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“And you’re too young and too obstinate to go and beg his forgiveness!”
“Indeed I am! Fancy my meekly returning, like a prodigal daughter, when I haven’t done anything wrong!”
“You don’t deserve a reconciliation,” cried Patty; “you’re a hard-hearted little thing,—for all you look so soft and amiable.”
“Yes,” said Lady Kitty, demurely; “I inherited my father’s disposition.”
“Indeed, you did; and you’ll grow more like him every day you live, if you don’t try to be more forgiving.”
“I believe you’re right, Patty; and perhaps some day I will try. But now let me tell you what’s been happening. While you were away, I had a call from that very charming stepmother of yours. And this was the burden of her visit. It seems that she and your father are invited to spend the week-end at a country house, and the question was, where to pack you away for safe-keeping while they’re gone.”
“And they’re going to let me stay with you!” exclaimed Patty, clasping her hands and assuming an ecstatically happy expression.
“Well, Mrs. Nan seemed to think that I could keep you in order, though I’m not so sure of it myself. But the strange part is, I also am invited for this same week-end to a most delightful country house, and I have already accepted.”
Patty’s face fell.
“What is to become of poor little me?” she said. “I don’t want to stay with Mrs. Betham.”
“No; I’ve a plan for you. And it’s this. I want to take you with me to Herenden Hall, where I’m going, and,—Mrs. Nan says I may.”
“Oh, Kitty! You duck! How perfectly lovely!” Patty flew at her friend, and nearly strangled her in a spasmodic embrace.
“You see,” went on Lady Hamilton, when she had regained her breath, “I’m so well acquainted with the Herendens, that I can ask an invitation for you; and though you’re not really ‘out’ yet, it will give you a glimpse of the nicest kind of English country-house life.”
“It’s great!” declared Patty. “I’m wild with excitement. But I care more about being with you than I do about the house-party.”
“You won’t when you get there. They’re really charming people, and the Hall is one of the finest old estates in England.”
“Shall I have to have some new frocks?”
“We’ll look over your wardrobe, and see. I fancy the ones you already have will do. You know you’ll be looked upon as scarcely more than a schoolgirl, and you must wear simple, frilly muslins and broad-leafed hats.”
“I can even live through that! I don’t care what I wear if I’m with you. Three whole days! Will it be three days, Kitty?”
“Three days or more. If they politely ask us to remain a day or two longer we might do so. They’re old friends of mine, do you see? And I haven’t been there for years, so they’ll be glad to see us.”
“To see you, you mean. They don’t know me, so how can they be glad to see me?”
“Oh, you must,—what is your idiotic American phrase? You must ‘make good’!”
“I will,” said Patty, laughing to hear the phrase from an Englishwoman, and then she ran away to her own apartment, to talk over affairs with Nan.
“It’s a great piece of good fortune,” said Nan, “that you’re such good friends with Lady Hamilton, for Fred and I couldn’t take you with us, and what would have become of you?”
“Oh, I always land on my feet,” returned Patty, “I must have been born under a lucky star.”
“I believe you were, Pattykins.”
“And won’t I have the time of my life at Herenden Hall–”
“Oh, Patty, Patty, you must stop using slang. They’ll never ask you to Herenden Hall again if you behave like a wild Indian.”
“But you see, Stepmother, they look upon me as an infant anyhow, so I may as well have some fun.”
“But don’t be a hoyden, and do remember that American slang isn’t admired over here.”
“Yas’m; I’ll be good. And I’ll say ‘Really?’ and ‘Only fancy!’ till they’ll think I’m the daughter of a hundred Earls.”
“I’m not at all worried about your manners,” said Nan, serenely. “You usually behave pretty well, but you will talk American instead of English.”
“Well, I’ll try to make myself understood, at all events. And you’re going to have a lovely time, too, aren’t you? Isn’t it fun! I do like to have all my friends as happy as I am. I suppose you and father will be like two young turtle-doves off on your honeymoon trip.”
“Oh, we’re always that, even when there’s a great, big girl like you around to make us seem old.”
“Well, if you behave as well as you look, I won’t be ashamed of you.” Patty gazed critically at Nan, and then added, “Though your nose does seem to turn up more than it used to.”
Whereupon Nan threw a sofa-pillow at her, which Patty caught and stuffed behind her own curly head.
The Saturday of their departure was a beautiful, bright day, and it was about noon when Patty and Lady Hamilton, accompanied by the latter’s maid, took the train from Victoria Station.
