XLV
Girlie, in the meantime, had gone to ground in King Edward’s bedroom. The public eye was no place for her. All she asked now, if so much was permitted her, was to retire permanently into private life. She even cherished the modest hope that she might be allowed to make her escape from that house by the first train in the morning.
Shivering at her thoughts over the recently lighted bedroom fire, her faith was still pinned upon Lady Elfreda. It was a much-tired, a sorely-shattered faith, but it was now her only stand-by. The task would devolve upon Lady Elfreda of convincing Mrs. Minever and the others that her Deputy was really not “an adventuress” at all, or any kind of criminal in disguise, but the well educated daughter of a solicitor, who, no matter what her folly, was quite incapable of theft.
It was a horrid position for a budding Charlotte Brontë to occupy. As she viewed in perspective the eleven epic days she had contrived to live through since leaving London she could but marvel at herself. Oh, why had she ever embarked on this maddest of schemes! Her place was lost, her character was lost, she had used abominably a man who had gained heradmiration and respect, whom she would have found it very easy to love. Never again could she hold up her head, not even if Lady Elfreda was able to satisfy the police that her Deputy was a reasonably innocent member of society!
Shivering over the logs as they spluttered to a reluctant heat, Girlie had never felt so low and miserable in her life. Remorse was whipping her severely. Ruin stared her in the face. Whatever would become of her! A hopeless future loomed ahead. No ray of hope was visible. Her mad enterprise had ended in the only way it could have done.
Soon after the clock had struck seven Girlie, fathoms deep in gloom, was startled by the entrance of Lady Elfreda. By now the poor Deputy had begun to feel a profound dislike of this cynical girl who had involved her in ruin. Howbeit, she still found it difficult not to admire her. Such assurance, such decision, such competence, such spirit were marvelous. She seemed to have every attribute of a She Napoleon.
“Where’s that stupid old Pikey?” she said. In her manner of pressing the bell Girlie felt there was something magnificent. “She ought to be here rooting me out some clothes for this evening.”
“I suppose,” said Girlie dismally, yet heroically suppressing her tears, “I must leave this room now.”
“Oh, no.” There was a regal indifference to the room even if it was King Edward’s. “There’s one next door will do for me. But I must have somethingto put on this evening.” She pressed the bell again just as Pikey entered, half truculent, half scared.
Girlie was still in awe of the Werewolf. Even the partial collapse of Pikey under the stress of events did not allow the Deputy to get on terms with her. But Elfreda’s method of handling the creature was almost an education. In the sight of her lawful charge she counted for rather less than nobody.
“Pikey, what am I to wear this evening?” At the moment this was the question of questions for Elfreda.
“There’s nothing you can wear,” Pikey muttered dismally.
“Nothing? Don’t be absurd. I know you packed at least five evening dresses.”
Pikey flashed a savage glance at Miss Cass.
“She’sworn them all,” said Pikey in a tone of shameful confession.
“Of course. Why not?” said a very polite and very prompt Elfreda. No one likes other people wearing one’s clothes, but Pikey’s implication that their patrician owner would never be able to use them again was a little too much. It was one more barb for Miss No-Class.
Elfreda, however, with a woman’s understanding of the case did her best to soften it. She was the soul of tact and she was quite charming to Miss Cass.
“Please choose the one you like best for this evening.” Her winning grace brought back to poorGirlie’s mind their never-to-be-forgotten journey from London.
Girlie declined the offer with tears.
“I—I c-couldn’t think of going down to dinner this evening,” she said with a little shiver.
“But, of course, you are going down to dinner.” Napoleon—Hannibal—Etc.; the sinister cycle of their first meeting was being enacted again.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t—I really couldn’t—I could never face them all!”
“But of course you will.” Each slow syllable of the Evil Genius seemed to burn itself in Girlie’s heart. “If you don’t play up now you will spoil everything.”
Girlie shuddered. She fought against her tears. “I—I am ruined and disgraced. I—I don’t know whatever will become of me.”
“I don’t either,” Elfreda grimly agreed, “if you let go now.”
With the power of will that made her so formidable Elfreda ordered Pikey to lay out Madame Lucile’s new pink dress for Miss Cass.
“That is the one I think. It goes perfectly with your coloring. You must let Pikey do your hair. And you shall have my nicest necklace.”
At the word “necklace” Girlie shuddered again. The prison gates loomed before her eyes.
“And you shall have my new Pinet slippers if they’ll fit you. Now do be sensible. This evening you must simply play up for all you are worth.”
It was all very well, but nature has set a limit to what flesh and blood can endure. Stage fright had once more fixed its talons on Girlie. “Oh, no, I can’t face them to-night,” she said miserably.
She was reckoning, however, without the dæmonic force that encompassed her. Its power over weak vessels was truly remarkable. And among these Pikey was foremost. The Werewolf, after all, was no more than a lath painted to look like iron and none knew that quite so well as her mistress. She ordered the disgruntled old woman about with the genial arrogance she might have bestowed on a favorite dog. And Pikey, mumbling under her breath, was only too ready to do her bidding
As for Miss Cass, she found herself in the midst of her toilet before she could quite realize what was taking place. Elfreda superintended it. “Yes, the pink one, Pikey. And those stockings, I think.”
As ever, she was curiously impersonal but her taste was sure, she could bring her mind down to details and it was inflexible. Miss Cass was clay in her hands. Yet even now there was just one matter in which the unfortunate Deputy was able to muster a mind of her own. She insisted that no alien fingers should touch her hair.
“Better let Pikey, hadn’t you? She’s used to hair. She’s really rather clever with it.”
Here it was, however, that Miss Cass made her stand. She took the terrible, long-handled brushgently but firmly from Pikey’s grasp. “I am used to doing it myself—I am really.”
Pikey’s sniff of disdain confirmed that statement. Elfreda was loth to yield the point, but time was fleeting. And Miss Cass, hairbrush in hand, was displaying such skill that it seemed vain to contest it.
“Perhaps you had better come and give me a hand, Pikey.”
With a devout sense of thankfulness Girlie watched mistress and maid retire to the room next door.