by Elinor Glyn
CHAPTER III
It was about a fortnight later that Katherine got Matilda to meet her ata Lyons' popular cafe for tea on a Wednesday afternoon. Livingstone andDevereux had given her a half holiday, being on country business bent;and having matured her plans, and having set fresh schemes in train, shethought she might as well communicate them to the one sister whomattered to her. Matilda loved an excuse to "get up to town," and hadcome in her best hat, with smiling face. Katherine was always verygenerous to her, though she was no more careless about money than shewas about other things.
"It is all very well, Tild," she said, in her deep voice, after they hadspoken upon indifferent subjects for a while. "But I am tired of it. Iam absolutely tired of it, so there! I am tired of Liv and Dev--tired ofthe hateful old click of the machine with no change of work--I am tiredof seeing the people of another class through the glass screen--and Imean to get out of it."
"Whatever are you talking of, Kitten!" the elder Miss Bush exclaimed, asshe stirred her cocoa. "Why, Liv and Dev's as good a berth as you'dget--thirty bob a week, and a whole holiday on Saturday--to say nothingof off times like this--you must be mad, dearie!" Then something furtherin her sister's remark aroused comment.
"And what do you mean by people of 'another class'? Why, aren't we asgood as anyone--if we had their money?"
Katherine Bush put down her empty cup before she replied:
"No, we're not--and if you weren't as ignorant as you are, dear oldTild, you'd know it. There are lots and lots of classes above us--theymayn't be any cleverer--indeed, they are often fools, and many aren'tany richer--but they're ladies and gentlemen."
Matilda felt personally insulted.
"Upon my word, Kitten!--If you are such a poor thing that you don'tconsider yourself a young lady--I am not. I always did say that youwould pick up rubbishly ideas bothering after those evening lectures andFrench classes--instead of coming with Glad and Bert and me to thecinema, like a decent Christian--it was a low sort of thing to do, Ithink, and looked as if we'd none of us had a proper education--and allthey have done for you is to unsettle your mind, my dear--so I tellyou."
Katherine Bush smiled complacently and looked at her sister straight inthe eyes in her disconcerting way, which insured attention. Matildaknew that she would now have to listen probably to some home truths.She could manage Gladys very well in spite of her giggles andirresponsibility, but she had never been able to have the slightestinfluence upon Katherine from the moment of their mother's death, yearsbefore, when she had taken her place as head of the orphaned household.Katherine had always been odd. She had a vile temper as a child, andwas silent and morose, and at constant war with that bright boy Bert,loved of the other sisters: Matilda remembered very well many sceneswhen Katherine had puzzled her. She was so often scornful anddisapproving, and used to sit there with a book scowling at them onSundays when a rowdy friend or two came in to tea, and never oncejoined in the chorus of the comic songs they sang, while she simplyloathed the gramophone records.
"You say awfully silly things sometimes, Tild," Katherine announcedcalmly. "There would not be any good in my considering myself a younglady, because at my present stage anyone who really knew would know thatI am not--but I mean to become one some day. You can do anything withwill."
Matilda bridled.
"I don't know what more of a lady you could be than we all are--Why,Mabel Cawber always says that we are the most refined family of thewhole lot at Bindon's Green--and Mabel ought to know surely!"
"Because her father was a solicitor, and she has never done a stroke ofwork in her life?" Katherine smiled again--it made Matilda feeluncomfortable.
"Mabel is a perfect lady," she affirmed indignantly.
"I will be able to tell you about that in a year's time, I expect,"Katherine said, reflectively. "At present, I am not experienced enoughto say, but I strongly feel that she is not. You see, Tild, you get yourideas of things from the trash you read--and from the ridiculousnonsense Fred and Albert talk after they come home from those meetingsat the National Brotherhood Club--fool's stuff about the equality of allmen----"
"Of course we are all equal!" broke in Matilda, still ruffled.
Katherine Bush smiled again. "Well, I wish you could see the differencebetween Fred and Bert and those gentlemen I see through the glassscreen! They have all got eyes and noses and legs and arms in common,but everything else is different, and if you knew anything aboutevolution, you'd understand why."
