Part 12 (1/2)
”But your conscience? The Nonconformist conscience? Are you sure you could enjoy--?”
”She's your visitor, not mine. I have no scruples. Only give me the chance!”
”On your head be it!” cried Ca.s.sandra, and bending low, darted between the shrubs towards a winding path which led in the opposite direction from the house. Peignton followed with eager steps.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
THE SKIRTS OF CHANCE.
Now that Lent was over dinner parties came on with a rush, started, as was only discreet, with a state gathering at the Court, when the county was invited to welcome the bride. The Vicar and his wife were the sole representatives of Chumley proper, but Dane Peignton was in request, as an odd man is bound to be in the countryside.
”It will be deadly dull,” Ca.s.sandra had warned her friend, ”but it has to be done. Brace up, and go through it bravely, and if you don't like it you need never try again.”
”I won't,” Grizel said frankly. ”A duty is a duty, and has to be done whether you like it or not, but I choose my pleasures to suit myself.
If I'm amused I'll go,--if I'm not, all the saddles of mutton in the world won't tempt me. It always amuses me to be with you, my dear, but judging from the specimens I've already seen, it's a very, very heavy county. The women are heavy in the afternoon. I tremble to think of what they must be in the drawing-room after dinner. Could I do anything to jolt them up? Put on a black gown, or do a little skirt dancing, or tell stories? I could tell some awakening stories!”
But Ca.s.sandra shook her head and issued her orders.
”You are to wear your wedding dress, and behave yourself like a sweet young bride, and do credit to yourself, and to me, and to your husband's books! When you go to Rome, do as the Romans do.”
When the night of the dinner arrived the sweet young bride repaired to her husband's dressing-room _en route_ from the bathroom to her own apartment, and squatted on the floor to watch _him_ shave, with her white gown wrapped around a foam of lacey under-garments, and her white shoes kicked off on to the rug. She looked young, and fresh, and blooming, and brought with her a delicious odour of violets, and it appeared to afford her intense satisfaction to watch Martin lather his chin, and twist it from side to side for the convenience of the safety razor.
”Darling, you _do_ look plain! I love you dreadfully when I see you shave. All that trouble to spare me a beard! ... Don't cut yourself, like a precious. I do so object to bits of cotton-wool... Doesn't it feel nice and married to have me sitting here, watching you, in my bare tootsies, and knowing that even the Vicaress herself could not object?
She'll be there to-night, you know.What will she wear?--A black satin, cut in a V, with a pendant of agate, and a cap with an aigrette. Dear thing! I must remember to enquire for the Mothers' Meeting.”
Martin, his chin violently undulating, murmured a word which was evidently of a warning nature, but Grizel took no notice. Her hands were clasped round her knees, she was smiling, in a soft reflective fas.h.i.+on.
”No,” she said slowly, ”no! this first year must be just for ourselves.--I am so thankful that Katrine is away and so happy, for our own sakes, as well as her own. I am thankful there are no other near relatives to trouble about. I don't want _Anyone_ to come between us this first year, not even--that! A year or two alone together we must have, and then,--we'll pray for twins!”
Martin's sureness of hand alone saved him from the necessity of cotton-wool. He turned round, smiling, lathered, twinkling with humour.
”Why be so greedy? Surely _one_--”
”No, no--two would be twice as nice. You get on so slowly with one at a time.” She bent her head still lower, so that her chin rested upon her knees; her golden eyes stared into s.p.a.ce, her shoulders heaved with a regretful sigh. ”No,” she said at last, ”no! I suppose it would not do. Triplets _are_ vulgar, but oh, Martin, think of it!--_three_ ducks, all in a row, each with its long white tail, and its little ribbons round its wrists, and its little gold sovereign hanging round its neck... The Queen's Bounty! And oh, Martin, think, think! what an advertis.e.m.e.nt for your books... It would be in all the papers. 'Mrs Martin Beverley, wife of the well-known novelist, yesterday became the mother of three daughters. (They must be daughters!) Later enquiries at the house elicited the news that the mother and family were all doing well.'”
”Really, Grizel! really!” cried Martin, protesting. ”You make me blush.”
”Oh, well!” Grizel sighed, and rose to her feet in one swift, astonis.h.i.+ngly agile movement. ”Bear up. There's no use getting agitated before the time. It might be only twins!”
She strolled out of the room, and seating herself on the chair before her own mirror, gave herself into the hands of the waiting maid.
”Now then, Marie, make me look like a sweet young bride.”
Marie looked complacent. It was easy to obey that order, since her mistress was radiant with beauty and happiness, and there lay waiting on the bed a gown, which looked as if it had been blown straight out of a fairy tale for her adornment. The ordinary white satin was far too dull and substantial to have a place in its concoction. It was a ma.s.s of cobweb lace of extraordinary antiquity and frailness, mounted on a lining of silver gauze. The fine folds accentuated the reed-like slimness of Grizel's figure, the misty indefiniteness of shading suited to a marvel the small face, with its white cheeks and amber eyes, that face which was at once so colourless, and so aglow. Marie looking at the reflection in the mirror, pushed aside the cases of jewels, and lifting a piece of tulle swathed it lightly round her mistress' head, allowing one long end to flow down the back. It was unconventional, it was daring, but the effect was irresistible, and Marie stood aside heaving a sigh of triumph.
”No jewels. Only the gauze. In effect--a veil!”
So it came to pa.s.s that when Mr and Mrs Beverley made their entrance into the great drawing-room of the _Court_, there came to one and all of the a.s.sembled guests the impression of a creature half human, half fairy, poised midway between heaven and earth, aglow with that absolute, unshadowed happiness, which is seldom given to mortals to see or to enjoy. It was indeed the primitive note in Grizel's temperament, which made such a condition possible. The least introspective of mortals, she accepted happiness as manna from heaven, throve on to-day's supply, and confidently expected the morrow's supply. The minor trials, which would have dimmed the rapture of another bride, p.r.i.c.ked her for the moment, and were then cast aside, and dismissed from thought, as completely as though they had never existed. There were occasions when such abstraction brought about material _contretemps_, but of the mental lightening there could be no doubt.
Everyone in the room received the same impression of radiance as the bride entered, but on the different minds the impression acted differently. The Vicar's wife, clad as had been foretold, in black satin and aigretted cap, but showing a pendant of cameo, instead of agate, on the discreet decolletage, felt a sudden unreasoning disposition towards tears, and the good man, her husband, breathed a mental ”G.o.d keep her!” but the Hon. Mrs Mawson was distinctly shocked.