BEFORE DINNER
The Lieutenant and Miss Fitzgerald were in the billiard-room, and the
former was putting in the half-hour which must elapse before dinner by
teaching the latter the science of bank-shots.
"I say," queried her instructor, in one of the pauses of the game, "do
you know that little diplomatic affair of yours has turned up again? I
saw it driving in from the station, half an hour ago.
"Jimsy Stanley, I suppose you mean?"
"The same,--and look here, you won't turn crusty, if I ask you a
point-blank question?"
"No, Dottie."
"Don't call me that, you know I hate it."
"Isn't it your naval sobriquet?"
"Never mind if it is."
"But I do mind, and I shall call you what I please, for it suits you
perfectly. Well, then, Dottie, I don't mind your asking me anything, if
it's for a purpose, and not for idle curiosity."
"Oh, it's for a purpose fast enough."
"Go ahead, then. I'll try and bank that ball into the side-pocket, while
you are thinking it out."
"It doesn't need thinking out. It's just this: Do you mean business with
Little Diplomacy?"
"What affair is that of yours?" she asked, pausing in the act of
chalking her cue.
"None, thank goodness; but I'd like to do a pal a good turn, and so----"
"Well?"
"If you'll accept a bit of advice."
"Out with it."
"Don't lose any time, if you do mean business. He's being warned against
you."
"Aren't you clever enough to know the result of that?"
"Yes, if the advice comes from a woman--but supposing it's from a man?"
"Who?"
"Kent-Lauriston."
Miss Fitzgerald so far forgot herself as to whistle.
"How do you know?"
"Gainsborough told me. He said he overheard an awful long confab between
them at the St. James, two days ago, and Diplomacy said he'd write a
letter to our hostess, sending his regrets."
"No such letter has been received."
"Probably he changed his mind,--but----"
"Then he'll make a clean breast of it to me, but I'm much obliged just
the same, and I won't forget it."
"I'll see he owns up to it."
"You won't do anything of the sort, you'll bungle it, and there's an end
of things."
"Have I generally bungled your affairs with Little Diplomacy?"
"No. You were a trump about that launch party. Now I mustn't keep you
from her Ladyship--run along, and remember if I can be of any help--just
call on me."
"You can be--and I want you to----"
She broke in with a merry laugh.
"I knew it."
"Why?"
"Because Lieutenant Kingsland doesn't generally put himself out to
oblige his friends, unless he expects them to make return with
interest."
The gentleman in question looked sheepish and shrugged his shoulders.
"Come now," she continued briskly. "Let me hear it, and don't go
blundering about for an explanation; the facts are sufficient. I've been
alone with you long enough. I don't wish to set myself up as a rival to
Lady Isabelle."
"It's about her I want your help."
"Of course, I know that. Go on."
"You don't ask if I mean business."
"I don't need to. I know the amount in consols which she received from
her grandmother."
"Don't be so damned mercenary!"
"Why not say a thing as well as mean it? Let's be honest for once in a
way. Besides, you're not to swear at me, Lieutenant Kingsland--please
remember I'm not married to you."
"No. By Gad! I wish you were."
"Oh, no, you don't. I haven't silver enough to cross the palm of my
hand. But to come to business. Doesn't your affair progress swimmingly?"
"Why, it has so far--as long as the Dowager fancied there was danger
from Little Diplomacy's quarter, I was used as a foil. Now that she
learned about your claims she breathes again, and gives me the cold
shoulder in consequence."
"I suppose you haven't been wasting your time?"
"Rather not."
"It's all right then?"
"Yes, I think so; but the old lady'll never allow it."
"Marry without consulting her."
"That's what I mean to do."
"Where?"
"Why, here. Haven't we got the parson and the church attached? What
could be more convenient?"
"Nothing, if the Marchioness doesn't suspect?"
"But I'm afraid that she does."
"What--not that----"
"Only that my intentions are serious."
"Transfer them to me then--temporarily."
"Won't do. Devotion to Lady Isabelle is the tack. Why won't you lend me
your little affair?"
"What, Jimsy?"
"Yes. I fancy the old lady has a mistaken idea that he's
poverty-stricken. Of course, I know that can't be the case if you----"
"Do not finish that sentence, Lieutenant Kingsland; I'm quite willing to
oblige you--by mentioning to the Dowager the amount of Mr. Stanley's
income--if I know it."
