The Black Benedicts (19 page)

“
I don
’
t—I don
’
t expect you to exonerate me at all,
”
she cried, her sudden surge of anger and resentment almost as great as his own,
“
and in fact I realize perfectly that it was probably the stupidest thing I
’
ve ever done in my life to spend whole evenings in your brother
’
s room, although I honestly thought it was only his music he lived for, and I knew that he was lonely—terribly lonely! And downstairs you were none of you lonely—and the invitation to me to have dinner in the dining-room was issued only out of politeness, and I was well aware that Miss Martingale at least would infinitely prefer it if the governess kept her distance! Governesses do not fit in well with dinner parties, and it was Serena
’
s company that
was
desired—not mine! Serena is not a baby
—
she was able to behave herself without having me at her elbow, and in any case I couldn
’
t dress the
part..
.”

“
What do you mean by that?
”
he asked, with upraised brows, as she paused for breath.

“
I have only one evening dress,
”
she answered at once,
“
and I have worn it on several occasions already. It would probably amuse Miss Martingale to see me wearing it again and again, but I— I have a littl
e
pride of my own
...”

She bit her lip so hard to prevent herself going on in the same manner that a tiny spot of blood spurted, and When she touched her lip shakily with her handkerchief the tiny square of cambric was marred by a faint smear of red.

Raife Benedict
’
s strange sherry-brown eyes seemed to narrow a little.

“
You don
’
t appear to have a great deal of
liking
for Miss Martingale,
”
he observed.

Mallory did not deny the charge, but at the same time
s
he felt bitterly ashamed of herself because she had permitted that dislike to become evident. He probably despised her for her lack of control, and added to that she felt certain he must resent even the slightest criticism of his No. 1 guest.

He turned away from her and walked to the window, looking out at the softened green lawns, with the slanting light of the setting sun gilding the edges of them, and the blithe figure of Serena suddenly appeared from the house and started to chase a butterfly over the velvet turf.

“
And what about to-morrow night?
”
he asked suddenly, without turning.
“
What are you proposing to wear for the dance to-morrow?
”

“
Nothing,
”
she replied to this, without hesitation.
“
I don
’
t propose to be at the dance.
”

“
I
see.
”
He turned and surveyed her curiously, as if she interested him.
“
Then how will you spend the evening?
”

“
I
’
ve promised to help Mrs. Carpenter in the kitchen, and by making myself generally useful. The maids are going to have a great deal to do, in spite of all the hired help, and an extra pair of hands will come in useful. Besides,
”
she added hastily,
“
in that way I shall hear the music, and see quite a lot of the dancing without
...”

“
Without ma
k
ing your appearance in your one evening frock!
”
he finished for her, very dryly.
“
Very well—so long as I know exactly what you are doing, and there is no danger of a repeat performance of last night. Adrian is attending the ball as a buccaneer—a costume he fancied, even if the role is a little beyond him—and I fancy you will be quite safe from any attentions from him. But I should like to know exactly
where
you
are, and what you are doing, at given periods throughout the evening.
”

“
Very well,
”
she answered, almost meekly, and then felt more insignificant than she had ever felt in her life as he turned his back upon her deliberately and walked back to his desk.

“
You may go now, Miss Gower,
”
he said, almost casually, and without waiting for anything further from him she left the room with burning cheeks. But her hands were cold with humiliation as she started to climb the stairs.

The whole of the next day until the dance started at nine o
’
clock there was no sense to be got out of anyone, certainly not Serena. She was so excited that by the time Mallory commenced to dress her she was already a little fractious, and Mallory thought how much wiser it would have been if, instead of being allowed to have a part in the dance itself,
s
he had been given something extra tempting for her supper and allowed to sit up for about an hour beyond her usual bed-time and permitted to view the arrival of the guests. After that, securely tucked up in her own bed, she could not have missed hearing the lilt of the orchestra, and would probably have been lulled to sleep by it at last.

Instead of which, because Miss Martingale thought it an excellent idea, and had adopted a policy of currying favour with the child, she was to be allowed up until goodness knows what hour, and the following day She would be so tired and cross that she would be well-nigh unmanageable.

But when she was dressed she looked so delightful that Mallory had to tell her honestly that no one could look nicer, and that she would almost certainly be the belle of the ball. Then, after giving herself another lengthy admiring glan
c
e in the mirror,
she
hugged Mallory and told her that she was sorry she hadn
’
t got a fancy dress costume, too, and then pulled on her
w
hite lace mittens and tore downstairs as if she was anxious not to miss a moment of what was going on, looking exactly as if she had stepped out of one of
R
omney
’
s most enchanting studies.

Mallory
wat
c
hed her go with a little twinge at her heart, because there were moments when
she
was quite sure Serena was fond of her, yet to-night she was quite happy to leave her alone upstairs. Then she told herself sternly that she was employed as a governess, and a governess
’
s role was not to seek to emulate the ways of those who employed her.

She had dinner with Mrs. Carpenter in her little sitting-room, and as soon as dinner was over the guests began to arrive. The house was transformed by flowers, and in addition to Phipps in his best black there was a bevy of other men servants and hired waiters hurrying backwards and forwards from the domestic quarters.

