Mr. Harrington's Fault
Lady Theodosia put on such a splendid purple brocade tea-gown for tea, but Fluff would jump up at the tray, and succeeded at last in upsetting a whole jug of cream over her. She was sitting in a very low chair that it is difficult to get out of, and she looked quite piteous with billows of cream rolling off her; it got into Fanny's nose and made her sneeze, and that annoyed the other dogs, and they all began to fight, and the St. Bernard joined in, and in his excitement he overturned the whole table and tray. You never saw such a catastrophe! The dogs got quite wild with joy, and left off fighting to gobble cakes, and when Mr. Harrington, who had been away writing letters, rushed in to see what the commotion was, he did catch it! We extricated Lady Theodosia from masses of broken china and dribbles of jam, in the most awful rage. She said it was entirely Mr. Harrington's fault for not being there to look after the dogs. Considering she had sent him to write about their muzzles, I do call it hard, don't you? Mr. Doran came in, and when he saw the best Crown Derby smashed on the floor, and the teapot all bent, he became quite transformed, and sworedreadfully. He said such rude words, Mamma, that I cannot even write them, and it ended up with,
"If you keep a d----d puppy to look after your other d----d puppies, why the devil don't you see he does it!"
I hope you aren't awfully shocked, Mamma, at me writing that; I was obliged to, to show you what awful creatures men really are underneath, even if their outsides look as meek as Mr. Doran's. Lady Theodosia burst into tears, and it was altogether a fearful scene if it had not been so funny to look at. We none of us got any tea, for by the time Lady Theodosia had been got to dry her eyes, and things were cleared up, we were all only too glad to disperse. I am sure a lot of children could not be so naughty as these dogs are.
A prudent Retirement
Dinner began by being rather strained, but gradually got quite gay. Mr. Doran would have up three different brands of champagne for every one to try, and the men seemed to like them very much. By dessert everything was lively again, and dinner ended by Mr. Doran singing "The hounds of the Meynell," with one foot on the table as gay as a lark. But wasn't it tiresome, Mamma? when we got into the drawing-room, Lady Theodosia said we had had a long day, and must be tired, and she packed the two Everleighs and me off to bed before the men came in, and so here I am writing to you, because it is ridiculous to suppose I am going to sleep at this hour. Agnès and I leave by the early train on Saturday morning, so good-bye till then, dear Mamma; love from your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.
Carriston Towers,
27th October.
Carriston Towers
Dearest Mamma,—I shall never again arrive at a place at three o'clock in the afternoon; it is perfectly ghastly! As we drove up to the door—it was pouring with rain—I felt that I should not like anything here. It does look such a large grey pile: and how cold and draughty that immense stone hall must be in winter! There were no nice big sofas about, or palms, or lots of papers and books; nothing but suits of armour and great marble tables, looking like monuments. I was taken down endless passages to the library, and there left such a long time that I had got down an oldPunchand was looking at it, and trying to warm my feet, when Lady Carriston came in with Adeline. I remember how I hated playing with her years ago; she always patronised me, being three years older, and she is just the same now, only both their backs have got longer and their noses more arched, and they are the image of each other. Adeline seems very suppressed; Lady Carriston does not—her face is carved out of stone. They look very well bred and respectable, and badly dressed; nothing rustled nicely when they walked, and they had not their nails polished, or scent on, or anything like that; but Lady Carriston had a splendid row of pearls round her throat, on the top of her rough tweed dress and linen collar.
They pronounce their words very distinctly, in an elevated kind of way, and you feel as if icicles were trickling down your back, and you can't think of athingto say. When we had got to the end of your neuralgia and my journey, there was such a pause! and I suppose they thought I was an idiot, and were only too glad to get me off to my room, where Adeline took me, and left me, hoping I had everything I wanted, and saying tea was at five in the blue drawing-room. And there I had to stay while Agnès unpacked. It was dull! It is a big room, and the fire had only just been lit. The furniture is colourless and ugly, and, although it is all comfortable and correct, there are no books about, except "Romola" and "Middlemarch" and some Carlyle and John Stuart Mill, and I did not feel that I could do with any of that just then. So there I sat twiddling my thumbs for more than an hour, and Agnès did make such a noise, opening and shutting drawers, but at last I remembered a box of caramels in my dressing-bag, and it was better after that.
