The door-handle felt icy to fingers already frozen with fright, but he
stood firmly grasping it, ready to turn it noiselessly when he had
quite made up his mind what to do. The first expedient that suggested
itself with an overpowering sweetness of relief, was that of locking
his door, going back to bed again, and pretending that he had heard
nothing. But apart from the sheer cowardice of that, which he did not
mind so much, as nobody else would ever know his guilt, the thought of
the burglar going off quite unmolested with his property was
intolerable. Even if he could not summon up enough courage to get
downstairs with his life and a poker in his hand, he must at least give
them a good fright. They had frightened him, and so he would frighten
them. They should not have it all their own way, and if he decided not
to attack them (or him) single-handed, he could at least thump on the
floor, and call out "Burglars!" at the top of his voice, or shout
"Charles! Henry! Thomas!" as if summoning a bevy of stalwart footmen.
The objection to this course, however, would be that Foljambe or
somebody else might hear him, and in this case, if he did not then go
downstairs to mortal combat, the knowledge of his cowardice would be
the property of others beside himself.... And all the time he
hesitated, they were probably filling their pockets with his dearest
possessions.
He tried to send out a message of love, but he was totally unable to do
so.
Then the little clock in his mantelpiece struck two, which was a
miserable hour, sundered so far from dawn.
Though he had lived through years of agony since he got out of bed, the
actual passage of time, as he stood frozen to the door-handle, was but
the duration of a few brief seconds, and then making a tremendous call
on his courage he felt his way to his fireplace, and picked up the
poker. The tongs and shovel rattled treacherously, and he hoped that
had not been heard, for the essence of his plan (though he had yet no
idea what that plan was) must be silence till some awful surprise broke
upon them. If only he could summon the police, he could come rushing
downstairs with his poker, as the professional supporters of the law
gained an entrance to his house, but unfortunately the telephone was
downstairs, and he could not reasonably hope to carry on a conversation
with the police station without being overheard by the burglars.
He opened his door with so masterly a movement that there was no sound
either from the hinges nor from the handle as he turned it, and peered
out. The hall below was dark, but a long pencil of light came from the
drawing room, which showed where the reckless brutes must be, and
there, too, alas! was his case of treasures. Then suddenly he heard the
sound of a voice, speaking very low, and another voice answered it. At
that Georgie's heart sank, for this proved that there must be at least
two burglars, and the odds against him were desperate. After that came
a low, cruel laugh, the unmistakable sound of the rattle of knives and
forks, and the explosive uncorking of a bottle. At that his heart sank
even lower yet, for he had read that cool habitual burglars always had
supper before they got to work, and therefore he was about to deal with
a gang of professionals. Also that explosive uncorking clearly
indicated champagne, and he knew that they were feasting on his best.
And how wicked of them to take their unhallowed meal in his
drawing-room, for there was no proper table there, and they
would be making a dreadful mess over everything.
A current of cool night air swept up the stairs, and Georgie saw the
panel of light from the open drawing-room door diminish in width, and
presently the door shut with a soft thud, leaving him in the dark. At
that his desperation seemed pressed and concentrated into a moment of
fictitious courage, for he unerringly reasoned that they had left the
drawing-room window open, and that perhaps in a few moments now they
would have finished their meal and with bulging pockets would step
forth unchallenged into the night. Why had he never had bolts put on
his shutters, like Mrs Weston, who lived in nightly terror of burglars?
But it was too late to think of that now, for it was impossible to ask
them to step out till he had put bolts up, and then when he was ready
begin again.
He could not let them go gorged with his champagne and laden with his
treasures without reprisals of some sort, and keeping his thoughts
steadily away from revolvers and clubs and sandbags, walked straight
downstairs, threw open the drawing-room door, and with his poker
grasped in his shaking hand, cried out in a faint, thin voice:
"If you move I shall fire."
There was a moment of dead silence, and a little dazzled with the light
he saw what faced him.
At opposite ends of his Chippendale sofa sat Hermy and Ursy. Hermy had
her mouth open and held a bun in her dirty hands. Ursy had her mouth
shut and her cheeks were bulging. Between them was a ham and a loaf of
bread, and a pot of marmalade and a Stilton cheese, and on the floor
was the bottle of champagne with two brimming bubbling tea cups full of
wine. The cork and the wire and the tin-foil they had, with some show
of decency, thrown into the fireplace.
