Into this waiting shivered one small seen movement that seemed to snap the room apart, a door handle turning.
Then with a cry unheard, sung now, unuttered then by hinges and which fled back to creation in those limitless centuries of staring glass, with a shriek only of silent motion the portals came ajar with as it were an unoperated dash of cymbal to usher Mrs Weatherby in, her fine head made tiny by the intrusion perhaps because she was alone, but upon which, as upon a rising swell of violas untouched by bows strung from none other than the manes of pale unicorns that quiet wait was ended, the room could gather itself up at last.
As after a pause of amazement she stepped through, murmuring over a shoulder "Oh my darlings," the picture she made there, and it was a painting, was echoed a thousand thousand times; strapless shoulders out of a full grey dress that was flounced and soft but from which her shoulders rose still softer up to eyes over which, and the high forehead, dark wings of her hair were folded rather as a raven may claim for itself the evening air, the chimes, the quiet flight home to rest.
"How good of Gaspard" Jane said with an awed voice. At which Philip and Mary entered in their turn. The boy switched on more light.
"No don't" Mrs Weatherby reproved in the same low tones. "You'll spoil it all" she said.
"But it's lovely" Miss Pomfret murmured.
Pascal sidled through the door which he closed, then turned the lights down again until the room held its original illumination yet there was now the difference made by this intrusion of bare arms and women's shoulders. Mary studied hers in a mirror she had reached. Dressed in black with no jewelry the similar milk white of her face and chest was thinner, watered down beside Mrs Weatherby's full milk cream of flesh which seemed to retain a satisfied glow of the well-fed against Mary's youth starvation. But there was this about the whites of Miss Mary Pomfret's eyes, they were a blue beyond any previously blessed upon humanity by Providence compared with the other ladies to be present, and it was perhaps to these sweet rounds of early nights that her own attention turned be cause Jane's were red veined as leaves.
"Is Madame satisfied?" Pascal asked, almost one old friend to another, his false restaurant accent forgotten at this minute.
"Monsieur Medrano you are truly wonderful" the lady said. "When I had to sell my precious brooch to give the evening I didn't know-how could I tell-"she faltered, and he could see her eyes fill with tears.
"We have done my best for Madame" the great man answered. "Madame is more beautiful than ever" he proudly announced. "I say to Gaspard, 'Gaspard' I said 'let all be as never before my friend because you know who will be taking our Parma rooms tonight.'"
"No don't-you mustn't-I shall really cry in a moment" Mrs Weatherby exclaimed from the heart. "But it is perfect!"
"Jolly good" her son brought out.
"Ah Philip please not, I'm sorry to be so rude, you see you'll ruin this perfect thing. There do just be content to be an angel and simply place the cards."
Pascal made small adjustments to napkins folded into linen crowns.
"You did tell the chef about our soufflй?" Mrs Weatherby asked eventually.
When the great man replied he used the restaurateur's manner.
"He said it over to me by heart, by heart I made him repeat, Madame. And we have a small favour to ask Madame. We will order orchids for the ladies, gardenias for the gentlemen if you please?"
"But Pascal good heavens my bill!"
"The management they come to me" he proclaimed "they say 'it is not often we have with us Mrs Weatherby, Medrano.' They remember Madame. No no Madame if you will allow us it is on the 'otel" he said.
"It's too much, children have you heard? Pascal you must thank Mr Poinsetta very specially from me. No I will come tomorrow myself!" She fingered daffodils here and there on the top table, not to disarrange these but almost as though to reassure herself that all were true, to prove to her own satisfaction that she was not bewitched.
"I shall be at call" Pascal said and sidled out. Mrs Weatherby followed him with her eyes. When the door was quite shut she turned the glance on Mary who was still examining herself in a glass. The older woman stared.
"My dear you look sweet" she gravely said.
"Doesn't she" Philip answered from his task.
"Do I?" the girl said and turned to him.
Mrs Weatherby frowned.
"Wonderful" she echoed. "And isn't it good of you to come so soon to help. I always feel so nervous, distracted before a party I'm giving. And now this divine place has truly done us proud! Philip I wonder if you realize there aren't many women in London they'd put themselves out for in this heavenly way."
Her son looked up, the seating list in one hand. "You're telling me" he said. "Look Mamma you've a card here" he waved it "and there's no mention of him in my plan. Mr William Smith."
"Nonsense my dear, poor William's dead these ages past."
"Well there's his card."
"Give it here Philip. That must be an old one. Why it's all yellow. How odd and sad." She tore the thing up into very small bits. She looked about for an ashtray. "How dreadful" she murmured. "Philip you didn't do this. to me?"
"Never heard of the man" he replied with what was obviously truth.
"Mary my dear I wonder if I might bother you" Mrs Weatherby suggested brightly. "Such a shame to leave these pieces when everything's so fresh! Of course there is behind my daffodils in the fireplace but I rather think not don't you, I never like to look the other side of anything in hotels. Could you be sweet and put them right outside?"
Mary received those pieces, and was reaching for the handle, when the door opened and her father's head appeared.
"Well here we are" he cried at his most jovial. "Hello my love" he said to his daughter as she passed him. "Jane my dear, me dear" he boomed then strode towards her.
She offered him a cheek. While he kissed she pushed hers just the once sharply back at him. She did the same when he kissed the other side.
"Dear darling John how kind" she cried. "D'you think I did right? I said I wouldn't have Eduardo to announce Weo the guests. After all we do all know each other don't we?"
"As long as they find the way dear. I notice Mary has.
Until I found her note at home I distinctly thought we were to come on to this together."
"It's been such true kindness of her to arrive early and help" Mrs Weatherby insisted. "No the cloakroom people will tell stragglers where we are. And then I shall send Philip out to round them up. But haven't they done me proud darling?"
"Why but you're the only person out of all London tonight Jane! Even at this sad hotel they realize that."
"You're such a comfort indeed! Philip have you finished with those cards?" At which Mary Pomfret ushered Richard Abbot through the door. "Oh Dick!" their hostess cried.
"I say I say" he said as he advanced and kissed both her cheeks in turn while she pushed sharply twice back at him. "Well look at you" he exclaimed gazing fondly on her. "Wonderful eh?" he demanded and ended with a "Simply astounding!"
"But which?" she demanded radiant. "The room or me?"
"God bless my soul both. No, here, what am I saying? Dear Jane" he said "could there be a choice? I mean with you standing there! Hello John. Seems we're a bit early aren't we, you and I?"