by Berta Ruck
CHAPTER XXVI
MISS MILLION IN LOVE
AT last I have been allowed to get to the bottom of what thisextraordinary place, the "Refuge," really is!
It is no more a lunatic asylum, of course, than it is a nunnery.
It started life by being a big Sussex farmhouse.
Then some truly enterprising person took it on as a lodging-house forsummer visitors, also for a tea-garden for motorists.
Then it happened that England's premier comedienne, Miss Vi Vassity, whowas motoring through on her way from a week-end at Brighton, saw theplace. She fell in love with it as the fulfilment of one of her dreams.
It appeared that she has always wanted to set up a lodging-house forhard-up theatrical girls who are what they call "resting," that is, outof a job for the moment.
I have picked up from Million and from the others that London's Love hasthe kindest heart in all London for those members of her profession whohave been less successful than she has. She has a hundred pensioners;she is simply besieged with begging-letters. It is a wonder that thereis any of her own salary left for this bright-haired, sharp-tonguedartiste to live on!
Well, to cut a long story short, she bought the place. Here it is,crammed full of stage girls and women of one sort and another, mostlyfrom the music-halls. The woman with the hair is Miss Alethea Ashton,the "serio." The honey-blonde in the dressing-jacket, who sat at oneside of me at dinner, is "Marmora, the Twentieth Century Hebe," whorenders classic poses or "breathing marbles."
The tiny, gipsy-looking one on my other side is Miss Verry Verry, theboy impersonator, who appears in man-o'-war suits and sailor hats. Thereis a snake-charmer lady and a ventriloquist's assistant, and I have notyet been able to discover who all the others were.
Miss Vi Vassity lets those pay her who can. The others owe "until theirship comes in"; but the mistress of the place keeps a shrewd thoughkindly eye on all their doings, and she comes down at least once a weekherself to make sure that all is well with "Refuge" and "Refugettes."
The secret of her sudden pilgrimage into Sussex the other night was thatshe had received a telephone message at the club of The Thousand and OneNights to inform her of still another arrival at the "Refuge." This wasthe infant daughter of the ventriloquist's assistant, who is also theventriloquist's wife. This event seems to have come off some weeksbefore it was expected. And at the time the "Refuge" was short ofdomestic service; there was no one to wait on the nurse who had beenhastily summoned. The house was at sixes and sevens....
In a fever of hurry Miss Vi Vassity went down, taking with her avolunteer who said she loved little babies and would do anything to "bea bit of a help" in the house.
This volunteer was the little heiress, who still kept, under all her newand silken splendour, the heart of the good-natured, helpful "littleMillion" from the Soldiers' Orphanage and the Putney kitchen.
I might have spared myself all my nervous anxiety about LordFourcastles! It seems a bad dream now.
She had motored off then and there with the head of the "Refuge,"without even waiting to wire from town. Only when they neared theirdestination had she thought of sending off a message to me, with theaddress where I was to follow her. That message had probably been tossedinto the hedgerow by the tramp to whom it had been hastily entrusted.
Hence my anxiety and suspense, which Miss Million declared had beennothing compared to her own!
Of course, people who have given terrible frights to their friendsalways insist upon it that it is they who have been the frightened ones!
But all this, of course, was what I picked up by degrees, and inincoherent patches, later on.
Many things had happened before I really got to the rights of the story.One scene after another has been flicked on to the screen of myexperiences ... but to take things in order.
Perhaps I had better go back to where I was unpacking Million's thingsin the transformed farmhouse bedroom, and where I was confronted with afresh anxiety.
Namely, that the wealthy and ingenuous and inexperienced Million reallyhad fallen in love with that handsome ne'er-do-weel, Mr. James Burke.
"Have you?" I persisted. "Have you?"
Million gave a little admitting sigh. She sat there on the edge of thedimity bed, and watched me shake out that detested evening frock inwhich she had motored down.
She has got it so crumpled that I shall make it the excuse never to lether wear it again.
"The Honourable Mr. Burke," said Million, with a far-away look in hereyes, "is about the handsomest gentleman that I have ever seen."
"I daresay," I said quite severely. "Certainly there is no denying theHonourable Jim's good looks. Part of his stock-in-trade! But you know,Miss Million"--here I brought out the eternal copy-book maxim--"Handsomeis as handsome does!"
