"Royals ripen early, I suppose; naturally they age as quickly; perhaps his Royal Highness is arriving at a second childhood, and his heart turns to people of the Dolly the Dairymaid type."
But in her first rage Mrs. Charmington had been weak enough to let out that the prince had called young Mrs. Haggard "lovely." Mrs. Charmington had received her own unsigned patent as a recognized beauty from the discriminating admiration of his Royal Highness. The fiat had gone forth, and Julia Charmington had commenced her reign. The Charmington boot and the Charmington Bouquet were very freely advertised. A reproduction of Mrs. Charmington herself decorated the interior of the omnibuses.
"Why use dangerous cosmetics when Jones' soap retains youth and health for the complexion, and fosters the development of beauty?" Underneath the portrait was a facsimile of Mrs. Charmington's fashionable scrawl, "I owe you so much, so very much. I have never used any other soap than yours. Very faithfully yours, Julia Charmington."
Ill-natured people said that Mrs. Charmington owed a great deal to Messrs. Jones. That the cheque that paid for her well-known turn-out had been signed by the firm; that they had twice paid her dress-maker's bill, when that terrible person had become importunate; that they had settled the account of Monsieur Alphonse, the great coiffeur; that they had paid her husband's debts. Some of them, more imaginative, declared that Mrs. Charmington was even a sleeping partner in the saponaceous firm. But the ill-natured people were quite wrong; it was not Messrs. Jones who paid Mrs. Charmington's bills. Little Jack Charmington, her husband, had a snug four hundred a year of his own, which quite sufficed for his modest needs. Mrs. Charmington's graceful letter had been written by her in a moment of good nature, and, it may be said in confidence, at the instigation, some eight years ago, of Big Reginald Haggard, who had looked on the whole matter as a joke, and who had, at that stormy period of his career, been very much in Mrs. Charmington's confidence. The real fact was that Mrs. Charmington kept Messrs. Jones before the public, and those astute advertisers did the same kind office for the lady.
Thus it was that Georgie became "lovely Mrs. Haggard." This is what the writers of serious books pompously call "the secret history of the whole matter."
Georgie now, to her astonishment, found her movements invariably chronicled in the society journals. It rather annoyed her than otherwise, but her husband was pleased, and that was enough for Georgie.
The lazy giant was sprawling on the most comfortable of the sofas; the pair were alone in the dainty little drawing-room. Young Mrs. Haggard's eyes were full of tears. "Won't you take me with you," she sobbed appealingly, "it's only for six months, Reginald?"
"I can't, my darling; it's a beast of a climate, and the mosquitos would eat you up. I shall only be away for six months; you know I have made up my mind to get rid of the whole bag of tricks. It's quite true the land can't run away, but there are always rows and revolutions and smashes going on; you can't trust anybody. Of course, Georgie, I should like you to go; but think of the risk. It won't wash at all. We'll stay over Christmas here in England. I suppose I must take you down to see the old man, and then we'll go straight off to Rome, and finish the winter there. I'm getting rather bored, you know, Georgie, with the fuss people make in town. It's deuced fine fun for you of course."
The fact was that this excellent husband hated playing second fiddle, and he found, to his astonishment, that young Mrs. Haggard's social success had far eclipsed that of Georgie Warrender. As a good-looking young bachelor, though a detrimental, he had been very popular. As a wealthy parti and a sort of lion he had been the fashion himself the previous season, and to his own knowledge his curly hair and big moustache had caused a quicker beating of the heart in many a female breast. But as Beauty's husband he felt out of his element. "You lucky beggar!" had been repeated to him so often that he hated the phrase. Of course, he still admired his wife as the handsomest woman he had ever clapped eyes upon; he wasn't even jealous of the great attention that Georgie habitually received. First, because he knew he could trust her implicitly; but secondly, and this was far the more powerful reason, because he was too much a man of the world ever to render himself ridiculous.
"You know we can have rather a jolly time of it in Rome, Georgie," he said. "You must by this time be as heartily sick of the eternal tête-à-tête as I am. I don't mean that," he said, springing to his feet as he noticed that his young wife shuddered and turned pale; "but the fact is, Georgie, I don't want to be pointed at like poor old Jack Charmington, and I confess, dear," he added with a smile, "that I should like a little more of 'lovely Mrs. Haggard's' society."