by E. F. Benson
CHAPTER XI
The sea-mist and the rain continued without intermission next morning,but shopping with umbrellas and mackintoshes was unusually brisk, forthere was naturally a universally felt desire to catch sight of aContessa with as little delay as possible. The foggy conditions perhapsadded to the excitement, for it was not possible to see more than a fewyards, and thus at any moment anybody might almost run into her. Diva'simpressions, meagre though they were, had been thoroughly circulated,but the morning passed, and the ladies of Tilling went home to changetheir wet things and take a little ammoniated quinine as a precautionafter so long and chilly an exposure, without a single one of themhaving caught sight of the single eyeglass. It was disappointing, butthe disappointment was bearable since Mr. Wyse, so far from wanting hisparty to be very small, had been encouraged by Mrs. Poppit to hope thatit would include all his world of Tilling with one exception. He hadhopes with regard to the Major and the Captain, and the Padre and weewifie, and Irene and Miss Mapp, and of course Isabel. But apparently hedespaired of Diva.
She alone therefore was absent from this long, wet shopping, for shewaited indoors, almost pen in hand, to answer in the affirmative theinvitation which had at present not arrived. Owing to the thickness ofthe fog, her absence from the street passed unnoticed, for everybodysupposed that everybody else had seen her, while she, biting her nailsat home, waited and waited and waited. Then she waited. About a quarterpast one she gave it up, and duly telephoned, according to promise, viaJanet and Withers, to Miss Mapp to say that Mr. Wyse had not yet hoped.It was very unpleasant to let them know, but if she had herself rung upand been answered by Elizabeth, who usually rushed to the telephone, shefelt that she would sooner have choked than have delivered this message.So Janet telephoned and Withers said she would tell her mistress. Anddid.
Miss Mapp was steeped in pleasant conjectures. The most likely of allwas that the Contessa had seen that roundabout little busybody in thestation, and taken an instant dislike to her through her singleeyeglass. Or she might have seen poor Diva inquisitively inspecting theluggage with the coronets and the Fs on it, and have learned with painthat this was one of the ladies of Tilling. "Algernon," she would havesaid (so said Miss Mapp to herself), "who is that queer little woman? Isshe going to steal some of my luggage?" And then Algernon would havetold her that this was poor Diva, quite a decent sort of little body.But when it came to Algernon asking his guests for the dinner-party inhonour of his betrothal and her arrival at Tilling, no doubt theContessa would have said, "Algernon, I beg...." Or if Diva--poorDiva--was right in her conjectures that the notes had been writtenbefore the arrival of the train, it was evident that Algernon had tornup the one addressed to Diva, when the Contessa heard whom she was tomeet the next evening.... Or Susan might easily have insinuated thatthey would have two very pleasant tables of bridge after dinner withoutincluding Diva, who was so wrong and quarrelsome over the score. Any ofthese explanations were quite satisfactory, and since Diva would not bepresent, Miss Mapp would naturally don the crimson-lake. They would allsee what crimson-lake looked like when it decked a suitable wearer andwas not parodied on the other side of a card-table. How true, as dearMajor Benjy had said, that one woman could wear what another couldnot.... And if there was a woman who could not wear crimson-lake it wasDiva.... Or was Mr. Wyse really ashamed to let his sister see Diva inthe crimson-lake? It would be just like him to be considerate of Diva,and not permit her to make a guy of herself before the Italianaristocracy. No doubt he would ask her to lunch some day, quite quietly.Or had ... Miss Mapp bloomed with pretty conjectures, like some Alpinemeadow when smitten into flower by the spring, and enjoyed her lunchvery much indeed.
The anxiety and suspense of the morning, which, instead of beingrelieved, had ended in utter gloom, gave Diva a headache, and sheadopted her usual strenuous methods of getting rid of it. So, instead oflying down and taking aspirin and dozing, she set out after lunch towalk it off. She sprinted and splashed along the miry roads, indifferentas to whether she stepped in puddles or not, and careless how wet shegot. She bit on the bullet of her omission from the dinner-party thisevening, determining not to mind one atom about it, but to look forwardto a pleasant evening at home instead of going out (like this) in thewet. And never--never under any circumstances would she ask any of theguests what sort of an evening had been spent, how Mr. Wyse announcedthe news, and how the Faradiddleony played bridge. (She said thatsatirical word aloud, mouthing it to the puddles and the drippinghedge-rows.) She would not evince the slightest interest in it all; shewould cover it with spadefuls of oblivion, and when next she met Mr.Wyse she would, whatever she might feel, behave exactly as usual. Sheplumed herself on this dignified resolution, and walked so fast that thehedge-rows became quite transparent. That was the proper thing to do;she had been grossly slighted, and, like a true lady, would be unawareof that slight; whereas poor Elizabeth, under such circumstances, wouldhave devised a hundred petty schemes for rendering Mr. Wyse's life aburden to him. But if--if (she only said "if") she found any reason tobelieve that Susan was at the bottom of this, then probably she wouldthink of something worthy not so much of a true lady but of a truewoman. Without asking any questions, she might easily arrive atinformation which would enable her to identify Susan as the culprit, andshe would then act in some way which would astonish Susan. What that waywas she need not think yet, and so she devoted her entire mind to thequestion all the way home.