Hereupon Million voiced the sentiment that I had always cherished myselfconcerning that old proverb.
"It may be true. But then, it always seems to me, somehow, as if it wasneither here nor there!"
I didn't know what to say. It seemed so very evident that Million hadset her innocent and affectionate heart on a young man who wasgood-looking enough in his Celtic, sooty-haired, corn-cockle, blue-eyedway, but who really had nothing else to recommend him. Everything to besaid against him, in fact. Insincere, unscrupulous, cynical, unreliable;everything that's bad, bad, BAD!
"You can't say he isn't a gentleman, now," put in Million again, with adefiant shake of her little dark head. "That you can't say."
"Well, I don't know. It depends," I said, in a very sermonising voice."It all depends upon what you call 'a gentleman.'"
"No, it doesn't," contradicted Miss Million unexpectedly. "You knowyourself it doesn't depend upon 'what you call' anything. Either he is,or he isn't. That Auntie of yours would ha' told you that. And stuck-upand stand-offish and a perfect terror as she was, she'd have been thefirst to admit that the Honourable Mr. Burke was one of her own sort!"
I couldn't help smiling a little. Million had hit it. This would havebeen exactly Aunt Anastasia's attitude!
"And don't you remember what my great wish always was? Whenever therewas a new moon, or anything," Million reminded me, "you used to wantmoney and nice clothes. But there was something I wanted--quitedifferent. I wanted to marry a gentleman. I--I still want it!"
Her underlip quivered as she gazed out of the lattice-window at thepeaceful bare Sussex landscape. Her grey eyes were full of tears and ofdreams. As for me, I felt half-sorrowful for her, half-furious with theHon. Jim; the person whom nobody but a perfect innocent, like Million,would dream of liking or taking seriously!... Reprobate! He ought to behorsewhipped!
I remembered his whimsical horror in that tea-shop when he had exclaimedto me: "Marry her? Marry a girl with hands like that, or a voice likethat?" Yet he had made "a girl with a voice like that" dreamily in lovewith him. Really my heart swelled quite passionately with resentmentagainst him.
I wondered how far he had been trifling with her honest heart, bothyesterday night at the Thousand and One Club, and this morning at lunchat the "Refuge." He was quite capable of doing one of two despicablethings. Either of flirting desperately and then riding away; or, ofmarrying her in spite of what he had said, and then neglectingeverything about her but her income! Which was he going to do, Iwondered.
"Million! Miss Million," I said hastily. "Do you mind telling me if Mr.Burke has proposed to you?"
Million looked down, showing the dark half-moons of her eyelashes on hercheeks in a way that I knew she had copied from one of the "CellandineNovelettes" which used to be her favourite reading in Putney. She heaveda deep sigh. And then she said: "Well! Between you and I, he hasn'tspoken yet."
"Yet? Do you mean--do you think he is going to?" I said sharply.
A smile grew over Million's small and bonny face. I must say I think shegrows better-looking every day. Why should the Honourable Jim have madethat unkind remark about her hands? Her face i
s prettier, probably, thanthose of half the wealthy girls he meets. Especially when she dimpleslike that.
She said demurely: "Do you know, I don't think any one can expect anyone not to notice when any one is getting really fond of any one!"
This involved sentence meant, I knew, the worst.
It meant that she thought the Honourable Jim was going to ask her tomarry him! And she must have some good reason for thinking so! Or he'san incorrigible flirt, one of the two!
"If he does ask you to marry him," I pursued, feeling as if I were amixture of a schoolmistress and Million's own mother combined, "do youthink you are going to say yes you will?"
"Do I think?" echoed Million ardently. "I don't 'think' anything aboutit. I just know I will!"
Oh, dear! Ever since I have been Miss Million's maid I have seemed toget from one difficulty into another. It is worse than ever now that Iknow for certain that the poor little thing imagines she is going tomarry Mr. Burke. She won't ever be happy, even if he does marry her forher money.
But, stop! There is another thing. Her money?
Supposing her money does go? Well, then, the handsome Irishman will jilther quite mercilessly. I know enough about him to know that! And I havea horrible presentiment that this is exactly what is going to happen.That shrewd-eyed young American downstairs, Mr. Hiram P. Jessop, willbring an action to recover for himself all Miss Million's dollars. Hewill walk off with the fortune. And my mistress, poor little creature,will be left without either money or love!
