XXVIII
Bythe powers that obtained in the drawing room the point was much debated whether Miss Cass could or could not be allowed to accompany the children on Tuesday afternoon to the Assembly Rooms. There was much to be said both “for” and “against.” Had it been left to Miss Parbury to decide the question “the againsts” would have had it easily. She disliked Miss Cass with a concentration that was almost terrible. Mrs. Trenchard-Simpson had come to dislike her also with an almost equal intensity, but in her case natural feelings were tempered by political considerations.
In the first place Mrs. Trenchard-Simpson had taken six tickets for the performance of “The Lady of Laxton” and these included one for Miss Cass. It was now proposed that Colonel Trenchard-Simpson should occupy a stall in her stead, but it seemed that he had important business on Tuesday afternoon; besides, as he said, “he was blowed if he fancied sitting up amongst half the old Tabbies in the county.”
This strengthened the hand of the “fors” considerably, but in the end that which really gained the day for Miss Cass may have been her boasted acquaintance with the Lancelots and above all, her singular intimacy with the star artiste, Lady Elfreda Catkin. GeneralNorris also may indirectly have brought a certain amount of pressure to bear, because right up till Tuesday at breakfast when it was announced that the “fors” definitely had it, he was uncertain whether his leg, which for several days past had been “throbbing,” would allow him to attend the performance of the “Lady of Laxton.”
Strange as it may seem, as soon as the decision went finally in favor of Miss Cass “the throbbing” grew much less and General Norris felt he would be able to undertake the journey into Clavering.
As far as it went, all this was very well, but when the gracious decision was communicated to Miss Cass, that perverse lady felt she would have much preferred to stay at home. Happily she did not say so to Mrs. Trenchard-Simpson, but as she considered the problem over an irritating and inadequate early luncheon in the schoolroom, with Miss Joan one side of her and Master Peter the other, she came within an ace of flatly refusing to go.
Her charges were not entirely responsible for Miss Cass’s frame of mind. It is true that ten days of intimacy with their ways had caused their governess to dislike them more cordially than she had ever thought it possible to dislike any human beings, but there were other reasons. The choicest scene in the comedy was at hand, but she was by no means sure that she had not lost her taste for it now.
A régime of underfeeding and solitude may haveshaken her nerve a little. Her appetite for adventure may have lost something of its edge. Still, such an opportunity to see yourself as others see you was an all-potent lure, and even if she was going to be revolted by the spectacle, as most likely would prove to be the case, it would at least help to relieve a tedium that was becoming intolerable. Besides she was not one to funk the last fence even at the end of a most punishing day.
As the day was fine and there was only a limited amount of accommodation in the family chariot, Mrs. Trenchard-Simpson decreed that the children should walk with their governess to the Assembly Rooms. The distance was rather more than a mile, and in the course of the journey Elfreda was able to indulge in a little constructive thinking.
She could not forget that she was now faced with the footing of the bill. In the course of the next day or so it would have to be met. She had made a definite promise to Miss Cass to declare the true state of affairs and shoulder the entire responsibility. There would be the devil to pay all round. Her father would be furious, her mother would never forgive her, but having the natural temperament of a fighter she was not afraid of either. Besides, she consoled herself with the thought that it served them right. It might teach them not to be quite so cynical in arranging other people’s lives.
There was a place, however, where she now perceivedthe shoe was going to pinch. She had just discovered that she was in love with General Norris. Had she been quite honest with herself she would have made that discovery on the very evening of her arrival. Looking back across the expanse of fantastic difficulties in which she had landed herself, she saw that it was General Norris who had supplied the motive power from day to day. Without the charm of that most alluring personality she would never have been able “to stick it.” Life as they lived it at The Laurels would have defeated her after one irksome and humiliating twenty-four hours.
A hardened sinner, she was wholly unrepentant. Quite a number of undesirable people had been gorgeously “scored off.” It was not a case for regrets on their account, but as, flanked by Miss Joan and Master Peter on either hand, she trudged resolutely into Clavering to witness the climax of her audacity at the Assembly Rooms and proceeded to draw up a kind of moral balance sheet as she did so, she realized pretty clearly that there was one item in it that must throw a considerable strain on her resources. She was in love with George Norris. And, still worse, he was in love with her.
Readers of Thackeray will not need to be told that the Clavering Assembly Rooms are in the High Street, which is the second turn on the left when you have crossed the charming little bridge over the River Morwen. On arrival Miss Cass and her charges foundthey had a few minutes to spare, as the performance was not announced to begin until half-past two. All the same the press of carriages in the High Street was considerable. In fact, it might almost be said to amount to congestion.
