Mr. American

by George MacDonald Fraser

  Traffic in that direction was heavy, the waiters having abandoned all attempt at service in the chaotically-crowded ballroom; Sir Cecil Stewart, having broken his cardboard dumb-bell pounding it on the table in an attempt to order further magnums of champagne, led his party en masse to the nearest bar, where they struggled to attract the attention of the hard-pressed servers. Mr Franklin used his commanding presence to clear a way for Peggy and the other ladies, who clustered at the buffet chattering expectantly while Sir Cecil bleated: 'Pink champagne! I say, you fellows, what about some pink champagne?' and the barmen strained and sweated in the deafening din. Mr Franklin, with Peggy in front of him and Greek goddesses hemming him in on either side, heard a familiar squeal of laughter from the direction of the crowded dance-floor, and turned to see Pip with a glass of bubbly in one hand while with the other she expertly fended off the attentions of Neptune, whose eye had been taken by her silvery fish-netted thighs and had attempted a friendly pinch.

  'I'm king o' the sea -hic- an' you look like a lovely little mermaid!' explained the amorous monarch, to which Pip responded with 'Leave off, you silly old goat!' as she slipped nimbly away from his embrace. In the next moment she was face to face with Mr Franklin, shrilling with delight: 'There you are! I spotted you in the parade! Well, don't you look bully!' She drew a bead with her forefinger, clicked her tongue, and winked at him. 'The man from Cactus Gulch, or wherever it was! What did you think of the show? Was I all right? Stop it, you stupid get, or I'll lose my temper!' This last was addressed to Neptune, who was trying to prod her with his trident, while around them the guests, attracted by the appearance of one of the star turns of the cabaret, laughed and egged him on. Pip, having diverted the drunken thrust of the trident, and evidently unaware of the attention directed at her, thrust her torso forward at Mr Franklin, laughing proudly, and tapping at the jewellery round her neck.

  'And see - what d'you think of that, Mr American? I'm wearing your sparklers - always do on special occasions! Don't they look lovely, then?'

  The words rang out clearly, even in the noise round the buffet, and as Pip uttered them Mr Franklin was aware of Peggy at his elbow. Pip was leaning forward, her face alight, one silver gloved hand holding up for his inspection the pearl and diamond necklace on which, in his extravagant euphoria, he had spent so recklessly five years ago, and Peggy was registering with interest the information that her husband had bestowed on this glittering soubrette a trinket which even an unpractised eye - and Peggy's was by no means unpractised - must have valued at some hundreds of pounds.

  The implications dawned on Pip as quickly as they did on Mr Franklin. Her smile vanished as though wiped from her face as she realised who was the beautiful Marie Antoinette appraising her from Mr Franklin's side; it said something for her self-control that she did not express her dismay in one of those rich oaths which the ladies of the Folies Satire had been wont to address to enthusiastic members of the audience when they tried to clamber over the footlights. But she gasped and her eyes widened in alarm - Mr Franklin noticed irrelevantly that her squint seemed to become momentarily more pronounced, possibly with the shock; then, actress that she was, Pip had recovered, smiled at Peggy, and extended her hand.

  'You're Mrs Franklin,' she said. 'I've seen you at parties, and wanted ever so much to meet you. I'm Pip Delys - how d'you do?'

  It would not have astonished Mr Franklin if his wife had turned on her heel and walked away; indeed, for a split second he was wondering how she would manage it in that enormous skirt through a crowd of people. But instead Peggy was shaking hands and saying: `How do you do, Miss Delys? I must congratulate you on your splendid performance - quite the high spot of the evening.'

  'Oh - thanks!' It obviously crossed Pip's mind for an instant that the compliment was double-edged, but she went lightly on: 'It's a lot easier when you've got acts like Harry and Peter either side of you. Anyway, I've been wanting to congratulate you for a long time.'

  'Oh?' Peggy glanced at Mr Franklin. 'Whatever for?'