A Dull Hour
Agnès had put out my white cashmere for tea, and at five I started to find my way to the blue drawing-room. The bannisters are so broad and slippery—the very things for sliding on. I feel as if I should start down them one day, just to astonish Adeline, only I promised you I would be good. Well, when I got to the drawing-room, the party—about twelve—had assembled. The old Earl had been wheeled in from his rooms: he wears a black velvet skull-cap and a stock but he has a splendid and distinguished old face. If I were he, I would not have such a dull daughter-in-law to live with me as Lady Carriston is, even if my son was dead. The boy, Charlie Carriston, was there too; he does look a goose. He is like those pictures in thePunchthat I was looking at, where the family is so old that their chins and foreheads have gone. He is awfully afraid of his mother. There were two or three elderly pepper-and-salt men, and that Trench cousin, who is a very High Church curate (you know Aunt Mary told us about him), and there are a Sir Samuel and Lady Garnons, with an old maid daughter, and Adeline's German governess, who has stayed on as companion, and helped to pour out the tea.
A Modern Grandison
The conversation was subdued; about politics and Cabinet Ministers, and pheasants and foxes, and things of that kind, and no one said anything that meant anything else, as they did at Nazeby, or were witty like they were at Tournelle, and the German governess said "Ach" to everything, and Lady Garnons and Miss Garnons knitted all the time, which gave their voices the sound of "one-two-three" when they spoke, although they did not really count. No one had on tea-gowns—just a Sunday sort of clothes. I don't know how we should have got through tea if the coffee-cream cakes had not been so good. The old Earl called me to him when he had finished, and talked so beautifully to me; he paid me some such grand old-fashioned compliments, and his voice sounds as if he had learnt elocution in his youth. There is not a word of slang or anything modern; one quite understands how he was able to wake up the House of Lords before his legs gave way. It seems sad that such a ninny as Charlie should succeed him. I feel proud of being related to him, but I shall never think of Lady Carriston except as a distant cousin. Both Charlie and Adeline are so afraid of her that they hardly speak.
I shan't waste any of my best frocks here, so I made Agnès put me on the old blue silk for the evening. She was disgusted. At dinner I sat between Charlie and one of the pepper-and-salts—he is a M.P. They are going to shoot partridges to-morrow; and I don't know what we shall do, as there has been no suggestion of our going out to lunch.
After dinner we sat in the yellow drawing-room; Lady Carriston and Lady Garnons talked in quite an animated way together about using their personal influence to suppress all signs of Romanism in the services of the Church. They seemed to think they would have no difficulty in stopping it. They are both Low Church, Miss Garnons told me, but she herself held quite different views. Then she asked me if I did not think the Reverend Ernest Trench had a "soulful face," so pure and abstracted that merely looking at him gave thoughts of a higher life. I said No; he reminded me of a white ferret we had once, and I hated curates. She looked perfectly sick at me and did not take the trouble to talk any more, but joined Adeline, who had been winding silk with Fräulein Schlarbaum for a tie she is knitting. So I tried to read theContemporary Review, but I could not help hearing Lady Carriston telling Lady Garnons that she had always brought up Adeline and Charlie so carefully that she knew their inmost thoughts. (She did not mention Cyril, who is still at Eton.)
"Yes, I assure you, Georgina," she said, "my dear children have never had a secret from me in their innocent lives."
The Duke's Shirt
When the men came in from the dining-room, one of the old fellows came and talked to me, and I discovered he is the Duke of Lancashire. He is ordinary looking, and his shirts fit so badly—that nasty sticking-out look at the sides, and not enough starch. I would not have shirts that did not fit if I were a Duke, would you? They are all staying here for the Conservative meeting to-morrow evening at Barchurch. These three pepper-and-salts are shining lights in this county, I have gathered. Lady Carriston seems very well informed on every subject. It does not matter if she is talking to Mr. Haselton or Sir Andrew Merton, (the two M.P.'s), or the Duke, who is the M.F.H., or the curate; she seems to know much more about politics, and hunting, and religion than they do. It is no wonder she can see her children's thoughts!
At half-past ten we all said good-night. The dear old Earl does not come in from the dining-room; he is wheeled straight to his rooms, so I did not see him. Miss Garnons and Adeline both looked as if they could hardly bear to part with their curate, and finally we got upstairs, and now I must go to bed.—Best love, from your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.
P.S.—Everything is kept up with great state here; there seems to be a footman behind every one's chair at dinner.
Carriston Towers,
28th October.
Charlie's Dissimulation
Dearest Mamma,—I was so afraid of being late for breakfast this morning that I was down quite ten minutes too soon, and when I got into the breakfast-room I found Charlie alone, mixing himself a brandy cocktail. He wanted to kiss me, because he said we were cousins, but I did not like the smell of the brandy, so I would not let him. He made me promise that I would come out with him after breakfast, before they started to shoot, to look at his horses; then we heard some one coming, and he whisked the cocktail glass out of sight in the neatest way possible. At breakfast he just nibbled a bit of toast, and drank a glass of milk, and Lady Carriston kept saying to him, "My dear, dear boy, you have no appetite," and he said, "No, having to read so hard as he did at night took it away."
