The Master of the Ceremonies

“Well, mother, are you satisfied?” said Cora, as the evening went by.

“Satisfied? Oh, I don’t mind, my dear, so long as you get on. And you are, you know, sitting here among the big people, I say, Cory, I am proud of you.”

“That’s right, mother.”

“But I say, what did Colonel Mellersh say to you as he went to the card-table?”

“Asked me, as any gentleman would, whether he should take me down to have some refreshment.”

“Well, that was kind and neighbourly. I rather like him, but I do wish you wouldn’t encourage that young Linnell so.”

“Mother!”

“There, I’ve done. I won’t say another word. Don’t fly out at me here. Now, that is a man to admire.”

“What, Mr Richard Linnell?”

“No: stuff, Cory. You know who I mean – that Major Rockley. I couldn’t hear a word he said to you. I wouldn’t, for I don’t like to stand in your way. I say, Cory, he’ll be a Colonel and a General some day. Why not him?”

“Would you like to know what he said to me, mother?”

“Yes; he did quite make love to you, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Hah, I thought so.”

Mrs Dean’s rings crackled as she rubbed her hands, and metaphorically hugged herself.

“That comes of getting into good society, Cora. Ladies drop into engagements without having to look after the gentlemen. You see, they are so brought together like. That Denville puts a sort of stamp on you like, and then you’re in society, and handsome Majors come and throw themselves at your feet.”

“Yes,” said Cora, speaking through her teeth, “and insult you, and dare to speak to you as if you were some beautiful toy brought and set up for their amusement.”

“Cory!”

“I tell you that every word he spoke to me in his mocking gallant way was an insult, and made my fingers tingle and my face burn. Mother, I’ve found out that there are two classes of men in the world.”

“Oh, my gracious! now she’s off again,” sighed Mrs Dean.

“There are those who naturally honour and respect woman with all the manly chivalry of their nature, and those who look upon her as a being several degrees lower than themselves. Mother, that man made me feel to-night as if I could kill him.”

“Oh dear; oh dear!” sighed Mrs Dean in a whisper to her daughter, “if this is coming into society, and you are going on talking in that savage way, we had better stop at home. I expect you snubbed the Major in that orty way of yours, and he has gone after that chit of Denville’s.”

“Where? Has he mother?” cried Cora, in an excited whisper.

“Yes; he is bending over her and making big eyes at her. I say, he is a handsome man, Cory, and if I know anything, he’s regularly took with her.”

“Are you sure, mother?”

“Sure? Just as if I couldn’t tell in a moment. You might get him away from her if you liked, I dare say. Look at that.”

She drew back a little that her child might see where Rockley was speaking in a markedly deferential manner to Claire; and Cora’s colour went and came, and her bosom heaved in unison.

“Bless your ’art, Cory, I ain’t lived to my age without picking up a little. Why, since I’ve been sitting here to-night I’ve picked up no end, and if I was a scandalous old woman I could make any amount of mischief.”

Cora did not answer, for just then Lord Carboro’ came up.

“Let me take you down to have a jelly, Miss Dean,” he said.

Cora looked up at him and was about to refuse; but there was such a quiet, respectful look in the old man’s eyes that she took his arm.

“I’ll come and fetch you afterwards, Mrs Dean,” he said and they crossed the room.

“There,” said Mrs Dean. “Now I’m a happy woman. It might be after all. Countess – not a Shakespeare countess or duchess for six nights only, as it says in the bills, but altogether. Hah, I paid for this party, and I don’t grudge the money, and Denville’s made himself a friend. I was going to say to my gal: there’s that Sir Matthew Bray making up to old Lady Drelincourt, and that Sir Harry Payne to Mrs Burnett, and Major Rockley to Claire Denville, and young Linnell as jealous as can be. And now, to top off with and finish the scene, Lord Carboro’ comes and takes off my Cora. Well, we’re in society at last.”

“Look here, old woman, this bracelet case is banging against my leg horribly, and if I have two things old Drelincourt will hesitate between them and take neither. If I’ve only one she may take it. I think I can get her alone now. Here, slip this into your pocket.”

“Oh, but Jo-si-ah, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, stupid; you’ve got lots of room. Here, I want to clear my expenses to-night.”

“Why, you have, Jo-si-ah.”

“Pooh! That’s nothing. Here, catch hold.”

He slipped the case into his wife’s hand, and she took it and passed it under a fold of her satin dress.

Barclay strolled away to try and get hold of Lady Drelincourt, and just then Denville came up.

“My dear Mrs Barclay,” he said, “you have been sitting all alone so long, and I could not get to you, and poor Claire is so busy.”

