XVIII
"BUT I can't think," said Ellie Vanderlyn earnestly, "why you don'tannounce your engagement before waiting for your divorce. People arebeginning to do it, I assure you--it's so much safer!"
Mrs. Vanderlyn, on the way back from St. Moritz to England, had pausedin Paris to renew the depleted wardrobe which, only two months earlier,had filled so many trunks to bursting. Other ladies, flocking therefrom all points of the globe for the same purpose, disputed with herthe Louis XVI suites of the Nouveau Luxe, the pink-candled tables inthe restaurant, the hours for trying-on at the dressmakers'; and justbecause they were so many, and all feverishly fighting to get the samethings at the same time, they were all excited, happy and at ease. Itwas the most momentous period of the year: the height of the "dressmakers' season."
Mrs. Vanderlyn had run across Susy Lansing at one of the Rue de la Paixopenings, where rows of ladies wan with heat and emotion sat for hoursin rapt attention while spectral apparitions in incredible raimenttottered endlessly past them on aching feet.
Distracted from the regal splendours of a chinchilla cloak by thesense that another lady was also examining it, Mrs. Vanderlyn turned insurprise at sight of Susy, whose head was critically bent above the fur.
"Susy! I'd no idea you were here! I saw in the papers that you were withthe Gillows." The customary embraces followed; then Mrs. Vanderlyn,her eyes pursuing the matchless cloak as it disappeared down a vista ofreceding mannequins, interrogated sharply: "Are you shopping for Ursula?If you mean to order that cloak for her I'd rather know."
Susy smiled, and paused a moment before answering. During the pauseshe took in all the exquisite details of Ellie Vanderlyn's perpetuallyyouthful person, from the plumed crown of her head to the perfect archof her patent-leather shoes. At last she said quietly: "No--to-day I'mshopping for myself."
"Yourself? Yourself?" Mrs. Vanderlyn echoed with a stare of incredulity.
"Yes; just for a change," Susy serenely acknowledged.
"But the cloak--I meant the chinchilla cloak... the one with the erminelining...."
"Yes; it is awfully good, isn't it? But I mean to look elsewhere beforeI decide."
Ah, how often she had heard her friends use that phrase; and how amusingit was, now, to see Ellie's amazement as she heard it tossed off inher own tone of contemptuous satiety! Susy was becoming more and moredependent on such diversions; without them her days, crowded as theywere, would nevertheless have dragged by heavily. But it still amusedher to go to the big dressmakers', watch the mannequins sweep by, andbe seen by her friends superciliously examining all the most expensivedresses in the procession. She knew the rumour was abroad that she andNick were to be divorced, and that Lord Altringham was "devoted" to her.She neither confirmed nor denied the report: she just let herself beluxuriously carried forward on its easy tide. But although it was nowthree months since Nick had left the Palazzo Vanderlyn she had not yetwritten to him--nor he to her.
Meanwhile, in spite of all that she packed into them, the days passedmore and more slowly, and the excitements she had counted on no longerexcited her. Strefford was hers: she knew that he would marry her assoon as she was free. They had been together at Ruan for ten days, andafter that she had motored south with him, stopping on the way to seeAltringham, from which, at the moment, his mourning relatives wereabsent.
At Altringham they had parted; and after one or two more visits inEngland she had come back to Paris, where he was now about to join her.After her few hours at Altringham she had understood that he would waitfor her as long as was necessary: the fear of the "other women" hadceased to trouble her. But, perhaps for that very reason, the futureseemed less exciting than she had expected. Sometimes she thought itwas the sight of that great house which had overwhelmed her: it wastoo vast, too venerable, too like a huge monument built of ancientterritorial traditions and obligations. Perhaps it had been lived in fortoo long by too many serious-minded and conscientious women: somehow shecould not picture it invaded by bridge and debts and adultery. And yetthat was what would have to be, of course... she could hardly pictureeither Strefford or herself continuing there the life of heavy countyresponsibilities, dull parties, laborious duties, weekly church-going,and presiding over local committees.... What a pity they couldn't sellit and have a little house on the Thames!
Nevertheless she was not sorry to let it be known that Altringham washers when she chose to take it. At times she wondered whether Nickknew... whether rumours had reached him. If they had, he had only hisown letter to thank for it. He had told her what course to pursue; andshe was pursuing it.
