Cornelia was surprised to find that her friends were not already housed
at the Ritz, but had been staying at a private hotel, in a dull side
street, where the cab called on the way from the station, to take up a
pile of luggage lying ready packed in the hall.
"The fashionable hotels are all crowded out in the season," Mrs Moffatt
explained. "We've had our names down for ages at the Ritz, but it was
impossible to get in before to-day. I don't know as we should have
managed even now, if it hadn't been for you, dear. It worked wonders
when we said you would be one of the party. You don't mind having your
name mentioned, do you? You've just got to play up to these managers,
if you don't want to be put off for ever, or poked away in a back room."
"Oh, I don't mind," said Cornelia, easily. "If my name is of any use,
use it for all you're worth. I shouldn't have supposed anyone would
know it over here. They don't in Norton."
"My dear, the hotel is crammed full of Americans, and any one of them
would say it was poor business to refuse the daughter of Edward B
Briskett. The connection might be worth a heap, if you went home and
allowed you were satisfied. Silas don't count for anything--he's no
push! We might have waited for ever if it had been left to him!"
To judge by the hangdog expression of the said Silas as he came forward
to greet his guest at the door of the Ritz, the success attending his
wife's manoeuvres had not inspired him with any particular joy.
Cornelia thought he looked more henpecked than ever, but he received her
warmly, and hovered round to assist with the smaller impedimenta, while
his wife hurried forward into the hotel. Inside all was brightness and
gaiety; little parties of visitors grouped here and there about the
large, light hall; obsequious clerks bowing before one, hoping that the
rooms reserved might give satisfaction; begging to be informed if any
comfort were lacking; summoning waiters to show the way to the lift.
Cornelia was annoyed to notice that most of these attentions were
directed towards herself, but as Mrs Moffatt did not appear to take
umbrage, it seemed wisest to make no protest. The mistake was not
likely to occur again, for with so many guests in the house, individual
attention could not extend beyond the arrival civilities.
Tea was served in the Empire suite, which had been reserved for the
party, and Cornelia hated herself for feeling so little in sympathy with
a host and hostess whose one anxiety seemed to be to provide for her
enjoyment. From a printed list of amusements, she was bidden to make
her choice for every evening in the week; for the afternoons, river-
picnics were suggested, coaching expeditions to outlying scenes of
interest, drives in the Park. For the mornings--well, naturally, there
was just one thing to be done in the morning, and that was shopping!
"I hope you've brought up heaps of money, my dear. You'll need it. The
things are just heavenly this season!" Mrs Moffatt declared, but
Cornelia remained unfired.
"I've a circular note; it's all right so far as that goes, but I shan't
want any more clothes for ages! I brought over a whole trousseau, and
so far as I can see, the half will go back unpacked. They don't dress
down at Norton--they _clothe_! You've got to be covered right up to the
chin, and to work in all the blue serge you can, and that's about all
there is to it. If you fixed-up like we do at home, you'd make as much
stir as the fire-engine. I'd like to mail a few presents, if I saw
anything really new and snappy, but I shan't go near a store for
myself."
"I shall, then!" cried Mrs Moffatt, laughing. "I got next to nothing
in Paris. The shops over there aren't a patch on London, in my opinion,
and the language puts one off. I can't get the hang of it, and it gets
on my nerves fitting on clothes, and not being able to find fault.
You'll have to come round with me, Cornelia. I've been waiting till you
came, to decide on heaps of things. You've got such lovely taste.
Silas wants to give me some furs, and I've seen an emerald necklace that
I'm bound to have if I'm to know another happy moment. I've been in
twice to see it, and I guess the man's beginning to weaken. It would
pay him to let me have it at a reduction, rather than keep it lying
idle. You shall come with me, and say what you think it's worth; but
mind, I'm to have the first chance! You mustn't try to snap it up. A
few hundred dollars don't matter to you one way or the other, but I've
got to worry round to make the money go as far as it will. It's not
that Silas wants to stint me; he's not that sort, but he hasn't the
balance behind him your father has!"
Silas smiled in sickly acknowledgment of his wife's consideration,
fidgeted in his seat, and finally took himself downstairs, to see about
securing theatre tickets, whereupon his wife heaved a sigh of relief,
and helped herself to a fresh cup of tea.
