“It’s—it’s beautiful!” cried Mellicent ecstatically; while Peggy’s beauty-loving eye turned from one detail to another with delighted approbation. “Really,” she said to herself in astonishment, “I couldn’t have done it better myself! It’s quite admirable!” and as Rosalind’s face peered inquiringly at her beneath the canopy of flowers, she nodded her head, and smiled generous approval.
“Beautiful! Charming! I congratulate you! Did you design it and arrange everything yourself?”
“Mother and I made it up between us. We didn’t do the actual work, but we told the servants what to do, and saw that it was all right. The flowers and bonbons are easy enough to manage; it’s the things to eat that are the greatest trouble.”
“It seems to be too horribly prosaic to eat anything at such a table, except crumpled rose-leaves, like the princess in the fairy tale,” said Peggy gushingly; but at this Mellicent gave an exclamation of dismay, and the three big lads turned their eyes simultaneously towards the soup tureen, as if anxious to assure themselves that they were not to be put off with such ethereal rations.
The soup was pink. “Tomato!” murmured Peggy to herself, as she raised the first creamy spoonful to her lips. The fish was covered with thick pink sauce; tiny little cutlets lurked behind ruffles of pink paper; pink baskets held chicken soufflés; moulds of pink cream and whipped-up syllabubs were handed round in turns, and looked so tempting that Mellicent helped herself at once, and nearly shed tears of mortification on finding that they were followed by distracting pink ices, which were carried away again before she could possibly finish what was on her plate. Then came dessert-plates and finger-glasses, in which crystallised rose-leaves floated in the scented water, as if in fulfilment of Peggy’s suggestion of an hour before, and the young people sat in great contentment, eating rosy apples, bananas pared and dipped in pink sugar, or helping themselves to the delicious bonbons which were strewed about the table.
While they were thus occupied the door opened, and Lord Darcy came into the room. He had not appeared before, and he shook hands with the visitors in turn, and then stood at the head of the table looking about him with a slow, kindly smile. Peggy watched him from her seat, and thought what a nice face he had, and wondered at the indifferent manner in which he was received by his wife and daughter. Lady Darcy leant back in her chair and played with her fruit, the sleeves of her pink silk tea-gown falling back from her white arms. Rosalind whispered to Max, and neither of them troubled to cast so much as a glance of welcome at the new-comer. Peggy thought of her own father, the gallant soldier out in India, of the joy and pride with which his comings and goings were watched; of Mr Asplin in the vicarage, with his wife running to meet him, and Mellicent resting her curly bead on his shoulder; and the figure of the old lord standing unnoticed at the head of his own table assumed a pathetic interest. It seemed, however, as if Lord Darcy were accustomed to be overlooked, for he showed no signs of annoyance; on the contrary, his face brightened, and he looked at the pretty scene with sparkling eyes. The room was full of a soft rosy glow, the shimmer of silver and crystal was reflected in the sheet of mirror, and beneath the garlands of flowers the young faces of the guests glowed with pleasure and excitement. He looked from one to the other—handsome Max, dandy Oswald, Robert with his look of strength and decision; then to the girls—Esther, gravely smiling; wide-eyed Mellicent; Peggy, with her eloquent, sparkling eyes; Rosalind, a queen of beauty among them all; finally to the head of the table, where sat his wife.
“I must congratulate you, dear,” he said heartily. “It is the prettiest sight I have seen for a long time. You have arranged admirably, but that’s no new thing; you always do. I don’t know where you get your ideas. These wreaths—eh? I’ve never seen anything like them before. What made you think of fastening them up there?”
“I have had them like that several times before, but you never notice a thing until its novelty is over, and I am tired to death of seeing it,” said his wife, with a frown and an impatient curve of the lip, as if she had received a rebuke instead of a compliment.
Peggy stared at her plate, felt Robert shuffle on his chair by her side, and realised that he was as embarrassed and unhappy as herself. The beautiful room with its luxurious appointments seemed to have suddenly become oppressive and cheerless, for in it was the spirit of discontent and discord between those who should have been most in harmony. Esther was shocked, Mellicent frightened, the boys looked awkward and uncomfortable. No one ventured to break the silence, and there was quite a long pause before Lady Darcy spoke again in quick, irritable tones.
“Have you arranged to get away with me on Thursday, as I asked you?”