Queen Lucia Read online

  Chapter TEN

  One morning about the middle of October, Lucia was seated at breakfastand frowning over a note she had just received. It began without anyformality and was written in pencil.

  "Do look in about half-past nine on Saturday and be silly for an hour or two. We'll play games and dance, shall we? Bring your husband of course, and don't bother to reply.

  "O.B."

  "An invitation," she said icily, as she passed it to her husband."Rather short notice."

  "We're not doing anything, are we?" he asked.

  Peppino was a little imperceptive sometimes.

  "No, it wasn't that I meant," she said. "But there's a little moreinformality about it than one would expect."

  "Probably it's an informal party," said he.

  "It certainly seems most informal. I am not accustomed to be askedquite like that."

  Peppino began to be aware of the true nature of the situation.

  "I see what you mean, _cara_," he said. "So don't let us go. Thenshe will take the hint perhaps."

  Lucia thought this over for a moment and found that she rather wantedto go. But a certain resentment that had been slowly accumulating inher mind for some days past began to leak out first, before sheconsented to overlook Olga's informality.

  "It is a fortnight since I called on her," she said, "and she has noteven returned the call. I daresay they behave like that in London incertain circles, but I don't know that London is any better for it."

  "She has been away twice since she came," said Peppino. "She has hardlybeen here for a couple of days together yet."

  "I may be wrong," said Lucia. "No doubt I am wrong. But I should havethought that she might have spared half-an-hour out of these days byreturning my call. However, she thought not."

  Peppino suddenly recollected a thrilling piece of news which mostunaccountably he had forgotten to tell Lucia.

  "Dear me, something slipped my memory," he said. "I met Mrs Westonyesterday afternoon, who told me that half an hour ago Miss Bracely hadseen her in her bath-chair and had taken the handles from Tommy Luton,and pushed her twice round the green, positively running."

  "That does not seem to me of very prime importance," said Lucia, thoughshe was thrilled to the marrow. "I do not wonder it slipped yourmemory, _caro_."

  "_Carissima_, wait a minute. That is not all. She told Mrs Westonthat she would have returned her call, but that she hadn't got anycalling cards."

  "Impossible!" cried Lucia. "They could have printed them at 'Ye oldeBooke Shop' in an afternoon."

  "That may be so, indeed, if you say so, it is," said Peppino. "Anyhowshe said she hadn't got any calling cards, and I don't see why sheshould lie about it."

  "No, it is not the confession one would be likely to make," said she,"unless it was true. Or even if it was," she added.

  "Anyhow it explains why she has not been here," said Peppino. "Shewould naturally like to do everything in order, when she called on you,_carissima_. It would have been embarrassing if you were out, andshe could not hand in her card."

  "And about Mr Shuttleworth?" asked she in an absent voice, as if shehad no real interest in her question.

  "He has not been seen yet at all, as far as I can gather."

  "Then shall we have no host, if we drop in tomorrow night?"

  "Let us go and see, _cara_," said he gaily.

  Apart from this matter of her call not being returned, Lucia had not asyet had any reason to suspect Olga of revolutionary designs on thethrone. She had done odd things, pushing Mrs Weston's chair round thegreen was one of them, smoking a cigarette as she came back from churchon Sunday was another, but these she set down to the Bohemianism andwant of polish which might be expected from her upbringing, if youcould call an orphan school at Brixton an upbringing at all. Thisterrific fact Georgie had let slip in his stern determination to knowtwice as much about Olga as anybody else, and Lucia had treasured it.She had in the last fortnight labelled Olga as "rather common,"retaining, however, a certain respect for her professional career,given that that professional career was to be thrown down as a carpetfor her own feet. But, after all, if Olga was a bit Bohemian in her wayof life, as exhibited by the absence of calling cards, Lucia wasperfectly ready to overlook that (confident in the refining influenceof Riseholme), and to go to the informal party next day, if she felt sodisposed, for no direct answer was asked for.