Feeling better and with her headache quite gone, she arrived in Tillingagain drenched to the skin. It was already after tea-time, and sheabandoned tea altogether, and prepared to console herself for herexclusion from gaiety with a "good blow-out" in the shape of regulardinner, instead of the usual muffin now and a tray later. To add dignityto her feast, she put on the crimson-lake tea-gown for the last timethat it would be crimson-lake (though the same tea-gown still), sinceto-morrow it would be sent to the dyer's to go into perpetual mourningfor its vanished glories. She had meant to send it to-day, but all thismisery and anxiety had put it out of her head.
Having dressed thus, to the great astonishment of Janet, she sat down todivert her mind from trouble by Patience. As if to reward her for herstubborn fortitude, the malignity of the cards relented, and shebrought out an intricate matter three times running. The clock on hermantelpiece chiming a quarter to eight, surprised her with the latenessof the hour, and recalled to her with a stab of pain that it wasdinner-time at Mr. Wyse's, and at this moment some seven pairs of eagerfeet were approaching the door. Well, she was dining at a quarter toeight, too; Janet would enter presently to tell her that her own banquetwas ready, and gathering up her cards, she spent a pleasant thoughregretful minute in looking at herself and the crimson-lake for the lasttime in her long glass. The tremendous walk in the rain had given her analmost equally high colour. Janet's foot was heard on the stairs, andshe turned away from the glass. Janet entered.
"Dinner?" said Diva.
"No, ma'am, the telephone," said Janet. "Mr. Wyse is on the telephone,and wants to speak to you very particularly."
"Mr. Wyse himself?" asked Diva, hardly believing her ears, for she knewMr. Wyse's opinion of the telephone.
"Yes, ma'am."
Diva walked slowly, but reflected rapidly. What must have happened wasthat somebody had been taken ill at the last moment--was itElizabeth?--and that he now wanted her to fill the gap.... She was tornin two. Passionately as she longed to dine at Mr. Wyse's, she did notsee how such a course was compatible with dignity. He had only asked herto suit his own convenience; it was not out of encouragement to hopethat he invited her now. No; Mr. Wyse should want. She would say thatshe had friends dining with her; that was what the true lady would do.
She took up the ear-piece and said, "Hullo!"
It was certainly Mr. Wyse's voice that spoke to her, and it seemed totremble with anxiety.
"Dear lady," he began, "a most terrible thing has happened----"
(Wonder if Elizabeth's very ill, thought Diva.)
<
br /> "Quite terrible," said Mr. Wyse. "Can you hear?"
"Yes," said Diva, hardening her heart.
"By the most calamitous mistake the note which I wrote you yesterday wasnever delivered. Figgis has just found it in the pocket of his overcoat.I shall certainly dismiss him unless you plead for him. Can you hear?"
"Yes," said Diva excitedly.
"In it I told you that I had been encouraged to hope that you would dinewith me to-night. There was such a gratifying response to my otherinvitations that I most culpably and carelessly, dear lady, thought thateverybody had accepted. Can you hear?"
"Of course I can!" shouted Diva.
"Well, I come on my knees to you. Can you possibly forgive the jointstupidity of Figgis and me, and honour me after all? We will put dinneroff, of course. At what time, in case you are ever so kind and indulgentas to come, shall we have it? Do not break my heart by refusing.Su--Mrs. Poppit will send her car for you."
"I have already dressed for dinner," said Diva proudly. "Very pleased tocome at once."
"You are too kind; you are angelic," said Mr. Wyse. "The car shall startat once; it is at my door now."
"Right," said Diva.
"Too good--too kind," murmured Mr. Wyse. "Figgis, what do I do next?"
Diva clapped the instrument into place.
"Powder," she said to herself, remembering what she had seen in theglass, and whizzed upstairs. Her fish would have to be degraded intokedgeree, though plaice would have done just as well as sole for that;the cutlets could be heated up again, and perhaps the whisking for theapple-meringue had not begun yet, and could still be stopped.
"Janet!" she shouted. "Going out to dinner! Stop the meringue."
