A BOLD STEP.
Mr. West announced that he was obliged to run down to Brighton on
business and would not return until late that night, and he commanded
his daughter to write and ask Lady Rachel to come and lunch, and spend
the day. At lunch time Lady Rachel duly drove up, and rustled in, full
of gossip, full of vitality, and dressed out in the last suggestion
of the winter’s fashion. She had a great deal to tell about a grand
dinner at a great house the previous evening, and retailed volubly and
at length--the _menu_, the names of the guests--twenty-six--and the
dresses of the ladies.
“I wore a new frock, rather a daring style, geranium-red, silk
skirt and sleeves, and a white satin body, veiled in black net, and
embroidered in steel sequins. But it really _was_ sweet--one of
Doucet’s. I dare not think of the price. However, it suited me--so my
cavalier assured me.”
“You asked him?”
“I don’t think I did. He was a barrister. Barristers are looking up!
Yes, another chicken cutlet, please,” holding out her plate--the
Jeameses were banished. “And such a good-looking young man--a Mr.
Wynne. My dear, you are giving me oyster sauce!” she screamed. “What
_are_ you thinking about? And, oh--where was I--what was I saying?
Yes, about Wynne. He was so amusing, and said such witty things. I
wish I could remember half--nay, any one of them--and pass them off
as my own. It was more the way he said them, though. And Madeline, my
love,” laying down her knife and fork, as if suddenly overwhelmed by
the recollection, “he had the most irresistible dark eyes I ever looked
into!”
“Ever looked into?” repeated Madeline. “You--you seem quite impressed,”
breaking up her bread rather viciously.
She--no, well she did not like it! How dared any woman talk of her
husband’s irresistible dark eyes? And Laurence, had he been flirting?
Could he flirt? Lady Rachel was an irreclaimable coquette.
“He is coming to dine with us next Sunday week. I wish you could come
too, and see my new lion. They say he is awfully clever. Writes such
smart articles, and scarifies us poor women. The emancipated female is
his particular horror.”
“Indeed! How very pleasant!”
“But men like him, which is always a good sign. They say he is going
into Parliament some day.”
“If you are going to make a lion of every one who is said to be going
into the House of Commons, you will be able to stock every menagerie in
Europe,” retorted Madeline, dusting crumbs off her lap.
“Or that I shall discover a good many asses under lions’ skins, eh? I
mentioned you, _ma belle_, and asked if he had ever heard of you, and
he said yes. See what it is to be a social celebrity! And I told him
that you were the prettiest girl and greatest heiress in London--and
that he really _ought_ to know you.”
“And--and what did he say?” turning a salt-cellar round and round.
“Oh, I’m not quite sure what he said beyond that he was a busy man,
and--oh yes, that he detested the genus heiress.”
And then the vivacious matron led the conversation away to another
topic, and Madeline led the way to her boudoir. Presently Lady Rachel
announced that she had an engagement at four o’clock, and that she
could not remain for tea--not even if Madeline went on her knees to
her, a feat that Maddie had no desire to perform--and finally she
rushed off in a sort of mild whirlwind of good-byes, kisses, and last
messages--screamed from the hall and stairs.
Then Madeline sat alone over the fire, and reflected on what she had
heard with keen discomfort, whilst she stupidly watched the red coals.
Laurence had not answered her last two letters--he had not taken
any notice of her call. Of course, he could not come to the house;
but at least he might have written. He had no right to treat her as
if she was a naughty child. He was entirely relieved of the burthen
of her support; he could start well and unweighted in the race. She
would pay for Harry too. Her father was impossible at present; he was
dreadfully worried about money matters--he was ill. She was doing her
best for Laurence and Harry. Surely, he knew that, and that she would
rather be with them than here. But as she glanced at her magnificent
surroundings, and at her silver tea equipage, just brought in by two
powdered servants, with a request to know “if there were any orders for
the carriage?” her heart misgave her.
Would not Laurence think that she preferred all this--that this wealth
was her attraction, luxury her idol--an idol that had cast out him and
poor little Harry?
