Mame had received a sort of hint that one or two nice plums were in the
matrimonial basket.
For some weeks to come she had every opportunity of judging how nice
the plums in the basket really were. No matter where the ripe fruit
clustered, there to be seen was _la belle Américaine_. Not that,
strictly speaking, she took rank as “a looker.” Really and truly she
did not pretend to beauty. But she had a way with her. She had the
charm of one not afraid to be herself. And that as much as anything
was what people liked about her. She was not afraid to be herself. So
many of her more sophisticated compatriots were shy of giving nature a
chance.
Perhaps they hardly realised that what passes for aristocracy in
England is essentially barbarous; it counts freedom and frankness and
don’t-care-a-damness as second only to dollars. Mame had her share of
the first and was reputed to have more than her share of the second.
Thus, to the annoyance of a coterie among her countrywomen, who were
blessed with girls of their own, she was likely to cut rather more ice
than their privately tutored-and-governessed, trained-to-the-minute
offspring. She was such an Original, while they conformed to a type.
Where they were all prunes and prisms, little Miss Chicago was
forcible and unexpected.
By the time Miss Du Rance had been seen at the Embassy on the evening
of the Fourth of July and she had been seen again in the grounds of
Buckingham Palace on the afternoon of the Fifth, the coterie began “to
get the wind up.” Was it really a fact that dear Emily had invited Miss
Thingamy to Dunkeldie for the last week in August and the first week in
September? If so, it was almost a scandal. Polly Childwick certainly
thought so; likewise Marcella Creber Newsum. Moreover, they both agreed
that it would be doing dear, simple-hearted Emily an act of Christian
kindness to say so. And the more forcibly it was said the more kind and
the more Christian the act would be.
* * * * *
Dunkeldie hung in the balance. If Mame could bring off that it would be
a _coup_. Such was Lady Violet’s considered opinion and she knew every
blade of grass on the course.
Still, the remnant of the prehistoric Four Hundred, a sort of prætorian
Old Guard, was mustering every ounce that it possessed in the way of
“influence.” Dunkeldie would be a bit too much, when people like those
really nice Perkinses with a villa on the Lido and their eldest boy in
the Blues were still out in the cold. Dear Emily was so conservative in
some ways; and yet in others, like ordinary mortals, so apt to be taken
in.
It was that wicked Violet who was really to blame. She had an
atrocious and ill-bred habit of pulling legs. One never quite knew how
one stood with her. She seemed to have a down on certain people who
were considerably richer than herself; she was very unconventional;
and quite uncomfortably clever. Why she was running this Miss Du Rance
nobody knew; but the opinion was growing that at the back of the mind
of the freakish Violet was a desire to make Clanborough House look
foolish.
Somebody ought to warn dear Emily. It was a Christian duty. Besides,
if persons like Miss Du Rance were given the run of the garden what
was the use of trying to remain exclusive? With the whole world
topsy-turvy, people in the position of dear Emily could not be too
careful.
Lady Violet had shrewdly diagnosed the state of the case. The Colony
was arming itself, the Pilgrim Daughters were going out on the warpath.
They could not afford to let this dangerous little feline have things
all her own way. Even her dollars could not condone her. And the best
and latest information was unable to say where and what those dollars
were.
The Puss, it was clear, had nothing to give away. Let her bear in mind
that she still had to walk delicately. Many vigilant hands were simply
itching to cut her claws and to trim her fur. The odd thing was she did
not appear to amuse her compatriots at all; whereas the natives of the
island seemed to find her great fun. It was her dollars, of course. But
then those who hail from the land where dollars grow are apt to be so
much less charmed by them than the poor and rather mercenary British.
Mame continued “to get around.” The main reason, no doubt, was that her
work made it necessary. But soon a certain ambition took root in her.
According to the office calendar, There is a Tide. While she was about
it, she would be wise to neglect no opportunity of putting herself in
solid. Experience had taught her already that if you don’t take the
chances that offer, your luck has a nasty trick of back-firing. Yes, if
opportunity arose it would be well to be in solid.
Henley was fun. So was Ascot. So was Hurlingham. So was Lord’s. Perhaps
Henley was the best fun of all. Somehow, honest Thames water seemed to
take a bit of starch out of the folks. Then there were several jolly
dances; and other functions, rather more formal, but still in their way
pleasant.
Week by week Mame met the same crowd under slightly differing
conditions. And even her sponsor owned that it was wonderful how she
adjusted herself to circumstances. Under expert guidance she was now
developing a sure instinct of her own. It soon began to make a real
difference to her personality. Happily it didn’t take out the “pep.”
