XX
Girliecould only gasp. Elfreda’s speech in its frigid nonchalance was stupefying. More fully than ever did she realize that she was in the toils of an Evil Genius. This girl, this amazing girl, had a will of iron. She was growing positively afraid of her.
It was all very well for Lady Elfreda Catkin to issue an ukase, but it was not she who would have to foot the bill. She was a person of importance, she had powerful friends, her position was secure. No matter how deep and angry the waters, no matter how menacing the sky, she belonged to the class that was able to weather the most violent storms. But for the Girlie Casses of the planet it was a very different matter. What for the one might be nothing more than a new and original, if rather perilous, form of entertainment, for the other might mean the end of all things.
Girlie’s mind was a chaos as her scared eyes met the implacable ones that were fixed on hers. General damnation was their only portent. She knew she was done for, anyway. It was but a question of putting off the evil day. But if she bolted now she would at least save herself from being publicly found out, whereas if she waited for the inevitable exposure there was no saying what might happen to her.
“Oh, but I daren’t let him propose—I simply daren’t.”
Elfreda harshly told her not to be foolish.
“But—-!” Girlie knew only too well that her wriggles were miserably inadequate. And in the midst of them yet another complication presented itself. She remembered that there might be two Richmonds in the field. Signs had not been wanting that the little baronet also was inclined to view her with a favorable eye. Certain cadences of his voice lingered in her ears even now. There seemed but one thing to do. As one seeking the aid of a strength beyond her own she confessed to Elfreda that Sir Toby Philpot also might be on the verge of a proposal.
To this admission Elfreda did not immediately reply. But with that pitiless glance that had the power of striking far below the surface of things, she looked at the Deputy. Was this the kind of little idiot who believes that every man who smiles as he opens a door is in love with her, or was it literally true that at Clavering Park she wasun succès fou? Elfreda continued to analyze her mercilessly. Yes, in her way, she was undoubtedly a pretty little thing. And the half-scared manner and the timid voice made her rather a plaintive, rather a pathetic little thing, so that after all it would not be so very remarkable if she made a strong appeal to the male. At the same time, the idea of her playing such havoc was ludicrous and, from Elfreda’s own private standpoint, more than a little humiliating.
Here was the richest possible commentary on the sort of people whom her own parents considered good enough for her. Had fuel been needed to sustain Elfreda’s fighting spirit it was here in abundance. If only for pure devilment now she would go on with the farce. An odd sparkle in her eyes must have proclaimed her intention, for at the mere sight of it the hapless Deputy gave one further gasp.
“Oh, please—please, do come back with me and put things right!”
Girlie would have done as well to have appealed to a stone. “No, not yet.” There was not a hint of compromise. “You must keep it up—until after Tuesday at any rate. I will come to you one day next week, perhaps Wednesday or Thursday. And if you will do your best and stand it as well as you can, no harm shall come to you. I promise that.”
It was meager comfort. But to judge by Elfreda’s eyes there was no hope just then of anything else. Be the cost what it might her decision was made. Poor Girlie clung for support to an arm of the sofa. Sheer beneath her feet yawned a chasm.
As if to intensify this grim illusion Mrs. Trenchard-Simpson chose that moment to return to the drawing room. Her return, moreover, was fraught with purpose. “Lady Elfreda.” So flutelike was the lady of the house that the new governess could not help wondering privately how her voice would have sounded atthe Queen’s Hall!—“Won’t you stay to luncheon? We shall besoglad if you will.”
The answer of the distinguished visitor was to regard the new governess with a scared and apprehensive eye. But that lady was quite equal to the situation. She turned to Mrs. Trenchard-Simpson and said with a kind of frigid decision that forbade any possible doubt, “Lady Elfreda is expected for luncheon at Clavering Park.”
Thereupon, in a manner that left no loophole for argument, Miss Cass moved to the drawing room door and opened it. As her eyes drew Girlie towards it they seemed full of a latent menace. The visitor was just able to muster a half audible “Good-by. Thank you so much,” for the benefit of Mrs. Trenchard-Simpson, before she was sternly shepherded if not actually hustled by Elfreda across the hall.
“Do your best. Don’t be afraid. I will let you know the day I can come next week. And remember that I take all responsibility.” Amid this spate of final low-toned instructions poor Girlie was put out on to the gravel and the front door of The Laurels closed rather peremptorily upon her.
From behind the drawing room curtains Mrs. Trenchard-Simpson watched the slight form of the visitor fade from view along the carriage drive. A tempest raged in the bosom of the lady of the house. If the manner of Miss Cass meant anything she looked down upon her employer; her arbitrary dismissal ofthe luncheon project could bear no other interpretation. However, the fury of the storm was a little assuaged by a wholesome curiosity; otherwise it might have gone hard with Miss Cass. Not only was that amazing person called upon by the aristocracy, but her attitude towards it was that of one who claims a half scornful equality. She had no more respect for Lady Elfreda Catkin than she had for any one else!
There was balm in that thought. For several days past Mrs. Trenchard-Simpson had been at the point of telling the new governess that she would not suit, and of advertising for some one else. Indeed, for the sake of General Norris and dear Dolores, she had been obliged to ask Miss Cass to dine upstairs. But even now Mrs. Trenchard-Simpson could not quite bring herself to give that lady notice. She was far too interesting; in fact a type of governess altogether new in her present employer’s rather chequered experience. The children hated her, but she might be good for them. She would be able to teach them self-assurance.
Taking one consideration with another, Mrs. Trenchard-Simpson still shrank from the drastic step of giving Miss Cass her congé. She would wait, at any rate, until she had told the story to Dolores. Whether she would take the advice of Dolores and get rid of her, that, of course, was the point to decide. Poor dear Dolores loathed Miss Cass.