The Misses Mallett (The Bridge Dividing) Part 27

There was the dark hair, curly where hers was straight, dark eyes instead of grey ones, the same warm pallor of the skin, in Henrietta's case slightly overlaid with pink; but the mouth, ah! it must be the mouth and what it meant that made the alluring difference. Henrietta's mouth was soft, red and mutinous; in her father it had been a blemish, half hidden by the foreign cut of moustache and beard, but in Henrietta it was a beauty and a warning. Rose had never properly studied that mouth before and under the fixity of her gaze Henrietta's eyelids fluttered upwards. There were shadows under her eyes and it seemed to Rose that she had changed a little. She must have changed.

Rose had never been in the arms of Francis Sales; she shuddered now at the thought, but she knew that she, too, would have been different after that experience.

She looked at Henrietta with the sadness of her desire to help her, the fear of her inability to do it; and Henrietta looked back with a hint of defiance, the symbol of her att.i.tude to the cruel world in which fond lovers were despised and love had a hard road. Rose restrained an impulse to lean across the table and say quietly, 'I saw you to-night with Francis Sales and I am sorry for you. He told me I should not let you meet him. He said that himself, so you see he does not want you,' and she wondered how much that cry of his had been uttered in despair of his pa.s.sion and how much in weariness of Henrietta and himself.

Rose leaned back in her chair and immediately straightened. She was intolerably tired but she refused to droop. It seemed as though she were never to be free from secrecy: after her release there had been a short time of dreary peace and now she had Henrietta's fight to wage in secret, her burden to carry without a word. And this was worse, more difficult, for she had less power with which to meet more danger.

Between the candle lights she sent a smile to Henrietta, but the girl's mouth was petulantly set and it was a relief when Sophia quavered out, 'She won't be able to go to the Battys' ball! She will be heart-broken.'

Rose and Henrietta were momentarily united in their common amazement at the genuineness of this sorrow and to both there was something comic in the picture of the elderly Caroline, suffering from a chill and bemoaning the loss of an evening's pleasure. Henrietta cast a look of scornful surprise at her Aunt Sophia. Was the Battys' ball a matter for a broken heart? Rose said consolingly, 'It isn't till after Christmas. Perhaps she will be well enough.'

'And Christmas,' Sophia wailed. 'Henrietta's first Christmas here!

With Caroline upstairs!'

'I don't like Christmas,' Henrietta said. 'It makes me miserable.'

'But you will like the ball,' Rose said. 'Why, if it hadn't been for the ball we might have been in Algiers now.'

'With Caroline ill! I should have sent for you.'

'Shall we start, Henrietta, in a few weeks' time?' She ignored Henrietta's vague murmur. 'Oh, not until Caroline is quite well, Sophia. We could go to the south of France, Henrietta. Yes, I think we had better arrange that.' Rose felt a slightly malicious pleasure in this proposal which became a serious one as she spoke. 'You must learn to speak French, and it is a long time since I have been abroad. It will be a kindness to me. I don't care to go alone. We have no engagements after the middle of January, so shall we settle to go then?' There was authority in her tone. 'We shall avoid brigands, Sophia, but I think we ought to go. It is not fair that Henrietta's experiences should be confined to Radstowe.'

'Quite right, dear.' Sophia was unwillingly but n.o.bly truthful. 'We have a duty to her father, but say nothing to Caroline until she is stronger.'

Henrietta was silent but she had a hot rage in her heart. She felt herself in a trap and she looked with sudden hatred and suspicion at her Aunt Rose. It was impossible to defy that calm authority. She would have to go, in merest grat.i.tude she must consent; she would be carried off, but she looked round wildly for some means of escape.

The prospect of that exile spoilt a Christmas which otherwise would not have been a miserable one, for the Malletts made it a charming festival with inspired ideas for gifts and a delightful party on Christmas Day, when Caroline was allowed to appear. She refused to say that she was better; she had never been ill; it was a mere fad of the doctor and her sisters; she supposed they were tired of her and wanted a little peace. However, she continued to absorb large quant.i.ties of strengthening food, beef tea, meat jelly and heady tonic, for she loved food, and she was determined to go to the ball.

This was on New Year's Eve, and all that day, from the moment when Susan drew the curtains and brought the early tea, there was an atmosphere of excitement in Nelson Lodge and Henrietta permitted herself to enjoy it. Francis Sales was to be at the ball. She forgot the threatened exile, she ignored Charles Batty's tiresome insistence that she must dance with him twice as many times as with anybody else, because he was engaged to her.

'I don't believe you can dance a bit,' she cried.

'I can get round,' he said. 'It's the noise of the band that upsets me--jingle, jingle, bang, bang! But we can sit out when we can't bear it any longer.'

'That would be very amusing,' Henrietta said.

Susan, drawing Henrietta's curtains, remarked that it was a nice day for the ball and then, looking severely at Henrietta and arranging a wrap round her shoulders, she said, 'I suppose Miss Caroline is going.'

'Oh, I hope so,' Henrietta said. 'She's not worse, is she?'

'Not that I know of, Miss Henrietta, but I'm afraid it will be the death of her.' She seemed to think it would be Henrietta's fault and, in the kitchen, she told Cook that, but for Miss Henrietta, the Battys, who were close-fisted people--you had only to look at Mr.