Hermy put down her bun, and gave a great shout of laughter; Ursy's
mouth was disgustingly full and she exploded. Then they lay back
against the arms of the sofa and howled.
Georgie was very much vexed.
"Upon my word, Hermy!" he said, and then found it was not nearly a
strong enough expression. And in a moment of ungovernable irritation he
said:
"Damn it all!"
Hermy showed signs of recovery first, and as Georgie came back after
shutting the window, could find her voice, while Ursy collected small
fragments of ham and bread which she had partially chewed.
"Lord! What a lark!" she said. "Georgie, it's _the_ most ripping
lark."
Ursy pointed to the poker.
"He'll fire if we move," she cried. "Or poke the fire, was it?"
"Ask another!" screamed Hermy. "Oh, dear, he thought we were burglars,
and came down with a poker, brave boy! It's positively the limit. Have
a drink, Georgie."
Suddenly her eyes grew round and awestruck, and pointing with her
finger to Georgie's shoulder, she went off into another yell of
laughter.
"Ursy! His hair!" she said, and buried her face in a soft cushion.
Naturally Georgie had not put his hair in order when he came
downstairs, for nobody thinks about things like that when he is going
to encounter burglars single-handed, and there was his bald pate and
his long tresses hanging down one side.
It was most annoying, but when an irremediable annoyance has absolutely
occurred, the only possible thing for a decent person to do is to take
it as lightly as possible. Georgie rose gallantly to the occasion, gave
a little squeal and ran from the room.
"Down again presently," he called out, and had a heavy fall on the
stairs, as he went up to his bedroom. There he had a short argument
with himself. It was possible to slam his door, go to bed, and be very
polite in the morning. But that would never do: Hermy and Ursy would
have a joke against him forever. It was really much better to share in
the joke, identifying himself with it. So he brushed his hair in the
orthodox fashion, put on a very smart dressing-gown, and came tripping
downstairs again.
"My dears, what fun!" he said. "Let's all have supper. But let's move
into the dining-room, where there's a table, and I'll get another
bottle of wine, and some glasses, and we'll bring Tipsipoozie in. You
naughty girls, fancy arriving at a time like this. I suppose your plan
was to go very quietly to bed, and come down to breakfast in the
morning, and give me a fine surprise. Tell me about it now."
So presently Tipsipoozie was having his marmalade, which did just as
well as jam, and they were all eating slices off the ham, and stuffing
them into split buns.
"Yes, we thought we might as well do it all in one go," said Hermy,
"and it's a hundred and twenty miles, if it's a yard. And then it was
so late when we got here, we thought we wouldn't disturb you, specially
as the drawing-room window wasn't bolted."
"Bicycles outside," said Ursy, "they'll just have to be out at grass
till morning. Oh, Tipsi-ipsi-poozie-woozy, how is you? Hope he behaved
like the good little Tiptree that he is, Georgie?"
"O yes, we made great friends," said Georgie sketchily. "He was wee bit
upset at the station, but then he had a good tea with his Uncle Georgie
and played hide and seek."
Rather rashly, Georgie made a face at Tiptree, the sort of face which
amuses children. But it didn't amuse Tiptree, who made another face, in
which teeth played a prominent part.
"Fool-dog," said Hermy, carelessly smacking him across the nose.
"Always hit him if he shows his teeth, Georgie. Pass the fizz."
"Well, so we got through the drawing-room window," continued Ursy, "and
golly, we were hungry. So we foraged, and there we were! Jolly plucky
of you, Georgie, to come down and beard us."
"Real sport," said Hermy. "And how's old Fol-de-rol-de-ray? Why didn't
she come down and fight us, too?"
Georgie guessed that Hermy was making a humourous allusion to Foljambe,
who was the one person in Riseholme whom his two sisters seemed to hold
in respect. Ursy had once set a booby-trap for Georgie, but the mixed
biscuits and Brazil nuts had descended on Foljambe instead. On that
occasion Foljambe, girt about in impenetrable calm, had behaved as if
nothing had happened and trod on biscuits and Brazil nuts without a
smile, unaware to all appearance that there was anything whatever
crunching and exploding beneath her feet. That had somehow quelled the
two, who, as soon as she left the room again, swept up the mess, and
put the uninjured Brazil nuts back into the dessert dish.... It would
never do if Foljambe lost her prestige and was alluded to by some
outrageously slangy name.
