B007TB5SP0 EBOK (33 page)

Palmer cleared her throat.

‘I doubt it! …’ she said. ‘When I went out into the world my dear mother told me a little about
them
… There was the adventure of Titia Clarges … She was one of those smart girls like the Midianites in Paris. Believe me, senility takes some scaring.’

‘Chatterbox!’

‘What is the matter with Elizabeth?’

Elizabeth hid her face.

‘There’s a man,’ she said, ‘Miss Clint, carrying on in such a crazy way … I think he means to draw us!’

‘Let him ask permission.’

‘All this note-taking out of doors in my opinion really isn’t nice. I’d as soon start hair-dressing in the street.’

‘It’s on the cards you may. Professor Cowsend is to lecture in the Museum shortly from busts and coins and vases upon the Classic Coiffure. “I shall expect you to attend,” Miss O’Brookomore said to me. “It is never too l-l-late to learn! Campstools, flowers, unguents, pins and
peignoirs
provided. And we just sit down and do each other’s hair.” ’

‘He’ll not catch me there, I can promise him!’

‘There’ll be a prize.’

‘So I should hope!’

‘The winner will have her expenses to any one of the islands – a day off.’

‘Who’d take an airing here from choice?’

‘
Alone!
’

‘Sprinkle ashes over me,’ Elizabeth murmured, ‘sooner!’

‘Because Miss O’Brookomore’s a bit of a blue-stocking it doesn’t signify that Dorinda, Lady Gaiheart’s that way! Ours is quite another story. We’re here to be nearer to Colonel Sweetish, who’s at Malta …’

‘In your place, I’d not own it.’

‘How we do enjoy the saline breezes! “Where’s the wind?” “Which way’s the wind?” “I don’t know, your ladyship,” I reply, “but it’s as keen as mustard!” ’

Palmer examined her nails.

‘My mistress isn’t that sort,’ she said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘When I tapped at her door one night she didn’t seem earthly. She came out to me with her pen in her hand, looking quite deranged – and old! My word! More like a mummy!’

‘Worn out in intellectual excesses I dare say.’

‘
When she’s with Miss Mabel she looks quite different.
’

‘Were ever footsteps more out of tune!’

‘An old dirge and a valse!’

Elizabeth giggled.

‘Don’t forget, Miss Palmer,’ she said, ‘you’ve promised to dance with me to-night when the band begins.’

‘Surely; only bear it, please, in mind, I never will dance gentleman.’

‘It doesn’t matter. The chef said directly he’d finished he’d—’

‘Finish me!’

‘Whereabouts now were you born?’

‘What makes you so inquisitive?’

‘I could tell a London voice anywhere! Even in the dark.’

‘Hammersmith’s my home.’

‘Hammersm—’

The Captive Women stared before them.

It was a bright and windy evening, with a mist that almost hid the sea. Now and then across Hymettos at a hint of sun swept a few pale shadows.

Miss Clint scanned the great groups of sailing clouds.

‘Come along, girls,’ she murmured. ‘If it comes on to rain and we in our
derniers cris …
!’

‘Night came with a big brown moon … Ignatius knocked repeatedly on the door. At last a feeble voice – it was Haidèe’s – cried: “Come in! …” And I was led into the room by a Cowley Father. Oh, good gracious!’

‘Go on … His tired ecstasy makes me—’

‘How’s the poor head?’

‘The dove did it good.’

‘I shouldn’t have thought you had held it long enough.’

‘Quite long enough.’

‘Soon it’ll grow weary of flying about the room.’

‘It sickens me so to watch it.’

Miss Collins got up stealthily.

‘Coo!’

‘Don’t, Mabel.’

‘It’s looking at us both, dear, as much as to say …’

Miss O’Brookomore tittered.

‘I believe all the time you’re shamming.’

‘Oh, very well!’

‘I’d do anything for you, Gerald.’

‘That’s sweet …’

‘… It’s exploring the ceiling now!’

‘Open the window wide.’

‘Oh, listen! What tune is it? It’s a slow-step of some sort.’

The Biographer sat up slightly among her pillows.

‘It sounds like the Incest-music,’ she murmured, ‘to some new opera.’

‘Oh, Gerald … You do look bad. Upon my word you do.’

‘Really, Mabel, you have the tongue of a midwife, my dear.’

‘I’d run over to the pharmacy willingly if you thought … It was they who invented the “Eau de Parnasse”. It’s made mostly out of sunflower seed. It’s really
violets
.’

‘You’d stop to dance on the way!’