It was a long ride to their destination in Kent, and not an especially interesting one, but Patty, in the companionship of her dear friend, was entirely happy. They chatted gaily as the train rolled from one English town to another. At Robertsbridge they had to change to a funny little railroad, which had the strangest cars Patty had ever seen.
They were almost like freight cars, with benches along the sides. There were no tickets, and presently the guard came in to collect their fares, as if in a street-car.
Moreover the luggage had been tumbled in without check or paster, and Patty wondered if anybody ever could pick out their own again.
“Your regular first-class coaches are funny enough,” she said to Lady Hamilton, “but they are comfortable. This box we’re in is like a cattle pen.”
“Oh, no,” laughed Lady Hamilton; “this isn’t bad at all. You see it’s only a tiny branch road, running to some little hamlets, and it’s not much used. There are only about two trains each way every day.”
This gave Patty a different idea of the little railroad, and she began to feel a more personal interest in it. They rolled slowly through the hop-growing country, and though the scenery was not grand, it was picturesque. Patty said it was like a panorama of “The Angelus.” They reached their station at about five o’clock, and found a fine open barouche awaiting them, and a wagon for their trunks.
The footman greeted them deferentially, and asked them to pick out their luggage from the lot that had been dumped on the station platform.
“I can’t see either of my trunks,” said Patty. “So I suppose I’d better take the ones I like best of these others.”
“Nonsense,” said Lady Hamilton; “yours must be here somewhere. Look around, Marie; you know Miss Fairfield’s boxes.”
“Yes, my Lady; but they are not here.”
Sure enough, they weren’t there, and as Patty was certain they had been put on the train, she concluded they had been carried on.
“What can I do?” she cried. “Can we telephone to the next station and have them sent back?”
But in that small station, merely a tiny box, there was no telephone.
The impassive coachman and footman from Herenden Hall seemed to have no advice to offer, so there was nothing to do but to proceed to the house.
Patty was distressed at the outlook.
“Oh, Kitty,” she said; “I can’t go to dinner at all! Of course I couldn’t appear in this travelling costume, and I’ll have to put on one of your négligées, and eat dinner all alone in my room!”
The prospect was appalling, but neither of them could think of any help for it.
“Has Lady Herenden any daughters about my age?” Patty asked, after a few moments’ thought.
“No, indeed. She and Lord Herenden have no children. But if there are any young girls there as guests, you might borrow a frock for to-night. Surely they’ll get your things by to-morrow.”
They drove into the park, through great gates, and past various lodges. The wonderful old trees waved above their heads; the marvellous lawns stretched away in rolling slopes; and the well-kept road wound along, now over a bridge, now under an arch until they paused at the noble old entrance of Herenden Hall.
Liveried servants seemed to appear, as if by magic, from all directions at once. Dogs came, barking a noisy welcome, and, following Lady Hamilton across the terrace and into the great entrance hall, Patty found herself being presented to a lovely young woman, almost as beautiful as Lady Hamilton herself.
“You must be the greatest chums,” Lady Hamilton was saying, “for Miss Fairfield is one of my dearest friends, and I want you to adore each other.”
“We will!” said Lady Herenden and Patty, at the same moment, and then they all laughed, and the guests were at once shown to their rooms.
After a bewildering route through several branching halls, Patty found that to her had been assigned a large and pleasant room, which looked out upon the rose-garden. On one side it communicated with Lady Hamilton’s room, and on the other opened into a dainty dressing-room and bath. It was all enchanting, and Patty’s gaze rested admiringly upon the chintz draperies and Dresden ornaments, when she heard a tap at her door. Answering, she found a trim maid, who courtesied and said: “I’m Susan, Miss. Will you give me the keys of your boxes, and I’ll unpack them.”
Patty almost laughed at this casual request, in the face of what seemed to her a tragedy.
“Susan,” she said, “here are the keys, but you can’t unpack my boxes for they haven’t come.”
“Lor’, Miss; they must be downstairs. I’ll have them sent up.”
“No—wait, Susan; they’re not downstairs. They didn’t come on the train.”
“Lor’, Miss, whatever will you do?”
The girl’s eyes grew big and troubled. Here was a dreadful situation indeed! Already Susan felt drawn toward the pretty young American girl, and she was aghast at the outlook of a dinner party with no party frock.
