A Laodicean : A Story of To-day

by Thomas Hardy

  XV.

  It was the day of the garden-party. The weather was too cloudy to becalled perfect, but it was as sultry as the most thinly-clad young ladycould desire. Great trouble had been taken by Paula to bring the lawnto a fit condition after the neglect of recent years, and Somerset hadsuggested the design for the tents. As he approached the precincts ofthe castle he discerned a flag of newest fabric floating over the keep,and soon his fly fell in with the stream of carriages that were passingover the bridge into the outer ward.

  Mrs. Goodman and Paula were receiving the people in the drawing-room.Somerset came forward in his turn; but as he was immediately followed byothers there was not much opportunity, even had she felt the wish, forany special mark of feeling in the younger lady's greeting of him.

  He went on through a canvas passage, lined on each side with floweringplants, till he reached the tents; thence, after nodding to one or twoguests slightly known to him, he proceeded to the grounds, with a senseof being rather lonely. Few visitors had as yet got so far in, and ashe walked up and down a shady alley his mind dwelt upon the newaspect under which Paula had greeted his eyes that afternoon. Herblack-and-white costume had finally disappeared, and in its place shehad adopted a picturesque dress of ivory white, with satin enrichmentsof the same hue; while upon her bosom she wore a blue flower. Her daysof infestivity were plainly ended, and her days of gladness were tobegin.

  His reverie was interrupted by the sound of his name, and looking roundhe beheld Havill, who appeared to be as much alone as himself.

  Somerset already knew that Havill had been appointed to compete withhim, according to his recommendation. In measuring a dark corner a dayor two before, he had stumbled upon Havill engaged in the same pursuitwith a view to the rival design. Afterwards he had seen him receivingPaula's instructions precisely as he had done himself. It was as he hadwished, for fairness' sake: and yet he felt a regret, for he was lessPaula's own architect now.

  'Well, Mr. Somerset,' said Havill, 'since we first met an unexpectedrivalry has arisen between us! But I dare say we shall survive thecontest, as it is not one arising out of love. Ha-ha-ha!' He spoke in alevel voice of fierce pleasantry, and uncovered his regular white teeth.

  Somerset supposed him to allude to the castle competition?

  'Yes,' said Havill. 'Her proposed undertaking brought out some adversecriticism till it was known that she intended to have more than onearchitectural opinion. An excellent stroke of hers to disarm criticism.You saw the second letter in the morning papers?'

  'No,' said the other.

  'The writer states that he has discovered that the competent advice oftwo architects is to be taken, and withdraws his accusations.'

  Somerset said nothing for a minute. 'Have you been supplied with thenecessary data for your drawings?' he asked, showing by the question thetrack his thoughts had taken.

  Havill said that he had. 'But possibly not so completely as you have,'he added, again smiling fiercely. Somerset did not quite like theinsinuation, and the two speakers parted, the younger going towards themusicians, who had now begun to fill the air with their strains from theembowered enclosure of a drooping ash. When he got back to the marqueesthey were quite crowded, and the guests began to pour out upon thegrass, the toilets of the ladies presenting a brilliant spectacle--herebeing coloured dresses with white devices, there white dresses withcoloured devices, and yonder transparent dresses with no device at all.A lavender haze hung in the air, the trees were as still as those of asubmarine forest; while the sun, in colour like a brass plaque, had ahairy outline in the livid sky.

  After watching awhile some young people who were so madly devoted tolawn-tennis that they set about it like day-labourers at the momentof their arrival, he turned and saw approaching a graceful figure incream-coloured hues, whose gloves lost themselves beneath her laceruffles, even when she lifted her hand to make firm the blue flower ather breast, and whose hair hung under her hat in great knots so wellcompacted that the sun gilded the convexity of each knot like a ball.

  'You seem to be alone,' said Paula, who had at last escaped from theduty of receiving guests.

  'I don't know many people.'

