It was not until nearly six o'clock that the sound of a car driving up the long gravel sweep heralded the arrival of Geoffrey Billington-Smith and his proposed bride. Stephen Guest and Basil Halliday had gone into the billiard-room, and through the open windows at the other end of the terrace came the intermittent click of the balls. Fay also had left the terrace, on some murmured pretext. There remained Camilla, languorous in her long chair, holding an idly flirtatious conversation with the General, and Dinah, talking in a desultory fashion to Captain Billington-Smith.
"Would you like me to make love to you, darling?" inquired Francis.
"Do just as you like; I needn't listen," replied Dinah.
"It seems to be the order of the day," he said softly."You don't like me a bit, do you, my sweet?"
"No, not much."
He accepted this with his faintly mocking smile, and continued to smoke for a minute or two in silence. "I'm not entirely sure that I like you," he remarked presently. "I've been trying to make up my mind about it. Let us change the subject. This is really very tiresome of Geoffrey, don't you agree?"
"Yes, but it ought to be rather good value. Do you know Lola?"
"I haven't taken her out to dinner, if that is what you mean. I've seen her dance. She wore feathers — not very many of them, but so artfully placed. No, I don't think Uncle will be pleased." He glanced towards her, and added affably: "How right you are, darling! Naturally I should be delighted if Geoffrey were disinherited in favour of me, but one must never bank on the future, must one? It is so like Geoffrey to put his father in a bad temper just when I want him mellow. Do not look so warningly at me: neither of them is paying the least heed to us. I am always careful not to offend Uncle."
"I thought you must have come to make a touch," said Dinah.
"You mustn't pride yourself on your intuition, however. It was quite obvious. I cannot conceive any other reason for wishing to come here. Or rather I can, of course, but there's a law — Mosaic, I fancy — against making love to one's aunts."
It was at this moment that the car-wheels were heard. They did not penetrate to the General's consciousness, but in another few minutes Fay came out on to the terrace from the drawing-room and interrupted his tête-a-tête with the news that Geoffrey had arrived.
"Well, what of it?" demanded the General. "Does he expect me to wait for him on the door-step?"
"Arthur — Miss de Silva!" said Fay, on a note of entreaty.
The General turned as his son's betrothed stepped out on to the terrace.
Miss de Silva made her entrance as one accustomed to being received by volleys of applause.
It was not difficult to see why Geoffrey, who was standing smiling nervously and a little fatuously over her shoulder, had fallen in love with her. She was a most striking lady, even beautiful, with enormous dark eyes, an enchanting nose, a lovely, petulant mouth, and clusters of black curls springing from under the very latest thing in hats — a tiny confection, daringly worn over one-half of her head.
Her orange and black and jade suit (though labelled "Sports Wear" by the genius who designed it) might have been considered by some people to be unsuitable for a drive into the country, nor, on a warm June afternoon, did an immensely long stole of silver fox furs all clipped together, heads to tails, seem really necessary. But no one could deny that Miss de Silva carried these well.
Until her arrival Camilla Halliday had seemed a little overdressed, a little too heavily made up, but no other woman's dress or make-up could appear remarkable when Miss de Silva was present.
The General got up, blinking, and his prospective daughter-in-law at once introduced herself, "I am Lola," she said. "You know me, perhaps, but still I present myself."
The General shook hands with her, as one in honour bound. "No, I can't say that I do," he replied stiffly.
A slightly austere look crept over Miss de Silva's face. "That is to me extraordinary," she said. "But it is seen that you live retired, and I am not at all offended. I have a mind extremely large. It is impossible to offend me. But I must tell you that I find myself in great distraction, and at once the affair must be arranged, if you please."
"What affair?" said the General, casting a goaded look towards his wife.
"It's all right, Arthur. I've given orders about it," Fay said placatingly. "There wasn't room in Geoffrey's car for Miss de Silva's maid, and she is coming by train. Miss de Silva wants her to be met."
