A LITTLE DINNER FOR THREE
The end of April found Mrs. De Wolfe and her protégée in London,
installed in a fine suite at the Hyde Park Hotel. The position suited
the old lady, as here she was surrounded by connections and friends.
There was her sister-in-law in Park Lane, her niece in Belgrave Square,
the Hillsides within a stone's throw, and the Millers in Pont Street.
She and her young companion were soon sought out, and overwhelmed with
invitations, and Nancy lived in a whirl of agreeable engagements.
First an early ride in the Park, then the morning shopping; luncheon
parties, receptions, dinners, and above all, dances! Spare moments
were devoted to "fittings," and hurried visits to girl friends.--These
various claims, literally devoured the long summer days.--Nancy
was very gay and happy in this new life, a conspicuous figure in
her immediate circle! admired in private, stared at in public, and
favoured with yet another gift besides beauty, and youth. Wherever
she went, she appeared to bring sunshine; and those who knew her,
revelled in her endowment. Among her chief partners and cavaliers
were, Sir Dudley Villars, Major Cathcart--now enjoying a nice soft
staff appointment--Toby Lamerton, Lord Lanark, and various others too
numerous to mention.
Soon after her arrival in London, Nancy had reported herself in Queen's
Gate, and waited upon her aunt,--unsupported by her good friend, Mrs.
De Wolfe. Mrs. Jenkins' little blue eyes opened to their widest extent,
when they beheld her niece, no longer a shrinking and humble satellite,
but a self-possessed, well-dressed, and independent damsel.
As her envious glance wandered over an elegant toilet, she realized
that this "bird of paradise" would be entirely out of place, in her
own ordinary "Hen Run." It was evident that the girl had a good maid,
and a good conceit of herself; she resolved to secure Nancy for a
visit,--which would include at least, two state dinners,--in order that
her own friends should have an opportunity of beholding a niece whose
success and striking appearance, would add to her own importance.
Mrs. Taylor and Miss Dolling happened to be both in attendance,--the
one as faded and sentimental, the other aggressive, and glum--as of
old. At the end of twenty minutes' conversation,--chiefly questions and
answers,--Miss Dolling rose, and said, "I'll just go and fetch the Pom,
I'm sure he'd love to see Nancy."
"And I'm sure he wouldn't recognize her _now_," said Mrs. Taylor, with
significance, and for once Mrs. Taylor happened to be right. The Pom
merely sniffed indifferently at Nancy's smart gown, and then rudely
retired into his comfortable padded basket.
"And how is the Coffee?" inquired Mrs. Jenkins, in a condescending
manner.
"Oh, doing well. One of my old friends has taken over the management;
and gold has been found on the estate."
"Gold? well I never!" ejaculated Miss Dolling. "Fancy owning a gold
mine!"
"It's a reef, I believe," explained Nancy, "and has been taken over by
a company."
"So you're _quite_ a millionaire," remarked her aunt, rather sourly.
"And what are your plans for the summer?"
"We are going down to Mrs. De Wolfe's place, Newenham Court--later on."
"Oh, so she _has_ a place; I always understood, that she lived in
hotels and steamers, and had no home?"
"She found it so lonely, living all by herself."
"Then why not have a companion?" demanded Mrs. Taylor, "goodness knows
they are cheap enough!"
"She has a companion now,--she has _me_," declared Nancy with a smile.
"Oh, _you_!" with an impatient sniff, "you won't last her long; young
women with money, are soon snapped up. You'll marry within six months."
"I assure you, I shall _not_."
"Ah, that is how girls always talk," broke in Miss Dolling, "I used to
say the very same things myself; you have yet to meet your fate," and
she heaved a heavy sigh, as with her head on one side, she dreamily
contemplated Nancy,--the daughter of her one, and only love!
Before the visitor took leave, she was invited, nay, almost commanded,
to come and stay at Queen's Gate. This invitation she firmly, but very
civilly declined. Mrs. De Wolfe could not possibly spare her.
"Well," said Mrs. Jenkins, looking alarmingly pink and angry, "I do
think your own aunt has a claim before _strangers_; I shall expect you
to give me at least a week."
But the niece of her own aunt proved to be adamant, and submitted a
long, and imposing list of her engagements. She, however, consented
to appear at a dinner-party,--the date of which Mrs. Jenkins, diary
in hand, fixed so far ahead, that excuse or evasion, was out of the
question.
One Sunday afternoon Nancy, and a party of friends, betook themselves
to the Park, chaperoned by Mrs. De Wolfe and Lord Hillside. The usual
rendezvous near Stanhope Gate, was crowded, and the promenade bordering
the grass, so thronged that progress was difficult. Nancy and Tony
Lamerton lagged somewhat in the rear of their companions, and during
a block in the seething mass, she descried a face she hadn't seen
for more than two years: the beaming visage of Teddy Dawson, wearing
a wide smile upon his half-open mouth. Oh, how funny he looked! His
coat sleeves and trousers, inches too short; an old-fashioned tall
hat crammed on the back of his head, otherwise the same blue-eyed old
Teddy. Nancy instantly extended a delicately gloved hand, but instead
of grasping it (as expected), he failed to recognize a friend in this
smart young lady, and became the colour of a boiled beetroot.
