In the Year of Jubilee Part 62

'Miss. Lord--of Grove Lane.'

Immediately his countenance changed from deprecating solemnity to a broad smile of recognition.

'Miss. Lord! Oh, to be sure; I will give you the address at once. Pray pardon my questions; we have to be so very careful. So many people desire private interviews with Miss. French. I will jot down the address.'

He did so on the back of an advertis.e.m.e.nt, and added verbal directions.

Nancy hurried away.

Another cab conveyed her to Brixton, and set her down before a block of recently built flats. She ascended to the second floor, pressed the b.u.t.ton of a bell, and was speedily confronted by a girl of the natty parlour-maid species. This time she began by giving her name, and had only a moment to wait before she was admitted to a small drawing-room, furnished with semblance of luxury. A glowing fire and the light of an amber-shaded lamp showed as much fas.h.i.+onable upholstery and bric-a-brac as could be squeezed into the narrow s.p.a.ce. Something else was perceptible which might perhaps have been dispensed with; to wit, the odour of a very savoury meal, a meal in which fried onions had no insignificant part. But before the visitor could comment to herself upon this disadvantage attaching to flats, Beatrice joined her.

'I could hardly believe it! So you have really looked me up? Awfully jolly of you! I'm quite alone; we'll have a bit of dinner together.'

Miss. French was in her most expansive mood. She understood the call as one of simple friendliness.

'I wasn't sure that you knew the address. Got it at the shop? They don't go telling everybody, I hope--'

'Some one there seemed to know my name,' said Nancy, whom the warmth and light and cheery welcome encouraged in the step she had taken. And she explained.

'Ah, Mr. Clatworthy--rum old cove, when you get to know him. Yes, yes; no doubt he has heard me speak of you--in a general way, you know. Come into my snooze-corner, and take your things off.'

The snooze-corner, commonly called a bedroom, lacked one detail of comfort--pure air. The odour of dinner blending with toilet perfumes made an atmosphere decidedly oppressive. Beatrice remarked on the smallness of the chamber, adding archly, 'But I sleep single.'

'What's your brother doing?' she asked, while helping to remove Nancy's jacket. 'I pa.s.sed him in Oxford Street the other day, and he either didn't see me, or didn't want to. Thought he looked rather dissipated.'

'I know very little about him,' answered the visitor, who spoke and acted without reflection, conscious chiefly at this moment of faintness induced by fatigue and hunger.

'f.a.n.n.y's in Paris,' pursued Miss. French. 'Writes as if she was amusing herself. I think I shall run over and have a look at her. Seen Ada?

She's been playing the fool as usual. Found out that Arthur had taken the kid to his sister's at Canterbury; went down and made a deuce of a kick-up; they had to chuck her out of the house. Of course she cares no more about the child than I do; it's only to spite her husband. She's going to law with him, she says. She won't leave the house in De Crespigny Park, and she's running up bills--you bet!'

Nancy tried to laugh. The effort, and its semi-success, indicated surrender to her companion's spirit rather than any attention to the subject spoken of.

They returned to the drawing-room, but had not time to begin a conversation before the servant summoned them to dinner. A very satisfying meal it proved; not badly cooked, as cooking is understood in Brixton, and served with more of ceremony than the guest had expected.

Fried scallops, rump steak smothered in onions, an apple tart, and very sound Stilton cheese. Such fare testified to the virile qualities of Beatrice's mind; she was above the feminine folly of neglecting honest victuals. Moreover, there appeared two wines, sherry and claret.

'Did you ever try this kind of thing?' said the hostess finally, reaching a box of cigarettes.

'I?--Of course not,' Nancy replied, with a laugh.

'It's expected of a sensible woman now-a-days. I've got to like it.

Better try; no need to make yourself uncomfortable. Just keep the smoke in your mouth for half-a-minute, and blow it out prettily. I buy these in the Haymarket; special brand for women.'

'And you dine like this, by yourself, every day?'

'Like this, but not always alone. Some one or other drops in. Luckworth Crewe was here yesterday.'

Speaking, she watched Nancy, who bore the regard with carelessness, and replied lightly:

'It's an independent sort of life, at all events.'

'Just the kind of life that suits me. I'm my own mistress.'

There was a suggested allusion in the sly tone of the last phrase; but Nancy, thinking her own thoughts, did not perceive it. As the servant had left them alone, they could now talk freely. Beatrice, by her frequent glance of curiosity, seemed to await some explanation of a visit so unlooked-for.

'How are things going with you?' she asked at length, tapping the ash of her cigarette over a plate.

'I want something to do,' was the blunt reply.

'Too much alone--isn't that it?'

'Yes.'

'Just what I thought. You don't see him often?'

Nancy had ceased her pretence of smoking, and leaned back. A flush on her face, and something unwonted in the expression of her eyes,--something like a smile, yet touched with apathy,--told of physical influences which a.s.sisted her resolve to have done with scruple and delicacy. She handled her wine-gla.s.s, which was half full, and, before answering, raised it to her lips.

'No, I don't see him often.'

'Well, I told you to come to me if I could be any use. What's your idea?'

'Do you know of anything I could do? It isn't so much to earn money, as to--to be occupied, and escape from loneliness. But I must have two afternoons in the week to myself.'

Beatrice nodded and smiled.

'No,--not for that,' Nancy added hastily. 'To see my boy.'

The other appeared to accept this correction.

'All right. I think I can find you something. We're opening a branch.' She mentioned the locality. 'There'll be a club-room, like at headquarters, and we shall want some one ladylike to sit there and answer questions. You wouldn't be likely to see any one that knows you, and you'd get a good deal of fun out of it. Hours from ten to five, but Sat.u.r.day afternoon off, and Wednesday after three, if that would do?'

'Yes, that would do very well. Any payment, at first?'

'Oh, we wouldn't be so mean as all that. Say ten s.h.i.+llings a week till Christmas, and afterwards we could see'--she laughed--'whether you're worth more.'

'I know nothing about fas.h.i.+ons.'

'You can learn all you need to know in an hour. It's the ladylike appearance and talk more than anything else.'

Nancy sipped again from her wine-gla.s.s.

'When could I begin?'

'The place 'll be ready on Monday week. Next week you might put in a few hours with us. Just sit and watch and listen, that's all; to get the hang of the thing.'

'Thank you for being so ready to help me.'

'Not a bit of it. I haven't done yet. There's a condition. If I fix up this job for you, will you tell me something I want to know?'

Nancy turned her eyes apprehensively.