CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XII

A DAY or two before the end of the season Lee received a letter from Mrs. Montgomery which suggested another variation in the autumn programme. That lady and Randolph were leaving France for England, and after a brief visit to Tiny they hoped to be welcome at Maundrell Abbey. The junior Gearys, who were taking a belated honeymoon (Mr. Geary had died a week after the wedding), would arrive in England in the latter part of August.

Lee had seen nothing of her old friends since her departure from California. Lord Arrowmount had amused himself with a ranch until a month ago, when he had returned to England with his family, and gone straight to his place in the Midlands. Mrs. Montgomery had remained in California with them for two years, and spent the last year with Randolph, who had bought achâteauin Normandy and seemed to be devoting himself to the pleasures of thechasse. For two years he had sauntered leisurely about the world, and had finally made his home in France, as the sky and air reminded him of California and the life did not. He had written Lee a brief note occasionally, in which he said little about himself, and gave no indication that his sentiments towards her were other than fraternal. Nor couldshe guess what changes might have been wrought in him, although he remarked once that the longer he remained away from America the less he ever wanted to see it again. Out of the chaos of Mrs. Montgomery’s letters Lee gathered that he was improved; but she hoped that he was not too much changed, for with the prospect of her old friends’ advent came a lively desire for something like a renewal of old times. To her letter in behalf of Maundrell Abbey he had never alluded, and she had not revived the subject, for she had expected him to appear at any moment.

She went at once to the house in Upper Belgrave Street, and asked her mother-in-law to invite the entire party to the Abbey for two or three weeks in August and September. Lady Barnstaple happened to be in a particularly gracious humour.

“I shall be delighted to see some new faces,” she announced. “One gets sick of the same old set year after year. I quite liked Lady Arrowmount, what little I saw her—rather prim and middle-classy, but,enfin, quiteconvenable; one must not expect too much of the ancient aristocracy of San Francisco. You’ve improved so much, dearest. You never look shocked any more, and you’ve quite lost your provincialisms. When you came you were like a sweet little wild flower that had got lost in a conservatory. Now you aretout à fait grande dame, and it is quite remarkable, as you go out so little. But you always could dress, and the Society papers actually mention your frocks, which is also remarkable. As a rule one has to been évidenceall the time to retain anysort of interest. But you are pretty, and Cecil is so clever—a selfish beast, though. How long are you going to keep this thing up?”

“Oh, I am a mere creature of habit now. Who else is going down for the twelfth?”

“Mary Gifford—couldn’t you marry her to Randolph Montgomery? It’s really tragic the way she hangs on!”

“Her sisters have married, so I suppose she could. I don’t think she wants to marry. Under all her loudness she’s a queer porcelain-like creature, and rather shrinks from men.”

“Fiddlesticks! She’s waiting for eighty thousand a year! And she’s quite right. Whether she’ll get it or not——she’s a real beauty, and the way she keeps on looking just eighteen! Well, let me see: there will be the Pixes——Mr. Pix has really consented to come at last; never breathe it, but he’s been taking private lessons and has actually learned how to shoot as straight as anybody. I think Mary has her eye on him, but she’d better not!”

“Why not—since you are interested in her future?”

“Because I’m positive he’s the only man living that doesn’t see my wrinkles, and in my pocket he’ll stay. Well—there will be the Arrowmounts, Montgomerys, Gearys, Pixes, Mary, and sixteen or eighteen of the usual crowd: the Beaumanoirs, Larry Monmouth, the Duke and Duchess of Launcester, Lord and Lady Regent, and, oh, the ones one has to have or drop out. But I’d like to shake them all for one year.”

“I thought you adored English people.”

“I do and I don’t. I get mad sometimes at all the trouble they give me. Look at Mary Gifford! She hasn’t a penny, doesn’t lift her finger, and she’s in and out of every great house in England.”

“Well—surely; she belongs to them. She’s related to half of them—her father was a Marquis——”

“That’s just it,” said Lady Barnstaple, with a heavy scowl. “She belongs to them. I don’t. I can’t complain that they haven’t even run after me, but I’m not intimate, not dead intimate with one of ’em, all the same.”

“What does it matter? You had ambitions and you’ve satisfied them. There must always be something beyond one’s grasp.”

“There’s a good deal beyond mine,” said Lady Barnstaple with a sigh. “I can’t be young again; and when I had youth I made so little of it.”

“Well, you dazzle Mr. Pix,” said Lee lightly. “Let that console you.”

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