The Misses Mallett (The Bridge Dividing) Part 29

He turned the head which had been sunk on his crumpled s.h.i.+rt. 'Is anything the matter?' he asked, concerned, and more alert than she had ever seen him.

She said, 'Hus.h.!.+' for the door behind was opening and it let in a murmur of voices and a rush of cold, fresh air. Rose s.h.i.+vered and, looking round, she saw Henrietta and Francis Sales. Her cloak was half on and half off her shoulders, her colour was very high and her eyes were not so dazzled by the light that she did not immediately recognize her aunt. It was Francis Sales who hesitated and Rose said quickly, 'Oh, please shut the door.'

He obeyed and stood by Henrietta's side, a pleasing figure, looking taller and more finely made in his black clothes.

'Have you been on the terrace?'

'Yes, it's a glorious night.'

'You'll get cold,' Charles said severely. She had been out there with the man who murdered music and who, therefore, was a scoundrel, and Charles's objection was based on that fact and not on Francis Sales's married state. He had not the pleasure of feeling a pious indignation that a man with an invalid wife walked on the terrace with Henrietta.

He would have said, 'Why not?' and he would have found an excuse for any man in the beauty, the wonder, the enchantment of that girl, though he could not forgive Henrietta for her friends.h.i.+p with the slaughterer of music and of birds.

He glared and repeated, 'You'll be ill.'

Henrietta pretended not to hear him, and Rose said thoughtfully and slowly, 'Oh, no, Charles, people don't get cold when they are happy.'

'I suppose not.' He felt in a vague way that he and Rose, sitting there, for he had forgotten to stand up, were united against the other two who stood, very clear, against the gold-embossed wall of the room, and that those two were conscious of the antagonism. They also were united and he felt an increase of his dull pain at the sight of their comeliness, the suspicion of their likeness to each other. 'I suppose not,' Charles said, and after that no one spoke, as though it were impossible to find a light word, and unnecessary.

Each one was aware of conflict, of something fierce and silent going on, but it was Rose who understood the situation best and Charles who understood it least. His feelings were torturing but simple. He wanted Henrietta and he could not get her: he did not please her, and that Sales, that Philistine, that handsome, well-made, sulky-looking beggar knew how to do it.

But Rose was conscious of the working of four minds: there was her own, sore with the past and troubled by a present in which her lover concealed his discomfiture under the easy sullenness of his pose. He, too, had the past shared with her to haunt him, but he had also a present bright with Henrietta's allurements yet darkly streaked with prohibitions, struggles and surrenders, and Rose saw that the worst tragedy was his and hers. It must not be Henrietta's. In their youth she and Francis had misunderstood, and in their maturity they had failed, each other; it was the fault of neither and Henrietta must not be the victim of their folly. Looking at the big fan of black feathers spread on her knee, Rose smiled a little, with a maternal tenderness.

Henrietta was her father's daughter, wilful and lovable, but she was also the daughter of that mother who had been good and loving.

Henrietta had her father's pa.s.sion for excitement but, being a woman, she had the greater need of being loved, and Rose raised her eyes and looked at Charles with an ironical appreciation of his worthiness, of his comicality. She saw him with Henrietta's eyes, and her white shoulders lifted and dropped in resignation. Then she looked at Henrietta and smiled frankly. 'Another dance has begun,' she said.

'Somebody must be looking for you.'

'No,' Henrietta said, 'it's with Mr. Sales,' and turning to him with the effect of ignoring Rose, she said in a clear voice which became slightly harsh as she saw him gazing at her aunt oddly, almost as though he were astonished by a new sight, 'Shall we go back to the terrace or shall we dance?'

'You'll get cold,' Charles said again angrily.

'Let us dance,' Sales said.

The door to the ball-room closed behind them and Charles let out a groan. 'You see!' he said.

Rose hoped he did not see too much and she was rea.s.sured when he added, 'She takes no notice of me.'

'Poor Charles, but you know you treat her a little like a child. You shouldn't talk of catching cold. You're too material.'

She was surprised to hear him say with a sort of humble pride, 'Only before other people. She's heard me different.' Then, dropping into the despair of his own thoughts, and with the rage of one feeling himself sinking hopelessly, he cried out, 'It's like pouring water through a sieve.'

