Part 1 (1/2)
Phantom Fortune.
by M. E. Braddon.
CHAPTER I.
PENELOPE.
People dined earlier forty years ago than they do now. Even that salt of the earth, the elect of society, represented by that little great world which lies between the narrow circle bounded by Bryanstone Square on the north and by Birdcage Walk on the south, did not consider seven o'clock too early an hour for a dinner party which was to be followed by routs, drums, concerts, conversazione, as the case might be. It was seven o'clock on a lovely June evening, and the Park was already deserted, and carriages were rolling swiftly along all the Westend squares, carrying rank, fas.h.i.+on, wealth, and beauty, political influence, and intellectual power, to the particular circle in which each was destined to illumine upon that particular evening.
Stateliest among London squares, Grosvenor--in some wise a wonder to the universe as newly lighted with gas--grave Grosvenor, with its heavy old Georgian houses and pompous porticoes, sparkled and shone, not alone with the novel splendour of gas, but with the light of many wax candles, cl.u.s.tering flower-like in silver branches and girandoles, multiplying their flame in numerous mirrors; and of all the houses in that stately square none had a more imposing aspect than Lord Denyer's dark red brick mansion, with stone dressings, and the ma.s.sive grandeur of an Egyptian mausoleum.
Lord Denyer was an important personage in the political and diplomatic world. He had been amba.s.sador at Constantinople and at Paris, and had now retired on his laurels, an influence still, but no longer an active power in the machine of government. At his house gathered all that was most brilliant in London society. To be seen at Lady Denyer's, evening parties was the guinea stamp of social distinction; to dine with Lord Denyer was an opening in life, almost as valuable as University honours, and more difficult of attainment.
It was during the quarter of an hour before dinner that a group of persons, mostly personages, congregated round Lord Denyer's chimney-piece, naturally trending towards the social hearth, albeit it was the season for roses and lilies rather than of fires, and the hum of the city was floating in upon the breath of the warm June evening through the five tall windows which opened upon Lord Denyer's balcony.
The ten or twelve persons a.s.sembled seemed only a sprinkling in the large lofty room, furnished spa.r.s.ely with amber satin sofas, a pair of Florentine marble tables, and half an acre or so of looking gla.s.s. Voluminous amber draperies shrouded the windows, and deadened the sound of rolling wheels, and the voices and footfalls of western London. The drawing rooms of those days were neither artistic nor picturesque--neither Early English nor Low Dutch, nor Renaissance, nor Anglo-j.a.panese. A stately commonplace distinguished the reception rooms of the great world. Upholstery stagnated at a dead level of fluted legs, gilding, plate gla.s.s, and amber satin.
Lady Denyer stood a little way in advance of the group on the hearthrug, fanning herself, with her eye on the door, while she listened languidly to the remarks of a youthful diplomatist, a sprig of a lordly tree, upon the last _debut_ at Her Majesty's Theatre.
'My own idea was that she screamed,' said her ladys.h.i.+p. 'But the new Rosinas generally do scream. Why do we have a new Rosina every year, whom n.o.body ever hears of afterwards? What becomes of them? Do they die, or do they set up as singing mistresses in second-rate watering-places?'
hazarded her ladys.h.i.+p, with her eye always on the door.
She was a large woman in amethyst satin, and a gauze turban with a diamond aigrette, a splendid jewel, which would not have misbeseemed the head-gear of an Indian prince. Lady Denyer was one of the last women who wore a turban, and that Oriental head-dress became her bold and ma.s.sive features.
Infinitely bored by the whiskerless attache, who had entered upon a disquisition on the genius of Rossini as compared with this new man Meyerbeer, her ladys.h.i.+p made believe to hear, while she listened intently to the confidential murmurs of the group on the hearthrug, the little knot of personages cl.u.s.tered round Lord Denyer. Hi 'Indian mail in this morning,' said one--'nothing else talked of at the club. Very flagrant case! A good deal worse than Warren Hastings. Quite clear there must be a public inquiry--House of Lords--criminal prosecution.'
'I was told on very good authority, that he has been recalled, and is now on his pa.s.sage home,' said another man.
Lord Denyer shrugged his shoulders, pursed up his lips, and looked ineffably wise, a way he had when he knew very little about the subject under discussion.
'How will _she_ take it, do you think?' inquired Colonel Madison, of the Life Guards, a man about town, and an inveterate gossip, who knew everybody, and everybody's family history, down to the peccadilloes of people's great grandmothers.
'You will have an opportunity of judging,' replied his lords.h.i.+p, coolly.
'She's to be here this evening.'
'But do you think she'll show?' asked the Colonel. 'The mail must have brought the news to her, as well as to other people--supposing she knew nothing about it beforehand. She must know that the storm has burst. Do you think she'll----'
'Come out in the thunder and lightning?' interrupted Lord Denver; 'I'm sure she will. She has the pride of Lucifer and the courage of a lion.
Five to one in ponies that she is here before the clock strikes seven!'
'I think you are right. I knew her mother, Constance Talmash. Pluck was a family characteristic of the Talmashes. Wicked as devils, and brave as lions. Old Talmash, the grandfather, shot his valet in a paroxysm of _delirium tremens_,' said Colonel Madison. 'She's a splendid woman, and she won't flinch. I'd rather back her than bet against her.'
'Lady Maulevrier!' announced the groom of the chambers; and Lady Denyer moved at least three paces forward to meet her guest.
The lady who entered, with slow and stately movements and proudly balanced head, might have served for a model as Juno or the Empress Livia. She was still in the bloom of youth, at most seven-and-twenty, but she had all the calm a.s.surance of middle-age. No dowager, hardened by the varied experiences of a quarter of a century in the great world, could have faced society with more perfect coolness and self-possession.
She was beautiful, and she let the world see that she was conscious of her beauty, and the power that went along with it. She was clever, and she used her cleverness with unfailing tact and unscrupulous audacity.