Chapter 13 A Plucky Girl by L. T. Meade
THE UGLY DRESS
On that very day I searched through mother's wardrobe and found a piece of brown barége. It was a harsh and by no means pretty material. I held it up to the light, and asked her what she was going to do with it.
"Nothing," she answered, "I bought it ten years ago at a sale of remnants, and why it has stuck to me all these years is more than I can tell."
"May I have it?" was my next query.
"Certainly," replied mother, "but you surely are not going to have a dress made of that ugly thing?"
"May I have it?" I asked again.
"Yes, dear, yes."
I did not say any more with regard to the barége. I turned the conversation to indifferent matters, but when I left the room I took it with me. I made it into a parcel and took it out. I went to a little dressmaker in a street near by. I asked her if she would make the ugly brown barége into an evening dress. She measured the material, and said it was somewhat scanty.
"That does not matter," I said, "I want an ugly dress – can you manage to make a really ugly dress for me out of it?"
"Well, Miss Wickham," she replied, fixing her pale brown eyes on my face, "I never do go in for making ugly dresses, it would be against my profession. You don't mean it, do you, Miss Wickham?"
"Put your best work into it," I said, suddenly changing my tone. "Make it according to your own ideas of the fashion. Picture a young girl going to a play, or a ball, in that dress, and make it according to your own ideas."
"May I trim it with golden yellow chiffon and turquoise blue silk bows?" she asked eagerly, her eyes shining.
"You may," I replied, suppressing an internal shudder. I gave her a few further directions; she named a day when I should come to be fitted, and I went home.
In less than a week's time the brown barége arrived back, ready for me to wear. It was made according to Annie Starr's ideas of a fashionable evening gown. It was the sort of garment which would have sent the Duchess or Lady Thesiger into fits on the spot. In the first place, the bodice was full of wrinkles, it was too wide in the waist, and too narrow across the chest, but this was a small matter to complain of. It was the irritating air of vulgarity all over the dress which was so hard to bear. But, notwithstanding all these defects, it pleased me. It would, I hoped, answer my purpose, and succeed in making me appear very unattractive in the eyes of Mr. Randolph.
That evening I put on the brown barége for dinner. The yellow chiffon and the turquoise blue bows were much in evidence, and I did really feel that I was a martyr when I went downstairs in that dress with its outré trimmings.
When I entered the drawing-room, mother glanced up at me as if she did not know me; she then started, the colour came into her face, and she motioned me imperatively to her side.
"Go upstairs at once and take that off," she said.
"Oh no, mother," I answered, "there is no time now, besides I – I chose it, I admire it."
"Take it off immediately, Westenra."
"But it is your dear barége that you have kept for ten years," I said, trying to be playful; "I must wear it, at least to-night."
I knew that I had never looked worse, and I quite gloried in the fact. I saw Mr. Randolph from his seat near mother glance at me several times in a puzzled way, and Mr. Fanning, after one or two astonished glances, during which he took in the tout ensemble of the ugly robe, began to enter into a playful bear-like flirtation with Miss Armstrong. Dear brown barége, what service it was doing me! I secretly determined that it should be my dinner dress every evening until it wore itself to rags. When the turquoise blue bows became too shabby, I might substitute them for magenta ones. I felt that I had suddenly found an opening out of my difficulty. If I ceased to appear attractive, Mr. Randolph and Mr. Fanning would cease to worry me, the rest of the boarders would accept me for what I was, and my Gordian knot would be cut. Little did I guess! It was by no means so easy to carry out my fixed determination as I had hoped. In the first place, poor darling mother nearly fretted herself into an illness on account of my evening dress. She absolutely cried when she saw me in it, and said that if I was determined to deteriorate in that way, she would give up the boarding-house and go to the cottage in the country without a moment's hesitation. After wearing the dress for three or four days I was forced, very much against my will, to put on one of my pretty black dresses, and the barége made by Annie Starr resumed its place in my wardrobe. I determined to wear it now and then, however – it had already done me good service. I began to hope that neither Mr. Randolph nor Mr. Fanning thought me worth looking at when I appeared in it.