For a moment the meeting with Ellie Vanderlyn had been a shock to her;she had hoped never to see Ellie again. But now that they were actuallyface to face Susy perceived how dulled her sensibilities were. In afew moments she had grown used to Ellie, as she was growing used toeverybody and to everything in the old life she had returned to. Whatwas the use of making such a fuss about things? She and Mrs. Vanderlynleft the dress-maker's together, and after an absorbing session at a newmilliner's were now taking tea in Ellie's drawing-room at the NouveauLuxe.
Ellie, with her spoiled child's persistency, had come back to thequestion of the chinchilla cloak. It was the only one she had seen thatshe fancied in the very least, and as she hadn't a decent fur garmentleft to her name she was naturally in somewhat of a hurry... but, ofcourse, if Susy had been choosing that model for a friend....
Susy, leaning back against her cushions, examined through half-closedlids Mrs. Vanderlyn's small delicately-restored countenance, which worethe same expression of childish eagerness as when she discoursed of theyoung Davenant of the moment. Once again Susy remarked that, in Ellie'sagitated existence, every interest appeared to be on exactly the sameplane.
"The poor shivering dear," she answered laughing, "of course it shallhave its nice warm winter cloak, and I'll choose another one instead."
"Oh, you darling, you! If you would! Of course, whoever you wereordering it for need never know...."
"Ah, you can't comfort yourself with that, I'm afraid. I've already toldyou that I was ordering it for myself." Susy paused to savour to thefull Ellie's look of blank bewilderment; then her amusement was checkedby an indefinable change in her friend's expression.
"Oh, dearest--seriously? I didn't know there was someone...."
Susy flushed to the forehead. A horror of humiliation overwhelmed her.That Ellie should dare to think that of her--that anyone should dare to!
"Someone buying chinchilla cloaks for me? Thanks!" she flared out. "Isuppose I ought to be glad that the idea didn't immediately occur toyou. At least there was a decent interval of doubt...." She stood up,laughing again, and began to wander about the room. In the mirror abovethe mantel she caught sight of her flushed angry face, and of Mrs.Vanderlyn's disconcerted stare. She turned toward her friend.
"I suppose everybody else will think it if you do; so perhaps I'd betterexplain." She paused, and drew a quick breath. "Nick and I mean topart--have parted, in fact. He's decided that the whole thing was amistake. He will probably; marry again soon--and so shall I."
She flung the avowal out breathlessly, in her nervous dread of lettingEllie Vanderlyn think for an instant longer that any other explanationwas conceivable. She had not meant to be so explicit; but once the wordswere spoken she was not altogether sorry. Of course people would soonbegin to wonder why she was again straying about the world alone; andsince it was by Nick's choice, why should she not say so? Rememberingthe burning anguish of those last hours in Venice she asked herself whatpossible consideration she owed to the man who had so humbled her.
Ellie Vanderlyn glanced at her in astonishment. "You? You and Nick--aregoing to part?" A light appeared to dawn on her. "Ah--then that's why hesent me back my pin, I suppose?"
"Your pin?" Susy wondered, not at once remembering.
"The poor little scarf-pin I gave him before I left Venice. He sent itback almost at once, with the oddest note--just: 'I haven't earned it,reall
y.' I couldn't think why he didn't care for the pin. But, now Isuppose it was because you and he had quarrelled; though really, evenso, I can't see why he should bear me a grudge...."
Susy's quick blood surged up. Nick had sent back the pin-the fatal pin!And she, Susy, had kept the bracelet--locked it up out of sight, shrunkaway from the little packet whenever her hand touched it in packing orunpacking--but never thought of returning it, no, not once! Which of thetwo, she wondered, had been right? Was it not an indirect slight to herthat Nick should fling back the gift to poor uncomprehending Ellie? Orwas it not rather another proof of his finer moral sensitiveness!...And how could one tell, in their bewildering world, "It was not becausewe've quarrelled; we haven't quarrelled," she said slowly, moved by thesudden desire to defend her privacy and Nick's, to screen from everyeye their last bitter hour together. "We've simply decided that ourexperiment was impossible-for two paupers."
"Ah, well--of course we all felt that at the time. And now somebody elsewants to marry you! And it's your trousseau you were choosing that cloakfor?" Ellie cried in incredulous rapture; then she flung her arms aboutSusy's shrinking shoulders. "You lucky lucky girl! You clever cleverdarling! But who on earth can he be?"