"She'll accept your word for it, even if you don't, and once her
attention is turned to him, I'll have a clear field."
"Is that the help you wanted?"
"No, I want you to square the parson."
"Oh, I see; that's a more difficult matter. When do you wish to command
his services?"
"If I need 'em at all it'll be in about three days. To-day's
Thursday--say Sunday."
"I'll do what I can."
"You're a brick. Oh, by the way, I spoke to Darcy about that letter you
gave me at the Hyde Park Club."
"And he told you to keep a still tongue in your head and leave it to
me."
"How did you know that?"
"It's good advice," she continued, ignoring his question, "and I'll give
you some more. If I make any suggestion after dinner, advocate it
warmly--put it through."
"You mean to get that letter to-night?"
"I must get it to-night."
"But suppose he's left it in London?"
"Then I must find it out this evening, and take steps to procure it
there."
"You wouldn't have his rooms searched?"
"I must have that letter--that's all," she replied. "You don't know what
it means to me?"
"I don't know anything about it. But why not ask him for it?"
"Tell him it was mine, and that I sent it to Darcy," she exclaimed,
incredulously.
"I say," he ventured to expostulate--"you know I am no milksop--but
don't you think that you and the Colonel are getting a trifle thick?
He's a married man, you know, and----"
She flushed angrily, and then controlling herself, said quietly:
"Oblige me by going to the drawing-room at once, Lieutenant Kingsland.
We've been here too long already."
He bit his lip, looked at her, laughed shamefacedly, and thrusting his
hands into his trousers' pockets, went out.
Having given him time to make his escape, she slowly followed his
footsteps.
* * * * *
Stanley dreaded meeting his friends, as a man does who stands convicted
of having done something foolish, and while he was wondering whom he had
better encounter first, Lady Isabelle settled the question for him by
meeting him in the great hall.
"This is indeed unexpected," she said. "After what you told me at Lady
Rainsford's tea, it's naturally the last place where I should have
thought of seeing you."
"I don't suppose our hostess considered it necessary to mention that I
was coming, after all."
"I believe that she did say something at luncheon about receiving a
telegram from you; but as you had assured me that you were not to be
here, and as I was much engaged----"
"In literary pursuits with Lieutenant Kingsland," he said, finishing her
sentence for her, at which termination her Ladyship flushed, and the
Secretary felt that in the first round at least he had given as good as
he had received.
"But I want you to understand the reason of my coming," he said, leading
her to a seat in a little alcove. "I feel that I owe you some
explanation."
"I don't see why you should," she replied coldly. "I'm sure you have a
perfect right to do one thing and say another without consulting me."
Lady Isabelle was nettled, for she felt he had trifled with the serious
side of her nature. She had offered him good advice which he had
pretended to accept, and straightway her back was turned, he had
unblushingly belied his words.
"I beg your pardon," he said humbly. "I shouldn't have presumed to
suppose that you could have felt any real interest in my affairs."
"Oh, but I do," she replied, somewhat mollified. "A deep interest, the
interest of a friend."
She made it a point to qualify any statement that might be open to
possible misconstruction.
"I see I shall have to throw myself on your mercy, and tell you the
whole truth," said Stanley, which he proceeded not to do. "I intended
to write a letter."
"It isn't necessary. I would accept your word----"
"But you'd still have a lingering suspicion of me in your heart. As I
was saying--I intended to write to Mrs. Roberts, declining her
invitation, and forgot to do so till this morning, and then I made a
virtue of necessity, and as it was too late to refuse, telegraphed my
hour of arrival."
Had the light been a little stronger, he would have noted the quiet
smile which played about Lady Isabelle's face, though her silence was,
in itself, suggestive of the fact that she did not believe him.
"I probably shan't stay more than a few days, long enough to do the
proper thing, you know."
"Have you seen your friend?"
"Miss Fitzgerald? On my word, I haven't laid eyes on her. The fact is,
I've quite decided to follow your advice. You must be my guardian
angel."
Her Ladyship looked dubious at this, though the role of guardian angel
to an attractive young man has ever been dear to the feminine heart.
However that may be, her ultimate decision was perforce relegated to
another interview, by the appearance before them of the subject of their
conversation--Miss Belle Fitzgerald.