On this evening, as I was dressing for dinner, I heard a wonderful bumping going on in the stairs. It was the noise made by very heavy trunks, trunks so large that they seemed scarcely able to be brought upstairs. They were arriving at the attics, too – they were entering the attic next to mine. Now that special attic had up to the present remained untenanted. It was the most disagreeable room in the house. Most of the attics were quite excellent, but this room had a decidedly sloping roof, and rather small windows, and the paper on the walls was ugly, and the accommodation scanty, and what those huge boxes were going to do there was more than I could tell. The boxes, however, entered that special attic, and then a bodily presence followed them briskly, a loud hearty voice was heard to speak. It said in cheerful tones —
"Thank you, that will do nicely. A large can of hot water, please, and a couple more candles. Thanks. What hour did you say the company dined?"
The reply was made in a low tone which I could not catch, and the attic door was shut.
I was down in the drawing-room in my black dress – (how comfortable I felt in it, how hateful that brown barége was, after all) – when the door was opened, and a large, stoutly-made woman, most richly dressed, came in. She had a quantity of grizzly grey hair, which was turned back from her expansive forehead; a cap of almost every colour in the rainbow bedizened her head, she wore diamond pendants in her ears, and had a flashing diamond brooch fastening the front of her dress. Her complexion was high, she had a broad mouth and a constant smile. She walked straight up to Jane Mullins.
"Well," she said, "here I am. I have not unpacked my big trunk, as your servant said there was very little time before dinner. Please can you tell me when Albert will be in?"
"Mr. Fanning generally comes home about now," I heard Jane say. "Mrs. Fanning, may I introduce you to my dear young friend, Miss Wickham – Mrs. Wickham has not yet appeared."
To my horror I saw Miss Mullins advancing across the drawing-room, accompanied by the stout woman; they approached to my side.
"May I introduce Mrs. Fanning," said Miss Mullins – "Mr. Fanning's mother."
"The mother of dear, godly Albert," said the stout lady. "I am proud to say I am the mother of one of the best of sons. I am right pleased to meet you, Miss Wickham. I may as well say at once that Albert Fanning, my dear and only son, has mentioned your name to me, and with an approval which would make your young cheeks blush. Yes, I am the last person to encourage vanity in the young, but I must repeat that if you knew all that Albert has said, you would feel that flutter of the heart which only joy brings forth. Now, shall we both sit in a cosy corner and enjoy ourselves, and talk about Albert until dinner is ready?"
This treat was certainly not likely to cause my young cheeks to blush. On the contrary, I felt myself turning pale, and I looked round with a desperate intention of flying to Jane for protection, when the stout lady took one of my hands.
"Ah," she said, "quite up to date, a slim young hand, and a slim young figure, and a slim young face, too, for that matter. All that Albert says is true, you are a very nice-looking girl. I should not say that you had much durance in you, that remains to be proved. But come, here's a cosy corner, I have a great deal to say."
That hand of Mrs. Fanning's had a wonderfully clinging effect; it seemed to encircle my fingers something like an octopus, and she pulled me gently towards the corner she had in view, and presently had pinned me there, seating herself well in front of me, so that there was no possible escape.
The rest of the boarders now entered the drawing-room. Mother amongst others made her appearance; she went to her accustomed corner, glanced at me, saw that I was in one of my black dresses, nodded approval, concluding in her dear mind that I had probably met some old friend in the extraordinary person who was shutting me into the corner, and took no further notice.
Captain and Mrs. Furlong were well pleased to see that I was only talking to a woman, it did not matter at all to them who that woman was. And as to me I sat perfectly silent while Mrs. Fanning discoursed on Albert. She never for a single moment, I will say for her, turned the conversation into another channel. Albert was her theme, and she stuck to him with the pertinacity which would have done any leader of a debate credit. The debate was Albert. She intended before dinner was announced to give me a true insight into that remarkable man's most remarkable character.
"Yes," she said, "what Albert thinks is always to the point. Since a child he never gave me what you would call a real heartache. Determined, self-willed he is; you look, the next time you see him, at his chin, you observe the cleft in the middle; there never was a chin like that yet without a mind according – a mind, so to speak, set on the duty ahead of it – a mind that is determined to conquer. That is Albert, that is my only, godly son. You observe, when you have an opportunity, Albert's eyes. Did you ever see anything more open than the way they look at you? He don't mind whether it hurts your feelings or not; if he wants to look at you, look he will."