The Duke seemed a little annoyed that there was not a particular chutney in his curried kidneys, which I thought very rude in another person's house; and, as it was Friday, the Reverend Mr. Trench refused every dish in a loud voice, and then helped himself to a whole sole at the side-table.
The food was lovely. Miss Garnons did not eat a thing, and Lady Garnons was not down nor, of course, the old Earl.
After breakfast we meandered into the hall. Smoking is not allowed anywhere except in the billiard-room, which is down yards and yards of passages, so as not to let the smell get into the house. We seemed to be standing about doing nothing, so I said I would go up and get my boots on, or probably there would not be time to go with Charlie to see his horses before they started.
You should have seen the family's three faces! Charlie's silly jaw dropped, Adeline's eyebrows ran up to her hair almost, while Lady Carriston said in an icy voice: "We had not thought of visiting the stables so early."
Did you ever hear of anything so ridiculous, Mamma? Just as though I had said something improper! I was furious with Charlie, he had not even the pluck to say he had asked me to go; but I paid him out. I just said, "I concluded you had consulted Lady Carriston before asking me to go with you, or naturally I should not have suggested going to get ready." He did look a stupid thing, and bolted at once; but Lady Carriston saw I was not going to be snubbed, so she became more polite, and presently asked me to come and see the aviary with her.
The Slip of Paper
As we walked down the armour gallery she met a servant with a telegram, and while she stopped to read it I looked out of one of the windows. The wall is so thick they are all in recesses, and Charlie passed underneath, his head just level with the open part. The moment he saw me he fished out a scrap of paper from his pocket and pressed it into my hand, and said, "Don't be a mug this time," and was gone before I could do anything. I did not know what to do with the paper, so I had to slip it up my sleeve, as with these skirts one hasn't a pocket, and I did feel so mad at having done a thing in that underhand way.
The aviary is such a wonderful place, there seem to be birds of every kind, and the parrakeets do make such a noise. There are lots of palms here and seats, but it is not just an ideal place to stay and talk in, as every creature screams so that you can hardly hear yourself speak. However, Miss Garnons and Mr. Trench did not seem to think so, as, while Lady Carriston stopped to say, "Didysy, woodsie, poppsie, dicksie," to some canaries, I turned a corner to see some owls, and there found them holding hands and kissing (the White Ferret and Miss Garnons I mean, of course, not the owls).
The Mysteries of Religion
They must have come in at the other door, and the parrots' noises had prevented them from hearing us coming. You never saw two people so taken aback. They simply jumped away from one another. Mr. Trench got crimson up to his white eyelashes, and coughed in a nervous way, while poor Miss Garnons at once talked nineteen to the dozen about the "darling little owlies," and never let go my arm until she had got me aside, when she at once began explaining that she hoped I would not misinterpret anything I had seen; that of course it might look odd to one who did not understand the higher life, but there were mysteries connected with her religion, and she hoped I would say nothing about it. I said she need not worry herself. She is quite twenty-eight, you know, Mamma, so I suppose she knows best; but I should hate a religion that obliged me to kiss White Ferret curates in a parrot-house, shouldn't you?
Lady Carriston detests Mr. Trench, but as he is a cousin she has to be fairly civil to him, and they always get on to ecclesiastical subjects and argue when they speak; it is the greatest fun to hear them. They walked on ahead and left me with Miss Garnons until we got back to the hall.
By this time the guns had all started, so we saw no more of them. Then Adeline suggested that she and I should bicycle in the Park, which has miles of lovely road (she is not allowed out of the gates by herself), so at last I got up to my room, and there, as I was ringing the bell for Agnès, Charlie's piece of paper fell out on the floor. I had forgotten all about it. Wasn't it a mercy it did not drop while I was with Lady Carriston? This was all it was: "Come down to tea half-an-hour earlier; shall sham a hurt wrist to be back from shooting in time. Charlie."
I could not help laughing, although I was cross at his impertinence—in taking for granted that I would be quite ready to do whatever he wished. I threw it in the fire, and, of course, I shan't go down a moment before five. Adeline has just been in to see why I am so long getting ready.—Good-bye, dear Mamma, love from your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.
Carriston Towers,
Saturday.
