III
Thethree ladies now had the carriage to themselves. As soon as the train had moved out of the station, Lady Elfreda discardedThe Queenand said, “What have you brought for luncheon, Pikey?”
TheSociety Pictorialwas laid aside while Pikey came resolutely to grips with an interesting looking case which had been placed on a vacant seat. In the meantime the blessed word “luncheon” had brought a pang to the heart of Miss Cass. On leaving her home that morning it had been her intention to procure some food en route. Alas, the difficulties of metropolitan travel, the irregularity of ’bus and train culminating in a bear fight at Belgravia, had driven all minor matters out of a head that was not very strong in practical affairs. Therefore it was now the part of Miss Gray Eyes to regard wistfully, from behind her book, the disclosure of the contents of the luncheon basket. Certainly it was quite in the tradition of a marquis’ daughter. There was a place for everything and everything was in its place: delicious looking sandwiches in neat tins, a cake which for war time could only be described as royal, and crowning glory and wonder, a large bottle of wine most artfully packed with glasses and corkscrew complete.
Lady Elfreda shed one neat glove with a very businesslike air and offered the contents of the tins. “Those are egg, Pikey—and these are ham, I think.”
The choice of Pikey was ham. The younger lady inserted a very level row of teeth into the other kind. “Considerin’,” she remarked with obvious satisfaction, “that these left Ireland at midnight they have stood the journey pretty well.”
But the Werewolf was too busy to attempt any form of conversation.
BehindThe Patrician, now rigidly fixed as a barrier, the mouth of Miss Cass was watering. Within her was the emotion of sinking which marks the sense of zero. It was a terribly long journey to Clavering St. Mary’s. The train was not due in until after four. If only she had provided herself with a piece of chocolate! At the next stopping place, perhaps, she might be able to get something, but it was by no means a certainty, having regard to the length of the train and the present time of famine.
Suddenly Miss Cass was driven clean out of her dismal reflections. A voice of irresistible charm was addressing her. “Won’t you have one of these?” Both tins were offered. “Ham—and those are egg.”
Miss Cash blushed and hesitated. There was not the slightest need to do either, but it was her nature to blush and to hesitate, and there is no appeal from nature. A pair of eyes, very blue, very clear and only very slightly ironical looked straight into hers. “Do.”The voice was extraordinarily kind. “Please!—won’t you?”
It would have called for a heart of stone to resist such an appeal. Besides, there was no need to resist it.
“Oh, thank you ever so much.” A small piece of paper was laid reverently uponThe Patricianand a delicious looking egg sandwich was laid with similar reverence upon it. Then a white woolen glove was carefully removed.
The flavor of the sandwich was quite equal to its appearance. But it was a mere prelude to the repast. There was a profusion of excellent things, not a vulgar or ostentatious profusion, but the case had come from a land flowing with milk and honey. Miss Cass was firmly required to do her part with both kinds of sandwiches—dreams of sandwiches they were!—alluring biscuits and rich, almond-studded cake. Above all—and to be perfectly frank there would be no story without it—she was compelled to drink honest measure of a generous and full-bodied wine.
The sombre eyes of Pikey glistened when she took this royal vintage out of its improvised cradle and held it up to the light. “Herself said it would be good on the journey,” she announced.
“I know you are clever with corkscrews, Pikey,” said Lady Elfreda, handing the implement persuasively.
Pikey was very clever indeed with corkscrews if her present performance was anything to go by.
“Be very ca-re-ful how you pour it out.” Suchwords were superfluous, which Lady Elfreda well knew; in point of fact, they were a mere concession to the famous cellar of Castle Carabbas, for Pikey showed herself a past mistress in the art of decanting a great wine under trying conditions.
“Clever Pikey!”
Clever enough. The Werewolf had not dwelt from babyhood at Castle Carabbas and brought up half a dozen members of the Family without acquiring knowledge which in some quarters was rated highly.
When she had delicately filled the tumbler to two-thirds of its capacity she handed it to her mistress with something of the air of sovereign pontiff. But to Pikey’s cold disgust that Irresponsible offered it to the lady of the green ulster. Nay, she did more than offer it. She pressed it upon the almost too obvious third-class passenger with a cunning that made resistance almost impossible.
“Do—please! You havesucha long journey.” The blue eyes were smiling. “It will do yousomuch good.” The tone was charming entreaty.
“But—but!” faltered Miss Cass.
“There is a great deal more than we shall require. It is quite a large bottle.” That statement was very true. It was a decidedly large bottle.