She dashed an interesting pallor on to her face as she heard the hootingof the Royce, and coming downstairs, stepped into its warmluxuriousness, for the electric lamp was burning. There were Susan'ssables there--it was thoughtful of Susan to put them in, butostentatious--and there was a carriage rug, which she was convinced wasnew, and was very likely a present from Mr. Wyse. And soon there was thelight streaming out from Mr. Wyse's open door, and Mr. Wyse himself inthe hall to meet and greet and thank and bless her. She pleaded for thecontrite Figgis, and was conducted in a blaze of triumph into thedrawing-room, where all Tilling was awaiting her. She was led up to theContessa, with whom Miss Mapp, wreathed in sycophantic smiles, waseagerly conversing.
The crimson-lakes....
* * * * *
There were embarrassing moments during dinner; the Contessa confused byhaving so many people introduced to her in a lump, got all their nameswrong, and addressed her neighbours as Captain Flint and Major Puffin,and thought that Diva was Mrs. Mapp. She seemed vivacious andgood-humoured, dropped her eye-glass into her soup, talked with hermouth full, and drank a good deal of wine, which was a very bad examplefor Major Puffin. Then there were many sudden and complete pauses in thetalk, for Diva's news of the kissing of Mrs. Poppit by the Contessa hadspread like wildfire through the fog this morning, owing to Miss Mapp'sdissemination of it, and now, whenever Mr. Wyse raised his voice ever solittle, everybody else stopped talking, in the expectation that the newswas about to be announced. Occasionally, also, the Contessa addressedsome remark to her brother in shrill and voluble Italian, which ratherconfirmed the gloomy estimate of her table-manners in the matter oftalking with her mouth full, for to speak in Italian was equivalent towhispering, since the purport of what she said could not be understoodby anybody except him.... Then also, the sensation of dining with acountess produced a slight feeling of strain, which, in addition to thecorrect behaviour which Mr. Wyse's presence always induced, almostcongealed correctness into stiffness. But as dinner went on her evidentenjoyment of herself made itself felt, and her eccentricities, thoughcarefully observed and noted by Miss Mapp, were not succeeded bysilences and hurried bursts of conversation.
"And is your ladyship making a long stay in Tilling?" asked the (real)Major, to cover the pause which had been caused by Mr. Wyse sayingsomething across the table to Isabel.
She dropped her eye-glass with quite a splash into her gravy, pulled itout again by the string as if landing a fish and sucked it.
"That depends on you gentlemen," she said with greater audacity than wasusual in Tilling. "If you and Major Puffin and that sweet little Scotchclergyman all fall in love with me, and fight duels about me, I willstop for ever...."
The Major recovered himself before anybody else.
"Your ladyship may take that for granted," he said gallantly, and aperfect hubbub of conversation rose to cover this awful topic.
She laid her hand on his arm.
"You must not call me ladyship, Captain Flint," she said. "Only servantssay that. Contessa, if you like. And you must blow away this fog for me.I have seen nothing but bales of cotton-wool out of the window. Tell methis, too: why are those ladies dressed alike? Are they sisters? Mrs.Mapp, the little round one, and her sister, the big round one?"
The Major cast an apprehensive eye on Miss Mapp seated just opposite,whose acuteness of hearing was one of the terrors of Tilling.... Hisapprehensions were perfectly well founded, and Miss Mapp hated anddespised the Contessa from that hour.
"No, not sisters," said he, "and your la--you've made a little errorabout the names. The one opposite is Miss Mapp, the other Mrs.Plaistow."
The Contessa moderated her voice.
"I see; she looks vexed, your Miss Mapp. I think she must have heard,and I will be very nice to her afterwards. Why does not one of yougentlemen marry her? I see I shall have to arrange that. The sweetlittle Scotch clergyman now; little men like big wives. Ah! Marriedalready is he to the mouse? Then it must be you, Captain Flint. We musthave more marriages in Tilling."
Miss Mapp could not help glancing at the Contessa, as she made thisremarkable observation. It must be the cue, she thought, for theannouncement of that which she had known so long.... In the space of awink the clever Contessa saw that she had her attention, and spokerather loudly to the Major.
"I have lost my heart to your Miss Mapp," she said. "I am jealous ofyou, Captain Flint. She will be my great friend in Tilling, and if youmarry her, I shall hate you, for that will mean that she likes youbest."
Miss Mapp hated nobody at that moment, not even Diva, off whose face thehastily-applied powder was crumbling, leaving little red marks peepingout like the stars on a fine evening. Dinner came to an end with roastedchestnuts brought by the Contessa from Capri.
"I always scold Amelia for the luggage she takes with her," said Mr.Wyse to Diva. "Amelia dear, you are my hostess to-night"--everybody sawhim look at Mrs. Poppit--"you must catch somebody's eye."
"I will catch Miss Mapp's," said Amelia, and all the ladies rose as ifconnected with some hidden mechanism which moved them simultaneously....There was a great deal of pretty diffidence at the door, but theContessa put an end to that.
