Читать книгу Ribbons and Laces - Ruby Mildred Ayres - Страница 8

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Linda always looked back upon that dance as a distinct division between her old, sheltered life, and the new one upon which she had chosen to embark.

It was all novelty and excitement from the moment when Nelly Sweet called at the house for her, breathless and very smart in her new frock, and with a too much powdered face, till the moment, long past midnight, when she was escorted home again by the Black Prince himself.

“Take care of yourself, promise me you will take care of yourself,” were Mrs. Lovelace’s last imploring words, and Linda laughed as she kissed her. “What do you think is likely to happen to me?” she asked with affectionate scorn.

She wrapped her cloak warmly around her and ran downstairs to the open door where Nelly waited.

There was a taxicab chugging at the kerbstone outside, and a man standing beside it in evening dress.

Nelly explained and introduced him rather incoherently.

“This is Bill Sargent!—my friend, Miss Lovelace. He’s in a bank—oh, I told you—and he would have a taxi. I was late you see. I generally am, aren’t I, Bill? So as there wasn’t any time to lose we had a taxi.” She gave Linda a little push forward. “Get in!” she ordered; “we shall be late, and I want to get there before Joan does.”

Linda obeyed. She felt rather bewildered, but a moment later they were driving away, with Nelly chattering all the time, and the big young man on the opposite seat rather silent.

“Linda hasn’t been to one of these shows before,” Nelly informed him. “I may call you Linda, mayn’t I? And you can call me Nelly—it’s more easy. You’ll like Bill when you know him better,” she went on, addressing first Linda and then Bill Sargent with quaint familiarity. “He’s rather quiet, but he can dance all right—can’t you, Bill?”

Bill shifted his feet uneasily; he looked a little cramped on one of the small seats back to the driver.

“Not so bad,” he said modestly. “Do you go to many dances, Miss Lovelace?”

“I haven’t been to a grown-up dance at all,” Linda admitted reluctantly. “I used to go to parties and things like that when I was small, but lately—well, things have been different.”

“Her father died, and they lost their money, you see,” Nelly explained. She was rather proud of Linda and her grandmother; she wished regretfully that it was not compulsory for their big house to be given up; she had been childishly pleased to introduce Bill to it that evening.

Bill made no comment on this gratuitous piece of information, and they arrived at the hall almost at once.

There was a strip of red carpet down, and an awning overhead.

“It’s not for us, though,” Nelly explained, modestly. “There was a private dance here last night, and I suppose they’ve left it up.”

Linda said “Oh!” She could not always follow Nelly Sweet’s rapid transition of thought; she took Bill Sargent’s hand when he offered to help her from the taxi, and followed Nelly through the open doorway.

In the cloakroom dozens of girls were already assembled, and the noise of their chatter and laughter was like the humming in a beehive. Nelly introduced her to half-a-dozen of her friends in a single breath.

“They’ve all brought partners,” she informed Linda, in a whisper, “and Bill says he’s got someone for you.”

Linda felt a little uncomfortable, and for a moment she wished she had not come as she listened to the light-hearted, irresponsible chatter around.

“Look at Elsie’s dress! Isn’t it a sight? Dyed, I’ll bet! It’s the same one she had last year, only it was blue then! I don’t mind her dyeing it, only she does swank so! Thinks she’s too good for anyone else.”

“Who’s she brought with her?—No! has he really? Well, it serves her right; she always thought he’d ask her to marry him.”

Linda caught vague snatches of conversation as she took off her cloak and brushed her hair, meeting the reflection of her pale face in the mirror with rather scared eyes.

What sort of an evening was this going to be? And would she be sorry she had come?

Nelly gripped her arm.

“Come along, the band’s started.”

They went out and upstairs together; to Linda’s confused eyes the room seemed very much overcrowded, and everyone seemed to be staring at her.

Bill Sargent came up to her with a boyish-looking youth following him.

“May I introduce my friend Archie Lang—Miss Lovelace.”

