Part 9 (1/2)

Soon every one at court will be talking about you, the men praising your beauty, and insinuating ugly stories about your character, and the women wondering how any one can admire your doll's face or find any wit in what you say. Remember that the ordinary rule of law that one is deemed innocent until proved guilty is reversed in Whitehall. Here one is deemed guilty till one proves one's self innocent, and that is a difficult task.

Ah, my! It has been many a day since we have had any convincing proof!

Eh, Lady Wentworth?”

”Yes, yes, your Grace! Many a day, many a day! Ah, we are a sad, naughty court, I fear,” answered my Lady, with a penitent sigh. Her chief desire was to be a modish person; therefore she would not be left out of the iniquitous monde, though her face, if nothing else, placed her safely beyond the pale of Whitehall sin. One of the saddest things in life is to be balked in an honest desire to be wicked!

”Yes, you won't know yourself when your character comes back to you, filtered through many mouths,” said the d.u.c.h.ess, laughing. ”But don't take offence; retaliate!”

”My cousin will have to learn the art, your Grace,” I suggested.

”Ah, I have a thought!” cried the d.u.c.h.ess, turning to Frances. ”Nothing succeeds like novelty here at court. Be novel. Don't abuse people save to their faces, but don't spare any one then. Remember that a biting epigram is the best loved form of wit among us Sodomites. We love it for its own sake, but more for the pain it gives the other fellow. We like to see him squirm, and we have many a joyous hour over our friends' misfortunes.

Turn yourself into a mental bodkin, and you will find favor among us, for it is better to be feared than loved in our happy family.”

”Ah, how beautiful!” cried Lady Wentworth, determined to be heard, even though never addressed.

”But as I have said,” continued the d.u.c.h.ess, ”try, if you can, to be novel, and be a bodkin only to the victim's face, save, of course, in the case of a new bit of racy scandal. That must be used to the greatest advantage as soon as possible, for scandal, like unsalted b.u.t.ter, will not keep.”

The d.u.c.h.ess laughed, as though speaking in jest, but she was in earnest and spoke the truth.

”But I must learn the current faults of my friends-to-be,” suggested Frances, laughing, ”so that I may not fall into the unpardonable error of repeating an old story. Stale scandal is doubtless an offence in the ear of the Anointed.”

The Anointed was the king.

”That is true,” returned the d.u.c.h.ess, seriously. ”Old scandals bore him, but if, by good fortune, a rich new bit comes your way, save it for our Rowley, whisper it in his ear and forget it. Leave to him the pleasure of disseminating it. He dearly loves the 'ohs' and 'ahs' of delight incident to the telling of a racy tale. But I'll take you in hand one of these days and tell you how best to please the king, though your beauty will make all other means mere surplusage. To please the king, you need but be yourself; to please my husband, the duke, is even an easier task. He is everybody's friend. They will be wanting to divorce the queen and me for your sake. Two such fools about pretty women the world has never known before and I hope never will again. To see the two royal brothers ogling and smiling and smirking is better than a play. I used to be disgusted, but now it amuses me. So if my husband makes love to you, don't fear that I shall be offended, and if the king makes love to you, as he surely will, have no fear of the queen. She is used to it.”

”I shall try to please every one,” said Frances.

”No, no, no!” cried the d.u.c.h.ess. ”That would be your ruin! A dog licks the hand that smites it. We're all dogs. Every failure I have known at court has come from too great a desire to please.”

Frances laughed uneasily, for she knew she was hearing the truth, disguised as a jest. After a moment's silence, she asked:--

”May I not at least try to please your Grace? And may I not seek your advice and thank you now and then for a reprimand?”

”Yours is the first request of the sort I have ever heard from a maid of honor, and I shall take you at your word,” said the d.u.c.h.ess. ”I'm not posing as the head of a morality school, but if I may, I shall try to be your guide.”

Lady Wentworth was almost comatose with pride--”pride on the brain”

Frances afterwards called it.

Presently her Grace continued seriously. ”The king will make love to you on sight. If he fails in obtaining a satisfactory response, he may affect to be offended for a few days, during which time my husband may try his hand. Failing, he will smile and will withdraw to make room for Rowley's return attack. Rowley's return will be in earnest, and then will come your trial, for the whole court will fawn upon you, will lie about you, and beg your favor for them with the king.”

”Surely it is a delightful prospect,” returned my cousin, smiling.

”Oh, delightful, delightful!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Lady Wentworth in a semilucid interval.

”Now I'll send for the Mother of the Maids,” said her Grace, ”who will show you to your rooms and instruct you in the duties, forms, and ceremonies of court. I suppose you dance the country dances. They are the king's favorites. He calls the changes.”

”Yes, your Grace,” answered Frances.