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Flaming June

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<h3>Chapter Sixteen.</h3> Cornelia was surprised to find that her friends were not already housed at the Ritz, but had been staying at a private hotel, in a dull side street, where the cab called on the way from the station, to take up a pile of luggage lying ready packed in the hall. “The fashionable hotels are all crowded out in the season,” Mrs Moffatt explained. “We’ve had our names down for ages at the Ritz, but it was impossible to get in before to-day. I don’t know as we should have managed even now, if it hadn’t been for you, dear. It worked wonders when we said you would be one of the party. You don’t mind having your name mentioned, do you? You’ve just got to play up to these managers, if you don’t want to be put off for ever, or poked away in a back room.” “Oh, I don’t mind,” said Cornelia, easily. “If my name is of any use, use it for all you’re worth. I shouldn’t have supposed anyone would know it over here. They don’t in Norton.” “My dear, the hotel is crammed full of Americans, and any one of them would say it was poor business to refuse the daughter of Edward B Briskett. The connection might be worth a heap, if you went home and allowed you were satisfied. Silas don’t count for anything—he’s no push! We might have waited for ever if it had been left to him!” To judge by the hangdog expression of the said Silas as he came forward to greet his guest at the door of the Ritz, the success attending his wife’s manoeuvres had not inspired him with any particular joy. Cornelia thought he looked more henpecked than ever, but he received her warmly, and hovered round to assist with the smaller impedimenta, while his wife hurried forward into the hotel. Inside all was brightness and gaiety; little parties of visitors grouped here and there about the large, light hall; obsequious clerks bowing before one, hoping that the rooms reserved might give satisfaction; begging to be informed if any comfort were lacking; summoning waiters to show the way to the lift. Cornelia was annoyed to notice that most of these attentions were directed towards herself, but as Mrs Moffatt did not appear to take umbrage, it seemed wisest to make no protest. The mistake was not likely to occur again, for with so many guests in the house, individual attention could not extend beyond the arrival civilities. Tea was served in the Empire suite, which had been reserved for the party, and Cornelia hated herself for feeling so little in sympathy with a host and hostess whose one anxiety seemed to be to provide for her enjoyment. From a printed list of amusements, she was bidden to make her choice for every evening in the week; for the afternoons, river-picnics were suggested, coaching expeditions to outlying scenes of interest, drives in the Park. For the mornings—well, naturally, there was just one thing to be done in the morning, and that was shopping! “I hope you’ve brought up heaps of money, my dear. You’ll need it. The things are just heavenly this season!” Mrs Moffatt declared, but Cornelia remained unfired. “I’ve a circular note; it’s all right so far as that goes, but I shan’t want any more clothes for ages! I brought over a whole trousseau, and so far as I can see, the half will go back unpacked. They don’t dress down at Norton—they clothe! You’ve got to be covered right up to the chin, and to work in all the blue serge you can, and that’s about all there is to it. If you fixed-up like we do at home, you’d make as much stir as the fire-engine. I’d like to mail a few presents, if I saw anything really new and snappy, but I shan’t go near a store for myself.” “I shall, then!” cried Mrs Moffatt, laughing. “I got next to nothing in Paris. The shops over there aren’t a patch on London, in my opinion, and the language puts one off. I can’t get the hang of it, and it gets on my nerves fitting on clothes, and not being able to find fault. You’ll have to come round with me, Cornelia. I’ve been waiting till you came, to decide on heaps of things. You’ve got such lovely taste. Silas wants to give me some furs, and I’ve seen an emerald necklace that I’m bound to have if I’m to know another happy moment. I’ve been in twice to see it, and I guess the man’s beginning to weaken. It would pay him to let me have it at a reduction, rather than keep it lying idle. You shall come with me, and say what you think it’s worth; but mind, I’m to have the first chance! You mustn’t try to snap it up. A few hundred dollars don’t matter to you one way or the other, but I’ve got to worry round to make the money go as far as it will. It’s not that Silas wants to stint me; he’s not that sort, but he hasn’t the balance behind him your father has!” Silas smiled in sickly acknowledgment of his wife’s consideration, fidgeted in his seat, and finally took himself downstairs, to see about securing theatre