Читать книгу The Magnetic Girl - Richard Marsh - Страница 4

Table of Contents

He never looked round once; though I stood where he had left me, looking after him till he was lost among the crowd. What people thought of me I cannot say. And I didn’t care. They must have supposed that I was a sort of Lot’s wife, turned into a pillar, or something. But, at that moment, what other people thought of me did not matter in the least. What I thought of myself was a nightmare. I marched off home, feeling as if I would have liked to have pinched everyone I met. I passed Lena Portch, who was still with Mr Champneys,—a most objectionable person, who will wear shepherd’s-plaid trousers, which I abominate. Lena was to blame for everything. She stood at the gate as I was coming out of the Gardens. Directly afterwards I saw that she was crossing the road. I am sure, if a motor car, which almost made an end of me, had knocked her down, and run right over her, I would not have turned a hair. If Mr Champneys does marry her I hope he’ll beat her. I have a moral conviction that he is just that kind of creature. What can a man be like who lives in shepherd’s-plaid trousers?

When I reached home I was hot, and dishevelled, and all anyhow. I knew I should get it directly I set foot inside the door,—that is, unless I could manage to slip upstairs before anyone caught sight of me. And I got it—mamma opened the door for me herself. We had had a difficulty with our servants. It is my belief that when five women live alone in a house together they always are having difficulties with their servants. I know we were. The cook and the parlour-maid had left at a moment’s notice—or, rather, without a moment’s notice. Lilian and Audrey had complained about the state their things were in, as if they had been worn. Inquiries had been made, and there was quite a scene: I should not be surprised if the cook had worn some of Lilian’s frocks—they had just about the same figure. Anyhow, only the housemaid remained, and she was in two minds. And as, as yet, we had been able to get no one in to help her, we were at her mercy.

“Why, mamma,” I exclaimed, when I saw that it was she who had opened the door, “where is Jane?”

“It’s Jane’s afternoon out; and, of course, I should not dream of asking her to inconvenience herself to oblige me. It’s the mistresses who are the servants nowadays. What a state you’re in.”

She spoke in her most acid tones. Mamma is not very tall, and rather dumpy, and though she always dresses in black silk she never appears imposing, though she tries her best to think she does.

“Why, what’s the matter with me? I’ve been walking fast, and am rather hot,—that’s all.”

“All! Haven’t I forbidden you to walk fast? Are you not aware that nothing accentuates the unfortunate vulgarity of your appearance so much as heat? Your hat is on one side, your hair is out of curl, your necktie is under your chin. You look positively blowsy. I am ashamed to see such a figure entering my house. And where are the things?”

“Things?” I suddenly remembered that I had forgotten all about them. I had intended to get them as I returned from my stroll in Kensington Gardens; but what had taken place there had driven them right out of my head. “I meant to get them as I came back, but—I didn’t.”

“Meant to get them as you came back! What do you mean? Did I not send you out for them, and for them only?”

“Surely, Norah, you have not come back without my stockings? You know perfectly well that I can’t wear those shoes without them; nothing I have will do at all.—And where’s my matching?”

Lilian had appeared out of the dining-room. She had bought a new pair of brown shoes, which she wanted to wear that evening, and it seemed that nothing she had in the way of hose was of quite the proper shade. She had given me a scrap of material which was the shade. It seemed that I had not only forgotten her stockings, but lost the matching. She let me have it when she became aware of the fact. Lilian is tall; and—sometimes—stately; and is considered smart; but she can be disagreeable, and most abusive. In fact, they can all of them be that.

“Really, Norah, you are the most stupid person I ever met. Some people might suppose that you could not be so stupid as you look; but, I will do you the justice to admit that you appear to try your very best to be.”

That was a pleasant thing to say! While I was searching about for something nice and stinging to reply, Doris came out of the morning-room on to the top of the stairs, and she began:

“I suppose, Norah, that you have brought my fringe-nets, because I simply can’t do my hair until I have them. I’ve just torn my very last.”

Then she supposed wrong, because I had not; and so I told her. The bathroom door was opened, and Audrey’s voice was heard. I never knew anyone for baths like Audrey. She likes to have three or four a day, with the water about up to boiling-point, and oatmeal in it; and there she lies and stews. What good she thinks it does her is beyond me. I am sure it doesn’t make her skin any whiter. It couldn’t. It’s perfectly white and as smooth as satin already. I only wish mine was like it.

“Is that Norah? Has she brought that ribbon for my bodice? Because if she has, I’ll put it in at once.”

There was no ribbon to be got out of me, neither for her bodice, nor for anything else, as Eveleen, who had followed Lilian out of the dining-room, proceeded to explain.

“Oh dear no! she’s brought nothing, except herself;—and a pretty self she looks. Upon my word, Norah, I wonder that you can’t manage to keep yourself a trifle tidy—say about as tidy as the average charwoman. Especially as you can’t afford to look as if you had got your clothes on inside out. Some girls can; but, I assure you, you’re not one of them.

Eveleen is one of your dainty bandbox sort of girls. She never wears a pin. All her clothes seem to be part of her. You might live with her for years and never know that she even used hairpins. How she prevents their ever peeping out is beyond my understanding. And as for nets, they are put on so knowingly, and match her hair so exactly, that you would never guess that anything of that kind could have anything to do with the exquisite neatness of her hair.

“We can’t all appear like barbers’ blocks, and look as if our hair were sent home, ready dressed, with the fish every day.”

That was what I observed. We adjourned to the dining-room, and the discussion began. How many of them we have had of which I have been the subject! No one ever seems to grow tired of them—except me.