  'Yes: I thought of that while I was in the drawing-room. But I could notget out before. I am now no longer a responsible being: Mrs. Goodmanis mistress for the remainder of the day. Will you be introduced toanybody? Whom would you like to know?'

  'I am not particularly unhappy in my solitude.'

  'But you must be made to know a few.'

  'Very well--I submit readily.'

  She looked away from him, and while he was observing upon her cheek themoving shadow of leaves cast by the declining sun, she said, 'O, thereis my aunt,' and beckoned with her parasol to that lady, who approachedin the comparatively youthful guise of a grey silk dress that whistledat every touch.

  Paula left them together, and Mrs. Goodman then made him acquainted witha few of the best people, describing what they were in a whisper beforethey came up, among them being the Radical member for Markton, who hadsucceeded to the seat rendered vacant by the death of Paula's father.While talking to this gentleman on the proposed enlargement of thecastle, Somerset raised his eyes and hand towards the walls, the betterto point out his meaning; in so doing he saw a face in the square ofdarkness formed by one of the open windows, the effect being that of ahighlight portrait by Vandyck or Rembrandt.

  It was his assistant Dare, leaning on the window-sill of the studio, ashe smoked his cigarette and surveyed the gay groups promenading beneath.

  After holding a chattering conversation with some ladies from aneighbouring country seat who had known his father in bygone years, andhanding them ices and strawberries till they were satisfied, he found anopportunity of leaving the grounds, wishing to learn what progress Darehad made in the survey of the castle.

  Dare was still in the studio when he entered. Somerset informed theyouth that there was no necessity for his working later that day, unlessto please himself, and proceeded to inspect Dare's achievements thusfar. To his vexation Dare had not plotted three dimensions during theprevious two days. This was not the first time that Dare, either fromincompetence or indolence, had shown his inutility as a house-surveyorand draughtsman.

  'Mr. Dare,' said Somerset, 'I fear you don't suit me well enough to makeit necessary that you should stay after this week.'

  Dare removed the cigarette from his lips and bowed. 'If I don't suit,the sooner I go the better; why wait the week?' he said.

  'Well, that's as you like.'

  Somerset drew the inkstand towards him, wrote out a cheque for Dare'sservices, and handed it across the table.

  'I'll not trouble you to-morrow,' said Dare, seeing that the paymentincluded the week in advance.

  'Very well,' replied Somerset. 'Please lock the door when you leave.'Shaking hands with Dare and wishing him well, he left the room anddescended to the lawn below.

  There he contrived to get near Miss Power again, and inquired of her forMiss De Stancy.

  'O! did you not know?' said Paula; 'her father is unwell, and shepreferred staying with him this afternoon.'

  'I hoped he might have been here.'

  'O no; he never comes out of his house to any party of this sort; itexcites him, and he must not be excited.'

  'Poor Sir William!' muttered Somerset.

  'No,' said Paula, 'he is grand and historical.'

  'That is hardly an orthodox notion for a Puritan,' said Somersetmischievously.

  'I am not a Puritan,' insisted Paula.

  The day turned to dusk, and the guests began going in relays to thedining-hall. When Somerset had taken in two or three ladies to whomhe had been presented, and attended to their wants, which occupied himthree-quarters of an hour, he returned again to the large tent, witha view to finding Paula and taking his leave. It was now brilliantlylighted up, and the musicians, who during daylight had been invisiblebehind the ash-tree, were ensconced at one end with their harps andviolins. It reminded h
im that there was to be dancing. The tent had inthe meantime half filled with a new set of young people who had comeexpressly for that pastime. Behind the girls gathered numbers of newlyarrived young men with low shoulders and diminutive moustaches, who wereevidently prepared for once to sacrifice themselves as partners.

