XLII
BILL looked a peach in his Guards’ tie, when at a quarter past one he was discovered among the ferns at the Ritz. Mame had no wish to be unduly set up with herself; nay she was too wise ever to be so, but there was a happy sense which informed her that she was some advertisement for the new dressmaker Gwympe. Right up to the knocker. Right up to the nines. Everything just so. Since she had gone to live at Half Moon Street she had developed taste in clothes. The neat coat frock of navy blue gabardine was the last word in style; the same applied to the dinky little hat of black velvet.
A good world, thought Mame, and Bill thought so too, as they ate a delicate but expensive luncheon. And then at their leisure they crossed the road and sauntered down a famous street as far as a famous jeweller’s, where the ring was duly chosen. Being a marquis, Bill was rather a believer in doing things well. The ring was therefore no half-and-half affair, but the last cry of fashion, wonderfully devised of small pearls and diamonds. It cost, no doubt, a pretty figure. What the exact sum was remained a secret between Bill and the jeweller; and there was no happier girl than Mame in the whole of London, when with that token glitteringon her finger she and her affianced sought again the air of Bond Street.
They strolled down Piccadilly. In their glossy elegance, surmounted by faces of healthy Scottish tan, they were decidedly good to look at. Many sympathetic glances were directed upon them by the passers-by. Some people consider that taking one day with another there is a greater pressure of really good-looking people to the square yard in that gentle declivity which ends at Hyde Park Corner than in any stretch of equal length on the wide earth. The type of beauty there represented is so honest, so upstanding, so cheerfully simple yet so immaculately dressed. Bill and his young lady did no dishonour to Piccadilly north side; and had they had eyes for aught but each other they might have learned how much they were admired.
In point of fact Mame did happen to catch the eye of one little girl remarkably like herself of a few short months ago, who with her satchel containing heaven knew what secret ambitions, was on her way back to her work. She was a resolute and plucky bit of a thing, withal a little peaked and pale, a little tired and a little bored; and there was more than mere admiration in the glance which envisaged Mame, her clothes, and her escort. There was a wistful envy.
Yes, honey, thought Mame complacently, you do well to envy me. Just now I am the happiest girl in London. It all seems too good to be true. I feel sure there must be a catch in it somewhere. But the glow of feeling continued as far as the Park gates, where they turnedin, and the day being wonderfully bright and mild, as it often is in England towards the middle of September, they sat on garden chairs for two solid hours at a point equi-distant between the Achilles Statue and Knightsbridge Barracks where the Pinks were now in residence.
Those two hours of prattling to Bill and of Bill prattling to her Mame never forgot. Her sense of everything seemed to grow richer and deeper. Wasn’t it Hamlet or some other wise guy who had put it over in the office calendar that heaven and earth held more things than he dreamed of? That was exactly how Mame felt now. She could hardly believe that she herself was she. Was this the little hick who a year ago had hardly been ten miles away from Cowbarn, Iowa, in all her young life? Was this the little mucker New York had laughed at? She was far too practical to believe in fairies, but she could not deny the feeling that a spell was at work.
Bill was charming to sit by and talk to. He made not the slightest pretence of being a highbrow. Out of doors was his special hobby; an easy-going sportsman was what he looked and that sure was what he was. They discussed the immediate future; wondered when and how and where they should tie the knot and so on. “I’ll nip along to the Button Club presently—the box with the windows we passed just now—and write a line to my mother. You haven’t met her yet, have you? She’s a great dear, she really is, even if she does live all the year round in Shropshire. I’ll tell her we want to get married as soon as we can. Andas we are both quiet, homely sort of birds we sha’n’t want much in the way of a wedding.”
Mame was all in favour. No doubt some of the folks would want to be there. But the quieter the better. She was never one for display. And when Bill declared he would not mind how soon they were “spliced,” with this also she was in cordial agreement.