"If you mean Foljambe," said Georgie icily, "it was because I didn't
think it worth while to disturb her."
In spite of their ride, the indefatigable sisters were up early next
morning, and the first thing Georgie saw out of his bathroom window was
the pair of them practising lifting shots over the ducking pond on the
green till breakfast was ready. He had given a short account of last
night's adventure to Foljambe when she called him, omitting the episode
about his hair, and her disapproval was strongly indicated by her
silence then, and the studied contempt of her manner to the sisters
when they came in to breakfast.
"Hullo, Foljambe," said Hermy. "We had a rare lark last night."
"So I understand, miss," said Foljambe.
"Got in through the drawing-room window," said Hermy, hoping to make
her smile.
"Indeed, miss," said Foljambe. "Have you any orders for the car, sir?"
"Oh, Georgie, may we run over to the links this morning?" asked Hermy.
"Mayn't Dickie-bird take us there?"
She glanced at Foljambe to see whether this brilliant wit afforded her
any amusement. Apparently it didn't.
"Tell Dicky to be round at half-past ten," said Georgie.
"Yes, sir."
"Hurrah!" said Ursy. "Come, too, Foljambe, and we'll have a three-ball
match."
"No, thank you, miss," said Foljambe, and sailed from the room, looking
down her nose.
"Golly, what an iceberg!" said Hermy when the door was quite shut.
Georgie was not sorry to have the morning to himself, for he wanted to
have a little quiet practice at the Mozart trio, before he went over to
Lucia's at half-past eleven, the hour when she had arranged to run
through it for the first time. He would also have time to do a few
posturing exercises before the first Yoga-class, which was to take
place in Lucia's smoking-parlour at half-past twelve. That would make a
pretty busy morning, and as for the afternoon, there would be sure to
be some callers, since the arrival of his sisters had been expected,
and after that he had to go to the Ambermere Arms for his visit to Olga
Bracely.... And what was he to do about her with regard to Lucia?
Already he had been guilty of disloyalty, for Lady Ambermere had warned
him of the prima-donna's arrival yesterday, and he had not instantly
communicated that really great piece of news to Lucia. Should he make
such amends as were in his power for that omission, or, greatly daring,
should he keep her to himself, as Mrs Quantock so fervently wished that
she had done with regard to the Guru? After the adventure of last
night, he felt he ought to be able to look any situation in the face,
but he found himself utterly unable to conceive himself manly and erect
before the bird-like eyes of the Queen, if she found out that Olga
Bracely had been at Riseholme for the day of her garden-party, and that
Georgie, knowing it and having gone to see her, had not informed the
Court of that fact.
The spirit of Bolshevism, the desire to throw off all authority and act
independently, which had assailed him yesterday returned now with
redoubled force. If he had been perfectly certain that he would not be
found out, there is no doubt he would have kept it from her, and yet,
after all, what was the glory of going to see Olga Bracely (and perhaps
even entertaining her here) if all Riseholme did not turn green with
jealousy? Moreover there was every chance of being found out, for Lady
Ambermere would be at the garden party tomorrow, and she would be sure
to wonder why Lucia had not asked Olga. Then it would come out that
Lucia didn't know of that eminent presence, and Lady Ambermere would be
astonished that Georgie had not told her. Thus he would be in the
situation which his imagination was unable to face, although he had
thrown the drawing room door open in the middle of the night, and
announced that he would fire with his poker.
No; he would have to tell Lucia, when he went to read the Mozart trio
with her for the first time, and very likely she would call on Olga
Bracely herself, though nobody had asked her to, and take all the wind
out of Georgie's sails. Sickening though that would be, he could not
face the alternative, and he opened his copy of the Mozart trio with a
sigh. Lucia _did_ push and shove, and have everything her own way.
Anyhow he would _not_ tell her that Olga and her husband were
dining at The Hall tonight; he would not even tell her that her
husband's name was Shuttleworth, and Lucia might make a dreadful
mistake, and ask Mr and Mrs Bracely. That would be jam for Georgie,
and he could easily imagine himself saying to Lucia, "My dear, I thought
you must have known that she had married Mr Shuttleworth and kept her
maiden name! How tarsome for you! They are so touchy about that sort of
thing."
