This lavish scheme had its birth in Letty’s desire to hang the ballroom with pink calico. She had seen this novel form of decoration at one of the first balls of the season, and it had instantly hit her fancy. Hundreds of ells of calico had been gathered to form the likeness of a huge tent: everyone had exclaimed at it, and had complimented the hostess on such a charming notion; and Letty, convinced that it would shortly become all the crack, had been alternately hectoring and cajoling Cardross for weeks past to have his ballroom turned into a pink tent for the grand dress-party to be held there at the end of the month. Unfortunately Cardross had not admired the effect of pink calico; and upon Letty agreeing that to be sure calico was shabby, and it would be far more elegant (besides going one better than Lady Weldon) to use silk, he had expressed himself so unequivocally on the subject as to confirm her in her belief that his taste was as old-fashioned as his disposition was mean. She had not scrupled to tell him so, and his way of receiving this terrible indictment did him no honour at all. “I know it,” he had said sympathetically. “I assure you, Letty, it astonishes even me that I could be such a hog-grubber as to grudge the expenditure of I daresay not much above a few hundred pounds on the suitable decoration of the ballroom to set off your charms.” He had cast a laughing glance towards Nell, and had added provocatively: “Now, had you asked me for blue hangings—!”
Letty had been perfectly willing to compound for blue, but had met with no support from Nell. Nell, quite as desirous as she to cut a dash, had no notion (she thanked Letty) of imitating Lady Weldon, or any other fashionable hostess. If Cardross approved, she would make the ton exclaim much more loudly by creating a flower-garden in her ballroom. It had often astonished her that hostesses made such meager use of flowers: they should be made to gnash their teeth with envy at the result to be achieved by taste, ingenuity, and the services of a first-rate florist. Cardross promptly gave her carte blanche; and Letty, having rather reluctantly listened to her scheme, was obliged to own that it would be at once pretty, and quite out of the ordinary way.
So off Nell went to Chelsea. No sooner did Mr. Tubbs, greeting her ladyship with flattering deference, grasp the purpose of her visit than he became an enthusiastic supporter of it, summoning up his chief minions, and rapidly devising several alternative plans for the tasteful decoration of her ballroom. They differed in many respects, but in one they were alike: they were all extremely costly. But since Cardross had said Nell might do anything she chose, provided she didn’t drape his ballroom in pink calico, this consideration was of no moment. In choosing the flowers and the ferns, and discussing with Mr. Tubbs the rival merits of garlands, hanging-baskets, and a trellis-work set against the walls and covered with greenery, out of which flowers could be made to appear as if growing, she passed an agreeable hour, her cares for the time being forgotten. She parted from Mr. Tubbs on the most cordial terms, that excellent horticulturist begging her to do him the honour of accepting a bouquet composed of all the choice blooms she had particularly admired during her tour of the garden. It was such a large bouquet that it had to be laid on the floor of the barouche, but Mr. Tubbs did not grudge a single blossom in it: it was not every day of the week that he received so magnificent an order as Lady Cardross had given him. He assured her ladyship that she might repose the fullest confidence in his ability to achieve a result that would hold her guests spellbound with admiration; and no sooner had her barouche driven away than he took his foreman apart, and exhorted him to put forth his best endeavours. “For mark my words, Andy,” he said earnestly, “if this does not set a fashion! I shouldn’t wonder at it if we were soon turning orders away!”
Nell was rather hopeful, too, that she might be starting a new mode. There had been a number of parties at Cardross House since her marriage, but this would be the first grand ball she had held, and she wanted people to say something more of it than that it had been a dreadful squeeze.
Letty had not returned from Bryanston Square when she reached home again, so after putting off her hat and her gloves she occupied herself with the arrangement of her bouquet in several bowls and vases. She was trying the effect of one of these on a pie-crust table in a corner of the drawing-room when a voice said behind her: “Charming!”
It was fortunate that she was not holding the bowl, for she must certainly had dropped it, so convulsive was the start she gave. She gasped sharply, and turned, to find that Cardross had come quietly into the room, and was standing by the door, quizzically regarding her. He had shed his driving-coat, but he had plainly but that instant arrived in town, for he was still wearing a country habit of frock-coat, buckskins, and top-boots.
The shock of hearing his voice when she had believed him to be a hundred miles away was severe, and her first sensation was of consternation. She made a quick recover, but not before he had seen the fright in her eyes. The quizzical look faded, to be replaced by one of searching enquiry. She exclaimed a little faintly: “Cardross! Oh, how much you startled me!”
“I appear, rather, to have dismayed you,” he said, making no movement to approach her, but continuing to watch her face with hard, narrowed eyes.
“No, no! How can you say so?” she protested, with a nervous laugh, and reddening cheeks. “I am so glad—I did not expect to see you until Monday, and hearing you speak suddenly—made me jump out of my skin!”
“I beg your pardon,” he replied, unsmilingly. “I should, of course, have warned you of my arrival. You must try to forgive my want of tact.”
“Giles, how absurd!” she said, holding out her hand.
He strolled forward, and took it, bowing formally, and just touching it with his lips. He released it immediately, saying: “Yes, in the manner of the farce we saw at Covent Garden, and thought so stupid. I shall stop short of searching behind the curtains and under the furniture for the hidden lover.”
The chilly salute he had bestowed on her hand had both alarmed and distressed her, but this speech fell so wide of the mark that she laughed. “In the expectation of finding your cousin Felix? It is a most improper notion, but how very funny it would be to discover him in such a situation!”
He smiled slightly, and some of the suspicion left his eyes. He still kept them on her face, and she found it hard to meet them. “What is it, Nell?” he asked, after a moment.
“But indeed it is nothing! I—I don’t understand what you can mean! Are you offended with me for having jumped so? But that was quite your own fault, you know!”
He did not answer for a moment, and when he did at last speak it was in a colourless voice. “As you say. Which of your many admirers bestowed that handsome bouquet on you? You have arranged it delightfully.”
“None of them! At least, I don’t flatter myself that he admires me precisely!” she replied, thankful for the change of subject. “I had it—but this is only a part of it!—from Tubbs, the nursery-man! I have been there today, to order the flowers for our dress-ball, and at parting he begged me to accept the most enormous bouquet imaginable!”