  There was a considerable illumination in the windows of Old Place whenshe and Peppino set out after dinner next night to go to the "silly"party, kindly overlooking the informality and the absence of a returnvisit to her call. It had been a sloppy day of rain, and, as wasnatural, Lucia carried some very smart indoor shoes in a paper-parceland Peppino had his Russian goloshes on. These were immense snow-boots,in which his evening shoes were completely encased, but Lucia preferrednot to disfigure her feet to that extent, and was clad in neatwalking-boots which she could exchange for her smart satin footwearin the cloak-room. The resumption of walking-boots when the eveningwas over was rather a feature among the ladies and was called "Thecobbler's at-home." The two started rather late, for it was fittingthat Lucia should be the last to arrive.

  They had come to the door of the Old Place, and Peppino was fumblingin the dark for the bell, when Lucia gave a little cry of agony andput her hands over her ears, just as if she had been seized with adouble-earache of peculiar intensity.

  "Gramophone," she said faintly.

  There could be no doubt about that. From the window close at hand cameout the excruciating strains of a very lusty instrument, and the recordwas that of a vulgar "catchy" waltz-tune, taken down from a brass-band.All Riseholme knew what her opinion about gramophones was; to the loverof Beethoven they were like indecent and profane language loudly usedin a public place. Only one, so far as was known, had ever come toRiseholme, and that was introduced by the misguided Robert Quantock.Once he had turned it on in her presence, but the look of agony whichcrossed her face was such that he had to stop it immediately. Then thedoor was opened, and the abominable noise poured out in increasedvolume.

  Lucia paused for a moment in indecision. Would it be the great, themagnificent thing to go home without coming in, trusting to Peppino tolet it be widely known what had turned her back from the door? Therewas a good deal to be said for that, for it would be living up to herown high and immutable standards. On the other hand she particularlywanted to see what standard of entertaining Olga was initiating. The"silly evening" was quite a new type of party, for since she haddirected and controlled the social side of things there had been no"silly evenings" of any kind in Riseholme, and it might be a good thingto ensure the failure of this (in case she did not like it) by settingthe example of a bored and frosty face. But if she went in, thegramophone must be stopped. She would sit and wince, and Peppino mustexplain her feeling about gramophones. That would be a suitableexhibition of authority. Or she might tell Olga.

  Lucia put on her satin shoes, leaving her boots till the hour of thecobbler's at-home came, and composing her face to a suitable wince wasled by a footman on tiptoe to the door of the big music room whichGeorgie had spoken of.

  "If you'll please to step in very quietly, ma'am," he said.

  The room was full of people; all Riseholme was there, and since therewere not nearly enough chairs (Lucia saw _that_ at once) a largenumber were sitting on the floor on cushions. At the far end of theroom was a slightly-raised dais, to the corner of which the grand pianohad been pushed, on the top of which, with its braying trumpet pointingstraight at Lucia was an immense gramophone. On the dais was Olgadancing. She was dressed in some white soft fabric shimmering withsilver, which left her beautiful arms bare to the shoulder. It was cutsquarely and simply about the neck, and hung in straight folds down tojust above her ankles. She held in her hands some long shimmering scarfof brilliant red, that floated and undulated as she moved, as ifinspired by some life of its own that it drew out of her slim superbvitality. From the cloud
of shifting crimson, with the slow billows ofsilver moving rhythmically round her body, that beautiful face lookedout deliciously smiling and brimming with life....

  Lucia had hardly entered when with a final bray the gramophone came tothe end of its record, and Olga swept a great curtsey, threw down herscarf, and stepped off the dais. Georgie was sitting on the floor closeto it, and jumped up, leading the applause. For a moment, thoughseveral heads had been turned at Lucia's entrance, nobody took theslightest notice of her, indeed, the first apparently to recognize herpresence was her hostess, who just kissed her hand to her, and thencontinued talking to Georgie. Then Olga threaded her way through thebesprinkled floor, and came up to her.

