"It is Norah, or Veronica, or
Geraldine, or Patricia; yes, it is Patricia, - I know it as well as
if I had been at the christening. - Dawson, take the tea-things,
please; and do you know the name of the gentleman who has bought the
house on the opposite side?"
"It is Lord Brighton, miss." (You would never believe it, but we
find the name is spelled Brighthelmston.) "He hasn't bought the
'ouse; he has taken it for a week, and is giving a ball there on the
Tuesday evening. He has four daughters, miss, and two h'orphan
nieces that generally spends the season with 'im. It's the youngest
daughter he is bringing out, that lively one you saw cutting about
just now. They 'ave no ballroom, I expect, in their town 'ouse,
which accounts for their renting one for this occasion. They
stopped a month in this 'otel last year, so I have the honour of
m'luds acquaintance."
"Lady Brighthelmston is not living, I should judge," remarked
Salemina, in the tone of one who thinks it hardly worth while to
ask.
"Oh, yes, miss, she's alive and 'earty; but the daughters manages
everythink, and what they down't manage the h'orphan nieces does.
The 'ouse is run for the young ladies, but m'ludanlady seems to
enjoy it."
Dovermarle Street was so interesting during the next few days that
we could scarcely bear to leave it, lest something exciting should
happen in our absence.
"A ball is so confining!" said Francesca, who had come back from the
corner of Piccadilly to watch the unloading of a huge van, and found
that it had no intention of stopping at Number Nine on the opposite
side.
First came a small army of charwomen, who scrubbed the house from
top to bottom. Then came men with canvas for floors, bronzes and
jardinieres and somebody's family portraits from an auction-room,
chairs and sofas and draperies from an upholsterer's.
The night before the event itself I announced my intention of
staying in our own drawing-room the whole of the next day. "I am
more interested in Patricia's debut," I said, "than anything else
that can possibly happen in London. What if it should be wet, and
won't it be annoying if it is a cold night and they draw the heavy
curtains close together?"
But it was beautiful day, almost too warm for a ball, and the heavy
curtains were not drawn. The family did not court observation; it
was serenely unconscious of such a thing. As to our side of the
street, I think we may have been the only people at all interested
in the affair now so imminent. The others had something more
sensible to do, I fancy, than patching up romances about their
neighbours.
At noon the florists decorated the entrance with palms, covered the
balcony with a gay awning, and hung the railing with brilliant
masses of scarlet and yellow flowers. At two the caterers sent
silver, tables, linen, and dishes, and a Broadwood grand piano was
installed; but at half-past seven, when we sat down to dinner, we
were a trifle anxious, because so many things seemed yet to do
before the party could be a complete success.
Mr. Beresford and his mother were dining with us, and we had sent
invitations to our London friends, the Hon. Arthur Ponsonby and
Bertie Godolphin, to come later in the evening. These read as
follows:-
Private View
The pleasure of your company is requested
at the coming-out party of
The Hon. Patricia Brighthelmston
July - - 189-
On the opposite side of the street.
Dancing about 10-30. 9 Dovermarle Street.
At eight o'clock, as we were finishing our fish course, which
chanced to be fried sole, the ball began literally to roll, and it
required the greatest ingenuity on Francesca's part and mine to be
always down in our seats when Dawson entered with the dishes, and
always at the window when he was absent.
An enormous van had appeared, with half a dozen men walking behind
it. In a trice, two of them had stretched a wire trellis across one
wall of the drawing-room, and two more were trailing roses from
floor to ceiling. Others tied the dark wood of the stair railing
with tall Madonna lilies; then they hung garlands of flowers from
corner to corner and, alas! could not refrain from framing the
mirror in smilax, nor from hanging the chandeliers with that same
ugly, funereal, and artificial-looking vine, - this idea being the
principal stock-in-trade of every florist in the universe.
We could not catch even a glimpse of the supper-rooms, but we saw a
man in the fourth story front room filling dozens of little glass
vases, each with its single malmaison, rose, or camellia, and
despatching them by an assistant to another part of the house; so we
could imagine from this the scheme of decoration at the tables. - No,
not new, perhaps, but simple and effective.
By the time we had finished our entree, which happened to be lamb
cutlets and green peas, and had begun our roast, which was chicken
and ham, I remember, they had put wreaths at all the windows, hung
Japanese lanterns on the balcony and in the oak-tree, and
transformed the house into a blossoming bower.
At this exciting juncture Dawson entered unexpectedly with our
sweet, and for the first and only time caught us literally 'red-
handed.' Let British subjects be interested in their neighbours, if
they will (and when they refrain I am convinced that it is as much
indifference as good breeding), but let us never bring our country
into disrepute with an English butler! As there was not a single
person at the table when Dawson came in, we were obliged to say that
we had finished dinner, thank you, and would take coffee; no sweet
to-night, thank you.
