Perdita (16 page)

“I did it,” he said, in fatal accents.

"Did what?” I asked, thinking he referred in some oblique way to Stornaway, and our predicament.

"Proposed. I am an engaged man, Moira. She said yes."

"Oh! Congratulations, John. She is very nice. You will be happy.”

“I suppose you are wondering what I see in her?” he asked, on the defensive.

“Certainly not. You already told me she is very eligible.”

“It wasn’t the money. Perdie’s richer, and I would not take her for all the fish in the sea. Millie is not very pretty, and she’s not clever or anything like that. It is just that, somehow, she is
comfortable.
I feel
right
when I am with her. Smarter, braver, better."

“She brings out the best in you.”

"That's it. And I like her. She wasn’t even mad about Perdie acting the hurly-burly girl at the picnic. I mean to get that chit out of here as soon as possible. Tomorrow morning. I’ll drive the two of you back to Mama, and then come back here.”

“That’s good, excellent. Has Stornaway said anything to you?”

“No, how should he? He never climbs out of your pocket long enough to speak to anyone. He was to meet me in the saloon before lunch, but didn’t show up, and I was not so eager to see him that I sent looking for him. It begins to look as though it was
you
he was after all the while, not Perdie. He’s disgusted with the brat, like everyone else. You’ll talk him around. You might mention the FHC. . ."

“You overestimate my influence with him. He won’t leave without his five hundred pounds, but that is not why I am come.”

He agreed to approach Millie about the loan of slippers. When I came out of his room a little later, Stornaway was coming down the hall. He looked at me—such a look! “In broad daylight, too!” he said, shaking his head.

“Do you ever get your mind out of the gutter! I only went to borrow some shoes.”

“Went to the wrong place. His would be too big,” he said, laughing as he went along to the staircase. The wretch thought I had come from an amorous assignation with John Alton!

Perdita expressed the keenest disinterest in the match John had just made. The names of Bob and Lou were often heard as she primped and preened before the mirror. While she was occupied with making faces at herself, I took up my scissors and trimmed three-quarters of the bows from her gown. The evening was not a total success, but it was not quite a disaster. The engagement was the main point of interest. It was announced after dinner, and again after the guests had assembled for dancing, to inform the newcomers of the event. No mention was made of its also being Millicent’s birthday, though she did receive some gifts. Perdita’s pretty nose was out of joint to have the interest diverted from herself, till she hit on the role of jilted lover. She cast dying glances on John for half an hour or so, speaking of “shattered dreams” and “bleak futures,” but when the fiddle and piano started up, she abandoned this melancholy pose for gayer revels.

I trailed dutifully along to the dancing room to keep an eye on her. Stornaway, behaving with suspicious propriety, appeared at my elbow. "This has taken me quite by surprise,” he said, with a meaningful look.

“I cannot imagine why! You know Perdita loves dancing, and it is my duty to watch her.”

“I refer to Alton’s engagement.”

“It is not a total surprise. He came here to propose to her, I believe.”

“A singularly inappropriate time to have brought a couple of stray women along.”

“Thank you, but we do not consider ourselves as
stray women.”

“Not for long, anyway. Alton will be eager to disencumber himself of any side liaisons, now that he is to be a groom.”

“You are familiar with the etiquette in such cases, I imagine. Did your friend Stafford do so?”

“Yes.”

“There you are, then. John will certainly resign from the FHC, before you turf him out. It is his only love other than Millicent.”

“This Dutch uncle you mentioned . . ."

“He is actually a widowed aunt, and I do not mean to give you either her name or location, so pray speak of other things, or leave.”

“Now, now, don’t be rash, Molly. You are still indebted to me, to the tune of five hundred. I don’t forget your obligation so easily. I expect more than a few smiles in return.” There was a pause, during which I stared fixedly at the dancers. “Would you like to dance?” he asked.

“No, but if you are eager to show off your superb mastery of the art, I shall be happy to watch.”

