Esmeralda at lunch recounted her adventure to Lady Wyndover, telling it in the most casual way, and she was much surprised and puzzled when her ladyship almost dropped her knife and fork, and sunk back in her chair with an exclamation of annoyance.
“My dear girl, what made you do such an—an extraordinary and absurd thing? That comes of letting you go out alone! Oh, dear! oh, dear!”
“What is the matter?” inquired Esmeralda, innocently; “nobody was hurt.”
“No, no, but that was not what I was thinking about. Of course I am very glad and thankful you were not hurt; I’m sure you might have been killed! But it’s—it’s the oddness of the thing! The idea of your interfering, and running such a risk! Why didn’t you leave it to—to the policeman, or wait until the groom came up?”
“There was no policeman there, and the groom was a long way behind,” said Esmeralda. She looked thoughtful.[69] “You said ‘interfering,’ didn’t you? Yes, I suppose that was what the lady thought; though if I hadn’t interfered she’d have got a nasty fall. She looked at me as if I were—well—a servant.” She laughed. “She’s prouder even than Barker.”
“I wonder who they were?” said Lady Wyndover, plaintively. “What were they like?”
“The girl was very fair—like a china ornament—with blue eyes, and a smile that freezes you—”
“My dear Esmeralda!”
“She thanked me as if she would rather have come off across the rail than I should have touched her horse.”
“Who could it be? Fair? And the gentleman?”
Esmeralda looked before her, musingly.
“He was tall and dark, with a slight mustache, and very dark eyes—a very handsome man. He was civil enough, and thanked me all he knew. I think he was a bit ashamed of her.”
“I don’t recognize them from your description, and I hope they are no one we know; and I do trust that if they are, they won’t know you again.”
Esmeralda laughed and stared.
“Well, I don’t know that I did anything to be ashamed of,” she said. “At home we should be quite obliged to any one for saving us from a spill. I suppose it’s different here. Well, I’ll learn in time to stand by and see people break their necks, without moving an eyelid.”
“At home! At home! My dear child, don’t speak of that dreadful place as if it were your home! This is your home, and— But there—never mind. I wonder who they were?”
“I don’t know—and I don’t care!” said Esmeralda, with fine indifference. “May I have some more pudding?”
The butler, who looked as if he were deaf through all this, served her; but she was fated not to eat it, for Barker came in with “The boxes have come from Cerise’s, my lady,” and Lady Wyndover, with a little cry of satisfaction, immediately rose.
“Unpack them at once, Barker!” she said. “Come upstairs, Esmeralda; come this moment.”
Esmeralda glanced regretfully at the pudding, but obeyed, and followed her ladyship upstairs. Three large boxes were in the dressing-room, and Barker and her ladyship’s own maid were hastily unpacking them. In a few minutes the whole place was littered with costumes, and Lady Wyndover was flitting from one to the other in a state of excitement.
[70]
“I don’t know which to try on first,” she said. “Try this evening one. Isn’t it lovely? It is sure to fit! Cerise never makes a mistake—never!”
Esmeralda surrendered herself to the two maids, who with experienced deftness put the frock on her, then stood back to view the effect, and exchanged meaning glances. Lady Wyndover stood almost breathless for a moment, then she gave a long sigh of satisfaction, and sunk into a chair.
“Will it do?” asked Esmeralda, calmly looking down at the dress.
“Look in the glass,” said Lady Wyndover. “Stand there—so; now you can see yourself. Well?”
Esmeralda gazed at her reflection in the pier-glass with a feeling of wonder and pleasure. Lady Wyndover had pitched upon the prettiest dress—a soft silk of indescribable hue, but one which set off Esmeralda’s coloring to perfection. She scarcely knew herself, but stood looking in the glass as if she doubted the truth of the reflection. Then, suddenly, the color rose to her face, and deepening, dyed her neck; and she felt herself blushing all over.
“Isn’t—isn’t it— Is this all there is of it?” she asked in a low voice.
“All there is of it? Why, what more do you want, child?” demanded Lady Wyndover.
The maids smiled and looked down.
“I thought there might be something to cover my neck and shoulders and arms,” said Esmeralda. “There’s only this strap, and the thing feels as if it were slipping off,” and she blushed again.
“Oh, no, it is quite right,” said Lady Wyndover, easily. “How beautiful you—it is!” she added, almost to herself. “And it will look better still at night.”
“You are sure it won’t come off?” inquired Esmeralda, not yet quite easy in her mind.
“Of course it will not, my dear; it is simply perfect. Take it off, and put on the others—I am dying to see them! Oh, what a treasure Cerise is!”
Esmeralda stood like a lay figure while the rest of the dresses were tried on, and Lady Wyndover, with a deep sigh, declared herself satisfied.
“I’m glad you like them,” said Esmeralda; “but I shall never be able to wear them all!”
Lady Wyndover laughed.
“My dear girl,” she said, “you will be worrying Cerise’s life out of her for more before many weeks have passed.[71] Why, those two ball-dresses you will not be able to wear more than twice.”
“Ball-dresses?” said Esmeralda; “but I can’t dance!”
“Really? But I suppose not. Well, you must have some lessons at once. Thank goodness, you will soon learn—one can see that.” She looked at the graceful figure thoughtfully. “Not that it really matters whether you dance or not. In fact, there is something original in your being unable to do so; it is all in character. And now let us go into my room and talk over the campaign. Let me see,” she said, sinking back on her favorite couch, and regarding Esmeralda between half-closed lids, “there is a ‘small and early’ at Lady Blankyre’s to-morrow night. That will be just the thing, I think—not too large, and yet all the best—the very best—people. And Lady Blankyre is a very dear friend of mine, and will understand. If it should prove a success—but of course it will”—she nodded encouragingly—“we can launch out. So much depends upon the start! If we get a really good start, the newspaper men will take up the running for us, and the rest is easy.”