Batty's mouth--would not be giving a ball at all, but they had their eyes on Miss Henrietta for that half-witted son of theirs. She was sure of it. And Miss Caroline was not fit to go, it would be the death of her. Cook was optimistic. It would do Miss Caroline good; she was always the better for a little fun.

The elder ladies breakfasted in bed to save themselves all unnecessary fatigue, and throughout the day they moved behind half-lowered blinds.

Henrietta was warned not to walk out. There was a cold wind, her face would be roughened; and when she insisted on air and exercise she was advised to wear a thick veil. Both ladies offered her a shawl-like covering for the face, but Henrietta shook her head. 'Feel,' she said, lifting a hand of each to either cheek.

'Like a flower,' Sophia said.

'The wind doesn't hurt flowers. It won't hurt me.'

Fires were lighted in the bedroom earlier than usual. Caroline and Sophia again retired to their room, leaving orders that they were not to be disturbed until four o'clock, and a solemn hush fell on the house.

While the ladies were having tea, Susan was busy in their bedroom laying out their gowns and Henrietta, chancing to pa.s.s the open door, peeped in. The bed was spread with the rose-pink and apricot dresses of their choice, with petticoats of corresponding hues, with silken stockings and long gloves and fans; and on the mound made by the pillows two pairs of very high-heeled slippers pointed their narrow toes. It might have been the room of two young girls and, before she fluttered down to tea, Henrietta took another glance at the ma.s.s of yellow tulle on her own bed. She wished Mrs. Banks and Miss Stubb could see her in that dress. Mrs. Banks would cry and Miss Stubb would grow poetical. She would have to write and tell them all about it. At eight o'clock the four Miss Malletts a.s.sembled in the drawing-room.

Caroline was magnificent. Old lace veiled the s.h.i.+mmering satin of her gown and made it possible to wear the family emeralds: these, heavily set, were on her neck and in her ears; a pair of bracelets adorned her arms. Seen from behind, she might have been the stout and prosperous mother of a family in her prime and only when she turned and displayed the pink patches on yellow skin, was her age discernible. She was magnificent, and terrible, and Henrietta had a moment of recoil before she gasped, 'Oh, Aunt Caroline, how lovely!'

Sophia advanced more modestly for inspection. 'She looks about twenty-one!' Caroline exclaimed. 'What a figure! Like a girl's!'

'You're prejudiced, dear Caroline. I never had your air. You're wonderful.'

'We're all wonderful!' Henrietta cried.

They had all managed to express themselves: Caroline in the superb attempt at overcoming her age, and Sophia in the softness of her apparel; Rose, in filmy black and pearls round her firm throat, gently proud and distant; and Henrietta was like some delicately gaudy insect, dancing hither and thither, approaching and withdrawing.

'Yes, we're all wonderful,' Henrietta said again. 'Don't you think we ought to start? It's a pity for other people not to see us!'

With Susan's help they began the business of packing themselves into the cab. Caroline lifted her skirts and showed remarkably thin legs, but she stood on the doorstep to quarrel with Sophia about the taking of a shawl. She ought to have a lace one round her shoulders, Sophia said, for the a.s.sembly Rooms were always cold and it was a frosty night.

'Sophia, you're an idiot,' Caroline said. 'Do you think I'm going to sit in a ball-room in a shawl? Why not take a hot-water bottle and a m.u.f.f?'

'At least we must have the smelling salts. Susan, fetch the salts.

Miss Caroline might need them.'

Miss Caroline said she would rather die than display such weakness and she stepped into the cab which groaned under her weight. Another fainter groan accompanied Sophia's entrance and Rose and Henrietta, tapping their satin shoes on the pavement, heard sounds of bickering.

Sophia had forgotten her handkerchief and Susan fled once more into the house.

The cabman growled his disapproval from the box. 'I've another party to fetch,' he said. 'And how many of you's going?'

'Only four,' Henrietta said sweetly, 'and we shan't be a minute.'

'I've been waiting ten already,' said the man.

The handkerchief was handed into the darkness of the cab and Rose and Henrietta followed. 'Mind my toes,' Caroline said. 'Susan, tell that disagreeable fellow to drive on.'

They had not far to go, but the man did not hurry his horse. Other cabs pa.s.sed them on the road, motor-cars whizzed by.

'We shall be dreadfully late,' Henrietta sighed.

'I am always late for b.a.l.l.s,' Caroline said calmly.

Rose, leaning back in her corner, could see Henrietta's profile against the window-pane. Her lips were parted, she leaned forward eagerly. 'We shall miss a dance,' she murmured.

Caroline coughed. 'Oh, dear,' Sophia moaned. 'Caroline, you should be in bed.'

'You're a silly old woman,' Caroline retorted.

'But you'll promise not to sit in a draught; Henrietta, see that your Aunt Caroline doesn't sit in a draught.' But Henrietta was letting down the window, for the cab had drawn up before the portals of the a.s.sembly Rooms.

In the cloak-room, Rose and Henrietta slipped off their wraps, glanced in the mirror, and were ready, but there were anxious little whisperings and consultations on the part of the elder ladies and Henrietta cast a despairing glance at Rose. Would they never be ready?

But at last Caroline uttered a majestic 'Now' and led the way like a plump duck swimming across a pond with a fleet of smaller ducks behind her.