Set in Silver Part 10

"She hasn't anything to wear, if she would," Mrs. Norton answered for me. "You were so strict about luggage, we've only two evening dresses apiece, plain things for hotel dinners, nothing at all suitable to a dance."

"Didn't you buy her anything good enough for dances that day in Bond Street?" snapped the Dragon.

"_You_ bought her several things almost too good for dances, at her age," retaliated the Dragon's sister, but only in a gentle coo. "They're left at the Ritz, awaiting instructions to go on to Graylees, with most of our things, and will probably be all beggars' creases before she has a chance to wear them."

"She shall have a chance to wear any or all of them to-night, if she wants to dance," said Sir Lionel.

"Of course she wants to dance," chimed in Captain Starlin. "Did you ever see a young lady who didn't want to dance, especially on a man-o'-war?"

"_Do_ you want to?" repeated the Dragon.

Between them I was quite dashed, and murmured something non-committal about its being very nice, if it had been convenient, but----

"There is no 'but,'" said Ellaline's guardian. "That settles it. We stop the night in Southsea, where there's no doubt a good hotel; and I will send someone immediately to the Ritz for your boxes, Emily--and yours."

He never calls me by name if he can help it.

Emily was inclined to object that it would be foolish to send, and we didn't want all our things anyway, till her brother gave her a look--not cross, but--well, just one of his looks that make you do things, or stop doing them, whichever he pleases; and she didn't say any more.

I can't help rather liking his masterful ways, though they're old-fas.h.i.+oned now that we're all supposed to think we need votes more than frocks; but this time it really would have been ungrateful of me to disapprove, as the whole fuss was being made for me. And I was dying to go to the dance!

We went quickly back to the motor, spun into Southsea, and before the female contingent knew exactly what was happening to it, rooms were engaged for the night, and a "responsible person" despatched by the first train to town, with a letter demanding certain articles of our luggage.

I was quite excited about the evening, but outwardly was "more than usual calm," as we wandered here and there, after luncheon, seeing Southsea--which must, by the way, be a most convenient place for girls, as they can choose between Navy and Army, or play with both if they are pretty enough. Just as we were going to have a run out to Hayling Island in the car, whom should we meet in the street, close to our hotel, but Mrs. Senter and d.i.c.k Burden.

She was looking very fetching and young, almost like a girl, certainly as unlike an aunt as possible. And, mother, I _know_ it wasn't an accident. I don't mean about her being an aunt, of course, but being in Southsea and meeting us.

The day she called, in London, when Sir Lionel was in Warwicks.h.i.+re, I heard her asking Mrs. Norton questions about our route; and when dear Emily mentioned Winchester, she said, "Oh, won't you be pa.s.sing through Southsea?"

Mrs. Norton answered in her vague little way that she was sure she didn't know. Then Mrs. Senter went on to say that she and d.i.c.k were invited to stay at a house near Southsea, and she thought they would probably accept. Perhaps, if they did, we might meet. But, as I wrote you, I thought it more likely we wouldn't, unless Sir Lionel should seem keen when he heard; and he _didn't_. He apparently took no interest whatever when his sister repeated the conversation to him next day.

Well, I'm sure Mrs. Senter made up her mind to accept her friend's invitation (even if she didn't ask for one) the minute she found out that we were likely soon to pa.s.s Southsea. She must have known we would be sure to stop for a look round Portsmouth and the neighbourhood, and thought the chance worth taking. If she hadn't, she would have stopped in London till the end of the season, no doubt, for she's the kind of person who lives for Society, and only cares for the country when it's the fas.h.i.+on to be in it.

I wouldn't be a bit surprised if she'd been patrolling the streets of Portsmouth and Southsea for a day or two, in the hope of running across us sooner or later. Or, as d.i.c.k Burden fancies himself in the part of a detective, perhaps he hit upon some surer way of getting at us.

Those two, aunt and nephew, play into each other's hands beautifully.

Mamma, it seems, is visiting in Scotland at the moment, so they hunt in couples. How long "Aunt Gwen" has been a widow the saints may know; I don't--but anyway she has begun to "take notice," as people say about bright little babies. She has looked up Sir Lionel in Debrett, and marked him with a red cross for her own, I believe. Such impudence! A woman like that, to dare think of trying to grab a man of his position and record! She ought to know how unsuitable she would be for him.