"Eldest first," she said, and marched out, making Miss Mapp, Diva andthe mouse feel remarkably young. She might drop her eye-glass and talkwith her mouth full, but really such tact.... They all determined toadopt this pleasing device in the future. The disappointment about theannouncement of the engagement was sensibly assuaged, and Miss Mapp andSusan, in their eagerness to be younger than the Contessa, and yet takeprecedence of all the rest, almost stuck in the doorway. They reboundedfrom each other, and Diva whizzed out between them. Quaint Irene wentin her right place--last. However quaint Irene was, there was no use inpretending that she was not the youngest.
However hopelessly Amelia had lost her heart to Miss Mapp, she did notdevote her undivided attention to her in the drawing-room, but swiftlyestablished herself at the card-table, where she proceeded, with a mostcomplicated sort of Patience and a series of cigarettes, to while awaythe time till the gentlemen joined them. Though the ladies of Tillinghad plenty to say to each other, it was all about her, and such commentscould not conveniently be made in her presence. Unless, like her, theytalked some language unknown to
the subject of their conversation, theycould not talk at all, and so they gathered round her table, and watchedthe lightning rapidity with which she piled black knaves on red queensin some packs and red knaves on black queens in others. She had takenoff all her rings in order to procure a greater freedom of finger, andher eye-glass continued to crash on to a glittering mass of magnificentgems. The rapidity of her motions was only equalled by the swift andsurprising monologue that poured from her mouth.
"There, that odious king gets in my way," she said. "So like a man topoke himself in where he isn't wanted. _Bacco!_ No, not that: I have acigarette. I hear all you ladies are terrific bridge-players: we willhave a game presently, and I shall sink into the earth with terror atyour Camorra! _Dio!_ there's another king, and that's his own queen whomhe doesn't want at all. He is _amoroso_ for that black queen, who isquite covered up, and he would like to be covered up with her. Susan, mydear" (that was interesting, but they all knew it already), "kindlyring the bell for coffee. I expire if I do not get my coffee at once,and a toothpick. Tell me all the scandal of Tilling, Miss Mapp, while Iplay--all the dreadful histories of that Major and that Captain. Such agrand air has the Captain--no, it is the Major, the one who does notlimp. Which of all you ladies do they love most? It is Miss Mapp, Ibelieve: that is why she does not answer me. Ah! here is the coffee, andthe other king: three lumps of sugar, dear Susan, and then stir it upwell, and hold it to my mouth, so that I can drink without interruption.Ah, the ace! He is the intervener, or is it the King's Proctor? It wouldbe nice to have a proctor who told you all the love-affairs that weregoing on. Susan, you must get me a proctor: you shall be my proctor. Andhere are the men--the wretches, they have been preferring wine to women,and we will have our bridge, and if anybody scolds me, I shall cry, MissMapp, and Captain Flint will hold my hand and comfort me."
She gathered up a heap of cards and rings, dropped them on the floor,and cut with the remainder.
Miss Mapp was very lenient with the Contessa, who was her partner, andpointed out the mistakes of her and their adversaries with the mostwinning smile and eagerness to explain things clearly. Then she revokedheavily herself, and the Contessa, so far from being angry with her,burst into peals of unquenchable merriment. This way of taking a revokewas new to Tilling, for the right thing was for the revoker's partner tosulk and be sarcastic for at least twenty minutes after. The Contessa'slaughter continued to spurt out at intervals during the rest of therubber, and it was all very pleasant; but at the end she said she wasnot up to Tilling standards at all, and refused to play any more. MissMapp, in the highest good-humour, urged her not to despair.
"Indeed, dear Contessa," she said, "you play very well. A littleoverbidding of your hand, perhaps, do you think? but that is a tendencywe are all subject to: I often overbid my hand myself. Not a little weerubber more? I'm sure I should like to be your partner again. You mustcome and play at my house some afternoon. We will have tea early, andget a good two hours. Nothing like practice."
The evening came to an end without the great announcement being made,but Miss Mapp, as she reviewed the events of the party, sitting nextmorning in her observation-window, found the whole evidence sooverwhelming that it was no longer worth while to form conjectures,however fruitful, on the subject, and she diverted her mind to pleasingreminiscences and projects for the future. She had certainly beendistinguished by the Contessa's marked regard, and her opinion of hercharm and ability was of the very highest.... No doubt her strangeremark about duelling at dinner had been humorous in intention, but manya true word is spoken in jest, and the Contessa--perspicaciouswoman--had seen at once that Major Benjy and Captain Puffin were justthe sort of men who might get to duelling (or, at any rate, challenging)about a woman. And her asking which of the ladies the men were most inlove with, and her saying that she believed it was Miss Mapp! Miss Mapphad turned nearly as red as poor Diva when that came out, so lightly andyet so acutely....
