The Reflections of Ambrosine Part 32

"Shall you let your d.u.c.h.ess have a 'friend'?" I asked.

He mused a little.

"Could I have found my cow brewer's daughter, she would have been too virtuously middle cla.s.s to have thought of such a thing. And if I take this American--well, the Americans are so new a nation they have still a moral sense. So I think I am pretty safe."

"Old nations are deficient in this quality, then?"

"Yes. Artificial things are more worn out, and they get back nearer to nature."

"But you would object to a 'friend'?"

"Considerably, until the succession was firmly secured. After that, I suppose, my d.u.c.h.ess might please herself. She probably would, too, without consulting me. You don't see the whole of your neighbors eating cake and remain content with your own monotonous bread-and-b.u.t.ter."

This appeared to be very true. He continued in a meditative way:

"Because a few what we call civilized nations have set up a standard of morality for themselves, that does not change the ways of human nature. What we call morality has no existence in the natural world."

"Why should the respectable middle-cla.s.s brewer's daughter have so strong a sense of it, then?" I asked.

"Because propriety is their G.o.d from one generation to another. You can almost overcome nature with a G.o.d sometimes. Babykins has a theory that the food we eat makes a difference in the ways of our cla.s.s, but I don't believe that. It is because we hunt and shoot and live lives of inclination, not compulsion, like the middle cla.s.ses, and so we get back nearer to nature."

"You are a sophist, I fear," I said, smiling. "See, here is Miss Martina B. Cadwallader advancing upon us. Stern virtue is on every line of her face, anyway!"

"Pardon me, Dook," she said, "but the guide to Myrlton I purchased at the station gave me to understand I should find a second portrait of Queen Elizabeth in this gallery. I cannot see it. Would you be good enough to indicate the picture to me?"

"Oh, that was a duplicate," said the Duke, resignedly. "I sold it at Christie's last year. It brought me in ten thousand pounds--more than it was worth. I lived in comfort upon it for quite six months."

"You don't say!" said Martina B. Cadwallader.

Before the party said good-night, the meanest observer could have told that things were going at sixes and sevens, no one doing exactly what was expected of them.

Signs of disturbance showed as early as the few minutes before dinner.

Lord Luffton was openly seeking the society of the heiress, with no regard to the blandishments of Lady Grenellen. But by half-past eleven the clouds had spread all round.

Augustus, perhaps, looked the most upset. He had spent an evening on thorns of jealousy. First, snubbed sharply by the fair Cordelia; then, having to witness her ineffectual attempts to detach Lord Luffton from Miss Trumpet.

The Duke, while devoting himself to me, could not quite conceal his annoyance at the turn affairs were taking.

Miss Martina B. Cadwallader was plainly irritated with her niece for not attending to the business they had come for. Babykins was exerting her mosquito propensities and stinging every one all round. In fact, only the few casual guests, who did not count one way or another, seemed calm and undisturbed.

"It is really provoking," Lady Tilchester said to me. "What on earth did they ask Luffy here for? He is noted for this sort of thing, and, of course, posing as a war hero adds an extra l.u.s.tre to his charms."

The only two people supremely unconscious of delinquencies were the causes of all the trouble--Lord Luffton and Miss Trumpet.

They had gone off to look at the pictures in the long gallery, and at twenty minutes to twelve were nowhere to be seen.

Lady Glenellen's eyes flashed ominously.

"Let us go to bed," she said. "Betty, why don't you have the lights turned out?"

Fortunately the aunt did not hear this remark. As her face showed, she was quite capable of a sharp reply to anything, and though, no doubt, annoyed with the niece, would certainly defend her.

"We had better go and look for them," said the Duke.

"Perhaps they have fallen down the oubliette," suggested Babykins.

"You don't tell me there is danger?" demanded Miss Martina B.

Cadwallader, anxiously, "On this trip I am answerable to her poppa for Corrisande's safety."

We started, more or less in a body, towards the gallery, Lady Tilchester, with her usual tact, stopping to point out any notable picture or tapestry to the aunt on the way, so that the search should not look too pointed.

In the farthest corner, perched on a high window-seat--that must have required a knowledge of vaulting to reach--sat the guilty pair, dangling their feet. Anything more engaging than Miss Trumpet looked could not be imagined. The tiniest pink satin slippers peeped out of billows of exquisite _dessous_. Her little face seemed a ma.s.s of dimpling smiles. Not a trace of embarra.s.sment appeared in her manner.

"I say, Duke," she called, "you have got a sweet place here. We have been watching for the monk to pa.s.s, but he has not come yet."

The Duke stepped forward to help her down.

"Don't you trouble," she said. "Why, we had a gymnasium at the convent. I can jump."

Lady Grenellen now appeared upon the scene. She looked like an angry cat. I turned, with Lady Tilchester, and left the rest of the party.

What happened I do not know, but when they joined us all in the hall again the heiress was with the Duke, Lord Luffton walked alone, while Augustus, once more beaming, was close to Lady Grenellen's side. So it is an ill wind that blows no one any good.

Next day, after a delightful shooting-lunch and a brisk walk back, the heiress came to my room and talked to me.

She had apparently taken a great fancy to me, and we had had several conversations.

"I don't know why, but you give me the impression that you are a stranger, too, like Aunt Martina and me," she said. "You don't look at all like the rest of the Englishwomen. Why, your back is not nearly so long. I could almost take you for an American, you are so _chic_."

I laughed.

"Even Lady Tilchester, who is by far the nicest and grandest of them, does not look such an aristocrat as you do."

(Miss Trumpet p.r.o.nounces it _arrist_-tocrat.)

"I a.s.sure you, I am a very ordinary person," I said. "But you are right, I am a stranger, too."

"Now I am glad to hear that," said Miss Trumpet, beginning to polish her nails with my polisher, which was lying on the dressing-table.

"Because then I can talk to you. You know I have come here to sample the Duke. Poppa is so set on the idea of my being a d.u.c.h.ess. But it seems to me, if you are going to buy a husband, you might as well buy the one you like best. Don't you think so?"

"I entirely agree with you," I said, feelingly. "You would probably be happier with the one you prefer, even if he were only a humble baron."

And I smiled at her slyly.

"Now that is just what I wanted to ask you about. But if I took Lord Luffton, instead of the Duke, should I have to walk a long way behind at the Coronation next year?"

"I am afraid you would," I said.

She looked puzzled and undecided.