Punctually at half-past one—the clock was striking—Lady Currey arrived. Mrs. Iverson was not down yet, but she was never punctual, except when her clock was fast. Claudia had to receive Gilbert’s mother.
She wanted to like her, but her heart sank a little at Lady Currey’s formal greeting. Sometimes she had hoped—before she had considered Gilbert in the light of a possible husband—that when she married, her husband’s mother might be someone to whom she could, and would be allowed to, feel daughterly. She knew it was rare, but she would meet a nice mother-in-law more than half way, for there was no holy of holies occupied by a real mother. One could ask Mrs. Iverson’s advice on dress—not too often, because it bored her to give advice on any subject—but Claudia felt she had room in her heart for a nice cosy elderly woman, who might be a guide, philosopher and friend.
“Mother will be down directly,” said Claudia, with a heightened colour. “Will you not take this chair? It is more comfortable than that one.”
“Thank you, but I do not care for those low, padded chairs. They induce habits of indulgence. I was brought up to sit on hard, straight-backed chairs, so I never acquired the habit of lolling.”
She looked critically round the drawing-room, which was full of graceful and beautiful things. At one end, looking down insolently upon her, was the famous Circe picture. It dominated the whole room. The only other pictures were landscapes, a couple of Olssons, an exquisite Whistler, which the artist had himself given to Mrs. Iverson, a Sisley and a small Cézanne. But they were all subservient to the glowing Circe in her wonderful clinging blue robes. The whole room had apparently been designed as a frame for the portrait, for it was a harmony of dull blues and faded pinks. A case of miniatures at her elbow contained some exquisite Cosway beauties and some rare scraps of old Venetian goldsmiths’ work. Lady Currey caught sight of a Vernis Martin cabinet full of priceless Sèvres and some Chelsea figures that made the collector’s mouth water. It was annoying to think that Sybil owned such china, for Lady Currey was sure she did not value it.
“You have some beautiful pieces here,” she said to Claudia, crossing to look at the cabinet.
“Yes, I believe they are considered very fine. I am afraid I don’t know much about china myself.” If Claudia had only known it, her last chance was gone. Lady Currey’s eyebrows went up in contempt. But the china was exquisite and avenged Claudia’s slip.
Lady Currey turned away and glanced at the clock. Twenty to two! Where was her hostess?
The door opened, but it was only Patricia with Billie at her heels. “Billie was crying for you, Claudia. I let him loose. I thought you had forgotten him.”