A BOMBSHELL
"Good morning, Miss Brent."
Patricia was surprised at the graciousness of Mrs. Bonsor's salutation,
particularly after the episode of the Zoo on the previous afternoon.
"Good morning," she responded, and made to go upstairs to take off her
hat and coat.
"I congratulate you," proceeded Mrs. Bonsor in honeyed tones; "but I'm
just a little hurt that you did not confide in me." Mrs. Bonsor's tone
was that of a trusted friend of many years' standing.
"Confide!" repeated Patricia in a matter-of-fact tone. "Confide what,
Mrs. Bonsor?"
"Your engagement to Lord Peter Bowen. Such a surprise. You're a very
lucky girl. I hope you'll bring Lord Peter to call."
Patricia listened mechanically to Mrs. Bonsor's inanities. Suddenly
she realised their import. What had happened? How did she know? Had
Mr. Triggs told her?
"How did you know?" Patricia enquired.
"Haven't you seen _The Morning Post_?" enquired Mrs. Bonsor.
"_The Morning Post_!" repeated Patricia, in consternation; "but--but I
don't understand."
"Then isn't it true?" enquired Mrs. Bonsor, scenting a mystery.
"I--I----" began Patricia, then with inspiration added, "I must be
getting on, I've got a lot to do to make up for yesterday."
"But isn't it true, Miss Brent?" persisted Mrs. Bonsor.
Then from half-way up the stairs Patricia turned and, in a spurt of
mischief, cried, "If you see it in _The Morning Post_ it is so, Mrs.
Bonsor."
When Patricia entered the library Mr. Bonsor was fussing about with
letters and papers, a habit he had when nervous.
"I'm so sorry about yesterday afternoon, Mr. Bonsor," said Patricia;
"but Mrs. Bonsor seemed to wish me to----"
"Not at all, not at all, Miss Brent," said Mr. Bonsor nervously.
"I--I----" then he paused.
"I know what you're going to say, Mr. Bonsor, but please don't say it."
Mr. Bonsor looked at her in surprise. "Not say it?" he said.
"Oh! everybody's congratulating me, and I'm tired. Shall we get on
with the letters?"
Mr. Bonsor was disappointed. He had prepared a dainty little speech of
congratulation, which he had intended to deliver as Patricia entered
the room. Mr. Bonsor was always preparing speeches which he never
delivered. There was not an important matter that had been before the
House since he had represented Little Dollington upon which he had not
prepared a speech. He had criticised every member of the Government
and Opposition. He had prepared party speeches and anti-party
speeches, patriotic speeches and speeches of protest. He had called
upon the House of Commons to save the country, and upon the country to
save the House of Commons. He had woven speeches of splendid optimism
and speeches of gloomy foreboding. He had attacked ministers and
defended ministers, seen himself attacked and had routed his enemies.
He had prepared speeches to be delivered to his servants for domestic
misdemeanour, speeches for Mr. Triggs, even for Mrs. Bonsor.
He had conceived speeches on pigs, speeches on potatoes, speeches on
oil-cake, and speeches on officers' wives; in short, there was nothing
in the world of his thoughts about which he had not prepared a speech.
The one thing he did not do was to deliver these speeches. They were
wonderful things of his imagination, which seemed to defy
crystallization into words. So it was with the speech of
congratulation that he had prepared for Patricia.
That morning Patricia was distraite. Her thoughts continued to wander
to _The Morning Post_ announcement, and she was anxious to get out to
lunch in order to purchase a copy and see what was actually said. Then
her thoughts ran on to who was responsible for such an outrage; for
Patricia regarded it as an outrage. It was obviously Bowen who had
done it in order to make her position still more ridiculous. It was
mean, she was not sure that it was not contemptible.
Patricia was in the act of transcribing some particulars about infant
mortality in England and Wales compared with that of Scotland, when the
parlourmaid entered with a note. Mr. Bonsor stretched out his hand for
it.
"It is for Miss Brent, sir," said the maid.
