The Duchess of Wrexe, Her Decline and Death; A Romantic Commentary

by Sir Hugh Walpole

  CHAPTER V

  SHE COMES OUT

  I

  Downstairs the dinner-party was at its height. Mrs. Newton, thehousekeeper, went softly down the passages to give one last glimpse atthe ballroom. There it lay, like a great golden shell, empty, expectant.The walls were white, the ceilings gold; on the white walls hung theLelys, the Van Dycks, and at the farther end of the room Sargent'sportrait of Her Grace, brought up, for this especial occasion, from theLong Drawing-room. There was the gleaming, shining floor, there thegolden chairs with their backs against the wall, and there before eachpicture a little globe of golden flame ministering to its beauties,throwing the proud pale faces of the old Beaminsters into scornfulrelief, and none of them so scornful as that Duchess in the fardistance, frowning from her golden frame.

  Mrs. Newton was plump and important. She worshipped the Beaminsterfamily, and it yielded her now intense satisfaction to see these rooms,that were used so seldom, given to their proper glory and ceremony. Fora moment as she stood there and felt the fine reflection of all thatlight upon the shining floor, absorbed the silence and the space and thecolour, she was uplifted with pride, and thanked her God that she wasnot as other women were, but had been permitted by Him to assist in nosmall measure in the glories and splendours of this great family.

  Then, with a little sigh of satisfied approval, she softly walked awayagain.

  II

  Two hours later Rachel Beaminster, standing a little behind her aunt,saw the people pressing up the stairs. To those who watched her, sheseemed perfectly composed, her flushed cheeks, her white dress, her darkhair and eyes gave her distinction against the colour and movement ofthe room.

  Her eyes were a little stern, and her body was held proudly, but herhands moved with sharp spasmodic movements against her dress.

  As she stood there men were brought up to her in constant succession andintroduced. They wrote their names on her programme, bowed and wentaway. She smiled at each one of them. Before dinner she had beenintroduced to the Prince--German, fat and cheerful--and the second danceof the evening was to be with him. Some of the men who had been diningin the house she already knew--Lord Crewner, Roddy Seddon, LordMassiter, and others--and once or twice now the faces that were led upto her were familiar to her.

  The great ballroom seemed to be already filled with people, and stillthey came pressing up the stairs.

  Rachel was miserably unhappy. For one moment before she had left herroom, where her maid had stood admiringly beside her, when she herselfhad seen the reflection of the white dress and the dark hair and theflushed cheeks in the long mirror, for one great moment she had beenfilled with exaltation. This ball, this agitation, this excitement wasall for her. The world was at her feet. The locked doors were at lastrolling open before her and all life was to be revealed.

  Pearls that Uncle John had given her were her only ornament. Theylaughed at her from the mirror, laughed and promised her success,conquest, glory. Life at that instant was very precious.

  But, alas! the dinner had been a terrible failure. She had sat betweenLord Crewner and Lord Massiter, and had no word to say to either ofthem. Lord Massiter was middle-aged and hearty and kind, and he had donehis best for her, but she had been paralysed. They had talked to herabout the opera, the theatres, hunting, books, Munich; she had had agreat deal to say about all these things, and she had said nothing.Always within her there seemed to be rivalry between the Beaminsterway of saying things and the other way. When Lord Crewner said to her,"What I like in music is a real cheerful little piece that one can go toafter dinner, you know," there were a whole number of Beaminsterobservations to make. But as soon as they rose to her mouth somethingwithin her whispered, "You know that you don't mean that. That's atsecond hand. Give him your opinion." And then that seemed presumption,so she said nothing.

  It was all wretched and quite endless. Uncle John sent her encouragingsmiles every now and again, but she felt that he must be disappointed ather failure. The food choked her. The tears filled her eyes and it washer pride only that saved her. Through it all she felt that hergrandmother upstairs in her bedroom was planning this.