  'On the way you look,' said Pip bluntly. 'I think you're the most beautiful woman in London. You know that picture of you - the Lavery one? I just stood and gaped at it the other day at Grosvenor Gallery. I really did - it just takes your breath away, you know what I mean?'

  'Well, how kind of you to say so.' Peggy's manner was perfectly easy. 'Praise indeed, from someone who has been hung twice at the Royal Academy.'

  'It wasn't me that was hung,' said Pip. 'It was Signor Matania.'

  Mr Franklin was aware that Lady Stewart, the Greek goddesses, and several other ladies in the paty were digesting every word, and that Lady Stewart's eyes were intently examining Pip's necklace; he could sense the busy clicking in her ladyship's mind as words, facts, and inferences were docketed against the time when they would be needed for gossip. But now Sir Cecil was plunging in heartily, making some ponderously gallant joke about how beastly it was to talk of 'hanging' beautiful gels, and insisting that Pip should join their party. Mr Franklin silently cursed him for an insensitive idiot, and was astonished when Pip accepted, laughing as she held up her glass to be refilled from one of the magnums which the knight had managed to obtain from the buffet. But he was more astonished still when, after they had trooped back to their table, he became aware that Peggy and Pip appeared to be conversing amiably on the other side of the large table; they were separated by Neptune, but since he had relapsed into a semi-comatose condition they were able to talk across him without difficulty.

  It was not, from that point on, the most cheerful party that Mr Franklin could recall. Of all the infernal luck - that Pip should have identified that necklace as his gift, in front of Peggy and half the tattlers of Mayfair; even the most charitable of gossips could not be blamed for drawing the obvious conclusion, false though it was. What must Peggy be thinking? But strangely enough Peggy seemed to be thinking nothing at all; when the dancing recommenced, and she had been led ponderously round the floor by Sir Cecil, who sang an accompaniment to the music as he circled unsteadily in his leopardskin, she stopped behind Mr Franklin's chair and whispered: 'Let's have the next dance.' And when he took her on to the floor, she talked and laughed cheerfully and teased him for being so quiet; Mr Franklin wondered if he was hearing aright. Was it possible that she had misunderstood Pip's remark about the necklace, or perhaps not even caught it at all? He felt he must broach the subject, and explain, but the Savoy ballroom was hardly the place, and she seemed to be enjoying the party thoroughly; they danced together twice again, and when towards dawn the lights were lowered, and they took the floor for the last waltz, with Mr Lauder and Mr Dawson singing "Auld Lang Syne" in deep-chested accompaniment, she nestled close against him in apparent content. It was a puzzled Mr Franklin who sat down to the final event of the party, which was breakfast in the lower restaurant; despite the fact that the ball had now been in progress for over eight hours, and enough liquor had been consumed to float the new Aquitania, Sir Cecil's group seemed to have lost none of their zest for enjoyment; even Neptune had got his second wind, and Peggy herself was as vivacious as ever, clapping her hands and laughing gaily as she joined in bursting the coloured balloons which descended in showers from the ceiling at the conclusion to the breakfast. And when they emerged into the sunlight of the London morning, the extravagant costumes looking strangely tawdry by day, she made room for Mr Franklin in the back of the car, pulling her voluminous skirt to one side.

  'It doesn't matter if it gets a bit rumpled now,' she sighed, settling into a corner of the seat. 'Gosh, what a splendid party! Wasn't it marvellous?'

  `Did you enjoy it?' asked Mr Franklin mechanically.

  `Of course! It was easily the best this season. Didn't you?' 'Er, yes ... I guess so.'

  `Your cowboy costume was an immense success. I told you it would be, didn't I? And I won a prize for my Marie Antoinette,' said Peggy contentedly. 'That was rather a score, don't you think?'

  `Well, you deserved to. You looked wonderful.' />
  'Oh, it's a pretty costume, but I'm glad it came off so well. Wasn't that nice of Pip Delys?'

  Mr Franklin braced himself. He had not spoken to Pip after their first encounter, and she had left the party during breakfast, pleading the need for some sleep before a matinee of her show, and including him in a general goodbye wave to the whole table. `Wasn't what nice?'

