The Sea Lady
Page 4
CHAPTER THE FOURTH
THE QUALITY OF PARKER
I
So far I have been very full, I know, and verisimilitude has been mywatchword rather than the true affidavit style. But if I have made itclear to the reader just how the Sea Lady landed and just how it waspossible for her to land and become a member of human society withoutany considerable excitement on the part of that society, such poor painsas I have taken to tint and shadow and embellish the facts at mydisposal will not have been taken in vain. She positively and quietlysettled down with the Buntings. Within a fortnight she had reallysettled down so thoroughly that, save for her exceptional beauty andcharm and the occasional faint touches of something a little indefinablein her smile, she had become a quite passable and credible human being.She was a cripple, indeed, and her lower limb was most patheticallyswathed and put in a sort of case, but it was quite generallyunderstood--I am afraid at Mrs. Bunting's initiative--that presently_they_--Mrs. Bunting said "they," which was certainly almost as far oreven a little farther than legitimate prevarication may go--would be aswell as ever.
She positively and quietly settled down with theBuntings.]
"Of course," said Mrs. Bunting, "she will never be able to _bicycle_again----"
That was the sort of glamour she threw about it.
II
In Parker it is indisputable that the Sea Lady found--or at least hadfound for her by Mrs. Bunting--a treasure of the richest sort. Parkerwas still fallaciously young, but she had been maid to a lady fromIndia who had been in a "case" and had experienced and overcomecross-examination. She had also been deceived by a young man, whom shehad fancied greatly, only to find him walking out with another--contraryto her inflexible sense of correctness--in the presence of which allother things are altogether vain. Life she had resolved should have nofurther surprises for her. She looked out on its (largely improper)pageant with an expression of alert impartiality in her hazel eyes,calm, doing her specific duty, and entirely declining to participatefurther. She always kept her elbows down by her side and her handsalways just in contact, and it was impossible for the most powerfulimagination to conceive her under any circumstances as being anythingbut absolutely straight and clean and neat. And her voice was alwaysunder all circumstances low and wonderfully distinct--just to aninfinitesimal degree indeed "mincing."
Mrs. Bunting had been a little nervous when it came to the point. It wasMrs. Bunting of course who engaged her, because the Sea Lady was soentirely without experience. But certainly Mrs. Bunting's nervousnesswas thrown away.
"You understand," said Mrs. Bunting, taking a plunge at it, "that--thatshe is an invalid."
"I _didn't_, Mem," replied Parker respectfully, and evidently quitewilling to understand anything as part of her duty in this world.
"In fact," said Mrs. Bunting, rubbing the edge of the tableclothdaintily with her gloved finger and watching the operation withinterest, "as a matter of fact, she has a mermaid's tail."
"Mermaid's tail! Indeed, Mem! And is it painful at all?"
"Oh, dear, no, it involves no inconvenience--nothing. Except--youunderstand, there is a need of--discretion."
"Of course, Mem," said Parker, as who should say, "there always is."
"We particularly don't want the servants----"
"The lower servants-- No, Mem."
"You understand?" and Mrs. Bunting looked up again and regarded Parkercalmly.
"Precisely, Mem!" said Parker, with a face unmoved, and so they came tothe question of terms. "It all passed off _most_ satisfactorily," saidMrs. Bunting, taking a deep breath at the mere memory of that moment.And it is clear that Parker was quite of her opinion.
She was not only discreet but really clever and handy. From the veryoutset she grasped the situation, unostentatiously but very firmly. Itwas Parker who contrived the sort of violin case for It, and who madethe tea gown extension that covered the case's arid contours. It wasParker who suggested an invalid's chair for use indoors and in thegarden, and a carrying chair for the staircase. Hitherto Fred Buntinghad been on hand, at last even in excessive abundance, whenever the SeaLady lay in need of masculine arms. But Parker made it clear at oncethat that was not at all in accordance with her ideas, and so earned thelifelong gratitude of Mabel Glendower. And Parker too spoke out fordrives, and suggested with an air of rightness that left nothing else tobe done, the hire of a carriage and pair for the season--to the equaldelight of the Buntings and the Sea Lady. It was Parker who dictated thedaily drive up to the eastern end of the Leas and the Sea Lady'stransfer, and the manner of the Sea Lady's transfer, to the bath chairin which she promenaded the Leas. There seemed to be nowhere that it waspleasant and proper for the Sea Lady to go that Parker did not swiftlyand correctly indicate it and the way to get to it, and there seems tohave been nothing that it was really undesirable the Sea Lady should doand anywhere that it was really undesirable that she should go, thatParker did not at once invisibly but effectively interpose a bar. It wasParker who released the Sea Lady from being a sort of private andpeculiar property in the Bunting household and carried her off to abecoming position in the world, when the crisis came. In little thingsas in great she failed not. It was she who made it luminous that the SeaLady's card plate was not yet engraved and printed ("Miss DorisThalassia Waters" was the pleasant and appropriate name with which theSea Lady came primed), and who replaced the box of the presumably dankand drowned and dripping "Tom" by a jewel case, a dressing bag and thefirst of the Sea Lady's trunks.
On a thousand little occasions this Parker showed a sense of proprietythat was penetratingly fine. For example, in the shop one day when"things" of an intimate sort were being purchased, she suddenlyintervened.
"There are stockings, Mem," she said in a discreet undertone, behind,but not too vulgarly behind, a fluttering straight hand.
"_Stockings!_" cried Mrs. Bunting. "But----!"
"I think, Mem, she should have stockings," said Parker, quietly but veryfirmly.
And come to think of it, why _should_ an unavoidable deficiency in alady excuse one that can be avoided? It's there we touch the veryquintessence and central principle of the proper life.
But Mrs. Bunting, you know, would never have seen it like that.
III
Let me add here, regretfully but with infinite respect, one other thingabout Parker, and then she shall drop into her proper place.
I must confess, with a slight tinge of humiliation, that I pursued thisyoung woman to her present situation at Highton Towers--maid she is tothat eminent religious and social propagandist, the Lady Jane Glanville.There were certain details of which I stood in need, certain scenes andconversations of which my passion for verisimilitude had scarcely acrumb to go upon. And from first to last, what she must have seen andlearnt and inferred would amount practically to everything.
I put this to her frankly. She made no pretence of not understanding menor of ignorance of certain hidden things. When I had finished sheregarded me with a level regard.
"I couldn't think of it, sir," she said. "It wouldn't be at allaccording to my ideas."
"But!--It surely couldn't possibly hurt you now to tell me."
"I'm afraid I couldn't, sir."
"It couldn't hurt anyone."
"It isn't that, sir."
"I should see you didn't lose by it, you know."
She looked at me politely, having said what she intended to say.
And, in spite of what became at last very fine and handsome inducements,that remained the inflexible Parker's reply. Even after I had come toan end with my finesse and attempted to bribe her in the grossestmanner, she displayed nothing but a becoming respect for my impregnablesocial superiority.
"I couldn't think of it, sir," she repeated. "It wouldn't be at allaccording to my ideas."
And if in the end you should find this story to any extent vague orincomplete, I trust you will remember how the inflexible severity ofParker's ideas stood in my way.