Clara gave firm orders, short and decisive. The best tradespeople were to be dealt with, the cooking was to be of the highest quality—dainty, recherché, agreeable to the palate.
The cook went down-stairs highly pleased, and then Clara proceeded to interview the rest of the servants. She acted her part to perfection—they were all pleased, inclined to be deferential. Even the butler was satisfied, and was disposed to think there was something in the footman’s words.
“Not that she’s a marchioness,” he said, when he was alone with that functionary; “but I don’t say she mightn’t have married a baronight when in a previous state.”
This admission was honey to the footman, who had been severely snubbed early in the morning, and everything was likely to go smoothly in Tarbot’s household.
Having arranged matters so far, Clara now went out. She told the footman to whistle for a hansom, and when it arrived she stepped into it with his aid.
She desired the cabby to drive her to a job-master’s. She saw the head of the establishment and asked him to send round for orders every morning and afternoon until she had purchased a carriage of her own. She looked at the different victorias and landaus which were for hire, selected two of the best, which she said she was willing to pay special terms for the use of, and then told the man to take the victoria round to 250 Harley Street, within an hour. She then returned home.
At the appointed time the victoria drew up at the door. Again the footman helped Mrs. Tarbot into her carriage, and threw a light fur rug over her knees. She desired the man to drive into Oxford Street, but after they had turned the corner she spoke to him again and told him that her real destination was Goodge Street.
Having arrived at her old quarters, she ordered the man to drive about for an hour and afterwards come back for her. She then ran up-stairs.
She was dressed from head to foot in black, for she had discovered that no other color suited her so well, no other style of dress brought out the best points in her figure or made the most of that dead-white complexion and that brilliant red-gold hair. She knocked at the door behind which she had so often sat and waited and longed for Tarbot.
Now she was his wife, his lawful wedded wife. She had taken possession of his house, of his riches—his position in society was hers, his name was hers. She possessed all of him except the part she most longed to secure—the man’s heart. Could she ever have that? She felt that it was beyond her purchase. She hated and she loved him for what he withheld: she hated him to the point of extreme pain, she loved him to the point of madness.