"Thank goodness! I ken't stand men in the daytime. They don't take any
interest in clothes or parcels, or trying-on, but kinder hang round,
looking bored and superior! It gets on my nerves. ... That was a real
smart-looking man you had with you to-day, dear. Guest? did you say--
Captain Guest? English, isn't he? Acts as though he'd got the patent,
and everybody else was imitation. I rather like it myself, I don't
think anything of a man who takes a back seat." The short, impatient
little sigh was evidently dedicated to the memory of the absent Silas.
... "Where did you pick him up, dear? He seems very devoted. Anything
coming on between you?"
Cornelia's "No!" made the listener start in her seat, so loud was it, so
stern, so eloquent of displeasure. She herself was astonished at the
white heat of anger which possessed her as she listened to Mrs
Moffatt's questionings. "Picked him up," indeed! What insolence; what
vulgarity! What an indignity to speak of him in such words. Her
indignation seemed almost as much on Guest's account as her own. A
vision of his face rose before her, she seemed to see the curl of the
lip, the droop of the eyelid with which he would have greeted such an
expression.
"No! Suttenly not! He is the merest acquaintance. There is not even
an ordinary friendship between us. I may very probably never meet him
again."
"Is that so?" queried Mrs Moffatt, calmly. As the Captain had himself
announced his intention of calling at the hotel, the only effect of
Cornelia's violence was to deepen the impression that there was
"something in it," but she was too diplomatic to pursue the subject.
Instead, she prattled on about a dozen inconsequent topics, and finally
suggested a drive in the Park before dinner.
"It will freshen you up after your journey, and there's nothing else to
do for the next two hours. Just ring, will you, dear, and make
arrangements, while I write a few notes in my room. A victoria, or a
motor, whichever you prefer, and in about half-an-hour. That will give
us time to prink." She rustled out of the room, and Cornelia rang and
gave the order, only too thankful to avoid a prolonged _tete-a-tete_
indoors. Once again she wondered how it had come to pass that she had
become on intimate terms with this woman, who now jarred upon her at
every turn. On board the steamer her own friends had scarcely left
their state-rooms during the voyage, and Mrs Moffatt, in a neat tweed
costume, and an enveloping blue veil, had played the part of ministering
angel with much devotion, during three dreary days, when she herself had
lain on a chair in a sheltered corner of the deck; had read aloud,
repeated amusing little anecdotes about the passengers, taken her for
constitutionals up and down, and even helped her to bed at night. When
Liverpool was reached, it seemed as if they had known one another for
years. They had kissed at parting, and mutually agreed to meet, and
have a good time.
"Shucks!" cried Cornelia, mentally. "It's that old Norton! I've gotten
so used to dowds, that the sight of a Paris gown scares me all into
fits. I've looked forward to coming to London all my life, and now I'm
here, I'm going to enjoy myself all I know. Now then, for the Park! I
guess that grey crepe, and the hat with the white feathers, will be
about the best I can do for the honour of the flag. You've got to
strike a balance, my dear, and plump for neutral colours as long as you
run in harness with Mrs Silas P Moffatt!"
That first drive in Hyde Park was a pleasant experience, though the
trees looked grey and dusty, after the fresh green of the country.
Cornelia, like most of her sisters, had, as a first object, to see the
people, not the Park itself, and certainly they were worth the seeing.
There is no place in the world where finer specimens of humanity can be
seen than in Hyde Park on the afternoon of a bright June day. Cornelia
admired the tall, immaculately-groomed men, the dainty, high-bred
looking women, with their air of indolent grace. They did not look as
if they were enjoying themselves particularly, but she enjoyed, looking
at them, and honestly acknowledged the presence of a certain quality
unowned by herself. "They've got a far-off look, as if they couldn't
see anything nearer than a hundred miles, and were scared to laugh, in
case they might break! ... I guess it's what they call `_breed_!'
Captain Guest's got it, too. We've not much use for that kind of thing
at home, but it--counts! If you'd been used to it all your life, it
would be a jar to step down..."
