The inimitable toss of her head as she pronounced this praise of Mrs. Colonibel and the waggish roll of her eyes to the ceiling made Vivienne press her handkerchief to her lips to keep from laughter that she feared might reach Judy’s ears.
“I wish you could have seen her ladyship yesterday when she came to invite us to this dinner, me dear,” said Mrs. Macartney with a twisting of her mouth. “The boy at the hotel brought up her card—Mrs. Colonibel. ‘That’s the Lady Proudface,’ said I, and I went to the drawing room; and there she stood, and rushed at me like this——” and Mrs. Macartney rising from the sofa charged heavily across the room at an unoffending table which staggered on its legs at her onset.
Vivienne half started from her seat then fell back again laughing spasmodically. “Me dear,” said Mrs. Macartney looking over her shoulder at her, “she thought to make up by the warmth of her second greeting for the coldness of her first. She said she wanted us all to come and dine en famille, to celebrate the engagement, so I thought I’d tease her and talk French too; so I said, ‘Wouldn’t we be de trop? and you mustn’t suppose we belonged to the élite of the world, for we were plain people and didn’t care a rap for the opinion of the beau monde.’ You should have seen her face! And then I took pity on her and said we’d come. And come we did; and I’d give a kingdom if you could see Patrick and Geoffrey. They’re sitting beside Mrs. Colonibel, bowing and smirking at everything she says, and she’s thinking she’s mighty entertaining, and when we get home they’ll both growl and say they were bored to death, and why didn’t I tell them you weren’t to be present. Me dear, I didn’t dare to,” in a stage whisper, and looking over her shoulder. “They’d never have come.”
“Is Mrs. Colonibel not at all embarrassed with you?” said Vivienne. “She was not polite to you the other day, though of course it was on my account, not on yours.”
“Embarrassed, did you say, me dear?” replied Mrs. Macartney gayly. “Faith, there’s no such word in society. You must keep a bold front, whatever you do, or you’ll get the gossips after you. Dip your tongue in honey or gall, whichever you like, and hold your head high, and there’s no such thing as quailing before the face of mortal man or woman. Drop your head on your breast and go through the world, and you’ll have the fingers pointed at you. Me Lady Proudface is the woman to get on. If you’d seen the way she took the news of your engagement you’d have fallen at her feet in admiration.”
“She suppressed her disapproval,” said Vivienne.
“Disapproval, me child. ’Twas like salt to her eyeballs; but she never winked. Hasn’t she said anything to you about it?”
“No; we rarely have any conversations.”
“Ah, she’d have but a limited supply of compliments left after her flowery words to me. By the way, did you get the grand bouquet that Geoffrey sent to you?”
“Yes; it is over there by the window.”