‘Well? And if I did!’

‘Just lately I’ve felt so nervous. I don’t know why!’

‘Accidents don’t occur in a room full of people. Not often.’

‘It depends.’

‘Be good, Gerald. Now, there’s a dear.’

Miss O’Brookomore seemed touched.

‘Run, twirl, dance, spin!’ she said, ‘and come back in ten minutes.’

‘You’re an angel.’

‘Carry me in your thoughts!’

‘What good could
that
do you, Gerald?’

‘Enjoy yourself – that’s all.’

In a black gauze gown with glorious garnitures, her hair tied up behind in a very Greek way, Miss Collins walked out into the hall where Miss Arne, to her surprise, was drilling a huge recruit.

‘ “Good day, Lampito,” ’ she was saying, ‘ “dear friend from Lacedaemon. How well and handsome you look! What a rosy complexion! and how strong you seem; why, you could strangle a bull surely!” ’

The Australian girl grew rigid.

‘ “Yes, indeed,” ’ she drawled, ‘ “I really think I could. ’Tis because I do gymnastics and practise the kick dance.” ’

‘There, of course, I think Lampito should throw up a leg. We’d better begin again.’

Miss Collins paused.

‘Haven’t you got it pat by this time?’ she inquired.

Miss Arne waved a fan with the names of some old adorers scribbled across the sticks.

‘Art,’ she remarked, ‘doesn’t like being jostled. How’s your friend?’

‘Gerald? She’s pretty bad.’

‘Health is like a revue. It comes and goes. Even I – in the
morning when I rise I feel fit enough – at least! … But by lunch-time I’m exhausted … and then in the evening I’m myself again! …’

‘Oh, good gracious!’

The Australian girl sat down.

‘Phew! … It’s warm acting!’ she observed.

‘We might have an ice.’

‘Won’t you have a Vermouth-Cobbler with me?’

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s just a drink.’

‘Is it refreshing?’

‘As a liqueur,’ Miss Collins said, ‘there’s nothing like
mint sauce
. You can’t fancy what it’s like alone.’

The Colonial looked intriguing.

‘Tell me about the stage,’ she implored, ‘or of the people on your fan.’

‘I’ve forgotten! I forget!’

‘Who’s
Wellbridge
?’

‘Ah! Dublin was a gay place when
he
was viceroy there …’

‘Silent Stanley!’

‘At the Garden Theatre he was Bassanio …’

‘Freddy Fortune?’

‘Oh, my dear, he was the lover in Lady Twyford’s last play. He’s the paramour in all her pieces.’

‘Alice.’

Miss Arne took back her fan.

‘I rang,’ she said to the waiter. ‘It’s for an ice.’

Miss Collins turned towards the ball-room. People either were pushing their way in or struggling to get out.

The Count touched her arm.

‘Could you spare me half-an-ear for half-a-minute?’ he asked.

‘I’d sooner dance, if you don’t mind.’

‘Are you fond of dancing?’

‘I love it. Every winter nearly we give a ball. At least Mrs Collins does … It’s really for me and Daisy … We begin about half-past five and go on till about eight. After that there’s a wizard.’

‘Outside the snow would be falling. The land would be white.’

‘Naturally
we
supply the rabbits.’

‘Have you much shooting?’

‘We get all Lord Linco’s birds as they fly across.’

The Count sighed.

‘With us,’ he said, ‘it’s mostly hares and larks.’

‘I suppose you mean the Opera.’

‘Indeed no!’

‘Are you in the country much?’

‘Now and then. My mother, you see, is obliged to be a good deal in Orvieto. She has also an apartment in Rome.’

Miss Collins was mystified.

‘
Apartments?
’ she asked.

‘An apartment, a flat, a floor – it is the first floor.’

‘Oh, good gracious!’

‘This is your very first season, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t know. I shouldn’t care to say!’

‘Excuse me.’

‘I live like a buried diamond half the year.’

‘Enjoy yourself now.’

‘Ah, that’s … easier said than done …’

‘Your friend ought not to be too hard on you.’

‘Gerald isn’t really hard … You wouldn’t say so if you knew her well … Once she bought a little calf for some special binding, but let it grow up … and now it’s a cow!’

They swung slowly out into the throng.

‘I know this dance well. It’s
Lady Randolph and the Old Shepherd
!’

‘The old shepherd part is charming.’

Miss Collins looked languid.

‘Would you care to Cook me?’ she asked.

‘Cook you?’

‘Show me round.’

‘Certainly. I should be delighted.’