And it was then that Susy, for the first time, had pronounced the nameof Lord Altringham.
"Streff--Streff? Our dear old Streff, You mean to say he wants to marryyou?" As the news took possession of her mind Ellie became dithyrambic."But, my dearest, what a miracle of luck! Of course I always knew hewas awfully gone on you: Fred Davenant used to say so, I remember... andeven Nelson, who's so stupid about such things, noticed it in Venice....But then it was so different. No one could possibly have thought ofmarrying him then; whereas now of course every woman is trying for him.Oh, Susy, whatever you do, don't miss your chance! You can't conceiveof the wicked plotting and intriguing there will be to get him--on allsides, and even where one least suspects it. You don't know what horrorswomen will do-and even girls!" A shudder ran through her at the thought,and she caught Susy's wrists in vehement fingers. "But I can't think,my dear, why you don't announce your engagement at once. People arebeginning to do it, I assure you--it's so much safer!"
Susy looked at her, wondering. Not a word of sympathy for the ruin ofher brief bliss, not even a gleam of curiosity as to its cause! Nodoubt Ellie Vanderlyn, like all Susy's other friends, had long since"discounted" the brevity of her dream, and perhaps planned a sequel toit before she herself had seen the glory fading. She and Nick had spentthe greater part of their few weeks together under Ellie Vanderlyn'sroof; but to Ellie, obviously, the fact meant no more than her ownescapade, at the same moment, with young Davenant's supplanter--the"bounder" whom Strefford had never named. Her one thought for her friendwas that Susy should at last secure her prize--her incredible prize. Andtherein at any rate Ellie showed the kind of cold disinterestedness thatraised her above the smiling perfidy of the majority of her kind. Atleast her advice was sincere; and perhaps it was wise. Why should Susynot let every one know that she meant to marry Strefford as soon as the"formalities" were fulfilled?
She did not immediately answer Mrs. Vanderlyn's question; and thelatter, repeating it, added impatiently: "I don't understand you; ifNick agrees-"
"Oh, he agrees," said Susy.
"Then what more do you want! Oh, Susy, if you'd only follow my example!"
"Your example?" Susy paused, weighed the word, was struck by somethingembarrassed, arch yet half-apologetic in her friend's expression. "Yourexample?" she repeated. "Why, Ellie, what on earth do you mean? Not thatyou're going to part from poor Nelson?"
Mrs. Vanderlyn met her reproachful gaze with a crystalline glance. "Idon't want to, heaven knows--poor dear Nelson! I assure you I simplyhate it. He's always such an angel to Clarissa... and then we're usedto each other. But what in the world am I to do? Algie's so rich, soappallingly rich, that I have to be perpetually on the watch to keepother women away from him--and it's too exhausting...."
"Algie?"
Mrs. Vanderlyn's lovely eyebrows rose. "Algie: Algie Bockheimer. Didn'tyou know, I think he said you've dined with his parents. Nobody else inthe world is as rich as the Bockheimers; and Algie's their onlychild. Yes, it was with him... with him I was so dreadfully happy lastspring... and now I'm in mortal terror of losing him. And I do assureyou there's no other way of keeping them, when they're as hideously richas that!"
Susy rose to her feet. A little shudder ran over her. She remembered,now, having seen Algie Bockheimer at one of his parents' firstentertainments, in their newly-inaugurated marble halls in Fifth Avenue.She recalled his too faultless clothes and his small glossy furtivecountenance. She looked at Ellie Vanderlyn with sudden scorn.
"I think you're abominable," she exclaimed.
The other's perfect little face collapsed. "A-bo-minable? A-bo-mi-nable?Susy!"
"Yes... with Nelson... and Clarissa... and your past together... and allthe money you can possibly want... and that man! Abominable."
Ellie stood up trembling: she was not used to scenes, and theydisarranged her thoughts as much as her complexion.
"You're very cruel, Susy--so cruel and dreadful that I hardly know howto answer you," she stammered. "But you simply don't know what you'retalking about. As if anybody ever had all the money they wanted!" Shewiped her dark-rimmed eyes with a cautious handkerchief, glanced atherself in the mirror, and added magnanimously: "But I shall try toforget what you've said."