An Anchor in Life
Dear Mamma,—Oh! what a long day this has been! But I always get so muddled if I don't go straight on, that I had better finish telling you about Friday first. Well, while Adeline and I were bicycling, she told me she thought I should grow quite pretty if only my hair was arranged more like hers—she has a jug-handle chignon—and if I had less of that French look. But she supposed I could not help it, having had to spend so much time abroad. She said I should find life was full of temptations, if I had not ananchor. I asked her what that was, and she said it was something on which to cast one's soul. I don't see how that could be an anchor—do you, Mamma? because it is the anchor that gets cast, isn't it? However, she assured me that it was, so I asked her if she had one herself, and she said she had, and it was her great reverence for Mr. Trench, and they were secretly engaged! and she hoped I would not mention it to anybody; and presently, when he joined us, would I mind riding on, as she had so few chances to talk to him? That she would not for the world deceive her mother, but there were mysteries connected with her religion which Lady Carriston could not understand, being only Low Church. But when they saw a prospect of getting married they would tell her about it; if they did it now, she would persuade the Duke not to give Mr. Trench the Bellestoke living, which he has half promised him, and so make it impossible for them to marry.
I asked her if Mr. Trench was Miss Garnons' anchor too? and she seemed quite annoyed, so I suppose their religion has heaps of different mysteries; but I don't see what all that has got to do with telling her mother, do you? And I should rather turn Low Church than have to kiss Mr. Trench, anyway. He came from a side path and joined us, and as soon as I could I left them; but they picked me up again by the inner gate, just as I was going in to lunch, after having had a beautiful ride. The Park is magnificent.
Putting on the Clock
At lunch I sat by the old Earl. He said my hair was a sunbeam's home, and that my nose was fit for a cameo; he is perfectly charming. Afterwards we wenten blocto the library, and the Garnons began to knit again. Nobody says a word about clothes; they talked about the Girls' Friendly Society, and the Idiot Asylum, and the Flannel Union, and Higher Education, and whenever Lady Garnons mentions any one that Lady Carriston does not know all about, she always says, "Oh! andwho wasshe?" And then, after thoroughly sifting it, if she finds that the person in question does not belong to any of the branches of the family that she is acquainted with, she says "Society is getting very mixed now." Presently about six more people arrived. There seems to be nothing but these ghastly three o'clock trains here. All the new lot were affected by it, just as I was. There were endless pauses.
I would much rather scream at Aunt Maria for a whole afternoon than have to spend it with Lady Carriston. I am sure she and Godmamma would be the greatest friends if they could meet. When I got up to my room I was astonished to find it was so late. I had not even scrambled into my clothes when the clock struck five. I had forgotten all about Charlie and his scrap of paper, but when I got into the blue drawing-room, there he was, with his wrist bandaged up, and no signs of tea about. What do you think the horrid boy had done, Mamma? Actually had the big gold clock in my room put on! There were ten chances to one, he said, against my looking at my watch, and he knew I would not come down unless I thought it was five. I was so cross that I wanted to go upstairs again, but he would not let me; he stood in front of the door, and there was no good making a fuss, so I sat down by the fire.
He said he had seen last night how struck his Grandfather had been with me, and he did want me to get round him, as he had got into an awful mess, and had not an idea how he was going to get out of it, unless I helped him. I said I was sorry, but I really did not see how I could do anything, and that he had better tell his Mother, as she adored him.
Cora's Necklace
He simply jumped with horror at the idea of telling his Mother. "Good Lord!" he said, "the old girl would murder me," which I did not think very respectful of him. Then he fidgeted, and humm'd and haw'd for such a time that tea had begun to come in before I could understand the least bit what the mess was; but it was something about a Cora de la Haye, who dances at the Empire, and a diamond necklace, and how he was madly in love with her, and intended to marry her, but he had lost such a lot of money at Goodwood, that no one knew about, as he was supposed not to have been there, that he could not pay for the necklace unless his grandfather gave him a lump sum to pay his debts at Oxford with, and that what he wanted was for me to get round the old Earl to give him this money, and then he could pay for Cora de la Haye's necklace.
He showed me her photo, which he keeps in his pocket. It is just like the ones in the shops in the Rue de Rivoli that Mademoiselle never would let me stop and look at in Paris. I am sure Lady Carriston can't have been having second sight into her children's thoughts lately!
Just then Lady Garnons and some of the new people came in, and he was obliged to stop. We had a kind of high tea, as the Conservative meeting was to be at eight, and it is three-quarters of an hour's drive into Barchurch, and there was to be a big supper after. Lady Carriston did make such a fuss over Charlie's wrist. She wanted to know was it badly sprained, and did it ache much, and was it swollen, and he had the impudence to let her almost cry over him, and pretended to wince when she touched it! As we were driving in to the meeting he sat next me in the omnibus, and kept squeezing my arm all the time under the rug, which did annoy me so, that at last I gave his ankle a nasty kick, and then he left off for a little. He has not the ways of a gentleman, and I think he had better marry his Cora, and settle down into a class more suited to him than ours; butIshan't help him with his Grandfather.