“Oh, don’t you mind me, Mr Denville. I’m nobody.”

“But you must be faint.”

“Well, since you put it like that, Mr Denville, I really have got such a dreadful feeling of sinking inside me that if it was only a sangwidge and a glass of sherry, I’d say bless you.”

“Come then, my dear madam,” said Denville. “This way.”

She rose and took the offered arm, and Lord Carboro’ smiled as the florid little woman went by him. Then he drew back by a curtain, and began taking snuff and watching Claire, as she now stood still, and he saw her meet Linnell’s eyes just as Rockley, who had been watching his opportunity, was going up to her.

Linnell looked at her with eyes that said, “May I come?” and he read that long, calm, trustful gaze to say “Yes.”

“Very nicely done. In a sweet maidenly way,” said Lord Carboro’. “How cleverly a woman can do that sort of thing, making one man a shield against another. By George! she is a queen – a woman of whom a man might be proud.”

Rockley went scowling back, and threw himself on the seat where Mrs Barclay had been; and from where he stood Lord Carboro’ looked at him sneeringly.

“Old, worn out, withered as I am, handsome Rockley, if Claire Denville became my wife, I shouldn’t care a snap for you. Ugh! why, I must be standing just where old Teigne was smothered. How horrible! Pish, what matters! Why should I care, when her dear sister is laughing and showing her false teeth there just where the foot of the bedstead used to be. Sweet girlish creature; she’s ogling that fat dragoon, and she’ll marry him if she can.”

He took another pinch of snuff.

“Hallo!” he muttered, “Payne after that little strawberry cream of a woman. We shall have a scandal there, as sure as fate, and – good girl, she sees through her and cuts the enemy out. Claire, my dear, you are indeed a little queen among women. I’ve never given you half the credit you deserve, and – damme! – never! – yes – no – yes! – the scoundrel! Well, that comes of reckless play. Curse it all, there must not be such a scandal as this. Where’s Denville?”

He looked round, but the Master of the Ceremonies had not returned with Mrs Barclay.

Everybody was fully engaged, laughing, flirting, or card-playing. Assignations were being made; money was changing hands, and the candles were burning down and guttering at the sides, as Lord Carboro’ exclaimed:

“Hang it! I did not think he could stoop to be such a scoundrel as that!”

Volume Two – Chapter Thirteen.

Major Rockley’s Mistake

“Now, Barclay, you are a wicked flatterer,” said Lady Drelincourt, as she sat out in the balcony, with the money-lender leaning over her after leading her there and placing a chair.

“I shall risk being rude in my rough way,” said Barclay in a low voice, “and repeat my words. I said those lustrous diamonds would look perfect on your ladyship’s beautiful throat.”

“Now, you don’t mean it, Barclay. I am not so young as I was, and my throat is not beautiful now.”

“There, I’m a plain man,” said Barclay; “I’ve no time for fine sayings and polished phrases, and what I say is this: I know your ladyship must be forty.”

“Yes, Barclay, I am,” said Lady Drelincourt, with a sigh.

“I’m fifty-five,” he said, “and what I say is, how a woman with a skin like yours can utter such deprecatory sentiments is a puzzle. Why, half the women here would be proud of such a skin. Look how they paint. Pah!”

“They do, Barclay; they do. Are the diamonds of good water?”

“Look,” he said, holding them before him.

“No, no; some one in the room will see.”

“I’ll take care of that, my lady. Look at them. I daren’t tell you whom they once belonged to, but they came to me through accidents at the gaming-table. They are perfect in match and size. Lady Drelincourt, you would not be doing yourself justice if you did not buy them. I wish I dare clasp them on.”

“No, no; not now. How much did you say?”

“I am giving them away at four hundred guineas, Lady Drelincourt.”

“Oh, but that’s a terrible price, Barclay!”

“They will be worth more in a year or two, Lady Drelincourt.”

“Oh, but I could not spare so much money.”

“Pooh! what of that! If your ladyship likes the diamonds – ”

“I do like them, Barclay.”

“I should be happy to give your ladyship what credit you require.”

“Really, this is very naughty of me, Barclay; it is, indeed, but I suppose I must have them. There, slip them into my hand. You can send me the case to-morrow.”

“I will, my lady. You’ll never regret the purchase, and I am delighted that they will be worn by the queen of Saltinville society.”

“Go away, flatterer, and tell Sir Matthew Bray to bring me my salts. I left them on the chimney-piece.”