  'To say what she did - about my being the most beautiful woman in London. All rot, of course, but it was jolly nice of her just the same. I like her - and she's a marvellous artiste. One of these bubbly people who can put it across; she had the audience eating out of her hand.' Peggy yawned. `Golly, I'm tired. I could sleep for a year.'

  `Peggy.' He considered his words carefully. `About Pip, and that necklace. I want to explain.'

  `What, the pearl and diamond thing? I thought it suited her perfectly - just right for that kind of blonde looks.' Peggy sounded sleepy. `And that heart shape would be the sort of thing she would like - I don't mean that it's vulgar, but that it suits, exactly ...'

  'I wanted to tell - '

  `You're awfully good at that sort of thing, for a man. Those emerald earrings you gave me were perfect. Other things, too - d'you remember - ?' She stifled another little yawn' - there was that housemaid we had who left to get married - the dumpy one, Tilly, wasn't it? - and we chose a locket for her. You picked the right one. You've got a taste in these things.'

  He glanced at her sharply, looking for the sarcastic curl at the corner of her mouth, but it wasn't there; she seemed perfectly casual, snuggled in her corner, chatting drowsily with her eyes almost closed.

  `I didn't want you to misunderstand,' he said. `Especially with those other women there - Lady Stewart, and so on, because I've no doubt they misunderstood - oh, they'd be happy to. And Pip blurting out the way she - '

  'I should think she blurts a good deal, doesn't she?' Incredibly, she sounded amused. `It wasn't terribly discreet of her.'

  'It was damned unfortunate, but I guess she didn't mean - well, to cause any misunderstanding.'

  `Well, she didn't.' Peggy's voice was still drowsy, but now she gave a sudden squeak of excitement and sat up, looking eagerly out of the window. They were passing through Trafalgar Square, which was already heavy with traffic and pedestrians in the morning sunshine, but what had attracted her attention was a group in fancy dress, obviously early leavers from the Savoy party, who were clustered round one of the fountains in altercation with two helmeted policemen. One of the revellers, a statuesque young woman who had won a prize in the ladies section (classical) as Minerva, was bathing in the fountain, despite the attempts of a constable to get her out, while the others were arguing and getting in the way, to the delight of a gathering crowd. `Oh, look Mark! It's Jessie Freeman - and Jinks! Heavens, they'll get themselves arrested! Oh, the asses!' Peggy rapped on the glass partition. 'Stop, Ernest! Let's see what - '

  `Drive on, Ernest!' said Mr Franklin, and as Peggy's laughter turned to disappointment, he tried to recall her to the matter in hand.

  'Of course she did - cause misunderstanding, I mean. There she was, with an expensive necklace I'd given her - what on earth were people like Sarah Stewart going to think -'

  `What? Oh, Jessie - they've got her out! Why, she'll be pinched for indecency!' Peggy, giggling, was staring out of the back window, but as the car swung towards the Mall and her view was cut off, she turned to meet Mr Franklin's look. 'Well, they won't think anything they don't think already, will they?'

  'What d'you mean?' He stared at her, appalled.

  'About Pip Delys? Why, that she's your - ' Peggy fluttered her fingers ' - little side-show.'

  'Good God!'

  'Well, naturally,' said Peggy, looking at him almost with curiosity. 'After all, she is.'

  'She's nothing of the goddam sort!'

  Peggy continued to look at him, and then sat back in her corner with a little shrug. And now the tiny curl was there on her lip, along with a look of mild surprise in her eyes.

  'Well,' she said, 'it doesn't matter. But if she's wearing your necklace, which must be worth at least a couple of hundred -

  'That's exactly what I mean! That's what those women'll think, having the kind of minds they've got, and I - '

  'Well, you can't very well blame them, can you?'

  - and I just want you to know that I gave Pip that necklace long ago - five years ago, before I'd even met you. Matter of fact it was only the second day I was in London.'