This much discussed lady was dressed in the apparent simplicity which
tells of art. Her costume, the very finest of white muslins, suggested
the lithe movements of the body it encased, with every motion she made,
and her simple bodice was of the fashion of thirty years ago, a fashion
which always inspired wonder that the clothes stayed on, and awe at the
ingenuity with which that miracle must have been accomplished. A broad
frill of the same material, caught with a knot of white ribbon at her
breast, framed her dazzling throat and neck, and a yellow sash, whose
end nearly touched the floor, encircled her waist; a sash whose colour
just matched the tint of that glorious hair, which, astonishing to
relate, hung loose down her back, and was surmounted by a very tiny
white bow, which was evidently a concession to the demands of
conventionality, as it could have been of no possible use in retaining
her tresses. That Miss Fitzgerald was able not only to adopt this style,
but to carry it off with unqualified success, and the approval of all
unprejudiced observers, was its own justification.
"I always wear my hair like this in the country," she had said at lunch.
"It is so much easier, and I'm really not old enough to paste it over my
forehead and go in for a bun behind"--this with a glance at Lady
Isabelle, which caused the Dowager Marchioness to exclaim, quite
audibly, that it was scandalous for that young person--she was sure she
had forgotten her name--to wear her hair as if she wasn't yet eighteen.
Lady Isabelle, it may be remarked, could lay no claim to anything under
twenty.
But certainly in this case, the end justified the deed, and Miss
Fitzgerald, rejuvenated, was one of the most simple, blithesome and gay
young maidens that the sun shone on.
Possibly this was the reason that she never saw or comprehended the
meaning of Lady Isabelle's uplifted eyebrows and steely glare, as she
drew up before the couple and violated the first rule of fair and open
warfare by interrupting their tete-a-tete.
"Well, Jimsy," she said, using a form of address that the rack would
never have wrung from his companion, "How are you? Feeling fit?"
He smiled uneasily, and, for the sake of saying something, since her
Ladyship preserved an ominous silence, remarked:
"There's no need of putting that question to you."
"Rather not. Once I'm in the country, I'm as frisky as a young colt,"
she rattled on. "I'm going to have such fun with you and Kingsland, and
I expect to be, as usual, quite spoiled. Now, how are you going to
begin?"
"Really," he faltered, rising in an access of agitation, for Lady
Isabelle's expression was fearful to behold.
"You shall run along with me to Mrs. Roberts," she continued, not giving
him an opportunity to flounder, "and tell her that she must send us down
to dinner together. Because you're a diplomat and will have a post of
honour, and the butler has given me the tip that we're to have just one
round of '80 champagne before the dessert, and you know we really must
have the first of the bottle, there is sure to be sediment farther
down."
"You must excuse me, but you see-- Lady Isabelle," and he indicated that
stony personage.
"Oh, I beg Lady Isabelle's pardon--it was so dark I didn't see her!" she
cried in a fit of demure shyness, and added--"If I have said anything
indiscreet, do explain it, there's a dear, good Jimsy."
"It's not necessary," came the icy tones of his companion. "I shouldn't
think of keeping you, Mr. Stanley, from such congenial society."
"At least, let me escort you to the drawing-room."
"Don't trouble yourself, I beg. I dare say I shall find some people
there who are contented to wait till their proper precedence has been
allotted to them," and she turned away.
"Oh, yes," the irrepressible Belle called after her. "I just sent
Kingsland up there. He's been showing me bank notes in the
billiard-room. I thought I'd never get rid of him."
If her Ladyship heard this information she betrayed no sign of the fact,
and Miss Fitzgerald returned to more congenial fields.
"You behaved disgracefully," said Stanley, as they went in search of
Mrs. Roberts, "and I shall have to spend most of this evening in trying
to make my peace with Lady Isabelle."
"Poor, proper Jimsy! Was he shocked? But I really couldn't help it, you
know--she's such a funny old thing."
The Secretary wisely changed the subject.
When they discovered Mrs. Roberts she assured them that their proposed
arrangement at table suited her exactly, but could not forbear
whispering in her niece's ear:
"I shouldn't think you'd have thought it necessary to ask. Of course,
I'd arranged it that way."
To which Miss Belle whispered in return:
"Don't be stupid!"