INSTRUCTIONS PERFORMED
Then Wilder opened the hall door and I saw a splendid carriage and pair
drawn up, the horses champing and flinging white foam about from their
mouths. Wilder came down the steps and helped me in, the tall footman
shut the door, and I heard Wilder's voice saying to the coachman,
"Coutts'."
Gracious! all the things I thought of as the carriage drove into Oxford
Street. It was an open landau, and I wondered that everyone did not
stop to stare at me. How strange all the people that were walking
seemed, just like mean things that had no business with life; how sweet
the violets smelt in my bosom.
How nice Wilder was, not a bit good looking, but so different from the
men I had mostly known. He was a gentleman, one could tell that just
by his easy and languid voice; and what a hold I had upon him. And this
journey to the north, I had a presentiment that it was to be strange,
but how could I have told how strange, how beautiful it was to be?
Then the carriage stopped at Coutts', and the tall footman opened the
door and touched his hat as I got out. I gave them Wilder's letter and
my cheque, and they gave me in return a cheque book.
The next place we stopped at was the Bond Street jewellers. These are
the rings I bought, see, they are on my fingers now. I never cared for
diamonds. I love colour. My rings are mostly half hoops of sapphires,
emeralds, and rubies; they would be vulgar only they are so glorious,
and then my hands are so beautiful that you scarcely notice the rings:
that was what Geraldine said. Good God! these tears will choke me: if
I could only cry, but I can't, it all comes at the back of my throat,
like a dull, heavy pain.
Then we drove to the other shop in Bond Street, where they sell
travelling bags. I chose the most expensive I could find, a hundred
and ten pounds I think it was. All the bottles had heavy gold tops,
and I ordered my initials to be put on them. I ordered portmanteaux as
well, and the man said everything would be ready next day by six in the
evening, initials and all.
It was dark when we got to Redfern's, but that did not matter, for I
had no colours to choose; funny, wasn't it, everything I got was either
white or black or grey--mourning or half-mourning. I don't know that it
was so funny after all, for this kind of dress suits me. I only spent
two hundred pounds on dresses; some were to be made and sent after me
when I knew the address I was going to, the others were to be sent next
morning to Berkeley Square. I could have died laughing at the civility
of these people at Redfern's, they thought I was some great lady--and
so I was.
It was eight o'clock before I got back to Berkeley Square that evening.