Part 30

‘Yes: I thought of that while I was in the drawing-room. But I could not get out before. I am now no longer a responsible being: Mrs. Goodman is mistress for the remainder of the day. Will you be introduced to anybody? Whom would you like to know?’

‘I am not particularly unhappy in my solitude.’

‘But you must be made to know a few.’

‘Very well--I submit readily.’

She looked away from him, and while he was observing upon her cheek the moving shadow of leaves cast by the declining sun, she said, ‘O, there is my aunt,’ and beckoned with her parasol to that lady, who approached in the comparatively youthful guise of a grey silk dress that whistled at every touch.

Paula left them together, and Mrs. Goodman then made him acquainted with a few of the best people, describing what they were in a whisper before they came up, among them being the Radical member for Markton, who had succeeded to the seat rendered vacant by the death of Paula’s father. While talking to this gentleman on the proposed enlargement of the castle, Somerset raised his eyes and hand towards the walls, the better to point out his meaning; in so doing he saw a face in the square of darkness formed by one of the open windows, the effect being that of a highlight portrait by Vandyck or Rembrandt.

It was his assistant Dare, leaning on the window-sill of the studio, as he smoked his cigarette and surveyed the gay groups promenading beneath.

After holding a chattering conversation with some ladies from a neighbouring country seat who had known his father in bygone years, and handing them ices and strawberries till they were satisfied, he found an opportunity of leaving the grounds, wishing to learn what progress Dare had made in the survey of the castle.

Dare was still in the studio when he entered. Somerset informed the youth that there was no necessity for his working later that day, unless to please himself, and proceeded to inspect Dare’s achievements thus far. To his vexation Dare had not plotted three dimensions during the previous two days. This was not the first time that Dare, either from incompetence or indolence, had shown his inutility as a house-surveyor and draughtsman.

‘Mr. Dare,’ said Somerset, ‘I fear you don’t suit me well enough to make it necessary that you should stay after this week.’

Dare removed the cigarette from his lips and bowed. ‘If I don’t suit, the sooner I go the better; why wait the week?’ he said.

‘Well, that’s as you like.’

Somerset drew the inkstand towards him, wrote out a cheque for Dare’s services, and handed it across the table.

‘I’ll not trouble you to-morrow,’ said Dare, seeing that the payment included the week in advance.

‘Very well,’ replied Somerset. ‘Please lock the door when you leave.’ Shaking hands with Dare and wishing him well, he left the room and descended to the lawn below.

There he contrived to get near Miss Power again, and inquired of her for Miss De Stancy.

‘O! did you not know?’ said Paula; ‘her father is unwell, and she preferred staying with him this afternoon.’

‘I hoped he might have been here.’

‘O no; he never comes out of his house to any party of this sort; it excites him, and he must not be excited.’

‘Poor Sir William!’ muttered Somerset.

‘No,’ said Paula, ‘he is grand and historical.’

‘That is hardly an orthodox notion for a Puritan,’ said Somerset mischievously.

‘I am not a Puritan,’ insisted Paula.

The day turned to dusk, and the guests began going in relays to the dining-hall. When Somerset had taken in two or three ladies to whom he had been presented, and attended to their wants, which occupied him three-quarters of an hour, he returned again to the large tent, with a view to finding Paula and taking his leave. It was now brilliantly lighted up, and the musicians, who during daylight had been invisible behind the ash-tree, were ensconced at one end with their harps and violins. It reminded him that there was to be dancing. The tent had in the meantime half filled with a new set of young people who had come expressly for that pastime. Behind the girls gathered numbers of newly arrived young men with low shoulders and diminutive moustaches, who were evidently prepared for once to sacrifice themselves as partners.

Somerset felt something of a thrill at the sight. He was an infrequent dancer, and particularly unprepared for dancing at present; but to dance once with Paula Power he would give a year of his life. He looked round; but she was nowhere to be seen. The first set began; old and middle-aged people gathered from the different rooms to look on at the gyrations of their children, but Paula did not appear. When another dance or two had progressed, and an increase in the average age of the dancers was making itself perceptible, especially on the masculine side, Somerset was aroused by a whisper at his elbow--

‘You dance, I think? Miss Deverell is disengaged. She has not been asked once this evening.’ The speaker was Paula.

Somerset looked at Miss Deverell--a sallow lady with black twinkling eyes, yellow costume, and gay laugh, who had been there all the afternoon--and said something about having thought of going home.

‘Is that because I asked you to dance?’ she murmured. ‘There--she is appropriated.’ A young gentleman had at that moment approached the uninviting Miss Deverell, claimed her hand and led her off.