When she said this I nodded my head emphatically, for I had found this most disagreeable trait in Albert's eyes from the first moment I had been unfortunate enough to make his acquaintance. But Mrs. Fanning took my nod in high good humour.
"Ah, you have observed it," she said, "and no wonder, no wonder. Now, when you get an opportunity, do pull him to pieces, feature by feature; notice his brow, how lofty it is; there's talent there, and t'aint what you would call a fly-away talent, such as those art talents that make me quite sick. He has no talent, thank Heaven, for painting or for poetry, or for any fal-lal of that kind, his talent lies in a sound business direction. Oh, he has made me roar, the way he talks of young authors and young artists, how they come to him with their wares, and how he beats them down. It's in Albert's brow where his talent for business lies. You mark his nose too, it's somewhat long and a little pointed, but it's the nose of a man who will make his mark; yes, he'll make his mark some day, and I have told him so over and over."
Having gone through all Albert's features, she next proceeded to describe Albert's character, and then went on to Albert's future. From this it was an easy step to Albert's wife, and Albert's wife took up a great deal of the good woman's attention.
"It is because I am thinking he'll soon be falling into the snares of matrimony that I have come to stay at 17 Graham Square," continued Mrs. Fanning. "And it's because I want my dear and godly son to get a wife who will be on the pattern of Solomon's virtuous woman that I have given up my home and broken up my establishment and come here. Now, Miss Wickham, my dear young lady, did you or did you not hear the noise of my boxes being brought upstairs?"
"Then you happen to occupy the bedroom next to mine?"
"I do," I said.
"That is very nice indeed, for often of an evening we will keep each other company and discourse on Albert, to the joy of both our hearts. The boxes are receptacles for my household gods, dear, those dear mementoes of the past, that I could not quite part with. Don't suppose for a moment that they are full of dresses, for although my taste is light and festive, Albert likes gay colours, he says they remind him of the sales of remnants in the autumn. Dear fellow, it was the most poetical thing he ever uttered, but he has said it once or twice. I can show you my household treasures when you feel disposed to have an evening's real recreation. The burden of this house, and with so delicate a mother as your good Ma, must be heavy upon a young lass like you, but Albert tells me – but there! I won't say any more just now, for you'll blush, and I don't want you to blush, and I don't want to encourage those hopes that may never be realised. I may as well whisper, though, that Albert is looking out for a wife who will be a pattern of Solomon's virtuous woman, and when he finds her, why she'll be lucky, that's all I can say."
Just then the pretty silver gong sounded, and people began to stand up preparatory to going down to dinner. It was difficult even then to move Mrs. Fanning, and for a wild moment I had a fear that I might be imprisoned behind her in the drawing-room all during dinner, while she still discoursed upon Albert and his attractions. Miss Mullins, however, came to the rescue.
"Come, Miss Wickham," she cried, "we must lead the way," and accordingly Jane, my mother, and I went down first, and the different boarders followed us.
To my infinite distress Mrs. Fanning, being a complete stranger, had her seat next mine. I had one comfort, however, she was better than Albert; and Albert, who arrived presently himself, found that he was seated next Miss Armstrong. He nodded across at his mother.
"How do, old lady," he said, "glad to find you cosily established; everything all right, eh?"
"Yes, Albert, my son," replied the good woman, "everything is all right, and I have been having a long conversation about you with my interesting young friend here, Miss Westenra Wickham. By-the-by, dear, would you kindly tell me how you got that outlandish name, I never heard it before, and I do not believe it belongs to the Christian religion."
"I did not know there was anything heathenish about it," I could not help answering; "it happens to be my name, and I was fully baptized by it."
"I will see presently whether I can take to it," responded the old lady. "Soup? Yes, please. I will trouble you, my good girl, for (turning to the maid) a table-spoon; I never take soup with a dessert spoon. Thanks; that's better."
Mrs. Fanning now gave me a few moments peace, and I found, to my great satisfaction, that she had an excellent appetite, and was also extremely critical with regard to her food. I introduced her to her next door neighbour, who happened to be a fat little woman, something like herself in build. They were both gourmands, and criticised adversely the meal to their mutual pleasure. Thus I had time to look around me, and to consider this new aspect of affairs. Things were scarcely likely to be more comfortable if Albert had now got his mother to plead his cause with me. He glanced at me several times during the meal, and once even favoured me with a broad wink – he was really intolerable.