The performance for the first time on any stage of “The Lady of Laxton,” by Sir Toby Philpot, Bart., was under such distinguished auspices that it was recognized locally as quite a function. For a full quarter of an hour before the curtain went up the weirdest of vehicles with the weirdest of occupants—how they would have delighted the heart of Michael Angelo Titmarsh, Esquire!—streamed incessantly into the High Street. They were so many, so various, so infrequently seen that even Mr. Shuker, the dealer in antiques whose shop was next door to the Assembly Rooms, who was the recognized local authority on “The County,” was almost if not quite defeated by such an array. Had it been humanly possible for The County to baffle Mr. Shuker, on this historical occasion Mr. Shuker would have been baffled undoubtedly.
For instance, that closed one-horse brougham whose lozenged panel displayed a couchant lion and a rampant unicorn with the simple but appropriate motto Festina Lente was—well, never mind who. There really isn’t time just now to go fully into the matter. The Armistice is hardly more than a fortnight old, you know. But you may take it, my dear Titmarsh, our friend Mr. Shuker could have told you.
Elfreda, holding her charges by the hand, passed resolutely up the three steps into the vestibule and mingled with the throng. And what a throng! She seemed to have known these funny people all her life. Surely that old thing in the Victorian bonnet was bowing to her. Could it be old Lady S.? An antique voice level with her right ear was saying with its curious drawl, “My brother Alec was at Eton with her father.” Into her left ear a voice very similar was saying, “The dear Duke, I suppose, would be her grandfather.” And at the back a third voice remarked, “The youngest of six, I believe, but they have all married well. A very gifted family.”
It was a relief to Elfreda’s feelings when she got through the crowd into the hall itself. The platform embellished with footlights and a drop curtain had been transformed into a stage. So great was the flux of grandees from miles around that the party from The Laurels had been relegated to the back row of the stalls. Mrs. Trenchard-Simpson saw in this circumstance one more subtle affront to her social position; all the same the family chariot had arrived a clear five minutes before Miss Cass, Master Peter and Miss Joan because, as Mrs. Trenchard-Simpson shrewdly observed to Miss Parbury and General Norris, “the people were likely to be more amusing than the performance.”
In a sense, this prophecy was strikingly borne out. The performance, at any rate in its early phases, promisedvery little in the way of amusement. The playitself was almost unbelievably infantile, but this would not have mattered had not the acting been at the same level. Hardly had the curtain been up five minutes before it was clear that the patience of the audience was going to be sorely tried.
By that time, it was fully realized “behind” that they were “for it.” The brief opening scene between a couple of comic servants, although calling for liberal prompts from the indefatigable Mr. Jupp, really passed off very well; but its defect was, as the candid critic of theDramatic Pictorialwas not slow to inform the author, it didn’t last long enough. The action of the play really began with the entrance of Sir Toby himself and with it began the trouble. The little baronet, of course, had cast himself for the part of the hero; it was only human that he should do so, but nature having endowed him with very few inches, a voice so loud as to verge upon the uncanny and an aggressiveness of manner which a certain amount of stage nervousness served rather cruelly to accentuate, those skilled in the signs began to fear the worst, even before the worst had happened.
When the time came for the entrance of Lady Elfreda it was painfully realized, not by her fellow players merely, but by their friends in front, that upon her frail shoulders the whole weight of the play would rest. Unfortunately the house was not composed exclusively of the polite public of the stalls; a less polite,a more general public was herded in other parts of the building. There was a liberal sprinkling of outspoken warriors in khaki and hospital blue. From the beginning they had been inclined “to guy” Sir Toby.
It was a terribly anxious moment when the heroine came on. All felt her entrance to be the crux of the play. According to the dramatist’s instructions she had to greet Lord Longacre rapturously as an old and dear friend. But even Mr. Montagu Jupp had doubts as to whether the leading lady would be able to achieve rapture. Had that man of infinite wisdom but known it, the problem for poor Girlie was whether the leading lady would be able to come on at all.
By the time an expert, who had come from London for the purpose, had duly painted her face and penciled her eyebrows and the call boy had announced that the curtain was up, she had to muster the courage to enter the wings and await her “cue.” She never knew how she was able to accomplish this. In point of fact she was in such a state of nerves that it was only the personal intervention of Mr. Jupp which saved her from coming upon the scene a full two minutes too soon.
When at last she did come on, partly by her own volition and partly propelled by Mr. Jupp, she was received with a special round of applause. It was thoroughly well meant, because everyone in the house understood how much depended upon her, and there is nothing like encouragement. But, alas, as far as Girliewas concerned, the effect of that round of applause was paralyzing. Somehow it seemed to complete the grisly process of her undoing.
Standing stock still and looking ready to faint, not a word crossed her lips. Sir Toby, however, in response to instructions, whispered sternly from the wings, crossed the stage heroically and grasped her by the hand. Another long moment of petrified silence followed and then he led her to a chair. Girlie, hardly conscious that the eyes of a bewildered and resentful audience were fixed upon her, sank down overcome by guilt, terror and exhaustion.