Thelma Part 39

"Clara!" exclaimed Mrs. Marvelle warningly. "You were fond of him once!--now, don't deny it!"

"Why should I deny it?" and her ladyship's dark eyes blazed with concentrated fury. "I loved him! There! I would have done anything for him! He might have trodden me down under his feet! He knew it well enough--cold, cruel, heartless cynic as he was and is! Yes, I loved him!--but I _hate_ him now!"

And she stamped her foot to give emphasis to her wild words. Mrs.

Marvelle raised her hands and eyes in utter amazement.

"Clara, Clara! Pray, pray be careful! Suppose any one else heard you going on in this manner! Your reputation would suffer, I a.s.sure you!

Really, you're horribly reckless! Just think of your husband--"

"My husband!" and a cold gleam of satire played round Lady Winsleigh's proud mouth. She paused and laughed a little. Then she resumed in her old careless way--"You must be getting very goody-goody, Mimsey, to talk to me about my husband! Why don't you read me a lecture on the duties of wives and the education of children? I am sure you know how profoundly it would interest me!"

She paced up and down the room slowly while Mrs. Marvelle remained discreetly silent. Presently there came a tap at the door, and the gorgeous Briggs entered. He held himself like an automaton, and spoke as though repeating a lesson.

"His lordship's compliments, and will her la'ship lunch in the dining-room to-day?"

"No," said Lady Winsleigh curtly. "Luncheon for myself and Mrs. Marvelle can be sent up here."

Briggs still remained immovable. "His lordship wished to know if Master Hernest was to come to your la'ship before goin' out?"

"Certainly not!" and Lady Winsleigh's brows drew together in a frown.

"The boy is a perfect nuisance!"

Briggs bowed and vanished. Mrs. Rush-Marvelle grew more and more restless. She was a good-hearted woman, and there was something in the nature of Clara Winsleigh that, in spite of her easy-going conscience, she could not altogether approve of.

"Do you never lunch with your husband, Clara?" she asked at last.

Lady Winsleigh looked surprised. "Very seldom. Only when there is company, and I am compelled to be present. A domestic meal would be too _ennuyant_! I wonder you can think of such a thing! And we generally dine out."

Mrs. Marvelle was silent again, and, when she did speak, it was on a less delicate matter.

"When is your great 'crush,' Clara?" she inquired, "You sent me a card, but I forget the date."

"On the twenty-fifth," replied Lady Winsleigh. "This is the fifteenth. I shall call on Lady Bruce-Errington"--here she smiled scornfully--"this afternoon--and to-morrow I shall send them their invitations. My only fear is whether they mayn't refuse to come. I would not miss the chance for the world! I want my house to be the first in which her peasant-ladyship distinguishes herself by her blunders!"

"I'm afraid it'll be quite a scandal!" sighed Mrs. Rush-Marvelle.

"Quite! Such a pity! Bruce-Errington was such a promising, handsome young man!"

At that moment Briggs appeared again with an elegantly set luncheon-tray, which he placed on the table with a flourish.

"Order the carriage at half-past three," commanded Lady Winsleigh. "And tell Mrs. Marvelle's coachman that he needn't wait,--I'll drive her home myself."

"But, my dear Clara," remonstrated Mrs. Marvelle, "I must call at the Van Clupps'--"

"I'll call there with you. I owe them a visit. Has Marcia caught young Masherville yet?"

"Well," hesitated Mrs. Marvelle, "he is rather slippery, you know--so undecided and wavering!"

Lady Winsleigh laughed. "Never mind that! Marcia's a match for him!

Rather a taking girl--only _what_ an accent! My nerves are on edge whenever I hear her speak."

"It's a pity she can't conquer that defect," agreed Mrs. Marvelle. "I know she has tried. But, after all, they're not the best sort of Americans--"

"The _best_ sort! I should think not! But they're of the _richest_ sort, and that's something, Mimsey! Besides, though everybody knows what Van Clupp's father was, they make a good pretense at being well-born,--they don't cram their low connections down your throat, as Bruce-Errington wants to do with his common wife. They ignore all their vulgar belongings delightfully! They've been cruelly 'cut' by Mrs.

Rippington--she's American--but, then, she's perfect style. Do you remember that big 'at home' at the Van Clupp's when they had a band to play in the back-yard, and everybody was deafened by the noise? Wasn't it quite too ridiculous!"

Lady Winsleigh laughed over this reminiscence, and then betook herself to the consideration of lunch,--a tasty meal which both she and Mrs.