These were moments of real happiness. And yet, and yet, there was just one moment of swords. After they had sat a full two hours on the garden chairs, absorbed in the contemplation of each other and their future plans, they got up and made a move in the direction of tea. It could be purchased and consumed in an open-air enclosure thoughtfully provided by the London County Council. They were in the act of crossing the park’s central artery when Mame’s eye was caught by a gently gliding limousine. It was a wonderful dingus, the latest word, with chauffeur and footman whose liveries matched the peerless machine. Two ladies were seated inside. Both, however, appeared to be gazing ostentatiously in another direction.
“Say, look, honey. Gwendolen Childwick. Is that her Mommer?”
Bill’s answer was a rather amused but quite indifferent yes. “Mommer carries a bit of sail, I always think. Some of these Fifth Avenue queens do, they say.”
“Very rich, I suppose.” Mame had an odd fluttering of the nerves for which she couldn’t quite account.
“I forget how many millions of dollars. But something pretty tall.”
“Well, they needn’t treat us as if we were just dirt.”
“Didn’t see us.” Bill took an obvious and common-sense view of a quite trivial incident.
“No, they just didn’t,” Mame showed venom. “But I guess they’d have seenyousoon enough if I hadn’t been with you.”
In the particular circumstances it was not a very judicious thing to have said. But even Mdlle. L’Espinasse may nod on occasion. Not, of course, that it really mattered. Bill seemed absolutely indifferent. If one happens to be an old-established British marquis one is apt to take things as they come. Not his to reason why Gwendolen and her mamma looked pointedly in an opposite direction.
Bill calmly brushed the incident aside. But Mame lacked something of his detachment. Her gaiety grew suddenly less. That glimpse of Gwendolen seemed to cast a shadow over the rosy prospect. Why it should do so Mame did not know. What was Miss Three Ply Flannelette and all her millions of dollars to either of them now?
Still there was no denying that the cup of tea did not taste so good as Mame had expected. Perhaps it was that a faint cloud had crossed the sun of her great happiness, although so far as the September blue was concerned, hardly a puff was visible. Yet, in spite of the glory of the day, a touch of autumn began to steal upon the air.
They didn’t sit long over their tea. Mame felt induty bound to return to the day’s rather neglected work. Bill, moreover, had a very important letter to write to his mother. But they continued to enjoy each other’s company all the way back along Rotten Row and up by Hamilton Place, where Bill, after duly making an appointment at the same highly convenient spot for the morrow, entered the Button Club to do the deed.
Mame walked slowly along to Half Moon Street. For some reason she was feeling more anxious, more excited than she cared about when she entered the flat. She shed her gloves and took off her hat. And then she went into the small room in which most of their work was done and resolutely confronted the typewriter.
Violet had not yet come in. This was fortunate. Mame felt in need of a respite in which to collect her thoughts. For the hour was at hand when the dramatic announcement must be made. Violet would have to know. And she had better know now.
There was really no reason, Mame argued with her somewhat fluttered self, why she should worry. It was not as if she had been guilty of anything dishonourable. Violet was not going to like it, of course. Beyond a doubt she had set her heart on Bill marrying Gwendolen Childwick. Still that was merely a question of Gwendolen’s dollars. Bill obviously did not want to marry mere dollars. So from that point of view it was doing him a simple kindness to save him from that fate. Dollars are not everything. Besides, as one of the johns in the office calendar had explicitly stated, Inlove and war all is fair. Even if Bill’s sister took it amiss, Mame felt she need not reproach herself.
Clucking away at the typewriter, she hardened her heart. The time was now. It was her duty to break the news before the world was a day older.
While she nursed this growing resolution she heard the front door open. And then came Violet’s light but decided step in the hall. A minute later when she came into the room she lacked nothing of that genial insouciance which Mame so much admired. But as Mame glanced up she was a little chilled by her eyes. The absence of real friendliness, which once had verged on affection, was now complete.
“Where have you been to, my pretty maid?” The question was humorously put. Had Violet been dying it would still have been a point of honour with her to put things humorously.
“Getting engaged to be mar-ri-ed, please m’m, she said.” The retort was quick. It was also bold. Mame was wise enough to appreciate that this particular bull would have to be taken by the horns.
