Miss Million's Maid: A Romance of Love and Fortune

by Berta Ruck

  CHAPTER XIII

  MY FIRST "AFTERNOON OUT"

  "DON'T you think it's about time you went and had an afternoon out,Smith?"

  This was the remark addressed to me by my employer the morning after theafternoon of her first tea-party.

  For a moment I didn't answer. The fact is I was too angry! This isabsurd, of course. For days I've scolded Million for forgetting ourquick change of positions, and for calling me "Miss" or "Miss Beatrice."And yet, now that the new heiress is beginning to realise our respectiveroles and to call me, quite naturally, by the name which I chose formyself, I'm foolishly annoyed. I feel the stirring of a rebelliouslittle thought. "What cheek!"

  This must be suppressed.

  "You know you did ought to have one afternoon a week," our oncemaid-of-all-work reminded me as she sat in a pale-blue glorifieddressing-gown in front of the dressing-table mirror. I had drawn up alower chair beside her, and was doing my best with the nails of one ofher still coarse and roughened little hands, gently pushing theill-treated skin away from the "half-moons." Million's other hand wasdipped into a clouded marble bowl full of warm, lemon-scented emollientstuff.

  "Here you've been doin' for me for well over the week now, and haven'ttaken a minute off for yourself."

  "Oh, I haven't wanted one, thanks," I replied rather absently.

  I wasn't thinking of what Million was saying. I was pondering ratherhelplessly over the whole situation thinking of Million, of herchildish ignorance and her money, of myself, of that flattering-tongued,fortune-hunting Irishman who had asked me in the corridor what "ourgame" was, of that coach-drive that he intended to take Millionto-morrow, of what all this was going to lead to.

  "Friday, this afternoon. I always had Fridays off. You'd better takeit," the new heiress said, with quite a new note of authority. "You canpop out dreckly after lunch, and I shan't want you back again until it'stime for you to come and do me up for late dinner."

  Miss Million dines in her room; but she is, as she puts it, "breakin' inall her low-cut gowns while she's alone, so as to get accustomed to thefeel of it."

  I looked at her.

  I thought, "Why does she want me out of the way?"

  For I couldn't help guessing that this was at the bottom of MissMillion's offering her maid that afternoon out!

  I said: "Oh, I don't think there's anywhere I want to go to, just yet."

  "Better go, and have it settled, like. Makes it more convenient to you,and more convenient to me, later on, if we know exactly how we standabout your times off," said Million quite obstinately. "I shan't wantyou after two this afternoon."

  This she evidently meant quite literally.

  I shall have to go, and to leave her to her own devices. I wonder whatthey will be? Perhaps an orgy of more shopping, without me, buying allthe cerise atrocities that I wouldn't allow her to look at. Garments andtrimmings of cerise would be a pitfall to Miss Million but for her maid.So would what she calls "a very sweet shade of healiotrope." Perhapsit's worse than that, though. Perhaps she's having Mr. Burke to teaagain, and wishes to keep it from the maid who said such disapprovingthings about him. I shall have to leave that, for the present.... Ishall just have to take this afternoon out.

  I went out, wondering where I should go. My feet seemed of their ownaccord to take me westwards, through Trafalgar Square and Pall Mall. Iwalked along, seeing little of the sauntering summer crowds. My mind wasfull of my own thoughts, my own frettings. I'd cut myself off from myown people, and what was going to come of it? Not the gloriousindependence I'd hoped for. No; a whole heap of new difficulties, andanything but a free hand wherewith to cope with them!

  I came out of this rather gloomy reflection to find myself in BondStreet. That narrow, Aristocrat-of-all-the-Thoroughfares has seen a gooddeal of Miss Million and her maid during the last couple of days. Notmuch of a change for my afternoon off! I didn't want to do any moreshopping; in fact, I shan't be able to do any more shopping for myselffor the next six months, seeing that of the two quarters' salary that Iasked Miss Million to advance me there remains about five shillings andsixpence.

  But I might give myself a little treat; say, tea in a nice place with agood band and a picture-gallery first. That might help me to forget, foran hour or so, the troubles and trials of being the lady's-maid to amillionairess.

  This was why I paid away one of my few remaining shillings at theturnstile of the Fine Art Society, and sauntered into the small, coolgallery.

  There was rather an amusing picture-show on. Drawings of things that Imyself had been up to my eyes in for the last day or so; the latestfashions for nineteen-fourteen! Drawings by French artists that madeclothes, fashion-plates, look as fascinating and as bizarre as the mostwonderful orchids. Such curious titles, too, were given to these cleverlittle pictures of feminine attire: "It is dark in the park"; "A roseamid the roses."

  There was one picture of a simple frock made not unlike Miss Million'swhite muslin with the blue sash, but how different frocks painted arefrom frocks worn! Or was it that the French manikin in the design knewhow to wear the----

  My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a voice speaking above myshoulder, speaking to me:

  "Ah! And is this where Miss Million's maid gathers her inspirations fordressing Miss Million?"

  I knew who this was, even before I turned from the pictures to facewhat looked like another very modern fashion-plate. A fashion-design forthe attire of a young man about town, the Honourable Jim Burke! So hewasn't calling on Miss Million again this afternoon, after all! Thatought to be one weight off my mind; and yet it wasn't. I felt curiouslynervous of this man. I don't know why. He raised his glossy hat andsmiled down at me. He spoke in the courteous tone of one enchanted tomeet some old acquaintance. "Good afternoon, Miss Lovelace!"