  Afterwards the Princess, seeing perhaps that she was unhappy, was kindand motherly to her, and told her funny stories about her childhood inBerlin. But all the time Rachel was saying to herself, "You're a fool.You're a fool. You've got no self-control at all."

  She had been dreading the introductions to so many young men, but shefound that that was easy enough. They were not young men; they weresimply numbers on her programme and they vanished as soon as they came.

  Then the band in the distance began to play an extra, whilst the youngmen wandered about and discovered their friends, and the sound of themusic cheered her. It amused her now to watch the people as they mountedthe stairs. She noticed that all the faces were grave and preoccupieduntil a moment before the arrival at Aunt Adela, and then a smile wastightly fastened on, held for a moment, and then dropped to give way tothe preoccupation again.

  The room was so full now that it seemed that it would be quiteimpossible for any dancing to take place. Uncle John was working veryhard at introducing people to one another, and as she saw hisgood-natured face and his white hair her heart went out to him. Ifeveryone were as kind as Uncle John how nice the world would be!Meanwhile her eyes anxiously watched the stairs, and as every womanturned the corner at the bottom the question was--"Was this MayEversley?"

  There had been a battle about May. Aunt Adela did not like her,disapproved of her, would not hear of inviting her. Very well, then,Rachel would not come to the ball at all. They could give the ball forsomebody else. If May were not asked Rachel would not come.

  So Lady Eversley and May had both been asked, and of course they hadaccepted.

  Rachel waited and gazed and was continually disappointed. The extra wasover and soon the first dance would begin; with the second dance wouldarrive the Prince and Rachel would have no talk with May at all. It wastoo bad of May to be late. She had promised so faithfully--Ah! there shewas with her air of one confidently conducting a most difficultcampaign. She mounted the stairs like a general, gave Lady Adela thetiniest of smiles, and was at Rachel's side.

  That clasp of May's hand filled Rachel's body with confident happiness.May's hardy self-control, her discipline derived from some stern oldPuritans, dim centuries away, was all waiting there at Rachel's service.

  "How late you are!"

  "Mother was such a time. And then we couldn't get a cab. How are you,Rachel?"

  "Dinner was terrible--all wrong. I hadn't a word to say to anyone. I'mbetter now that you've come."

  "Is the Prince here?"

  "Yes. I'm dancing the next dance with him. The Princess was very kindafter dinner. Oh! May, dinner was a disaster, an absolute disaster!"

  "Not nearly so bad as you thought, you may be sure. Things always seemso much worse."

  And now May had been discovered. Gentlemen young and old dangled theirprogrammes in front of her, were received, were dismissed. May had theair of a general, sitting fiercely in his tent and receiving reportsfrom his officers as to the progress in the field. Confident young menwere instantly timid before her.

  The first dance was over. Against the white splendour vivid colours wereflung and withdrawn. Threads and patterns crossed and recrossed, andthen presently the glittering floor was waste and deserted; on itssurface was reflected dark gold from the shining walls.

  The second dance came, and with it the Prince. Rachel had now lost allsense of the ball having been given in any way for herself. The dancing,it comforted her to see, was not of the very best, and at once she foundthat she had herself nothing to fear. The Prince danced well, and soonshe was lost to all sense of everything save the immediate joy of rhythmand balance, and the perfect spontaneity of the music and her body'sacknowledgment of it.

  When it came to an end, and they were sitting in a corner, somewhere, hewas a fat middle-aged man again, and she Rachel Beaminster, but she knewnow fo
r what life was intended.

  After that, for a long period, her dancers did not concern her. Theywere there simply to supply her with that ecstasy of rhythm andmovement. Sometimes they could not supply her because they were baddancers, and one of her partners was indeed so bad that she ruthlesslysuggested, after one turn round the room, that they should sit out. Thenshe sat in a room near at hand, irritated by the sound of that gloriousmusic, and paying very scant attention to the young man's stammeredapologies, his information about his experiences of Paris and the waythat he shot birds in Scotland.

