That Unfortunate Marriage Volume I Part 10

The Major did not know the Dormer-Smiths, and had no interest in pursuing the subject. He turned to join in the conversation going on between Mr. Bransby, the canon, and Dr. Hatch, and then Theodore slipped out of his place and went to sit nearer to Mr. Bragg, who was looking a little solitary. Mr. Bragg had a great many good qualities, but he was usually considered to be heavy in hand from a conversational point of view. Theodore, however, did not find him dull. He talked to Mr. Bragg with an agreeable sense of making an excellent figure in the eyes of that millionaire. Theodore had a strong memory, considerable powers of application, and had read a great many solid books. He favoured Mr.

Bragg now with a speech on the subject of the currency, about which he had read all the most modern theories up to date. The currency, he felt, must be a peculiarly interesting subject to a man who sold millions and billions of tin-tacks in all the markets of the world. Mr. Bragg drank his wine, keeping his eyes on the table, and listened with silent attention. Theodore, warmed by a mental vision of himself speaking in a breathless House of Commons, rose to parliamentary heights of eloquence.

He had already addressed Mr. Bragg as "Sir," and had sternly inquired what he supposed would be the consequence if the present movement in favour of bimetallism should be still further developed in the United States, when he was interrupted by his father's voice saying--

"Come, shall we ask Mrs. Bransby for a cup of coffee?"

Mr. Bragg lifted his eyes and rose from his chair, and Theodore and he moved towards the door side by side.

"It ought to be boiled in a basin, oughtn't it?" said Mr. Bragg thoughtfully. "Ah, no; it wasn't you. I remember now, it was Miss Patty Piper who was mentioning--I'll ask her again when we get upstairs."

Meanwhile the elder ladies had been deep in the discussion of Miss Piper's interrupted story. Constance and May had got close together near the pianoforte, and Mrs. Bransby asked Constance to play something "soft and pretty." Constance opened the instrument and ran her fingers over the keys in a desultory manner, playing sc.r.a.ps of waltzes or whatever came into her head, and continuing her chat with May to that running accompaniment. Mrs. Bransby, Mrs. Hadlow, and the Miss Pipers grouped themselves near the fireplace at the other end of the room, and carried on their talk also under cover of the music.

"It was odd enough that on my happening to mention the name of the Moretti to Major Mitton he should remember her at Malta so many years ago," began Miss Piper.

"Yes; and you see now that I was right, and she can't be so young as you thought her, Polly," said her sister.

"Lord, what does that matter? I only said she looked young, and so she did. And besides, I dare say the Major exaggerates her age. When a woman becomes a celebrity, or comes before the public in any way, her age is sure to be exaggerated. Many people who only know me through my works suppose me to be eighty, I dare say. They never imagine a woman so young as I was at the time composing a serious work like 'Esther.'"

"Is she handsome, this Signora Moretti?" asked Mrs. Bransby, who was always interested in, and attracted by, beauty.

"Very handsome--in that Italian style. Great black eyes, and black eyebrows, and a fine profile. Too thin, though. But, oh yes; extremely handsome. And a very clever singer."

"And a very worthless hussey," added Miss Patty severely.

"What a pity!" exclaimed Mrs. Hadlow. "It does seem so sad when one finds great gifts, like talent and beauty, without goodness!"

"Well, I don't know that she was so very bad either," replied Miss Piper.

"Goodness, Polly! How can you talk so!" cried her sister. "Why, she was living openly with that Englishman!"

"Some people said she was married to him, you know, Patty."

"Stuff and nonsense!" returned Miss Patty, who, whilst undoubtedly accepting her sister's views about music, tenaciously reserved the right of private judgment as to the character of its professors, and was, moreover, chronically incredulous of the virtue of foreigners in general. "No sensible person could believe that. And as to her 'not being so very bad'--what do you make of that nice story of the gambling, and the police, and all the rest of it?"

"The police!" echoed Mrs. Hadlow, in a low shocked voice.

"What was that?" asked Mrs. Bransby.

"Now, just let me tell it, Patty," said the elder sister. "If I am wrong you can correct me afterwards. But I believe I know more about it than you do. Well, there was an Italian Opera Company singing in a minor theatre of Brussels when we were there, and doing very well; for the _prima donna_, Bianca Moretti, was a great favourite. They had previously been making a tour through Belgium. One night we were in the theatre with some friends, expecting to hear her for the second time in the 'Barbiere,' when, some time after the curtain ought to have risen, a man came on to the stage, and announced that the Signora Moretti had been suddenly taken ill, and there would be no performance. But the next day we learned that the story of the Moretti's illness was only an excuse--or, at least, that if she was ill, it was only from the nervous shock of having her house searched by the police."