“The newspaper men?” said Esmeralda. “I don’t understand. What have they got to do with you or me?”
Lady Wyndover laughed.
“Reach me that ‘Society Chatter’—yes, the paper on the chair.”
She opened it, and handed it back, pointing to a paragraph, and Esmeralda read:
“Miss Chetwynde, the granddaughter and heiress of the famous millionaire, Mr. Gordon Chetwynde, whose discovery in the wilds of Australia by Mr. Pinchook, the well-known solicitor, was attended by so much romance, is staying with her guardian, Lady Wyndover. Miss Chetwynde is at present ‘resting’ after her long journey, but it is hoped that she will before long be introduced into society, which will be delighted to welcome a young lady who is not only possessed of something over two millions, but, if rumor be true, is also endowed by the gods with the supreme gifts of youth and beauty.”
“There, you see!” said Lady Wyndover, as Esmeralda looked up from the paper with astonishment. “You see what a great deal is expected of us.”
“Why does this man write all this about me?” inquired Esmeralda. “It’s—it’s as if I were a—a circus!”
[72]
“So you are, my dear,” said Lady Wyndover, with her languid smile. “Better than a circus—far better!”
“If—if this man had put this into one of the Ballarat papers, Varley or one of the boys would have shot him,” remarked Esmeralda, with a flash of her eyes.
“Then I’m glad ‘Varley’ and none of ‘the boys’ are here!” said Lady Wyndover. “My dear, we all get into the paper nowadays, and most of us are bitterly disappointed if we get left out. People like to read about us—I mean by ‘us’ the upper class, and we like to read about each other—it’s the fashion. You’ll soon get used to seeing your name in print, I assure you. And now let me tell you what you are to do to-morrow—what you are not to do. Thank Heaven, you are naturally such good form that you only want a few hints about quite little things. About shaking hands, now, dear. You hold out your hand in the old-fashioned way; no one does that now. It’s in this way, see?”
“As if I’d broken my wrist,” said Esmeralda. “All right.”
In her soft, languid way Lady Wyndover explained several other little society mannerisms, and Esmeralda listened with her grave eyes fixed on her monitor’s carefully got-up face.
“It all seems a great bother, and not to matter much,” she said, at the close of the lesson. “I hope I sha’n’t forget it all.”
Lady Wyndover laughed.
“I don’t fancy you will,” she said, shrewdly. “And, after all”—with a sigh—“it won’t matter what you do!”
The following evening Esmeralda stood in the center of the dressing-room, with the two maids and Lady Wyndover in a circle round her. She was fully dressed, and upon her white arms and neck glittered and sparkled the set of diamonds and pearls which they had bought in Bond Street.
She looked very lovely, and, strange to say, not at all anxious, though she still felt as if she would have preferred the dress to have contained a little more material in the bodice.
“You are not at all shaky,” said Lady Wyndover; “what a strange girl you are! I remember quivering like a leaf at my first party, and having to take a dose of sal volatile before starting.”
“Ought I to be nervous?” Esmeralda said. “I’ll try to be, if you think I ought. Haven’t I got too many jewels about me? I’ve got almost as many as you have, and I seem to myself to be all ablaze.”
Lady Wyndover shook her head confidently.
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“Not at all too much, my dear child,” she replied. “Wait until you see Lady Blankyre’s and the Countess of Desford’s. No, that simple necklace of pearls and diamonds is just the thing. Later on—well, later on—you shall see what diamonds mean! Now are you sure, quite sure, you will not have a little sal volatile?”
“If it’s medicine, I’m sure I won’t,” said Esmeralda, emphatically. “I’ve never had any since I got the measles; and this business can’t be as bad as that!”
They were driven to Lady Blankyre’s well-known house in Park Lane at what seemed to Esmeralda a remarkably late hour for an “early” party; and, remembering the “small,” she was astonished to find the hall and staircase crowded with guests, and discovered that Lady Wyndover had to almost push her way through the throng.
Lady Blankyre, a magnificent woman, in white velvet, stood just inside the room, and at a whisper from Lady Wyndover extended her hand and smiled a welcome.
“How do you do, Miss Chetwynde?” she said. “It is very good of Lady Wyndover to bring you to me before any one else!”
Then, in an undertone, she said to Lady Wyndover:
“My dear, she is superb! Bring her to me again presently, when the crush is over. George”—she turned to her husband, the Earl of Blankyre, who was standing beside her, holding her bouquet of white camellias—“this is Lady Wyndover’s ward, Miss Chetwynde. Will you take her through into the next room?”
Lord Blankyre offered his arm, and looked at her curiously through his eyeglass. He had heard the story of her discovery, with all its exaggerations, and had expected to see a rough, gawky girl half dead with shyness. But Esmeralda, though she was somewhat confused by the crowd of superbly dressed women and distinguished men, and the hum of voices mingling with the music of the Hungarian band, did not look overcome by shyness or nervousness. The lovely face was just a little graver than most girls, and the wonderful eyes rather solemn; but the shapely hand that rested on his arm did not shake, and the lips were firm and steady.
And yet, what an ordeal lay before her! Lady Blankyre had managed to tell some of her friends that............