  A maid may not cut her mistress's chosen friends, even on her afternoonout. I was obliged to say "Good afternoon," which I did in a small andicy voice. Then, in spite of myself, I heard myself saying: "My name isSmith."

  The Honourable Jim said coolly: "Oh, I think not?"

  I said, standing there, all in black, against the gay background ofcoloured French drawings: "Smith is the name that I am known by as MissMillion's maid."

  "Exactly," said the big young Irishman gently, looking down at me andleaning on his ebony, gold-headed stick.

  He added, almost in a friendly manner: "You know, that's just what I'vebeen wanting to have a little talk to you about."

  "A talk to me?" I said.

  "Yes, to you, Miss Smith-Lovelace," he nodded. "You do belong to the oldLovelace Court Lovelaces, I suppose. The Lady Anastasia lot, that had tolet the place. Great pity! Yes! I know all about you," said thisalarming young man with those blue eyes that seemed to look through myface into the wall and out again into Bond Street. "Let's see, in yourbranch there'll be only you and the one brother left, I believe?Lovelace, Reginald M., Lieutenant Alexandra's Own, I.A. What does hethink of this?"

  "Of which?" I fenced, not knowing what else to say to this surprisingand disconcerting person. "You seem to know a good deal about people'sfamilies, Mr. Burke." This I thought was a good way of carrying the warinto the enemy's own country, "or to say you do."

  I added this with great emphasis. I meant him to realise that I sawthrough him. That I'd guessed it was all pure romancing what he had beenmurmuring yesterday to my unsuspecting little mistress about hisfriendship with her uncle.

  That would astonish this young fortune-hunter, thought I. That wouldleave him without a word to say for himself. And then he'd leave me.He'd turn and go, foiled. And even if he persisted in his attentions tothe dazzled Miss Million, he would remain in a very wholesome state ofterror of Miss Million's maid. This was what I foresaw happening in aflash. Picture my astonishment, therefore, at what did happen.

  The young man took me up without a quiver.

  "Ah, you mean that affecting little yarn about old man Million, inChicago, do
n't you?" he said pleasantly. "Very touching, you'll agree,the way I'd cling to his bedside and put up with his flares of temper,the dear old (Nature's) gentleman----"

  I would have given yet another quarter's salary not to have done what Idid at this moment. I laughed.

  That laugh escaped me--I don't know how. How awful! There I stood in thegallery, with only a sort of custodian and a couple of art-studentsabout, laughing up at this well-dressed, showy, unprincipled Irishman asif we were quite friends! I who disapproved of him so utterly! I whomean to do all in my power to keep him and Million's money apart!

  He said: "Didn't I know you had a sense of humour? Let us continue thisvery interesting conversation among the Polar landscapes downstairs.That's what I came in here to see. We'll sit and admire the groups ofpenguins among the icebergs while we talk."

  "No; I don't think we will," said I. I didn't mean to do anything thisyoung man meant me to. I wasn't Million, to be hypnotised by his looksand his clothes and his honeyed Irish voice, forsooth. "I don't care tosee those photographs. Not a bit like the Pole, probably. I am notcoming down, Mr. Burke."

  "Ah, come along," he persisted, smiling at me as he stood at the top ofthe stairs that led to the other exhibition. "Be a good little girl andcome, now!"

  "Certainly not," I said, with considerable emphasis on the "not."

  I repeated steadily: "I am not coming. I have nothing to talk to youabout. And, really, I think I have seen quite enough----"

  "Of you!" was my unspoken ending to this sentence. These "asides" seemto sprinkle one's conversations with words written, as it were, ininvisible ink. How seldom can one publish them abroad, these mentalconclusions of one's remarks! No, no; life is quite complicated enoughwithout that.... So I concluded, rather lamely, looking round thegallery with the drawings of Orientalised Europeans: "I have seen quiteenough of this exhibition. So I am going----"

  "To have tea, of course. That is a very sound scheme of yours, MissLovelace," said Mr. Burke briskly but courteously. "You'll let me havethe pleasure of taking you somewhere, won't you?"

  "Certainly not," I said again. This time the emphasis was on the"certainly." Then, as I was turning to leave the gallery, I looked againat this Mr. Burke. He may be what my far-away brother Reggie would call"a wrong 'un." And I believe that he is. But he is certainly a verypresentable-looking wrong 'un--far more presentable than I, BeatriceLovelace, am--was, I mean. Thank goodness, and my mistress's salary,there is absolutely no fault to be found with my entirely plain blackoutdoor things. And, proportionately, I have spent more of the money onmy boots, gloves, and neckwear than on the other part of my turn-out.There's some tradition in our family of Lady Anastasia's having laiddown this law. It is quite "sound," as Mr. Burke called it.

  Now this presentable-looking but otherwise very discreditable Mr. Burkewas quite capable of following me wherever I went. And if there is onething I should loathe it is any kind of "fuss" in a public place. So, Ithought swiftly, perhaps the best way of avoiding this fuss is to goquietly--but forbiddingly--to have tea. I needn't let him pay for it.So I said coldly to the big young man at my heels in the entrance: "I amgoing to Blank's."

  "Oh, no," said Mr. Burke pleasantly, "we are going to White's. Don't youlike White's?"

  I had never been there in my life, of course, but I did not tell himso.