"There must be some mistake," he said to himself, "_he_ had no
acquaintance with this dazzling creature, who had so to speak, summoned
him to halt,"--but when Nancy smiled at his overpowering embarrassment,
and he looked into her eyes, he exclaimed, "Great Christmas, can it be
_Nancy_?"
"Why not?" she demanded. "Of course it's Nancy."
The pair were unaffectedly glad to meet, and exchanged very cordial
greetings.
"When did you arrive?" she asked. "Yesterday?"
"Now, how in the world did you guess?"
"By your wardrobe; Jessie will have to take you in hand."
"Oh, so you've heard!" he replied, with a conscious grin. "My coming
home was a bit sudden; but at the very last moment I got a passage in
the same boat, with Jess, and her mother. Where are you stopping?"
"At present, we are _both_ stopping the public thoroughfare,--but you
will find me at the Hyde Park Hotel. I've no end of things to hear, and
to say to you. Will you and Jessie come and dine to-morrow night at
eight?"
"I can't answer for Jess,--I believe she has no frocks yet, but I'll
come all right."
"Don't be late," and with a parting nod, she drifted on.
"I say! that's a rum-looking chap," said Tony. "Did you ever see such
boots?--like coal boxes, and what a hat! no gloves, hands the size of a
ham,--where on earth did you get hold of him?"
"In India, he was our nearest neighbour; I've known him since I was in
socks. He is one of the best; something quite extra! You mustn't judge
him by his clothes! If you had put in ten years on a coffee estate,
perhaps you wouldn't be so _very_ smart yourself!"
"Perhaps not! Well, I hope when Jessie has got her frocks, she will do
something for him, poor chap! His coat would be a find for the wardrobe
of our regimental theatre. Is _he_ a specimen of the men you met out in
India?"
"He is a specimen of a successful planter, a first-rate sportsman,
and a real friend. He was like a kind elder brother, when I was in
frightful trouble. Well!" in a totally different voice--"there are Mrs.
De Wolfe and Sir Dudley beckoning--I do hope, they have kept us chairs!"
"Mr. Edward Dawson," as announced in Mrs. De Wolfe's sitting-room,
arrived to dine, alone, bringing a long epistle from Jessie, who was
staying in West Kensington, with some of her mother's relatives. Teddy
had invested in a new black tie and a pair of shiny shoes, and looked
quite passable when presented to Mrs. De Wolfe,--who gave him a cordial
reception. She knew all about him,--and had even read his letters!
The two ladies, who were "going on" to a ball, were in full dress;
Nancy so transformed and lovely, that Teddie could scarcely take his
eyes from her. His surprise and bewilderment were such, that several
times, he entirely forgot what he was going to say, and blundered
about, with spoons and helpings, as if he had never dined in company
before! He and Nancy had much to discuss, and he spoke freely and
openly before the "old lady," as he mentally called her.
"I must confess, I wonder how you got round Finchie?" said Nancy.
"Oh, you mean about Jess? You see she was away up in Cashmere, and
the mice played about! She declares that Jessie's mad,--and that I'm
a savage and belong to the Stone Age; but Jessie stood up for me and
said, 'At any rate, he is a rock of sense.' Rather smart, eh?"
"Yes," agreed Mrs. De Wolfe.
"And then the General, that's my father," he explained to the old lady,
"has come forward nobly, and is going shares in the rent of Fairplains;
he and I, will be your tenants, Nance."
"Yes, and I shall go out and stay with Jessie and you, for such
ages,--that you'll be obliged to leave home!"
"And what about the gold?" inquired Mrs. De Wolfe.
"I believe it's paying hand over fist. Nancy, you will remember Nicky
always swore that there was gold in those old workings. I thought it a
fairy tale, but when some engineer chaps came sniffing round for reefs,
Nicky put them on, and went down with them himself. The gold was all
right, and he has stuffed several thousands a year, into your pocket.
Mind you don't forget _that_!"
"You may be sure I won't.--And so he is staying on at the Corner?"
Teddy nodded.
"Alone?" Her tone was significant.
"I don't think so! Perhaps you can guess the name of the new partner?
By the way," lowering his voice, as he noted that Mrs. De Wolfe was
absorbed in the menu, "what about that chap?" ... name indistinct, to
the sharp-eared chaperon. "Do you ever hear anything of him?"
"Never!" was the emphatic reply.
Mrs. De Wolfe waited to hear more, and continued to stare steadily at
the word "asparagus." "He pays in the money for you to the day; it is
lying in my name at Grindlays--about six hundred pounds."
The anxious matron felt immensely relieved; of course the money, had
to do with _coffee_. She laid down the card, and glanced over at
Nancy,--never had she seen her with so high a colour; and yet it was
not a warm evening, and the girl hadn't touched anything stronger
than barley water. Nancy, too, had violently assailed her with her
foot. Why? She was not aware that she had made a social blunder, or
_faux pas_; and how the girl chattered! Undoubtedly these tidings and
reminiscences, and "Plain tales from the hills," had excited her, and
made her rather odd and unlike herself!