Lady Barbarina Part 37

"We shall be most happy," said Bessie.

"And of course I shall be delighted to show you the Houses of Parliament-some day that suits you. There are a lot of things I want to do for you. I want you to have a good time. And I should like very much to present some of my friends to you if it wouldn't bore you. Then it would be awfully kind of you to come down to Branches."

"We're much obliged to you, Lord Lambeth," said Bessie. "And what may Branches be?"

"It's a house in the country. I think you might like it."

Willie Woodley and Mrs. Westgate were at this moment sitting in silence, and the young man's ear caught these last words of the other pair. "He's inviting Miss Bessie to one of his castles," he murmured to his companion.

Mrs. Westgate hereupon, foreseeing what she mentally called "complications," immediately got up; and the two ladies, taking leave of their English friend, returned, under conduct of their American, to Jones's Hotel.

V

Lord Lambeth came to see them on the morrow, bringing Percy Beaumont with him-the latter having at once declared his intention of neglecting none of the usual offices of civility. This declaration, however, on his kinsman's informing him of the advent of the two ladies, had been preceded by another exchange.

"Here they are then and you're in for it."

"And what am I in for?" the younger man had inquired.

"I'll let your mother give it a name. With all respect to whom," Percy had added, "I must decline on this occasion to do any more police duty.

The d.u.c.h.ess must look after you herself."

"I'll give her a chance," the d.u.c.h.ess's son had returned a trifle grimly.

"I shall make her go and see them."

"She won't do it, my boy."

"We'll see if she doesn't," said Lord Lambeth.

But if Mr. Beaumont took a subtle view of the arrival of the fair strangers at Jones's Hotel he was sufficiently capable of a still deeper refinement to offer them a smiling countenance. He fell into animated conversation-conversation animated at least on _her_ side-with Mrs.

Westgate, while his companion appealed more confusedly to the younger lady. Mrs. Westgate began confessing and protesting, declaring and discriminating.

"I must say London's a great deal brighter and prettier just now than it was when I was here last-in the month of November. There's evidently a great deal going on, and you seem to have a good many flowers. I've no doubt it's very charming for all you people and that you amuse yourselves immensely. It's very good of you to let Bessie and me come and sit and look at you. I suppose you'll think I'm very satirical, but I must confess that that's the feeling I have in London."

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand to what feeling you allude," said Percy Beaumont.

"The feeling that it's all very well for you English people.

Everything's beautifully arranged for you."

"It seems to me it's very well arranged here for some Americans sometimes," Percy plucked up spirit to answer.

"For some of them, yes-if they like to be patronised. But I must say I don't like to be patronised. I may be very eccentric and undisciplined and unreasonable, but I confess I never was fond of patronage. I like to a.s.sociate with people on the same terms as I do in my own country; that's a peculiar taste that I have. But here people seem to expect something else-really I can't make out quite what. I'm afraid you'll think I'm very ungrateful, for I certainly have received in one way and another a great deal of attention. The last time I was here a lady sent me a message that I was at liberty to come and pay her my respects."

"Dear me, I hope you didn't go," Mr. Beaumont cried.

"You're deliciously naf, I must say that for you!" Mrs. Westgate promptly pursued. "It must be a great advantage to you here in London.

I suppose that if I myself had a little more navete-of your blessed national lack of any approach to a sense for shades-I should enjoy it more. I should be content to sit on a chair in the Park and see the people pa.s.s, to be told that this is the d.u.c.h.ess of Suffolk and that the Lord Chamberlain, and that I must be thankful for the privilege of beholding them. I daresay it's very peevish and critical of me to ask for anything else. But I was always critical-it's the joy of my life-and I freely confess to the sin of being fastidious. I'm told there's some remarkably superior second-rate society provided here for strangers.

_Merci_! I don't want any superior second-rate society. I want the society I've been accustomed to."

Percy mustered a rueful gaiety. "I hope you don't call Lambeth and me second-rate!"

"Oh I'm accustomed to you!" said Mrs. Westgate. "Do you know you English sometimes make the most wonderful speeches? The first time I came to London I went out to dine-as I told you, I've received a great deal of attention. After dinner, in the drawing-room, I had some conversation with an old lady-no, you mustn't look that way: I a.s.sure you I had! I forget what we talked about, but she presently said, in allusion to something we were discussing: 'Oh, you know, the aristocracy do so-and-so, but in one's own cla.s.s of life it's very different.' In one's own cla.s.s of life! What's a poor unprotected American woman to do in a country where she is liable to have that sort of thing said to her?"

"I should say she's not to mind, not a rap-though you seem to get hold of some very queer old ladies. I compliment you on your acquaintance!"

Percy pursued. "If you're trying to bring me to admit that London's an odious place you'll not succeed. I'm extremely fond of it and think it the jolliest place in the world."

"Pour vous autres-I never said the contrary," Mrs. Westgate retorted-an expression made use of, this last, because both interlocutors had begun to raise their voices. Mr. Beaumont naturally didn't like to hear the seat of his existence abused, and Mrs. Westgate, no less naturally, didn't like a stubborn debater.

"Hallo!" said Lord Lambeth; "what are they up to now?" And he came away from the window, where he had been standing with Bessie.

"I quite agree with a very clever countrywoman of mine," the elder lady continued with charming ardour even if with imperfect relevancy. She smiled at the two gentlemen for a moment with terrible brightness, as if to toss at their feet-upon their native heath-the gauntlet of defiance.

"For me there are only two social positions worth speaking of-that of an American lady and that of the Emperor of Russia."

"And what do you do with the American gentlemen?" asked Lord Lambeth.

"She leaves them in America!" said his comrade.

On the departure of their visitors Bessie mentioned that Lord Lambeth would come the next day, to go with them to the Tower, and that he had kindly offered to bring his "trap" and drive them all through the city.

Mrs. Westgate listened in silence to this news and for some time afterwards also said nothing. But at last, "If you hadn't requested me the other day not to speak of it," she began, "there's something I'd make bold to ask you." Bessie frowned a little; her dark blue eyes grew more dark than blue. But her sister went on. "As it is I'll take the risk.

You're not in love with Lord Lambeth: I believe it perfectly. Very good.

But is there by chance any danger of your becoming so? It's a very simple question-don't take offence. I've a particular reason," said Mrs.

Westgate, "for wanting to know."

Bessie for some moments said nothing; she only looked displeased. "No; there's no danger," she at last answered with a certain dryness.

"Then I should like to frighten them!" cried her sister, clasping jewelled hands.

"To frighten whom?"

"All these people. Lord Lambeth's family and friends."

The girl wondered. "How should you frighten them?"

"It wouldn't be I-it would be you. It would frighten them to suppose you holding in thrall his lordship's young affections."

Our young lady, her clear eyes still overshadowed by her dark brows, continued to examine it. "Why should that frighten them?"

Mrs. Westgate winged her shaft with a smile before launching it.

"Because they think you're not good enough. You're a charming girl, beautiful and amiable, intelligent and clever, and as _bien-elevee_ as it is possible to be; but you're not a fit match for Lord Lambeth."

Bessie showed again a coldness. "Where do you get such extraordinary ideas? You've said some such odd things lately. My dear Kitty, where do you collect them?"

But Kitty, unabashed, held to her idea. "Yes, it would put them on pins and needles, and it wouldn't hurt you. Mr. Beaumont's already most uneasy. I could soon see that."

The girl turned it over. "Do you mean they spy on him, that they interfere with him?"