She talked, yet appeared afraid to utter a word; once he had intercepted a scowl that Mr. Blagdon had cast at the lower end of the table, and during a pause he had called out in a harsh, dominating voice:
“I say, what a noise you are all making down there. What a jovial, merry party! I’m glad my wife is so amusin’.”
His wife became pink, and then in halting sentences, began to tell Lord Gaythorne and the Bishop, her immediate neighbours, some little tales respecting their recent excursions and experiences. Having secured the attention of the company, and during a dead silence, in her clear, girlish voice, she proceeded to relate how they had made a delightful trip with Sir Algy and Lady Vickery, and had all dined together at an old inn in the mountains and driven back by moonlight. This story was listened to in horrified amazement, as it was a well-known fact that Sir Algy Vickery was not a married man. Kind Lady Gaythorne burst in upon the pause, with jerky recollections of her own honeymoon,—now a matter of somewhat ancient history,—but once again the little bride, anxiously striving to entertain, brought forward in all innocence, one of the stories which she had heard in Paris. The unhappy girl had not the remotest idea that she was retailing a hideously improper double entendre (a recent succès of the Boulevards). She only remembered that when told by Lady Slater it had been received—why she could not say—with yells of laughter and applause. When she concluded, there ensued a grim and petrifying silence. To the ladies, the tale was cryptic; to most of the men it was as if a bomb had exploded on the mahogany! Lord Gaythorne gasped, the Master of Hounds choked convulsively in his serviette. As for the Bishop, he had been changed into an image of stone. The guests stared blankly at their girlish hostess, dressed in the most outré French style, and calmly relating the Frenchiest of stories! But she turned on them a face of beautiful, child-like innocence, and actually seemed to appeal for their approval, and applause.
This pitiful incident had far-reaching results. By gradual degrees, the intelligence filtered through the County, that Blagdon’s pretty young wife was a simpleton—just one degree removed from a mere imbecile. What a pity! Unconscious of her enormity, the bride made a timid sign to Lady Gaythorne, and rose from her place. She was presently made aware that her first dinner-party had been a failure, for as her husband held the door open for the ladies to pass forth, the glance he threw at her, was charged with fury.
CHAPTER XV
ONCE in the vast drawing-room, most of the ladies scattered about or assembled in congenial groups. Mrs. Fenchurch wandered round, eyeglass in hand, examining the miniatures and old china, with the air of a connoisseur, and possible purchaser! Lady Gaythorne and Lady Belford conferred together over the character of a housekeeper, the Bishop’s helpmate whispered of family troubles to her cousin, the wife of the County Member, and Frances Lumley and the girl hostess made advances to one another; they were likely to be friends as well as neighbours, and Letty felt drawn to this charming, light-hearted girl, who, although unmarried at the great age of twenty-six, had evidently far more experience and decision than herself.
Meanwhile the rheumatic dowager, enthroned on a sofa, presented a picture of frozen dignity; to her the coffee had tasted as gall and wormwood, her mind being embittered by the outrageous behaviour of Mrs. Fenchurch, who was playing the part of hostess with considerable effect. Positively her attitude was that of triumphant hospitality!
Numerous good works, and far-reaching activities, had brought Mrs. Fen into contact with many of the ‘best people.’ An alert woman of the world, she had interests in common with most of the matrons present; she exchanged a word or two with Mrs. Mostyn, the Bishop’s wife, respecting a certain charity; then she flitted over to the Master’s lady to enquire about the new Kennels, told Lady Belford of a marvellous cure for Flue, and assured Lady Gaythorne that she could give her two tickets for the Idiots’ Home.
“She had much better keep one for her niece!” muttered Lady Belford, who had three unmarried daughters, and a sharp tongue.