"I think that was quite enough to make her ill! But why did they search her house?" said Mrs. Bransby.

"Well, you see, it was in this way," continued Miss Piper, lowering her voice, and drawing a little nearer to her hostess, while Mrs. Hadlow cast a glance over her shoulder to a.s.sure herself that the girls were occupied with their own conversation. "It seems that a set of men were in the habit of meeting every night after the opera in her apartment to play cards. There was the Englishman, and a young Russian belonging to a grand family, and a Servian, or a Roumanian, or a Bulgarian, or something," said Miss Piper, whose ideas as to the national distinctions between the younger members of the European family were decidedly vague, "and others besides. Now this man, the--the Bulgarian, we may as well call him, was a thorough blackleg, and bore the worst of characters. He led on the Russian to play for very high stakes, and won large sums from him. Well, to make a long story short, one night there was a terrible scene. The Russian accused the other man of cheating. They came to blows, I believe, and there was a regular _esclandre_. And next day the Bulgarian was missing. He had got away with a good deal of plunder."

"How shocking and disgraceful!" exclaimed Mrs. Hadlow, in whom this gossip excited far more disgust than interest; and who thought Polly Piper showed very bad taste in selecting such a topic.

"But why did the police search the Italian singer's apartment? It was not _her_ fault, was it?" asked Mrs. Bransby.

"Why, you see, the gambling had gone on in her rooms. And the Bulgarian turning out to be connected with a regular gang of swindlers, the search was made for any letters or papers of his that might be there. We were told that the Russian amba.s.sador had something to say to it; for the young Russian was connected with _very_ high people indeed. Nothing was found, however."

"Nothing was found that could be laid hold of," put in Miss Patty. "But there could be no question what sort of a person that woman was after all that!"

"Well, really, Patty," said her sister, "it seems to me that the Englishman was a deal more to blame. n.o.body pretended that the Moretti wanted to gamble for her own amus.e.m.e.nt, or profit either! It was the ruin of her in Brussels; at any rate for that season. There was a party made up to hiss her whenever she appeared; and there were disturbances in the theatre; and, in short, the performances had to cease. I was sorry for her."

"Upon my word, Polly, I don't see why you should be," cried Miss Patty.

"She deserved all she got. I have no patience with bestowing pity and sympathy on such creatures. If she had been an ugly washerwoman, instead of a painted opera-singer, n.o.body would have had a soft word for her."

"Oh, surely there are plenty of people who would be gentle to an ugly washerwoman, if she needed gentleness," put in Mrs. Hadlow. "And you know, my dear Miss Patty, we are taught to pity all those who stray from the right path."

"As to that, I hope I can pity error as well as my neighbours--in a _religious_ sense," returned Miss Patty with some sharpness. "But this is different. I was speaking as a member of society."

"And the Englishman--was he implicated?" asked Mrs. Bransby, rather from a desire to divert the conversation from a direction fraught with danger to the general harmony than from any special curiosity on the subject.

"No; not exactly implicated," replied Miss Piper. "That is to say, he was not suspected of any unfair play, or anything of that sort; but it was considered disgraceful for him to have been mixed up in these gambling transactions; especially as he was a much older man than the others. And then----"

"And then," continued Miss Patty, "it was not considered exactly creditable, I believe--although perhaps Polly thinks it was; I'm sure I don't know,--it wasn't, most people would say, exactly creditable for a man of family, an English _gentleman_, to be strolling about the world with a parcel of foreign singers. And he had been doing just that. We heard of his being at Antwerp, and Ghent, and Ostend with them."

"A man of family, do you say? A really well-born man?" said Mrs. Hadlow, sitting suddenly very upright in the energy of her feelings. "How shocking! That really seems to be the worst of all!"

"Well, I suppose we must pity _his_ errors," observed Miss Patty, with some causticity. But Mrs. Hadlow was insensible to the sarcasm; or, at all events, her sense of it was swallowed up by a stronger feeling. "I do think it's a public misfortune," she went on, "when a person on whom Providence has bestowed gentle birth derogates from his rank and forgets his duties. It grieves me."

"You must suffer a good deal in these days, I'm afraid," said Miss Patty, grimly.