“I can’t go to dinner at all, Susan,” said Patty, dejectedly. “You must bring me a tray up here—though I don’t feel like eating.”
“Not go to dinner, Miss? Oh, what a pity! It’s a grand dinner to-night. The Earl of Ruthven is here, and it’s one of her ladyship’s greatest dinners of the season.”
The good Susan looked so concerned, and her face was so anxious, that it went straight to Patty’s heart. To her mind there came a vivid and tantalising remembrance of her exquisite dinner frock, of white chiffon, embroidered with tiny sprays of blossoms—a soft sash and shoulder-knots—one of the loveliest dresses she had ever had, and with a sob she threw herself on to the couch and indulged in a few foolish but comforting tears.
“There, there, Miss,” said Susan, sympathisingly, “don’t ee take on so. Maybe we can find summat for ee.”
When Susan was excited or troubled, she lapsed into her old dialect, which she was striving to outgrow.
“You can’t find anything, I know,” said Patty, sitting up, and looking the picture of woe. “There are no very young ladies in the house, are there, Susan?”
“No, Miss, none so young as yourself, nor near it.”
“And I can’t wear this,” went on Patty, looking at the silk blouse that was part of her travelling gown.
“Lor’ no, Miss; not to a dinner!”
“Then what?”
“Then what, indeed, Miss!”
Patty and Susan faced each other, at last in a full realisation of the hopelessness of the situation, when, after a light tap at the door, Lady Hamilton came in.
She laughed outright at the tragic attitude of the two, and knew at once what they were troubled about.
“Listen to me, Pattypet,” she said. “Am I your fairy godmother, or am I not?”
“You are,” said Patty, with an air of conviction, and feeling sure that Lady Hamilton was about to help her out of her troubles, somehow.
“Well, I’ve carefully considered the case. I’ve sent Marie to canvass the house for clothes suitable for a mademoiselle of seventeen.”
“Nearly eighteen,” murmured Patty.
“It doesn’t matter. There isn’t what’s known as a ‘misses’ costume’ beneath this roof. Now, I simply refuse to let you be absent from this dinner. It will be both a pleasure and an education to you to see this especial kind of a formal function, and probably you’ll not often have a chance. They’ve sent a man and a wagon over to the next station, several miles away for your boxes; that’s the way they do things here. But he can’t get back until long after the dinner hour. So listen, to my command, dictum, fiat—call it what you please, but this is what you’re to do.”
“I’ll do anything you say, Kitty Lady, if it’s to go to bed at once, and sleep soundly till morning.”
“Nothing of the sort. You must and shall attend this dinner. And—you’re going to wear one of my gowns!”
“Yours?”
“Yes. We’re so nearly the same size that it will fit you quite well enough. I’ve picked out the simplest one, a white Irish point. It’s cut princess, but all my gowns are. I’m sure Marie can make it fit you perfectly, with a few pins or a stitch here and there.”
“Oh, it will fit well enough, but, Kitty, won’t I be the grown-up! I’ve never worn a real train in my life!”
“Of course it’s a lot too old for you, and truly, I hate to have you appear in a gown like that. But what else can we do? I won’t let you miss the dinner—and after all, it doesn’t matter so much. After this visit I doubt if you’ll ever see these people again, and let them think you’re five or six years older than you are. Who cares?”
“I don’t,” said Patty, gleefully. “I think it will be fun. I’ll have my hair piled high on my head. Can you do it for me, Sarah?”
“Oh, yes, Miss. I’m a hair-dresser and I’m that glad you’re going to dinner.”
CHAPTER VII
FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY
Sarah was indeed an expert hair-dresser, and she piled up Patty’s hair in soft coils, and twisted the curly tendrils into fluffy puffs, and though the result was beautiful, it made Patty look like her own older sister. A jewelled ornament of Lady Hamilton’s crowned the coiffure, and this gave an added effect of dignity. The lace gown was easily made to fit its new wearer. Marie pinned it, and sewed it, and patted it into place, till nobody would suspect it had not been made for Patty. But the long lines of the Princess pattern took away all of Patty’s usual simple girlish appearance, and transformed her at once into a beautiful, queenly young woman. The décolletée corsage, and the sleeves, which were merely frills of lace, were very becoming; and the long train, which billowed into a frou-frou of chiffon ruffles took away the last semblance of a girl of eighteen. Notwithstanding her softly-curved cheeks and throat, and her exquisite, fresh complexion, Patty looked quite the young woman of society and could easily have been adjudged about twenty-four years old.