Georgie heard the tinkle of the treble part of the Mozart trio (Lucia
always took the treble, because it had more tune in it, though she
pretended that she had not Georgie's fine touch, which made the bass
effective) as he let himself in to Shakespeare's garden a few minutes
before the appointed time. Lucia must have seen him from the window,
for the subdued noise of the piano ceased even before he had got as far
as Perdita's garden round the sundial, and she opened the door to him.
The far-away look was in her eyes, and the black undulations of hair
had encroached a little on her forehead, but, after all, others besides
Lucia had trouble with their hair, and Georgie only sympathized.
"Georgino mio!" she said. "It is all being so wonderful. There seems a
new atmosphere about the house since my Guru came. Something holy and
peaceful; do you not notice it?"
"Delicious!" said Georgie, inhaling the pot-pourri. "What is he doing
now?"
"Meditating, and preparing for our class. I do hope dear Daisy will not
bring in discordant elements."
"Oh, but that's not likely, is it?" said Georgie. "I thought he said
she had so much light."
"Yes, he did. But now he is a little troubled about her, I think. She
did not want him to go away from her house, and she sent over here for
some silk pyjamas belonging to her husband, which he thought she had
given him. But Robert didn't think so at all. The Guru brought them
across yesterday after he had left good thoughts for her in her house.
But it was the Guides who wished him to come here; they told him so
distinctly. It would have been very wrong of me not to do as they
said."
She gave a great sigh.
"Let us have an hour with Mozart," she said "and repel all thought of
discord. My Guru says that music and flowers are good influences for
those who are walkers on the Way. He says that my love for both of them
which I have had all my life will help me very much."
For one moment the mundane world obtruded itself into the calm peace.
"Any news in particular?" she asked. "I saw you drive back from the
station yesterday afternoon, for I happened to be looking out of the
window, in a little moment of leisure--the Guru says I work too hard,
by the way--and your sisters were not with you. And yet there were two
cabs, and a quantity of luggage. Did they not come?"
Georgie gave a respectably accurate account of all that had happened,
omitting the fact of his terror when first he awoke, for that was not
really a happening, and had had no effect on his subsequent
proceedings. He also omitted the adventure about his hair, for that was
quite extraneous, and said what fun they had all had over their supper
at half past two this morning.
"I think you were marvellously brave, Georgie," said she, "and most
good natured. You must have been sending out love, and so were full of
it yourself, and that casts out fear."
She spread the music open.
"Anything else?" she asked.
Georgie took his seat and put his rings on the candle-bracket.
"Oh yes," he said, "Olga Bracely, the prima-donna, you know, and her
husband are arriving at the Ambermere Arms this afternoon for a couple
of days."
The old fire kindled.
"No!" exclaimed Lucia. "Then they'll be here for my party tomorrow.
Fancy if she would come and sing for us! I shall certainly leave cards
today, and write later in the evening, asking her."
"I have been asked to go and see her," said Georgie, not proudly.
The music rest fell down with a loud slap, but Lucia paid no attention.
"Let us go together then," she said. "Who asked you to call on her?"
"Lady Ambermere," said he.
"When she was in here yesterday? She never mentioned it to me. But she
would certainly think it very odd of me not to call on friends of hers,
and be polite to them. What time shall we go?"
Georgie made up his mind that wild horses should not drag from him the
fact that Olga's husband's name was Shuttleworth, for here was Lucia
grabbing at his discovery, just as she had grabbed at Daisy's discovery
who was now "her Guru." She should call him Mr Bracely then.
"Somewhere about six, do you think?" said he, inwardly raging.
He looked up and distinctly saw that sharp foxy expression cross
Lucia's face, which from long knowledge of her he knew to betoken that
she had thought of some new plan. But she did not choose to reveal it
and re-erected the music-rest.
"That will do beautifully," she said. "And now for our heavenly Mozart.
You must be patient with me, Georgie, for you know how badly I read.
_Caro!_ How difficult it looks. I am frightened! Lucia never saw
such a dwefful thing to read!"
And it had been those very bars, which Georgie had heard through the
open window just now.