"Should I!" indignantly.
"Yes. It is the something inside the head, something in the ideas,produced by hundreds of years of different environment and a wider pointof view--and it is immensely in the little customs and manners of speechand action. If you had ever seen and spoken to a real gentleman, Tild,you would grasp it."
Matilda was quite unmollified and on the defensive.
"You can't have two more honourable, straightforward young fellows thanour brothers in no family in England, and I expect lots of your gentsborrowing money are as crooked as can be!"
Katherine became contemplative.
"Probably--the thing I mean does not lie in moral qualities--I supposeit ought to--but it doesn't--We had a real sharp last week, and to lookat and to hear him talk he was a perfect gentleman, with refined andeasy manners; he would never have done anything in bad taste like Fredand Bert often do."
"Bad taste!" snorted Matilda.
"Yes--we all do. No gentleman ever tells people in words that he isone--Fred and Bert say it once a week, at least. They lay the greateststress on it. No real gentlemen get huffy and touchy; they are too sureof themselves and do not pretend anything, they are quite natural andyou take them as they are. They don't do one thing at home at ease, andanother when they are dressed up, and they aren't a bit ashamed ofknowing anyone. Fred does not speak to Ernie Gibbs when he is out withMabel, although they were at school together!"
"Ernie Gibbs! Why, Kitten, he is only a foreman in the Bindon Gas Works!Of course not! Mabel _would_ take on!"
Matilda thought her sister was being too stupid!
"Yes, I am sure she would--that is just it----"
"And quite right, too!"
Katherine shrugged her shoulders. There was not much use in arguing withMatilda, she felt, Matilda who had never thought out any problem forherself in her life--Matilda who had not the privilege of knowing anyattractive Lord Algys!--and who therefore could not have grasped theimmeasurable gulf that she, Katherine, had found lay between his classand hers!
"They say Fred is a capable auctioneer because father and grandfatherwere--you hear people saying 'it is in the blood'--Well, why is it,Tild?--Because heredity counts just as it does in animals, of course. Sowhy, if a man's father and grandfather, and much further back still,have been gentlemen commanding their inferiors, and fulfilling theduties of their station, should not the traits which mean that show asplainly as the auctioneer traits show in Fred----?"
Matilda had no answer ready, she felt resentful; but words did not come,so Katherine went on:
"You can't jump straight to things; they either have to come by instinctthrough a long line of forebears, or you have to have intelligenceenough to make yourself acquire the outward signs of them, throughwatching and learning from those who you can see for yourself have whatyou want."
Matilda called for another cup of cocoa--she disliked these views ofKatherine's.
"You see," that young woman went on, "no one who is a real thing everhas to tell people so in words. Liv and Dev don't have to say they aretwo of the sharpest business men in London--anyone can realise it whoknows them. You, and all of us, don't have to tell people we belong tothe lower middle class, because it is plain to be seen, but we wouldhave to tell them we were ladies and gentlemen, because we are not. LordAl--oh! any lord who comes to our office--does not have to say he is anaristocrat; you can see it for yourself in a minute by his ways. It isthe shams that always keep shouting. Mabel Cawber insists upon it thatshe is a tip-top swell; Fred
thinks he is deceiving everyone by tellingthem what a gentleman he is, and by not speaking to Ernie Gibbs, who isan awfully good fellow. Emily says she is a splendid general, and can'teven light a fire, and won't learn how to. George Berker in our officesays he is a first-class clerk, and muddles his accounts. Everythingtrue speaks for itself. I always mean to be perfectly true, and win outby learning."
Matilda, though somewhat crushed, was still antagonistic.
"I'm sure I hope you'll succeed then, my dear!" she snapped.
"Yes, I shall." Katherine fired her bomb. "It may take me some time, butthat does not matter, and the first step I have already taken is that Iam leaving Liv and Dev's on Friday--and, I hope, going to be secretaryto Sarah Lady Garribardine, at a hundred and ten Berkeley Square, andBlissington Court, Blankshire!"
