Pink Gods and Blue Demons Part 4

A short silence ensued. Loree's mind was busily engaged in turning over her evening gowns, putting them on and discarding them one after the other, all except one she had never yet worn--delicious thing, pale and sweet as primroses growing in a field that the Lord had blessed. She gave a sigh of pleasure at the thought of wearing it. Valeria in the meantime gazed wearily around the room as though she hated everything in it, and in the world. Suddenly her gaze fell upon Pat Temple's photograph.

"Ah! So that's the husband!" said she, and took it up to scrutinise closely. "One of those big, sanguine men, born under Jupiter."

"What does that imply?" asked Loree.

"Luck in most things, especially in his own disposition."

"Yes; Pat has a lovely disposition," agreed his wife carelessly. "He is so awfully good-tempered. I have never known him cross with any one."

"They're the worst when roused," commented Mrs Cork.

Loree was already bored with the subject. She put up a hand and pa.s.sed it delicately over her eyes, sighing as if in pain. Valeria Cork recognised a hint when it was handed to her--even on a silver salver.

The moment she had gone, Loree hopped out of bed and locked the door.

Then she closed the balcony shutters and set both electric fans going.

It was one of those torrid days when clothes seem an outrage. She did not feel inclined to dress. Instead, she took from a trunk a roll of filmy powder-blue ninon bought for making blouses. In the dim room filled with fragrance and the rustling breezes of the fans, she swathed herself as with some soft blue mist, and her body glimmered through it like a living statue. Delicious hours she spent then, alone with her roses and diamonds, and the reflection of herself in the mirror, silent and lovely, less like a woman than some figure from the Elgin marbles come to life. But when the maid brought dinner, she was back in bed, white and languid and very still beneath her quilt.

The second day, she had ventured downstairs, but only for lunch, and leaning upon the arm of Mrs Cork, whom she had first gone to seek.

Quelch was kept at bay by her frail air of languor. His eyes consumed her, but she would not meet them, and to his urgent declaration that a drive in the cool of the day would do her good and blow all her ills away, she only smiled mournfully and kept tight hold of Mrs Cork's arm.

She did not intend to have her ills blown away.

And now, on the third morning, with a frown between her brows, she pondered the continuation of her programme. It was certain that she could not be indisposed for ever and stay shut up in her room. For one thing, she was a healthy creature, and liked air and light and sunshine.

But the fear of Quelch and the fires she knew she had set blazing in him worried her. Why could he not behave himself, she thought resentfully. Life would be so pleasant and delicious but for him. She no longer required the thrill of his pa.s.sionate admiration. The diamonds gave her thrill enough.

Valeria Cork, too, she felt, could not always be relied upon to stand by, lending the protection of her presence. That lady had interests and affairs of her own, and sometimes there was that in her manner which signified, very politely, that she did not care to be made use of. She was a card-woman, too, and would sit for hours playing with permanent guests at the hotel. Loree did not care for cards, and she could find no refuge in bridge. However she cared very much for dancing and was looking forward with immense pleasure to the ball that evening. She and Valeria were going together, and the latter had been so far accommodating as to promise to introduce plenty of dancing partners. In this way Loree hoped to evade the too close society of Quelch. In the meantime it was rather tiresome that the only place of real security seemed to be her own room. Because of this she lingered there all morning and had her lunch brought up. But it was a lovely day, and she longed for a walk. Rain in the night had cooled the air, and it was a shame to remain indoors. At about four o'clock, therefore, she ventured down. There was no one about except two stout ladies with dominant noses playing picquet. So she had tea in the drawing-room, and looked at the papers, and set out in search of a tobacconist's.

The main street was a good way off, but she reached it at last and bought and dispatched Pat's tobacco. Then she looked into the window of the shop next door, a fascinating window full of old silver, unusual jewellery, and snuff-boxes. Now, she collected little boxes and there was one that particularly caught her fancy--a lovely little Louis Seize in pale blue enamel with Cupids and forget-me-nots festooning the tender legend:

_Pour toute ma vie J'aime ma mie_.

She determined to buy it for herself as a birthday present, though the price would not make much of a hole in Pat's fifty-pound note. In fact, it was marked at such a low figure that its genuineness seemed doubtful.

But a suave person in the dim and dingy interior rea.s.sured her.

"These are all pledged goods, _madame_, so we can afford to sell them cheaply."

"Pledged? What is that?"

"Well--p.a.w.ned, _madame_."

"Do you mean that this is a p.a.w.nshop?"

"Yes, _madame_. We advance money on jewellery and valuables of all kinds." With an eloquent hand he indicated a door marked "Private" in the shadow at the back of the shop. "Transactions are conducted with privacy and dispatch."

Loree was horrified, p.a.w.nshops being vaguely connected in her mind with crime and police-court notices in the Sunday papers. She had sat down before the counter, but she now rose hurriedly.

"I don't think I will bother about the box to-day."

As she gathered up her gloves and sunshade, the door marked "Private"

opened, and Valeria Cork emerged. She was so busily occupied stuffing a bundle of banknotes into her bag that she walked past and left the shop without observing Loree. The latter, flushed and embarra.s.sed by what seemed to her a dreadful _contretemps_, lingered in the shop, buying the snuff box as a means of delaying herself from catching up with Mrs Cork in the street.