The voice of Rose, very calm and wise, said gently, 'Continue to pour.'

'It's all very fine,' he muttered.

'Continue to pour. It may be all you can do, but it is worth while.'

'I told her I would do that, one night, on the hill. She said she didn't want it.'

'She doesn't know,' Rose said in the same voice, comforting in its quietness. She stood up. 'We had better go back now, and remember, you promise to do for her anything I ask of you.'

'Of course,' he said, 'but I shall do it wrong.'

She laid her hand on his arm. 'It must be done rightly. It must. It will be. Now take me back.'

He resigned her unwillingly, for he felt that she was his strength, to the partner who claimed her, but as she prepared to dance, Charles returned hurriedly and, ignoring the affronted gentleman who had already clasped her, he said anxiously, 'This service--what is it? Is there something wrong?'

She looked deeply into his eyes. 'There must not be.'

And now, for him in the sea of dancers, there were two dark heads bobbing among the waves.

The hours sped by; the lavish supper was consumed; dresses and flowers lost their freshness; the musicians lost their energetic ardour; the man at the piano was seen to yawn cavernously above the keys. The guests began to depart, leaving an exhausted but happy Mrs. Batty. She had been complimented by Miss Mallett on the perfection of her arrangements, on the brilliance of the a.s.sembly, on the music and even on the refreshments, and Mrs. Batty had blessed her own perseverance against Mr. Batty's obstinacy in the matter of the supper. He had wanted light refreshments and she had insisted on a knife-and-fork affair, and Miss Caroline had actually remarked on the wisdom of a solid meal. She had no patience with snacks. Mrs. Batty intended to lull Mr. Batty to slumber with that quotation.

In the cab, as the Malletts jolted home in the care of the same surly driver, Caroline complaisantly spoke of her congratulations. She would not have said so much to anybody else, but she knew Mrs. Batty would be pleased.

'So she was, dear,' Sophia said, but her more delicate social sense was troubled. 'Though I do think one ought to treat everybody as one would treat the greatest lady in the land. I think we ought to have taken for granted that everything would be correct.'

'Rubbis.h.!.+ You must treat people as they want to be treated. She was panting for praise, and she got it, and anyhow it's too late to argue.'

They had stayed to the end so that Henrietta's pleasure should not be curtailed, and now she was leaning back, very white and still.

'I believe the child's asleep,' Sophia whispered.

'No, I'm not. I'm wide awake.'

'Did you enjoy it, dear?'

'Very much,' said Henrietta.

'I kept my eye on you, child,' Caroline said.

Henrietta made an effort. 'I kept my eye on you, Aunt Caroline. I saw you flirting with Mr. Batty.'

'Impudence! Sophia, do you hear her? I only danced with him twice, though I admit he hovered round my chair. They always did. I can't help it. We're all like that. You should have seen your father at a ball! There was no one like him. Such an air! Ah, here we are. I suppose this disagreeable cabman must be tipped.'

'I'll see to that,' Rose said. It was the first time she had spoken.

'Be quick, Caroline. Don't stand in the cold.'

'The dancing has done me good,' Caroline said, and she lingered on the pavement to look at the stars, holding her skirts high in the happy knowledge of her unrivalled legs and feet. 'No, Sophia, I am not cold, or tired; but yes, I'll take a little soup.'

They sat round the roaring fire prepared for them and drank the soup out of fine old cups. Caroline chattered; she was gay; she believed she had been a great success; young men had paid court to her; she had rapped at least one of them with her fan; a grey-haired man had talked to her of her lively past. But Sophia had much ado to prevent her heavy head from nodding. Henrietta was silent, very busy with her thoughts and careful to avoid the eyes of Rose.

'I think,' Caroline said, 'we ought to give a little dance. We could have this carpet up. Just a little dance--'

'But Henrietta and I,' Rose said distinctly, 'are going away.'

'Oh, nonsense! You must put it off. We ought to give a dance for the child. Now, how many couples? Ten, at least. Sophia, you're asleep.'

'No, dear. A party. I heard. But if you're ready now, I think I'll go to bed.'

'Go along. I'll follow.'