He crossed his arms and drummed his fingers impatiently on either elbow, while he regarded me thoughtfully. I could not venture into any suggestion of his thoughts. He looked pensive. Finally a frown settled between his brows. “Suit yourself,” he said curtly, then walked away. I did not see him again that evening. I believe he went to his room. I was obliged to stick it out to the bitter end, but Perdita’s suitors were attentive to her, so that she behaved only poorly, and not outrageously.

The Griffords were so happy to have nabbed John that nothing could impair their good humor. Millicent wished to be on terms with her prospective neighbor, Perdita, when she should remove to John’s home, and to this end she attempted some friendly overtures. I daresay the knowledge of our departure in the morning did more than anything else to conciliate our hosts.

There was some apprehension in my mind that John’s mother would greet us with less enthusiasm in London, now that no match between her son and Perdita was possible. But she was still a neighbor, and could hardly cast us out into the street before we heard from Mrs. Cosgrove. With the departure to look forward to, I got the evening in somehow. There was still the unfinished business of Stornaway and the money, but if we could leave very early, we might give him the slip. He could not break the door down at Alton’s place. We had only to deny him entrance till Aunt Maude came to rescue us. He had never mentioned Brighton, in any of his conversations. There was no reason he should think it was our destination. No reason we must ever see him again. It brought a profound sense of peace.

John remained below with the Grifford family for a while after the guests had all left. I prepared for bed, donned one of Mrs. Alton’s flannelette nightgowns, and went over our plans for the morrow. The thing to do was to leave very, very early. I would wait till I heard John pass by, and give him the message. I threw my pelisse over my shoulders when I heard his steps approach. I opened the door a crack to confirm it was John. “I must speak to you,” I whispered.

He stepped just inside the door. “I have told the Griffords we will be leaving early,” he said. “With luck, I can be back here by tomorrow evening. I want to pick up a ring while I am in the city. Tony is leaving tomorrow, too. He knows a spot that will give a good bargain, on tick. He is a capital fellow, really. Pity Perdie had not taken a liking for him.”

“Yes, the thing is, John, we want to leave
very early.
Not later than six-thirty, to avoid Stornaway, you know.”

“He should be gone by the time I get back tomorrow night, too. This will all blow over. Tempest in a teapot. I hope he don’t carry out his threat with the FHC. I’ll step along now and speak to him before I leave. He was not half so angry with me today as before. Well, he has learned what manner of creature Perdie is, and will no longer care a fig for all that. Let us settle on six for breakfast, then. We have made our farewells to the Griffords, so that is no problem.”

“Six is fine. The earlier, the better.”

“You might talk Tony up to Perdie a little, after I am gone, Moira. He would make such a jolly neighbor for us, and he would have to live with her, for he hasn’t a sou to his name.”

He left, before I had to reply to this piece of folly. I leaned against the back of the door and sighed in relief. While I rested, there was a light tap on the door. I was sure John had forgotten something. Without a single worry, I opened the door, to be pushed into the room by Stornaway. He came in after me, shut the door quietly behind him, and said, “Parting is such
demmed
sorrow, but you really ought to do it somewhere other than under the new fiancée’s roof, you know. Bad
ton.”
He held a lighted cigar in his left hand, I noticed.

“What do you want?” I asked, consciously lowering my voice, to prevent any passerby from hearing I had a man in my room. Lord, and they would be bound to smell the smoke, too.

“Same thing as Alton,” he answered, with an irrepressible smile. "
You.
We men are all alike, feet of clay."

“Feet! You are clay to the knees. Get out.”

“Higher!” he said, the laugh taking on a lecherous tone.

I started to back away. The pelisse slipped from my shoulder. I reached to pull it back. Stornaway’s hand came out and whipped it off, tossed it to the bed. I was dreadfully aware of that bed, spread out so conveniently behind us. I turned sideways, so that I might back against the dresser instead.

He lifted his brows to see Mrs. Alton’s antiquated flannelette gown on me. At least it was perfectly concealing, more so than my evening gown. “I had not thought Alton would be a
demanding
gentleman, to be sure, but I had thought he would do better than
this
by his women.”

“I borrowed this from his mother,” I explained, looking for any subject but the one I knew was coming.

