“Nothing. I just wondered who she was.”
“Lesbia?” said Freddy. “Lesbia? You’re sure it was Lesbia, and not Sylvia?”
“Quite sure.”
“Because there was Sylvia Flowerdew who married Nigel Adair. No-no, that’s wrong, because Nigel married Kitty Lennox, so it must have been Ian who married Sylvia. Only I seem to remember Ian being married to a dark girl with a bit of cast in her eye-and of course some people admired it, but I don’t myself, and Sylvia-”
“It wasn’t Sylvia-it was Lesbia.”
Freddy brightened.
“It wasn’t Lesbia Boyne?”
“I don’t know. Who was Lesbia Boyne?”
“She was Esther’s great friend about the time we married. But I think she went out to America -yes, I think so.”
“I never heard of her.”
“She used to write-yes, yes, it all comes back-she used to write. And then she stopped writing-these things drop off, you know. Now there was Janet Gordon about the same time, always writing to Esther. No, not Janet-Joan- Jean-Jane-hanged if I can remember the girl’s name! But I’ll swear it began with a J. No-Elspeth-that’s it-Elspeth Gordon! Or was it Campbell? Bless my soul. I can’t be sure. But she used to write a dozen times a week, and now I can’t even remember her name.”
Archie was saying good-night to Greta. He whispered something, and Greta blushed and dimpled. Freddy turned on them, shaking his finger.
“Don’t you believe a word he says. I don’t know what he’s saying, but don’t you believe it. Young men are all alike. Don’t forget you’re all dining with me tomorrow.”
Archie was quite unabashed.
“Am I dinin’ too?”
“Didn’t I ask you? D’you want to come? The more, the merrier-what? Half past seven, and don’t be late. Good-night, everybody. Good-night Greta.” He pressed Greta’s hand and held it for a moment. “Aren’t you going to say ‘Good-night, Freddy’?”
Greta giggled, caught Archie’s look of disfavour, and gave Freddy a beaming smile.
“Good-night, Freddy,” she said.
CHAPTER XXVIII
I’ve never been to a dinner-party before,” said Greta. “I’m frightfully excited. I was afraid we were going to be late, because Margaret was kept hours over time at her horrid shop. She had simply to whisk into her dress in about three minutes. I’d been quite ready for half an hour before she ever came in.”
Freddy Pelham beamed on his arriving guests.
“Your first dinner party? And my last in this house.”
“Your last?”
“Didn’t Margaret tell you I was going?”
It was Charles who said, “Yes, she told me, but I didn’t know you were off so soon.”
Freddy looked pathetic.
“What’s the good of my staying on? I can’t bear it, and that’s the fact.”
“You’re not selling the house?”
“No, I’m taking a leaf out of your book. I shall just lock it up and leave it standing, and then if I want to come back, I can. This is a little farewell party, just to keep me company my last night.”
Even Margaret looked surprised.
“I thought you weren’t going till the end of the month.”
“I’m moving over to my club to-morrow-letting the servants go and all that. And I may pop off any day without saying good-bye. Hateful things good-byes. I shan’t say any-I shall just pop off, and the next you know you’ll be getting picture postcards of Constantinople or Hong Kong – what? And now let’s enjoy ourselves.”
He turned to Greta.
“Your first dinner party? Now just think of that! I didn’t know I was to be so much honoured. And Margaret was late? That’s too bad! Well, I haven’t got to introduce anyone to you-have I? That’s splendid! And am I allowed to pay you a compliment on the very charming frock you have on?”
Greta giggled.
“It’s Margaret’s. I haven’t got any of my own things, you know.”
“Haven’t you? Haven’t you really? That’s too bad!”
Margaret slipped her hand inside Greta’s arm and pinched it.
“Come and look at this bit of jade. Isn’t it pretty? I used to love it when I was a little girl. Look-you can see the light through the grapes if you hold it in front of the lamp.”
Greta’s attention was diverted. As she went in to dinner on Freddy’s arm, she appeared to be occupied with the momentous question of whether green, “bright green like that funny bunch of grapes,” would really suit her. Did Freddy think it would? “Only I ought really to be in mourning for poor Papa.”
Margaret saw Charles’ eyebrows go up. He made a valiant attempt to distract Greta from what was due to “poor Papa.”
“You should always wear white. I’m all for the good old-fashioned heroine in white muslin and a blue sash. You know where you are then. If she’s got on white muslin and a blue sash, she’s the heroine, and you’re not kept all worked up wondering whether she’s the vamp in disguise.”
“Very nice,” said Freddy-“very nice indeed. I always did like to see a pretty girl in a white frock. Now your mother”-he turned to Margaret-“your mother was wonderful in white. I remember her telling me she wanted to wear a coloured dress when she had her miniature painted, and the lady who did it wouldn’t hear of it. Bless my soul, I can’t remember her name! It was Tod-no, it wasn’t Tod. And it wasn’t Mackintosh. Now that’s really very stupid of me, for your mother used to talk about her quite a lot and say what a pity it was she married that cousin of hers and went out to British Columbia with him and never touched a brush again. Nina-yes, it was Nina-No, it wasn’t McLean. Dear me, it’s very stupid of me! She painted uncommonly well, and exhibited every year at the Scottish Academy. But I can’t remember her name.”
“Wouldn’t it be on the miniature?” suggested Archie.
“Yes, yes, of course. We’ll have to look at it afterwards. Now you must all have some of this entree, because it’s uncommonly good. Margaret you’re not eating anything. My dear, I must really insist. By the way, that old desk of your mother’s-dear me now, I’ve forgotten what I was going to say about it, but there was something I was going to say. Now what was it?”
“When did Mother have it?” said Margaret.
“I don’t know. It’s an old thing-not worth your taking away, my dear.”
“Oh, but it was,” said Greta. “It was frightfully exciting when we found the little drawer.”
“A drawer?” Freddy’s voice was vague and puzzled.
“A little secret drawer just like my own had, underneath the place for the ink. And Margaret wouldn’t ever had found it for herself-would you, Margaret? And I shouldn’t have found it either, only my desk was just like this one and I dropped it carrying it down from the attic and a little bit got broken, so I could see there was a drawer there. And when I saw Margaret’s, I thought perhaps it would be the same. And it was.” Greta’s tone was triumphant.
The white frock, which Margaret had had in the spring and only worn once, was extravagantly becoming to Greta. The shaded lights touched up the gold in her hair. She leaned bare elbows on the dark polished table and talked with a child’s excitement.
“Wasn’t it funny Margaret’s desk being the same as mine? It was frightfully exciting when the little drawer came out and there was the envelope about the certificate.”
The table was a round one. Freddy Pelham had Margaret on one side of him and Greta on the other, Archie next Margaret, and Charles next Greta. As Greta said the word certificate, a manly heel came down hard upon the toe of her satin shoe. She blinked and said “Oh!” blinked again, and turned indignantly on Charles.
“You trod on me!”
Charles smiled a charming smile.
“My dear child, what do you mean? I never tread on people.”
“Then it was Archie. I think the front bit of my foot’s broken. Archie, why did you tread on me?”
Archie made an indignant denial. Freddy was full of fussy concern!