Mrs Hilliard’s fashionable acquaintances yawned when they received her cards, and exclaimed, “Another engagement for Thursday! We shall have to accept, I suppose, but it’s a dreadful nuisance! We can just look in for a quarter of an hour on our way to Lady Joan’s dance;” and unfashionable Sylvia pursed up her lips and remarked to herself, “Humph! I suppose she wants to dazzle me with the sight of her splendours. Much ‘pleasure’ my company will give her! I shall go, of course. I don’t think I could stay quietly at home and play cribbage, and know that Bridgie and the boys were driving away, and that I might have been with them. Yes, I’ll go, and I will get a new dress for the occasion—a beauty! Dad said I might be extravagant once in a way, without emptying the exchequer; and he would like me to look nice. Perhaps Bridgie will go to town with me and help me to choose. It is nice to have some excitement to look forward to. What with typhoid and—Jack,—this has been the dullest winter I ever knew.”
The advent of the Hilliards did indeed make a great difference to the two quiet households in Rutland Road. Esmeralda was too much occupied with her guests to pay many visits in person, but she appeared at intervals, leaning back against the cushions of the carriage, and looking like some wonderful princess out of a fairy-tale, and as far removed as possible from the good ladies of the neighbourhood.
The coachman would draw up before the door of Number Three, the footman would throw open the door, and Mistress Esmeralda would saunter up the little garden, dragging yards of chiffon and lace in her train, and acutely, delightfully conscious of the heads peering from behind the curtains on either side of the road. Acknowledged beauty as she was, her advent caused a greater sensation in this suburban district than among her own associates, and though she affected to despise its demonstrations, they were yet very dear to her vain little heart.
Sometimes the two sisters were spirited away to lunch or a drive in the Park, and on their return would adjourn into Number Six, and entertain Miss Munns and her niece with the story of their adventures. There was a party every single day at Park Lane—titled creatures, and “men who did things,” as Pixie eloquently explained, and Miss Munns recognised every name as it was repeated, and inquired anxiously concerning clothes, if the celebrity were of the female sex, concerning manner and choice of eatables, if he were a man.
Once, too, before the date of the formal invitation, Sylvia herself was invited to accompany her friend to an afternoon reception, when she beheld the fabled glories with her own eyes. Never before had she entered such a house, or met so distinguished a company, but not for worlds would she have allowed her surprise to be visible to Esmeralda’s eyes. The fashionable expression, she noticed, was one of bored superiority, so she looked bored and superior too, refused offers of refreshments which she was really longing to accept, and lounged from one room to another with an abstracted air, as if unconscious of her surroundings. All the same she felt very lonely and out of her depth, for Bridgie was helping her sister to receive her guests, and Pixie as usual roaming about in search of adventure.
It is very difficult to sit alone in a crowd and keep up an appearance of dignity, and Sylvia was grateful when a girl of her own age took possession of the chair by her side, and began to talk without waiting for the formality of an introduction. She was a pleasant-looking, much-freckled damsel, with a wholesome, out-of-door atmosphere, which distinguished her from the other ladies present, and she seemed for some reason quite interested in Sylvia Trevor.
All the time that they talked the honest blue eyes—studied the little clear-cut face of her companion, and though Sylvia was puzzled to account for the scrutiny, she was quite conscious of its presence, and anxious that the decision should be in her favour. She dropped her artificial airs and graces, and talked simply and naturally, asking questions about the different people present, and listening to the biographical sketches which were given in return, with much greater interest than was vouchsafed to her aunt’s more humble reminiscences.
It was so interesting to meet a celebrated author in flesh and blood, and find that she talked about the weather like any ordinary stupid person; a statesman in whose hands lay the destiny of a nation, yet could discuss with seriousness whether he should choose pink cakes or white. So extraordinary to discover that this gorgeously-attired lady was plain Mrs Somebody, while the funny, shabby-looking old woman in black was a celebrated Duchess, whose name was a household word.
Sylvia understood now why Esmeralda had been so anxious to place this guest in the most comfortable chair, and had waited on her with such assiduous care; she understood, too, why the Duchess herself wore an expression of patient resignation, and cast surreptitious glances at the clock. Poor creature, these so-called amusements were the business of her life, and one was so much like another that it was impossible to get up any feeling of interest, much less amusement. She yawned behind her glove, and vouchsafed the briefest of answers to her companions; it was abundantly evident, in short, that the Duchess was bored, and as this was the first time that she had honoured his house by a visit, Geoffrey was naturally anxious that this state of things should not continue. Esmeralda had done her utmost, but her airs and graces had failed to make any impression on one who had been acquainted with the beauties of the last fifty years, and there seemed no one present who possessed the requisite qualities to help him out of his difficulty. The Duchess was already acquainted with every visitor of note, and would not care to be introduced to insignificant nonentities.
Stay, though! What of the most insignificant of his guests? What of Pixie O’Shaughnessy, of the ready tongue, and the audacious self-confidence, which would flourish unchecked in the presence of kings and emperors? “Pixie for ever! Pixie to the rescue!” cried Geoffrey to himself, and promptly stole across to the room set apart for refreshments, where his small sister-in-law sat eating her fourth ice, waited upon with assiduous care by her friend Montgomery.