Diva! It had, of course, been a horrid blow to find that Diva had beenasked to Mr. Wyse's party in the first instance, and an even shrewderone when Diva entered (with such unnecessary fussing and apology on thepart of Mr. Wyse) in the crimson-lake. Luckily, it would be seen nomore, for Diva had promised--if you could trust Diva--to send it to thedyer's; but it was a great puzzle to know why Diva had it on at all, ifshe was preparing to spend a solitary evening at home. By eight o'clockshe ought by rights to have already had her tray, dressed in some oldthing; but within three minutes of her being telephoned for she hadappeared in the crimson-lake, and eaten so heartily that it wasimpossible to imagine, greedy though she was, that she had alreadyconsumed her tray.... But in spite of Diva's adventitious triumph, themain feeling in Miss Mapp's mind was pity for her. She looked soridiculous in that dress with the powder peeling off her red face. Nowonder the dear Contessa stared when she came in.
There was her bridge-party for the Contessa to consider. The Contessawould be less nervous, perhaps, if there was only one table: that wouldbe more homey and cosy, and it would at the same time give rise to greatheart-burnings and indignation in the breasts of those who were leftout. Diva would certainly be one of the spurned, and the Contessa wouldnot play with Mr. Wyse.... Then there was Major Benjy, he must certainlybe asked, for it was evident that the Contessa delighted in him....
Suddenly Miss Mapp began to feel less sure that Major Benjy must be ofthe party. The Contessa, charming though she was, had said several verytropical, Italian things to him. She had told him that she would stophere for ever if the men fought duels about her. She had said "you deardarling" to him at bridge when, as adversary, he failed to trump herlosing card, and she had asked him to ask her to tea ("with no one else,for I have a great deal to say to you"), when the general macedoine ofsables, au reservoirs, and thanks for such a nice evening took place inthe hall. Miss Mapp was not, in fact, sure, when she thought it over,that the Contessa was a nice friend for Major Benjy. She did not do himthe injustice of imagining that he would ask her to tea alone; the verysuggestion proved that it must be a piece of the Contessa's Southernextravagance of expression. But, after all, thought Miss Mapp toherself, as she writhed at the idea, her other extravagant expressionswere proved to cover a good deal of truth. In fact, the Major's chanceof being asked to the select bridge-party diminished swiftly towardsvanishing point.
It was time (and indeed late) to set forth on morning marketings, andMiss Mapp had already determined not to carry her capacious basket withher to-day, in case of meeting the Contessa in the High Street. It wouldbe grander and Wysier and more magnificent to go basket-less, and directthat the goods should be sent up, rather than run the risk ofencountering the Contessa with a basket containing a couple of muttoncutlets, a ball of wool and some tooth-powder. So she put on her Princeof Wales's cloak, and, postponing further reflection over thebridge-party till a less busy occasion, set forth in unencumberedgentility for the morning gossip. At the corner of the High Street, sheran into Diva.
"News," said Diva. "Met Mr. Wyse just now. Engaged to Susan. All overthe town by now. Everybody knows. Oh, there's the Padre for the firsttime."
She shot across the street, and Miss Mapp, shaking the dust of Diva offher feet, proceeded on her chagrined way. Annoyed as she was with Diva,she was almost more annoyed with Susan. After all she had done forSusan, Susan ought to have told her long ago, pledging her to secrecy.But to be told like this by that common Diva, without any secrecy atall, was an affront that she would find it hard to forgive Susan for.She mentally reduced by a half the sum that she had determined tosquander on Susan's wedding-present. It should be plated, not silver,and if Susan was not careful, it shouldn't be plated at all.
She had just come out of the chemist's, after an indignant interviewabout precipitated chalk. He had deposited the small packet on thecounter, when she asked to have it sent up to her house. He could notundertake to deliver small packages. She left the precipitated chalklying there. Emerging, she heard a loud, foreign sort of scream fromclose at hand. There was
the Contessa, all by herself, carrying amarketing basket of unusual size and newness. It contained a bloodysteak and a crab.
"But where is your basket, Miss Mapp?" she exclaimed. "Algernon told methat all the great ladies of Tilling went marketing in the morning withbig baskets, and that if I aspired to be _du monde_, I must have mybasket, too. It is the greatest fun, and I have already written to Ceccoto say I am just going marketing with my basket. Look, the steak is forFiggis, and the crab is for Algernon and me, if Figgis does not get it.But why are you not _du monde_? Are you _du demi-monde_, Miss Mapp?"
She gave a croak of laughter and tickled the crab....
