VII
Allthe same, Miss Cass was by no means ready to welcome the end of the journey even when it came. The first rather abrupt intimation that her destination had been reached was a brief stopping at the lodge gates of Clavering Park, followed a few minutes later by a flare of lights from a large, wide-fronted house. Then came the epic moment of the tall footman opening the omnibus door, the descent of her traveling companions and the obvious need for her own.
Immense courage was called for to quit that comfortable corner, but with an effort which in the circumstances seemed superhuman Girlie took the plunge. After being gracefully assisted from the omnibus by Sir Toby she moved without apparent impulse or volition of her own into a wide zone of light. The next thing she realized was that she had arrived in a large, bright inner hall that was terrifyingly full of people. For the most part these were seated on chairs and sofas in groups of two and three, consuming afternoon tea and talking at what seemed to be the top of very loud voices.
A large, fair-haired woman of forty or so, with the look of a rather overblown yellow chrysanthemum, suddenly detached herself from the center of thethrong, literally sprang at Miss Cass and welcomed her with the greatest effusion.
“So nice of you to come! Such a pleasure to see you! So good of you to come all the way down here!”
Girlie realized that she was in the grip of the voluble and demonstrative mistress of Clavering Park.
“You have made friends with Sir Toby already, of course?”
The little man answered brightly that they had made friends already. Other brief and swift introductions followed, but Miss Cass made no effort to catch the names and she shyly avoided the eyes of these favored ones. And then said the hostess with delightful urgency, “Do let me give you some tea.”
Almost as if by magic a passage was found to a table in the middle of the hall. As the important guest moved forward with the hostess the conversation abruptly stopped. Girlie felt that every eye was upon her fur coat, yet somehow the sensation was not unpleasant. There were more brief introductions en route. And then at last she was safely anchored in a very seductive low chair and the conversation had begun again with a redoubled violence.
“So sporting of you to come and help us!”
Girlie was soon aware that there was no immediate need for her to say anything; the hostess and those around her were abundantly equipped with small talk.
“This tea is quite fresh. Milk and sugar?”
Girlie’s tongue declined to act, but somehow she wasable to muster a hoarse whisper which the hostess interpreted as “Yes, please.”
Tea gave Girlie a little courage. A spasmodic warmth began to flicker in her gray eyes.
“Do have some more.” The voice was kindness itself. “And then if you would like to rest a little after your long and tiresome journey you shall go up to your room.”
Nothing could have been nicer, easier or more amiable. For all her excitement, which seemed to be breaking in burning waves round her head and ears, Girlie was able to do ample justice to her tea and cake; she even continued to listen with a kind of gratitude to the prattle of the yellow chrysanthemum lady, who was obviously a very good sort.
“We feel quite honored, you know, at having you here. Sir Toby says you are to be advertised as our principal star on the play bills. So awfully clever of you to act in the way you do. I am sure you will be a great draw. And such a good cause. Do have some more tea, won’t you?”
The curiously shy and timid Lady Elfreda was not averse from even a third cup of tea.
“One hears that you are simply wonderful as Lady Henrietta in the Duke of Killiecrankie. TheSociety Pictorialsays you have genius, although”—Girlie suddenly felt the eyes of the hostess fixed intently upon her—“you don’t look much like your photograph. Do have another piece of tea-cake.”
Girlie had never heard prattle sound quite so agreeable. She began to take very kindly to her surroundings. At the back of her mind, it was true, the sense of the unreal was almost grisly. But the immediate present in which she was living was strangely like a dream, although touched with sinister edges that might develop into a nightmare at any moment. Still, a low cushioned chair, three cups of tea and the eager, the almost too eager kindness of the hostess were for the time being an anodyne for the fear that hovered like doom in the background.
“Dinner is not until a quarter past eight, so that if you would like a little rest you shall go to your room.” The yellow chrysanthemum lady glanced half-maternally at the small peaked face. “If you like, I will show you the way.”
Girlie was most comfortable as she was, but instinct told her that it would be wise to end the present phase of the dream, which was so seductive, and prepare to envisage some of the stern realities that were undoubtedly lurking near at hand.
“I think I will please—if you don’t mind.” Those were the first words Girlie found the courage to speak in her capacity of a marquis’ daughter. For an instant the sound of her own voice, pitched rather higher than was quite natural, seemed to leave her half paralyzed with her own audacity.
Happily the hostess, whose name she didn’t know, was very much a get-things-done sort of lady. “Verywell, you shall.” She rose from her chair with genial authority. “You will be all the better for an hour’s rest after such a trying journey.”
Girlie got up, too. A considerable effort was needed, but she was able to make it. The mistress of the house piloted the distinguished guest past tables and chairs, through the press of people, of whose glances of covert curiosity she was keenly aware, as far as the staircase paneled in black oak at the end of the hall. They went up together side by side, but Girlie was terribly conscious now at every step she took that she was moving out of fairyland into a country of extreme peril whose nature she simply dare not define.
“I hope you will like your room.” The delightfully kind yellow chrysanthemum lady prattled on all the way up the stairs. “South aspect, overlooking the park. We call it the chamber of honor. King Edward used to sleep in it when he came down here for the races, although, of course,wehadn’t the place then.”
“Oh, I am sure I shall like it,” Girlie managed to say, but again in that odd high-pitched voice which sounded so strange to her own ears.
They turned into a corridor carpeted in blue velvet and the hostess opened a door at the end of it. She led the way into the most spaciously beautiful bedroom Girlie had ever seen. Its size seemed to her quite extraordinary. It was hung in deep crimson and its furniture was Louis Seize. A bright wood fire was crackling on the wide hearth. But, perhaps, what most immediatelyimpressed Miss Cass was the fact that Pikey was busily unpacking the boxes of her mistress, several of whose dresses had already been laid out on the bed.
“Here you are, Lady Elfreda.” The voice of the yellow chrysanthemum lady sounded disconcertingly loud as they entered the room. “I do hope you will be comfortable. Your bathroom is through that door. I see your maid is unpacking your things.” And then to the kneeling and assiduous Pikey, “Have you all that you want?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Pikey, looking up for one brief instant only.
“If there is anything else you’d like youwillask for it, won’t you?” The hostess bestowed a final benediction on the most important of her guests. “You will be able to have a nice rest before dinner. Not until a quarter past eight ... I think I told you.” With a last gush of kindliness the yellow chrysanthemum lady departed, leaving Girlie Cass to deal with a reality that was rapidly growing stupendous.
For two minutes at least after the hostess had gone silence reigned in the room. Pikey continued her unpacking, still wholly absorbed by her task, while Girlie began to make frantic efforts to emerge completely from her dream and grapple with a situation that had suddenly grown altogether beyond her.
There was the authority of the mistress of Clavering Park that she was Lady Elfreda Catkin, that the bedroom of the late King Edward had been placed at herdisposal, and that before her eyes her own maid was unpacking her boxes. So far, so good. Everything was for the best in the best of all possible worlds, no doubt ... but!...!