Of course it was no affair of hers, but she could not help wondering what business had been transacted behind the "Private" door that had resulted in Valeria Cork's acquiring a bundle of banknotes. Was she dreadfully in need of money and obliged to p.a.w.n something? Perhaps she could not even pay her hotel-bill! These were awful ideas to Loree, who had never known need of money in her life. She felt sorry as well as curious, for she liked Valeria Cork in spite of her dry tongue and uncertain temper. Besides, Loree Temple, when uncorrupted by diamonds, was of an exceedingly kind and generous disposition, with an instinct always to help people in trouble. For a time now she even forgot the diamonds, so absorbed was she by the thought of Mrs Cork's embarra.s.sments. But only for a time. The ball was to take place that night, and planning her toilette required undivided attention. Early in the day she had put everything ready. The gown she was to wear lay like a drift of primroses over a chair, the electric fan fluttering it softly, and driving away every tiny crease acquired in travel. Long yellow silk stockings and little yellow satin slippers with sparkling buckles lay on another chair, and on the bed all sorts of soft and slight and slinky garments to go on underneath. She sat down and commenced to do her hair. That took an hour or so, for like all hair it was obstinate and behaved badly when it was wanted to look its best.

She almost wished she had gone to a hairdresser. After pulling it down at least forty times and at last getting very nervous, she vowed that the forty-first time would have to do. It was the kind of hair that did not really need doing at all, being perfectly charming when just pushed up carelessly into little cl.u.s.ters of spraying waves and curls. She stuck her usual red rose into it from a great bunch that had been delivered that afternoon with the compliments of Heseltine Quelch. It was dinner-time long before she had finished so she rang for something on a tray and ate it sitting at her dressing-table studying herself in the mirror. In her vain little heart she decided that it was the better plan not to go downstairs where numbers of people were giving smart dinner parties. She did not want to be examined by scores of eyes before the hour when they would all file past Royalty. She wanted to dawn in all her glory upon the ball. To step like a fairy princess into the centre of the stage. Secretly she had an idea of outrivalling the renowned beauty of Princess Evelyn. However she was not very sure of herself in this ambition, being aware that Royalty has an air of its own, and that when said air is allied to beauty it becomes almost irresistible. Also, the Princess was older than she, had acquired the sophistication of Courts, and travelled in many lands. These things count, and Loree knew it. Still, she was not too discontented with the results of her subtle toiling and weaving when she stood at last ready to go downstairs. The only fault she could find was that she looked _too innocent_. That, she felt sure was a grave defect in a woman of the world. _Be_ innocent, yes, thought Loraine Loree, but don't look it, or people will think you are just out of the schoolroom. An abominable thing for a married woman of one year to have thought about her.

She wondered what on earth she could do to give herself the right note of sophistication and _awareness_ that there was wickedness in the world? She was wearing Pat's pearls; on her fingers, in her ears, round her throat: and they made her look more innocent than ever. For once she had locked the diamond necklace, precious and adored, up in her jewel box, for worn with a gown like this it could not possibly have been concealed. But suddenly a mad and daring idea darted into her mind. Suppose she should wear it? Would anything in the world give such a _note_? In the twinkling of an eye the pearls were off and replaced by the chain of glimmering gems. Just to see!

Yes. They gave the note. She looked like an angel who had been down to h.e.l.l on an errand, and got back safely. For it was on an errand only, be it understood. She had not lingered to talk to the Devil. Only given a glance beyond the bars to see what was going on there among the bright flames. Then fled. But the adventure had left its mark. Or so the diamonds seemed to relate in their brilliant language and the haunting echoes they gave to the eyes.

But dared she do this thing? Dared she go down into the crowd wearing the marvellous chain of stones that had come so mysteriously into her possession? She dallied long with the temptation, turning over the pros and cons in her mind. And after all what were the cons? Whoever it was that had been so kind and delightful as to present her with this jewel had surely meant her to wear it? Not keep it forever hidden? She did not linger too long over that phase of the story, however, because she did not wish to think too intently of the giver. Certainly she had no idea who it was, but she liked to think vaguely that the G.o.ds had something to do with it. Not any mere human being. The rose-pink idol rustling in its silken nest was a different thing altogether.

Unfortunately she knew that belonged to De Beers, and she dared not openly wear it. But surely this chain...

Well! if you dally with temptation long enough, temptation always wins, especially when aided and abetted by a thousand little lovely, glittering, dancing, scintillating spirits of light and colour.

Needless to say Loree went downstairs with the chain round her neck: and though her heart was trembling with its own audacity she walked like a queen.

It was nearly nine o'clock, the hour set for the reception to begin.

The lounge was crowded and carriages were every moment setting down fresh parties of people at the door. All the wealth of Ind as well as Afric seemed to be arriving. The place absolutely glittered with jewels. Even at that Loraine Loree created something of a sensation as she came down the broad stairway. At first men thought she was some lissom sprite of spring arriving, decorated with the dewdrops of dawn.