"Well, there! You could have knocked me over with a feather!" as Matildatold Gladys later in the evening. "And wasn't it like Katherine nevertelling us a thing about it until everything was almost settled!" But atthe moment, she merely breathed a strangled:
"Oh, my!"
"If I get it, I go to my new situation next week. I had a tremendouspiece of luck coming across it."
"Well, however did you do it, Kitten?" Matilda demanded.
"I saw an advertisement in the _Morning Post_--it was quite astrange one, and seemed to be advertising for a kind of _AdmirableCrichton_--someone who could take down shorthand at lightning speed, andtypewrite and speak French--and read aloud, and who had a good knowledgeof English literature, and thoroughly knew the duties of a secretary."
"Oh! My!" said Matilda again, "but you can't do half of those things,Kitten--we none of us know French, do we!"
Katherine smiled; how little her family understood her in any way!
"I wrote first and said they seemed to want a great deal, but as I hadbeen with Livingstone and Devereux for three years, and accustomed tocomposing every sort of letter that a moneylender's business required, Ithought I could soon become proficient in the other things."
"Well, I never! What cheek!"
"Then I got an answer saying Lady Garribardine liked my communication,and if I proved satisfactory in appearance, and had some credentials,she would engage me immediately, because her secretary, who had beenwith her for years, had gone to be married--the salary would be ninetypounds a year with a rise, so it's a slight move up, anyway, as I am tobe kept, and live in the house."
"You are cocksure of getting it, Katherine?"
"Yes--I mean to--I am going to see her on Saturday."
"And what are your references besides Liv and Dev? Some folks don't likemoneylenders."
"I wrote and said I had no others--but they would testify to mycapacity. Liv nearly had a fit when I gave my notice--he almost cried toget me to stay on. I like the old boy--he is a good sort, and will tellthe truth about me."
"And did they answer?"
"Yes--just to say I was to come for the interview on Saturday."
"They want to see you, anyway--what is the family, I wonder?"
Here Katherine recited the details from Debrett, in which volume she wasvery proficient.
"An old lady, then," Matilda commented, "and with no children except amarried daughter! That will be easier for you--but why is she called'Sarah'? I often have wondered about that, when I read names in the_Flare_. Why 'Sarah Lady Something'--and not plain Lady Something?"
"It's when the man in possession is married and you are not his mother,"Katherine told her, "and if you are, and still have your Christian nametacked on, it is to make you sound younger. Dev says dowagers are quiteout of fashion. Every widow is 'Sarah' or 'Cordelia' now in the highsociety, and when he first went to business, there were only two orthree. Queen Victoria never stood any nonsense."
Matilda was very interested.
"Whatever will you do about your clothes, Kitten? You have nothing nobbyand smart like Gladys. She could lend you her purple taffeta if youweren't so tall."
"Oh, I manage all right. I'll have a talk with Gladys to-night; she seesthe right sort of people at Ermantine's, and can tell me what toget--and I'll buy it to-morrow in my lunch hour."
"Well, I am just rattled," Matilda admitted. "Then you'll be leavinghome quite, dearie?"
"Yes, Tild--and I shan't be sorry except to be parted from you--but Idaresay I shall be able to come and see you now and then."
Matilda looked tearful.
"You never were one of us, Katherine."
"No, I know I never was. I often have wondered what accident pitchforkedme in among you, always the discordant note and the wet blanket. I harkback to someone, I suppose--I've always determined to get out, when Iwas ready."
"You never did care for us--never, Kitten."
Katherine Bush remained quite unmoved.
"No, never for the others--but always for you, Tild--and I'll neverforget you, dear. There, don't be a donkey and cry--the people at thenext table are looking at you."
This argument she knew would calm her sister--who was intenselysensitive to everyone's opinion.
"And supposing they don't take you?" Matilda suggested, in a stillquavering voice, "and you've given notice to Liv and Dev--I call itawfully risky."
"Then I will look out for something else--I am determined to make achange, and see a new world, whatever happens."