“I fly,” said Barclay; and he went through the rooms to perform his commission, Sir Matthew hurrying to get to her ladyship’s side, while Barclay turned to meet his wife who was just returning with their host.

“Hallo!”

“Oh, I am so much better now, Jo-si-ah. I was so faint.”

“Ah, Denville, I want a word with you,” said Lord Carboro’, coming up box in hand.

“I say, old lady,” whispered Barclay, “got that bracelet safe?”

“Oh, yes, that’s all right; but you can’t have it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s right down at the very bottom of my pocket, where there’s no getting at it at all. But you don’t want it now?”

“No. I’ve sold the diamond necklace.”

“No!”

“I have, to that old hag, Drelincourt.”

“Did she pay you?”

“No; but we’ve got deeds worth four times as much, and I shall charge her interest until she pays.”

“Then you’ve had a splendid night, Jo-si-ah.”

“Glorious!” he said, rubbing his hands.

“Then I want a rubber of whist, and I shall see if I can’t win a few guineas myself.”

“All right. I’ll get you to a table.”

“Denville, old fellow,” said Lord Carboro’, chatting with his host and taking snuff from the box given by the Prince, “I’ve a bad habit of seeing everything that goes on around me.”

“Your lordship is most observant.”

“I’m sorry to say I am; and whether we become relatives or not, Denville, I take an interest in you and your belongings.”

The Master of the Ceremonies looked up in alarm.

“Take a bit of good advice, Denville.”

“My lord!”

“And keep a tighter rein over your daughter.”

“Your lordship’s opinions seem to change easily,” said Denville bitterly. “The other day my daughter Claire – ”

“Pooh! Absurd, man! Stop. She is perfect. A princess could not have been a more charming hostess. I did not mean her. Look there!”

“Mrs Burnett with Sir Harry Payne?”

“Yes; the fellow’s a blackguard. The little woman married a fool – ”

“My lord!”

“Who neglects her for drink and play. Don’t be offended, Denville. I am your friend. You have had scandal enough in your family; you must have no more.”

Denville drew a long breath.

“Your lordship is right; but you must not misunderstand my dear child.”

“Pretty, sweet, young, and most impressionable, Denville. Constant dropping will wear a stone. Don’t let the water drop on it any more.”

“My lord, you may trust me.”

“Stop, Denville. Another thing in confidence. You must get it back, treating it all as an error.”

“My lord, you alarm me. Get it back?”

“I can’t help it, Denville. Do you know that sometimes dashing fellows, ruined by play, have gone on the road mounted and masked, and, pistol in hand, have robbed?”

“Yes, my lord. But we have no highwaymen here.”

“Don’t be too sure. Did you know that Barclay, at my wish, brought some jewellery?”

“Yes, but not at my wish, my lord! I felt aggrieved – insulted.”

“Forgive him and me. It was at my request. I wanted to make an offering – a string of pearls – to your daughter; and, like the sweet true lady she is, she has refused to accept them.”

Denville flushed and turned pale as he glanced proudly at his child, where she stood talking to Colonel Mellersh.

“I saw Barclay give his wife a case with a diamond bracelet in it, to hold while he went to old Drelincourt.”

“Yes, my lord. What of that?”

“Mrs Barclay did not put it in her pocket, but let it slip down on the carpet.”

“Where was she seated, my lord?”

“Never mind; the diamond bracelet was found.”

“Thank goodness!” gasped Denville.

“By Major Rockley.”

“Who gave it back?”

“No; who has pocketed it, and will keep it; while Barclay will most likely credit you.”

“Impossible, my lord!”

“Possible, Denville. I tell you there must be no more robberies here. Hang it, man, stand up.”

“A sudden giddiness, my lord. I am better now. I will get the jewels back. But, one moment, my lord, are you really quite sure?”

“I am certain.”

“But Major Rockley may mean – ”

“Hush, Denville. What do you know of handsome Rockley? Do you think he will give the jewels back if he can get them away? Act; at once.”

“Suppose he is wrong,” said Denville to himself, as he went off on his painful task. “What an insult to an officer – the Prince’s friend.”

“I dare not do it,” he said after a pause. “It must be some mistake. Such an act would be the work of a common thief. He must be wrong.”

He shrank from his task, but he felt that it must be done, for how could he let it go forth that there had been another diamond robbery from his house. It was impossible.

As he hesitated he caught sight of Lord Carboro’ watching him. Barclay too was there, evidently about to speak to him, and he felt that he must. Better to offend Major Rockley than have another scandal.

