by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER III
MY SCHEME
I arrived home early in the afternoon.
"Dear mother," I said, "I had an interview with the Duchess of Wilmotand with Lady Thesiger. After seeing them both, I had not the heart togo on to any more of our friends. I will describe my interviewpresently, but I must talk on another matter now. Our undertaking willbe greatly prospered if our friends will stick to us and help us alittle. If, on the other hand, we are not to depend on them, thesooner we know it the better."
"What do you mean?" asked my mother.
"Well, of course, mother dear, we will have our boarding-house. I havethought of the exact sort of house we want. It must be very large andvery roomy, and the landlord must be willing to make certainimprovements which I will suggest to him. Our boarding-house will be asort of Utopia in its way, and people who come there will want to comeagain. We will charge good prices, but we will make our guests verycomfortable."
Mother clasped my hand.
"Oh, my dear, dear child," she said. "How little you know about whatyou are talking. We shall have an empty house; no one will come to us.Neither you nor I have the faintest idea how to manage. We shall notonly lose all the money we have, but we shall be up to our ears indebt. I do wish, Westenra, you would consider that simple littlecottage in the country."
"If it must come to our living within our means," I said slowly, "Ihave not the least doubt that the Duchess of Wilmot would allow me tolive with her as a sort of companion and amanuensis, and influencewould be brought to bear to get you rooms in Hampton Court; but wouldyou consent, mother darling, would you really consent that I shouldeat the bread of dependence, and that you should live partly oncharity?"
Mother coloured. She had a very delicate colour, and it always madeher look remarkably pretty. In her heart of hearts, I really do thinkshe was taken with the idea of Hampton Court. The ladies who lived inthose suites of apartments were more or less aristocratic, they wereat least all well connected, and she and they might have much incommon. It was, in her opinion, rather a distinction than otherwise tolive there, but I would have none of it.
"How old are you, mother?" I asked.
"Forty-three," she answered.
"Forty-three," I repeated. "Why, you are quite young, just in theprime of middle-age. What do you mean by sitting with your handsbefore you for the rest of your life? You are forty-three, and I amtwenty-one. Do you think for a single moment that able-bodied women,like ourselves, are to do nothing in the future; for if I did go tothe Duchess my post would be merely a sinecure, and you at HamptonCourt would vegetate, nothing more. Mother, you will come with me, andhelp me? We will disregard society; if society is ashamed of us, letit be ashamed, but we must find out, and I have a scheme to propose."
"You are so full of schemes, Westenra, you quite carry me away."
Dear mother looked bewildered, but at the same time proud of me. Ithink she saw gleaming in my eyes, which I know were bright and darklike my father's, some of that spirit which had carried him with aforlorn hope into the thickest of the fight, and which enabled him towin the Victoria Cross. There are a great many Victoria Crosses to besecured in this world, and girls can get and wear some of them.
"Now," I said, "we need not give up this house until the autumn. Thelandlord will then take it off our hands, and we shall move into ourBloomsbury mansion, but as I did not quite succeed to-day in knowingexactly how we stood with our friends, I propose that next week weshould give an 'At Home,' a very simple one, mother, nothing but teaand sweet cakes, and a few sandwiches, no ices, nothing expensive."
"My dear Westenra, just now, in the height of the season, would anyone come?"
"Yes, they will come, I will write to all the friends I know, and theywill come out of curiosity. We will invite them for this dayfortnight. I don't know any special one of our friends who has an 'AtHome' on the third Friday in the month. But let me get our 'At Home'book and see."
I looked it out, and after carefully examining the long list of ouracquaintances, proclaimed that I thought the third Friday in the monthwas a tolerably free day.
"We will ask them to come at three," I said, "a little early in theafternoon, so that those who do want to go on to friends afterwards,will have plenty of time."
"But why should they come, Westenra; why this great expense andtrouble, just when we are parting with them all, for if I go toHampton Court, or the country, or to that awful boarding-house ofyours, my poor child, my days in society are at an end."
"In one sense they are, mother, nevertheless, I mean to test ourfriends. People are very democratic in these days, and there is nosaying, but that I may be more the fashion than ever; but I don'twant to be the fashion, I want to get help in the task which is beforeme. Now, do hear me out."