"Will he eat the steak, do you think?" she went on. "Is he not lively? Iwent to the shop of Mr. Hopkins, who was not there, because he wasengaged with Miss Coles. And was that not Miss Coles last night at mybrother's? The one who spat in the fire when nobody but I was looking?You are enchanting at Tilling. What is Mr. Hopkins doing with MissColes? Do they kiss? But your market basket: that disappoints me, forAlgernon said you had the biggest market-basket of all. I bought thebiggest I could find: is it as big as yours?"
Miss Mapp's head was in a whirl. The Contessa said in the loudestpossible voice all that everybody else only whispered; she displayed (inher basket) all that everybody else covered up with thick layers ofpaper. If Miss Mapp had only guessed that the Contessa would have amarket-basket, she would have paraded the High Street with a leg ofmutton protruding from one end and a pair of Wellington boots from theother.... But who could have suspected that a Contessa....
Black thoughts succeeded. Was it possible that Mr. Wyse had beensatirical about the affairs of Tilling? If so, she wished him nothingworse than to be married to Susan. But a playful face must be put, forthe moment, on the situation.
"Too lovely of you, dear Contessa," she said. "May we go marketingtogether to-morrow, and we will measure the size of our baskets? Suchfun I have, too, laughing at the dear people in Tilling. But whatthrilling news this morning about our sweet Susan and your dear brother,though of course I knew it long ago."
"Indeed! how was that?" said the Contessa quite sharply.
Miss Mapp was "nettled" at her tone.
"Oh, you must allow me two eyes," she said, since it was merely tediousto explain how she had seen them from behind a curtain kissing in thegarden. "Just two eyes."
"And a nose for scent," remarked the Contessa very genially.
This was certainly coarse, though probably Italian. Miss Mapp's opinionof the Contessa fluctuated violently like a barometer before a storm andindicated "Changeable."
"Dear Susan is such an intimate friend," she said.
The Contessa looked at her very fixedly for a moment, and then appearedto dismiss the matter.
"My crab, my steak," she said. "And where does your nice Captain, no,Major Flint live? I have a note to leave on him, for he has asked me totea all alone, to see his tiger skins. He is going to be my flirt whileI am in Tilling, and when I go he will break his heart, but I will havetold him who can mend it again."
"Dear Major Benjy!" said Miss Mapp, at her wits' end to know how to dealwith so feather-tongued a lady. "What a treat it will be to him to haveyou to tea. To-day, is it?"
The Contessa quite distinctly winked behind her eyeglass, which she hadput up to look at Diva, who whirled by on the other side of the street.
"And if I said 'To-day,'" she remarked, "you would--what is it that thatone says"--and she indicated Diva--"yes, you would pop in, and the goodMajor would pay no attention to me. So if I tell you I shall go to-day,you will know that is a lie, you clever Miss Mapp, and so you will go totea with him to-morrow and find me there. _Bene!_ Now where is hishouse?"
This was a sort of scheming that had never entered into Miss Mapp'slife, and she saw with pain how shallow she had been all these years.Often and often she had, when inquisitive questions were put her,answered them without any strict subservience to truth, but never hadshe thought of confusing the issues like this. If she told Diva a lie,Diva probably guessed it was a lie, and acted accordingly, but she hadnever thought of making it practically impossible to tell whether it wasa lie or not. She had no more idea when she walked back along the HighStreet with the Contessa swinging her basket by her side, whether thatlady was going to tea with Major Benjy to-day or to-morrow or when, thanshe knew whether the crab was going to eat the beefsteak.
"There's his house," she said, as they paused at the dentist's corner,"and there's mine next it, with the little bow-window of my garden-roomlooking out on to the street. I hope to welcome you there, dearContessa, for a tiny game of bridge and some tea one of these days verysoon. What day do you think? To-morrow?"
(Then she would know if the Contessa was going to tea with Major Benjyto-morrow ... unfortunately the Contessa appeared to know that she wouldknow it, too.)
"My flirt!" she said. "Perhaps I may be having tea with my flirtto-morrow."
Better anything than that.
"I will ask him, too, to meet you," said Miss Mapp, feeling in someawful and helpless way that she was playing her adversary's game."Adversary?" did she say to herself? She did. The inscrutable Contessawas "up to" that too.
"I will not amalgamate my treats," she said. "So that is his house! Whata charming house! How my heart flutters as I ring the bell!"
Miss Mapp was now quite distraught. There was the possibility that theContessa might tell Major Benjy that it was time he married, but on theother hand she was making arrangements to go to tea with him on anunknown date, and the hero of amorous adventures in India and elsewheremight lose his heart again to somebody quite different from one whom hecould hope to marry. By daylight the dear Contessa was undeniably plain:that was something, but in these short days, tea would be conducted byartificial light, and by artificial light she was not so like a rabbit.What was worse was that by any light she had a liveliness which might bemistaken for wit, and a flattering manner which might be taken forsincerity. She hoped men were not so easily duped as that, and was sadlyafraid that they were. Blind fools!
