise.
Maria knew that if she allowed her light to be put out Gerty had the
makings of a highly qualified successor. No one was better at shaking
hands with a grandee, no one had a happier knack of saying the right
word at the right time; and neither the Mayor nor the Mayoress,
particularly the latter, knew what they would have done without her.
Gerty, in fact, had become a kind of unofficial standard bearer and
henchwoman of a great man. Every piece of gossip she heard about him
was faithfully reported, every paragraph that appeared in the paper
was brought to his notice, she flattered him continually and made him
out to be no end of a fellow; and in consequence poor Maria was bitten
with such a furious jealousy that she would like to have killed her
designing but indispensable step-sister.
When Maria took to her bed, the Mayor promptly requested the
accomplished Gertrude to do what she could in the matter.
"Josiah, she must show Spirit." As always that was her specific for
the hapless Maria, and at the request of his worship she went at once
to the big bedroom, from whose large bay windows a truly noble view of
the whole city and the open country beyond was to be obtained, and as
Josiah himself expressed it, "proceeded to read the riot act to the
Mayoress."
The Mayoress was in bed, therefore she had to take it lying down. For
that matter it was her nature to take all things lying down. But in
her heart she had never so deeply resented the obtrusion of Gerty as
at this moment. She wanted never to get up any more, but if she didn't
get up any more this meddlesome and dangerous rival would do as she
liked with Josiah, and in all human probability as soon as the lawful
Mayoress was decently and comfortably in her grave she would marry him.
It was really Gerty who kept the Mayoress going; not by the crude
method of personal admonition, however forcible its use, but by the
subtle spur that one mind may exert upon another. Maria had to choose
between showing spirit and allowing the odious Gerty to wear the
dubious mantle of her grandeur.
Hard was the choice, but Mother Eve prevailed in the weak flesh of the
lawful Mayoress. She made a silent vow that Gerty should not marry
Josiah if she could possibly help it. Yes, she would show spirit. Cruel
as the alternative was, she would be Mayoress a second year. Even if
she died of it, and in her present frame of mind she rather hoped she
would, she alone should sit in the chair of honor at the Annual Meeting
of the British Women's Tribute to the Memory of Queen Boadicea, she
alone should take precedence of the local duchess and the county ladies
at the annual bazaar in aid of the Society for Providing Black and
White Dogs with Brown Biscuits.
Maria, however, in her present low state, consented to Gerty deputizing
for her at the review of the Girl Scouts in the Arboretum. She was
reluctant to make even that minor concession--it was the thin end of
the wedge!--but it had been intimated to Josiah that the Mayoress was
always expected to say a few words on this spirited occasion. This was
altogether too much for Maria in the present condition of her health.
Before the Girl Scouts, Gerty bore herself in a manner that even
Miss Heber-Knollys, the august principal of the High School for
Young Ladies, who was present, a perfect dragon of silent criticism,
could hardly have improved upon. The Mayor at any rate was delighted
with his sister-in-law's performance, drove her back in triumph to
Strathfieldsaye and insisted on her staying to dinner.
The hapless Maria, after nearly three weeks of the peace and sanctity
of her chamber, had struggled down to tea for the first time. She sat
forlornly in the drawing-room, a white woolen shawl over her ample
shoulders. It had been a real relief to allow Gerty to deputize for
her, but now that the hour of trial was past Maria was inclined to
despise, for the moment at any rate, the human weakness that had played
into the hands of a highly dangerous schemer. It would have been so
easy to have done it oneself, after all; it was such a simple thing,
now that it was safely over!
Gerty consumed a pickelet and drank two cups of tea with an air of
rectitude, while Josiah recited the story of the afternoon for the
delectation of Maria. He was so well satisfied with the performance
of the deputy that the lawful Mayoress began to scent danger. "Gert
says," the Mayor informed her, "that if you don't feel up to it she'll
distribute the prizes on the Fifth, at the Floral Hall."
The Mayoress drew in her lips, a sign that she was thinking. She
_might_ be able to manage the Fifth, as "a few words" were not
expected, although, of course, they were always welcome.
Josiah, however, was not inclined to press the matter. Maria seemed
rather worried by her duties as Mayoress and Gerty having had greater
experience in that kind of thing and having already done extremely
well in the Arboretum, it now occurred to the Mayor that it might be
possible to arrange with the Town Clerk for her to take over the duties
permanently in his second year of office. "I don't say the Council will
consent," said Josiah. "It may be a bit irregular. But they know you're
not strong, Mother. I was careful to tell them that when I consented to
keep the job on. So the way is paved for you, as you might say, if you
really don't feel up to it. Anyhow, I'll hear what Aylett has to say
about it. No man in England, they tell me, is a safer guide in matters
of municipal practice. If Aylett thinks it will be all right, I'm sure
Gerty won't mind acting as Mayoress."
"Delighted, Josiah!" Gerty's bow and smile were positively regal; they
were modeled, in point of fact, upon those of Princess Mawdwin of
Connemara, the most celebrated bazaar-opener of the period.
The Mayoress drew in her lips still further. She began to think very
seriously. No human Mayoress could have been in lower spirits or have
felt less equal to her duties than did Maria at that moment, but if
Gerty was allowed to usurp the honors and the dignities so indubitably
hers it would be very hard to bear. The whole thing was so like Gerty.
