A YOUNG LADY PLEASANTLY OCCUPIED.
A few days afterward the Earl of Linleigh, with his daughter, went to
London. He had decided not to go to his own house, which was one of the
most beautiful mansions in Hyde Park--Hyde House. They were going simply
on business, and would spend the greater part of their time driving from
one store to another. The first visit, of course, was to Madame
Francoise, to whom the earl explained that his daughter required, in one
word, everything needful for a young lady of rank and position.
"It will take many hours, Doris," said the earl; "such things cannot be
hurried. I can leave you here while I drive on to my lawyer's, to
transact some business with him. Remember, my darling, you have _carte
blanche_--every whim to be gratified."
Then he drove away, leaving her with Madame Francoise. How forcibly it
recalled to her the time when Lord Vivianne had done the self-same
thing.
"Truly," she laughed to herself, "history repeats itself. How little
then did I foresee this."
So little that if even in a dream she could have been warned of it, she
would never have spoken to Lord Vivianne.
"Never mind," she said to herself, with the light-hearted _insouciance_
of her race. "Never mind, no one knows--nothing will come of it; but it
would certainly be a relief to me to hear that Lord Charles Vivianne was
dead."
The pity of it was that Lord Charles could not hear the remark; it would
have given him a lesson that he would not have forgotten.
Madame wondered what had brought so grave an air of preoccupation over
the beautiful young face. Surely, if any human being was to be envied,
it was the young girl who had _carte blanche_ in her elegant
establishment.
"She must know what she is about, though," thought madame. "Dreaming is
useless here."
She little knew Lady Doris. Going up to her with a book of patterns in
her hand, she was almost startled by the clear, keen gaze that met her
own--by the perfect judgment and cool, clear, calm sense of the earl's
daughter.
"There will be some few things, madame," said the clear, haughty voice,
"that you will understand far better than I do, others in which I shall
prefer to please myself."
And madame found that Lady Studleigh had a taste and artistic sense of
what is beautiful far superior to her own. The next few hours were
delightful to Doris. The rarest and most costly laces, the most
beautiful embroidery, the finest silk, the richest velvet--there never
were such purchases made. She did not limit herself either as to quality
or quantity, and nothing was forgotten--tiny slippers fit for
Cinderella, dancing shoes, fans, gloves. She might have been a practiced
old dowager, selecting a _trousseau_ for her youngest daughter. The sum
total was something enormous. Even madame, accustomed as she was to
large accounts, looked slightly frightened.
"My Lord Linleigh placed no limit," she said to Doris.
"No, I must have all I require; I shall not return to town until the
season begins," was the perfectly self-possessed reply.
Then Lord Linleigh returned, and madame watched his face intently as
that wonderful account was placed before him.
"It takes four figures," he said, with a smile; "that is quite right, my
darling. I hope that you have everything you want. To-morrow we will pay
a visit to Storr & Mortimer's, the jewelers. These packages, madame, are
all to be sent to Linleigh Court."
Doris was in the highest spirits. She said to herself--and it was
probably true--that no girl in England, not even a royal princess, had
such a _trousseau_; but she had too much good taste to show any undue
elation over it. When they had dined she said to her father:
"Papa, you will not care to spend the evening here; it will be dull for
you, and I cannot go out. Should you not like to go to your club?"
"Yes; but what of you, my dear?"
"I am tired, and shall be very glad to take a book and go to my own room
with it."
"My dear Doris," said the earl, who had slightly dreaded the long,
lonely evening, "you are a most sensible girl. If you treat Earle as you
treat me, he ought to be the happiest husband in the world."
"I hope he will be, papa," was the quiet reply. And she wondered what
her father, the Earl of Linleigh, would say if he knew from whom she had
taken her early lessons in the art of managing men.
"If you want a man to be really fond of you, Doris," he used to say, "to
feel at home with you, and never to be bored in your society, let him
have his own way--offer him his liberty, even when he does not seem
inclined to take it; suggest to him a game at billiards, a few hours at
his club--you have no idea how he will appreciate you for it."
She had found the charm work perfectly in the case of Lord Charles, and
now her father, too, seemed to admire the plan. What would he say if he
knew who had instructed her?
She went to her room. Lady Doris never traveled without a pleasant
little selection of light French literature--"it prevented her from
forgetting the language," she said.
The earl, inwardly hoping his wife would be as sensible as his daughter,
went off to spend a quiet evening at his club.
The day following was one of genuine delight to Lady Doris. The first
visit the earl paid was to the establishment of Messrs. Storr &
Mortimer; there she was to select for herself what jewels she would. She
had glanced once wistfully at the earl.
"Jewels are not like dress, papa. It is a dangerous thing to leave me
unlimited powers here."
"Lady Doris Studleigh must have jewels fitting her position," he said.
"Dress wears out, but jewels last forever."
So Lady Doris stood in that most tempting place, almost bewildered,
while sets of pearls, of diamonds, of rare emeralds, of pale pink coral,
then case after case of superb rings, were placed before her. She
thought of those so securely packed in her box, and wondered what would
be thought if their history could be known.
