ALL the same, Miss Cass was by no means ready to welcome the end of the
journey even when it came. The first rather abrupt intimation that her
destination had been reached was a brief stopping at the lodge gates
of Clavering Park, followed a few minutes later by a flare of lights
from a large, wide-fronted house. Then came the epic moment of the
tall footman opening the omnibus door, the descent of her traveling
companions and the obvious need for her own.
Immense courage was called for to quit that comfortable corner, but
with an effort which in the circumstances seemed superhuman Girlie
took the plunge. After being gracefully assisted from the omnibus by
Sir Toby she moved without apparent impulse or volition of her own
into a wide zone of light. The next thing she realized was that she
had arrived in a large, bright inner hall that was terrifyingly full
of people. For the most part these were seated on chairs and sofas in
groups of two and three, consuming afternoon tea and talking at what
seemed to be the top of very loud voices.
A large, fair-haired woman of forty or so, with the look of a rather
overblown yellow chrysanthemum, suddenly detached herself from the
center of the throng, literally sprang at Miss Cass and welcomed her
with the greatest effusion.
“So nice of you to come! Such a pleasure to see you! So good of you to
come all the way down here!”
Girlie realized that she was in the grip of the voluble and
demonstrative mistress of Clavering Park.
“You have made friends with Sir Toby already, of course?”
The little man answered brightly that they had made friends already.
Other brief and swift introductions followed, but Miss Cass made no
effort to catch the names and she shyly avoided the eyes of these
favored ones. And then said the hostess with delightful urgency, “Do
let me give you some tea.”
Almost as if by magic a passage was found to a table in the middle of
the hall. As the important guest moved forward with the hostess the
conversation abruptly stopped. Girlie felt that every eye was upon her
fur coat, yet somehow the sensation was not unpleasant. There were more
brief introductions en route. And then at last she was safely anchored
in a very seductive low chair and the conversation had begun again with
a redoubled violence.
“So sporting of you to come and help us!”
Girlie was soon aware that there was no immediate need for her to say
anything; the hostess and those around her were abundantly equipped
with small talk.
“This tea is quite fresh. Milk and sugar?”
Girlie’s tongue declined to act, but somehow she was able to muster a
hoarse whisper which the hostess interpreted as “Yes, please.”
Tea gave Girlie a little courage. A spasmodic warmth began to flicker
in her gray eyes.
“Do have some more.” The voice was kindness itself. “And then if you
would like to rest a little after your long and tiresome journey you
shall go up to your room.”
Nothing could have been nicer, easier or more amiable. For all her
excitement, which seemed to be breaking in burning waves round her head
and ears, Girlie was able to do ample justice to her tea and cake; she
even continued to listen with a kind of gratitude to the prattle of the
yellow chrysanthemum lady, who was obviously a very good sort.
“We feel quite honored, you know, at having you here. Sir Toby says
you are to be advertised as our principal star on the play bills. So
awfully clever of you to act in the way you do. I am sure you will be a
great draw. And such a good cause. Do have some more tea, won’t you?”
The curiously shy and timid Lady Elfreda was not averse from even a
third cup of tea.
“One hears that you are simply wonderful as Lady Henrietta in the
Duke of Killiecrankie. The _Society Pictorial_ says you have genius,
although”--Girlie suddenly felt the eyes of the hostess fixed intently
upon her--“you don’t look much like your photograph. Do have another
piece of tea-cake.”
Girlie had never heard prattle sound quite so agreeable. She began to
take very kindly to her surroundings. At the back of her mind, it was
true, the sense of the unreal was almost grisly. But the immediate
present in which she was living was strangely like a dream, although
touched with sinister edges that might develop into a nightmare at any
moment. Still, a low cushioned chair, three cups of tea and the eager,
the almost too eager kindness of the hostess were for the time being an
anodyne for the fear that hovered like doom in the background.
“Dinner is not until a quarter past eight, so that if you would like a
little rest you shall go to your room.” The yellow chrysanthemum lady
glanced half-maternally at the small peaked face. “If you like, I will
show you the way.”
Girlie was most comfortable as she was, but instinct told her that
it would be wise to end the present phase of the dream, which was so
seductive, and prepare to envisage some of the stern realities that
were undoubtedly lurking near at hand.
“I think I will please--if you don’t mind.” Those were the first
words Girlie found the courage to speak in her capacity of a marquis’
daughter. For an instant the sound of her own voice, pitched rather
higher than was quite natural, seemed to leave her half paralyzed with
her own audacity.
Happily the hostess, whose name she didn’t know, was very much a
get-things-done sort of lady. “Very well, you shall.” She rose from
her chair with genial authority. “You will be all the better for an
hour’s rest after such a trying journey.”
Girlie got up, too. A considerable effort was needed, but she was able
to make it. The mistress of the house piloted the distinguished guest
past tables and chairs, through the press of people, of whose glances
of covert curiosity she was keenly aware, as far as the staircase
paneled in black oak at the end of the hall. They went up together side
by side, but Girlie was terribly conscious now at every step she took
that she was moving out of fairyland into a country of extreme peril
whose nature she simply dare not define.
“I hope you will like your room.” The delightfully kind yellow
chrysanthemum lady prattled on all the way up the stairs. “South
aspect, overlooking the park. We call it the chamber of honor. King
Edward used to sleep in it when he came down here for the races,
although, of course, _we_ hadn’t the place then.”
“Oh, I am sure I shall like it,” Girlie managed to say, but again in
that odd high-pitched voice which sounded so strange to her own ears.
They turned into a corridor carpeted in blue velvet and the hostess
opened a door at the end of it. She led the way into the most
spaciously beautiful bedroom Girlie had ever seen. Its size seemed to
her quite extraordinary. It was hung in deep crimson and its furniture
was Louis Seize. A bright wood fire was crackling on the wide hearth.
But, perhaps, what most immediately impressed Miss Cass was the fact
that Pikey was busily unpacking the boxes of her mistress, several of
whose dresses had already been laid out on the bed.
“Here you are, Lady Elfreda.” The voice of the yellow chrysanthemum
lady sounded disconcertingly loud as they entered the room. “I do hope
you will be comfortable. Your bathroom is through that door. I see your
maid is unpacking your things.” And then to the kneeling and assiduous
Pikey, “Have you all that you want?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Pikey, looking up for one brief instant only.
“If there is anything else you’d like you _will_ ask for it, won’t
you?” The hostess bestowed a final benediction on the most important of
her guests. “You will be able to have a nice rest before dinner. Not
until a quarter past eight ... I think I told you.” With a last gush of
kindliness the yellow chrysanthemum lady departed, leaving Girlie Cass
to deal with a reality that was rapidly growing stupendous.
For two minutes at least after the hostess had gone silence reigned in
the room. Pikey continued her unpacking, still wholly absorbed by her
task, while Girlie began to make frantic efforts to emerge completely
from her dream and grapple with a situation that had suddenly grown
altogether beyond her.
There was the authority of the mistress of Clavering Park that she was
Lady Elfreda Catkin, that the bedroom of the late King Edward had been
placed at her disposal, and that before her eyes her own maid was
unpacking her boxes. So far, so good. Everything was for the best in
the best of all possible worlds, no doubt ... but!...!