The Dragon scowled over the fur clad shoulder of her mistress, whom she would willingly have slain. Nevertheless Miss Cass had to yield toforce majeure.
“Those plain round biscuits are strongly recommended.They make an excellent combination”—clever old Pikey to have thought of those!—“You see, there is any amount—far more than we shall want.”
Resistance was vain. Miss Gray Eyes accepted a plain round biscuit and then she drank of the full-bodied wine from the famous cellar of Castle Carabbas.
“This is for you and me, Pikey.” The Dragon, a figure of grim disapproval, had charged the one remaining tumbler. “You must have the first drink. That is your side of the Atlantic,” Lady Elfreda humorously drew an imaginary line across the mouth of the tumbler. “This is my side.”
Pikey drank. But her nose was so long that it seemed to stretch from Queenstown to Old Point Comfort.
Yes, a great wine, as none knew better than Pikey. She could not bear to see it wasted on Miss No-Class. If Pikey’s will had prevailed it would have choked the lady of the green ulster. What right had she to be drinking it, much less to be having a tumbler to herself?
Who knows what imprisoned genius lurked in that magic bottle from the cellar of Castle Carabbas? Miss Cass had never had such a meal. A modest repast, if you like, yet full of a peculiar virtue. Her thoughts began to fly round, her blood to course quicker; imprisoned forces were unsealed in her brain; phrases, ideas began to shape themselves. The moment withits pains and its fears began to press less heavily. Suddenly she became free of a great kingdom that her dreams had hinted at.
Suppose—entrancing supposition!—she were not an obscure, timid little governess at all, but the daughter of a marquis. She could have looked the part anyway; that was to say, had she been privileged to wear the clothes of the lady opposite she could have made an equally good showing. Privately she felt that with an equal chance she would have made a better. At any rate, if a glass could be depended on, her eyes, which were her chief asset, a rather curious gray, would have gone extremely well with that beautiful skunk collar.
Miss Cass grasped her pencil with a confidence she had never felt before. “The great charm of Mr. Galsworthy’s novels, which they share with the novels of Mr. H. G. Bennett and Mr. Arnold Wells——”
... “This isquitea large bottle, Pikey.”
The eyes of the Dragon glistened ... as if she didn’t know the size of the bottle!
... “You must doyourshare.” The tumbler was replenished.
That which slept in the royal vintage was known only to the Genie whose happy task it was to stage manage this tiny fragment of the human comedy. For the little Catkin lady, after a second modest recourse to the glass, also began to sit up and take notice. She, too, began to look at the world with other eyes.
Suppose one was little Miss Rabbit opposite? How must the world appear when you wear cheap clothes and you carry your own luggage and you have all suburbia upon your eyebrows? Rather nice eyes, though, by the way. What was the book she was studying? Part of some very difficult examination evidently, to judge by the way the poor hunted little mouse was biting her pencil....
Governess, obviously ... of sorts. What must it be like to get one’s living as a governess? How must it seem to be bored and bullied and snubbed by total strangers for the sake of a few pounds a year? Still in some ways even that mode of life might offer advantages. At any rate one might be able to call one’s soul—one’s real soul—one’s own. If you were an obscure little governess whom nobody cared twopence about, you could do as you liked in the big things, even if the small things did as they liked with you.
There must have been a powerful Genius lurking in that famous bottle, for the ears of Lady Elfreda had begun to tingle with resentment. She remembered that she was an unmarried daughter of a cynical father and a selfish mother. Four of her sisters had been sacrificed on the altar of money. And if the present journey into an unknown country meant anything it was her turn now.
With a pang that was almost agony she searched for and read again her mother’s letter.
Castle Carabbas,Friday.Dearest E:I hope you will have a pleasant time at Clavering St. Mary’s. The D. says you may find the host and hostess rather crude, but otherwise very respectable, nice people. He is on several Boards with your father. You are not likely to have met any of your fellow guests, but no doubt you will find them quite agreeable. And in any case you must bear in mind that you are giving your services for a noble cause. I hear from Mabel that last week you had quite a success in “The Duke of Killiecrankie.” The D. says that if everything else fails you will be able to come out as a star!!!By the way, one of the new Peers will be included in the house party. He is what the D. calls “a Lloyd-George Particular,” all the same, he says, he is quite a good fellow. He has made his money rather suddenly, but from what one hears he isextremelywealthy. And that is something to bear in mind with things so black over here and the outlook for land so uncertain.The only people you are likely to know are our old friends the Lancelots who live in the neighborhood. Perhaps you may get out one day to see them.As you will be among strangers I am sending Pikey to look after you. And “under the rose” she is bringing a bottle of the D.’s choicest Chateau Briault as you may be a little run down after your recent Labors in the cause of charity. If you are bored with your present task you must remember that you are giving your services for St. Aidan’s. Much love,Your affectionate mother,Charlotte Carabbas.P. S.: The D. says the new Peer has at least £60,000 a year.