The drive, which Mallory viewed from her bedroom window, was lined with cars, and almost every one of the guests had taken advantage of the opportunity their invitation cards presented them with to don fancy dress. There were cavaliers and columbines, pierrots and shepherdesses, Cleopatras and Bonnie Prince Charlies, as well as more original and ambitious characters, and only the host apparently appeared to be in ordinary evening dress. When Mallory encountered him in the hall as she was carrying a tray of sherry glasses through to the buffet in the ballroom, he was looking his usual impeccable self in
w
hite tie and tails, but he made no attempt to join in the true spirit of the evening by adopting a gay pretence at disguise.

He stopped
s
hort and looked at her with a sharp frown as she very nearly cannoned right into him with her tray of glasses, and as she apologized hurriedly Sonia Martingale came gliding sinuously towards him from the foot of the great carved staircase, looking the most alluring eastern
houri
it was possible to imagine. She was heavily made up, her eyes smeared with
kohl
,
and her all but diaphanous floating trousers and breast-plates were scattered like star-dust with sequins. She slipped a possessive hand inside her host
’
s arm, but her eyes reflected a look of surprise.

“
But, darling,
”
She exclaimed,
“
what has happened to your costume? You were to be an Elizabethan like that ancestor of yours in the library, but here you are wearing ordinary evening things.
”

“
As a matter of fact
,”
he answered, a little shortly Mallory thought, as she moved away from them.
“
I changed my mind about wearing fancy dress
yesterday. I f
eel more like myself, and
a
trifle less conspicuous, as I am.
”

But by that time Mallory was out of earshot, and she did not hear Sonia
’
s rather wailing protest made in answer.

Much later Mallory seized the opportunity to enjoy a brief period of rest and quiet inside Phipp
’
s pantry, normally a positive blaze of
sil
ver, although it was almost all being used to-night. She was sitting on a high stool and sipping a cup of strong coffee and listening to the delectable strains of a Viennese waltz, to which she imagined Raife Benedict and Sonia dancing with effortless grace, which readied her
cle
arly from the ball-room, when a shadow appeared in the doorway, and she discovered that it was her employer who was looking in at her, a quite unreadable expression on his face.

She put down the cup of coffee hastily—so hastily that it spilled into the saucer, and some of it splashed on to her dress—as if she had no right to it, and he observed in a very dry voice:

“
Trying to keep up your strength on coffee? Surely Phipps
c
ould
provide you with something more suited to the occasion than that!
”
Then he looked at her more
cl
osely, noting the rather pronounced pallor of her face—for she had been on her feet
f
or quite a while now, carrying all sorts of trays, heavily loaded and otherwise—and as it was a warm night, and the pantry was rather airless, there was even a bead or two of perspiration on her
‘
brow, and her hair formed moist, feathery curls about her face.
“
I want you to go upstairs and change into that grey dress of yours,
”
he said,
“
and then come down and join us in the ball-room. Will you do as I ask
?
”

She looked at him in astonishment, for there was no arrogance in his voice—only something polite and rather earnest, as if he hoped she would do as he wished.

“
If—if I must!
”
she murmured.

“
You don
’
t have to, but I
’
d like you to,
”
he answered.

“
Very well,
”
and she slid from her stool and slipped past him in the doorway.

She felt too tired to take very mu
c
h pains with her dressing, but a dab
of
eau de cologne
behind her ears and at her temples freshened her up considerably. When she crossed the hall to the corridor which led to the ball-room everything seemed suddenly very quiet, and when she reached the ball-room the reason for the quietness was explained to her at once.

Couples were no longer dancing on the glistening floor, and instead they were all seated round
i
t on the elegant chairs and couches, and the lights had been lowered. At one end something in the nature of a stage had been rigged up, with velvet curtains falling before it from ceiling to floor. Just as she entered the ball-room, tip-toeing softly because of the expectant hush, the curtains were just about to part and rise, and then the whole stage became softly flood-lighted and revealed an elegant backcloth, depicting a Grecian temple and a starry night sky.

Then the flood-lighting was switched off, and a spot-light replaced it—a spot-light which focussed on and followed the movements of an exquisite graceful figure,
cl
ad in flesh-pink tights and a brief ballet costume, with slender, weaving white arms, and a coronet of silken black plaits wound about a perfect, patrician head.

The orchestra commenced to play, softly, music by Tchaikovsky. Mallory caught her breath. This was the first time she had seen a real ballet-dancer before a selected audience, and the beauty and the poetry of it all enchanted her. While she watched she was able to forget that it was Sonia Martingale who was performing superbly before her, and that she had every reason to envy her and feel bitterly unhappy because of her.

She looked along the rows of seats in front of her, and with ease she made out one dark, sleek head and slightly arrogant profile, just then quite immobile, while its owner obviously worshipped at the shrine of beauty. Wistfully, in a spir
i
t of true renunciation,
s
he thought that she could quite understand him—as a man who loved beauty he could have done nothing other than capitulate before such flawless beauty, and such undisputable talent, as Sonia Martingale displayed.

Then someone touched Mallory lightly on the shoulder, and she turned to find Darcy standing at her elbow. Darcy looked agitated—so agitated that Mallory looked amazed—and she was making signs to Mallory that she wished to speak to her, and that the matter was urgent.

Mallory slid noiselessly out of her seat and followed the heavier figure of the Belgian nurse out into the corridor. Darcy turned on her and caught her by her arm, and she exclaimed hoarsely:

“
It is the child—it is Miss Serena
!
She is ill, and I do not know
w
hat to do for her. We must get the doctor, because she is so sick, and I do not know how or where to find him! He is not here, and he is not at his house
...
! I have already telephoned! Will you see what you can do
...
? Mr. Adrian will drive you to the village if we cannot get in touch with him any other way
...
”