tickets, whereupon his wife heaved a sigh of relief, and helped herself to a fresh cup of tea. “Thank goodness! I ken’t stand men in the daytime. They don’t take any interest in clothes or parcels, or trying-on, but kinder hang round, looking bored and superior! It gets on my nerves. ... That was a real smart-looking man you had with you to-day, dear. Guest? did you say—Captain Guest? English, isn’t he? Acts as though he’d got the patent, and everybody else was imitation. I rather like it myself, I don’t think anything of a man who takes a back seat.” The short, impatient little sigh was evidently dedicated to the memory of the absent Silas. ... “Where did you pick him up, dear? He seems very devoted. Anything coming on between you?” Cornelia’s “No!” made the listener start in her seat, so loud was it, so stern, so eloquent of displeasure. She herself was astonished at the white heat of anger which possessed her as she listened to Mrs Moffatt’s questionings. “Picked him up,” indeed! What insolence; what vulgarity! What an indignity to speak of him in such words. Her indignation seemed almost as much on Guest’s account as her own. A vision of his face rose before her, she seemed to see the curl of the lip, the droop of the eyelid with which he would have greeted such an expression. “No! Suttenly not! He is the merest acquaintance. There is not even an ordinary friendship between us. I may very probably never meet him again.” “Is that so?” queried Mrs Moffatt, calmly. As the Captain had himself announced his intention of calling at the hotel, the only effect of Cornelia’s violence was to deepen the impression that there was “something in it,” but she was too diplomatic to pursue the subject. Instead, she prattled on about a dozen inconsequent topics, and finally suggested a drive in the Park before dinner. “It will freshen you up after your journey, and there’s nothing else to do for the next two hours. Just ring, will you, dear, and make arrangements, while I write a few notes in my room. A victoria, or a motor, whichever you prefer, and in about half-an-hour. That will give us time to prink.” She rustled out of the room, and Cornelia rang and gave the order, only too thankful to avoid a prolonged tête-à-tête indoors. Once again she wondered how it had come to pass that she had become on intimate terms with this woman, who now jarred upon her at every turn. On board the steamer her own friends had scarcely left their state-rooms during the voyage, and Mrs Moffatt, in a neat tweed costume, and an enveloping blue veil, had played the part of ministering angel with much devotion, during three dreary days, when she herself had lain on a chair in a sheltered corner of the deck; had read aloud, repeated amusing little anecdotes about the passengers, taken her for constitutionals up and down, and even helped her to bed at night. When Liverpool was reached, it seemed as if they had known one another for years. They had kissed at parting, and mutually agreed to meet, and have a good time. “Shucks!” cried Cornelia, mentally. “It’s that old Norton! I’ve gotten so used to dowds, that the sight of a Paris gown scares me all into fits. I’ve looked forward to coming to London all my life, and now I’m here, I’m going to enjoy myself all I know. Now then, for the Park! I guess that grey crêpe, and the hat with the white feathers, will be about the best I can do for the honour of the flag. You’ve got to strike a balance, my dear, and plump for neutral colours as long as you run in harness with Mrs Silas P Moffatt!” That first drive in Hyde Park was a pleasant experience, though the trees looked grey and dusty, after the fresh green of the country. Cornelia, like most of her sisters, had, as a first object, to see the people, not the Park itself, and certainly they were worth the seeing. There is no place in the world where finer specimens of humanity can be seen than in Hyde Park on the afternoon of a bright June day. Cornelia admired the tall, immaculately-groomed men, the dainty, high-bred looking women, with their air of indolent grace. They did not look as if they were enjoying themselves particularly, but she enjoyed, looking at them, and honestly acknowledged the presence of a certain quality unowned by herself. “They’ve got a far-off look, as if they couldn’t see anything nearer than a hundred miles, and were scared to laugh, in case they might break! ... I guess it’s what they call ‘breed!’ Captain Guest’s got it, too. We’ve not much use for that kind of thing at home, but it—counts! If you’d been used to it all your life, it would be a jar to step down...” Mrs Moffatt knew a great many people by sight, and pointed them out as they drove by. Lady this, the Countess of that, Mrs Blank, who wrote society novels, and was noted for her taste in dress, the beautiful Miss Dash.