Castle Carabbas,
Friday.
Dearest E:
I hope you will have a pleasant time at Clavering St. Mary’s. The D. says you may find the host and hostess rather crude, but otherwise very respectable, nice people. He is on several Boards with your father. You are not likely to have met any of your fellow guests, but no doubt you will find them quite agreeable. And in any case you must bear in mind that you are giving your services for a noble cause. I hear from Mabel that last week you had quite a success in “The Duke of Killiecrankie.” The D. says that if everything else fails you will be able to come out as a star!!!
By the way, one of the new Peers will be included in the house party. He is what the D. calls “a Lloyd-George Particular,” all the same, he says, he is quite a good fellow. He has made his money rather suddenly, but from what one hears he isextremelywealthy. And that is something to bear in mind with things so black over here and the outlook for land so uncertain.
The only people you are likely to know are our old friends the Lancelots who live in the neighborhood. Perhaps you may get out one day to see them.
As you will be among strangers I am sending Pikey to look after you. And “under the rose” she is bringing a bottle of the D.’s choicest Chateau Briault as you may be a little run down after your recent Labors in the cause of charity. If you are bored with your present task you must remember that you are giving your services for St. Aidan’s. Much love,
Your affectionate mother,
Charlotte Carabbas.
P. S.: The D. says the new Peer has at least £60,000 a year.
A second reading of this letter filled Elfreda with fury. Somehow it was so typical of her mother; of the mother who was a curious mixture of kindness,naïveté and cupidity; of the mother who cared for them all so much in small things and so little in great ones. Behind these careless phrases of Lady Carabbas her youngest daughter read her intentions only too clearly.
As Elfreda sat back in her corner and turned things over in her mind a kind of cold rage began to dominate her. Had she been left any choice in the matter she would not be going to Clavering St. Mary’s at all. No one she knew would be there. But she had not been consulted. Her autocratic father had promised one of his friends “in the city” that she should go down there and take part in some private theatricals in aid of a war charity. For nearly a year now she had been living in London with a married sister and working for the V. A. D. at one of the hospitals, but from time to time she had taken part in various entertainments with considerable success.
The play in which at decidedly short notice she had been called upon to enact no less a rôle than that of the heroine was called “The Lady of Laxton.” It was the work of an enthusiastic amateur whose chief claim to distinction, literary or otherwise, was of the kind that attends the possession of a baronetcy. She was to be a governess masquerading as a girl of position. Not only was the part very long and difficult to learn, but in the opinion of Elfreda it was pointless, silly and vulgar.
To make matters worse she had yet to meet theauthor of the piece, but he was known to several of her sisters with whom he was by no meanspersona gratissima. However, with a fulsome letter, he had proudly sent her a copy of the piece to which he evidently attached considerable value; and at that moment it was in the traveling bag by her side. Resentfully she took it out and began to study it again. In her present frame of mind, made much worse by her mother’s letter, the task seemed even less congenial than it had done at first. “I simplycan’tact such rubbish” was the thought that dominated her.
It was surely too bad to force her into such a position. She dug her teeth into an uncompromising upper lip. Charity excused everything nowadays, but the more she examined the situation she was in, the less she liked it. Beneath the armor of stern self-discipline with which she faced the world were strong feelings, and these flamed suddenly forth into violent antipathy. Surely it was too bad to be let in for a thing of this kind! And she would be among strangers, with as far as she knew, not one solitary friend to help her out.
Her eyes with little darts of anger in them strayed to the girl opposite. Miss Cass was sucking her pencil again in the process of thought, her gaze was fixed on vacancy and she was frowning fiercely. Evidently a very difficult subject she was studying. But, judging by the color in her cheeks, she was the better for her meal.
Elfreda was rather inclined to envy this girl. Shecould call her soul her own at any rate, even if her bread and butter depended on the overtaxing of her brain.
Accidentally their eyes met. The faint, slightly aloof smile of the one was answered by the other’s honest blush of gratitude.