  She was to go down to supper with Roddy Seddon, and she was waiting thatexperience with some curiosity. If her grandmother were so fond of him,then he must be a disagreeable young man, and yet his appearance was notdisagreeable.

  He looked as though, like Uncle John and Dr. Chris, he were one of thecomfortable people. Dr. Chris, by the way, had not arrived. He had toldher that he might not be able to escape until late hours.

  And so, as the evening advanced, her happiness grew; impossible now tounderstand that speechlessness at dinner, impossible to find reasons forthat earlier misery. She danced now both with Lord Massiter and withLord Crewner, and said exactly what she thought to both of them;impossible now to imagine anything but that the world was an enchanting,thrilling place especially invented for the happiness of Miss RachelBeaminster.

  III

  Uncle John had been promised a dance; his moment arrived. He had watchedher during the early part of the evening, and had been afraid that shewas not at all happy.

  She was so unlike other girls, and that first miserable hour seemed tohim the most tragic omen of her future career.

  "How is she _ever_ to get on if she takes things as badly as this? Iwish I could help her. I know so exactly how she must be feeling."

  But imagine him now confronted with a figure that shone with happiness,with success, with splendour!

  She caught his arm--"Come, Uncle John, we won't dance. We'll talk. Uphere--There's no one in this room."

  She ran ahead of him, found a corner for them both, and then, pushinghim on to a sofa, twisted round in front of him, turning on her toes,flashing laughter at him, sitting down at last beside him, and thenkissing him.

  "Oh, my dear! I'm so glad," he said. "I thought you were miserable."

  "So I was--at first--perfectly wretched. Now it's allsplendid--glorious!"

  This was to him an entirely new Rachel. In her movement, her excitement,her immediate glad acceptance of the life that an hour ago she hadfeared with such alarm, he perceived an element that was indeed foreignto all things Beaminster. And this new attitude reminded him withrenewed sharpness that he could not now hope to hold the old Rachel withthe intimate affection that had been his before. She was slipping fromhim--slipping ... even as he watched her, she was going.

  She laid her hand upon his arm: "Uncle John, I'm a success! I am really.I can dance, dance beautifully! I can put these young men in theirplaces. They're frightened!... really frightened."

  "Of course--you're lovely--the biggest success there's ever been. Butwhat was the matter with you at dinner?"

  "Yes. Wasn't that dreadful? Everything went wrong, and the only thing Icould think of was how glad grandmamma would be. I had a kind ofparalysis."

  Uncle John nodded his head. "I know exactly what it's like."

  "Well, I shall never let myself be so stupid again--never! I swear it!"They sat in silence for some time, she, restless, straining towards themusic, he a little overcome by her happiness.

  There was a pause between the dances and then the band began once more.

  "Have you danced with Roddy Seddon yet?"

  "No. What's he like?"

  "Oh! he's nice--you'll like him."

  "I don't expect to. He's a friend of grandmamma's. Hark! There's theband again!... Come along, back we go!"

  Smiling, radiant, she hung upon his arm. Afterwards, standing in adoorway, he watched her.

  He sighed. "What a selfish old pig I am!... But she'll never be mineagain."

  IV

  Uncle John held only for a moment Rachel's attention. No single personnow, but rather a gorgeous pattern that the whole evening was weavingabout her. She saw the lights, she heard the music, she felt themovement of her body, she gathered through a haze of happiness the facesof her uncles and Aunt Adela and others whom she knew, but now for thefirst time in her life she knew what happiness, happiness withoutthought, or doubt, or foreboding could be.

  Thus it was that she came to Roddy Seddon, who was certainly enjoyinghimself: this, however, was not the first ball of his life nor even, ifall the truth were known, his best. He had expected it to be solemn andsedate--you could not hope to find here the jolly kind of dance thatthey had had at the Menets', for instance, last week; that would not bepossible in a Beaminster household.