"Not on that account," replied Mrs. Hadlow. "No; truly not. There may be exceptions--I won't deny that there are some. But, on the whole, I thoroughly believe that _bon sang ne peut mentir_."

"Well, perhaps Mr. Cheffington's blood is not so good as he says it is; that's all," said Miss Patty, with a short laugh.

Mrs. Hadlow and Mrs. Bransby uttered a simultaneous exclamation of amazement; and then the former said in a breathless whisper, "Hush, hush, my dear, for mercy's sake! Did you say Cheffington? That is--Cheffington is the name of that girl! Don't turn your head."

"Oh, it can't be the same!" said Mrs. Bransby, nervously.

"No, no; I dare say not. But the name--it must, I fear, be a member of the family," answered Mrs. Hadlow.

"How lucky it wasn't mentioned in her hearing," said Miss Piper. "Poor little thing, I wouldn't for the world----! She's very pretty and bright-looking. I don't think I ever saw her before."

Mrs. Bransby hurriedly explained how May came to be there, and as much of her story as she was acquainted with--which was, in truth, very little. The Miss Pipers listened eagerly, and Mrs. Hadlow sat by with a cloud of anxious perplexity on her usually beaming face. They all admitted that of course the person spoken of _might_ be no relation of May's at all; but it was evident that no one believed that hypothesis.

To the Miss Pipers the whole matter was simply a relis.h.i.+ng morsel of gossip. They dwelt with _gusto_ on "the extraordinary coincidence" of Miss Cheffington's being there just that very evening, and "the singular circ.u.mstance" that Major Mitton should remember Bianca Moretti, and enjoyed it all very much. Mrs. Bransby's prevalent feeling was one of annoyance, and resentment against Theodore, who had brought this girl into the house. Mrs. Bransby detested a "fuss" of any sort; and shrank, with a sort of amiable indolence, from the conflict of provincial feuds and the excitement of provincial gossip. And now, she reflected, this story would be spread all over Oldchester, and she would be "worried to death" by questions on a subject about which she knew very little, and cared less.

"We won't say another word about this horrid story," she said, looking appealingly at the Miss Pipers. "Silence is the only thing under the circ.u.mstances. Don't you think so? It would be so dreadful if the girl should overhear anything, and make a scene; wouldn't it?"

Miss Polly and Miss Patty readily promised to be most guardedly silent--for that evening, and so long as May should be present; declaring quite sincerely that they would not for the world risk hurting the poor child's feelings. And then Mrs. Bransby began to flatter herself that the subject was done with, so far as she was concerned. But Fate had decided otherwise.

When the gentlemen came into the drawing-room, Miss Hadlow was playing one of her most brilliant pieces, to which Miss Polly Piper was listening with an air of responsible attention, and gently nodding her head from time to time in an encouraging manner; Miss Patty Piper and May were looking over a large alb.u.m full of photographs together; while Mrs. Bransby was narrating to Mrs. Hadlow, Bobby's latest witticisms, and Billy's extraordinary progress in the art of spelling:--these juvenile prodigies being her two younger children.

Constance did not interrupt her performance on the entrance of the gentlemen, and Major Mitton went to stand beside the pianoforte, gallantly turning over the music leaves at the wrong moment, with the best intentions. Canon Hadlow sat down near Miss Piper; the host with Dr. Hatch crossed the room to speak to Mrs. Hadlow, and Mr. Bragg and Theodore approached the table, at which Miss Patty and May Cheffington were seated. Mr. Bragg drew up a chair close to Miss Patty at once, and began to talk with her in a low voice, and with more appearance of animation than his manner usually displayed. Theodore, as he observed this, remembered with satisfaction that his friend Captain Cheffington had formerly p.r.o.nounced old Bragg to be a d----d sn.o.b. A man must indeed be on a low level who could prefer Miss Patty Piper's culinary conversation to a luminous exposition of the currency question as set forth by Mr. Theodore Bransby. He bent over May, who was still turning the leaves of the photograph book, and said, "I'm afraid you are not having a very amusing evening, Miss Cheffington."

"Oh yes, thank you," returned May, making the queerest little grimace in her effort not to yawn. "I am very fond of looking at photographs."

"I don't suppose there are many portraits there that you would recognize. A little out of your set," said Theodore. "In fact, I don't know many of them myself, I have been so much away. By the way, have you any commands for your people in town? I go up the day after to-morrow."