“Are you studying trigonometry?” Elfreda had never studied trigonometry herself, nor did she know exactly what trigonometry was, but if there was anything in a name it must be a subject of superhuman difficulty; and taking as a guide the air of concentration and the rumpled brows of Miss Green Ulster her present difficulty could hardly be less than superhuman.
Miss Cass haltingly explained that she was trying to win a prize in theSaturday Sentinel.
“How amusing! But one has to be very clever to do that, hasn’t one?”
Miss Cass was afraid that it was so. She had been trying week by week for nearly a year, but she had only achieved an honorable mention so far. The topic served to break the ice, however, and they began to talk freely. This may have been due to the fact that both were glowing with a generous wine, for it was the habit of neither to indulge in promiscuous conversation with total strangers. But just now, in quite an odd way, their minds began to march together, in fact one almost seemed to be the other’s counterpart.
Miss Green Ulster confided that her name was Cass, that she came from Laxton, that her father, three yearsdead, had been a solicitor, that her mother had been dead six months, that she was left unprovided for, and that by the recommendation of Canon Carnaby, the vicar of the parish, who had been very good to her mother and herself, she was going as governess to the two young children of Lieutenant Colonel Everard Trenchard-Simpson, D. S. O., The Laurels, Clavering St. Mary’s.
Elfreda was secretly amused by a simplicity which told so much and concealed so little. All the same she was oddly attracted by the way this little suburban laid all her cards on the table. Her hopes, her fears, her pathetic desire for self improvement, the general bleakness of her outlook, her cruel sense of loneliness now that her mother as well as her father was dead, her poverty, her lack of a really first-class education, the exposure of all these things verged upon the indecent, but somehow they called insistently for pity.
Poor Miss Cass! And yet ... Elfreda shivered at her thoughts ... lucky Miss Cass!
“How thrilling to act ... in public ... on a real stage ... to a real audience!” The gray eyes looked quite charming in their awe and their sincerity.
“Do you really think so?” The slight drawl with its tag of fatigue was equally sincere.
“Oh, I should just love it—that is, I should just love it if I wereyou.” The candorwasalmost indecent, but a nearly whole tumbler of a great wine was workingspells. What Miss Cass really meant was that she would love to be the daughter of a marquis.
Elfreda deplored her taste and sighed for her innocence. “Think how bored you’d be to learn a long and stupid part—so that you were simply word perfect in it.”
“I should just love it.” Miss Cass grew enthusiastic at the thought. “If I could also be the daughter of a marquis” was the major part of that thought, which, however, she did not put into words. But those fatal eyes of hers, in which her soul dwelt, put it into words for her.
Elfreda smiled pityingly. How little she knew!
“By the way, you come from Laxton?”
“Yes, but this morning I gave up my rooms there. So I’ve got no home now.”
“It happens that this stupid play is called ‘The Lady of Laxton.’”
“There are very few real ladies in Laxton,” said the student ofThe Patricianin a burst of candor.
“So one would think if this play is at all true to life,” rose to the lips of Elfreda, but she did not allow it to escape.
What she did say was, “The plot of this play is that a governess and a peer’s daughter arriving at a place in the country by the same train get mixed up. The governess goes off with the other girl’s luggage as a guest to one house and the peer’s daughter finds herself taken for a governess at the other.”
“But what a splendid idea!”
“Do you really think so?” The daughter of the marquis opened incredulous eyes. “In the first place, it could never have happened.”
“Oh, I think it might have happened—but of course it would have been found out at once.”
“As a matter of fact, the author gets over that part rather well. It seems they arranged the matter beforehand because the peer’s daughter wanted to teach some snobs a lesson.”
“But it’s splendid!” Miss Cass clapped her hands with enthusiasm—the Devilwasin the wine. “And, of course, the son at the smart house proposes to the governess thinking she’s the peer’s daughter and vice versa.”
“Howwereyou able to guess that?”
Miss Cass had been able to guess that because theSaturday Sentinelsaid she had insight. But modesty, of course, forbade her to say that to Lady Elfreda, who was looking at her now with an intentness greater and more curious than she had ever noticed in any human countenance.
Of what was she thinking, the daughter of the marquis? The mind of Miss Cass could not stop to inquire. For that deep, delicious voice, that seemed to treat each individual syllable of the English language as a work of art, was saying: “As a matter of fact, that is what happens in the play, but it is all so extraordinarily stupid that one simply loathes——”
The stern critic had suddenly caught the look of pain in the eyes of the lady opposite. Then it was she realized that to some minds the situation itself and even the vulgarly obvious working out of it might not be intolerable.