  It was all, to be honest, a little old-fashioned. Things were moving abit faster nowadays. Waltzes and Lancers were all very well, but onemight have had a cotillon, something unexpected! However, May Eversleyand one or two other girls had had the right kind of go about them. Hesmiled a little and tugged at his short bristling yellow moustache, andthen discovered that it was time to take Rachel Beaminster down tosupper.

  This event was of more than ordinary interest to him. He was perfectlyaware that most of his friends and relatives thought that it would be avery good thing for him to marry Rachel Beaminster. He was, himself, notscornful of this idea.

  He was thirty-two, and it was time that Seddon Court in Sussex had amistress; his life had been varied and exciting and it was right nowthat he should make some ties. There were a number of other reasons infavour of his marrying.

  As to Rachel Beaminster, she was not pretty, but she was interesting.She was unusual; moreover she was a Beaminster, and an alliance withthat ancient family would be, past dispute, a magnificent alliance. Butthe element in it all that intrigued him most was the fact that nobodycould tell him anything about Rachel, even May Eversley who knew her sowell was not sure about her. "You'll go on being surprised," she hadsaid.

  Surprise, indeed, was waiting for him this evening. On the few occasionsthat he had seen Rachel he had seen her grave, shy, a little awkward,most reserved. Now she met him as though she had known him for years,glowing, almost pretty, so burning were her eyes. At supper she laughed,called across the room to May, agreed with everything that everybodysaid, and with it all was younger than any girl that he had ever known.The girls who were Roddy's friends talked about life at times moreboldly than he would have talked with his men friends, and were, at allevents, for ever hinting at the things that they knew.

  Rachel hinted at nothing; she kept nothing back, she allowed him nodisguises.

  "Oh! don't I wish," she cried, "that this night could go on for everjust like this"--and he, taking the compliment to himself, agreed withher. He had expected to find someone haughty and cold, a young AuntAdela with a dash of foreign temper.

  He found someone entirely delightful. Afterwards, when they sat out on abalcony overlooking Portland Place, he was encouraged to talk abouthimself.

  "I like all this, you know," he said, waving his hand at the greymysterious street that the pale lamps so mournfully guarded. "I likethis air comin' along from the park. I'm all for the open, MissBeaminster--horses and dogs and rushin' along with the wind at yourback. It's a rippin' little place I've got down in Sussex. I hope you'llsee it one day--old as anything, with jolly Roman roads and such hangin'around, and the most spiffin' lot of gees. Look, the sun will be gettin'above the houses soon. I've seen some sunrises in my day. You ought tobe on the Downs at night, Miss Beaminster."

  Roddy was surprised at himself at the way that he was talking, but shereally looked quite beautiful there in the window with her dark hair andher eyes and white dress.

  "I can't tell you," she said, when it was time for them to part, "howmuch all you say interests me. I love horses too, and I adore dogs----"

  "I've got a dog I'd like y
ou to have," he began. "It's a----"

  "Oh no," she answered. "Aunt Adela would never let me keep one here.Thank you all the same. But you'll let me come down to Seddon Court oneday, won't you?"

  "Let you!" Roddy could find no words.

  She flung one glance at the square, where the dawn was beginning, andthen was back in the ballroom again, dancing, dancing, dancing....

  The sky was all pink above the roofs, and the birds were making a whirlof chattering, when her bedroom received her again.

  Her maid was sleepy but proud.

  "They all say it's been a great success, Miss Rachel."

  "Success!" She stood for a moment in the middle of the room with herarms extended. "Oh! It's been glorious, glorious. I've never----"

  She paused. Her arms fell to her sides--"Oh! Dr. Chris! Dr. Chris! Henever came--he said that he mightn't be able. It was the only thing thatwas wrong"--Then more slowly, as she moved to her dressing-table--"Andall the last part I never missed him."

  "Well, I dare say," said Lucy, standing behind Rachel's chair andstaring at the white face in the mirror, "that with his patients and therest he couldn't get away----"

  "Oh! But I ought to have missed him," said Rachel, and afterwards, lyingin bed, sleepless with excitement, it was Dr. Christopher's face thatshe saw.