"Georgie's is much more dwefful!" he said, remembering the double sharp
that came in the second bar. "Georgie fwightened too at reading it.
O-o-h," and he gave a little scream. "Cattivo Mozart to wite anything
so dwefful diffy!"
It was quite clear at the class this morning that though the pupils
were quite interested in the abstract messages of love which they were
to shoot out in all directions, and in the atmosphere of peace with
which they were to surround themselves, the branch of the subject which
thrilled them to the marrow was the breathing exercises and contortions
which, if persevered in, would give them youth and activity, faultless
digestions and indefatigable energy. They all sat on the floor, and
stopped up alternate nostrils, and held their breath till Mrs Quantock
got purple in the face, and Georgie and Lucia red, and expelled their
breath again with sudden puffs that set the rushes on the floor
quivering, or with long quiet exhalations. Then there were certain
postures to be learned, in one of which, entailing the bending of the
body backwards, two of Georgie's trouser-buttons came off with a sharp
snap and he felt the corresponding member of his braces, thus violently
released, spring up to his shoulder. Various other embarrassing noises
issued from Lucia and Daisy that sounded like the bursting of strings
and tapes, but everybody pretended to hear nothing at all, or covered
up the report of those explosions with coughings and clearings of the
throat. But apart from these discordances, everything was fairly
harmonious indeed, so far from Daisy introducing discords, she wore a
fixed smile, which it would have been purely cynical to call superior,
when Lucia asked some amazingly simple question with regard to Om. She
sighed too, at intervals, but these sighs were expressive of nothing
but patience and resignation, till Lucia's ignorance of the most
elementary doctrines was enlightened, and though she rather pointedly
looked in any direction but hers, and appeared completely unaware of
her presence, she had not, after all, come here to look at Lucia, but
to listen to her own (whatever Lucia might say) Guru.
At the end Lucia, with her far-away look, emerged, you might say, in a
dazed condition from hearing about the fastness of Thibet, where the
Guru had been in commune with the Guides, whose wisdom he interpreted
to them.
"I feel such a difference already," she said dreamily. "I feel as if I
could never be hasty or worried any more at all. Don't you experience
that, dear Daisy?"
"Yes, dear," said she. "I went through all that at my first lesson.
Didn't I, Guru dear?"
"I felt it too," said Georgie, unwilling not to share in these
benefits, and surreptitiously tightening his trouser-strap to
compensate for the loss of buttons. "And am I to do that swaying
exercise before every meal?"
"Yes, Georgie," said Lucia, saving her Guru from the trouble of
answering. "Five times to the right and five times to the left and then
five times backwards and forwards. I felt so young and light just now
when we did it that I thought I was rising into the air. Didn't you,
Daisy?"
Daisy smiled kindly.
"No, dear, that is levitation," she said, "and comes a very long way
on."
She turned briskly towards her Guru.
"Will you tell them about that time when you levitated at Paddington
Station?" she said. "Or will you keep that for when Mrs Lucas gets
rather further on? You must be patient, dear Lucia; we all have to go
through the early stages, before we get to that."
Mrs Quantock spoke as if she was in the habit of levitating herself,
and it was but reasonable, in spite of the love that was swirling about
them all, that Lucia should protest against such an attitude. Humility,
after all, was the first essential to progress on the Way.
"Yes, dear," she said. "We will tread these early stages together, and
encourage each other."
Georgie went home, feeling also unusually light and hungry, for he had
paid special attention to the exercise that enabled him to have his
liver and digestive organs in complete control, but that did not
prevent him from devoting his mind to arriving at that which had made
Lucia look so sharp and foxy during their conversation about Olga
Bracely. He felt sure that she was meaning to steal a march on him, and
she was planning to draw first blood with the prima-donna, and, as
likely as not, claim her for her own, with the same odious greed as she
was already exhibiting with regard to the Guru. All these years Georgie
had been her faithful servant and coadjutor; now for the first time the
spirit of independence had begun to seethe within him. The scales were
falling from his eyes, and just as he turned into shelter of his
mulberry-tree, he put on his spectacles to see how Riseholme was
getting on without him to assist at the morning parliament. His absence
and Mrs Quantock's would be sure to evoke comment, and since the Yoga
classes were always to take place at half-past twelve, the fact that
they would never be there, would soon rise to the level of a
first-class mystery. It would, of course, begin to leak out that
they and Lucia were having a course of Eastern philosophy that made
its pupils young and light and energetic, and there was a sensation!