Archie Lang bowed, and smiled, showing a dimple and a faultless set of teeth; his very blue eyes seemed to take Linda in from head to foot, with friendly approval before he crooked an arm towards her.

“Shall we dance?”

Bill Sargent had moved away with Nelly, and Linda stammered out:

“What sort of a dance is it? I don’t know the new ones! Oh, I am sorry, but it’s the first dance like this I’ve ever been to.”

Archie Lang did not look at all perturbed, probably he had been warned what to expect beforehand.

“I’ll soon show you how,” he promised. “Just do as I tell you, and don’t be nervous.”

Linda obeyed as best she could.

“Not so difficult—eh?” he asked when they had gone the round of the room three times. “You’re picking it up splendidly. Not tired, are you?”

“No, I like it awfully.”

“Good—we’ll go on then.”

They did not stop till the band stopped, then Archie mopped his warm face and looked at Linda smilingly.

“You’re going to make a dancer, I can see that,” he told her.

“Where shall we sit? It’s warm, isn’t it?” he broke off, staring across the room with round eyes. “My hat! look at our one and only Joan.”

Linda followed the direction of his gaze, and saw that Joan Astley had just entered the room with the tall figure of the Black Prince beside her.

Joan was dressed in a closely-fitting frock made in a very expensive-looking brocade of brilliant colouring, and her queer honey-coloured hair was coiled tightly round her head in a smooth plait.

Archie grinned.

“Looks like an Egyptian,” he said.

“I think she looks lovely; it’s the best frock in the room,” Linda declared.

She was right; beside the expensive originality and severity of Joan Astley’s cut, every other frock seemed to pale into insignificance.

“Well, she’s supposed to know how to dress,” Archie said reluctantly; he had once had rather a serious, if callow, affection for Joan himself, and had not yet quite got over it in spite of the severe snubbing he had received.

Linda was looking at her interestedly; she had not liked Joan when she met her at Nelly Sweet’s rooms, but she honestly admired her appearance.

“That’s the Black Prince with her,” Archie volunteered. “I suppose she has hopes! She always says she’ll marry a title or die an old maid. Should think she’d die an old maid myself, but one never knows!” he added in a mincing tone of mimicry.

Linda looked puzzled.

“But if the Black Prince, as you call him, is really a titled man, why does he come here?” she asked. “There must be heaps of far better places he can go to.”

Archie chuckled.

“These are the sort of places he prefers, I suppose,” he answered. “He can do more as he likes. He’s quite a sport, too, in spite of all the stories people tell about him. I know him well; he banks at our show—when he’s got anything to bank,” he added, facetiously. “And there’s no side about him; he’ll shake hands with any of us, no matter where we meet him.” He hesitated, looking down at Linda. “Like to be introduced?” he asked, with unintentional patronage.

Linda flushed sensitively; at that moment she had met the gaze of the Black Prince across the room, and the same little thrill, half of fear, half of excitement, which his eyes had given her before, went through her heart.

She was conscious of a feeling of fatality, almost of dread.

“If you’d like to know him——” Archie said again.

Linda shook her head.

“No thank you, I should not like to at all,” she said decidedly.

Archie Lang looked surprised.

“Most girls go potty over him,” he said blankly. “You are funny!”

“Am I?” Linda laughed. “Perhaps I like my friends to myself instead of sharing them with everyone.”

“You’re like me, then,” he said. He moved his chair a little closer to hers. “I think we shall get on well.”

“I think we’d better dance again,” Linda told him in her most matter-of-fact voice. “Unless you’re tired of teaching me how not to tread on your feet.”

He declared that nothing could give him greater happiness, and the time seemed to fly until Nelly Sweet came across the room to inform them that they were going to get something to eat.

“Bill’s got a table, so you can share it with us,” she told Linda. “Well, how do you like Archie?” she asked, lowering her voice. “Isn’t he a dear?”

“He’s rather nice,” Linda admitted. “But he’s only a boy.”