Politics and Principle
Have you ever been to a political meeting, dear Mamma? It is funny! All these old gentlemen sit up on a platform and talk such a lot. The Duke put in "buts" and "ifs" and "thats" over and over again when he could not think of a word, and you weren't a bit the wiser when he had finished, except that it was awfully wrong to put up barbed wire; but I can't see what that has to do with politics, can you? One of the pepper-and-salts did speak nicely, and so did one of the new people—quite a youngish person; but they all had such a lot of words, when it would have done just as well if they had simply said that of course our side was the right one—because trade was good when we were in, and that there are much better people Conservatives than Radicals. Anyway, no one stays a Radical when he gets to be his own father, as it would be absurd to cut off one's nose to spite one's face—don't you think so, Mamma? So it is nonsense talking so much.
One or two rude people in the back called out things, but no one paid any attention; and at last, after lots of cheering, we got into the omnibus again. Iwashungry. At supper we sat more or less anyhow, and I happened to be next the youngish person who spoke. I don't know his name, but I know he wasn't any one very grand, as Lady Carriston said, before they arrived in the afternoon, that things were changing dreadfully; that even the Conservative party was being invaded by people of no family; and she gave him two fingers when she said "How d'ye do?" But if he is nobody, I call it very nice of him to be a Conservative, and then he won't have to change afterwards when he gets high up. The old Earl asked me what I thought of it all, so I told him; and he said that it was a great pity they could not have me at the head of affairs, and then things would be arranged on a really simple and satisfactory basis.
After breakfast this morning most of the new people went, and the Duke and the pepper-and-salts; Lady Carriston drove Lady Garnons over to see her Idiot Asylum. They were to lunch near there, so we had our food in peace without them, and you would not believe the difference there was! Everyone woke up: Old Sir Samuel Garnons, who had not spoken once that I heard since I came, joked with Fräulein Schlarbaum. Charlie had two brandies-and-sodas instead of his usual glass of milk, and Adeline and Miss Garnons were able to gaze at theiranchorwithout fear.
This afternoon I have been for a ride with Charlie, and do you know, Mamma, I believe he is trying to make love to me, but it is all in such horrid slang that I am not quite sure. I must stop now.—With love, from your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.
A Good Protestant
P.S.—Sunday. I missed the post last night. We did spend a boring evening doing nothing, not even dummy whist, like at Aunt Maria's, and I was so tired hearing the two old ladies talking over the idiots they had seen at the Asylum, that I was thankful when half-past ten came. As for to-day, I am glad it is the last one I shall spend here. There is a settled gloom over everything, a sort of Sunday feeling that makes one eat too much lunch. Mr. Trench had been allowed to conduct the service in the chapel this morning, and Lady Carriston kept tapping her foot all the time with annoyance at all his little tricks, and once or twice, when he was extra go-ahead, I heard her murmuring to herself "Ridiculous!" and "Scandalous!" Whatwillshe do when he is her son-in-law?
Adeline and Miss Garnons knelt whenever they could, and as long as they could, and took off their gloves and folded their hands. I think Adeline hates Miss Garnons, because she is allowed to cross herself; and of course Adeline daren't, with her mother there.
After tea Charlie managed to get up quite close to me in a corner, and he said in a low voice that I was "a stunner," and that if I would just "give him the tip," he'd "chuck Cora to-morrow;" that I "could give her fits!" And if that is an English proposal, Mamma, I would much rather have the Vicomte's or the Marquis's.
We are coming by the evening train to-morrow; so till then good-bye.—Your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.
Chevenix Castle,
8th November.
Chevenix Castle
Dearest Mamma,—I am sure I shall enjoy myself here. The train was so late, and only two other people were coming by it besides me, so we all drove up in the omnibus together. One was a man, and the other a woman, and she glared at me, and fussed her maid so about her dressing-bag, and it was such a gorgeous affair, and they had such quantities of luggage, and the only thing they said on the drive up was how cold it was, and they wondered when we should get there. And when we did arrive, there was only just time to rush up and dress for dinner; all the other people had come by an earlier train. I left them both in the care of the groom of the chambers, as even Cousin Octavia had gone upstairs, and there was not a soul about, but she had left a message for me; and while Agnès was clawing the things out of the trunks, I went to her room.