  "How wise you were to miss that very poor performance," she said. "ButMr Georgie insisted that I should make a fool of myself."

  "Indeed, I am sorry not to have been here for it," said Lucia in hermost stately manner. "It seemed to me very far from being a poorperformance, very far indeed. _Caro mio_, you remember MissBracely."

  "_Si, si molto bene_," said Peppino, shaking hands.

  "Ah, and you talk Italian," said Olga. "_Che bella lingua!_ I wishI knew it."

  "You have a very good pronunciation," said Lucia.

  "_Tante grazie_. You know everyone here of course. Now, what shallwe do next? Clumps or charades or what? Ah, there are some cigarettes.Won't you have one?"

  Lucia gave a little scream of dismay.

  "A cigarette for me? That would be a very odd thing," she said. Thenrelenting, as she remembered that Olga must be excused for herignorance, she added: "You see I never smoke. Never."

  "Oh, you should learn," said Olga. "Now let's play clumps. Doeseveryone know clumps? If they don't they will find out. Or shall wedance? There's the gramophone to dance to."

  Lucia put up her hands in playful petition.

  "Oh please, no gramophone!" she said.

  "Oh, don't you like it?" said Olga. "It's so horrible that I adore it,as I adore dreadful creatures in an aquarium. But I think we won'tdance till after supper. We'll have supper extremely soon, partlybecause I am dying of famine, and partly because people are sillierafterwards. But just one game of clumps first. Let's see; there are butenough for four clumps. Please make four clumps everybody, and--andwill you and two more go out with Mr Georgie, Mrs Lucas? We will be asquick as we can, and we won't think of anything that will make MrGeorgie blush. Oh, there he is! He heard!"

  Olga's intense enjoyment of her own party was rapidly galvanizingeverybody into a much keener gaiety than was at all usual in Riseholme,where as a rule, the hostess was somewhat anxious and watchful, fearingthat her guests were not amusing themselves, and that the sandwicheswould give out. There was a sit-down supper when the clumps were over(Mrs Quantock had been the first to guess Beethoven's little toe on hisright foot, which made Lucia wince) and there were not enough men andmaids to wait, and so people foraged for themselves, and Olga paradedup and down the room with a bottle of champagne in one hand, and a dishof lobster-salad in the other. She sat for a minute or two first at onetable and then at another, and asked silly riddles, and sent to thekitchen for a ham, and put out all the electric light by mistake, whenshe meant to turn on some more. Then when supper was over they all tooktheir seats back into the music-room and played musical chairs, at theend of which Mrs Quantock was left in with Olga, and it was believedthat she said "Damn," when Mrs Quantock won. Georgie was in charge ofthe gramophone which supplied deadly music, quite forgetting that thiswas agony to Lucia, and not even being aware when she made a sign toPeppino, and went away having a cobbler's at-home all to herself.Nobody noticed when Saturday ended and Sunday began, for Georgie andColonel Boucher were cock-fighting on the floor, Georgie screaming out"How tarsome" when he was upset, and Colonel Boucher very red in theface saying "Haw, hum. Never thought I should romp again like this. ByJove, most amusing!" Georgie was the last to leave and did not noticetill he was half-way home that he had a ham-frill adorning his shirtfront. He hoped that it had been Olga who put it there, when he had towalk blind-fold across the floor and try to keep in a straight line.

