The Rustle of Silk
Can't you understand how awkward it would be to have you in the house on
a level with servants who have to be kept in order by me? It would
undermine my authority." That was the point, and it was a good one. And
then her starchiness left her under the horror of the alternative. "As
for that other thing,--well, you couldn't go a better way to kill your
poor mother and surely you don't want to do that?"
"Of course I don't, Auntie."
"There's no call for you to think about any way of earning a living,
Lola. Your parents don't want to get rid of you, Heaven knows, and even
in these bad times they can get along very nicely and keep you too. You
know that."
Lola had never dreamed of this adamantine attitude. Her aunt had been so
easy to manage before. What was she to do?
Thinking that she was winning, Miss Breezy went at it again. "Come, now.
Be a good child and forget both these schemes. Go on with your classes
and it won't be long before a suitable person will turn up and ask you
to marry him. Your type marries young. Now, will you promise me to think
no more about it all?"
But this was Lola's only chance to enter the first stage of her crusade.
She would fight for it to the last gasp. "The chorus, yes," she said.
"As for the other thing, no, Auntie. If you won't help me I must get the
paper in the morning and search through the advertisements. I'm sure to
come across some one who wants a lady's maid and after all, it won't
very much matter who it is. You see, I want to earn my living, and I
have made up my mind to do it in this way. There's good pay, a beautiful
house to live in, no early trains to catch, no bad weather to go
through, holidays in the country and with any luck foreign travel. I
can't understand why many more girls like me don't go in for this sort
of life. I only thought, of course, it would be so nice to be under your
eye and guidance. Mother would much prefer it to be that way, I'm sure."
But even this practical argument had no effect except to rouse the good
lady's dander. "You are a very nagging girl," she cried. "I can see
perfectly well what you're driving at but you won't undermine my
decision, I can tell you that. I will not have you in this house and
that's final."
Lola was beaten. To her astonishment and chagrin she found that her nail
was not to be hammered in. There was steel in the old lady's
composition, after all. But there was steel in her own and she quickly
decided to leave things as they stood and think out another line of
attack before the following Thursday. And then, remembering Ernest
Treadwell, who was living up to his name from one end of the street to
the other and back, she rose to tear herself away with an air of great
patience and affection. Just as she was about to bend down and touch the
usual ear with her lips, the door suddenly swung open and a woman with
bobbed hair, wearing a red velvet tam-o'-shanter and a curious one-piece
garment of brown velvet which disclosed a pair of very admirable legs,
stood smiling in the doorway. Her face was as white as the petals of a
white rose. Her large violet eyes had lashes as black as her eyebrows
and her wanton mouth showed a set of teeth as white and strong as a
negro's. "Oh, hello, Breezy," she cried out, her voice round and
ringing. "Excuse my barging in like this. I want to know what you've
done about the table decorations for to-morrow night."
Miss Breezy rose hurriedly to her feet, and Lola, although she had never
seen this woman before, followed her example, sensing the fact that here
was the famous Lady Feo.
"I sent Mr. Biddle round to Lee and Higgins in Bond Street, my lady. You
need have no anxiety about it."
"That's all right but I've altered my mind. I don't want flowers. I've
bought a set of caricatures and I'm going to put one in front of every
place. If it's too late to cancel the order, telephone to Lee and
Higgins and tell them to send the flowers to any old hospital that
occurs to them." Lady Feo had spotted Lola immediately and during all
this time had never taken her eyes away from the girl's face and figure,
which she looked over with frank and unabashed curiosity and admiration.
With characteristic effrontery she made her examination as thorough as
she would have done if she had been sizing up a horse with a view to
purchase. "Attractive little person," she said to herself. "As dainty as
a piece of Sevres. What the devil's she doing here?" Making conversation
with a view to discover who Lola was, she added aloud, "I see you've
hung the pictures, Breezy.--Breezy and seascapes; they go well together,
don't they?" And she laughed at the little joke,--a gay and boyish
laugh.
With her heart thumping and a ray of hope in front of her, Lola marked
her appreciation of the joke with her most delighted smile.
And Miss Breezy indulged in a diplomatic titter.
"Isn't it a little remiss of you, Breezy, not to introduce me to your
friend?"
"Oh, I beg your ladyship's pardon, I'm sure. This is my niece Lola." She
wished the child in the middle of next week and dreaded the result of
this most unfortunate interruption.
Lady Feo stretched out her hand,--a long-fingered able hand, born for
the violin. "How do you do," she said, as though to an equal. "How is it
that I haven't seen you before? Breezy and I are such old friends. I
call her Breezy in that rather abrupt manner--forgive me, won't
you?--because I'm both rude and affectionate. I hope I didn't cut in on
a family consultation?"
Lola braced herself. Here was her opportunity indeed! "Oh, no, my lady.
It _was_ a sort of consultation, because I came to talk to Aunt about my
future. It's time I earned my own living and as she doesn't want me to
go on the stage, she's going to be kind enough to help me in another
way." She got all this in a little breathlessly, with charming naivete.
"What way?" asked Lady Feo bluntly. "I should think you'd make a great
success on the stage."