He mingled among his guests with a word here and there, sending some downstairs, and interfering in a tête-à-tête between May and Sir Harry Payne, who had at last won a promise from the giddy little creature to whom he was paying court. He then went up to Rockley, snuff-box in hand, and addressed him as he was leaning against the chimney-piece.

“I’m afraid our little reunion has no charms for you, Major Rockley,” he said.

“On the contrary, my dear Denville, I am delighted.”

“But you have had no refreshment. Pray come down.”

“Without a lady?”

“Yes, without a lady. Or, no, I will speak now, and you can go afterwards. A little mistake, Major Rockley. You’ll pardon me; a little mistake.”

His heart sank as he spoke, and he trembled almost guiltily at the task he had in hand.

The Major’s dark eyes flashed as he scowled at him.

“If you mean, sir, that by addressing – ”

“No, no, Major Rockley; a little mistake. You thought you dropped your snuff-box.”

“I thought I dropped my snuff-box, sir? Are you mad?”

“You’ll pardon me, Major Rockley, no. You made a mistake; it is my duty to see the matter right. You imagined that you dropped your snuff-box, and you picked it up, when you were seated a little while ago.”

“Well, sir?”

If Lord Carboro’ had made a mistake, how dare he meet that man again?

“You do not seem to understand me, Major Rockley. The case you picked up was not a snuff-box, but contained jewels belonging to one of my guests.”

“I did not know your guests carried their jewels in cases, Mr Denville,” said the Major, with a forced laugh. “They seem to be wearing them.”

“It is so easy to make a mistake, Major Rockley,” continued the MC, on finding that it was more simple to attack than he had expected.

“I never make mistakes, sir,” said the Major haughtily.

“I should not have spoken to you like this, sir, if the act had not been seen,” said Denville, angrily now.

“Act? Seen? Good heavens, sir! Do you take me for a thief?” said Rockley, in a hoarse whisper. “Do you think – why – confound! I am astounded!”

He had been angrily thrusting a hand into first one and then another pocket, bringing out a snuff-box, then a handkerchief, and lastly the little morocco case.

“That must be it, Major Rockley,” said the MC coldly; and their eyes met with a curiously long stare.

“As you say, Mr Denville, mistakes are so easily made. I am in your debt for this – I shall never forget it. You will excuse me now, I am sure. The little matter has agitated me more than I should care to own.”

The MC bowed.

“Seen, you said, I think? Was it you who saw me pick up that case – by accident?”

“No, sir.”

“Would you oblige me with the name of the person?”

“It is not necessary,” said Denville. “I am master of the ceremonies, sir, of my own house. This affair, I may tell you, will be kept private by us both.”

Major Rockley bowed and turned to gaze round the room, to see if he could select Denville’s informant; but there was no one whom he felt ready to blame but Richard Linnell – Barclay he knew it could not be – or was it that handsome Cora Dean?

He turned again close by the door, and tried to catch Claire Denville’s eyes; but she was talking gravely to Linnell, so, half bowing to Denville, he said quietly:

“Thank you for excusing me. Of course, I rely upon the discretion of yourself and friend. Adieu.”

“Adieu,” and he left with curses and deadly threats in his breast.

“Had man ever such luck!” he hissed, as he strode by the house, glancing up at the well-lit balcony and drawing-room, from which he turned with an involuntary shudder. “Curse the old idiot, but I’ll serve him out for this presently. I wonder whether the old dancing-master cares for his girl and boy? Well,” he added, with a peculiar smile, “we shall soon see.”

Volume Two – Chapter Fourteen.

At the Card-Table

“Friends?” Richard Linnell was saying, as he stood looking earnestly at Claire. “Nothing more?”

“No,” she said, in a low, sad voice; “always, come what may, your grateful friend.”

She turned to her sister, who was watching her, and met her with:

“Claire dear, you’re going mad. That man hasn’t a penny.”

“Well?” said Claire gravely. “And you are encouraging him.”

“As you are encouraging Sir Harry Payne? No, May; you are mistaken.”

“I declare if you are going to insult me I will not stay,” cried May, turning scarlet. “It is disgraceful. It is cruel. If I could only find Frank – ”

Just then a loud burst of angry voices came from one of the card-tables. It was eleven o’clock; there had been refreshments; the room was very hot, and the play, for ladies, high; and now the voice of the Master of the Ceremonies was heard in protest.

“Ladies – ladies – I beg – I must request – ”

“Order my carriage directly, Sir Matthew. It serves me right for coming to such a place,” cried Lady Drelincourt.

“Yes; you had no business here,” cried Mrs Barclay.

“And mixing with such low people,” cried Lady Drelincourt.

“Low people? Better be low than not honest.”

