The Limit Part 16

"I'm sure he hasn't. What can Romer know of my domestic troubles, as he was just four when he lost his poor father? But however that may be, I do hope, Valentia, you will wear warm, _sensible_ clothes for the garden. I never quite like the idea of your sitting out on that little terrace late in the evening with practically nothing on your shoulders.

People should be so careful of the night air."

"How thoughtful of you, Mrs. Wyburn! But I have a wrap--I never sit out without a wrap."

"Pink chiffon, I suppose?"

"Now how did you know? You seem to have second sight!"

"Yes; I guessed as much. Very candidly, dear Valentia, I don't approve of pink chiffon. But we women of an elder generation are never listened to, though our advice is worth hearing, I can tell you."

"Oh no, Mrs. Wyburn, don't say that. What would you advise instead then--a red crochet woollen shawl? I'll get one, of course. How lovely that embroidery is getting that you're doing! I remember last February thinking that it was as beautiful as it could be, and now it is more wonderful still. Let me look."

She bent down her pretty head to admire it.

"Is it my fancy, or the light, or hasn't your hair grown a little brighter in colour lately, Valentia dear?"

"Oh, do you really think so? I'm so glad. I was afraid it was just the same--just as it was in Harry's portrait of me, you know."

"It does look very like the portrait. But, very frankly--you won't mind my saying so?--I think that if it were not quite so fair it would be an improvement."

"Oh, naughty Mrs. Wyburn! Fancy your wanting me to touch up my hair--make it dark at the roots, I suppose, as so many people seem to do! Oh! I wouldn't! What would Romer say? He likes it like this."

Before the elder lady had quite recovered from the blow, Valentia went on carelessly--

"Daphne sent her love to you. She mayn't have time to come and see you before we leave."

"Has she been going to any more fancy b.a.l.l.s as Rosalind?" asked Mrs.

Wyburn sarcastically.

"No, oh no. There haven't been any more."

"I heard a report--oh, only a report--that Mr. Van Buren is a great admirer of your sister's; indeed, it was even said that they were going to be engaged."

This was really a sore subject to Valentia. Her temper began to waver slightly. It had been a very pet scheme of hers, and only Daphne herself had defeated it by refusing the millionaire. But of course she knew better than to tell Mrs. Wyburn that.

"Oh yes, you heard that. I believe he does admire her very much. But I hope I'm not going to lose Daphne yet."

Something in her expression warned Mrs. Wyburn, who said affectionately--

"Well, there's plenty of time; she's _so_ young. I don't believe in girls marrying till they're sensible women and know something of housekeeping, and are fitted to deal with their servants."

"I hope you haven't been having any more trouble with yours lately?"

"Indeed I have! I had just sent for the housemaid to give her notice because she never dusts the l.u.s.tres properly, when she turned round and gave it--notice, I mean--to _me_!"

"What a blessing! It saved you the trouble."

"On the contrary, if you knew anything of domestics, Valentia, you would see that it put me in a most awkward position--most awkward; and now I shall have to live at Mrs. Hunt's!"

"To live at Mrs. Hunt's?" repeated Val, as if stupefied. "Why, you're not going to leave your charming house? And who is Mrs. Hunt?--an old friend of yours?"

"Don't you really know who Mrs. Hunt is, Valentia?" Mrs. Wyburn's voice trembled.

"No; I haven't the faintest idea."

"She's a Registry Off----Well, may you never know! Certainly I'm not going to leave my house. The idea of such a thing!"

"Oh, I'm _so_ glad," said Val, getting up. "I'm afraid I must leave it, though. I have so many little things to do before I go. Now, Mrs.

Wyburn, take great care of yourself, and I do _hope_ you'll get a nice housemaid quite soon. That sort of thing is so worrying, isn't it?"

Mrs. Wyburn accompanied her to the door, and as usual stood on the landing with her, complaining of various troubles, and finally parted with caressing words and advice about going for country clothes to "a little dressmaker--quite near here--who runs up one's blouses and skirts."

"Does she? Fancy! She must be small! Good-bye!"...

... "What a woman!" murmured Val as she got into the carriage.

"What a wife for Romer!" exclaimed Mrs. Wyburn as the door shut.

CHAPTER XIV

A SUGGESTION

Miss Lus...o...b.., humming a tune, was wandering round her drawing-room, arranging it. She always hummed a little tune when she was alone, if possible some quaint old French air. Not that she was really alone now; only her invisible mother was with her. To do her justice, Flora took as much trouble to impress this almost imperceptible audience as if she represented a large crowd.

"There!" she said. She dusted a little blue vase and put it further back. "Now you're nice and tidy. No, you go back there, you ugly thing!"

pouting at a photograph, "you're not wanted to-day! Come out more in the light, Lady Charles! We want you to be seen. _That's_ better!"

From the depths of an arm-chair, where she was hidden, Mrs. Lus...o...b.., who was watching her with intense irritation, said sharply--

"Who do you expect to-day?"

"Oh! how you startled me, Mummy! I didn't know you were there.... Isn't it funny, when you wear that dark red dress, _just_ the colour of the armchair, one doesn't see you?"

She went on humming in the low, sweet voice, "_La violette double, double--la violette double-ra-ra._"

"Pray stop that, Flora. My nerves won't bear it. Who did you say you expect?"

"Mr. Rathbone, darling, if you _must_ know. Mr. John Ryland Rathbone, to be exact. You know he's one of the Catford Rathbones, don't you, Mummy?"

"What's a Catford Rathbone?"

"Dear mamma!" she laughed. "It's quite a good old family. One of the unt.i.tled aristocracy."

"I thought you told me his father was a farmer?"