Violet was startled. It was not a bit of use dissembling: she was really startled. Mame, besides, once she had begun upon the cold drawn truth was no believer in half measures. She lifted her left hand from the typewriter and flashed its new brilliancy before the astonished eyes of her questioner.
“How beautiful!” There was nothing in the gay voice to betray anxiety; all the same a slight change of colour rather gave Bill’s sister away. “My dear, youhave told me nothing of this.” Mame could not help admiring her friend’s fortitude. “Tell me, who is the happy man?”
“Mean to say you can’t guess?” Each syllable expressed incredulity.
“How should one?”
Violet kept up the game pretty well, but the note of innocence was pitched just a shade high. Evidently she felt it necessary to play for time.
“Aw, shucks, honey. Cut it out.” In the stress of pure emotion Mame had a sudden relapse to the primitive manner of her fathers. “Who do you think it can be? The Prince of Wales?”
Violet’s heart was sinking, sinking, but she contrived to keep up the farce. “Not a ghost of an idea.”
“Take three guesses.”
But Violet only took one. “You don’t mean to say, you....”
All pretence was at an end. Bill’s sister spoke with a slow reproachfulness that caused Mame to feel decidedly uncomfortable. But she determined to put the best face she could on the matter. “Why not?” she laughed. “Do you blame me?”
“Blame you!” The note in the disciplined voice sounded odd. Violet’s face and tone hardened in a way that Mame found rather alarming. “What you really deserve is a thorough good beating.”
For one vital moment it looked as if this really was going to be a case of teeth and claws. But of a sudden Violet took herself strongly in hand.
Never in her life had it been so difficult for Violet to wear the mask of indifference. She would have liked to have killed this marauder. But in her heart she knew that she herself was almost wholly responsible for a tragic situation. She had been properly punished for the levity of her approach to certain conventions. How could she have been paid out better for playing the fool?
However, this was not a moment for self-castigation. She must act. The matter was so horribly serious that it hardly bore thinking about. All the tact, all the diplomacy she could muster had now to be brought into play.
A trying pause threatened to intensify the awkwardness of things. And then said Violet in a tone that would keep hardening in spite of herself: “Before you mention this to anyone, I hope you will see my mother. Will you promise that?”
Mame did not answer at once. Her instinct was to ask Bill. Perhaps Violet may have guessed as much. For she was not to be put off. She made her demand again and with an urgency quite new in Mame’s experience of her. This was a new Violet altogether.
“Please, you must promise.” The gay voice had grown coldly resolute. “Something is due to us, you know.”
There was cause to regret those words as soon as they were uttered. For their effect was to stiffen Mame’s feathers.
“We’ll leave that to him, I guess.” There was resentment in the answer.
Considerable strength of will was needed for Violet to withhold the remark that Bill was a perfect fool. But she was able to fight down the raging tempest. “I am going to telegraph for my mother to come up at once. And in the name of our friendship I ask you to keep the engagement a close secret until—until you have seen her.”
Mame was inclined to resent the tone. But lurking somewhere in her crude yet complex mind was that rather unfeminine sense, fair play. She could not quite forget, after all, how much she owed to Violet. In the circumstances she had a right to demand this of her.
“Well, honey, I’ll do what you say,” drawled Mame with light drollery. “But I can’t answer for that l’i’l bird.”
Lady Violet’s eyes sparkled rather grimly, but she managed to keep her voice under control. “No, you can’t, of course.” By a mighty effort she got back on to the plane she was determined to occupy. “But if you can persuade him to hold his tongue for a day or two you’ll be helping everybody—yourself not least of all.”
The depth of the argument was a point beyond Mame. She could not pretend to be versed in the ways of the hothouse world she was about to enter. But evidently her friend had powerful reasons. Even if she was cutting up pretty rough there would be no harm in humouring her. Nay, it would be wise. Besides,as Mame’s conscience was careful to insist, it was right to make this concession. No need to stand too much on dignity, particularly as she had a real regard for Violet and so must do nothing to embitter their relations.
“I’ll do allIcan anyway to keep it a secret until I’ve seen your Mommer,” said Mame generously.