  'Well,' said Peggy, 'she must have been extremely accommodating on the first day.'

  Mr Franklin sighed. `Very well, I've never pretended I was a saint before I met you. But I do want you to understand that I've been a faithful husband since, and that the conclusions which charitable ladies like Sarah Stewart will undoubtedly have drawn from Pip's - well, unfortunate remarks last night, are - well, they're the wrong ones, d'you see?'

  'Oh, come off it, Mark!' The tiny curl was a scornful smile now. 'It's hardly just a conclusion drawn from "Pip's unfortunate remark", is it? Not when you take her about Town, and visit her in the middle of the night '

  'What?' He was incredulous. 'What did you say? When did I visit her in the middle of the night?'

  'I don't know.' Peggy shrugged carelessly. 'Anyway, it doesn't matter - '

  'What do you mean, it doesn't matter? of course it matters, if you think I've got a mistress that I go sneaking off to in the middle of the night! Who the blazes told you that?'

  Peggy seemed mildly amused, which stunned him as much as her allegation had done. 'Oh, someone or other. It may have been Sarah - no, it was Poppy, I remember. When we were in Switzerland - she got a letter from Jeremy - you know, Jeremy Paton-Streeter? He'd seen you with your Pip at a night-club somewhere, and afterwards, like the little toad he is, he and his chums followed you to her flat and waited to see you come out in the small hours. That's just the kind of scandal they love, of course. So it was hardly news tonight, you see - '

  'My God,' said Mr Franklin quietly. Indeed he had gone with Pip to her Bloomsbury flat, and they had drunk coffee for half an hour - yes, it probably had been after midnight. And, for a man who had never accounted himself stupid, it had been a remarkably foolish thing to do, knowing what gossip could make of it. But it had never crossed his

  mind that anyone would know, or notice - he ought to have been aware that the Lotus Club on any night would probably contain at least one person who knew him, and if it happened to be the kind of little creeping Jesus that Jeremy was well known to be . and on top of that, the Royal Academy business, showing Pip and himself together, and then last night at the Savoy party ...

  'My God,' he said again. 'What else could you think?'

  He turned to look at her, and found her regarding him without any apparent emotion except - yes, there was no doubt of it - a gently amused curiosity. There was the tiny cynical touch to the mouth, but the perfect face beneath the silver Marie Antoinette wig was serene; there was no hostility in her eyes, not even displeasure. And that was baffling. Dispassionately considered, the evidence was damning, and yet unless he was entirely mistaken, Peggy simply didn't mind. And now her words confirmed it.

  'Anyway, what does it matter? I mean, I'm sorry if it upsets you that I know, because it needn't. As a matter of fact, from the way you've spoken of her, during that Cessford woman's trial, I thought perhaps you knew that I knew. About Pip Delys, I mean. But if you didn't ... well, really, there's no reason to fret about it now - '

  'No reason to fret? You think - you've been thinking for God knows how long, that I've been keeping an actress as a mistress - and there's no reason to fret?'

  'Well, hardly - I mean, it's not so unusual, is it? And we've hardly been cooing love-birds for the past year or two, have we?' Her tone was mild, almost pleasant. 'Oh, now and then - but it's not exactly been one long blissful honeymoon, has it? I mean, if you'd bolted off to the Gaiety stage door the day after we were married, or even in the first year, I daresay I'd have be
en rather miffed, but we're quite an old married couple now. And we've gone our different ways - I know you don't like Society much, and it's been a bit of a bore for you. In fact, I felt quite cheered up, in a way, when Poppy told me - and this Pip seemed rather a nice person, and not the kind who'd cause fuss. Did you really think I would mind?'

  Mr Franklin found himself staring out of the window at the red-jacketed Guardsmen before the Buckingham Palace railings, vaguely aware that they were halted in heavy traffic at the head of the Mall. It was as though he had been physically stunned; he could remember precisely the same sensation when he had been clubbed in a saloon, and for minutes afterwards had been able to move only feebly, his thoughts scattered and incoherent, words forming only with immense difficulty.