Parlous Times: A Novel of Modern Diplomacy

Five minutes later the Secretary had joined the party in the drawing-room just as dinner was announced, and to his utter consternation his hostess whispered to him:

"I am sending you down with Lady Isabelle. I hear you and she are great chums."

"Great chums!" Stanley was tempted to plead sudden indisposition, and have his dinner in his room. Then a remembrance of his recent interview caused a wave of adverse feeling to sweep over him. Yes, he would take down Lady Isabelle. Was he to be badgered out of his dinner because a designing old woman could not leave well enough alone?

He could not indeed resist casting a look of amused triumph at the Dowager as he passed her with her daughter on his arm, but his conscience pricked him nevertheless, for he felt that his presence must be distasteful to his fair companion. That she really cared for him at all he could not bring himself to believe in the light of their conversation on the walk. Still, her frankness might have been assumed through pique at unreturned affection, and with a desire born of pride, to blind him to the true state of her feelings. The more he thought of this the more uneasy he became, and he could not help noticing that she was much more pale than he had as yet seen her, and seemed singularly abstracted. Moreover, he was certain that she was incurring her mother's displeasure, which would be to her a grave matter. He tried to make such atonement as lay in his power to make her feel at ease and to divert her mind. He told her his best stories, gave her his most brilliant conversation, but in vain. His endeavours fell hopelessly flat, and at last, after a dreadful pause, they spoke that which was in their hearts.

"Do you think it was nice of you to take me in to dinner?" she asked in that quiet conversational tone with which so many secrets have been told at dinners without arresting the attention of others.

"Really," he said, "I'd no option. Our hostess – "

"You managed to avoid it last night."

Stanley flushed.

"Do you mind so much?" he asked.

"Oh, no; but mamma."

"She didn't show me much consideration the last time we met."

"I was very sorry for you," she replied, "but as it had to come I thought I was better out of the way."

"Do you mean to say that you deliberately left me to my fate?"

"You mustn't be too hard on mamma. She wouldn't have thought she was doing right if she had not spoken."

"But," he continued relentlessly, "you – "

"Oh! I – ?"

"Yes, supposing I had – succumbed."

She paused a minute, and then looked shyly up at him.

"In that case," she began, when Mrs. Roberts rose, and gave the signal for the ladies to retire.

Stanley cursed the convention, yet perhaps it was fortunate, as the Dowager had been growing dangerously red and puffy in the face, owing to the fact that the two young people had, unconsciously, drawn closer together in the excitement of those unfinished words.

The cigars seemed interminable; but at last they were over, and the gentlemen were at liberty to seek the drawing-room.

There is generally a moment of indecision when the men come up from dinner. The ladies have appropriated the most comfortable and naturally the most isolated chairs, and their lords and masters huddle like sheep in the doorway, uncertain where to flee for refuge and the most desirable companion. The Secretary had studied this peculiarity of his sex, and had learned to choose his goal beforehand. One glance showed him that Lady Isabelle was absent; either she had retired, her mother was quite capable of ordering her off to bed to keep her out of harm's way, or else she was in the conservatory. He trusted that this last supposition was correct, and disappeared among the palms, when the Marchioness' attention was directed elsewhere.

"And in that case?" he said, as he stood beside her, recalling her last words at the table. "In that case?"

"In that case," she replied, flushing slightly, "I should probably have said something I might have regretted, had not Mrs. Roberts come to my rescue."

"And now?"

"Don't be stupid, Mr. Stanley. Surely you know that any well-brought-up girl would always obey her mother – and – and you ought to see that this conversation is impossible."

"It's certainly unique."

"Don't you think we had better change the subject?"

"By all means, if you wish it, after I've asked you one more question. I trust you won't think me rude to persist, but – do you care for me, Lady Isabelle?"

"As a friend, yes."

"But in no other way?"

"In no other way."

"You're quite sure?"

"Quite, and I'm very sorry you asked me the question. I tried hard to prevent you."

"You've succeeded admirably," he said, laughing. "I was afraid you did care."

He held out his hand, and she took it, saying with a little constraint in her manner:

"You're certainly frank."

He was pleased to see that she was only piqued; the speech had been unfortunate; but Lady Isabelle had plenty of common sense, and she realised that his naïve confession had cleared the atmosphere, and made social intercourse possible.

He made another attempt to interest her in general conversation, this time succeeding admirably. And so an hour slipped by unnoticed, until the stern voice of the Dowager recalled them to the realities of life.

"Isabelle," she said coldly, "you are surely forgetting your duty to our hostess, and to me also, it seems."

"I'm coming, mamma," she replied, and left him with a quiet "Good-night."

Stanley felt immensely relieved. That was over; Lady Isabelle and he understood each other now, and his path was clear for – was it to be matrimony after all? He told himself he was a weak fool – that Miss Fitzgerald cared nothing for him; would not take him after last night; that he was under no real obligation and that he was a sentimental idiot – yet, he must see her – for his own sake – to justify himself – to – He resolutely shut his eyes to the future, and went in search of the lady in question.

Ten minutes later, Belle and he were alone in the most favourable place in the house for a tête-à-tête, a curious old corner, the two sides of which were converted into a capacious seat to which there was but one approach, screened by a heavy curtain on one side and a suit of armour on the other – safe from all observers.

"What a quaint old house this is!" he said. "We might almost suppose we were back in the sixteenth century."

"Yes," she replied dreamily. "We're out of place in these surroundings."

She was in a strange mood this evening, sad and thoughtful, yet lacking the repose which should have accompanied reverie. It was the only time that the Secretary had ever seen her nervous or distraite.

"What have you been doing all day?" he asked, hoping to lead the conversation to some more cheerful subject.

"Trying to forget myself," she replied.

"Surely it would be a pleasure to remember yourself, I should think."

"Should you? I fear not."