Mother folded her hands in her lap. Her lips were quivering to speak,but I held her in control as it were. I stood before her making themost of my slender height, and spoke with emphasis.
"We will ask all our friends. Paul will wait on them, and Morris shalllet them in, and everything will be done in the old style, for we havejust the same materials we ever had to give a proper and fashionable'At Home,' but when they are all assembled, instead of a recitation,or music, I will jump up and stand in the middle of the room, andbriefly say what we mean to do. I will challenge our friends to leaveus, or to stick to us."
"Westenra, are you mad? I can never, never consent to this."
"It is the very best plan, and far less troublesome than going roundto everybody, and they will be slightly prepared, for the dear Duchesswill have mentioned something of what I said this morning to herfriends, and I know she will come. She won't mind visiting us herejust once again, and Jasmine will come, and--and many other people,and we will put the thing to the test. Yes, mother, this day fortnightthey shall come, and I will write the invitations to-night, andto-morrow you and I will go to Bloomsbury and look for a suitablehouse, for by the time they come, mother, the house will have beentaken, and I hope the agreement made out, and the landlord will havebeen consulted, and he will make the improvements I suggest and willrequire. It is a big thing, mother, a great big venture for two lonewomen like ourselves, but we will succeed, darling, we _must_succeed."
"You are a rock of strength, West," she answered, half proudly, halfsadly, "you are just like your father."
That night I sent out the invitations. They were ordinary notes ofinvitation, for on second thoughts I resolved not to prepare our manyacquaintances beforehand. "Mrs. Wickham at home on such a day,"nothing more.
I posted the letters and slept like a top that night, and in themorning awoke with the tingling sensation which generally comes overme when I have a great deal to do, and when there is an important andvery interesting matter at stake. I used to feel like that at timeswhen I was at school. On the day when I won the big scholarship, andwas made a sort of queen of by the other girls, I had the sensationvery strongly, and I felt like it also when a terrible illness whichmother had a few years ago came to a crisis, and her precious life layin the balance. Here was another crisis in my career, almost the mostimportant which had come to me yet, and I felt the old verve and theold strong determination to conquer fate. Fate at present was againstme, but surely I was a match for it: I was young, strong, clever, andI had a certain _entree_ into society which might or might not helpme. If society turned its back on me, I could assuredly do without it.If, on the other hand, it smiled on me, success was assured inadvance.
I ran downstairs to breakfast in the best of spirits. I had put on myvery prettiest white dress, and a white hat trimmed with soft silk andfeathers.
"Why, Westenra, dressed already?" said mother.
"Yes, and you must dress too quickly, Mummy. Oh, there is Paul. Paul,we shall want the victoria at ten o'clock."
Paul seemed accustomed to this order now. He smiled and vanished. Noneof our servants knew that their tenure with us was ended, that withina very short time mother and I would know the soft things of l
ife nomore. We were dragging out our last delicious days in the Land ofLuxury; we were soon to enter the Land of Hard Living, the Land ofEndeavour, the Land of Struggle. Might it not be a better, a morebracing life than our present one? At least it would be a moreinteresting life, of that I made sure, even before I plunged into itsdepths.
Mother ate her breakfast quite with appetite, and soon afterwards wewere driving in the direction of Bloomsbury.
Jenkins, who had lived with us for years, and who had as a matter ofcourse imbibed some of the aristocratic notions of our neighbourhood,almost turned up his nose when we told him to stop at the house of awell-known agent in Bloomsbury. He could not, like the Duchess ofWilmot, confess that he did not know where Bloomsbury was, but heevidently considered that something strange and by no means _comme ilfaut_ had occurred.
Presently we reached our destination, it was only half-past ten.
"Won't you get out, mother?" I asked as I sprang to the pavement.
"Is it necessary, dear child?" replied mother.
"I think it is," I answered; "you ought to appear in this matter, I amtoo young to receive the respect which I really merit, but with you tohelp me--oh, you will do _exactly_ what I tell you, won't you?"
"My dear girl!"
"Yes, Mummy, you will, you will."
I took her hand, and gave it a firm grip, and we went into thehouse-agent's together.