Nelly raised her brows.

“Only a boy! My word, he wouldn’t like it if he heard you say that,” she protested. “He thinks he’s absolutely it! he’s in the same bank as Bill, you know.”

“So he told me.”

“They’re great friends, and they dig together,” Nelly went on. Apparently she had a passion for explaining everything and everybody. “Bill’s people live up in the North, and he doesn’t like them, so he doesn’t often go home, and Archie hasn’t got anybody except an old aunt, who he thinks will leave him all her money. He really comes of well-to-do people,” she added impressively.

Linda said, “Oh, does he!” She was getting rather tired of listening to everyone’s family history; she would much have preferred to find things out for herself.

They pushed their way down the crowded staircase to the refreshment room.

Bill Sargent, standing on a chair, waved frantically to them.

“Here I am! Come along.”

He had tipped up four chairs round a marble-topped table, and had secured a plate of sandwiches and some pale-looking claret-cup.

“Bill always manages to get things,” Nelly told Linda with a touch of pride. “He’s such a man of the world, you know.”

“Is he?” Linda asked, and looked at the placid Bill rather sceptically.

But she was hungry and enjoyed the sandwiches, which were followed by macaroons and an ice-cream which was beginning to feel the heat.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Nelly asked Linda.

She had a great air of showing Linda how one did things in London; presently she produced a cigarette-case and offered it.

“You don’t smoke!” she ejaculated in horror when Linda refused. “Goodness, that’s another thing we must teach her, Archie.”

“I don’t think I should like it,” Linda protested, flushing.

She did not like to appear different from everyone else, but she was sure smoking would make her head-ache; to change the subject she admired Nelly’s cigarette-case.

“What a very pretty one!”

“Yes,” Nelly smiled. “Bill gave it to me.” She shot an arch look at Bill, who fidgeted uncomfortably.

“Are you engaged to Mr. Sargent?” Linda asked in an undertone when they rose from the table.

Nelly chuckled.

“Not yet! But . . . well . . . I think he’ll ask me,” she said in a confident little whisper. “He’s got quite a good position in the bank—he’s on the counter.”

Linda was not sure what that meant.

“Is Mr. Lang on the counter, too?” she asked.

Nelly shook her head.

“No, he’s a ledger clerk.” Then she laughed. “Why don’t you call them by their Christian names?” she demanded. “We all do; it’s so much more friendly.”

Linda flushed in embarrassment. “But I never met them before this evening!” she protested.

Nelly laughed in derision.

“Goodness! One evening is long enough for some people to get engaged and married in,” she said. She turned to the two men who were following them together. “I tell Linda she ought to call you boys by your Christian names,” she said airily. “And you call her by her’s.”

Linda interrupted. “Thank you! but I should not like that. I only allow people I know very well to use my Christian name.” Then, conscious of Nelly’s blank stare of amazement, and the two men’s uncomfortable look, she apologised quickly.

“I don’t mean to be unfriendly, but . . . I’m not quite used to the way you all do things.”

Nelly’s pretty face sharpened angrily.

“If you think you’re too good for us——” she began.

Big Bill Sargent struck in bluntly.

“Don’t be silly, Nelly, Miss Lovelace is quite right. I should not think of calling her by her Christian name.”

Nelly made a grimace at him.

“Hoighty-toighty!” she scoffed. “You’re getting up on a pedestal, too, are you?”

He answered rather sharply that he was not doing anything of the sort, and if she liked to be disagreeable she could. And that, anyway, he was going to have a dance with Miss Lovelace.

The hot blood surged into Nelly’s pale cheeks, and for an instant her eyes narrowed, until she looked almost plain, but almost at once she was laughing again.

“Pooh! Do you think I care!” she scoffed. “Dance with her and welcome. Archie and I can easily amuse one another. Come on, Archie.” She caught his arm, dragging him away, and Linda looked at Bill with vexation.

“Now she’s angry with us,” she said. “Oh, I am sorry. I would not hurt her feelings for the world.”

