Anthony Lyveden Part 17

"What a shame!" she cried. "Why should he go if he doesn't want to?

And, for all we know, none of us may be able to accept. We've got to get leave first, and then we've got to ask if we can have the Ford."

She paused to glance at the time. "Ten to eight, and you haven't washed the yard yet. Don't sit there, George. Get a move on. You chauffeurs!" She fairly drove him about his business.

All the same, before the day was over she had wheedled a promise from Anthony that, master and mistress permitting, he would go to the dance.

The b.u.mbles were duly approached, and consented readily to the projected exodus, asking solicitously if a quarter to ten would be early enough for the four to leave The Shrubbery, and offering the use of the Ford before this was sought. Considering that they were not upon the visiting list of Lady Touchstone, or, for that matter, upon that of any other of their domestics' friends, their readiness to facilitate the excursion must be accounted to them for righteousness of a calibre rare indeed.

The night of the dance came, and the stars with it. All the company of heaven twinkled and flashed out of a windless sky. No solitary breath of air rustled the silence of the woods. Summer was dying hard. Yet in the bottoms there lay--sure sign of Autumn--little h.o.a.ry pools of mist, just deep enough to swathe the Ford and its complement of would-be revellers in a wet rush of frozen smoke, and make the girls thrust their pink fingers beneath the rug, and Anthony his hands into his coat-pockets.

For all that, for Lyveden the five miles to Bell Hammer were covered too soon. He liked to feel the rush of the wings of Night upon his temples, to mark the untroubled slumber of the country-side, gaze at the velvet dome fretted with silver. Moreover, he was almost dreading the dance. Had he not given his word a week ago, he would--speaking vulgarly--have stuck his toes in and seen his companions to the edge of the pit before he followed them into the mansion.

For a mansion it was.

Though the night was moonless, Anthony could see that. That it was a beautiful specimen of a "Queen Anne" residence he could not perceive.

Indeed, almost before the car had been berthed close to the shadowy elegance of a tremendous cedar, the front door was opened, and a great shaft of light streamed out into the darkness.

The guests pa.s.sed in.

The monstrous deference of the footman who received Anthony's coat and hat gave a disconcerting fillip to the latter's uneasiness. As a respectful butler preceded the party upstairs, he felt as if he were being conducted to a scaffold.

"Captain and Mrs. Alison, Miss Alison, Major Lyveden."

Anthony braced himself.

The next moment--

"How d'ye do?" said Valerie, with a quiet smile. "I'm so glad you could come. How's Patch?"

With a whirling brain, Anthony tried to say that Patch was very well.

"Let me introduce you to my aunt," said Valerie, turning to a lady whom Anthony seemed to have seen before. "Aunt Harriet, this is Major Lyveden--Lady Touchstone."

Anthony bowed dazedly.

"You were very good to Valerie," said the lady, "a little while ago.

I've heard about it. And how do you like service? I always said that, if my father had put his money into railways instead of ships, I should have become a cook-housekeeper."

"It all depends," said Anthony, "on whose service you're in. I like yours very much."

Lady Touchstone laughed.

"You'd make a good equerry," she said. Then she turned to glance down the gallery. "You must meet Mrs. Pleydell," she added. "Ah, there she is. Come." They stepped to the side of a tall dark girl with a most attractive smile. "Daphne, my dear, this is Major Lyveden--from The Shrubbery. Amuse him, and he'll flatter you. You see." The tall fair man who had been sitting with Mrs. Pleydell offered Lady Touchstone his arm. She put it aside with a frown. "I'm not so old as all that, Jonah," she said. "You may take me to the hearth, if you please, but not like a grandmother."

With a crash an alcove belched music, and in a moment all the winking length of the gallery was throbbing with ragtime.

Mrs. Pleydell and Anthony trod the measure with a will.

When it was over, she led him to a tall window with a deep-cushioned seat.

"You were out," she said, "when I came the other day. To make up for it, you must come to White Ladies. It's a pretty walk, and we'll take you back in the car."

"You're very kind," said Anthony.

"If you talk like that," said Daphne, "I shall invite you for the week-end. And now would you like to talk shop, or shall I tell you about my new dress?"

Anthony hesitated, and the girl laughed merrily.

"I'm a past-mistress of blackmail," she said. "My husband taught me."

Anthony joined in her merriment before clearing his throat.

"My first place," he said, "was in Lancaster Gate."

"I know," said Daphne eagerly. "North of the Park. Go on."

Before they parted, they had danced two more dances together.

Then he spent a quarter of an hour with Betty and another like period with Anne. After that, before he could get to Valerie, he was handed to a little fair damsel, all big grey eyes and ma.s.ses of golden hair.

"Major Lyveden--Miss Mansel."

"Isn't Daphne nice?" said that lady. "I saw you dancing with her.

She's my cousin."

"I envy you both," said Anthony.

Jill Mansel stared at him gravely.

"That's very nice of you. Yes, I'd love to dance this. Look. There's Adele. Isn't she lovely? I think she's like a flower. She's going to marry my cousin. She's an American without an accent. You are tall, aren't you? You're all tall here to-night, except me. It makes me feel a dwarf."

"And us, ogres," said Anthony.

Jill laughed delightedly.

"You are nice," she said. "Valerie said you were. Look at Berry dancing with Daphne, and pretending he's bored stiff. When are you coming to White Ladies?"

She prattled on contentedly, asking questions innumerable, but requiring no answers.

Lyveden enjoyed himself.

After they had sat out a little, Valerie came towards them with the man called Jonah.

"Since you won't ask me," she said to Anthony, "I must throw myself at your head." She turned, smiling, to Jill. "Jonah is bored with me, dear, so I'm going to heap coals of fire on his head and restore him to his little sister." She returned to Anthony. "Now, then." Thus addressed, he offered her his arm soberly enough. "There's some supper, I know, downstairs, because I ordered it myself."

They made for the great doors, Anthony tongue-tied, and she hailing others to follow them.

As they pa.s.sed down the broad staircase, he remembered the reason of the party, and begged to congratulate her. My lady thanked him with a quiet smile.

"We've got a lot to talk about," she said. "You and I. And there'll be too much noise at supper, so it must wait. Afterwards I'll send for a coat, and we'll walk in the garden. That's the best of a birthday.