IV
The Hurlingham Ball at the beginning of July 1914 was the last of its kind I ever attended—probably the last I shall ever attend. We went a party of eight, as Loring wanted to offer O'Rane a complimentary dinner after his election at Yately, and Mayhew conveniently arrived in London for his summer leave as the tickets were being ordered. To an outsider we must have presented a curious study in contrasts. Amy Loring had confided to me her certainty that her brother would propose to Violet before the evening was out, and four of us were therefore in a state of watchful anxiety. Of the other four, the two girls spent their time affecting interest in a heated political discussion in which O'Rane and Mayhew, with a fine disregard of fitness, were volubly engaged.
"Well, I'll tell you something you don't know," said Mayhew, when we were by ourselves at the end of dinner and the last of a dozen preposterous stories had been exploded by O'Rane. "The Archduke Franz Ferdinand has gone with his wife for a tour through Bosnia——"
"Even I knew that," I said, as I cut my cigar.
"Don't interrupt," Mayhew urged. "I'll lay anybody a hundred to one they don't come back alive."
There was a suitably dramatic pause as he sat back with hand extended waiting for his wager to be taken.
"He's the heir, isn't he?" Loring inquired. "Is this some beastly new riddle?"
"It's the solution of a very old one," said O'Rane gravely. "The Archduke married a morganatic wife who'll be Queen of Hungary and can't be Empress of Austria. It'll save a lot of complication if they're put out of the way. After all, it's only two human lives."
"But—is this known?" I asked Mayhew in astonishment.
"It's being openly discussed in Budapest——"
"And London," O'Rane put in.
"Confound you, Raney," Mayhew cried. "You hear everything."
"It's a pretty story, even if it isn't quite new," said O'Rane. "I shan't take your bet, though, Mayhew; you're too likely to win. You see," he went on, turning to us, "the Bosnians simply hate the Archduke, so it'll look quite plausible if anyone says they've blown him up on their own initiative. And then Austria will have a wolf-and-lamb excuse for saying Servia was responsible and annexing her, just as she did with Bosnia and Herzegovina six years ago. This is the way Powers and Potentates go to work in our enlightened twentieth century."
The discussion was interrupted by a footman entering to say that the cars were at the door. It was still daylight when we began to motor down, but we arrived to find the gardens lit with tiny avenues of fairy lights and to be greeted with music borne distantly on the warm, flower-laden breeze. For an hour I danced or wandered under the trees watching the whirl of bright dresses through the open ballroom windows. Loring and Violet had disappeared from view and only returned to us at supper-time so exaggeratedly calm and self-possessed that Amy squeezed my arm warningly as we entered the Club House.
"George, I've come to the conclusion that we must have one more ball before we settle down," he said, as we drew our chairs in to the table.
"This is about the last of the season," I warned him.
He waved away the objection.
"I'll give one myself—just to a few friends and neighbours at Chepstow—some time about the end of the month before everybody's scattered. I'm giving it in Violet's honour."
We turned to look at her, and the self-possession gradually faded out of her face.
"Violet, is it true?" Amy asked, jumping up in her excitement.
She nodded, with very bright eyes.
"I will not have a scene!" Loring exclaimed. "Amy, sit down! If you try to kiss me in public.... Now, do try to look at the thing reasonably. It might have happened to anyone; it has, in fact, happened to a number of people. As for speeches and glass-waving.... Look how well George takes it! No nonsense about being glad to have me as a cousin, no grousing because he'll have to be best man—oh, we've arranged all that, my son—he just sits and drains a second bumper of champagne before anyone else has finished his first.... Amy, I shan't speak about it again!"
"My dear, I'm so happy," said his sister, subsiding with moist eyes into her chair.
"We're tolerably satisfied ourselves," Loring admitted. "Aren't we, Violet?"
But Violet made no reply beyond a quick nod of the head that was not yet quick enough to hide the trembling of her lips.