She was just having her hair done, but she did not mind a bit, and was awfully glad to see me. She is adear. Her hair is as dark as anything underneath, but all the outside is a bright red. She says it is much more attractive like that, but it does look odd before the front thing is on, and that is a fuzzy bit in a net, like what Royalties have. And then she has lots of twist-things round at the back, and although it doesn't look at all bad when the diamond stick-ups are in and she is all arranged. She went on talking all the time while her maid was fixing it, just as if we were alone in the room. She told me I had grown six inches since she was with us at Arcachon three years ago, and that I was quite good-looking. She said they had a huge party for the balls, some rather nice people, and Lady Doraine and one or two others she hated. I said why did she have people she hated—that I would not if I were a Countess like her; so she said those were often the very ones one was obliged to have, because the nice men wouldn't come without them.
The Test of a Gentleman
She hoped I had some decent clothes, as she had got a tame millionaire for me. So I said if it was Mr. Wertz she need not bother because I knew him; and, besides, I only intended to marry a gentleman, unless, of course, I should get past twenty andpassé, and then, goodness knowswhatI might take. She laughed, and said it was ridiculous to be so particular, but that anyway that would be no difficulty, as every one was a gentleman now who paid for things.
Then she sent me off to dress, just as she began to put some red stuff on her lips. It is wonderful how nice she looks when everything is done, even though she has quite a different coloured chest to the top bit that shows above her pearl collar, which is brickish-red from hunting. So is her face, but she is such a dear that one admires even her great big nose and little black eyes, which one would think hideous in other people. I met Tom just going into her room as I came out; he said he had come to borrow some scent from her. He looks younger than she does, but they were the same age when they got married, weren't they?
He kissed me and said I was a dear little cousin, and had I been boxing any one's ears lately. Before I could box his for talking so, Octavia called out to him to let me go, or I should be late, and had I not to scurry just? Agnès fortunately had everything ready, but I fussed so that my face was crimson when I got downstairs, and every one was already there.
There seemed to be dozens of people. You will see in the list in theMorning Postto-morrow what a number of the Nazeby set there are here.
Lord Valmond is here, but he did not see me until we were at dinner. I went in with Mr. Hodgkinson, who is contesting this Division; he is quite young and wears an eyeglass, which he keeps dropping. He really looks silly, but they say he says some clever things if you give him time, and that he will be a great acquisition to the party he has joined now, as it is much easier to get made a peer by the Radicals; and that is what he wants, as his father made a huge fortune in bones and glue.
He did not talk to me at all, but eat his dinner at first, and then said: "I don't believe in talking before the fish, do you?"
So I said: "No, nor till after the ices, unless one has something to say."
He was so surprised that his eyeglass dropped, and he had to fumble to find it, so by that time I had begun to talk to old Colonel Blake, who was at the other side of me.
The Game of Bridge
Lady Doraine was looking so pretty; her hair has grown much fairer and nicer than it was at Nazeby. Lord Doraine is here too; his eyes are so close together! He plays a game called "Bridge" with Mr. Wertz and Mr. Hodgkinson and Tom all the time—I mean in the afternoon before dinner—so Mr. Hodgkinson told me when we got to dessert. I suppose it was the first thing he had found to say! I asked him if it was a kind of leapfrog; because don't you remember we called it "Bridge" when you had to jump two? He said No; that it was a game of cards, and much more profitable if one had the luck of Lord Doraine, who had won heaps of money from Mr. Wertz. Afterwards, in the drawing-room, Lady Doraine came up to me and asked me where I had been hiding since the Nazeby visit, and when she heard I had been in France, she talked a lot about the fashions. She has such a splendid new rope of pearls, and such lovely clothes. The Rooses are here too, and Jane has a cold in her head. She says she heard by this evening's post that Miss La Touche is going to be married to old Lord Kidminster, and that he is "too deaf to have heard everything, so it is just as well." I can't see why, as Miss La Touche is so nice, and never talks rubbish; so I think it a pity he can't hear all she says, don't you?
Lady Doraine calls Octavia "darling!" She stood fiddling with her diamond chain and purring over her frock, so I suppose she is fond of her in spite of Octavia hating her.
An Englishman's Views
After dinner Lord Valmond came up to me at once. I felt in such a good temper, it was hard to be very stiff, he seemed so awfully glad to see me. He said I might have let him know what day it was that I crossed over to France after leaving Hazeldene Court—he would have taken such care of me. I said I was quite able to take care of myself. Then he asked me if the people were nice in France? and when I said perfectly charming, he said some Frenchwomen weren't bad but the men were monkeys. I said it showed how little he knew about them, I had found them delightful, always polite and respectful and amusing, quite a contrast to some English people one was obliged to meet.