Her eyes danced, as she walked sedately through the open door and into Lady Hamilton’s room.
“My word, Patty!” exclaimed that lady, “you’re simply stunning in that gown! You look as if you’d been ‘out’ for two or three seasons. Your people would never forgive me if they knew how I’ve dressed you up.”
“It was the only thing to do,” said Patty, airily, as she began to draw on her arms a pair of Lady Hamilton’s long white gloves. “The wonder is that you had plenty of all sorts of things to fit me out, and also that they do fit so well. These gloves are just right, though I confess the slippers pinch me just a speck.”
“‘Pretty never hurts,’ you know,” said Lady Hamilton, laughing. “Marie, isn’t Miss Fairfield a picture?”
“Mais oui! She is charmante. It is amazing how the gown suits her. She is très-belle!”
With the grown-up clothes, Patty had quite unconsciously assumed a grown-up air. She nonchalantly flung aside her train with just the same gesture Lady Hamilton was wont to use, and she carried herself with a dignity and graciousness of manner which would have been absurd when wearing her own simple frocks.
“Gracious, goodness, child!” cried Lady Hamilton. “Come down off that pedestal! You walk like a Duchess. It won’t do, you know, really.”
“I don’t mean to,” said Patty; “you know I’m a sort of chameleon. This gown makes me feel as if I belonged in an opera-box, or had an audience with the Queen.”
“Oh, you goose! Stop your nonsense, and we’ll go down to dinner. Mind, now, none of those airs, or I’ll send you back to your room.”
Patty honestly tried to be her own simple-minded self, and would have succeeded all right, if Herenden Hall had not been so lavishly provided with mirrors. On the grand staircase she came face to face with a radiant creature, and was about to step aside when she discovered it was herself! Involuntarily she gazed at the reflection of the white-gowned lady, and unconsciously an air of serenity, almost hauteur, replaced her usual merry smile, and with a gracious mien she passed on down the stairs.
Lady Herenden awaited them in the drawing-room.
A brilliant assemblage was already there, for Patty’s unusual costuming had caused her some delay. After the first few introductions, Lady Hamilton and Patty became separated, and the guests stood about conversing in small groups.
Patty chanced to fall in with some very entertaining people, among whom was the Earl of Ruthven.
The Earl was a handsome man, tall, and of an imposing presence.
When presented to Patty, he gazed at her with frank, though quite deferential admiration. “So pleased to meet you, Miss Fairfield,” he said; “I adore American ladies.”
Patty really felt a little in awe of an Earl, as she had never met one before, and was about to make a shy response, when a slight movement of her head showed her her own reflection in a nearby mirror.
Realising afresh that she was masquerading as a society lady, a spirit of mischief suddenly took possession of her, and she determined to throw herself into the rôle. So, with a pretty little toss of her head, and a charming smile, she said:
“Thank you, Lord Ruthven; I adore Englishmen, too, but I know so few of them.”
“You’ve not been here long, then?”
“No, only a few weeks. And there’s so much I want to learn.”
“Let me teach you,” said his Lordship, eagerly. “I do not think you would prove a dull pupil.”
Patty’s eyes smiled. “No Americans are dull,” she said.
“That’s true; my experience has already proved it. I’ve met six, I think, including yourself. But what sort of things do you want to learn?”
“The language, principally. I just want to learn to say ‘only fancy’ occasionally, and ‘d’y’ see?’ in the middle of every sentence.”
“It’s not easy,” said Lord Ruthven, thoughtfully, “but I think I can teach you in, say, about ten lessons. When shall we begin the course?”
Patty looked at him reproachfully. “If you knew the American nature at all,” she said, “you’d know that we always begin things the moment the plan occurs to us.”
“Good! there’s no time like the present.”
But just then their conversation was interrupted by the announcement of dinner.
Patty hoped she would sit at table next the Earl, but it was not so. The nobleman was accorded the seat of honour at the right of his hostess, while Patty, as a minor guest, was far away across the table. But she found herself between two affable and pleasant-mannered young Englishmen, and instantly forgot all about her titled friend.
Indeed, the bewildering beauty of the scene claimed her attention, and she fairly held her breath as she looked about her. The great oval room was lighted only by wax candles in crystal chandeliers and candelabra. This made a soft, mellow radiance quite different from gas or electricity. On one side of the room long French windows opened on to the terrace, through which came the scent of roses and the sound of plashing fountains. On the other side, only slender pillars and arches divided the dining-room from a conservatory, and a riotous tangle of blossoms and foliage fairly spilled into the room, forming almost a cascade of flowers.