—“Not that I can see much beauty in her myself. She’s not a patch on you, when you’re in form!” Cornelia felt a girl’s natural pleasure in the compliment, in the truth of which she complacently agreed. She did not envy Miss Dash her looks, but she did emphatically envy her her friends, particularly her male friends, who clustered around her carriage, eager for a word. One felt decidedly out of it, driving through a crowd of strangers, not one of whom turned a welcoming smile in your direction, nor cared whether you came or went. At home, Cornelia was accustomed to be in the midst of all that was going on, a central figure, round which all the rest revolved. She did not at all appreciate being relegated to the position of regarding the fray from the vantage of a hired vehicle! Cornelia craned her head to right and to left, scanning the passing crowd for a familiar face. It seemed impossible that among hundreds of people there should not be someone whom she recognised, and her faith was justified, for just at the bend near the Marble Arch, she had a passing glimpse of Guest’s tall figure, standing talking to two ladies, one middle-aged, the other young, and graceful, and smiling. They were quietly, even simply, attired, but their whole air and carriage breathed that indefinable something which she had just struggled to define: something diametrically different from the ostentatious display of the woman by her side. Theoretically, Cornelia was thankful to escape observation; in reality she felt an absurd pang of loneliness and disappointment, as the carriage bore her out of sight. The evening was spent at a theatre, and by eleven o’clock next morning both ladies had started forth on one of the shopping expeditions, which seemed to constitute Mrs Moffatt’s chief pleasure in life. They drove first of all to the jeweller’s, where Cornelia was shown the emerald necklace, a wonderful collection of stones, in an antique setting, with which she herself promptly fell in love. The price was excessive, even for her own deep purse, and she concluded that Mr Moffatt’s means must be even larger than she had imagined, since his wife seriously contemplated such a purchase. There was a good deal of bargaining, half-serious, half-joking, between Mrs Moffatt and the very imposing-looking personage behind the counter, but fortified by the advent of another possible purchaser, the latter steadily refused to reduce his price, and once again Mrs Moffatt retired discomfited from the struggle. “I know just how it will be,” she cried, “I’ll have to give it up, and then you’ll step in, and carry it off before my eyes! But you’ve got to wait a bit, till I see what I can do with Silas. I’m not going to give up yet awhile.” Cornelia laughed easily. “Oh, I’ll play fair. If you give up the idea, I daresay Poppar’d let me have it. He says emeralds suit me better than any other stones; but I shan’t break my heart, one way or the other.” ... Then addressing the shopman: “Have you got anything really new and tasty for little presents? I might as well look round while I’m here.” Then followed a delightful hour, from the shopkeeper’s point of view, at least, when Cornelia examined the contents of tray after tray, and selected “little presents” to the value of a cool hundred pounds: an old pearl and enamel solitaire stud for her father; a hat-pin composed of a big turquoise, and a selection of dainty, jewelled brooches and bangles for special girl friends. “I’ll give you the addresses, and you’d better mail them from here. I don’t know how you fix up things to travel safely from this side, but you can do all that’s necessary. I’ll give you a cheque and you needn’t send them out till you see that it’s all right. I’m a stranger to you, and can’t expect you to trust me right away, but you’ll find the money’s there!” “Well, I should think your name’s good enough! No one need fear trusting your father’s daughter for a few hundred dollars!” Mrs Moffatt protested, while the shopman waxed eloquent in protestation. Cornelia continued to write addresses on the various boxes, without troubling to answer, for the assiduous manner in which her friend advertised her parentage was already beginning to jar. First to the hotel officials; then to casual acquaintances during the evening, and now to this tradesman! It was a disagreeable change from Norton, where the subject of money was never mentioned, and no one seemed to care whether you were rich or poor. The whole morning was devoted to shopping; in the afternoon the two ladies went out driving, and returned to the hotel, to find Captain Guest’s card on the sitting-room table. “He has lost no time, anyhow!” said Mrs Moffatt, meaningly. “He has done the polite thing. Now he need not trouble any more,” Cornelia replied. On the whole, she was not sorry to have missed the call. Conversation, with Mrs Moffatt as audience, would have been somewhat of a strain! <hr></div> <div class="bodytext"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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