“No, thank you,” I replied. “I always prefer to dress myself.”
With some difficulty I saw Tottie out of the room. Then I locked the door, and with a violent effort kept my hands from tearing those pretty and dainty robes. My heart was full of the most ungovernable anger. I felt that kind-hearted Mr Gray had offered me an insult. I must be sacrificed, and Mr Gray must deck me for the altar. No, no, not quite that; not this lowest depth of all. How thankful I was that I had my mother’s wedding-dress in my trunk.
I dressed myself slowly and with care. I was determined to look well. I was determined to show Mr Gray that Rosamund Lindley was not altogether dependent on him for her chance of looking nice—for looking what she was, on her mother’s side at least, a lady of old family and proud descent.
Remembering Hetty’s advice, I piled my dark hair high on my head; then I put on the dainty silk stockings and shoes with their funny pointed toes; the rich embroidered petticoat came next; over all, the dress. The skirt was very full, but the silk was so soft and rich that it fell gracefully. It showed a peep of my shoes, with their seed pearl ornaments, as I walked. Behind, it was cut away in a pointed train. My mother’s wedding-dress fitted me to perfection. The old ruffles of lovely lace lay softly against my young throat. More ruffles of lace half concealed half showed my arms. I did not need bracelets, and I clasped no ornament of any kind round my neck.
As I was completing my toilet the dinner gong sounded solemn and loud through the house. I had heard the hall-door bell ring two or three times. I knew that the guests had arrived. Still I lingered, putting final touches. At the last moment I pinned a bunch of the softest blush roses, which must have come straight from the Riviera, in the front of my dress. There was no need to add anything further. A glance in the mirror revealed to me that the roses which lay near my heart matched in hue those which tinted my cheeks. For the time being I was beautiful—I was a picture, a walking picture out of long ago. I was glad to be the last to enter the drawing-room. I wanted to startle Mr Gray; to show him that he had presumed. I had no thought to give to any one else at that moment.
Chapter Twenty.
Like an Old Picture.
Tottie was right when she said that several young men were coming to dinner. They were all more or less at home however; they were accustomed to the house and its ways. I saw when I entered the drawing-room that I was the greatest stranger present. Captain Valentine and his brother were both in the room, but Lady Ursula Redmayne was not one of Mr Gray’s guests. I had thought to startle Mr Gray by the magnificence and quaintness of my toilet; but I must own that I forgot all about him when I glanced up and encountered an earnest, puzzled, respectful look from the wide-open eyes of my cousin Tom. Like a flash my mind reverted to a memory which a moment ago I had forgotten. I was back again in my room reading Cousin Geoffrey’s will. I blushed all over as the hateful remembrance of the conditions of that will filled my brain.