Like all great discoveries, the solution of Lucia's foxy look broke on
him with the suddenness of a lightning-flash, and since it had been
settled that she should call for him at six, he stationed himself in
the window of his bathroom, which commanded a perfect view of the
village green and the entrance to the Ambermere Arms at five. He had
brought up with him a pair of opera-glasses, with the intention of
taking them to bits, so he had informed Foljambe, and washing their
lenses, but he did not at once proceed about this, merely holding them
ready to hand for use. Hermy and Ursy had gone back to their golf again
after lunch, and so callers would be told that they were all out. Thus
he could wash the lenses, when he chose to do so, uninterrupted.
The minutes passed on pleasantly enough, for there was plenty going on.
The two Miss Antrobuses frisked about the green, jumping over the
stocks in their playful way, and running round the duck-pond in the
eternal hope of attracting Colonel Boucher's attention to their pretty
nimble movements. For many years past, they had tried to gain Georgie's
serious attention, without any result, and lately they had turned to
Colonel Boucher. There was Mrs Antrobus there, too, with her ham-like
face and her ear-trumpet, and Mrs Weston was being pushed round and
round the asphalt path below the elms in her bath-chair. She hated
going slow, and her gardener and his boy took turns with her during her
hour's carriage exercise, and propelled her, amid streams of
perspiration, at a steady four miles an hour. As she passed Mrs
Antrobus she shouted something at her, and Mrs Antrobus returned her
reply, when next she came round.
Suddenly all these interesting objects vanished completely from
Georgie's ken, for his dark suspicions were confirmed, and there was
Lucia in her "Hightum" hat and her "Hightum" gown making her gracious
way across the green. She had distinctly been wearing one of the
"Scrub" this morning at the class, so she must have changed after
lunch, which was an unheard of thing to do for a mere stroll on the
green. Georgie knew well that this was no mere stroll; she was on her
way to pay a call of the most formal and magnificent kind. She did not
deviate a hair-breadth from her straight course to the door of the
Arms, she just waggled her hand to Mrs Antrobus, blew a kiss to her
sprightly daughters, made a gracious bow to Colonel Boucher, who stood
up and took his hat off, and went on with the inexorability of the
march of destiny, or of fate knocking at the door in the immortal fifth
symphony. And in her hand she carried a note. Through his glasses
Georgie could see it quite plainly, and it was not a little folded-up
sheet, such as she commonly used, but a square thick envelope. She
disappeared in the Arms and Georgie began thinking feverishly. A great
deal depended on how long she stopped there.
A few little happenings beguiled the period of waiting. Mrs Weston
desisted from her wild career, and came to anchor on the path just
opposite the door into the Arms, while the gardener's boy sank
exhausted on to the grass. It was quite easy to guess that she proposed
to have a chat with Lucia when she came out. Similarly the Miss
Antrobuses who had paid no attention to her at all before, ceased from
their pretty gambolings, and ran up to talk to her, so they wanted a
word too. Colonel Boucher, a little less obviously, began throwing
sticks into the ducking-pond for his bull-dog (for Lucia would be
obliged to pass the ducking-pond) and Mrs Antrobus examined the stocks
very carefully, as if she had never seen them before.
And then, before a couple of minutes had elapsed Lucia came out. She
had no longer the note in her hand, and Georgie began taking his
opera-glasses to bits, in order to wash the lenses. For the present
they had served their purpose. "She has left a note on Olga Bracely,"
said Georgie quite aloud, so powerful was the current of his thoughts.
Then as a corollary came the further proposition which might be
considered as proved, "But she had not seen her."
The justice of this conclusion was soon proved, for Lucia had hardly
disengaged herself from the group of her subjects, and traversed the
green on her way back to her house, when a motor passed Georgie's
bathroom window, closely followed by a second; both drew up at the
entrance to the Ambermere Arms. With the speed of a practised optician
Georgie put his opera glass together again, and after looking through
the wrong end of it in his agitation was in time to see a man get out
of the second car, and hold the carriage-door open for the occupants of
the first. A lady got out first, tall and slight in figure, who stood
there unwinding her motor veil, then she turned round again, and with a
thump of his heart that surprised Georgie with its violence, he beheld
the well-remembered features of his Brunnhilde.