Then it was seen as she came among them that they had made a mistake.

This was a beautiful woman of the world, wearing a Paris gown and diamonds so sumptuous that they put every one else's into the shade.

Valeria Cork was one of the few people who appeared undisturbed by the glory of Mrs Temple, though she, like every one else, saw the vision and made a signal to it, to indicate her whereabouts: and Loree, a little nervous in all that crowd of staring strangers, yet moving proudly, with elation in her veins found her way to her friend's side.

Valeria introduced two men with whom she was talking. Loree was much relieved to see no sign of Quelch. One of the first things she noticed was that Mrs Cork had not got on her Brazilian diamond. This might be accidental of course, but it was strange upon an occasion when every one else was bedecked. Valeria on her part gave only a pa.s.sing glance at Loree's diamonds.

"How beautiful your jewels are!" she said carelessly, "and your gown too. You are creating quite a stir." Then she went on talking to one of the men, leaving the other to entertain Loree, which he certainly did, being a young South African who knew everybody and reverenced n.o.body... especially Kimberley n.o.bodies. He himself was Kimberley born, but Harrow and Cambridge had bred in him a fine intolerance for the men who were merely millionaires. As for the millionaires' wives--

"Isn't it amazing," he said looking at Loree with frankly admiring eyes, "that one hardly ever sees the right women with jewels? Why should a little blue-faced monkey of a woman go about with a thousand pounds glittering in each ear and a few more thousand pounds' worth drawing attention to her accordion-pleated throat? I tell you it makes me lose my reverence for age."

Loree doubted whether he had ever possessed any, but she laughed, because she was young and so was he; in fact he was still at Cambridge undergrad, being only out on a visit to his people during the long Vac.

"As for a fat woman wearing diamonds--" continued this hopeful youth, "I'd rather see a beautiful medallion stuck in a porker's back."

These wise and witty reflections were interrupted by a stir in the crowd and a general movement in the direction of the two great doors which were now flung open. The Royal party had arrived by a private way and taken up their position in the ballroom. The file through, to be announced and presented, now began, and Loree and Mrs Cork detached themselves from their friends with a promise to meet them later when the dancing commenced.

A rather magnificent arrangement of scarlet and gold--half platform, half dais--had been set up at one end of the ballroom. But the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess were standing well away from it and chatting and shaking hands with their guests and behaving exactly like ordinary mortals. They did not interest Loree very much--just an elderly well-bred looking English gentleman and his pleasant-faced wife--but she looked eagerly as she drew near, at the Princess Evelyn. Yes, she was certainly lovely. A fine clear English skin and delicately curved patrician features. She wore a wonderful gown of faint mauve draperies, and her eyes which had a singularly pure expression appeared to be of the same haunting colour.

People said she might have been a queen if she had chosen, and that more than one monarch had begged for her hand. But she had simple ideals, this royal girl--simple yet very high. She would only marry where she loved. And the world was amazed, and speculated a good deal as to what would happen if she fell in love with a mere commoner. In the meantime there seemed to be a little sadness in the sweet mauve eyes. Loree Temple thought so at least as she made her curtsey and pa.s.sed on.

There was still no sign of Quelch, and Loree felt alternately relieved and elated by the fact. She knew she was looking her best and it seemed a pity he should miss a sight that would give him so much pleasure. On the other hand it was undeniably safer, not to say cooler, without him hovering like a hawk over her every movement. Mrs Cork had introduced several pleasant people and she did not find time hanging on her hands at all. Only one thing worried her a little. A very striking-looking woman was paying her a good deal of attention and seemed to be constantly striving to approach her. As the room was crowded this was rather difficult, and Loree made it even more so for she had a feminine reason for not wishing the lady to approach too closely.

The latter was a large woman, very handsome, with bold bright eyes, and a genial and courageous look to her, that was attractive. With such a face she might have been a Jezebel, or a Roman matron above suspicion.

There perhaps was a little of both in her composition. Her gown of cloth of gold shone like a blaze of daffodils. Diamonds shone all over her too; in the buckles of her shoes, on her large able hands, on her plump but not shapeless arms. Youth had gone, and fat had come, but beauty had not entirely deserted her. She had one of those corsetted figures that make men wonder at the endurance of women, but her sufferings did not dim the brilliance of her smile nor the resonance of her hearty laughter which occasionally rang through the room. She was evidently a personality. She smiled at every one and every one smiled back and seemed to know her. It was only at Mrs Temple that she stared continually without smiling, seeming determined to edge nearer. But Mrs Temple was just as determined that she should do nothing of the sort, the reason being that beside that gown of blazing yellow Loree knew her own delicate primrose gown would be absolutely killed.

Naturally she did not care to have her l.u.s.tre dimmed and her subtle draperies made to look like faded nothings by the neighbourhood of this bird of brilliant plumage. Therefore very gently but cleverly she kept slipping a little further away.

"Who is that lady in bright yellow?" she asked the Kimberley boy who was once at her side begging for a dance. The Royal party was leaving and dancing would very shortly begin.

"Oh, you mean the famous Mrs Solano."

"Is she famous? What has she done?"