She chose some magnificent pearls; there were none fairer, even in that
place where the finest stones abound. Then she chose a set of emerald,
golden-green in their beautiful light; a set of pearls and rubies mixed;
rings until she had more than enough to cover the fingers of both hands;
golden chains of rare workmanship and beauty; watches of great value;
and when she could think of nothing else she could desire, she looked up
in the earl's face with a smile.
"That is not bad, my dear, for a beginning," he said, laughingly--"not
bad at all."
"You do not think I have purchased too much, papa?"
"No, my dear, you have not enough yet. I merely said it was very well
for a beginning."
What the amount of the bill was, or how many figures it took, she never
knew. The earl had said good-naturedly to himself that it did not
matter--he had many thousands to spare.
"There is yet another place," he said; "we must go to Parkins & Gotto's.
You require many things from there. You must have a dressing-case, a
lady's writing-table, and all kinds of knickknacks for your rooms."
The day following was spent at Mantall & Briard's, where Lady Doris gave
such orders for the fitting up of her four rooms as made even those
gentlemen open their eyes in undisguised wonder. Nothing was spared--no
luxury, no comfort; and that evening, when they sat together, Lady Doris
said to her father:
"I wonder if, in all the wide world, there is another girl in my
position."
"What position?" he asked.
"Why, it is a positive fact that I have not one single wish left
ungratified. If a fairy were to come and ask me to try and find one out,
I could not--I have not one."
He stooped down to kiss the beautiful face.
"I am glad to hear it," he replied. "I certainly do not think any one
else could say quite as much. I could not."
It was not of herself alone that Doris had thought that day. She had
been with the earl to give orders respecting the steam-plow; she had
chosen such a dress, such a shawl and cap for Mrs. Brace, that she knew
would bring tears of delight into that lady's eyes; she had chosen a box
full of millinery, with pretty ornaments, for Mattie; she had chosen for
Earle a box full of books such as she had often heard him long for. And
Lord Linleigh, while he admired her goodness of heart, her affectionate
memory, never for one moment thought that her quick study of him had led
her to do these different things. She longed for the hour in which she
should return to Linleigh; she wanted to see all the magnificent
purchases she had made placed at her own disposal. The Parisian
waiting-maid was found and one bright, clear, frosty morning they
returned to the Court.
"It looks like home," said Lady Doris. Her heart warmed to it, and beat
faster with a thrill of pride. It was her own home, from which nothing
could dislodge her!
She had had one fright in London; and though her nerves were strong, her
courage high, it had been a fright.
She was driving with the earl through New Bond Street, when on the
pavement she saw Gregory Leslie. There was no avoiding him--their eyes
met. His were filled with recognition and surprise--hers rested on him
with calm nonchalance, although her heart beat high. Then he smiled,
bowed, and half stood still; but the calm expression of her face never
wavered.
"Is it some one who knows you?" asked the earl.
"It is some one who has made a great mistake," she replied.
And then they passed out of sight--not, however, before Gregory Leslie
had seen the coronet on the panel.
"What a mistake I have made," he said to himself. "I certainly thought
that was my beautiful 'Innocence.' How like her! It cannot be such an
uncommon type of face, after all, when there are three now that
different people have seen--all so much alike. What would my 'Innocent'
do in an earl's carriage?--that is, if all be well with her; and Earle
said all was well."
She would not recognize him, for the simple reason that she feared to do
so. He was a man of the world, always in London, familiar with all the
little rumors at the clubs, and she dreaded what he might say afterward.
If by chance she should meet him when she was with the earl and
countess, she would recognize him, but not just then.
"It was an unfortunate thing for me," she said to herself, "having that
picture painted. If I had known then what I know now, it never would
have happened. Mark Brace and his wife were foolish to allow it."
But she had forgotten the whole matter when they reached Linleigh Court.
All the packages were there, and she was as happy as a queen
superintending the arrangements, the unpacking, the stowing away in
beautiful old wardrobes made of cedar.
Even the Parisian waiting-maid, who rejoiced in the name of Eugenie,
owned to herself that not one of the great ladies with whom she had
lived had a wardrobe like Lady Doris Studleigh's!
Then came the day for the earl's departure--he would not go until Mattie
had arrived.
"You cannot be left alone, my dear," he said, so decidedly that Doris
had not dared to urge the matter.
Mattie came, and was delighted. She cried a little at first, for,
despite all her faults, she had most dearly loved the young girl she
believed to be her sister. The story of Doris had been a great trouble
to her, and she had felt it bitterly; but after a time she forgot her
grief in the wonder excited by the magnificence of Linleigh Court. Lady
Doris was very kind to her; nothing of patronage or triumph was to be
detected in her manner.
The first time they were left alone together in what was to Mattie the
bewildering glories of the drawing-room, the brown eyes were raised
timidly to the fair face.
"Doris," said Mattie, "who could have believed that you were such a
great lady after all?"
"I had faith in myself, my dear," was the superb reply, "and that is a
great thing!"