  Somerset felt something of a thrill at the sight. He was an infrequentdancer, and particularly unprepared for dancing at present; but to danceonce with Paula Power he would give a year of his life. He looked round;but she was nowhere to be seen. The first set began; old and middle-agedpeople gathered from the different rooms to look on at the gyrations oftheir children, but Paula did not appear. When another dance or two hadprogressed, and an increase in the average age of the dancers was makingitself perceptible, especially on the masculine side, Somerset wasaroused by a whisper at his elbow--

  'You dance, I think? Miss Deverell is disengaged. She has not been askedonce this evening.' The speaker was Paula.

  Somerset looked at Miss Deverell--a sallow lady with black twinklingeyes, yellow costume, and gay laugh, who had been there all theafternoon--and said something about having thought of going home.

  'Is that because I asked you to dance?' she murmured. 'There--she isappropriated.' A young gentleman had at that moment approached theuninviting Miss Deverell, claimed her hand and led her off.

  'That's right,' said Somerset. 'I ought to leave room for younger men.'

  'You need not say so. That bald-headed gentleman is forty-five. He doesnot think of younger men.'

  'Have YOU a dance to spare for me?'

  Her face grew stealthily redder in the candle-light. 'O!--I have noengagement at all--I have refused. I hardly feel at liberty to dance; itwould be as well to leave that to my visitors.'

  'Why?'

  'My father, though he allowed me to be taught, never liked the idea ofmy dancing.'

  'Did he make you promise anything on the point?'

  'He said he was not in favour of such amusements--no more.'

  'I think you are not bound by that, on an informal occasion like thepresent.'

  She was silent.

  'You will just once?' said he.

  Another silence. 'If you like,' she venturesomely answered at last.

  Somerset closed the hand which was hanging by his side, and somehow herswas in it. The dance was nearly formed, and he led her forward. Severalpersons looked at them significantly, but he did not notice it then, andplunged into the maze.

  Never had Mr. Somerset passed through such an experience before. Had henot felt her actual weight and warmth, he might have fancied the wholeepisode a figment of the imagination. It seemed as if those musicianshad thrown a double sweetness into their notes on seeing the mistress ofthe castle in the dance, that a perfumed southern atmosphere had begunto pervade the marquee, and that human beings were shaking themselvesfree of all inconvenient gravitation.

  Somerset's feelings burst from his lips. 'This is the happiest moment Ihave ever known,' he said. 'Do you know why?'

  'I think I saw a flash of lightning through the opening of the tent,'said Paula, with roguish abruptness.

  He did not press for an answer. Within a few minutes a long growl ofthunder was heard. It was as if Jove could not refrain fromtestifying his jealousy of Somerset for taking this covetable woman sopresumptuously in his arms.

  The dance was over, and he had retired with Paula to the back of thetent, when another faint flash of lightning was visible through anopening. She lifted the canvas, and looked out, Somerset looking outbehind her. Another dance was begun, and being on this account left outof notice, Somerset did not hasten to leave Paula's side.

  'I think they begin to feel the heat,' she said.

  'A little ventilation would do no harm.' He flung back the tent doorwhere he stood, and the light shone out upon the grass.

  'I must go to the drawing-room soon,' she added. 'They will begin toleave shortly.'

  'It is not late. The thunder-cloud has made it seem dark--see there;a line of pale yellow stretches along the horizon from west to north.That's evening--not gone yet. Shall we go into the fresh air for aminute?'

  She seemed to signify assent, and he stepped off the tent-floor upon theground. She stepped off also.

  The air out-of-doors had not cooled, and without definitely choosing adirection they found themselves approaching a little wooden tea-housethat stood on the lawn a few yards off. Arrived here, they turned, andregarded the tent they had just left, and listened to the strains thatcame from within it.

  'I feel more at ease now,' said Paula.

  'So do I,' said Somerset.

  'I mean,' she added in an undeceiving tone, 'because I saw Mrs. Goodmanenter the tent again just as we came out here; so I have no furtherresponsibility.'

  'I meant something quite different. Try to guess what.'