“Oh! oh! – Denville, are you going to allow this insult to my face – from such a woman as that?” cried Lady Drelincourt.

“Hush, ladies! Pray – pray!” cried Denville.

“Hold your tongue and come away, old lady,” said Barclay, in a croaking whisper.

“I won’t, Jo-si-ah; not till she pays me my four guineas, I declare,” cried Mrs Barclay aloud. “She’s been doing nothing but cheat and rook ever since I sat down to play.”

“Sir Matthew Bray, my carriage.”

“And gone on shameful, and pretending it was all mistakes. I declare it’s abominable.”

“Ladies – ladies!”

“Will you be quiet, old girl? Hold your tongue.”

“I will not, Josiah,” cried Mrs Barclay, who, like many good-tempered, amiable women, took a great deal to make her angry, but when she was really excited, was not to be suppressed. “What I say is – ”

“Oh – oh – oh – oh!”

A series of wild, hysterical cries from a couch in the front room, and Claire ran gladly from the painful scene to where her sister was in a violent hysterical fit, which, with the exit of Lady Drelincourt on Sir Matthew Bray’s arm, after a withering glance round, quite stopped Mrs Barclay’s vituperative attack.

“Think of that now,” cried the latter lady. “Me again. I ought not to come out.”

“That you oughtn’t,” growled Barclay. “Next thing will be you’ve lost that bracelet.”

“Nonsense, Josiah. Let me help you, Claire dear. I am so sorry, but that wretched cheating old woman was either kicking me under the table in mistake for that Sir Matthew Bray, or else cheating. I am so – so sorry. It’s ’sterricks, that’s what it is.”

“Yes, that’s what it is,” said Mrs Dean; “and if I might say a word, I should tell Mr Denville that he couldn’t do better than behave like Lady Macbeth.”

“Oh, mother!” whispered Cora impatiently.

“Now what’s the good of you ‘oh mothering’ me, my dear? What could be better than for Mr Denville to say to his guests, ‘Don’t be on the order of your going, but go at once’?”

“Miss Dean,” said Sir Harry, “your mamma speaks the words of wisdom. It is the wisest thing. Come, gentlemen, we can be of no service here. By Jove, she does it to perfection.”

Mrs Dean’s words broke up the party, and the visitors had nearly all gone, when, in answer to cold bathing and smelling-salts, Mrs Burnett began to recover; and just then Frank Burnett, who had been, no one but Isaac knew where, came up to make a fresh scene as he threw himself upon his knees beside the couch, imploring in maudlin tones his darling May to speak and tell him what it was.

“Oh, my head, my head!” sobbed the stricken wife. “My head, my head!”

“You’d better let her be, Mr Burnett, sir,” said Mrs Barclay. “It’s my belief that quiet’s the thing.”

“Yes, and we’ll go,” said Mrs Dean. “Good-night, Miss Denville. Good-night, Mr Denville, and thank you so much. Come, Cora, love.”

Cora Dean glanced at Richard Linnell and Mellersh as she advanced to say good-night; for they were going to the same house, and it was possible, as the distance was short, that they would see them home.

“Good-night, Mr Denville,” she said.

“We will say good-night too,” said Mellersh, “unless we can be of any use.”

“Oh, no,” said their host. “She will soon be better – a mere trifle.”

“Yes, please let me be,” said Mrs Burnett. “I shall soon be better now.”

“Good-night,” said Cora, holding out her hand to the woman she told herself she hated with all her heart.

But it was in a spirit of triumph, for Richard Linnell was going to walk home with her.

“Good-night,” said Claire, smiling in her face with a calm ingenuous look. “I am glad we have met.”

How it came about they neither of them knew, but it was Claire’s seeking; she was suffering so from that heart hunger – that painful searching for the love and sympathy of some woman of her age, while Cora Dean’s handsome face was so near to her, and she kissed her as one sister might another.

“Well, I never,” muttered Mrs Dean as she went down the stairs. “Think of that, and you as don’t like her.”

The next minute Cora Dean and her mother were walking along the Parade with Linnell and Mellersh on either side, chatting about the evening.

“One cigar, Dick, before we go to bed,” said Mellersh, when they had been sitting together in his room for some time, after parting from their upstairs neighbours.

“I’m willing,” said Linnell, “for I feel as if I could not sleep.”

They lit their cigars, let themselves out, strolled down to the edge of the water, walked along by it in front of the Parade, and went upon the cliff again, to go back silently along the path till they neared the house where they had passed the evening, walking very slowly, and ending by stopping to lean over the cliff rails and gaze out to sea.