“You haven’t,” Bill said bluntly. “She’s too fond of trying to have everything her own way. Well—may I have this dance?”

She agreed reluctantly.

“I can’t dance at all well,” she told him. “But if you like to risk it. . . .”

“I shall be delighted,” he answered, and slipped his arm round her slim waist.

He was a far better dancer than Archie Lang, and after the first little embarrassment, Linda gave herself up whole-heartedly to the enjoyment of the moment.

“That was topping!” Bill said when they stopped. “You only want a little practise, and you’ll dance like a fairy.”

Linda smiled, well pleased, though she shook her head.

“I’m afraid I shan’t have much opportunity to practise,” she told him regretfully. “You see——” He interrupted quickly.

“I shall be delighted to bring you here again, or take you to any other dances, if I may.”

The colour rose in Linda’s face.

“It’s very kind of you, but. . . .”

“It’s not kind at all—except to myself,” he interrupted coolly. “You have only to let me know any night you are free, and . . .”

Linda broke in——

“But Nelly! what would Nelly say?”

He looked surprised.

“It’s nothing to do with her,” he answered blankly.

“Nothing to . . . oh!” Linda realised that she had said the wrong thing, and tried hurriedly to cover the mistake.

“Shall we go downstairs again and see what the others are doing?” she suggested; she led the way without waiting for him to answer.

The stairs were still fairly crowded, and there was a little knot of people gathered below in the doorway of the refreshment room.

Bill tried to shoulder a way for her.

“Thank you . . . please let this lady pass.”

A tall man, who was the centre of the group, turned hurriedly at the request; he was holding a jug of claret-cup in his hand, and as Linda passed him, someone must have jogged his arm, for without the slightest warning the jug tipped, spilling its contents down the front of Linda’s frock.

“Oh, I say, I’m most frightfully sorry! Oh, by Jove, what can we do!”

Linda, for a moment, hardly realised what had occurred, raised her eyes at the sound of the distressed voice, and for the third time met the gaze of the Black Prince bent upon her.

Then she looked down at her frock, and saw what had happened.

She gave a little cry of dismay.

“Oh!” She had been so proud of her first evening frock, and now it was quite spoilt.

The Black Prince produced a soft silk handkerchief from his pocket and tried clumsily to wipe out the stains.

“I wouldn’t have had it happen for the world. I can’t think how I was so clumsy. I say, do forgive me! Can’t we get some water or something and wash it out? I say, you fellows, what’s a good thing to get claret stains out with?”

Bill had pushed his way forward now; he frowned as he saw the havoc on Linda’s pretty frock.

Joan Astley, lounging picturesquely in a wicker chair close by, laughed in soft amusement.

“I’m afraid nothing will get them out. You’ll have to have a fresh width put in, Miss Lovelace.”

She was smoking a cigarette in a wicked-looking yellow holder, and she puffed a little cloud of smoke into the air as she spoke.

Linda answered in distress:

“But I shall never be able to match it! It’s a very old length of brocade my grandmother gave me——” Tears welled into her eyes, and the Black Prince broke out energetically.

“It’s only right that I should pay for my clumsiness; frocks are deuced expensive things, I know, and so . . .”

Linda froze him with an indignant stare, and he relapsed into embarrassed silence.

“The woman in the cloak-room might know of something,” Bill said. “I should run along and ask her.”

Linda escaped gladly; she was angry with herself for being so upset, and more angry with the Black Prince for his carelessness.

And how dared he offer to buy her a new frock! Her cheeks burned at the thought; and yet, she was sure he had not meant to insult her, and his handsome eyes had been genuinely distressed.

The woman in the cloak-room had small consolation to offer.

She had known frocks where claret stains had dried and never shown, but she had known others, so she declared, where the stain showed so badly they could never be worn again. She shook her head over Linda’s beautiful brocade, as she sponged daintily at the stains. “I’m afraid it’s done for,” she prophesied dolefully. “However did you come to do it?”