Marvelle evidently enjoyed, flavored as it was with the high spice of scandal concerning their most immediate and mutual friends, who were, after much interesting discussion, one by one condemned as of "questionable" repute, and uncertain position. Then Lady Winsleigh summoned her maid, and was arrayed _cap-a-pie_ in "carriage-toilette,"

while Mrs. Marvelle amused herself by searching the columns of _Truth_ for some new t.i.t-bit of immorality connected with the royalty or n.o.bility of England. And at half-past three precisely, the two ladies drove off together in an elegant victoria drawn by a dashing pair of greys, with a respectably apoplectic coachman on the box, supported by the stately Briggs, in all the glory of the olive-green and gold liveries which distinguished the Winsleigh equipage. By her ladyship's desire, they were driven straight to Prince's Gate.

"We may as well leave our cards together," said Clara, with a malicious little smile, "though I hope to goodness the creature won't be at home."

Bruce-Errington's town-house was a very n.o.ble-looking mansion--refined and simple in outer adornment, with a broad entrance, deep portico, and lofty windows--windows which fortunately were not spoilt by gaudy hangings of silk or satin in "aesthetic" colors. The blinds were white--and, what could be seen of the curtains from the outside, suggested the richness of falling velvets, and gold-woven tapestries.

The drawing-room balconies were full of brilliant flowers, shaded by quaint awnings of Oriental pattern, thus giving the place an air of pleasant occupation and tasteful elegance.

Lady Winsleigh's carriage drew up at the door, and Briggs descended.

"Inquire if Lady Bruce-Errington is at home," said his mistress. "And if not, leave these cards."

Briggs received the scented glossy bits of pasteboard in his yellow-gloved hand with due gravity, and rang the bell marked "Visitors"

in his usual ponderous manner, with a force that sent it clanging loudly through the corridors of the stately mansion. The door was instantly opened by a respectable man with grey hair and a gentle, kindly face, who was dressed plainly in black, and who eyed the gorgeous Briggs with the faintest suspicion of a smile. He was Errington's butler, and had served the family for twenty-five years.

"Her ladyship is driving in the Park," he said in response to the condescending inquiries of Briggs. "She left the house about half an hour ago."

Briggs thereupon handed in the cards, and forthwith reported the result of his interview to Lady Winsleigh, who said with some excitement--

"Turn into the Park and drive up and down till I give further orders."

Briggs mutely touched his hat, mounted the box, and the carriage rapidly bowled in the required direction, while Lady Winsleigh remarked laughingly to Mrs. Marvelle--

"Philip is sure to be with his treasure! If we can catch a glimpse of her, sitting, staring open-mouthed at everything, it will be amusing! We shall then know what to expect."

Mrs. Marvelle said nothing, though she too was more or less curious to see the "peasant" addition to the circle of fashionable society,--and when they entered the Park, both she and Lady Winsleigh kept a sharp look-out for the first glimpse of the quiet grey and silver of the Bruce-Errington liveries. They watched, however, in vain--it was not yet the hour for the crowding of the Row--and there was not a sign of the particular equipage they were so desirous to meet. Presently Lady Winsleigh's face flushed--she laughed, and bade her coachman come to a halt.

"It is only Lennie," she said in answer to Mrs. Marvelle's look of inquiry. "I _must_ speak to him a moment!"

And she beckoned coquettishly to a slight, slim young man with a dark moustache and rather handsome features, who was idling along on the footpath, apparently absorbed in a reverie, though it was not of so deep a character that he failed to be aware of her ladyship's presence--in fact he had seen her as soon as she appeared in the Park. He saw everything apparently without looking--he had lazily drooping eyes, but a swift under-glance which missed no detail of whatever was going on. He approached now with an excessively languid air, raising his hat slowly, as though the action bored him.

"How do, Mrs. Marvelle!" he drawled lazily, addressing himself first to the elder lady, who responded somewhat curtly,--then leaning his arms on the carriage door, he fixed Lady Winsleigh with a sleepy stare of admiration. "And how is our Clara? Looking charming, as usual! By Jove!

Why weren't you here ten minutes ago? You never saw such a sight in your life! Thought the whole Row was going crazy, 'pon my soul!"

"Why, what happened?" asked Lady Winsleigh, smiling graciously upon him.

"Anything extraordinary?"

"Well, I don't know what you'd call extraordinary;" and Sir Francis Lennox yawned and examined the handle of his cane attentively. "I suppose if Helen of Troy came driving full pelt down the Row all of a sudden, there'd be some slight sensation!"

"Dear me!" said Clara Winsleigh pettishly. "You talk in enigmas to-day.

What on earth do you mean?"

Sir Francis condescended to smile. "Don't be waxy, Clara!" he urged--"I mean what I say--a new Helen appeared here to-day, and instead of 'tall Troy' being on fire, as Dante Rossetti puts it, the Row was in a burning condition of excitement--fellows on horseback galloped the whole length of the Park to take a last glimpse of her--her carriage dashed off to Richmond after taking only four turns. She is simply magnificent!"