“All the rooms are full. I’ve given up trying to change things now, but they irritate me all the same. When I’ve been out all the day at meetings and guilds, it would be a rest to come home to a pretty room. I look at those maroon curtains, and this hideous patterny carpet, and feel all nervy and on edge; then Jacky thinks I am tired, and brings me hot milk.” She opened her speedwell blue eyes to their fullest width, and stared at me dolefully. “Oh, Miss Wastneys, it is so strenuous to have to live up to an ideal!”
“It would be still more strenuous to—fall short,” I said curtly, and she gave a start of dismay.
“Oh, goodness, yes! Anything rather than that! I wouldn’t for the world have Jacky find me out.”
I felt like an aged grandam admonishing a silly child. Of course in the long run he was bound to find out, for Delphine’s discontent was obviously increasing, and the hour was at hand when her self-control would come to a sudden and violent end. Then there would be hasty words and recriminations, the memory of which no after remorse could wipe away. I was sure of it, and said so plainly, qualifying my prophecy with a big “unless.”
“Unless you can make up your mind to be honest now, and tell your husband the whole truth. There is nothing to be ashamed of in being young and needing variety in life. Tell him frankly that too much parish gets on your nerves, and that you could do your work better if you went away for a few weeks every three or four months. There must be friends whom you could visit, and who would be glad to have you. After a change of scene and occupation you would come home braced and refreshed, and ready to make a fresh start. And you might speak about the room at the same time. You need not suggest selling any furniture, but just storing some of it away in an attic or cellar, so that you could have a little boudoir of your own. Do be sensible, and tell him to-night. He loves you. He wants you to be happy. He would understand.”
She shook her head.
“No. He would be kind and patient. He would agree at once, and never say a word of reproach, but—he wouldn’t understand. That’s just it. His whole idea of me would be shocked out of existence. He would be disappointed to the bottom of his soul. I—I can’t do it, Miss Wastneys; but it’s been a relief to grumble to you. Thank you for letting me do it. Things have been just a little better since you and Mrs Fane came to ‘Pastimes’. I haven’t seen much of you, of course, but I have enjoyed watching you. You wear such lovely clothes, and you are young and interesting. Most of the people are so dull and settled down. I wish you would call me ‘Delphine,’ and come to see me as often as you can. Just run in any time you are passing, and let me come to you in the same way. I’ve been so bored. Well, never mind,” she brightened suddenly; “the fête will be a little excitement. I am looking forward to that.”
An idea flashed into my head. I was sorry for the girl, and intensely, forebodingly sorry for her husband. If one could help to avert the threatened tragedy.
“I am just wondering,” I began tentatively. “Of course I can make no definite offer without consulting Mrs Fane, but—would you like it if we lent our grounds for the fête? The extra space might be an advantage, and we could save you trouble by arranging for the tents and refreshments, and perhaps organise some little stall on our own account.”
I really thought that might save a good deal of expense, and so add to the profit of the afternoon, and also that with our wider experience we might run the fête on more advanced lines, and so give her, as well as the rest of the parish, a more amusing time; but to my disappointment she flushed, and looked far from pleased.