All Athens was responding to the dance. To Elizabeth, craning from the stairs, it seemed that the men resembled big black pearls while the women diamond drops—

‘We might sit the rest out.’

‘Of course it’s just as you like …’

‘There’s such a moon!’

‘I’ve just been reading to Gerald about the moon – a big brown one!’

‘Do you read a lot?’

‘Lately, out of pure politeness, I’ve been dipping into some of Gerald’s spawn. But I never open a book unless I’m obliged. And my sister’s just the same. Poor mite, she can’t! … Oh, she’s such a pickle! She is really
too
obstreperous … You never know what she’s up to!’

Mrs Arbanel approached.

‘What weapons can you muster,’ she asked, ‘besides darts?’

‘Darts?’

‘Did you bring a gun?’

‘Gerald has a gold revolver. “
Honour
” she calls it.’

‘Well, to-morrow I and a few other women are going wild-duck shooting round Salamis, if you would care to come.’

‘Oh, wouldn’t I enjoy it!’

‘We meet outside the church in the Rue d’Hermès at ten o’clock.’

‘Gerald is very particular about whom she meets.’

‘She can pick and choose. We’re sure to be rather a band.’

‘I don’t know what Gerald will say …’

‘I noticed there was a tray outside her door.’

‘We did all we could to tempt her. But she took her tea. And that was a mercy.’

‘It’s nothing, I hope, serious?’

‘She gets these turns … I think it’s due to diet. Lately she has complained so much of her extraordinarily vivid dreams …’

Mrs Arbanel smiled darkly.

‘When I dream,’ she said, ‘I’m watching most.’

‘What – for instance?’

‘How do I know?’

‘Then don’t expect me to say.’

Mrs Arbanel addressed the ‘Hippolytus Charioteer’ upon the ceiling.

‘At the Rotunda,’ she murmured, as she moved away, ‘please to turn …’

‘What could she mean?’

‘I’ve not the least idea!’

‘Be careful of her if you go!’

‘She’s a jealous fury …’

‘Her husband appears completely depressed.’

‘I fancy he wants me to dance.’

‘Don’t! And never let him.’

‘Why not?’

‘Little miss, when love springs under your nose! …’

‘Love? …’

‘Only dance with me!’

‘No. I’m going back to Gerald. Were anything to happen to her while I’m off duty I should never forgive myself.’

Miss O’Brookomore had lowered her lights.

‘Is that you, Mabel?’ she asked.

‘How’s the poor head?’

‘I’ve been drowsing.’

‘I’m glad you could manage that.’

‘Isn’t the band
awful
?’

‘Boom, boom, boom …’

‘Did you have a nice time?’

‘I’ve found out one or two things by going down.’

‘What things?’

‘Oh, Gerald, his mother keeps Apartments!’

‘There. What did I tell you?’

‘She has an Apartment in Rome. And I suppose it’s a Boarding-house in the country …’

‘Well, to be sure!

‘After all, dear, Lady Frithelstock sells her fruit!’

‘Even so!’

‘And he has asked me, I think, to marry him.’

‘He’s proposed?’

‘Of course it’s purely verbal …’

‘What did he say?’

‘First he asked to speak to me … and then he said, “Little miss,” he said, “when Love springs under your nose! …” That was his expression.’

‘A pretty one. But it has nothing to do with marriage. Oh, Mabel!’

‘I long to be loved, Gerald.’

‘My dear.’

‘When he spoke of love it made me feel so important.’

Miss O’Brookomore looked grim.

‘You’ve yet to learn, I find, what frivolous things men are …’

‘What has that got to do with it, Gerald?’

‘Be patient. You are sure to find a better
parti
.’

‘A party?’

‘A girl like you.’

‘And Mrs Arbanel has invited us to join her at a shoot.’

‘In town?’

‘At Salamis.’

‘It’s so far off …’

‘Bring “Honour”, she said.’

‘Honour’s no use. It won’t go off!’

‘Oh, good gracious!’

‘Besides, if I went I would lie on the Plage and watch you all.’

‘Gracious me, Gerald!’

‘It’s the dove again!’

‘Unless I’m much mistaken, dear, that bird will stay in the room all night.’

A warm, miraculous morning made the Athenian pavements split.

Before an Ikon in the little dark building of the Kapnikaraea Miss O’Brookomore knelt. And if she stopped long upon her knees most likely it was more that she found herself comfortable than anything else.

Miss Collins touched her arm.

‘Oh, Gerald, we’re all waiting for you,’ she said.

‘I’m just coming.’