* * * * *
The number of visits that Miss Mapp made about tea-time in this weekbefore Christmas to the post-box at the corner of the High Street, withan envelope in her hand containing Mr. Hopkins's bill for fish (and apostal order enclosed), baffles computation. Naturally, she did notintend, either by day or night, to risk being found again with a blankunstamped envelope in her hand, and the one enclosing Mr. Hopkins's billand the postal order would have passed scrutiny for correctness,anywhere. But fair and calm as was the exterior of that envelope, nonecould tell how agitated was the hand that carried it backwards andforwards until the edges got crumpled and the inscription clouded withmuch fingering. Indeed, of all the tricks that Miss Mapp had compassedfor others, none was so sumptuously contrived as that in which she hadnow entangled herself.
For these December days were dark, and in consequence not only would theContessa be looking her best (such as it was) at tea-time, but from MissMapp's window it was impossible to tell whether she had gone to tea withhim on any particular afternoon, for there had been a strike at thegas-works, and the lamp at the corner, which, in happier days, wouldhave told all, told nothing whatever. Miss Mapp must therefore trudge tothe letter-box with Mr. Hopkins's bill in her hand as she went out, and(after a feint of posting it) with it in her pocket as she came back, inorder to gather from the light in the windows, from the sound ofconversation that would be audible as she passed close beneath them,whether the Major was having tea there or not, and with whom. Should shehear that ringing laugh which had sounded so pleasant when she revoked,but now was so sinister, she had quite determined to go in and borrow abook or a tiger-skin--anything. The Major could scarcely fail to ask herto tea, and, once there, wild horses should not drag her away until shehad outstayed the other visitor. Then, as her malady of jealousy grewmore feverish, she began to perceive, as by the ray of some dreadfuldawn, that lights in the Major's room and sounds of elfin laught
er werenot completely trustworthy as proofs that the Contessa was there. It waspossible, awfully possible, that the two might be sitting in thefirelight, that voices might be hushed to amorous whisperings, thatpregnant smiles might be taking the place of laughter. On one suchafternoon, as she came back from the letter-box with patient Mr.Hopkins's overdue bill in her pocket, a wild certainty seized her, whenshe saw how closely the curtains were drawn, and how still it seemedinside his room, that firelight dalliance was going on.
She rang the bell, and imagined she heard whisperings inside while itwas being answered. Presently the light went up in the hall, and theMajor's Mrs. Dominic opened the door.
"The Major is in, I think, isn't he, Mrs. Dominic?" said Miss Mapp, inher most insinuating tones.
"No, miss; out," said Dominic uncompromisingly. (Miss Mapp wondered ifDominic drank.)
"Dear me! How tiresome, when he told me----" said she, with playfulannoyance. "Would you be very kind, Mrs. Dominic, and just see forcertain that he is not in his room? He may have come in."
"No, miss, he's out," said Dominic, with the parrot-like utterance ofthe determined liar. "Any message?"
Miss Mapp turned away, more certain than ever that he was in andimmersed in dalliance. She would have continued to be quite certainabout it, had she not, glancing distractedly down the street, caughtsight of him coming up with Captain Puffin.
Meantime she had twice attempted to get up a cosy little party of four(so as not to frighten the Contessa) to play bridge from tea tilldinner, and on both occasions the Faradiddleony (for so she had become)was most unfortunately engaged. But the second of these disappointingreplies contained the hope that they would meet at their marketingsto-morrow morning, and though poor Miss Mapp was really getting verytired with these innumerable visits to the post-box, whether wet orfine, she set forth next morning with the hopes anyhow of finding outwhether the Contessa had been to tea with Major Flint, or on what dayshe was going.... There she was, just opposite the post office, andthere--oh, shame!--was Major Benjy on his way to the tram, inlight-hearted conversation with her. It was a slight consolation thatCaptain Puffin was there too.
Miss Mapp quickened her steps to a little tripping run.
"Dear Contessa, so sorry I am late," she said. "Such a lot of littlethings to do this morning. (Major Benjy! Captain Puffin!) Oh, hownaughty of you to have begun your shopping without me!"
"Only been to the grocer's," said the Contessa. "Major Benjy has been soamusing that I haven't got on with my shopping at all. I have written toCecco to say that there is no one so witty."
(Major Benjy! thought Miss Mapp bitterly, remembering how long it hadtaken her to arrive at that. "And witty." She had not arrived at thatyet.)
"No, indeed!" said the Major. "It was the Contessa, Miss Mapp, who hasbeen so entertaining."
"I'm sure she would be," said Miss Mapp, with an enormous smile. "And,oh, Major Benjy, you'll miss your tram unless you hurry, and get no golfat all, and then be vexed with us for keeping you. You men always blameus poor women."