Lola took no notice of her aunt's angry and frantic signs. She stood
demure and modest under the searching gaze of Lady Feo and with a sense
of extreme triumph took the jump. "The way I most wanted to begin," she
said, "was to be your ladyship's maid. That's my great ambition."
"And for the love of heaven, why not? Breezy, why the deuce haven't you
told me about this girl? I would like to have her about me. She's
decorative. I wouldn't mind being touched by her and I'm sure she'd look
after my things. Look how neat she is. She might have come out of a
bandbox."
Miss Breezy bit her lip. She was bitterly annoyed. She was unaware of
the expression but she felt that Lola had double-crossed her,--as indeed
she had. "Well, my lady," she said, "to tell you the truth, I didn't
think that you would care to have two people of the same family in your
house. It always leads to trouble."
"Oh, rot," said Lady Feo, "I loathe those old shibboleths. They're so
silly." She turned to Lola. "Look here, do you really mean to say that
you'd rather be a lady's maid than kick your heels about in the chorus?"
"If you please, my lady," said Lola.
"Well, I think you'll miss a lot of fun, but as far as I'm concerned,
you're an absolute Godsend. The girl I've had for two years is going to
be married. Of course, I can't stop that, as much as I shall miss her.
The earth needs repeopling, so I must let her go. The question has been
where to get another. With all the unemployment no one seems very keen
on doing anything but work in factories. I'd love to have you. Come by
all means. Breezy, engage her. I hope we shall rub along very nicely
together."
As much to hide the gleam in her eyes from her aunt as to show deference
to her new mistress, Lola bowed. "I thank you, my lady," she said.
"Fine," said Lady Feo, "fine. That's great. Saves me a world of trouble.
Pretty lucky thing that I looked in here, wasn't it?" She went to the
door and turned. "When can you come, Lola?"
"To-morrow.--To-night."
"To-night. I will let Emily off at once. She'll be glad enough. I'll
send you home in the car. You can pack your things and get back in time
to brush my hair. I suppose you know something about your job?"
Miss Breezy broke in hurriedly. Even now perhaps it might not be too
late to beat this girl at her own game. "That's it, my lady," she said,
tumbling over her words. "She doesn't know anything about it. I'm afraid
I ought to say----"
"Oh, well, Breezy, that's nothing new. They none of 'em know anything.
I'll teach her. I don't want a sham expert with her nose in the air. All
I need is a girl with quick fingers, nippy on her feet, good to look at,
who will laugh at my jokes. You promise to do that, Lola?"
A most delicious smile curled all about Lola's mouth. "I promise, my
lady," she said.
Lady Feo nodded at her. "She'll make a sensation," she thought. "How
jealous they'll all be.--Righto, then. Seven o'clock. Don't be late. So
long." And off she went, slamming the door behind her.
"You little devil," said Miss Breezy, her dignity in great slabs at her
feet.
But Lola had won. And the amazing part of it was that the door of the
house in Dover Street had been opened to her by Fallaray's wife.
PART II
I
Mrs. Malwood was hipped. She had been losing heavily at bridge, her
Pomeranian had been run over in Berkeley Square and taken to the dog's
hospital, her most recent flame had just been married to his colonel's
daughter, and her fourth husband was still alive. Poor little soul, she
had lots to grumble about. So she had come round to be cheered up by Feo
Fallaray who always managed to laugh through deaths and epidemics to
find her friend in the first stages of being dressed for dinner. She had
explained her mental attitude, received a hearty kiss and been told to
lie down and make herself comfortable. There she was, at the moment, in
one of the peculiar frocks which had become almost like the uniform of
Feo's "gang." She was not old, except in experience. In fact, she was
not more than twenty-three. But as she lay on the sofa with her eyes
closed and her lashes like black fans on her cheeks, a little pout on
her pretty mouth and her bobbed head resting upon a brilliant cushion,
she looked, in those clothes of hers, like a school girl whose
headmistress was a woman of an aesthetic turn of mind but with a curious
penchant for athleticism. Underneath her smock of duvetyn, the color of
a ripe horse-chestnut, she wore bloomers and stockings rolled down under
her knees,--as everybody could see. She might have been a rather swagger
girl scout who never scouted, and there was just a touch of masculinity
about her without anything muscular. She was, otherwise, so tiny a thing
that any sort of a man could have taken her up in one hand and held her
above his head. Very different from Lady Feo, whose shoulders were
broad, whose bones were large, who stood five foot ten without her
shoes, who could hand back anything that was given to her and swing a
golf club like a man.
"I've just been dipping into Margot's Diary, Georgie. Topping stuff. I
wish to God she were young again,--one of us. She'd make things hum. I
can't understand why the critics have all thrown so many vitriolic fits
about her book and called her the master egotist. Don't they know the
meaning of words and isn't this an autobiography? Good Lord, if any
woman has a right to be egotistical it's Margot. She did everything well
and to my way of thinking she writes better than all the novelists
alive. She can sum up a character as well in ten lines as all our
verbose young men in ten chapters. In her next book I hope to heaven
she'll get her second wind and put a searchlight into Downing Street.
Her poor old bird utterly lost his tail but the public ought to know to