“I know that you have the art of paying compliments.”
He leaned towards me and kissed my nose. I thought: There was never happiness such as this. Why could I have thought I didn’t want to come to Lady Mellingfort’s ball?
We talked of Menfreya, and as I sat with Bevil in that alcove, I could hear the swish of the waves and see the machicolated walls and the old clock in the tower; I could see myself riding with Bevil through the woods and lanes. I felt intoxicated by happiness.
Later when we went in to supper together, to my dismay we were joined by my Aunt Clarissa and Sylvia, whom I was malicious enough to note was without an escort.
“Mr. Menfrey! How delighted I am. My daughter Sylvia.”
I felt a twinge of fear as he looked at her in that warm, caressing way he and his father looked at all women.
Sylvia said: “I’m delighted too, Mr. Menfrey. I’ve heard so much about you-“
“Then there is delight all round. Harriet could talk of nothing else but her charming cousins all the evening!”
I caught my breath, but he was smiling at me. He had summed up the situation.
Lady Mellingfort had thought it would be amusing for her guests to help themselves at the buffet supper; and Bevil suggested that he should bring our supper to the table.
“Take Sylvia along with you. She will help you. Go along. Sylvia my dear.”
I watched them go off together and I hated my aunt She was hating me too.
“Really,” she said under her breath. “People are talking!”
“You’d hardly expect otherwise. This is not a monastic order where silence is expected.”
“Harriet! Listen to me.”
“I am listening, Aunt.”
“Your conduct has been disgraceful!”
“In what way?”
“Secreting yourself away with that man.”
“Secreting ourselves? Oh, Aunt, there was nothing secretive. We could be seen quite distinctly through the palms . .. and we were.”
“That’s what I mean. It simply is not done. You are under my care and I am most displeased. You monopolized Mr. Menfrey. Did it not occur to you that other people might have wanted to speak to him?”
“He has a very small fortune, Aunt. Of course, there’s the title which hell have one day, I suppose … but a country estate ... and a comparatively small one. Not to be compared with earls and barons or even the Honorable Mr. Crellan.”
“Will you be silent! Well, at least he and Sylvia seem to be getting along well together.”
They did. My brooding eyes had watched them laughing as they selected from the delicacies at the buffet table, assisted by Lady Mellingfort’s powdered flunkeys.
“Oh, here they come. Mr. Menfrey, what delicious things you have brought us! Pray sit here. And Sylvia, my dear, you sit there.”
Bevil had drawn his chair a little closer to mine. “I trust,” he said, smiling at me, “this will be to your taste.” He was charming to my aunt, and towards Sylvia he displayed that mildly flirtatious attitude which he seemed unable to avoid. The evening was not exactly spoilt, but I had descended a long way from the Elysian heights.
Nor did I have a chance of regaining them, and all too soon we had said our farewells, Bevil had accepted an invitation to call at my aunt’s house, and our carriage was taking us along Park Lane. We were all silent.
In my bedroom I threw my gown over a chair and got into bed, where between waking and sleeping I imagined I was at Menfreya looking out to sea and then rowing over to the island where Bevil was waiting for me, or riding through the woods, laughing, talking; then galloping to escape from Aunt Clarissa and Sylvia, who were in pursuit. It was pleasant dreaming with only the faintest shadow of doubt and distrust —a true reflection of what had happened to me at Lady Mellingfort’s ball.
The next day my aunt suggested that it would be seemly for me to visit my stepmother, and I quite willingly obeyed. I was surprised at this little gesture of thoughtfulness until I learned that Bevil had called while I was out—as presumably had been arranged without my knowledge—and had taken wine and biscuits in the drawing room.
When I returned and discovered what had happened I felt murderous.
“He paid such attention to Sylvia!” cried Phyllis. “I thought you were trying to flirt with him,” put in Sylvia. “Well be is rather amusing, and in any case he would keep talking to me.”
I could not bear to listen to their conversation; but the triumph was mine when the next day—just before we were leaving for another of the season’s parties—one of the maids brought in the flowers.
They were in a charming box—two orchids—most tastefully displayed.
“Give it to me,” squealed Phyllis. “Oh, I do wonder who sent it”
My aunt came bustling in. “Flowers! Not at an unusual. Don’t get so excited. You'll find this is quite a practice when a man wants to show he is interested.”
Sylvia was scowling at her sister and trying to take the box from her. “How do you know they’re for you?”
“Mr. Sorrel was so attentive at Lady Mellingfort’s and he hinted that he hoped we’d meet again, so I’m not surprised ...”
“Oh, so they’re not for you?”
Sylvia was laughing at the card, which she had snatched out of the box.
“For you?” asked her mother.
But Phyllis tried to take the card from Sylvia and it dropped to the floor close to me and looking down at it I saw the writing on it “I'll be looking for you tonight, Harriet B.M.”
“It can’t be true,” said my aunt.
I picked up the box. My name was written on it very clearly. I took out the orchids and held them against my dress.
My aunt had snatched the card and was reading it.
“B.M.!” she cried.
“Specimens from the British Museum, you’re thinking? But I’m sure they were sent to me by Bevil Menfrey.”
I took the orchids to my room. I would take pains over my toilette and choose the dress which best matched the orchids.
This was a pale green and as I tried the orchids against it I knew it looked charming.
It was not easy to hide my elation, and my cousins and aunt were well aware of it.
“It doesn’t do, Harriet,” said my aunt gently, “to attach too much importance to a gift of flowers.”
“I am sure it does not, Aunt,” I answered demurely.
“That friend of yours, Gwennan, she was a wild creature. It was quite shocking the way she ran away on the eve of her wedding. They must have been ashamed of her.”
“Perhaps they all make a habit of running away after promising marriage,” suggested Sylvia.
“They’re a wild family, I have always heard, and their prospects are not dazzling. I heard on very good authority that there are debts. They’ve got some crumbling old estate in the wilds of Cornwall, and I doubt we should know them but for the fact that your father, Harriet, was the Member there. And he took the seat because the previous Member had resigned on account of a scandal. That was your friend’s father. I think one would have to be very careful with a family like that.”
“Oh, you should be,” I said mischievously. “You shouldn’t ask any member of it to call for morning wine and biscuits when I’m out”
The exotic scent of the orchids was in my nostrils, intoxicating me. I did not care what they said, what they thought.
I believed the night was going to be wonderful because I should see Bevil.
I was right It was. He spent the evening with me as he had before. We danced scarcely at all. Knowing how conscious I was of my infirmity, be suggested we talk instead. This we did, though not seriously, but I felt myself sparkling or I imagined I was. Perhaps happiness, like potent wine, makes you believe that of yourself. But Bevil laughed a great deal and at least gave the impression of enjoying my company, for he did not stray from my side the whole evening and he told me he was delighted to see me wearing the orchids.