  She teasingly demurred, finally breaking the silence by saying, 'Therain is come at last,' as great drops began to fall upon the ground witha smack, like pellets of clay.

  In a moment the storm poured down with sudden violence, and they drewfurther back into the summer-house. The side of the tent from which theyhad emerged still remained open, the rain streaming down between theireyes and the lighted interior of the marquee like a tissue of glassthreads, the brilliant forms of the dancers passing and repassing behindthe watery screen, as if they were people in an enchanted submarinepalace.

  'How happy they are!' said Paula. 'They don't even know that it israining. I am so glad that my aunt had the tent lined; otherwise such adownpour would have gone clean through it.'

  The thunder-storm showed no symptoms of abatement, and the music anddancing went on more merrily than ever.

  'We cannot go in,' said Somerset. 'And we cannot shout for umbrellas. Wewill stay till it is over, will we not?'

  'Yes,' she said, 'if you care to. Ah!'

  'What is it?'

  'Only a big drop came upon my head.'

  'Let us stand further in.'

  Her hand was hanging by her side, and Somerset's was close by. He tookit, and she did not draw it away. Thus they stood a long while, the rainhissing down upon the grass-plot, and not a soul being visible outsidethe dancing-tent save themselves.

  'May I call you Paula?' asked he.

  There was no answer.

  'May I?' he repeated.

  'Yes, occasionally,' she murmured.

  'Dear Paula!--may I call you that?'

  'O no--not yet.'

  'But you know I love you?'

  'Yes,' she whispered.

  'And shall I love you always?'

  'If you wish to.'

  'And will you love me?'

  Paula did not reply.

  'Will you, Paula?' he repeated.

  'You may love me.'

  'But don't you love me in return?'

  'I love you to love me.'

  'Won't you say anything more explicit?'

  'I would rather not.'

  Somerset emitted half a sigh: he wished she had been more demonstrative,yet felt that this passive way of assenting was as much as he could hopefor. Had there been anything cold in her passivity he might havefelt repressed; but her stillness suggested the stillness of motionimperceptible from its intensity.

  'We must go in,' said she. 'The rain is almost over, and there is nolonger any excuse for this.'

  Somerset bent his lips toward hers. 'No,' said the fair Puritandecisively.

  'Why not?' he asked.

  'Nobody ever has.'

  'But!--' expostulated Somerset.

  'To everything there is a season, and the season for this is not justnow,' she answered, walking away.

  They crossed the wet and glistening lawn, stepped under the tent andparted. She vanished, he did not know whither; and, standing with hisgaze fixed on the dancers, the young man waited, till, being in no moodto join them, he went slowly through the artificial passage lined withflowers, and entered the drawing room. Mrs. Goodman was there, biddinggood-night to the early
goers, and Paula was just behind her, apparentlyin her usual mood. His parting with her was quite formal, but that hedid not mind, for her colour rose decidedly higher as he approached, andthe light in her eyes was like the ray of a diamond.

  When he reached the door he found that his brougham from the QuantockArms, which had been waiting more than an hour, could not be heard of.That vagrancy of spirit which love induces would not permit him to wait;and, leaving word that the man was to follow him when he returned, hewent past the glare of carriage-lamps ranked in the ward, and under theouter arch. The night was now clear and beautiful, and he strolled alonghis way full of mysterious elation till the vehicle overtook him, and hegot in.

  Up to this point Somerset's progress in his suit had been, thoughincomplete, so uninterrupted, that he almost feared the good chance heenjoyed. How should it be in a mortal of his calibre to command successwith such a sweet woman for long? He might, indeed, turn out to beone of the singular exceptions which are said to prove rules; but whenfortune means to men most good, observes the bard, she looks upon themwith a threatening eye. Somerset would even have been content that alittle disapproval of his course should have occurred in some quarter,so as to make his wooing more like ordinary life. But Paula was notclearly won, and that was drawback sufficient. In these pleasing agoniesand painful delights he passed the journey to Markton.