  Riseholme got up rather late next morning, and had to hurry over itsbreakfast in order to be in time for church. There was a slight feelingof reaction abroad, and a sense of having been young and amused, and ofwaking now to the fact of church-bells and middle-age. Colonel Bouchersinging the bass of "A few more years shall roll," felt his mindinstinctively wandering to the cock-fight the evening before, anddepressedly recollecting that a considerable number of years had rolledalready. Mrs Weston, with her bath-chair in the aisle and Tommy Lutonto hand her hymn-book and prayer-book as she required, looked sidewaysat Mrs Quantock, and thought how strange it was that Daisy, so fewhours ago, had been racing round a solitary chair with Georgie's fingeron the gramophone, while Georgie, singing tenor by Colonel Boucher'sample side, saw with keen annoyance that there was a stain of tarnishedsilver on his forefinger, accounted for by the fact that afterbreakfast he had been cleaning the frame which held the photograph ofOlga Bracely and had been astonished to hear the church-bellsbeginning. Another conducement to depression on his part was the factthat he was lunching with Lucia, and he could not imagine what Lucia'sattitude would be towards the party last night. She had come to churchrather late, having no use for the General Confession, and sang withstony fervour. She wore her usual church-face, from which nothingwhatever could be gathered. A great many stealthy glances right andleft from everybody failed to reveal the presence of their hostess oflast night. Georgie, in particular, was sorry for this; he would haveliked her to show that capacity for respectable seriousness which herpresence at church that morning would have implied; while Lucia, inparticular, was glad of this, for it confirmed her view that MissBracely was not, nor could ever be, a true Riseholmite. She had thoughtas much last night, and had said so to Peppino. She proposed to say thesame to Georgie today.

  Then came a stupefying surprise as Mr Rumbold walked from his stall tothe pulpit for the sermon. Generally he gave out the number of theshort anthem which accompanied this manoeuvre, but today he made nosuch announcement. A discreet curtain hid the organist from thecongregation, and veiled his gymnastics with the stops and his anticdancing on the pedals, and now when Mr Rumbold moved from his stall,there came from the organ the short introduction to Bach's "MeinGlaubige Herz," which even Lucia had allowed to be nearly "equal" toBeethoven. And then came the voice....

  The reaction after the romp last night went out like a snuffed candleat this divine singing, which was charged with the joyfulness of someheavenly child. It grew low and soft, it rang out again, it lingeredand tarried, it quickened into the ultimate triumph. No singing couldhave been simpler, but that simplicity could only have sprung from thehighest art. But now the art was wholly unconscious; it was part of thesinger who but praised God as the thrushes do. She who had made gaietylast night, made worship this morning.

  As they sat down for the discourse, Colonel Boucher discreetlywhispered to Georgie "By Jove." And Georgie rather more audiblyanswered "Adorable." Mrs Weston drew a half-a-crown from her purseinstead of her usual shilling, to be ready for the offertory, and MrsQuantock wondered if she was too old to learn to sing.

  Georgie found Lucia very full of talk that day at luncheon, and wasmarkedly more Italian than usual. Indeed she put down an Italiangrammar when he entered the drawing-room, and covered it up with theessays of Antonio Caporelli. This possibly had some connection with thefact that she had encouraged Olga last night with regard to herpronunciation.

  "_Ben arrivato, Georgio_," she said. "_Ho finito il libro diAntonio Caporelli quanta memento. E magnifico!_"

  Georgie thought she had finished it long ago, but perhaps he wasmistaken. The sentence flew off Lucia's tongue as if it was perchedthere all quite ready.

  "_Sono un poco fatigata dopo il_--dear me how rusty I am gettingin Italian for I can't remember the word," she went on. "Anyhow I am alittle tired after last night. A delightful little party, was it not?It was cleve
r of Miss Bracely to get so many people together at soshort a notice. Once in a while that sort of romp is very well."

  "I enjoyed it quite enormously," said Georgie.

  "I saw you did, _cattivo ragazzo_," said she. "You quite forgotabout your poor Lucia and her horror of that dreadful gramophone. I hadto exert all the calmness that Yoga has given me not to scream. But youwere naughty with the gramophone over those musical chairs--unmusicalchairs, as I said to Peppino, didn't I, _caro_?--taking it off andputting it on again so suddenly. Each time I thought it was the end._E pronta la colazione. Andiamo_."

  Presently they were seated; the menu, an unusual thing in itself atluncheon, was written in Italian, the scribe being clearly Lucia.

