I met Mrs. Surdan on one of my committees during the war. When my niece Phyllida was working at that hospital, she befriended the girl—Hilda—; and Mrs. Surdan made this an excuse for introducing herself. I recognized her at once as one of the nameless, efficient women who impose their wills on a committee; earnest and hard-working, but occasionally rather difficult, with their assurance and massed information. One feels that there is no subject on which they will not put one right if one has the temerity to open one's mouth. Judge of my surprise when Mrs. Surdan wrote that she would like to come and ask my advice. My advice!
"This is your lucky day," said Will, when I shewed him the letter. "Perhaps they want a house in London for the season."
Until that moment I had thought of telling this Mrs. Surdan I was so busy that we must really postpone our meeting. Will's quick brain warned me to do nothing hasty. I don't know, whether you remember the condition of Mount Street; we had not touched the house, inside or out, since the beginning of the war; and, whenever I spoke to my husband, he put his hands in his pockets and said: "Will you please tell me where the money's coming from?" I'm not going to burden you with my own sordid cares; but we are not well-off, and, what with taxation and the rise in prices, Mount Street is rather a responsibility. I retain it because it is my frame and setting; any little niche that I may occupy is in Mount Street; and, when I part with the house, you may feel that I have indeed abdicated. This morning my tea was brought me on the tray that the princess gave me as a wedding-present. But you know: the house is a museum of memories... But it is a responsibility. Arthur's directorships are good so far as they go, but he says there is a reaction against what he calls "figure-head directors". Will is not yet earning anything; and I was cruelly disappointed by Sir Adolphus Erskine when I approached him for an appointment... So our income is not increasing, and the cost of living is...
I told Mrs. Surdan that I should be delighted to see her at any time. Arthur saw at once the desirability of considering a good offer...
"She can have this place for the season," he said, "or for eternity. With the plate and linen. And the servants. And Will, if she'll take him."
When Arthur speaks like that, I never argue with him. It is curious—one has seen the same thing a thousand times between mothers and daughters, but men always pride themselves on being unpetty—; Arthur is really jealous of his own son. If Will and he are left together for any time, Arthur becomes a different man, querulous, impossible to please. With his directorships and his clubs and his journeys to and fro, my husband—as you must have seen—does not give me very much of his society; I am left to support the burden of domestic empire single-handed, but, when Will is at home, I am glad for Arthur to be away. When our boy applied for a commission, all that Arthur would say was, why hadn't he applied for it before? When he joined the staff, why hadn't he refused to join the staff? When he left it, why hadn't he stayed there? Picking a quarrel... If only I could find him some suitable employment! But when a man like Erskine or Erckmann or whatever his name is... A broken reed, a mere "climber" who hoped to use me for securing an invitation to Cheniston and the delectable friendship of my brother-in-law Spenworth... I have lost the thread...
Ah, yes! For all its shabbiness, the dear old house looked more than attractive when Mrs. Surdan arrived for dinner. Just the two of us... I always think tea is such an inhospitable meal, and luncheon is hardly practicable when every gleam of sunlight shews you something more to be patched and painted... As a matter of fact I might have spared my pains, for she was not interested in the house.
"Now, Lady Ann," she said, with the brisk, efficient manner which always rather puts me on my guard. "Let's come to business. I want your advice. My husband has closed down his department and is going north immediately. I shall go with him, of course, and I want to know what you would advise me to do with Hilda. After all the work she's done in hospital I should like her to have a few months' complete holiday and to enjoy herself, but obviously I want to entrust her to some one who will look after her. Hilda is a thoroughly sensible girl, but London is a big place, and I suppose there is no harm in saying that she is very attractive and will have a good deal of money later on. You know far better than I do the importance of her meeting the right people. What do you suggest?"
Now, do you know, I felt so certain what she wanted me to suggest that it was on the tip of my tongue to read her one of those abominable advertisements in the morning papers: "A Lady of Title is willing to chaperon a young girl; introductions..." and so forth and so on. People putting any position they may have up to auction! Are you surprised that London is what it is? I have always wondered, when I see the really and truly inexplicable young women with whom Connie Maitland is liée from time to time, whether she augments her income in this way. Otherwise I fail to understand how she keeps on that great house in Eaton Place and entertains as she does. But that is her business... If Mrs. Surdan had dared to propose such a thing, I really think I should have asked her to leave the house...
"Surely," I said, "you are the best person to look after Hilda. I go out very little; but, so far as I can judge, there is never any difficulty about getting to know people in London. If you were to take a house in some good neighbourhood and entertain a certain amount—"