Part 16 (1/2)

Octavia said to me, as we went upstairs before lunch, that they were a set of cats and harpies, and she hated them all, only unfortunately the others--the nice good ones--taken _en bloc_ made things so dull, it was better to put up with this set. Then she kissed me as I went into my room and said; ”At this time of the world's day, my little Elizabeth, there is no use in fighting windmills.”

At luncheon Lord Valmond sat next to me; he said we had been horrid not to have wanted him to spend the morning with us, and would I let him teach me ”Bridge” afterwards? I said I really was not a bit interested in cards, but he said it was a delightful game, so I said All right.

After lunch in the saloon I overheard Mrs. Murray-Hartley say to Lady Greswold that she feared this awful weather would make her party a failure, and what was she to do to amuse them this afternoon? So Lady Greswold said: ”Leave 'em alone with plenty of opportunities to talk to their friends, and it will be all right.” And so she did.

[Sidenote: _An Afternoon at Cards_]

Lord Valmond and I found a nice little table in a corner by the fire, and we began to turn over the cards, and presently every one disappeared, except Lady Doraine and Mr. Wertz, who played Patience or something, beyond one of the Spanish leather screens; and Lady Bobby and Lord Oldfield, who were smoking cigarettes together on the big sofa. We could just hear their voices murmuring. You can't play ”Bridge” with only two people, I find, and when Lord Valmond had explained the principles to me, I was none the wiser. I suppose I was thinking of something else, and he said I was a stupid little thing, but in such a nice voice, and then we talked and did not worry about the cards. But after a while he said he thought it was draughty for me in the saloon, and it would be cosier in one of the sitting-rooms, but I would not go, Mamma, as I did not find it at all cold.

[Sidenote: _Lord Doraine intrudes_]

Then Lord Doraine came in, and went over and disturbed everybody in turn, and finally sat down by us, and Lady Bobby laughed out loud, and Lady Doraine peeped round the screen with her mischievous tortoise-sh.e.l.l cat expression, so I just said I would go and dress for tea, and came upstairs. I am sure they were all trying to make me feel uncomfortable, but I didn't a bit. I heard them shrieking with laughter as I left, and I caught a glimpse of Lord Valmond's face, and it was set as hard as iron.

Octavia wants me to wear my only other new ball dress to-night, the white gauze, so I suppose I must, and I do hope the rain will stop before we start.--With love from your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.

_P.S._--Agnes says she won't sup downstairs, as there was so much champagne in the ”room” last night that several of the valets got drunk, and she thinks it is not _distingue_.

Foljambe Place,

_Wednesday_.

[Sidenote: _Sir Hugh d'Eynecourt_]

Dearest Mamma,--Octavia is writing to you, and we have such a piece of news for you! I will tell you presently.

Part of the ball last night was quite delightful, and fortunately the rain had stopped before we started, in fact, I saw the stars s.h.i.+ning when I looked out on my way down to tea. A new man had arrived, Sir Hugh d'Eynecourt, I remember you have often spoken of him. He is nice-looking though quite old, over forty, I should think. It appears he has been away from the world for more than two years; he has only come to this party now because Lady Bobby made him; he met her lately, and is a great friend of hers. The other men, Lord Doraine, &c., were chaffing him by the fireplace--no one else was down--and they did say such odd things. Tom asked him why he had disappeared for so long, and he said, Time was, when--if one stuck to one's own cla.s.s--to live and love was within the reach of any gentleman, but since the fas.h.i.+on of the long strings of pearls came in, it had become more expensive than the other cla.s.s, and he could not compete with Jews and financiers, so he had gone to live quietly in Paris. I don't know what it meant, but it seemed to amuse them all awfully.

[Sidenote: _The Perfect Height_]

When they saw me sitting on the sofa they stopped talking at once, and then began about how horrid the day had been; and Sir Hugh was introduced and asked about you. He said I was not nearly so pretty as you had been at my age, but I should do, he dared say. Then when I stood up, and he saw my height, he said that he had always thought five foot seven a perfect measure for women, so I said I did feel disappointed, as I was only five foot six and three-quarters; he laughed and whispered, ”Oh yes, I am sure you will do--very well indeed.” He is charming, and he says he will be an uncle to me.