Swiftly he passed into his bedroom next door, and arrayed himself in
his summer Hightums; a fresh (almost pearly) suit of white duck, a
mauve tie with an amethyst pin in it, socks, tightly braced up, of
precisely the same colour as the tie, so that an imaginative beholder
might have conjectured that on this warm day the end of his tie had
melted and run down his legs; buckskin shoes with tall slim heels and a
straw hat completed this pretty Hightum. He had meant to wear it for
the first time at Lucia's party tomorrow, but now, after her meanness,
she deserved to be punished. All Riseholme should see it before she
did.
The group round Mrs Weston's chair was still engaged in conversation
when Georgie came up, and he casually let slip what a bore it was to
pay calls on such a lovely day, but he had promised to visit Miss Olga
Bracely, who had just arrived. So there was another nasty one for
Lucia, since now all Riseholme would know of her actual arrival before
Lucia did.
"And who, Mr Georgie," asked Mrs Antrobus presenting her trumpet to him
in the manner in which an elephant presents its trunk to receive a
bun, "who was that with her?"
"Oh, her husband, Mr Shuttleworth," said Georgie. "They have just been
married, and are on their honeymoon." And if that was not another
staggerer for Lucia, it is diffy, as Georgie would say, to know what a
staggerer is. For Lucia would be last of all to know that this was not
Mr Bracely.
"And will they be at Mrs Lucas's party tomorrow?" asked Mrs Weston.
"Oh, does she know them?" asked Georgie.
"Haw, haw, by Jove!" began Colonel Boucher. "Very handsome woman. Envy
you, my boy. Pity it's their honeymoon. Haw!"
Mrs Antrobus's trumpet was turned in his direction at this moment, and
she heard these daring remarks.
"Naughty!" she said, and Georgie, the envied, passed in into the inn.
He sent in his card, on which he had thought it prudent to write "From
Lady Ambermere," and was presently led through into the garden behind
the building. There she was, tall and lovely and welcoming, and held
out a most cordial hand.
"How kind of you to come and see us," she said. "Georgie, this is Mr
Pillson. My husband."
"How do you do, Mr Shuttleworth," said Georgie to shew he knew, though
his own Christian name had given him quite a start. For the moment he
had almost thought she was speaking to him.
"And so Lady Ambermere asked you to come and see us?" Olga went on. "I
think that was much kinder of her than to ask us to dinner. I hate
going out to dinner in the country almost as much as I hate not going
out to dinner in town. Besides with that great hook nose of hers, I'm
always afraid that in an absent moment I might scratch her on the head
and say 'Pretty Polly.' Is she a great friend of yours, Mr Pillson? I
hope so, because everyone likes his best friends being laughed at."
Up till that moment Georgie was prepared to indicate that Lady
Ambermere was the hand and he the glove. But evidently that would not
impress Olga in the least. He laughed in a most irreverent manner
instead.
"Don't let us go," she went on. "Georgie, can't you send a telegram
saying that we have just discovered a subsequent engagement and then
we'll ask Mr Pillson to show us round this utterly adorable place, and
dine with us afterwards. That would be so much nicer. Fancy living
here! Oh, and do tell me something, Mr Pillson. I found a note when I
arrived half an hour ago, from Mrs Lucas asking me and Mr Shuttleworth
to go to a garden-party tomorrow. She said she didn't even hope that I
should remember her, but would we come. Who is she? Really I don't
think she can remember me very well, if she thinks I am Mrs Bracely.
Georgie says I must have been married before, and that I have caused
him to commit bigamy. That's pleasant conversation for a honeymoon,
isn't it? Who is she?"
"Oh, she's quite an old friend of mine," said Georgie, "though I never
knew she had met you before; I'm devoted to her."
"Extremely proper. But now tell me this, and look straight in my face,
so that I shall know if you're speaking the truth. Should I enjoy
myself more wandering about this heavenly place than at her garden
party?"
Georgie felt that poor Lucia was really punished enough by this time.
"You will give her a great deal of pleasure if you go," he began.
"Ah, that's not fair; it is hitting below the belt to appeal to
unselfish motives. I have come here simply to enjoy myself. Go on; eyes
front."