His eyes blazed like two bits of blue fire, and when he looked like that, it made my heart beat, Mamma, I don't know why. He is so nice-looking, of course no Frenchman could compare to him, but I was obliged to go on praising them because it annoyed him so. He said I must have stayed there ages, he had been wondering and wondering when he was to see me again. He said Mr. Hodgkinson was an ass, and he had been watching us at dinner.
Then Lord Doraine came up and Lady Doraine introduced him to me, and he said a number of nice things, and he has a charming voice; and Mr. Wertz came up too, and spoke to me; and then Lady Doraine called Lord Valmond to come and sit on the little sofa by her, and she looked at him so fondly that I thought perhaps Lord Doraine might not like it. He tried not to see, but Mr. Wertzdid, and I think he must have a kind heart, because he fidgeted so, and almost at once went and joined them to break up the tête-à-tête, so that Lord Doraine might not be teased any more, I suppose. And every one went to bed rather early, because of the ball and shoot to-morrow, and I must jump in too, as I am sleepy, so good-night, dearest Mamma.—Your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.
Chevenix Castle,
9th November.
The Peers' Sad Case
Dearest Mamma,—Such a lot to tell you, and no time, as I must go down to tea. We passed rather a boring morning after the men had started for their shoot. Only a few people were down for breakfast, and none of the men who weren't guns. I suppose they were asleep. But Lady Grace Fenton was as cross as a bear because she wanted to go and shoot too. She is just like a man, and does look so odd and almost improper in the evening in female dress. And Tom won't have women out shooting, except for lunch. Lady Doraine and Lady Greswold talked by the fire while they smoked, and Lady Greswold said she really did not know where the peers were to turn to now to make an honest penny, their names being no more good in the City, and that it was abominably hard that now, she had heard, they would have to understand business and work just like ordinary Stock Exchange people if they wanted to get on, and she did not know what things were coming to.
At lunch, in the châlet in the wood, it was rather fun. Mr. Hodgkinson and Lord Doraine sat on either side of me. Lord Valmond came up with the last guns, rather late, and he looked round the table and frowned. He seems quite grumpy now, not half so good-tempered as he used to be. I expect it is because Mrs. Smith isn't here.
Mr. Wertz was so beautifully turned out in the newest clothes and the loveliest stockings, and he had two loaders and three guns, and Lord Doraine told me that he had killed three pheasants, but the ground was knee-deep in cartridges round him, and Tom was furious, as he likes an enormous bag. So I asked why, if Mr. Wertz was not a sportsman, had he taken the huge Quickham shoot in Norfolk? Then Mr. Hodgkinson chimed in: "Oh! to entertain Royalty and the husbands of his charming lady friends!" and he fixed his eyeglass and looked round the corner of it at Lord Doraine, who drank a glass of peach brandy.
After lunch the men had to start quickly, as we had dawdled so, and so we turned to go back to the house.
Octavia put her arm through mine, and we were walking on, when Lady Doraine joined us, with the woman who had glared at me in the omnibus. She looked as if she hated walking. She is not actually stout, but everything is as tight as possible, and it does make her puff. She was awfully smart, and had the thinnest boots on. Lady Doraine was being so lovely to her, and Octavia was in one of her moods when she talks over people's heads, so we had not a very pleasant walk, until we came to the stable gate, when Octavia and I went that way to see her new hunters. We had hardly got out of hearing when she said—
"Really, Elizabeth, how I dislike women!"
The Millionaires
So I asked her who the puffing lady was, and she said a Mrs. Pike, the new Colonial millionairess.
"Horrid creature, as unnecessary as can be!"
So I asked her why she had invited her, then. And she said her sister-in-law, Carry, had got round Tom and made a point of it, as she was running them, and now Carry had got the measles and could not come to look after the creature herself; and it would serve her right if Folly Doraine took them out of her hands. And so you see, Mamma, everything has changed from your days, because this isn't a person you would dream of knowing. I don't quite understand what "running them" means, and as Octavia was a little out of temper, I did not like to ask her; but Jane Roose is sure to know, so I will find out and tell you.
I went and played with the children when we got in. They are such ducks, and we had a splendid romp. Little Tom is enormous for five, and so clever, and Gwynnie is the image of Octavia when her hair was dark. Now Imustgo down to tea.