Always a schemer; in spite of her soft manners and her pussy-cat ways,
always at heart a grabber. The Mayoress felt that if the weak state
of her health called for a deputy, and really it seemed to do so,
she would have preferred the Queen of Sheba herself to the designing
Gertrude. For years she had been able to twist Josiah round her little
finger. So like a man to be taken in by her! So like a man not to be
able to see what a Fox of a woman she really was.
Unfortunately Maria had reason to fear that she was very ill, indeed.
She was afraid of her heart. It is true that three times within the
past fortnight Horace, Doctor Cockburn, had solemnly assured his
mother-in-law that there was nothing the matter with it. But thinking
the matter over, as day after day she lay in her miserable bed, she
had come to the conclusion that Horace was a modern doctor and that a
modern doctor could hardly be expected to understand that old-fashioned
organ, the heart.
She had made up her mind, therefore, to have a second opinion. She
would go to a heart specialist, a man who really knew about hearts.
As a fact she had already made up her mind to have the opinion of Dr.
Tremlett who humored her, who understood her system and its ways.
Horace, who was so modern, rather smiled at Dr. Tremlett--he was
careful not to go beyond a smile at Doctor Tremlett, although his
demeanor almost suggested that he might have done so had not etiquette
intervened.
The Mayoress, therefore, was now placed in a difficult position by
the success of a base intriguer. She didn't know what to do. Three
days ago her mind had been made up that she would put herself in the
hands of Doctor Tremlett, but if she did that she was quite sure that
Doctor Tremlett, a physician of the old school who knew how important
the heart was in every human anatomy and therefore treated it with the
utmost respect, would not allow her to go overdoing it. Her time would
be divided between her bed and the drawing-room sofa; he would most
probably insist on a trained nurse--Doctor Tremlett really respected
the heart--and the trained nurse would mean, of course, that the
Mayoress had abdicated and that the way was open for the treacherous
Gertrude with her pussy-cat ways to take over the duties permanently.
It was a dilemma. And it was made needlessly painful for the Mayoress
by the blindness and folly of the Mayor; in some ways so very able, in
others he was such a shortsighted man! Really, he ought to have seen
what Gerty was up to. So like a man to be completely taken in by her.
One of her own sex would have seen at a glance that Gertrude was a Deep
one.
It was a most difficult moment for the Mayoress. Either she must be
false to Doctor Tremlett and give up her heart or she would have to
submit tamely to the rape of her grandeur and have it flaunted in her
face by a Designing creature. Heaven knew that she had no taste herself
for grandeur, but Gerty had a very decided taste for it and there was
the rub!
"Have a piece of this excellent pickelet, Josiah!" That smile and that
manner were very winning to some eyes no doubt, but those of Maria were
not of the number. That coat and skirt, how well they hung upon her!
Gerty had always had a slim figure. Some people thought her figure
very genteel, but again Maria was not of the number. Some people also
thought her voice was very ladylike--Josiah did for one. La-di-da
the Mayoress called it. Simpering creature! Even if the pickelet was
excellent it didn't need her to say so. What had she to do with the
pickelet? And there was Josiah submitting to her like a lamb and talking
to her about the Town Clerk and the City Council and wondering whether
she would mind giving him a hand on the Fifth at the Floral Hall.
"I'll be delighted, Josiah--simply delighted. Anything to help. If I
can be the slightest use to you--and to Maria."
That precious, "And to Maria," brought a curl to the lip of the lawful
Mayoress. Designing hussy! So like a man not to see through her. Maria
felt herself slowly turning green. The heart has been known to take
people that way.
"Gert is staying to dinner, Mother. Hope Billing sent up that salmon."
Billing had sent up the salmon, the Mayor was meekly informed by the
Mayoress.
"Chose it myself. Looked a good fish."
"It is wonderful to me, Josiah"--affected mouncing minx!--"how you
manage to get through your day. You seem to have time for everything.
Why, your work as mayor alone would keep most people fully occupied.
Yet you always seem able to attend personally to this and that and the
other."
"Oh, I don't know, Gert." Some of the great man's critics were inclined
to think that since he had made so good in his high office his amazing
self-confidence had abated a feather or two. "I've always tried to
be what I call a prattical man. If you want a thing done right do it
yourself--that's my motto."
"But you get through so much, Josiah."
"Just a habit. But there's a very busy year ahead. Being Mayor o' this
city is not child's play in times like these. We're up against the food
shortage now. Last year it was munitions. Next year it'll be coal. And
the Army's always crying out for men. And any labor that isn't in khaki
is that durned independent and very inefficient into the bargain. The
papers are always writing up what they call democracy. Well, you can
have all my share of democracy. Between you and me, Gert, it's mainly a
name for a lot of jumped-up ignoramuses who have no idea of how little
they do know. Yesterday I was over at Cleveley arranging with the Duke
about a certain matter. Now he's prattical fellow, is that. He said,
'Mr. Munt, to be candid, I don't know anything about the subject, but
I'm very willing to learn.' I tell you, Gert, you'd have to wait till
the cows come home to hear one of our jumped-up Jacks-in-Office talking
that way. There's nothing they don't know and they're not afraid to say
so. Why, it even takes _me_ all my time to tell them anything."