“Why, Sir Herbert!” said Mrs Halcut-Hackett; “that’s surely an impossibility.”
The General said “What!”
“This young lady,” continued Carrados, squeezing her elbow, “no sooner began to dance with me than she developed toothache. Frightfully bad luck — for both of us.”
Mrs Halcut-Hackett eyed her charge with something very like angry despair.
“What’s the matter,” she said, “darling?”
“I’m afraid I’d better go home.”
Lady Carrados took her hand.
“That is bad luck,” she said. “Shall we see if we can find something to—”
“No, no, please,” said the child. “I think really, I’d better go home. I–I’m sure I’d better. Really.”
The General suddenly became human. He stood up, took the girl by the shoulders, and addressed Lady Carrados.
“Better at home,” he said. “What? Brandy and oil of cloves. Damn bad show. Will you excuse us?” He addressed his wife. “I’ll take her home. You stay on. Come back for you.” He addressed his charge: “Come on, child. Get your wrap.”
“You need not come back for me, dear,” said Mrs Halcut-Hackett. “I shall be quite all right. Stay with Rose.”
“If I may,” squeaked Lord Robert, “I’ll give myself the pleasure of driving your wife home, Halcut-Hackett.”
“No, no,” began Mrs Halcut-Hackett, “I — please—”
“Well,” said the General. “Suit splendidly. What? Say good night. What?” They bowed and shook hands. Sir Herbert walked away with both of them. Mrs Halcut-Hackett embarked on a long polite explanation and apology to Lady Carrados.
“Poor child!” whispered Lady Alleyn.
“Poor child, indeed,” murmured Troy.
Mrs Halcut-Hackett had made no further reply to Lord Robert’s offer. Now, as he turned to her, she hurriedly addressed herself to Davidson.
“I must take the poor lamb to a dentist,” she said. “Too awful if her face should swell half-way through the season. Her mother is my dearest friend but she’d never forgive me. A major tragedy.”
“Quite,” said Sir Daniel rather dryly.
“Well,” said Lucy Lorrimer beginning to collect her scarves, “I shall expect you at eight twenty-seven. It’s only me and my brother, you know. The one that got into difficulties. I want some supper. Where is Mrs Halcut-Hackett? I suppose I must congratulate her on her ball, though I must say I always think it’s the greatest mistake—”
Sir Daniel Davidson hurriedly shouted her down.
“Let me take you down and give you some supper,” he suggested loudly with an agonized glance at Mrs Halcut-Hackett and Lady Carrados. He carried Lucy Lorrimer away.
“Poor Lucy!” said Lady Alleyn. “She never has the remotest idea where she is. I wish, Evelyn, that he hadn’t stopped her. What fault do you suppose she was about to find in your hospitality?”
“Let’s follow them, Evelyn,” said Lord Robert, “and no doubt we shall find out. Troy, m’dear, there’s a young man making for you. May we dance again?”
“Yes, of course, Bunchy dear,” said Troy, and went off with her partner.
Lady Carrados said she would meet Lord Robert in the supper-room in ten minutes. She left them, threading her way down the ballroom, her fingers clutching her bag. At the far end she overtook Sir Daniel and Lucy Lorrimer.
Lady Alleyn, looking anxiously after her, saw her sway a little. Davidson stepped up to her quickly and took her arm, steadying her. Lady Alleyn saw him speak to her with a quick look of concern. She saw Evelyn Carrados shake her head, smiling at him. He spoke again with emphasis and then Lucy Lorrimer shouted at him and he shrugged his shoulders and moved away. After a moment Lady Carrados, too, left the ballroom.
Lord Robert asked Mrs Halcut-Hackett if she would “take a turn” with him once round the room. She excused herself, making rather an awkward business of it:
“I fancy I said that I would keep this one for — I’m so sorry — Oh, yes — here he comes right now.”
Captain Withers had come from the farther side of the ballroom. Mrs Halcut-Hackett hurriedly got up and went to meet him. Without a word he placed his arm round her and they moved off together, Withers looking straight in front of him.
“Where’s Rory?” Lord Robert asked Lady Alleyn. “I expected to find him here tonight. He refused to dine with us.”
“Working at the Yard. He’s going north early tomorrow. Bunchy, that was your Captain Withers, wasn’t it? The man we saw at the Halcut-Hacketts’ cocktail-party?”
“Yes.”
“Is she having an affair with him, do you suppose? They’ve got that sort of look.”
Lord Robert pursed his lips and contemplated his hands.
“It’s not malicious curiosity,” said Lady Alleyn. “I’m worried about those women. Especially Evelyn.”
“You don’t suggest Evelyn—?”
“Of course not. But they’ve both got the same haunted look. And if I’m not mistaken Evelyn nearly fainted just then. Your friend Davidson noticed it and I think he gave her the scolding she needs. She’s at the end of her tether, Bunchy.”
“I’ll get hold of her and take her into the supper-room.”
“Do. Go after her now, like a dear man. There comes my Sarah.”
Lord Robert hurried away. It took him some time to get round the ballroom and as he edged past dancing couples and over the feet of sitting chaperones he suddenly felt as if an intruder had thrust open all the windows of this neat little world and let in a flood of uncompromising light. In this cruel light he saw the people he liked best and they were changed and belittled. He saw his nephew Donald, who had turned aside when they met in the hall, as a spoilt, selfish boy with no honesty or ambition. He saw Evelyn Carrados as a woman haunted by some memory that was discreditable, and hag-ridden by a blackmailer. His imagination leapt into extravagance, and in many of the men he fancied he saw something of the unscrupulousness of Withers, the pomposity of Carrados, and the stupidity of old General Halcut-Hackett. He was plunged into a violent depression that had a sort of nightmarish quality. How many of these women were what he still thought of as “virtuous”? And the débutantes? They had gone back to chaperones and were guided and guarded by women, many of whose own private lives would look ugly in this flood of hard light that had been let in on Lord Robert’s world. The girls were sheltered by a convention for three months but at the same time they heard all sorts of things that would have horrified and bewildered his sister Mildred at their age. And he wondered if the Victorian and Edwardian eras had been no more than freakish incidents in the history of society and if their proprieties had been as artificial as the paint on a modern woman’s lips. This idea seemed abominable to Lord Robert and he felt old and lonely for the first time in his life.
“It’s the business with Donald and this blackmailing game,” he thought as he twisted aside to avoid a couple who were dancing the rumba. He had reached the door. He went into the lounge which opened off the ballroom, saw that Evelyn Carrados was not there, and made for the staircase. The stairs were covered with couples sitting out. He picked his way down and passed his nephew Donald who looked at him as if they were strangers.
“No good trying to break that down,” thought Lord Robert. “Not here. He’d only cut me and someone would notice.” He felt wretchedly depressed and tired, and was filled with a premonition of disaster that quite astonished himself. “Good God,” he thought suddenly, “I must be going to be ill.” And oddly enough this comforted him a little. In the lower hall he found Bridget O’Brien with a neat, competent-looking young woman whose face he dimly remembered.