"Well, upon my word, what's a game of golf compared with the pleasure ofbeing with the ladies?" asked the Major, with a great fat bow.
"I want to catch that tram," said Puffin quite distinctly, and Miss Mappfound herself more nearly forgetting his inebriated insults than everbefore.
"You poor Captain Puffin," said the Contessa, "you shall catch it. Beoff, both of you, at once. I will not say another word to either of you.I will never forgive you if you miss it. But to-morrow afternoon, MajorBenjy."
He turned round to bow again, and a bicycle luckily (for the rider)going very slowly, butted softly into him behind.
"Not hurt?" called the Contessa. "Good! Ah, Miss Mapp, let us get to ourshopping! How well you manage those men! How right you are about them!They want their golf more than they want us, whatever they may say. Theywould hate us, if we kept them from their golf. So sorry not to havebeen able to play bridge with you yesterday, but an engagement. What abusy place Tilling is. Let me see! Where is the list of things thatFiggis told me to buy? That Figgis! A roller-towel for his pantry, andsome blacking for his boots, and some flannel I suppose for his fatstomach. It is all for Figgis. And there is that swift Mrs. Plaistow.She comes like a train with a red light in her face and wheels andwhistlings. She talks like a telegram--Good-morning, Mrs. Plaistow."
"Enjoyed my game of bridge, Contessa," panted Diva. "Delightful game ofbridge yesterday."
The Contessa seemed in rather a hurry to reply. But long before shecould get a word out Miss Mapp felt she knew what had happened....
"So pleased," said the Contessa quickly. "And now for Figgis's towels,Miss Mapp. Ten and sixpence apiece, he says. What a price to give for atowel! But I learn housekeeping like this, and Cecco will delight in allthe economies I shall make. Quick, to the draper's, lest there should beno towels left."
In spite of Figgis's list, the Contessa's shopping was soon over, andMiss Mapp having seen her as far as the corner, walked on, as if to herown house, in order to give her time to get to Mr. Wyse's, and then fledback to the High Street. The suspense was unbearable: she had to knowwithout delay when and where Diva and the Contessa had played bridgeyesterday. Never had her eye so rapidly scanned the movement ofpassengers in that entrancing thoroughfare in order to pick Diva out,and learn from her precisely what had happened.... There she was, comingout of the dyer's with her basket completely filled by a bulky package,which it needed no ingenuity to identify as the late crimson-lake. Shewould have to be pleasant with Diva, for much as that perfidious womanmight enjoy telling her where this furtive bridge-party had taken place,she might enjoy even more torturing her with uncertainty. Diva could, ifput to it, give no answer whatever to a direct question, but, skilfullychanging the subject, talk about something utterly different.
"The crimson-lake," said Miss Mapp, pointing to the basket. "Hope itwill turn out well, dear."
There was rather a wicked light in Diva's eyes.
"Not crimson-lake," she said. "Jet-black."
"Sweet of you to have it dyed again, dear Diva," said Miss Mapp. "Notvery expensive, I trust?"
"Send the bill in to you, if you like," said Diva.
Miss Mapp laughed very pleasantly.
"That would be a good joke," she said. "How nice it is that the dearContessa takes so warmly to our Tilling ways. So amusing she was aboutthe commissions Figgis had given her. But a wee bit satirical, do youthink?"
This ought to put Diva in a good temper, for there was nothing she likedso much as a few little dabs at somebody else. (Diva was not verygood-natured.)
"She is rather satirical," said Diva.
"Oh, tell me some of her amusing little speeches!" said Miss Mappenthusiastically. "I can't always follow her, but you are so quick! Alittle coarse too, at times, isn't she? What she said the other nightwhen she was playing Patience, about the queens and kings, wasn'tquite--was it? And the toothpick."
"Yes. Toothpick," said Diva.
"Perhaps she has bad teeth," said Miss Mapp; "it runs in families, andMr. Wyse's, you know--We're lucky, you and I."
Diva maintained a complete silence, and they had now come nearly as faras her door. If she would not give the information that she knew MissMapp longed for, she must be asked for it, with the uncertain hope thatshe would give it then.
"Been playing bridge lately, dear?" asked Miss Mapp.
"Quite lately," said Diva.
"I thought I heard you say something about it to the Contessa.Yesterday, was it? Whom did you play with?"
Diva paused, and, when they had come quite to her door, made up hermind.
"Contessa, Susan, Mr. Wyse, me," she said.
"But I thought she never played with Mr. Wyse," said Miss Mapp.
"Had to get a four," said Diva. "Contessa wanted her bridge. Nobodyelse."
She popped into her house.
There is no use in describing Miss Mapp's state of mind, except bysaying that for the moment she quite forgot that the
Contessa was almostcertainly going to tea with Major Benjy to-morrow.