As for d.i.c.k, of course he wants to flirt with me; but wait--wait till you hear the latest developments.

Sir Lionel seemed neither pleased nor displeased at the meeting, but he could not have suspected it was more than an accident, for he remarked that it was odd we should run up against each other like this!

Mrs. Senter said yes, indeed, it was, she was never more surprised in her life, though really it would have been odd, when one came to think of it, if we hadn't met, since she and d.i.c.k were stopping with friends on Hayling Island, and were constantly in Southsea.

"Do let me write a note to my friend Captain Starlin, and get you all invitations to the _Thunderer_ dance to-night," she tacked on to the tail of her explanation.

"He's an old friend of mine, too," said Sir Lionel, "and we've not only invitations already, but have accepted them, and sent for my sister's and Miss Lethbridge's clothes."

Her face fell a little for an instant when she heard we'd sent for clothes, as probably Emily and I would have suited her better in our worst things; but she brightened up and said how pleased she was, because she and d.i.c.k were both going, and now they would really look forward to the dance; d.i.c.k had been bored with the idea before.

Well, the boxes came in good time, and the Bond Street darlings weren't crushed in the least, because I had put them to bed so nicely with sheets and pillows of tissue paper. I decided to wear a pink chiffon, with tiny b.u.t.ton roses laid like a dainty frame all round the low neck and where the sleeves ought to have been but weren't. The chiffon's embroidered with roses to match. Can you imagine me in such a dream? I can't. But it suits me, rather. I wore pink shoes and stockings and gloves, all of the same shade, and poor Emily in gray silk, with her hair done in an aggressively virtuous way, looked like a cross between an Anglican nun and a tourist economizing luggage. Yet she wouldn't have been shocked if her brother'd had a harem in Bengal, because it was "good form." But of course, as she says, one is obliged to excuse things in men.

It was very amusing having dinner in the Captain's room, which was large and quite charming, with curtains and frilly silk cus.h.i.+ons, and heaps of framed, signed photographs, and books, almost as if a woman had arranged it. But he told us one felt the motion there, more than anywhere else, in a storm; which must be some consolation to the "middies" who have to work for years before they can ever hope for such luxurious quarters.

Mrs. Senter and d.i.c.k weren't at dinner, which was one comfort. Besides ourselves, there were only the Captain's married sister, who had come from town for the dance, and her husband. The husband's an earl--Lord Knaresbrook; rather old; but Lady Knaresbrook is young, frightfully pretty, and knows it. She flirted fascinatingly at dinner with Sir Lionel; not as Mrs. Senter flirts, flickering her eyelashes, saying smart things as if to amuse him alone, and hang everyone else!--but just looking at him, with gorgeous, starry eyes; asking a question now and then, and listening with all her soul. I'm not sure it isn't an equally effective way, especially when done in a diamond tiara by a countess under twenty-five. I should quite have enjoyed watching it if Sir Lionel had been a stranger, but knowing him somehow made me feel 'pon honour not to look, and rather restless. I do believe that, compared with some of these men, who've been at the other end of the world for years doing important political things, Samson with his hair all cropped off was _adamant_ to Lovely Woman!

Naturally, I had to have something to look at, and I couldn't look at Lord Knaresbrook because the shape of his nose worried me; and anyhow he wanted to talk to Emily about people they both knew. Such exciting bits as this floated to my ears: "Ah, yes, _he_ was the great-grandson of Lord This. She married the Duke of That's second cousin." So I looked a good deal at Captain Starlin, and he looked at me and not at very much else, which was quite easy, the most important lady being his own sister, who took the place of hostess; so Mrs. Norton was on his right and I on his left. As he was our host, and evidently wanted to flirt a little, I thought it my duty to gratify his wish, and played up to him.

That was quite right, wasn't it? I'm sure you'll say yes, as you are a Parisienne, and have brought me up to do unto others as I would be done by. But several times I happened to catch Sir Lionel's eyes, and they had a gloomy glint in them; not angry, but as if he'd discovered a screw loose in me. I felt as uncomfortable as you do with a smudge on your nose, which you see in shop-window mirrors when you've forgotten your handkerchief; but it was too late to change my behaviour suddenly, so I went on as I had begun.