She was astonishingly quick at picking up ideas. And she was not
content merely to pick them up; she had a faculty for putting them
to new and entertaining uses. Lady Violet, for all her experience
of two continents, had never seen anyone like her. She was a unique
combination of demureness and daring. The things she said and the
way she said them were beyond the compass of ordinary mortals. If you
admired her dollars they went; if you didn’t admire her dollars these
gems of thought rather “got the bird.”
But dollars are fascinating things. In England a mere rumour of them
appears to have glamour. Since the War they have been getting so
scarce, except among the wrong people. Miss Du Rance might be in that
inclusive category, but then she was so adaptable. Her nationality and
her youth were immensely in her favour. Dear Percy and dear Algernon,
of course, would have to marry somebody; there did not seem to be
enough British money to go round; it was a bore, her not having been
presented, but no doubt she could be on her marriage. And even if she
had no friends in America, that was more than offset by being “in” with
Clanborough House.
Lady Violet, in the meantime, scented the breeze and enjoyed her wicked
self hugely. Like her father, that charming and distinguished man,
she had a rather unconventional view of life. Certain pomposities and
pretensions gave her an impish desire to prick them. She knew that
when it came down to bedrock they were rooted in mere lucre. In spite
of its airs and graces, so cleverly used as a screen for the vulgar
truth, the British aristocracy, what was left of it, was the most
mercenary institution on the face of the earth. She did not blame it
in the least. Being a woman of the world she did not blame anything
for anything just now. It was one hell of a scramble with the devil
hanging on to the hindmost. But if one had a sense of humour and kept
one’s eyes open, it was wonderful what fun was to be got out of the
charming piggy-wiggies one saw in the dear old stye.
The Canary was sacred, of course. Dear Mother had kept up her end so
bravely; and Gwendolen was a good and sensible girl, though a little
dull. But the minor dicky birds, the Percies and the Algernons were
fair game for an early rising Puss, who had had its little tail twisted
pretty severely at one time or another. As good as gold she was too,
but without a sou, except what she earned by her own wits.
Meanwhile, the battle raged. Lady Violet resolved that Mame should
be invited to Scotland for the deer stalking. It would crown her
success. Such pluck deserved recognition. Lady Violet had a strong
dash of sportsmanship in her. She was all for the underdog; and the
uncalled-for attitude of certain people had rather “got her goat.” Live
and let live was an excellent motto; in fact, it so happened that it
was the motto of the Trehernes. She enjoyed nothing better than to salt
the tails of the Marcella Creber Newsums of the earth and their British
prototypes. Mame was doing harm to nobody, yet New York-on-Thames was
determined to down her.
However, they would see. It was true that Aunt Emily seemed to be
wavering. Eton v. Harrow was through. People were packing up and
clearing off to Goodwood and then to Cowes for the yachting. Lady
Violet obtained an invitation for her little friend aboard the
_Excelsior_ with those comic people the Dunnings. Glorious beer. But
in Britain these days there was great competition even for that. It
was one of the key industries that had done very well in the War. She
herself was going to spend five days aboard the _Excelsior_, if she was
able to survive them. No doubt she would. New people were so much more
amusing than the old. But she had rather made it a condition that she
should be accompanied by her little friend.
Still, Cowes and the Dunnings were a mere side show. Scotland at the
end of next month would be the joy wheel. And Aunt Emily seemed to be
wavering. To Celimene’s chagrin, Mame had not been included in the
invitation she herself had already received. If it went phut, it would
be one up to the other side.
A proper score for Mrs. Creber Newsum if Miss Du Rance was left out.
Her friend and partner chivalrously felt she must be up and doing.
In some ways it would suit the firm better for Mame to stay in town
gathering news while Celimene was sunning herself on the moors, but
that hardly seemed fair. Besides, their job could be carried on
anywhere within reach of a telegraph office; and in that respect
Dunkeldie was very well off.
Honest work and real grit had earned the reward of a jolly fortnight.
Celimene was fully determined that Mame should have it. She was
beginning to take a personal pride in the success against odds of this
clever child. Besides, if little Miss Chicago was left out in the cold,
there would be smiles.
The thing hung fire so long that it began to look as if the day was
going against them. Mame herself inclined to think so. The Colony was
very active; it was always trying to call her bluff. All through the
summer she had managed to keep her chin above water, but she could not
expect to go on like that forever. Soon or late, something was bound to
happen.
There were several reasons why Mame’s heart was set on an invitation to
Dunkeldie; but one must not look for everything in this world. All the
same it was a defeat. And the moral of it was, no doubt, that at last
the tide had begun to turn.