The great round table was a bewildering array of gold plate, gilded glass, and exquisite china, while on the delicate lace of the tablecloth lay rare blossoms that seemed to have drifted from the circular mound of flowers which formed the low centrepiece.
Twenty-four guests sat round the board, in chairs of gilded wicker, and as the silent, black-garbed waiters served the viands, the scene became as animated as it was beautiful.
Patty forgot all else in her absolute enjoyment of the fairy-like spectacle, and was only brought back to a sense of reality by the sound of a voice at her side. Mr. Merivale was speaking—the young man who had escorted her out to dinner, and who now sat at her right hand.
“You love beauty of detail,” he was saying as he noted Patty’s absorption.
“Oh, isn’t it great!” she exclaimed, and then suddenly realised that the expression was not at all in keeping with the dignity of her Princess gown.
But Mr. Merivale seemed amused rather than shocked.
“That’s American for ‘ripping,’ isn’t it?” he said, smiling. “But whatever the adjective, the fact is the same. Lady Herenden’s dinners are always the refinement of the spectacular.”
Patty realised the appropriateness of this phrase, and cudgelled her brain for an appropriate reply. She began to think that playing grown-up was a more difficult game than she had supposed. Had she had on her own simple little frock, Mr. Merivale would not have talked to her like that.
“Don’t you remember last season,” he went on, “when Lady Herenden had a real pond, with gold fish in the middle of the table, and ferns and water lilies round the edge?”
“I wasn’t here last season,” said Patty. “I have never been in England until this summer.”
“Indeed? I know you are an American, but you have really an English manner.”
“It’s acquired,” said Patty, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “I find my American manner isn’t admired over here, so I assume London airs.”
“Ah, you wish to be admired?”
“Of all things!” declared naughty Patty, with a roguish glance at the jesting young man.
“You’ll probably get your wish,” he replied. “I’m jolly well ready to do my share.”
This brought the colour to Patty’s cheeks, and she turned slightly away, toward the man on her other side.
He was a slightly older man than Mr. Merivale and was the squire of an adjoining estate. He was quite ready to talk to his American neighbour, and began the conversation by asking her if she had yet seen Lady Herenden’s rose-orchard.
“No, Mr. Snowden,” said Patty, “I only arrived a few hours ago, and I’ve not been round the place at all.”
“Then let me show it to you, please. I’ll come over to-morrow morning for a stroll. May I?”
“I don’t know,” said Patty, hesitatingly, for she was uncertain what she ought to do in the matter. “You see, I’m with Lady Hamilton, and whatever she says–”
“Oh, nonsense! She’ll spare you from her side for an hour or two. There’s really a lot to see.”
Again poor Patty realised her anomalous position. But for her piled-up hair and her trained gown, the man would never have dreamed of asking her to go for a walk unchaperoned. Patty had learned the ethics of London etiquette for girls of eighteen, but she was not versed in the ways of older young women.
“We’ll see about it,” she said, non-committally, and then she almost laughed outright at the sudden thought of Mr. Snowden’s surprise should he see her next day in one of her own simple morning frocks of light muslin. Lady Hamilton’s morning gowns were Paris affairs, with trailing frills and long knotted ribbons.
“It seems to amuse you,” said Mr. Snowden, a trifle piqued at her merriment.
“You’ll be amused, too,” she said, “if you see me to-morrow.”
Then something in the man’s pleasant face seemed to invite confidence, and she said, impulsively:
“I may as well tell you that I’m masquerading. I’m not a grown-up lady at all. I’m not much more than a schoolgirl—not quite eighteen years old. But—but my box didn’t come, and—and I had to wear Lady Hamilton’s gown. It makes me seem a lot older, I know, but I had to do it, or stay away from dinner.”
Mr. Snowden looked first amazed, and then he burst into laughter.
“I beg your pardon, I’m sure,” he said, “but I had no idea! And so Lady Hamilton is your chaperon? I see. Of course. Well, we’ll have the stroll just the same, if you will, and we’ll ask her to go with us.”
“Isn’t she the dearest thing?” exclaimed Patty, looking at Lady Kitty across the table, and feeling much more at her ease now that she had confessed her position.