As for me, I shall lose my place. I, too, shan't know what todo--unless----
Oh, yes. There is always one thing I can do. I shall marry. There is theproposal of Mr. Reginald Brace, who begged me to say yes to him when hegets back from Paris.
Thinking over it, I am pretty sure that that is what I shall say.
Really it will be a rest to turn to something as simple andstraightforward as Mr. Reginald Brace after all the complications withwhich my life has been beset up till now. So that disposes of me,Beatrice Lovelace. But what about Nellie Million?
All these reflections passed through my mind in Million's bedroom at the"Refuge," all the time I was putting the finishing touches to her beforeshe went down to meet her cousin (and incidentally the man who was goingto rob her of her fortune), Mr. Hiram P. Jessop.
Well, she looked bonny enough to make him feel some compunction aboutit, that I would say! The brown taffeta skirt and the new blouse, theleaf-brown suede shoes and the silk stockings that I had brought downwith me, all suited her admirably.
And besides being becomingly dressed, there was something still morepotently attractive about Million's appearance.
It was that flush and glow and sparkle, that aura that seems to clingabout a woman in love. I had heard before that there is no beautyculture in the world that can give a woman just that look and that it isabsolutely the most unfailing beautifier. Now I saw with my own dismayedeyes that it was but too true.
Nellie Million, ex-maid-of-all-work, had fallen in love with LordBallyneck's graceless younger son. The result, so far, was to improveher looks as much as my hairdressing and the Bond Street shopping forher had done already.
She was impatient to go down. This, I knew, was not on the new cousin'saccount. Poor child, she wanted to rejoin the Honourable Jim!
"But you've got to come with me, Smith, you know," she said, as shereached the door. "Yes, you have. You have got to introduce me, and bebothered to your only being my lady's-maid! There isn't much of thatsort of thing at the 'Refuge,' as I can tell you. See how nice andhomely Vi Vassity was about having you sit down with all of us atdinner?"
I suppressed a smile at the idea of this condescension.
"Besides, he seems to know you pretty well, does my cousin," said littleMiss Million. "And I tell you, Smith, you may be very useful. Talking tohim and keeping him out of the way when Mr. Burke might want to behaving a few words with me, do you see?"
I saw, and my heart sank with dismay. There were fearful complicationsahead. I saw myself later on with Miss Million sobbing over a world thathad crashed into disillusionment just as one of my Aunt Anastasia'spriceless Nankin bowls had once come to pieces in her hand!
Still, I thought, I had better go down and see with my own eyes as muchof the tragedy as it was possible. I thought that the first act of itmight be even rather humorous. Both these young men trying to talk toMillion at once, and Million herself giving all her attention to theyoung man who was the least good to her!
We came down into the sitting-room of the "Refuge." It seemed furnishedchiefly with wicker chairs, and brilliant houseboat cushions and verystagey-looking photographs with huge autographs, put at right angles toeverything else. When we came down to this retreat we found that it wasoccupied only by Miss Vi Vassity, leaning back very comfortably in adeck-chair, and blowing smoke rings from the cigarette that was fastenedinto a tiny silver holder, while opposite to her there was seated,looking very conscientious and gravely interested, my mistress'sAmerican cousin, Mr. Hiram P. Jessop himself.
"Why, where is Mr. Burke got to?" said Million, with a note ofunmistakable disappointment in her voice.
I knew that the poor little thing had been overwhelmingly anxious toshow herself off once more befittingly dressed before the blue,black-lashed eyes that had last beheld her in somebody else's far toovoluminous garments. "I thought he was still with you, Vi?"
Miss Vi Vassity gave a shrewd, amused laugh.
"Not here, not here, my child!" she quoted lazily. "Our friend Jim saidhe had got to push on up to London. He left plenty of messages and kindloves and so forth for you. And you needn't go bursting yourself withanxiety that he won't be turning up here again before we are any of usmuch older or younger (seeing the jobs some of us have got to keep offthe enemy). He'll be down again presently all right. However, one off,another on. Here is a new boy for you to play with, Nellie. Says he's acousin of yours," with a wave of her cigarette towards Mr. Jessop, whohad now risen to his very Americanly booted feet. "I believe it's true,too," rattled on Miss Vassity. "He looks to me altogether too wide awaketo work off an old wheeze like 'cousins' if it were not a true one.Well, cheery-oh, children. I am just off to see if poor Maudie upstairshas had her gruel. I will leave you to fall into each other's arms. Comealong, Miss Smith. I daresay I can get that nurse to let you have a lookat the new little nipper if you are keen."
