Comedies of Courtship Part 16

When the supper was ready Sir Roger Deane looked round the table inquiringly.

"Well," said he, "what is it to be?"

"Champagne--champagne in magnums!" cried Charlie Ellerton, with a ringing laugh.

CHAPTER IX

MR. AND MRS. ASHFORTH (2)

Miss Bussey was much relieved when the doctor p.r.o.nounced her convalescent and allowed her to come downstairs. To fall ill on an outing is always exasperating, but beyond that she felt that her enforced seclusion was particularly unfortunate at the moment. Here were two young people, not engaged nor going to be engaged to one another; and for three days or more circ.u.mstances had abandoned them to an inevitable and unchaperoned tete-a-tete! Mary made light of it; she relied on the fraternal relations.h.i.+p, but that was, after all, a fiction, quite incapable, in Miss Bussey's opinion, of supporting the strain to which It had been subjected. Besides Mary's sincerity appeared doubtful; the kind girl, anxious to spare her aunt worry, made light of the difficulties of her position, but Miss Bussey detected a restlessness in her manner which clearly betrayed uneasiness. Here, of course, Miss Bussey was wrong; neither Mary nor John were the least self-conscious; they felt no embarra.s.sment, but, poor creatures, wore out their spirits in a useless vigil over the letter-rack.

Miss Bussey was restored to active life on the morning after the party from Cannes arrived in Paris, and she hastened to emphasize the fact of her return to complete health by the unusual effort of coming down to breakfast. She was in high feather, and her cheery conversation lifted, to some extent, the gloom which had settled on her young friends. While exhorting to patience she was full of hope, and dismissed as chimerical all the darker explanations which the disconsolate lovers invented to account for the silence their communications had met with. Under her influence the breakfast-table became positively cheerful, and at last all the three burst into a hearty laugh at one of the old lady's little jokes.

At this moment Arthur Laing entered the room. His brow was clouded. He had searched his purse, his cigar-case, the lining of his hat--in fact every depository where a careful man would be likely to bestow doc.u.ments whose existence he wished to remember; as no careful man would put such things in the pocket of his 'blazer', he had not searched there; thus the telegrams had not appeared, and the culprit was looking forward, with some alarm, to the reception which would await him when he 'turned up' to lunch with his friends, as he had promised to do. Hardly, however, had he sat down to his coffee when his sombre thoughts were cleared away by the extraordinary spectacle of young Mr. and Mrs. Ashforth hobn.o.bbing with their maid, the latter lady appearing quite at home and leading the gayety and the conversation.

Laing laid down his roll and his knife and looked at them in undisguised amazement.

For a moment doubt of his cherished theory began to a.s.sail his mind.

He heard the old lady call Ashforth "John;" that was a little strange, and it was rather strange that John answered by saying: "That must be as you wish; I am entirely at your disposal." And yet, reflected Laing, was it very strange, after all? In his own family they had an old retainer who called all the children, whatever their age, by their Christian names, and was admitted to a degree of intimacy hardly distinguishable from that accorded to a relative.

Laing, weighing the evidence pro and contra, decided that there was an overwhelming balance in favor of his old view, and dismissed the matter with the comment that, if it ever befell him to go on a wedding-tour, he would ask his wife to take a maid with rather less claims on her kindness and his toleration.

That same morning the second pair of telegrams, forwarded by post from Cannes, duly arrived. Dora and Charlie, reading them in the light of their recent happy information, found them most kind and comforting, although in reality they, apart from their missing forerunners, told the recipients nothing at all. John's ran: "Am in Paris at European.

Please write. Anxious to hear. Everything decided for the best.--John."

Mary's to Charlie was even briefer; it said, "Am here at European. Why no answer to last?"

"It's really very kind of Mr. Ashforth," said Dora to Charlie, as they strolled in the garden of the Tuileries, "to make such a point of what I think. I expect the wire that stupid Mr. Laing lost was just to tell me the date of the marriage."

"Not a doubt of it. Miss Tr--Mrs. Ashforth's wire to me makes that clear. They want to hear that we're not desperately unhappy. Well, we aren't, are we, Dolly?"

"Well, perhaps not."

"Isn't it extraordinary how we mistook our feelings? Of course, though, it's natural in you. You had never been through anything of the sort before. How could you tell whether it was the real thing or not?"

Dora shot a glance out of the corner of her eye at her lover, but did not disclaim the innocence he imputed to her; she knew men liked to think that, and why shouldn't they, poor things? She seized on his implied admission and carried the war into his country.

"But you,--you who are so experienced--how did you come to make such a mistake?"

Charlie was not at a loss.

"It wasn't a mistake _then_," he said. "I was quite right then. Mary Travers was about the nicest girl I had ever seen. I thought her as charming as a girl could be."

"Oh, you did! Then why----"

"My eyes have been opened since then."

"What did that?"

"Why don't you ever p.r.o.nounce my name?"

"Never mind your name. What opened your eyes?"

"Why, yours, of course."

"What nonsense! They're very nice about it, aren't they? Do you think we ought to call?"

"Shall you feel it awkward?"

"Yes, a little. Shan't you? Still we must let them know we're here.

Will you write to Mrs. Ashforth?"

"I suppose I'd better. After lunch 'll do, won't it?"

"Oh, yes. And I'll write a note to him. I expect they won't be staying here long."

"I hope not. Hullo, it's a quarter past twelve. We must be getting back. Laing's coming to lunch."

"Where arc the Deanes?"

"Lady Deane's gone to Belleville with your father to see slums, and Roger's playing tennis with Laing. He said we weren't to wait lunch.

Are you hungry, Dolly?"

"Not very. It seems only an hour since breakfast."

"How charming of you! We've been walking here since ten o'clock."

"Mr. Ellerton, will you be serious for a minute? I want to say something important. When we meet the Ashforths there mustn't be a word said about--about--you know."

"Why not?"

"Oh, I couldn't! So soon! Surely you see that. Why, it would be hardly civil to them, would it, apart from anything else?"

"Well, it might look rather casual."

"And I positively couldn't face John Ashforth. You promise, don't you?"

"It's a nuisance, because, you see, Dolly----

"You're not to get into the habit of saying 'Dolly'. At least not yet."

"Presently?"

"If you're good. Now promise!"

"All right."