CHAPTER 12.
The great ball in honour of Lord Belpher's coming-of-age was at itsheight. The reporter of the Belpher Intelligencer and Farmers'Guide, who was present in his official capacity, and had beenallowed by butler Keggs to take a peep at the scene through aside-door, justly observed in his account of the proceedings nextday that the 'tout ensemble was fairylike', and described thecompany as 'a galaxy of fair women and brave men'. The floor wascrowded with all that was best and noblest in the county; so that ahalf-brick, hurled at any given moment, must infallibly have spiltblue blood. Peers stepped on the toes of knights; honorables bumpedinto the spines of baronets. Probably the only titled person in thewhole of the surrounding country who was not playing his part inthe glittering scene was Lord Marshmoreton; who, on discoveringthat his private study had been converted into a cloakroom, hadretired to bed with a pipe and a copy of Roses Red and Roses White,by Emily Ann Mackintosh (Popgood, Crooly & Co.), which he was todiscover--after he was between the sheets, and it was too late torepair the error--was not, as he had supposed, a treatise on hisfavourite hobby, but a novel of stearine sentimentality dealingwith the adventures of a pure young English girl and an artistnamed Claude.
George, from the shaded seclusion of a gallery, looked down uponthe brilliant throng with impatience. It seemed to him that he hadbeen doing this all his life. The novelty of the experience hadlong since ceased to divert him. It was all just like the secondact of an old-fashioned musical comedy (Act Two: The Ballroom,Grantchester Towers: One Week Later)--a resemblance which washeightened for him by the fact that the band had more than onceplayed dead and buried melodies of his own composition, of which hehad wearied a full eighteen months back.
A complete absence of obstacles had attended his intrusion into thecastle. A brief interview with a motherly old lady, whom evenAlbert seemed to treat with respect, and who, it appeared was Mrs.Digby, the house-keeper; followed by an even briefer encounter withKeggs (fussy and irritable with responsibility, and, even whiletalking to George carrying on two other conversations on topics ofthe moment), and he was past the censors and free for one nightonly to add his presence to the chosen inside the walls of Belpher.His duties were to stand in this gallery, and with the assistanceof one of the maids to minister to the comfort of such of thedancers as should use it as a sitting-out place. None had so farmade their appearance, the superior attractions of the main floorhaving exercised a great appeal; and for the past hour George hadbeen alone with the maid and his thoughts. The maid, having askedGeorge if he knew her cousin Frank, who had been in America nearlya year, and having received a reply in the negative, seemed to bedisappointed in him, and to lose interest, and had not spoken fortwenty minutes.
George scanned the approaches to the balcony for a sight of Albertas the shipwrecked mariner scans the horizon for the passing sail.It was inevitable, he supposed, this waiting. It would be difficultfor Maud to slip away even for a moment on such a night.
"I say, laddie, would you mind getting me a lemonade?"
George was gazing over the balcony when the voice spoke behind him,and the muscles of his back stiffened as he recognized its genialnote. This was one of the things he had prepared himself for, but,now that it had happened, he felt a wave of stage-fright such as hehad only once experienced before in his life--on the occasion whenhe had been young enough and inexperienced enough to take acurtain-call on a first night. Reggie Byng was friendly, and wouldnot wilfully betray him; but Reggie was also a babbler, who couldnot be trusted to keep things to himself. It was necessary, heperceived, to take a strong line from the start, and convinceReggie that any likeness which the latter might suppose that hedetected between his companion of that afternoon and the waiter oftonight existed only in his heated imagination.
As George turned, Reggie's pleasant face, pink with healthfulexercise and Lord Marshmoreton's finest Bollinger, lost most of itscolour. His eyes and mouth opened wider. The fact is Reggie wasshaken. All through the earlier part of the evening he had beensedulously priming himself with stimulants with a view to amassingenough nerve to propose to Alice Faraday: and, now that he haddrawn her away from the throng to this secluded nook and was aboutto put his fortune to the test, a horrible fear swept over him thathe had overdone it. He was having optical illusions.
"Good God!"
Reggie loosened his collar, and pulled himself together.
"Would you mind taking a glass of lemonade to the lady in bluesitting on the settee over there by the statue," he said carefully.
He brightened up a little.
"Pretty good that! Not absolutely a test sentence, perhaps, like'Truly rural' or 'The intricacies of the British Constitution'.But nevertheless no mean feat."
"I say!" he continued, after a pause.
"Sir?"
"You haven't ever seen me before by any chance, if you know what Imean, have you?"
"No, sir."
"You haven't a brother, or anything of that shape or order, haveyou, no?"
"No, sir. I have often wished I had. I ought to have spoken tofather about it. Father could never deny me anything."
Reggie blinked. His misgiving returned. Either his ears, like hiseyes, were playing him tricks, or else this waiter-chappie wastalking pure drivel.
"What's that?"
"Sir?"
"What did you say?"
"I said, 'No, sir, I have no brother'."
"Didn't you say something else?"
"No, sir."
"What?"
"No, sir."
Reggie's worst suspicions were confirmed.
"Good God!" he muttered. "Then I am!"
Miss Faraday, when he joined her on the settee, wanted anexplanation.
"What were you talking to that man about, Mr. Byng? You seemed tobe having a very interesting conversation."
"I was asking him if he had a brother."
Miss Faraday glanced quickly at him. She had had a feeling for sometime during the evening that his manner had been strange.
"A brother? What made you ask him that?"
"He--I mean--that is to say--what I mean is, he looked the sort ofchap who might have a brother. Lots of those fellows have!"
Alice Faraday's face took on a motherly look. She was fonder ofReggie than that love-sick youth supposed, and by sheer accident hehad stumbled on the right road to her consideration. Alice Faradaywas one of those girls whose dream it is to be a ministering angelto some chosen man, to be a good influence to him and raise him toan appreciation of nobler things. Hitherto, Reggie's personalityhad seemed to her agreeable, but negative. A positive vice likeover-indulgence in alcohol altered him completely. It gave him asignificance.
"I told him to get you a lemonade," said Reggie. "He seems to betaking his time about it. Hi!"
George approached deferentially.
"Sir?"
"Where's that lemonade?"
"Lemonade, sir?"
"Didn't I ask you to bring this lady a glass of lemonade?"
"I did not understand you to do so, sir."
"But, Great Scott! What were we chatting about, then?"
"You were telling me a diverting story about an Irishman who landedin New York looking for work, sir. You would like a glass oflemonade, sir? Very good, sir."
Alice placed a hand gently on Reggie's arm.
"Don't you think you had better lie down for a little and rest, Mr.Byng? I'm sure it would do you good."
The solicitous note in her voice made Reggie quiver like a jelly.He had never known her speak like that before. For a moment he wasinclined to lay bare his soul; but his nerve was broken. He did notwant her to mistake the outpouring of a strong man's heart for theirresponsible ravings of a too hearty diner. It was one of Life'sironies. Here he was for the first time all keyed up to go rightahead, and he couldn't do it.
"It's the heat of the room," said Alice. "Shall we go and sitoutside on the terrace? Never mind about the lemonade. I'm notreally thirsty."
Reggie followed
her like a lamb. The prospect of the cool night airwas grateful.
"That," murmured George, as he watched them depart, "ought to holdyou for a while!"
He perceived Albert hastening towards him.
A Damsel in Distress Page 12