I had been standing all this time, of course, examining the photographsinscribed "Yours to a cinder, Archie," and "To darling Vi, from herfaithful old pal, Gertie."
Now I moved quickly towards the door which Miss Vi Vassity had swungopen.
But my mistress, with a quick little movement, stopped me. "Smith, don'tyou go. Vi, I don't want her to go," she protested. "She can pop up andsee that baby afterwards, when it is being bathed. I want her now tostop and talk to this Mr. Jessop with me. I shan't feel so nervousthen," she added, with her little giggle.
"Please yourselves," said "London's Love," with a laugh and a little nodfor her exit. We three were left alone in the sitting-room.
I really think it is wonderful the way Americans will burst at once intoa flood of friendliness that it will take the average young Englishmanat least three or four years of intimate acquaintance to achieve.
And even then I doubt whether the average young Englishman (take, forexample, my prospective fiance, Mr. Reginald Brace) would ever be ableto "let himself go" like they do! Never had I heard such a stream ofearnestly spoken compliments, accompanied by glances of suchunmistakable admiration, as young Mr. Jessop immediately proceeded tolavish on Miss Million.
He told her, if I can remember correctly the sequence of his remarks:"That he was real delighted to make her acquaintance; that he hadsomehow fixed it up in his mind already that she would be a real, sweetlittle girl when he got to know her, and that even he hadn't calculatedwhat a little Beaut she was going to turn out----"
"Oh, listen to him! If it isn't another of them!" exclaimed the artlessMi
llion, all blushes and smiles as she turned to me; I felt as if I werea referee in some game of which I wasn't quite certain about the rules.
Mr. Jessop went on to inform his cousin that she had the real, English,peach-bloom complexion that was so much admired in the States; only thatshe did her hair so much better than the way most English girls seemedto fix theirs.
Here I nearly dropped a little curtsey. The arrangement of Million'sdark, glossy hair stands to my credit!
"There's a style about your dressing that I like, too. So real simpleand girlish," approved Mr. Jessop, with his eyes on the faultlessly cut,tobacco-brown taffeta that had cost at least four times as much as theelaborately thought-out crime in cerise which should have been onMillion's conscience. "I must say you take my breath away with yourpretty looks, Cousin Nellie; you do, indeed. If I may say so, you appearto be the sort of little girl that any one might be thankful to have tocherish as the regular little queen of the home."
Hereupon Million glowed as pink as any of the roses that were spreadingtheir sweetness abroad on the warm afternoon air outside the gailycurtained window.
"Doesn't that sound lovely!" she exclaimed.
There was a wistfulness in her voice. I was afraid I knew only too wellwhat that wistfulness portended if I could read Million at all (and Ireally think I ought to be able to now). That wistfulness meant "Howmuch lovelier it would be if the Honourable Jim Burke had been the oneto pay me that compliment about being the queen of the home!"
Then she added to the young American, whose boyish eyes were fixedunflinchingly upon her: "Do you know, I am afraid you are an awfulflatterer and deceiver. You are just trying to see how much I am goingto take in about you thinking me nice-looking and all that!"
If she could only have had these misgivings about Mr. Burke himself,instead of their being about the cousin who, I think, says very littlethat he does not really mean! Always the wrong people get credit forinsincerity! "I am not a flatterer, believe me," said Mr. Hiram P.Jessop. "If you think that I don't mean anything I say nice to you, why!I am going to be very sad. I would like to have only nice things to sayto you," he added regretfully, "and I tell you it is coming real hardon me--harder than I thought it would be, to have to say the difficultthings I have gotten to say now, Cousin Nellie."
So now he was coming to the business end of the interview! The partwhere he meant to tell Million that her appreciative and gallant cousinwas possibly going to walk off with that fortune of hers!
I rose from my chair. I said respectfully: "Shall I go, Miss, if Mr.Jessop is going to talk family affairs?"