Mrs Moffatt knew a great many people by sight, and pointed them out as
they drove by. Lady this, the Countess of that, Mrs Blank, who wrote
society novels, and was noted for her taste in dress, the beautiful Miss
Dash.--"Not that I can see much beauty in her myself. She's not a patch
on you, when you're in form!" Cornelia felt a girl's natural pleasure
in the compliment, in the truth of which she complacently agreed. She
did not envy Miss Dash her looks, but she did emphatically envy her her
friends, particularly her male friends, who clustered around her
carriage, eager for a word. One felt decidedly out of it, driving
through a crowd of strangers, not one of whom turned a welcoming smile
in your direction, nor cared whether you came or went. At home,
Cornelia was accustomed to be in the midst of all that was going on, a
central figure, round which all the rest revolved. She did not at all
appreciate being relegated to the position of regarding the fray from
the vantage of a hired vehicle!
Cornelia craned her head to right and to left, scanning the passing
crowd for a familiar face. It seemed impossible that among hundreds of
people there should not be someone whom she recognised, and her faith
was justified, for just at the bend near the Marble Arch, she had a
passing glimpse of Guest's tall figure, standing talking to two ladies,
one middle-aged, the other young, and graceful, and smiling. They were
quietly, even simply, attired, but their whole air and carriage breathed
that indefinable something which she had just struggled to define:
something diametrically different from the ostentatious display of the
woman by her side. Theoretically, Cornelia was thankful to escape
observation; in reality she felt an absurd pang of loneliness and
disappointment, as the carriage bore her out of sight.
The evening was spent at a theatre, and by eleven o'clock next morning
both ladies had started forth on one of the shopping expeditions, which
seemed to constitute Mrs Moffatt's chief pleasure in life. They drove
first of all to the jeweller's, where Cornelia was shown the emerald
necklace, a wonderful collection of stones, in an antique setting, with
which she herself promptly fell in love. The price was excessive, even
for her own deep purse, and she concluded that Mr Moffatt's means must
be even larger than she had imagined, since his wife seriously
contemplated such a purchase. There was a good deal of bargaining,
half-serious, half-joking, between Mrs Moffatt and the very imposing-
looking personage behind the counter, but fortified by the advent of
another possible purchaser, the latter steadily refused to reduce his
price, and once again Mrs Moffatt retired discomfited from the
struggle.
"I know just how it will be," she cried, "I'll have to give it up, and
then you'll step in, and carry it off before my eyes! But you've got to
wait a bit, till I see what I can do with Silas. I'm not going to give
up yet awhile."
Cornelia laughed easily. "Oh, I'll play fair. If you give up the idea,
I daresay Poppar'd let me have it. He says emeralds suit me better than
any other stones; but I shan't break my heart, one way or the other."
... Then addressing the shopman: "Have you got anything really new and
tasty for little presents? I might as well look round while I'm here."
Then followed a delightful hour, from the shopkeeper's point of view, at
least, when Cornelia examined the contents of tray after tray, and
selected "little presents" to the value of a cool hundred pounds: an old
pearl and enamel solitaire stud for her father; a hat-pin composed of a
big turquoise, and a selection of dainty, jewelled brooches and bangles
for special girl friends.
"I'll give you the addresses, and you'd better mail them from here. I
don't know how you fix up things to travel safely from this side, but
you can do all that's necessary. I'll give you a cheque and you needn't
send them out till you see that it's all right. I'm a stranger to you,
and can't expect you to trust me right away, but you'll find the money's
there!"
"Well, I should think your name's good enough! No one need fear
trusting your father's daughter for a few hundred dollars!" Mrs
Moffatt protested, while the shopman waxed eloquent in protestation.
Cornelia continued to write addresses on the various boxes, without
troubling to answer, for the assiduous manner in which her friend
advertised her parentage was already beginning to jar. First to the
hotel officials; then to casual acquaintances during the evening, and
now to this tradesman! It was a disagreeable change from Norton, where
the subject of money was never mentioned, and no one seemed to care
whether you were rich or poor.
The whole morning was devoted to shopping; in the afternoon the two
ladies went out driving, and returned to the hotel, to find Captain
Guest's card on the sitting-room table.
"He has lost no time, anyhow!" said Mrs Moffatt, meaningly.
"He has done the polite thing. Now he need not trouble any more,"
Cornelia replied. On the whole, she was not sorry to have missed the
call. Conversation, with Mrs Moffatt as audience, would have been
somewhat of a strain!