Teaching Patience
7.30.—I was so late. Every one was there when I got down in such gorgeous tea-gowns; I wore my white mousseline delaine frock. The Rooses have the look of using out their summer best dresses. Jane's cold is worse. The guns had got back, and came straggling in one by one, as they dressed, quickly or slowly; and Lord Doraine had such a lovely velvet suit on, and he said such nice things to me; and Lord Valmond sat at the other side, and seemed more ill-tempered than ever. I can't think what is the matter with him. At last he asked me to play Patience with him; so I said that was a game one played by oneself, and he said he knew quite a new one which he was sure I would like to learn; but I did not particularly want to just then. Lady Doraine was showing Mr. Wertz her new one at the other side of the hall. There are some cosy little tables arranged for playing cards, with nice screens near, so that the other people's counting, &c., may not put one out.
Mrs. Pike was too splendid for words, in petunia satin, and sable, and quantities of pearl chains; and Tom was trying to talk to her. Nobody worries about Mr. Pike much; but Lord Doraine took him off to the billiard-room, after collecting Mr. Wertz, to play "Bridge"—everybody plays "Bridge," I find—and then Lady Doraine came and joined Lord Valmond and me on the big sofa.
Lord Valmond hardly spoke after that, and she teased him and said: "Harry, what a child you are!" and she looked as sweetly malicious as the tortoise-shell cat at home does when it is going to scratch while it is purring. And presently Dolly Tenterdown came over to us (he is in Cousin Jack's battalion of the Coldstreams, and he looks about fifteen, but he behaves very "grown up"), and he asked Lady Doraine to come and teach him her new "Patience"; and they went to one of the screen tables, and Lord Valmond said he was a charming fellow, but I thought he looked silly, and I dowonderwhat she found to say to him. She must be quite ten years older than he is, and Jane Roose says it is an awful sign of age when people play with boys.
Lord Valmond asked me to keep him some dances to-night, but I said I really did not know what I should do until it began, as I had never been at a ball before. I haven't forgiven him a bit, so he need not think I have. Now I must stop. Oh! I am longing to put on my white tulle, and I do feel excited.—Your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.
P.S.—I asked Jane Roose what "running them" means, and it's being put on to things in the City, and having all your bills paid if you introduce them to people; only you sometimes have to write their letters for them to prevent them putting the whole grand address, &c., that is in the Peerage; and she says it is quite a profession now, and done by the best people, which of course must be true, as Carry is Tom's sister. E.
Chevenix Castle,
10th November.
A Modern Industry
Dearest Mamma,—Oh! it was too, too lovely, last night. I am having my breakfast in bed to-day, just like the other grown-up people, and it really feels so grand to be writing to you between sips of tea and nibbles of toast and strawberry jam! Well, to tell you about the ball. First my white tulle was a dream. Octavia said it was by far the prettiest débutante frock she had ever seen; and when I was dressed she sent for me to her room, and Tom was there too, and she took out of a duck of a white satin case a lovely string of pearls and put it round my throat, and said it was their present to me for my first ball! Wasn't it angelic of them? I hugged and kissed them both, and almost squashed Tom's buttonhole into his pink coat, I was so pleased, but he said he didn't mind; and then we all went down together, and no one else was ready, so we looked through the rooms. The dancing, of course, was to be in the picture gallery, and the flowers were so splendid everywhere, and Octavia was quite satisfied. It is a mercy it is such a big house, for we weren't put out a bit beforehand by the preparations.
I don't know if you were ever like that, Mamma, but I felt as if I must jump about and sing, and my cheeks were burning. Octavia sat down and played a valse, and Tom and I opened the ball by ourselves in the empty room, and itwasfun, and then we saw Lord Valmond peeping in at the door, and he came up and said Tom was not to be greedy, and so I danced the two last rounds with him, and he had such a strange look in his eyes, a little bit like Jean when he had the fit, and he never said one word until we stopped.
Forgiveness
Then Octavia went out of the other door, and I don't know where Tom went, but we were alone, and so he said, would I forgive him for everything and be friends, that he had never been so sorry for anything in his life as having offended me. He really seemed so penitent, and he does dance so beautifully, and he is so tall and nice in his pink coat; and, besides, I remembered his dinner with Aunt Maria, and how nasty I had been to him at Hazeldene! So I said, all right I would try, if he would promise never to be horrid again; and he said he wouldn't; and then we shook hands, and he said I looked lovely, and that my frock was perfect; and then Tom came back and we went into the hall, and everybody was down, and they had drawn for partners to go in to dinner while we were in the ballroom. Tom had made Octavia arrange that we should draw, as he said he could not stand Lady Greswold two nights running. Octavia said she had drawn for Lord Valmond because he wasn't there, and that his slip of paper wasme, and he said on our way into the dining-room that Octavia was a brick. Wehadsuch fun at dinner. Now that I have forgiven him, and have not to be thinking all the time of how nasty I can be, we get on splendidly.