  "I shall want a lot of Georgino's _tempo_ this week," she said,"for Peppino and I have quite settled we must give a little afterdinner party next Saturday, and I want you to help me to arrange someimpromptu tableaux. Everything impromptu must just be sketched outfirst, and I daresay Miss Bracely worked a great deal at her dance lastnight and I wish I had seen more of it. She was a little awkward in themanagement of her draperies I thought, but I daresay she does not knowmuch about dancing. Still it was very graceful and effective for anamateur, and she carried it off very well."

  "Oh, but she is not quite an amateur," said Georgie. "She has played inSalome."

  Lucia pursed her lips.

  "Indeed, I am sorry she played in that," she said. "With herundoubtedly great gifts I should have thought she might have found aworthier object. Naturally I have not heard it. I should be very muchashamed to be seen there. But about our tableaux now. Peppino thoughtwe might open with the Execution of Mary Queen of Scots. It is adreadful thing that I have lost my pearls. He would be the executionerand you the priest. Then I should like to have the awakening ofBrunnhilde."

  "That would be lovely," said Georgie. "Have you asked Miss Olga if shewill?"

  "_Georgino mio_, you don't quite understand," said Lucia. "Thisparty is to be for Miss Bracely. I was her guest last night in spite ofthe gramophone, and indeed I hope she will find nothing in my housethat jars on her as much as her gramophone jarred on me. I had adreadful nightmare last night--didn't I, Peppino?--in consequence.About the Brunnhilde tableaux, I thought Peppino would be Siegfried--andperhaps you could learn just fifteen or twenty bars of the music andplay it while the curtain was up. You can play the same over againif it is encored. Then how about King Cophetua and the beggar-maid. Ishould be with my back to the audience, and should not turn round atall; it would be quite your tableaux. We will just sketch them out, asI said, and have a grouping or two to make sure we don't get in eachother's way, and I will see that there are some dresses of some kindwhich we can just throw on. The tableaux with a little music, seriousmusic, would be quite sufficient to keep everybody interested."

  By this time Georgie had got a tolerable inkling of the import of allthis. It was not at present to be war; it was to be magnificentrivalry, a throwing down perhaps of a gauntlet, which none wouldventure to pick up. To confirm this view, Lucia went on with gatheringanimation.

  "I do not propose to have games, romps shall I call them?" she said,"for as far as I know Riseholme, and perhaps I know it a little betterthan dear Miss Bracely, Riseholme does not care for that sort of thing.It is not quite in our line; we may be right or wrong, I am sure I donot know, but as a matter of fact, we _don't_ care for that sortof thing. Dear Miss Bracely did her very best last night; I am sure shewas prompted only by the most hospitable motives, but how should sheknow? The supper too. Peppino counted nineteen empty champagnebottles."

  "Eighteen, _carissima_," said Peppino.

  "I think you told me nineteen, _caro_, but it makes very littledifference. Eighteen empty champagne bottles standing on the sideboard,and no end to the caviare sandwiches which were left over. It was alltoo much, though there were not nearly enough chairs, and indeed Inever got one at all except just at supper."

  Lucia leaned forward over the table, with her hands clasped.

  "There was display about it, _Georgino_, and you know how I hatedisplay," she said. "Shakespeare was content with the most modestscenery for his masterpieces, and it would be a great mistake if weallowed ourselves to be carried away by mere wasteful opulence. In allthe years I have lived here, and contributed in my humble way to thelife of the place, I have heard no complaints about my suppers or teas,nor about the quality of entertainment which I offer my guests whenthey are so good as to say '_Si_,' to _le mie invitazione_.Art is not advanced by romping, and we are able to enjoy ourselveswithout two hundred caviare sandwiches being left over. And suchwasteful cutting of the ham; I had to slice the chunk she gave me overand over again before I could eat it."

  Georgie felt he could not quite let this pass.

  "Well, I had an excellent supper," he said, "and I enjoyed it verymuch. Besides, I saw Peppino tucking in like anything. Ask him what hethought of it."

  Lucia gave her silvery laugh.

