One letter Magda sent to Ned on the subject, doing it avowedly to save Patricia trouble. She put much of herself into the sheet, writing and rewriting more times than she would have cared to avow. No direct answer was called for, though she felt sure that one would come. But Ned wrote instead to Patricia, and merely sent "thanks" to Magda. Her spirits went down to zero, and she became a burden in her home.
[CHAPTER XXIX]
SO AWFULLY SUDDEN!
FEW would have supposed, on the eve of Patricia's evening, that she suffered under her broken engagement. To all appearance, both then and during the weeks before, she was sublimely indifferent, fully occupied with plans and arrangements for her forthcoming "charade."
No, not quite "to all appearance." Those about her, Mr. and Mrs. Framley and the servants, knew that she was not her usual self. Excited, impatient, hasty, ready to take offence, difficult to please, hard to get on with—they had found her all this. But outsiders saw little of it.
Magda, annoyed for Rob, who she felt sure had suffered ill-treatment at Patricia's hands, would gladly in the first instance have drawn back from taking an active part; and Mrs. Royston shared the feeling. But since Patricia had made it a matter of personal request that all should go on, unaltered; and since she had been at some expense in getting dresses for Magda and Merryl, it was hardly possible for them to give the whole thing up against her will.
Both Ivor and Fairfax were induced to run down to the Manor for a night, some little time before the important day. Then of course Ivor met Bee, and Ned met Magda; but Patricia claimed everybody's time and attention. Bee was her usual gentle controlled self; and she and Ivor came together as mere acquaintances; yet each understood the other rather better after those few hours.
As for Ned, he was pleasant and friendly with Magda, her old chum still; but she somehow felt that she no longer had a monopoly of him. There was a slight indefinable difference; whether due to their altered relations as man and woman, or whether to the fact that he did not look upon her as he had once done—she was unable to determine. The perplexity weighed.
This little visit was soon over, and everything promised to go well. On the last evening a final rehearsal would take place; almost equal to the "real thing." Mr. Framley had a distant engagement, which ensured his absence, much to Patricia's relief. Mrs. Framley had begun to remonstrate, as she found how far from a simple charade the affair promised to be.
But Patricia by this time had the bit between her teeth. "It had to go on," she said composedly. "If uncle didn't like it—well, then it wouldn't happen again. Too late now to make any difference."