“I didn’t do it; it was a clumsy man,” Linda told her angrily.

The woman’s eyes opened wide.

“Make him pay for it!” she advised energetically. “This frock cost a mint of money, I know, or else I’m not a judge.”

They dried the frock in front of the fire, and together anxiously examined the result.

The elder woman shook her head.

“Well, it will always show!” she admitted.

Linda went back to the ballroom with slow steps and at the door encountered Nelly Sweet, who pounced upon her sympathetically.

“Oh, you poor thing! What a shame! I’ve just heard! Here, let me look!” She scrutinised the stains critically. “Bill’s furious about it,” she said. Her eyes swept Linda’s flushed face. “Here, don’t you go taking Bill away from me,” she threatened, half in fun, half in earnest. “He’s never danced with anyone else before when I’ve been around, so you’re mighty favoured.”

Linda felt angry.

“I didn’t want to dance with him,” she protested indignantly. “And I certainly don’t want him!” she added with energy.

“Thank you very much,” said Bill’s voice drily from behind her, and she turned with a guilty start.

“I didn’t know you were there,” she admitted. “But it would not have made any difference if I had,” she added, angered by the expression of his eyes.

He smiled good-naturedly.

Nelly broke in rather agitatedly.

“Did you hear what I said about you Bill?”

He did not reply; he spoke to Linda again.

“Mr. Lincoln wishes to be introduced, Miss Lovelace——”

“Mr. Lincoln!” Linda echoed.

Nelly grasped her elbow.

“The Black Prince,” she prompted in a whisper. “Go on and be introduced, dear! You’ll like him!”

And the next moment the Black Prince was bowing before Linda.

“I don’t know how to apologise for my extreme clumsiness,” he said earnestly. “I’m afraid I’ve quite spoilt your charming frock.”

“I’m afraid you have,” Linda admitted with a sigh. “But, of course, it was an accident, and accidents will happen.”

Before she could realise it, he had drawn her a little apart from the others.

“We’ll sit out for this dance, shall we?” he asked. “The room is rather warm, and I feel that it will take me some time to apologise for my sins and receive absolution.”

“I would much rather not say any more about it,” Linda told him. “It’s done, and that’s all there is to say. Let’s forget it.”

He turned his handsome eyes upon her.

“And we are friends?” he asked.

“If you wish.”

He held out his hand.

“Then that’s a bargain?”

Linda laid her hand in his.

“I begin to think that my ideas of friendship are all wrong,” she told him in a puzzled way. “I thought friendship was a thing that took years to make, but apparently nowadays it can be done in a few minutes.”

“It can be done in less time than that,” he answered promptly. “For instance, the first time I ever saw you I knew that you and I were going to be friends.”

She laughed. “Oh, what nonsense!”

“That’s unkind! Besides, it isn’t nonsense. I saw you yesterday in Lorne and Dodwell’s—do you remember? Yes, I see you do,” he added, as she flushed. “I’m a great believer in first impressions, Miss Lovelace, and my first impression of you was. . . .” He stopped. “No, on second considerations, I will keep it to tell to you another time.”

Linda looked up.

“Oh, tell me now!” she urged.

He shook his head.

“You might not like it.”

“Is it so terrible, then?”

“On the contrary——”

She made a little grimace. “How unkind to rouse my curiosity and not satisfy it!”

Archie Lang crossed the room. “This is my dance, I think, Miss Lovelace.”

The Black Prince looked up coolly.

“Your thoughts are wrong, then, Lang. Miss Lovelace is engaged to me for this.”

He looked at Linda. “That is right, isn’t it, Miss Lovelace?”

Linda tried hard to say no. She knew that Archie had the prior claim, and yet . . . she looked up at him, smiling tremulously.

“I am so sorry, Mr. Lang, but I have already promised Mr. Lincoln.”

“There you are, my boy!” the Black Prince said casually: but there was a gleam of triumph in his eyes.