Meanwhile Miss Armstrong was all blushes and smirks. I heard her suggest to Mr. Fanning that she should go the next day to see him, and bring some of her drawings with her, and I heard him tell her in what he was pleased to call his brutal manner that he would not be at home, and if he were and she came would certainly not see her. This seemed to be considered a tremendous joke by Miss Armstrong, and her mother also joined in it, and gave Mr. Fanning a dig in the ribs, and told him that he was the soul of wit, and had the true spirit of heart.
Meanwhile, Mr. Randolph, my mother, Captain and Mrs. Furlong, and the more refined portion of the establishment enjoyed themselves at the other end of the table. I saw Mr. Randolph glance down in my direction once or twice, and I am sure, although he was not able to judge of the difference, the fact of seeing me once more in my properly made black evening dress relieved his mind, for he looked quite contented, and turned in a cheerful manner to my mother, and when dinner was over, and we returned to the drawing-room, I was lucky enough to be able to escape Mrs. Fanning and to go up to the other end of the room, where I seated myself close to mother, took hold of her hand, leant against her chair, and indulged in the luxury of talking to Mr. Randolph. He was in a very good humour, and suggested that we should make a party on the following evening to another play, which was then very much in vogue.
"But not in the chocolate-coloured brougham with the pair of horses," I said.
"We will have a cab from the nearest stand, if you prefer it," was his instant response.
"I should much," I answered.
"And we will not dine at the Cecil," he continued; "we can have a sort of high tea here before we start."
"That I should also like infinitely better," I answered.
"It shall be as you please," was his response. Then he began to tell us something of the play which we were about to see, and I forgot all about my discomforts, and enjoyed myself well.
I was putting things in order in the drawing-room that night, for this was always one of my special duties, when Mr. Fanning, who had left the room a long time ago, came back. He came up to me holding his lighted candle in his hand. I started when I saw him.
"Good night," I said coldly.
"Pray don't go for a moment," he said. "I have come back here on the express chance of seeing you."
"I cannot wait now, Mr. Fanning," I replied.
"But I really must have an interview with you, it is of the highest importance, – when can I see you alone? When can you give me an hour of your time quite undisturbed?"
"Never," I answered brusquely.
"Now you will forgive me for saying that that is pure nonsense. If you will not promise me an hour of your own free will I shall take the present opportunity of speaking to you."
"But I shall not stay," I answered with spirit, "and you cannot keep me here against my will. Mr. Fanning, I also will take the present opportunity of telling you that you and I have nothing in common, that I dislike your singling me out for special conversations of any kind, and that I hope in the future you will clearly understand that I do not wish you to do so."
"Oh, that is all very fine," he said, "but come now; what have I done to make myself obnoxious? There is the old lady upstairs, she has taken no end of a fancy to you, she says you are the most charming and the prettiest girl she has ever seen, and what have you to say against my mother? Let me tell you that she has come to this house on purpose to make your acquaintance."
"I have nothing whatever to say against your mother, Mr. Fanning, but I object to the subject of conversation which she chooses to occupy her time with while talking to me. I am not in the least interested in you, and I wish you and your mother clearly to understand this fact as quickly as possible."
I do not think it was in the nature of Mr. Fanning ever to look crestfallen, or my present speech might have made him do so. He did not even change colour, but he looked at me out of those eyes which his mother had so vividly described, and after a moment said softly —
"There will come a day when you will regret this. An honest heart is offered to you and you trample it in the dust, but there will come a day when you will be sorry. How do you think this establishment is working?"
I was so astonished and relieved at his change of conversation that I said —
"It seems to be going very well, don't you think so?"
"It is going well for my purpose," he replied, and then he added, "it is working itself out in a way that will only spell one word – Ruin. Now you ponder on that. Take it as your night-cap, and see what sort of sleep you'll have, and when next I ask for a few moments' conversation perhaps you'll not say no. I will not keep you any longer for the present."
He left the room, I heard his footsteps dying down the corridor, and the next instant he had slammed his bedroom door.