Patricia looked up in surprise. It was unusual for her to receive a
note at the Bonsors'. She opened the envelope mechanically and read:--
"DEAREST,
"I have just seen _The Morning Post_. It is sweet of you to relent.
You have made me very happy. Will you dine with me to-night and when
may I take you to Grosvenor Square? My mother will want to see her new
daughter-in-law.
"I so enjoyed last night. Surely the gods are on my side.
"PETER."
Patricia read and re-read the note. For a moment she felt ridiculously
happy, then, with a swift change of mood she saw the humiliation of her
situation. Bowen thought it was she who had inserted the notice of the
engagement. What must he think of her? It looked as if she had done
it to burn his boats behind him. Then suddenly she seized a pen and
wrote:--
"DEAR LORD PETER,
"I know nothing whatever about the announcement in _The Morning Post_,
and I only heard of it when I arrived here. I cannot dine with you
to-night, and I am very angry and upset that anyone should have had the
impertinence to interfere in my affairs. I shall take up the matter
with _The Morning Post_ people and insist on a contradiction
immediately.
"Yours sincerely,
"PATRICIA BRENT."
With quick, decisive movements Patricia folded the note, addressed the
envelope and handed it to the maid, then she turned to Mr. Bonsor.
"I am sorry to interrupt work, Mr. Bonsor; but that was rather an
important note that I had to answer."
Mr. Bonsor smiled sympathetically.
At lunch-time Patricia purchased a copy of _The Morning Post_, and
there saw in all its unblushing mendacity the announcement.
"A marriage has been arranged and will shortly take place between Lord
Peter Bowen, D.S.O., M.C., attached to the General Staff, son of the
7th Marquess of Meyfield, and Patricia Brent, daughter of the late John
Brent, of Little Milstead."
"Why on earth must the ridiculous people put it at the top of the
column?" she muttered aloud. A man occupying an adjoining table at the
place where she was lunching turned and looked at her.
"And now I must go back to potatoes, pigs, and babies," said Patricia
to herself as she paid her bill and rose. "Ugh!"
She had scarcely settled down to her afternoon's work when the maid
entered and announced, "Lord Peter Bowen to see you, miss."
"Oh bother!" exclaimed Patricia. "Tell him I'm busy, will you please?"
The maid's jaw dropped; she was excellently trained, but no
maid-servant could be expected to rise superior to such an
extraordinary attitude on the part of a newly-engaged girl. Nothing
short of a butler who had lived in the best families could have risen
to such an occasion.
"But, Miss Brent----" began Mr. Bonsor.
Patricia turned and froze him with a look.
"Will you give him my message, please, Fellers?" she said, and Fellers
walked out a disillusioned young woman.
Two minutes later Mrs. Bonsor entered the room, flushed and excited.
"Oh, Miss Brent, that silly girl has muddled up things somehow! Lord
Peter Bowen is waiting for you in the morning-room. I have just been
talking to him and saying that I hope you will both dine with us one
day next week."
"The message was quite correct, Mrs. Bonsor. I am very busy with pigs,
and babies, and potatoes. I really cannot add Lord Peter to my
responsibilities at the moment."
Mrs. Bonsor looked at Patricia as if she had suddenly gone mad.
"But Miss Brent-----" began Mrs. Bonsor, scandalised.
"I suppose I shall have to see him," said Patricia, rising with the air
of one who has to perform an unpleasant task. "I wish he'd stay at the
War Office and leave me to do my work. I suppose I shall have to write
to Lord Derby about it."
Mrs. Bonsor glanced at Mr. Bonsor, who, however, was busily engaged in
preparing an appropriate speech upon War Office methods, suggested by
Patricia's remark about Lord Derby.
As Patricia entered the morning-room, Bowen came forward.
"Oh, Patricia! why will you persist in being a cold douche? Why this
morning I absolutely scandalised Peel by singing at the top of my voice
whilst in my bath, and now. Look at me now!"
Patricia looked at him, then she was forced to laugh. He presented
such a woebegone appearance.