The candour and friendliness of that beautiful face gave Georgie an
impulse of courage. Besides, though no doubt in fun, she had already
suggested that it would be much nicer to wander about with him and dine
together than spend the evening among the splendours of The Hall.
"I've got a suggestion," he said. "Will you come and lunch with me
first, and we'll stroll about, and then we can go to the garden-party,
and if you don't like it I'll take you away again?"
"Done!" she said. "Now don't you try to get out of it, because my
husband is a witness. Georgie, give me a cigarette."
In a moment Riseholme-Georgie had his cigarette-case open.
"Do take one of mine," he said, "I'm Georgie too."
"You don't say so! Let's send it to the Psychical Research, or whoever
those people are who collect coincidences and say it's spooks. And a
match please, one of you Georgies. Oh, how I should like never to see
the inside of an Opera House again. Why mayn't I grow on the walls of a
garden like this, or better still, why shouldn't I have a house and
garden of my own here, and sing on the village-green, and ask for
halfpennies? Tell me what happens here! I've always lived in town since
the time a hook-nosed Hebrew, rather like Lady Ambermere, took me out
of the gutter."
"My dear!" said Mr Shuttleworth.
"Well, out of an orphan-school at Brixton and I would much prefer the
gutter. That's all about my early life just now, because I am keeping
it for my memoirs which I shall write when my voice becomes a little
more like a steam-whistle. But don't tell Lady Ambermere, for she would
have a fit, but say you happen to know that I belong to the Surrey
Bracelys. So I do; Brixton is on the Surrey side. Oh, my dear, look at
the sun. It's behaving like the best sort of Claude! Heile Sonne!"
"I heard you do that last May," said Georgie.
"Then you heard a most second-rate performance," said she. "But really
being unlaced by that Thing, that great fat profligate beery Prussian
was almost too much for me. And the duet! But it was very polite of you
to come, and I will do better next time. Siegfried! Brunnhilde!
Siegfried! Miaou! Miaou! Bring on the next lot of cats! Darling
Georgie, wasn't it awful? And you had proposed to me only the day
before."
"I was absolutely enchanted," said Riseholme-Georgie.
"Yes, but then you didn't have that Thing breathing beer into your
innocent face." Georgie rose; the first call on a stranger in
Riseholme was never supposed to last more than half an hour, however
much you were enjoying it, and never less, however bored you might be,
and he felt sure he had already exceeded this.
"I must be off," he said. "Too delightful to think that you and Mr
Shuttleworth will come to lunch with me tomorrow. Half past one, shall
we say?"
"Excellent; but where do you live?"
"Just across the green. Shall I call for you?" he asked.
"Certainly not. Why should you have that bother?" she said. "Ah, let me
come with you to the inn-door, and perhaps you will shew me from
there."
She passed through the hall with him, and they stood together in the
sight of all Riseholme, which was strolling about the green at this as
at most other hours. Instantly all faces turned round in their
direction, like so many sunflowers following the sun, while Georgie
pointed out his particular mulberry tree. When everybody had had a good
look, he raised his hat.
_"A domani_ then," she said. "So many thanks."
And quite distinctly she kissed her hand to him as he turned away....
"So she talks Italian too," thought Georgie, as he dropped little
crumbs of information to his friends on his way to his house.
_"Domani,_ that means tomorrow. Oh yes; she was meaning lunch."
It is hardly necessary to add that on the table in his hall there was
one of Lucia's commoner kinds of note, merely a half sheet folded
together in her own manner. Georgie felt that it was scarcely more
necessary to read it, for he felt quite sure that it contained some
excuse for not coming to his house at six in order to call on Mr and
Mrs Bracely. But he gave a glance at it before he rolled it up in a
ball for Tipsipoozie to play with, and found its contents to be
precisely what he expected, the excuse being that she had not done her
practising. But the post-script was interesting, for it told him that
she had asked Foljambe to give her his copy of Siegfried....
Georgie strolled down past The Hurst before dinner. Mozart was silent
now, but there came out of the open windows the most amazing hash of
sound, which he could just recognise as being the piano arrangement of
the duet between Brunnhilde and Siegfried at the end. He would have
been dull indeed if he had not instantly guessed what _that_
signified.