"Her ladyship has a very bad headache after the dust."
This I told Keene, who shrugged his shoulders.
At tea in the hall, where the guests were nearly all assembled--as gay
and well-dressed a crowd as could be found in all England--the Countess
approached me quite calmly, and said in a loud voice--
"George has just said that you've hurt your head, Mr Woodhouse. I'm so
very sorry. How did you manage it?"
The woman's imperturbable daring was simply marvellous. Her question
took me utterly aback.
"I--well, I slipped in the street, and fell," I stammered. "I gave my
skull a nasty knock. I suppose it would have been fractured if I had
not had such a thick head," I laughed, endeavouring to turn the
conversation into a joke.
"Ah! You're inviting compliments now!" exclaimed the brilliant
vivacious woman, whom surely none would suspect of associating with
those two men of the type of Belotto and Ostini.
"Any compliment from your ladyship is a compliment indeed," I declared,
bowing with mock gravity, whereupon the party laughed, and I saw that
she bit her lips in vexation. She knew that I was her enemy; and yet
she dare not openly quarrel.
She feared lest I might announce to her husband and her guests her visit
to Milan, and its tragic sequel.
Keene stood by, stroking his beard in wonder, half-fearing that she
might burst forth in fury at my sneer and dreading the result of hot
words between us.
Fortunately, however, she was discreet and laughed it off, while the
Earl remarked as he passed Lady Maud her cup--
"I like to hear Willoughby and Marigold quarrel. They slang each other
so very gracefully. Willoughby, you'd make a splendid ambassador.
You're so very diplomatic."
"I'm a good liar, if that's any qualification," I laughed openly.
"Somebody has said that the two essentials for success as an ambassador
are to have a lie ever ready on the lips, and a good coloured ribbon and
cross at the throat."
"Ah! and that's pretty near the mark too," observed Lord Cotterstock,
who had himself been in the diplomatic service. "It is said of Lord
Barmouth that when he was Ambassador at the Porte, he, for a joke, wore
the Blue Ribbon, and the Turkish Court thought it the highest of British
distinctions. He told the unspeakable ones that it was the Order of
Saint Schweppe!"
Whereupon there was a general laugh.
Tea concluded, and the guests dispersed. I was surprised at the
non-appearance of my beloved, for I longed to speak with her alone--to
learn what had occurred during my enforced absence.
Keene accompanied the Earl and some others across to the kennels after
tea, but by no amount of manoeuvring could I obtain an interview with
the Countess alone. She walked in the garden with old Lady Cotterstock,
in order that I should have no chance of speaking with her.
The house-party assembled in the white drawing-room prior to dinner, yet
Lolita did not put in an appearance. I therefore sent one of the
under-servants for the faithful Weston, who came to me at the top of the
grand staircase.
"Her ladyship has a very bad headache, sir. She's been lying down. But
she's now in her boudoir writing, and has told me that I am not to
disturb her this evening."
"But isn't she going to dine?" I inquired in surprise.
"She hasn't dressed, sir. She said she, had no appetite."
"She's not well, I believe, Weston," I said.
"No, sir," replied the maid anxiously. "I've noticed this last week or
two a very great change in her. She seems highly nervous, and when
alone always thinking very deeply, and--and--"
"And what?" I asked, seeing the excellent servant's hesitation.
"Well, sir, I don't know whether I really ought to mention it, but one
thing worries me very much. You know, sir, I've been her ladyship's
maid ever since she came back from school, and I'm much attached to
her."
"I know, Weston. I know quite well," I said. "You are most devoted to
her. But what is this you fear?"
"I really don't know, sir," was the young woman's answer. "But of late
the young mistress's mind seems constantly filled with morbid thoughts.
She's always talking of her death--and only a few days ago she actually
gave me some of her trinkets, saying that she would never require them
again."
"That's strange," I said, sighing, for I, alas! knew the reason. "You
must try and prevent her giving way to such thoughts. Go to her
boudoir, and tell her that after dinner I desire to see her. I'll come
up here later and see you--at nine o'clock."
"Very well, sir," was the maid's reply, and then I descended to the long
meal, where the chatter was gay, and the serving of the most ceremonious
character.
The brilliant women on either side of me interested me not a jot. My
only thought was for my absent well-beloved.
After dinner I eagerly sought Weston, who said--"No, sir. She has not
rung."
"Then take me to her," I said, "I wish to see her at once."
"But--"
"I will take the responsibility upon myself," I said. "Go and announce
me."
Reluctantly the maid went along the corridor and tapped at the door.
There was no response. I stood behind her as she tapped twice, then
opened the door. But the room was empty. The candles were burning upon
the writing-table, and in the room was a smell of burnt paper, while in
the grate lay a quantity of tinder. She had been destroying some
letters or papers. Weston was aghast to find that her mistress was
absent.
I went to the grate and saw that every particle of paper had been
consumed.