Best of all I knew that we were watched, that speculations were being made about us.
Can it be possible that right at the beginning of the season Harriet Delvaney, who has nothing—but nothing at all to recommend her since her father married that actress—is going to be the first of the fillies to reach a winning post?
It was triumph.
We were conspicuous, Bevil and I, for we were always together, and it was only natural that the society papers should notice us.
Aunt Clarissa pointed it out to me; she was half-impressed, half-envious. It seemed to her incredible that I, with no better fortune than her girls nowadays, and not a quarter of their beauty, should be the first to be mentioned.
I had come down to breakfast to find my aunt and cousins already at the table.
“Look at that,” said Aunt Clarissa.
“Oh, an account of Tuesday’s ball.”
“Read what it says.”
“Mr. Bevil Menfrey, Member of Parliament for a division of Cornwall, is seen to be constantly in the company of Miss Harriet Delvaney. Miss Delvaney is the daughter of the late Sir Edward Delvaney, who was Member for the division which Mr. Menfrey now represents. It will be remembered that Sir Edward died some eighteen months ago, shortly after his marriage. Is the enjoyment these two charming young people find in each other’s company due to politics … or ...or”
I laughed aloud.
“So we have been noticed.”
“I only hope,” said Sylvia, “that he is not amusing himself.”
“I am sure he is. He’s not the man to endure boredom.”
“You pretend to be so naive.”
“I, my dear coz?”
“Really, Harriet, you are very flippant,” chided my aunt. “This could be a very serious matter.”
I did not answer. It was a serious matter. The most serious in the world.
A few days later Bevil called at my aunt’s house.
By good fortune or by design he chose a time when my aunt and cousins were paying calls. I was in my own room and was startled and delighted when the maid appeared to tell me that he was in the drawing room.
“Asking for you, Miss Harriett,” she said, with a little grimace. The manners of my aunt and cousins did not endear them to those who worked for them; and consequently the servants here were delighted with my social success in putting their noses out of joint—of which of course they had heard, since I had no doubt this was freely discussed belowstairs.
I wished that I was not in my plain lavender gingham and wondered whether I had time to change; I looked into my mirror and saw that my hair was untidy as usual. I looked very different from the young lady who had taken such pains to appear at her best at social entertainments.
I said: “Tell Mr. Menfrey that I will be with him in a few minutes.”
As soon as the door closed, I threw off my gingham and put on the gray faille dress with a separate bodice and skirt. While I struggled with the hooks I was conscious of the seconds ticking away, but when I had fastened the last one I noticed again the untidiness of my hair and paused to comb it It had taken a little more than five minutes to make the transformation. I have often thought of those five minutes as some of the most significant of my life.
I hurried down to the library to find Bevil standing with bis back to the fireplace. He took both my hands in his and for a few seconds stood there smiling at me.
“What great good fortune to find you in … alone.”
“My aunt and cousins should not be long,” I answered demurely. “Unless they should be unduly delayed.”
“Ladies,” he said, “have a habit of being unduly delayed.” His eyes were laughing at me, and I was aware that he knew I had stopped to change my dress.
“It’s very becoming,” he went on, “but with such intricate booking, four hands are better than two. Allow me.”
He turned me round and I felt first his fingers as he booked the dress and then his lips on my neck.
“Bevil!” I cried.
“My reward,” he said. “You must always expect to pay for services rendered.”
I did not turn round to face him because I knew that my face would betray my delight.
He said rather abruptly: “I’m glad I found you alone. There’s something I want to tell you.”
“Yes, Bevil?”
“Come and sit down.”
He took my arm and we sat on the sofa side by side.
“I’m leaving for Cornwall today,” he said.
I did not speak; my heart was beating too fast and my throat felt constricted. I should be denied the pleasure of his company at the next functions, but he had something to say to me and he had come to say it I believed I knew what it was, and if I were right I would be completely happy. I wanted him to take me away to Cornwall, away from the London house to which I should surely have to return very soon.
“I’ve got to be at a meeting there,” went on Bevil. “It’s absolutely essential; otherwise, I shouldn’t go.”
“Of course.”
“The politician’s daughter would understand. And Harriet …”
The carriage had drawn up outside the door, and my aunt and cousins were alighting. I heard my aunt’s shrill voice. “Come along, Sylvia.”
Bevil looked at me and grimaced. My aunt was in the hall. I heard her penetrating voice. “In the library.” Then she was at the door, and sweeping into the room.
“My dear Mr. Menfrey, how perfectly charming of you to call.”
I felt deflated. The moment had been at hand and had passed.
Bevil looked rueful too, I imagined.
And as Sylvia and Phyllis appeared and our little tete-a-tete was mined, I assured myself that if he had been on the point of asking me to marry him, it would merely be a postponement, and I should not be too despondent.
It was only later that I realized the important part chance plays hi our lives and that stopping to change from gingham to faille had put an alarming question mark in my life which would haunt me for some time to come.
I felt desolate after Bevil had left I called to see Jenny, and while I was in the house I went up to my old room to find Fanny there.
She was looking unhappy so I asked her if anything was wrong.
“I’ve been hearing about you in the papers,” she said. “They’re hinting at a wedding. I didn’t much like it”
“What didn’t you like?”
“You're growing up now, and I reckon you think I shouldn’t be talking to you like I used. But I’m taking the liberty because to me you'll always be my girl … well, I had you since you were a baby.”
“Yes, Fanny, I know, but I’m not a baby anymore, you see; and suppose I were to marry? I’m eighteen, you know.”
“It ain’t that, Miss Harriet It’s ... it’s the way they’re coupling your name with … Well, I like to think of you settling down and having me with you, and then the little ’uns that come along would be mine too.”
“There’s no reason why that shouldn’t happen, Fanny.” She looked fierce. “No, there’s no reason and that’s how it would be. But I’d like to see you happy and … married to the right man.”
“You surely wouldn’t want to choose him for me?”
“I wouldn’t think to go so far as that But there’s some you know that’s wrong ‘uns.”
WI don’t know what you’re hinting.”
“There’s gossip and rumors going the rounds, and they don’t always come to the ears of them they could be most useful to. But I’m not going to mince my words no more, Miss Harriet. I’m talking about that Mr. Bevil Menfrey, that’s who. Now it’s no use you looking at me all cold and haughty like, I know you don’t want to bear a word against him. No more do I want to say it to wound you. But a slap in the face now is better than a lifetime of misery. Now look here, Miss, don’t you get into a paddy. I’m worried. I am, and it’s all along of what you could so easily fall into.”