It was only twenty-five to eight when Rayner opened the door to
Lavinia.
"You are early, Madam," he said as he took her cloak, "I don't think
anyone is down yet."
"I know I am; I wondered if there was a chance of seeing Grannie
before the others arrived. Do you suppose she will be down soon?"
"I don't know at all, but I can send Mary up to tell her you are
here."
"Yes do, Rayner; go and tell her now, I'll go up to the drawing-room."
On the upper landing Lavinia stopped to look at her reflection, tiny
and faintly distorted, in a small convex mirror that had delighted
her as a child.
She was wearing for the first time, in deference to her Mother's
wishes, a yellow velvet frock, quite plain, very full skirted, and,
in the fashion of the moment, short in front but dipping almost to
the ground behind.
Suddenly she took her wide skirt in either hand, and curtsied very
low to her own image. The mirror was flooded with the yellow of her
frock, but as she rose and straightened herself the small grotesque
reflection was re-established.
The drawing-room was in darkness except for the leaping firelight but
she switched on the small lamp beside the fire, and sat down thinking
dreamily how pretty it would be if a group of ladies in long
old-fashioned frocks were to assemble there that night.
We would have to kiss Grannie's hand and Mother's too I suppose, and
Helen and Jessica and I would curtsey very low to each other and say
"Sister," and "Your servant, Sister." And there would be so much
swaying and rustling of silks that it would seem like sixty Mrs.
Greenes instead of six.
She sighed as she looked forward to the evening ahead.
Really it will be quite ordinary, she decided; a little flutter of
excitement as each one comes in and then perfectly ordinary
conversation. Aunt Sarah rather prim, and Grannie very crisp, and
Aunt Dora pretty doleful, and Mother managing everything, and keeping
us all in our proper places.
She stood up, and leaning against the mantel-piece looked round the
shadowy room. Everything was orderly: the soft puce curtains hung in
beautifully symmetrical folds, a bowl of giant chrysanthemums stood
on a table, each petal tightly curled, the firelight shone on a vivid
Chinese vase standing on a little lacquer cabinet between the windows.
An air of stillness and expectation hung over the room.
It's a lovely setting, Lavinia decided suddenly. After all there may
be an atmosphere about this evening. Grannie is very old and Jessica
is very young, and nearly all the happiness and unhappiness that lies
in the years between them is bound up with the Greene family.
Perhaps that will make Grannie younger and Jessica older, so that
they will become alike and indistinguishable.
She shivered a little. I'm glad I'm out of it, she thought. This
family feeling frightens me. I should hate to feel myself becoming
akin to Aunt Dora.
Rayner came into the room, switching on the lights so that all the
details of colour and form suddenly sprang into being.
"Mrs. Greene will be down in a moment," he said.
"Thank you," said Lavinia absently. "Rayner, it's going to be very
odd to-night."
"I hope not, Madam, I'm sure."
"Yes, it's bound to be odd; I shall feel like the only human in a
company of poor ghosts."
_Arosa, December 1927.--Geneva, May 1928._