  "_Georgino_, you are a boy," she said artfully, "and 'tuck in' asyou so vulgarly call it without thinking, I'm saying nothing againstthe supper, but I'm sure that Peppino and Colonel Boucher would havefelt better this morning if they had been wiser last night. But that'snot the real point. I want to show Miss Bracely, and I'm sure she willbe grateful for it, the sort of entertainment that has contented us atRiseholme for so long. I will frame it on her lines; I will ask all andsundry to drop in with just a few hours' notice, as she did. Everythingshall be good, and there shall be about it all something that I seemedto miss last night. There was a little bit--how shall I say it?--alittle bit of the footlights about it all. And the footlights didn'tseem to me to have been extinguished at church-time this morning. Thesinging of that very fine aria was theatrical, I can't call it lessthan theatrical."

  She fixed Georgie with her black beady eye, and smoothed her undulatedhair.

  "Theatrical," she said again. "Now let us have our coffee in themusic-room. Shall Lucia play a little bit of Beethoven to take outany nasty taste of gramophone? Me no likey gramophone at all. Nebber!"

  Georgie now began to feel himself able to sympathise with thatsurfeited swain who thought how happy he could be with either, weret'other dear charmer away. Certainly he had been very happy with Luciaall these years, before t'other dear charmer alighted in Riseholme, andnow he felt that should Lucia decide, as she had often so nearlydecided, to spend the winter on the Riviera, Riseholme would still be avery pleasant place of residence. He never was quite sure how seriouslyshe had contemplated a winter on the Riviera, for the mere mention ofit had always been enough to make him protest that Riseholme could notpossibly exist without her, but today, as he sat and heard (rather thanlistened to) a series of slow movements, with a brief and hazardousattempt at the scherzo of the "Moonlight," he felt that if any talk ofthe Riviera came up, he would not be quite so insistent as to theimpossibility of Riseholme continuing to exist without her. He could,for instance, have existed perfectly well this Sunday afternoon ifLucia had been even at Timbuctoo or the Antipodes, for as he went awaylast night, Olga had thrown a casual intimation to him that she wouldbe at home, if he had nothing better to do, and cared to drop in.Certainly he had nothing better to do but he had something worse todo....

  Peppino was sitting in the window-seat, with eyes closed, because helistened to music better so, and with head that nodded occasionally,presumably for the same reason. But the cessation of the slow movementnaturally made him cease to listen, and he stirred and gave the sighwith which Riseholme always acknowledged the end of a slow movement.Georgie sighed too, and Lucia sighed; they all sighed, and then Luciabegan again. So Peppino closed his eyes again, and Georgie continuedhis mental analysis of the situation.

  At present, so he concluded, Lucia did not mean war. She meant, as bysome great armed demonstration, to exhibit the Riseholme spirit in itsfull panoply, and then crush into dazzled submission any potentialrivalry. She meant also to exert an educational influence, for sheallowed that Olga had great
gifts, and she meant to train and refinethose gifts so that they might, when exercised under benign butautocratic supervision, conduce to the strength and splendour ofRiseholme. Naturally she must be loyally and ably assisted, and Georgierealized that the tableau of King Cophetua (his tableau as she hadsaid) partook of the nature of a bribe, and, if that word wasinvidious, of a raising of his pay. It was equally certain that thisprolonged recital of slow movements was intended to produce in his minda vivid consciousness of the contrast between the romp last night andthe present tranquil hour, and it did not fail in this respect.

  Lucia shut the piano-lid, and almost before they had given their sighs,spoke.

  "I think I will have a little dinner-party first," she said. "I willask Lady Ambermere. That will make us four, with you Georgie, and MissBracely and Mr Shuttleworth will make six. The rest I shall ask to comein at nine, for I know Lady Ambermere does not like late hours. And nowshall we talk over our tableaux?"

  So even Lucia's mind had not been wholly absorbed in Beethoven, thoughGeorgie, as usual, told her she had never played so divinely.