"But what on earth have I to do with your singing in your bath?" she
enquired.
"It was _The Morning Post_ paragraph. I thought everything was going
to be all right after last night, and now I'm a door-mat again."
"Who inserted that paragraph?" enquired Patricia.
"I rang up _The Morning Post_ office and they told me that it was
handed in by Miss Brent, who is staying at the Mayfair Hotel."
"Aunt Adelaide!" There was a depth of meaning in Patricia's tone as
she uttered the two words, then turning to Bowen she enquired, "Did you
tell them to contradict it?"
"They asked me whether it were correct," he said, refusing to meet
Patricia's eyes.
"What did you say?"
"I said it was." He looked at her quizzically, like a boy who is
expecting a severe scolding. Patricia had to bite her lips to prevent
herself from laughing.
"You told _The Morning Post_ people that it was correct when you knew
that it was wrong?"
Bowen hung his head. "But it isn't wrong," he muttered.
"You know very well that it is wrong and that I am not engaged to you,
and that no marriage has been arranged or ever will be arranged. Now I
shall have to write to the editor and insist upon the statement being
contradicted."
"Good Lord! Don't do that, Patricia," broke in Bowen. "They'll think
we've all gone mad."
"And for once a newspaper editor will be right," was Patricia's comment.
"And will you dine to-night, Pat?"
Patricia looked up. This was the first time Bowen had used the
diminutive of her name. Somehow it sounded very intimate.
"I am afraid I have an--an----"
The hesitation was her undoing.
"No; don't tell me fibs, please. You will dine with me and then,
afterwards, we will go on and see the mater. She is dying to know you."
How boyish and lover-like Bowen was in spite of his twenty-eight years,
and--and--how different everything might have been if---- Patricia was
awakened from her thoughts by hearing Bowen say:
"Shall I pick you up here in the car?"
"No, I--I've just told you I am engaged," she said.
"And I've just told you that I won't allow you to be engaged to anyone
but me," was Bowen's answer. "If you won't come and dine with me I'll
come and play my hooter outside Galvin House until they send you out to
get rid of me. You know, Patricia, I'm an awful fellow when I've set
my mind on anything, and I'm simply determined to marry you whether you
like it or not."
"Very well, I will dine with you to-night at half-past seven."
"I'll pick you up at Galvin House at a quarter-past seven with the car."
"Very well," said Patricia wearily. It seemed ridiculous to try and
fight against her fate, and at the back of her mind she had a plan of
action, which she meant to put into operation.
"Now I must get back to my work. Good-bye."
Bowen opened the door of the morning-room. Mrs. Bonsor was in the
hall. Patricia walked over to the library, leaving Bowen in Mrs.
Bonsor's clutches.
"Oh, Lord Peter!" Mrs. Bonsor gushed. "I hope you and Miss Brent will
dine with us----"
Patricia shut the library door without waiting to hear Bowen's reply.
At five o'clock she gave up the unequal struggle with infant mortality
statistics and walked listlessly across the Park to Galvin House. She
was tired and dispirited. It was the weather, she told herself, London
in June could be very trying, then there had been all that fuss over
_The Morning Post_ announcement. At Galvin House she knew the same
ordeal was awaiting her that she had passed through at Eaton Square.
Mrs. Craske-Morton would be effusive, Miss Wangle would unbend, Miss
Sikkum would simper, Mr. Bolton would be facetious, and all the others
would be exactly what they had been all their lives, only a little more
so as a result of _The Morning Post_ paragraph.
Only the fact of Miss Wangle taking breakfast in bed had saved Patricia
from the ordeal at breakfast. Miss Wangle was the only resident at
Galvin House who regularly took _The Morning Post_, it being "the dear
bishop's favourite paper."
Arrived at Galvin House Patricia went straight to her room. Dashing
past Gustave, who greeted her with "Oh, mees!" struggling at the same
time to extract from his pocket a newspaper. Patricia felt that she
should scream. Had everyone in Galvin House bought a copy of that
day's _Morning Post_, and would they all bring it out of their pockets
and point out the passage to her? She sighed wearily.