After supper that evening, Gladys was invited up to the warmed atticwith Matilda, an honour she duly appreciated. They all stood inirritated awe of Katherine.
"I want to talk about clothes, Glad," she said, when they neared thetiny fireplace. "I have told Tild I am going about a new berth onSaturday."
This caused the same astonishment and exclamations as Matilda hadalready indulged in--and when calm was restored, Gladys was only toopleased to show her superior knowledge.
"I don't want to hear about any of those actresses you dress, or thoseladies who look like them, I want to know what a real, quiet, well-bredcountess, say, would have, Glad."
Miss Gladys Bush smiled contemptuously.
"Oh, a regular frump, you mean--like the ones we can't persuade to havetight skirts when they are first the fashion, or loose ones when itchanges--that is easy enough--it is to get 'the look' that isdifficult."
"They probably would not engage me if I had 'the look,'" Katherineremarked cynically.
"You'd better have something like we made for Lady Beatrice Strobridgelast week, then," Gladys suggested. "One of our hands can copy it athome, but there won't be time by Saturday. You'd better wear your bestblue serge and get a new hat for the first meeting."
"Lady Beatrice Strobridge must be the Hon. Gerard Strobridge's wife, mynew employer's late husband's nephew. Strobridge is the Garribardinename." Katherine had looked up diligently the whole family, and knew thedetails of each unit by heart.
"She only got married two years ago," Gladys continued. "She wasThorvil, before--Lady Beatrice Thorvil."
"Wife of the present man's younger brother," quoted Katherine,remembering Debrett. "He is about thirty-five; the present man isforty."
"She is a regular dowdy, anyway," Gladys remarked. "One of those--wehave a bunch of them--that wants the things, and yet with their owntouch on them, spoiling the style. They come together generally, and domake a lot of fuss over each other--calling 'darlings' and 'precious'all the time--fit to make me and the girls die laughing with theirnonsense."
"What is she like--good-looking?" Katherine asked. She only questionedwhen she wanted specific information, never idly, and it was as well toknow everything about her possible new employer's family.
"She would not be bad if she did not stoop so. She hasn't got 'the walk'neither, no more than the 'look'; sometimes she's all right--at least,the things are all right when they go home, but she adds bits herselfafterwards, and spoils them."
Here Matilda interrupted.
"Anyway, she is one of the ladies you'll see in your new place, Kitten.I'd certainly have that same dress, it will just show them you are asgood as they, if you have a
n Ermantine model."
But Katherine thought differently. She agreed she would have somethingin the same subdued style as Lady Beatrice would have chosen, but notthe actual copy, and after settling details the other two sisters lefther for bed.
When they had gone, she sat by the fire and looked deeply into it, whileshe thought for a few moments. Then she drew a letter from her blouseand reread it. It was from Lord Algy. A sweet little love epistle. Justto tell her he could not possibly wait for the whole month before seeingher--and was coming up to town the following week--and would not shelunch with him at the old place--and perhaps stay with him again at theGreat Terminus? It ended with protestations of passionate devotion.
No--never again--she had tasted of the cup of bliss, and Fate was askingher to pay no price. She must have courage now to renounce all furtherpleasure. Once was an experience, twice would be weakness--which couldgrow into a habit--and thence lead to an abyss which she shuddered tothink of.
Katherine Bush had never read Theophile Gautier's masterpiece--but therewas something in her character, as Lord Algy had remarked, whichresembled _Mademoiselle de Maupin's_.
She went to her little writing-case and got out a sheet of paper, andthen, in her firm round hand which looked like a man's, she wrote himthese few lines:
_Dear Algy_,
I want you to forget all about me--I loved our little trip, but I am never going on another. I shall have left Liv and Dev's before you get back, and you won't see me again. With best love always.
K. B.
She folded it, put it in the envelope--addressed it and stamped it--thenshe put it ready to post in the morning.
Her face was white and set. It takes a strong will to renounce tangiblepresent happiness, however profound the beliefs in the future may be.