She made a sudden decision. She would go and see Laurence. Yes, that
very evening partake of his frugal dinner--a chop, no doubt--and coax
him into a better frame of mind, and a better humour with herself.
She would wear her usual evening toilette, and give him an agreeable
surprise. The idea pleased her. She swallowed down her tea, ran quickly
up to her room, and rang for Josephine.
“Josephine,” she said, as that very smart person appeared, “I am going
out to dine with a friend--an old friend that I knew when I was at
school. I want to look my very best, though it will not be a party,
only one or two. What shall I wear?” beginning to pull off her velvet
morning-gown.
“Well, miss, for two or three--a quiet dinner, but smart no doubt--your
primrose satin with the chiffon body, just lighted with a few
brilliants. I’ll do your hair in the new knot, and run the diamond
arrow through it.”
This simple toilet occupied a considerable time. What with dressing
Madeline’s hair, lacing her gown, arranging her ornaments, it was
nearly seven before the great business was completed; but it was
finished at last, to Josephine’s entire satisfaction.
“Well, mademoiselle, I never saw you look better--no, nor as well!”
Madeline could not refrain from a smile as she glanced at her
reflection in the mirror; but her present sweet complacency was but
momentary. There was a bitter drop in the cup. Was it for this,
asked Madeline--this costly dress, those diamonds, and such-like
delights--that she sacrificed her home?
“No!” she retorted angrily, aloud, and much to Josephine’s
astonishment. “No, it is _not_.”
Yet even so she was but half convinced. She was presently enveloped in
a long crimson velvet mantle reaching to the ground, and trimmed with
furs that were as much an outward and visible sign of Mr. West’s wealth
as his house and carriage--Russian sables. Then she tied a scarf over
her head, took up her fan and gloves, and, in spite of Josephine’s
almost impassioned appeals to take a footman and go in the brougham,
set out in a hansom alone. She herself gave the reply through the trap,
in answer to the “Where to, miss?”
And the attendant footman could not catch the address.
There was a flavour of wild adventure about the whole expedition that
made her heart beat unusually fast. The idea of taking Laurence by
storm in his musty chambers, of cajoling him into a more amenable frame
of mind, of dining with him _tête-à-tête_, of trying the effect of
her much-augmented charms upon her own husband--for she had now fully
learnt to know the value of youth, beauty, and dress--all carried her
away out of her usual somewhat languorous frame of mind.
She felt a little nervous as she stepped out of the hansom in the
vicinity of the gloomy old Temple, and proceeded to Laurence’s
chambers, as before, on foot.
Fortunately the pavement was dry, and her dainty shoes were none the
worse.
She came to the door, and rang a pretty loud peal _this_ time, smiling
to herself as she thought of Laurence sitting over his solitary meal,
probably by the light of an equally solitary candle.
The door was opened by a curious jerk, and by some invisible agency,
and she beheld before her, half way up the stairs, the bearded beldame,
carrying a heavy tray, who, unable to turn her head, shouted out
querulously--“If that’s the washing, come in. I hope to gracious you’ve
done his shirts a bit better nor last week. They _were_ a sight; and
his collars! deary, deary me!”
And thus ejaculating, she rounded the staircase, and was lost to view;
but still she shouted, though her voice did _not_ come like a falling
star.
“You can go in by the other door, and lay them in his bedroom, and
leave the basket.”
Madeline was half suffocated with suppressed laughter as she tripped
quickly up after this authoritative old person, and as she went she
removed her head gear, and when she came to the top landing, she
rapidly divested herself of her long cloak.
The old woman was already in the outer office, which was lit, and had
deposited her load upon a table when, hearing a rustle and a footfall,
she turned and beheld Madeline--in other words, a tall, lovely young
lady, wearing a yellow evening dress, with diamond buttons, diamonds
in her hair, and carrying a huge painted fan in her exquisitely gloved
hands. No pen could convey any idea of her amazement, no brush seize
the expression of her countenance, as she staggered back against the
nearest desk, with limp arms, protruding eyes, and open mouth, which
presently uttered, in a loud and startled key, the one word “Laws!”