Suddenly she jumped up from the bed where she had thrown herself,
seized her writing-case and proceeded to write feverishly. At the end
of half an hour she read and addressed three letters, stamping two of
them. The first was to the editor of _The Morning Post_, and ran:--
"DEAR SIR,
"In your issue of to-day's date you make an announcement regarding a
marriage having been arranged between Lord Peter Bowen and myself,
which is entirely inaccurate.
"I am given to understand that this announcement was inserted on the
authority of my aunt, Miss Adelaide Brent, and I must leave you to take
what action you choose in relation to her. As for myself, I will ask
you to be so kind as to insert a contradiction of the statement in your
next issue.
"I am,
"Yours faithfully,
"PATRICIA BRENT."
Patricia always prided herself on the business-like quality of her
letters.
The second letter was to Miss Brent. It ran:--
"DEAR AUNT ADELAIDE,
"I have written to the editor of _The Morning Post_ informing him that
he must take such action as he sees fit against you for inserting your
unauthorised statement that a marriage has been arranged between Lord
Peter Bowen and me. It may interest you to know that the engagement
has been broken off as a result of your impulsive and ill-advised
action. Personally I think you have rather presumed on being my 'sole
surviving relative.'
"Your affectionate niece,
"PATRICIA."
The third letter was to Bowen.
"DEAR LORD PETER,
"I have written to the editor of _The Morning Post_, asking him to
contradict the inaccurate statement published in to-day's issue. I am
consumed with humiliation that such a thing should have been sent to
him by a relative of mine, more particularly by a 'sole surviving
relative.' My aunt unfortunately epitomises in her personality all the
least desirable characteristics to be found in relatives.
"I cannot tell you how sorry I am about--oh, everything! If you really
want to save me from feeling thoroughly ashamed of myself you will not
only forget me, but also a certain incident.
"You have done me a great honour, I know, and you will add to it a
great service if you will do as I ask and forget all about a folly that
I have had cause bitterly to regret.
"Please forgive me for not dining with you to-night and for breaking my
word; but I am feeling very unwell and tired and I have gone to bed.
"Yours sincerely,
"PATRICIA BRENT."
Patricia's plan was to post the letters to Aunt Adelaide and _The
Morning Post_, and leave the other with Gustave to be given to Bowen
when he called, she would then shut herself in her room and plead a
headache as an excuse for not being disturbed. Thus she would escape
Miss Wangle and her waves of interrogation.
As Patricia descended the stairs, Gustave was in the act of throwing
open the door to Lady Tanagra. It was too late to retreat.
"Ah! there you are," exclaimed Lady Tanagra as she passed the
respectful Gustave in the hall.
Patricia descended the remaining stairs slowly and with dragging steps.
Lady Tanagra looked at her sharply.
"Aren't we a nuisance?" cried she. "There's nothing more persistent in
nature than a Bowen. Bruce's spider is quite a parochial affair in
comparison," and she laughed lightly.
Patricia smiled as she welcomed Lady Tanagra. For a moment she
hesitated at the door of the lounge, then with a sudden movement she
turned towards the stairs.
"Come up to my room," she said, "we can talk there."
There was no cordiality in her voice. Lady Tanagra noticed that she
looked worn-out and ill. Once the bedroom door was closed she turned
to Patricia.
"My poor Patricia! whatever is the matter? You look thoroughly done
up. Now lie down on the bed like a good girl, and I will assume my
best bedside manner."
Patricia shook her head wearily, and indicating a chair by the window,
seated herself upon the bed.
"I'm afraid I am rather tired," she said. "I was just going to lock
myself up for the night."
"Now I'm going to cheer you up," cried Lady Tanagra. "Was there ever a
more tactless way of beginning, but I've got something to tell you that
is so exquisitely funny that it would cheer up an oyster, or even a
radical."