“Norah,” mamma began, “I must ask you not to be rude. Your natural vulgarity, I suppose, you cannot help; but I will have you keep a guard upon your tongue when you are speaking to your sisters. I cannot understand why Providence ever afflicted me with such a child.”

“I thought, mamma, that that was a problem which you had given up some time ago.”

“Unfortunately, the affliction continues. My other daughters do me credit”—they were all of them beauties;—that was what made it so maddening for me. “I myself am not ill-looking.” (Mamma had been very pretty; and still looked nice, especially at night. Only I wish she would not wear a transformation—which seems to me to be just the same thing as a wig. Considering that Lilian is twenty-nine, and everybody knows it, it is so obvious.) “I therefore cannot understand how it is that I should have a child who is not only unprepossessing, but who cannot be induced to pay any attention to even the most elementary rules of toilet which every gentlewoman observes. A servant would be ashamed to appear in public in the condition in which you at present are.”

Eveleen struck in:

“I should think so! No decent servant looks as if she had covered herself with the contents of the rag-bag. Are you aware, Norah, that your belt has worked up behind, and that the hooks on your skirt are showing?”

“And your shoe-lace is untied; and, unless I am mistaken, your stocking is concertinaed about your ankle;—but she doesn’t mind.”

This was Lilian. Mamma followed:

“But I mind. In spite of every obstacle I have treated you exactly as I have done your sisters. But the problem becomes more serious every day. How do you suppose that I am ever going to get you properly settled in life if you persist in making of yourself a scarecrow?—an absolute figure of fun?—I am compelled to use such language.”

“Oh, you needn’t trouble about a trifle of that sort. She’s settled all that for herself. She has her eye on Crooked Ben;—which is only as it should be, because, then, they’ll be a pair of figures of fun.”

This, again, was Lilian. The things she allows herself to say when she is in the mood, if they heard them, would startle some of the people who call her stately. She may consider herself ultra-refined, and I do not deny that she looks it, but I am persuaded that at heart she is almost as vulgar as I am. When she said that, it made me mad. I flew at her like a wild-cat. I was just in the mood for it.

“You talk, with a sneer, of Crooked Ben! You may have had bushels of proposals”—she has had heaps and heaps,—“but there wasn’t one among the lot worthy to black his boots. As for Mr Rumford, that bald-headed, bloated object, with quack written large all over him, you may like to have him muddling about you, but I wouldn’t touch him with a pair of tongs.”

Lilian went white. The truth is, she was nearly twenty-nine, and I suppose thought it about time to have someone for a husband, and as Mr Rumford was showing a strong inclination to apply for the position, I rather fancy she was considering whether he would not do. He had made piles of money out of a patent medicine called “Aunt Jane’s Jalap,” and was really not such a bad sort in his way: though just then I was anything but disposed to let her know I thought so. Eveleen took up the cudgels for Lilian;—they always stand up for each other against me.

“What a delicate way you have of putting a thing, Norah. You and your language are so in keeping. If you could only induce someone to transfer you from the family of which you so entirely disapprove how much happier you would be—and we also. Couldn’t you put the screw on Mr Morgan? He seems to be the only chance you are ever likely to have. Do make the most of him. Let mamma ask him what he means.”

“Look here, Eveleen! You think yourself vastly superior to me——”

“Not at all. Not while your complexion is quite so brilliant—I couldn’t.”

“Oh yes, you do. But you’re wrong for all that. You’ve spent your whole life in chasing men——”

“I rather fancied that some of them had chased me. But I daresay it’s the same thing to you.”

“Is there anything to be proud of in that? You’ve devoted your whole life to men, anyhow, and I don’t think that’s very womanly.”

“I think it probable that you wouldn’t—for reasons.—My dear Norah, do use your handkerchief. There’s a drop of perspiration trickling down your nose. Or is it a tear? It doesn’t seem to combine with freckles.”

Doris struck in.

“When you people have quite finished, might I ask if I am ever going to have any fringe-nets? I can’t remain the whole day with my hair in curlers.”

She had it in curlers then, and very queer she looked. No one would have known her for the radiant Doris of her admirers. Nothing takes the gilt off a girl’s appearance so much as curlers. Unless mamma makes me I never use them. Thank goodness, my hair has got a curl of its own, if it is not quite in the style of the barbers’ fashion-plates. Mamma—who never thinks of being down on them for anything which they may say to me—was quick at seconding Doris’ suggestion.

“Norah, be so good as to let me hear no more from you. Both your language and your appearance smack of the servants’ hall. You will fetch the things I requested you to bring before. Then I will ask you for an explanation of how it is that you have failed to bring them now. Go up to your room, and make yourself look as decent as you conveniently can, and be quick about it;—and not another word!”

Lilian stood up.

“I suppose I had better find you another matching. You are sure to bring something impossible if I don’t.”

Eveleen put in her word.

“I should say that she’s sure to bring something impossible in any case. I would rather be excused from trusting her to get anything of the least importance for me. I admire your courage.”

“She had better not make any mess about those nets of mine,” cried Doris; “or things will become exhilarating. Norah, if you tell them at Morrel’s that they’re for me there will be no mess. I suppose you have some sense.”

“Doris, what an inexhaustible fund of confidence you have in Norah. It may be sisterly; but is it wise?”

Just as I was going to snap off Eveleen’s nose, of course mamma must interfere:

“Now, Norah, not another word. Do as I tell you. Go upstairs, and endeavour to make yourself look more like a daughter of mine should do, and then go and fetch those things—and mind there are no mistakes.”

I went upstairs. As I went I heard Eveleen laugh. I knew she was laughing at me. She may have a musical laugh—I have been told hundreds of times she has, so I suppose she must have—but it did not sound musical to me just then. It put all my nerves on edge.