We mere females didn't leave the men at the table, perhaps because there wasn't any place where it would have been proper for us to wander unmanned. We sat for hours, and Lady Knaresbrook smoked, and wanted us to smoke, though of course she must have known that no woman with her hair done like Emily's _would_. Emily looked shocked, but just pressed in her lips, and didn't disapprove out aloud, as she might if Lady Knaresbrook had been plain "Mrs." But afterward she told me she was now ready to believe "all they say" about Diana Knaresbrook. Just because she smoked! Mrs. Norton could find immorality in a hard-boiled egg if she looked for it.

At last we went above, or whatever you call it on a s.h.i.+p, and everything had been made beautiful with flags and bunting; but _nothing_ was as beautiful as those sailor men themselves, especially the middies. I felt like their mother (I hope that's not unmaidenly?) and should have loved to smooth their hair and pat them on the cheek--of which, by the way, they had plenty!

A good many were introduced to me; and d.i.c.k brought his aunt very early, because, he said, he didn't want to find all my dances gone. You can believe I hadn't saved any for _him_! But as a matter of fact, I had kept back two, thinking Sir Lionel might ask me; for after his many kindnesses I shouldn't have liked to seem not to want to dance with him, you see. When he didn't ask at first, I supposed it might be because he wasn't a dancing man (horrid expression!--sounds like a trained bear); but presently I saw him waltzing with Lady Knaresbrook; and he danced beautifully, as if he'd done nothing else all those years in Bengal.

Then I said to myself: "He's vexed with me because he thinks I behaved badly at dinner, and perhaps I did." And I almost hoped he would suggest sitting out a dance, so that we could talk.

But then d.i.c.k came; and when he found I had two dances he wanted them both. "There are things I must tell you," he said. And mother, it's easy to see that the creature has some talent as a detective, because he guessed at once why I'd been saving those dances.

"It's no good keeping anything up your sleeve for Pendragon," said he, in his perky way, as if he were on an equality with the ex-Lieutenant-Governor of East Bengal. "He won't ask you to dance. He thinks you're a little girl, and is leaving you to little boys, like me, which is quite right. The only woman he's ever taken any interest in for the last fifteen years is Aunt Gwen. And you can't say he doesn't show good taste."

I couldn't, especially as Mrs. Senter was looking like the heroine of a novel which you'd be sure to forbid my reading; so I gave him the dances, partly for that reason and partly because I was cowardly enough to want to hear what he had to tell. Just at the moment he couldn't say more, though, because a sweet brown lamb of a middy came and whirled me away. So it went on for half the evening, until it was nearly time for d.i.c.k Burden's first dance, and I was sitting down to breathe (after a furious galop, which didn't go at all well with a Directoire dress), beside Mrs. Norton, who had the air of thinking a ballroom a sort of pound for lost souls.

Up came Sir Lionel as if to speak to her, and--I don't know what made me do it--I said, "I saved a dance for you, but you never asked me for it, so I gave it to someone else."

His face got red. Perhaps he thought I was lecturing him for being rude.

"Did you give it to Starlin?" he asked, bluntly.

"No. I've had mine with Captain Starlin. To Mr. Burden," said I.

"Do you want to dance it with him?"

"Not at all."

"Chuck him, then, and dance it with me. I should like to talk to you."

"That's what he said."

"Do you want to hear what he's got to say?"

(Well, you know, dear, I _had_ wanted to; but suddenly I felt as if d.i.c.k didn't matter more than a fly, nor did any one else except the person I was talking to. You _do_ feel like that with these quiet, masterful sort of people, whether you care for them or not. It's just a kind of momentary hypnotism; or, at least, that's the definition I've been giving myself.)

"I don't want to hear what he's got to say," my hypnotized Me answered, in the queer, abrupt way in which we had begun snapping out little short sentences to each other. "I'm sure he couldn't say anything really interesting."

"Don't you like d.i.c.k Burden?"

"Not much."

"Then the dance is mine. Which is it?"