"First," said Patricia, "I think I should like you to read these
letters." Slowly and wearily she ripped open the three letters and
handed them to Lady Tanagra, who read them through slowly and
deliberately. This done, she folded each carefully, returned it to its
envelope and handed them to Patricia.
"Well!" said Patricia.
Lady Tanagra smiled. Reaching across to the dressing-table she took a
cigarette from Patricia's box and proceeded to light it. Patricia
watched her curiously.
"I think you must have been meant for a man, Tanagra," she said after a
pause. "You have the gift of silence, and nothing is more provoking to
a woman."
"What do you want me to say?" enquired Lady Tanagra. "I like these
cigarettes," she added.
"If you are not careful, you'll make me scream in a minute," said
Patricia, with a smile. "I showed you those letters and now you don't
even so much as say 'thank you.'"
"Thank you very much indeed, Patricia," said Lady Tanagra meekly.
"You don't approve of them?" There was undisguised challenge in
Patricia's voice.
"I think the one to Miss Brent is admirable, specially if you will add
a postscript after what I tell you."
"But the other two," persisted Patricia.
"I do not think I am qualified to express an opinion, am I?" said Lady
Tanagra calmly.
"Why not?"
"Well, you see, I am an interested party."
"You!" cried Patricia, then with a sudden change, "Oh, if you are not
careful I shall come over and shake you!"
"I think that would be very good for both of us," was Lady Tanagra's
reply.
"Tell me what you mean," persisted Patricia.
"Well, in the first place, the one to the editor of _The Morning Post_
will make poor Peter ridiculous, and the other will hurt his feelings,
and as I am very fond of Peter you cannot expect me to be enthusiastic
with either of them, can you?"
Lady Tanagra rose and going over to Patricia put her arm round her and
kissed her on the cheek, then Patricia did a very foolish thing.
Without a word of warning she threw her arms around Lady Tanagra's neck
and burst into tears.
"Oh, I'm so wretched, Tanagra! I know I'm a beast and I want to hurt
everybody and every thing. I think I should like to hurt you even,"
she cried, her mood of crying passing as quickly as it had come.
"Don't you think we had better just talk the thing out? Now since you
have asked my view," continued Lady Tanagra, "I will give it. Your
letter to _The Morning Post_ people will make poor Peter the
laughing-stock of London. He has many enemies among ambitious mamas.
Never have I known him to be attracted towards a girl until you came
along. He's really paying you a very great compliment."
Patricia sniffed ominously.
"Then the letter to Peter would hurt him because--you must forgive
me--it is rather brutal, isn't it?"
Patricia nodded her head vigorously.
"Well," continued Lady Tanagra, "what do you say if we destroy them
both?"
"But--but--that would leave _The Morning Post_ announcement and
P-Peter----"
"Don't you think they might both be left, just for the moment? Later
you can wipe the floor with them."
"But--but--you don't understand, Tanagra," began Patricia.
"Don't you think that half the troubles of the world are due to people
wanting to understand?" said Lady Tanagra calmly. "I never want to
understand. There are certain things I know and these are sufficient
for me. In this case I know that I have a very good brother and he
wants to marry a very good girl; but for some reason she won't have
anything to do either with him or with me." She looked up into
Patricia's face with a smile so wholly disarming that Patricia was
forced to laugh.
"If you knew Patricia's opinion of herself," she said to Lady Tanagra,
"you would be almost shocked."
"Well, now, will you do something just to please me?" insinuated Lady
Tanagra. "You see this big brother of mine has always been more or
less my adopted child, and you have it in your power to hurt him more
than I want to see him hurt." There was an unusually serious note in
Lady Tanagra's voice. "Why not let things go on as they are for the
present, then later the engagement can be broken off if you wish it.
I'll speak to Peter and see that he is not tiresome."
"Oh, but he's never been that!" protested Patricia, then she stopped
suddenly in confusion.
Lady Tanagra smiled to herself.
"Well, if he's never been tiresome I'm sure you wouldn't like to hurt
him, would you?" She was speaking as if to a child.
