"Oh, say I'm sorry he's unwell, and that the other matter is all right."
She extended her hand, which the widow hastened to grasp warmly. The latter even raised her veil and pushed her face forward, but this was too much for Isbel, who deliberately ignored the invitation. Mrs. Richborough, recognising her faux pas, made all speed to cover it up:
"I hear you're to be married, my dear?"
"Oh, yes…Who told you?"
"Mr. Judge hinted at it…I'm so glad!"
"Thanks! But I wish he'd leave my private affairs alone."
"He's so isolated, and had so little to talk about."
"He has no right to discuss me. I don't like it."
"My dear, it was only the shadow of a hint-perhaps not even that. Perhaps he said nothing at all, and it was merely my intuition…Well, then, good-bye till to-morrow. By the way, if you would care to dash off a few lines to him, I have paper and a fountain pen."
Isbel declined, thinking the offer rather strange. They separated, to go their respective ways.
Five minutes later, as she passed along the now nearly deserted parade towards the hotel, she whipped a hairpin out of her hair, and, halting for a moment, compared it carefully with that which Judge had sent her. They were identical in size and shape…She returned them both to her hair.
Chapter XIII THE LUNCH AT THE METROPOLE
It had been raining heavily, but the sky was rapidly clearing and there were great tracts of blue everywhere as Isbel mounted the steps of the Metropole Hotel at Worthing shortly after noon on the following day. She had been unable to escape from her aunt in time to catch the earlier train, but to compensate for this she was free to spend the whole day as she pleased. By a lucky chance, Mrs. Moor was compelled to go up to town on business.
Judge was waiting in the porch. He grasped her hand warmly, preventing her apologies.
"It was very good of you to come at all, Miss Loment. As far as we are concerned, the time is of no importance. Mrs. Richborough will be here immediately."
Even as he spoke, the widow appeared. Her tall and lovely form was attired as usual in the rich, soft furs and velvets which she so much affected. She moved charmingly, and her grace-fully swaying waist was that of a quite young woman, but Isbel no sooner saw the angular, witchlike face than her old feelings of repugnance and distrust returned.
As it was so late, an early lunch at the hotel was agreed upon, before starting. They passed into the restaurant. Here Isbel received an unpleasant shock. She recognised and was recognised by a girl acquaintance belonging to her particular set-Louie Lassells, who probably was more intimate with Blanche, Marshall, and the rest than with her own relations.
Louie was lunching with a couple of youngsters of the subaltern type; she seemed in the highest spirits, and champagne was already on the table. She pledged Isbel in a glass from the other side of the room. Presently she came over to her, her dark, bold, handsome, gypsy-like face looked very flushed and defiantly gay.
"So this is where you get to!" she began, throwing a single critical glance towards Mrs. Richborough and Judge.
"I'm not the only one, it appears," retaliated Isbel. She laid down her knife and fork, and looked up calmly. "You're having a high old time, obviously."
"Rather! We're making a day of it. Sorry I can't introduce you, but we're all here incog. I'm supposed to be in Regent Street at this blessed minute."
"Bravo! I'm supposed to be in Brighton. We'd better draw up a deed."
Louie laughed immoderately. "What shall we drink it in?" Her eye roved round the table. "What are you drinking? Only Burgundy?…I say…"-she bent to whisper-"you're not having much of a time, are you? Where did you dig them up?"
Mrs. Richborough unluckily overheard.
"Surely I know your face?" she remarked graciously to Louie, who still held on to the edge of the table. "Your name is just hovering on the tip of my tongue."
The girl smiled vaguely, without even looking at her. "One sees so many people. It's going to turn out a quite charming day, I think…Well, ta-ta, Isbel! No manner of use asking you to join us, of course?"
"You see, I can't."
Louie trod lightly back to her impatient squires, while Isbel watched with some amusement Mrs. Richborough's efforts to regain her composure.
"She seems a pleasant girl," remarked Judge.
"Is she a very close friend of yours?" inquired the widow of Isbel, returning, however, to her plate.
"We know each other fairly well."
"What an unfortunate coincidence that she should be lunching here to-day, of all days."
"Why?" asked Judge.
"Miss Loment rather wished to keep her visit private, I fancy. I'm afraid she is inclined to regard it in the light of an escapade."
"Is that really so, Miss Loment?"
"Naturally I have appearances to consider. However, it's no good crying over spilt milk if anyone splits, it won't be Louie."
"Quite sure?" asked Mrs. Richborough, with a smile which was almost a sneer.
"I hope I can trust my own friends to behave with common decency."
Judge looked perplexed. "I hope you're not here against your will?"
"Why should I come, if I hadn't wanted to? I'm a free agent."
"Can't you grasp, Mr. Judge? La tante terrible! Miss Loment is experiencing the fearful joy of being out of school."
"Clever, but unsound, Mrs. Richborough. I was thinking more of public opinion."
"You think you are acting unwisely?" asked Judge, wrinkling his forehead.
"Oh, I know if there's any doubt about it the judgement won't be given in my favour. Lunching in a strange town, with quite unknown people, strikes me as being exactly calculated t lead to a lot of questions being asked. And we know that if a question is uncharitable, the answer to it won't be otherwise. Even if I were to plead altruistic motives, I'm afraid it wouldn't be of any avail."
"Does that imply you're here out of kindness?"
"Perhaps it comes to that in the end. The pleasure of a chaperon is always rather impersonal."
"Of a chaperon, Miss Loment?
"Didn't you know? I'm chaperoning Mrs. Richborough. She made such a strong point of it that really I hadn't the heart to refuse. Otherwise, I didn't mean to come."
Judge's expression was one of absolute amazement.
"Here is some misunderstanding, evidently. Mrs. Richborough was kind enough to offer herself as chaperon to you, on learning that you were so anxious to see the house once more…"
The widow actually coloured, beneath her paint and powder. "Really, I'll never equivocate again as long as I live! Miss Loment seemed so unwilling to join us that there was positively nothing left to do except appeal to her sympathy…I feel an absolute criminal."
"Oh, it's funny, Mrs. Richborough!" said Isbel. "Don't start apologising or you'll spoil the joke."
"But surely, Miss Loment," said Judge, "you didn't for one minute imagine that I desired to fetch you all the way from Brighton merely to act as a companion to another lady? I must have made that clear in my letter."
"Oh, it's a mix-up, and that's all about it. Mrs. Richborough was obliging me, and I was under the impression that I was obliging her. When women start conferring favours on one another there's no end to the complications. To show our thorough disinterestedness, we stick at nothing."
"It must certainly have been a most confusing situation for both of you," remarked Judge, smiling at last "However, the main point is we've got you here, by fair means or foul; and I don't think you need be in the least afraid of tittle-tattle, as we are both highly respectable people. If might suggest a compromise, you had better terminate your dispute of generosity by agreeing to chaperon each other, since in the eyes of the world I am such a dangerous person.?