“I shan’t ask how it came about. A fellow who drags lightskirts along on his betrothal visit would hardly cavil at having them under his ancestral roof. I must confess, though, I find it damned off-putting . . ." he added, with a dissatisfied frown. “Spinsterish!”

“Let us talk in the morning,” I suggested, taking a tentative step towards the door, hoping he would follow.

He followed all right, came smack up behind me, and put his two arms around me. “Sure, Molly, we’ll
talk
any time you like,” he said in a soft, caressing voice, “but
now . .
." He lowered his head and kissed me on the ear, which has a very peculiar effect on a person. It sent a shiver through me. I jerked away. His hand clamped my wrist in a hard grip.

“Long threatening comes at last, my pet. Time to pay the piper. Now you wouldn’t want to set up a scream and scandalize a polite household, would you, Molly old girl? A fine way to repay Alton for his troubles.”

“I will scream, if you don’t leave,” I threatened, but my voice was weak. People know when you are bluffing.

He swung me around to face him, still gripping my wrist. "Time and patience have run out. This tale of procrastinated rape, in the time-honored tradition of Richardson, has reached its climax. I
want
you, Molly.”

“But it is Perdita you—bought,” I said, stumbling over the awful word.

“I didn’t get her, and now I have changed my mind. I want you. You sharp-tongued vixens wear better. Am I not an obliging fellow, to let her off the hook? I have concluded you guard her so carefully because she is a virgin. I am not in that line,” he said. “You are more in my style.” During this bold speech, he let his eyes wander over Mrs. Alton’s gown, which cannot have told him much. At the end, he remembered his cigar, took a puff, and blew the smoke out, some of it flying into my face.

“You underbred boor!”

“I had not intended more than having a few words with you at your door, or I would have left my cigar behind. It was seeing Alton slip out that put ideas into my head. I shall get rid of the cigar, if that is what is putting you off.”

He did not let go of my wrist as he ground the cigar into the moist earth of a fern on my bedside table.

"There is a good deal more about you than the cigar that puts me off, sir.”

“Tell me what it is. I am eager to please you. And I think I know how to do it, too. Shall we discuss terms? You have five hundred already. Keep it, as there is no abbess or pimp to pay off. I’ll give you a thousand a year during pleasure. I don’t care to get into any annuity. I travel light.”

“Don’t offer me any more insults.”

The chin came up, while he looked down his nose at me. “Fifteen hundred, then. That should be an insult to please the most rapacious.”

“Get out—now.”

“Two thousand per annum. My top offer. Take it or leave it. I cannot believe Alton was half so generous.”

“This has nothing to do with generosity.”

“Everything has its price. For curiosity’s sake, I should like to know your customary one, Molly.”

“It has failed to register on your consciousness that I am a woman, not a
thing.”

“I noticed it some time ago. You certainly are a woman, a
magnificent
one, especially when you are angry. I bet they all tell you that,” he said, injecting a tone of admiration into his bold voice, while he tried once again to get his arms around me. “Twenty-five hundred,” he said, in a coaxing way, his voice growing husky.

“I’ll—I’ll get the five hundred somehow,” I told him, backing away, but he kept following me. “I’ll save it up. It will take a little while. I only make a hundred a year . . ."

“You are not exacting a sufficiently high sum from Alton, or from April’s prospective patron, either. Her earnings alone should provide you more than that.”

“Miss Brodie does not have
earnings.
She has an income, which Sir Wilfrid handles for her.”

“Molly, my dear girl, there is no need for this sham. I like you as you are, flaws and all. I am a wealthy, generous man.” There was a reasonable sound in his voice that had not been there earlier. Much good it would do me. He was not willing to listen to
my
reasoning, only his own. "This has been very amusing, a French farce, with lovers darting in and out of doors, but I want to settle the matter tonight.”

“Please go. Someone might hear you, and that cigar smoke . . ."

He laughed. “It never ceases to amaze me, how you girls will suddenly take into your heads to discover propriety, at the most implausible moments. Well, this
is
a proper household, and your friend
has
just got himself engaged, so perhaps it will be best to postpone it till tomorrow. But tomorrow, Molly . . ."