"The only person I want to hurt is Aunt Adelaide," said Patricia with a
laugh.
Lady Tanagra noticed with pleasure that the mood seemed to be dropping
from her.
"Well, may I be the physician for to-day?" continued Lady Tanagra.
Patricia nodded her head.
"Very well, then, I prescribe a dinner this evening with one Tanagra
Bowen, Peter Bowen and Godfrey Elton, on the principle of 'Eat thou and
drink, to-morrow thou shalt die.'"
"Who is Godfrey Elton?" asked Patricia with interest.
"My dear Patricia, if I were to start endeavouring to describe Godfrey
we should be at it for hours. You can't describe Godfrey, you can only
absorb him. He is a sort of wise youth rapidly approaching childhood."
"What on earth do you mean?" cried Patricia, laughing.
"You will discover for yourself later. We are all dining at the
Quadrant to-night at eight."
"Dining at the Quadrant?" repeated Patricia in amazement.
"Yes, and I have to get home to dress and you have to dress and I will
pick you up in a taxi at a quarter to eight."
"But--but--Peter--your brother said that he was coming----"
"Peter has greater faith in his sister than in himself, he therefore
took me into his confidence and I am his emissary."
"Oh, you Bowens, you Bowens!" moaned Patricia in mock despair.
"There is no avoiding us, I confess," said Lady Tanagra gaily. "Now I
must tell you about your charming aunt. She called upon mother
yesterday."
"What!" gasped Patricia.
"She called at Grosvenor Square and announced to poor, un-understanding
mother that she thought the families ought to know one another. But
she got rather badly shocked by Godfrey and one of the soldier boys,
whom we call 'Uncle,' and left with the firm conviction that our circle
is a pernicious one."
"It's--it's--perfectly scandalous!" cried Patricia.
"No, it's not as bad as that," said Lady Tanagra calmly.
"What?" began Patricia. "Oh! I mean Aunt Adelaide's conduct, it's
humiliating, it's----"
"Wait until you hear," said Lady Tanagra with a smile. "When Peter ran
in to see mother, she said that she had had a call from a Miss Brent
and could he place her. So poor old Peter blurts out that he's going
to marry Miss Brent. Poor mother nearly had a fit on the spot. She
was too tactful to express her disapproval; but she showed it in her
amazement. The result was that Peter was deeply hurt and left the room
and the house. I am the only one who saw the exquisite humour of the
joke. My poor darling mother had the impression that Peter has gone
clean off his head and wanted to marry your most excellent Aunt
Adelaide," and Lady Tanagra laughed gaily.
For a moment Patricia gazed at her blankly, then as she visualised Aunt
Adelaide and Bowen side by side at the altar she laughed hysterically.
"I kept mother in suspense for quite a long time. Then I told her, and
I also rang up Peter and told him. And now I must fly," cried Lady
Tanagra. "I will be here at a quarter to eight, and if you are not
ready I shall be angry; but if you have locked yourself in your room I
shall batter down the door. We are going to have a very happy evening
and you will enjoy yourself immensely. I think it quite likely that
Godfrey will fall in love with you as well as Peter, which will still
further increase your embarrassments." Then with a sudden change of
mood she said, "Please cheer up, Patricia, happiness is not a thing to
be taken lightly. You have been a little overwrought of late, and now,
good-bye."
"One moment, please," said Patricia. "Don't you understand that
nothing can possibly be built up on such a foundation as--as----?"
"Your picking up Peter in the Grill-room of the Quadrant," said Lady
Tanagra calmly.
Patricia gasped. "Oh!" she cried.
"Let's call things by their right names," said Lady Tanagra. "At the
present moment you're putting up rather a big fight against your own
inclination, and you are causing yourself a lot of unnecessary
unhappiness. Is it worth it?" she asked.
"One's self-respect is always worth any sacrifice," said Patricia.
"Except when you are in love, and then you take pride in trampling it
under foot."
With this oracular utterance Lady Tanagra departed with a bright nod, a
smile and an insistence that Patricia should not come downstairs.