"And if she has not arrived on the train, which is a thing one must fear, for she is a great fool, Geoffrey must go at once to London, for it is quite his fault, and he has behaved with a stupidity which is remarkable, to think that my luggage can be put in his little car."
"Shouldn't have thought there was the least difficulty about it myself," said Sir Arthur. "Ridiculous nonsense!"
Fay, resolutely refusing to catch her sister's eye, laid a hand on Miss de Silva's arm. "Please don't worry about it!" she begged. "I'm sure she will arrive quite safely. I want to introduce you to Mrs. Halliday, and to my sister, Miss Fawcett." Miss de Silva summed up both these ladies in one cursory glance, and bestowed on them her hashing smile. "And to my husband's nephew, Captain Billington-Smith," added Fay.
Francis rose superbly to the occasion and gracefully kissed the fair Lola's hand. "Need I say that this is a much-longed-for moment?" he said. "I have had the inestimable pleasure of seeing you dance."
Miss de Silva accepted this. "I dance very well," she stated. "All over the world people say how well I dance."
"I'm afraid we don't go in for that sort of thing down here," said Sir Arthur crushingly. "Though I've seen the Russians. Marvellous! Most perfect dancing!"
"I dance better than the Russians," said Miss de Silva simply.
Once more Fay intervened. "We shall hope to see you one day. But won't you sit down? I'm sure you'd like some tea after your drive, wouldn't you?"
Lola disposed herself in one of the wicker-chairs, and allowed the silver fox stole to fall to the ground. "I do not drink tea, and it is too late now. I will have instead one little cocktail."
This was too much for Sir Arthur, growing steadily redder in the face. "In this house, my dear young lady, cocktails are not served at six o'clock," he announced.
"Then it is better that Geoffrey shall mix it for me," decided Lola, quite unruffled. "I shall not make any trouble for you then, and besides Geoffrey knows how it is I like my cocktail, and that is important too."
Sir Arthur's voice took on a peculiarly harsh note. "Cocktails," he said, "will be served in the drawing-room at a quarter to eight, and not, let me assure you, one moment earlier."
At this moment, before Lola, who was gazing at her host in an inquiring and quite uncomprehending manner, could reply, Guest and Halliday came out of the billiard-room, and a diversion was thus created. Under cover of fresh introductions Dinah whispered to Geoffrey that he must take Lola into the house. She had discovered that her week-end was to be a strenuous one, but she was not the girl to shirk an obvious duty. Since Geoffrey seemed incapable of moving Lola from the terrace, she announced that she was sure she had caught the sound of a car. "It's probably your maid," she told Lola. "Shall we go and see?"
"Ah yes, that I must see at once," agreed Miss de Silva.
"I'm if it is not Concetta, Geoffrey must instantly go to find her."
"Yes, of course," nodded Dinah, and shepherded her into the house. Geoffrey followed, bringing the silver fox stole.
"The future Mrs. Billington-Smith," murmured Francis, taking a cigarette from his flat gold case.
The General rounded on him. "Hold your tongue, sir!"
"Of course, I think she's too marvellous!" said Camilla, giggling. "But I do utterly understand how you feel, Sir Arthur. I think it's terribly sweet of you to let him bring her."
"He won't bring her a second time," said the General grimly. "Brazen, painted hussy! Cocktails! Fay, you'll kindly make that young woman understand that in this house my word is law! I don't want to have any unpleasantness, so I'm warning you! You asked her here, and I'll thank you to see that she conforms to the rules of the place. Now I don't want to hear another word on the subject, and I'm sure your guests don't either. Come, Camilla, let me take you round the gardens: the roses are at their best, I flatter myself."
Once inside the house Dinah tried to explain to Lola. At first Lola could not be brought to heed anything beyond the fact that Concetta had not yet arrived, but when it had been made plain to her that the train from London was not due at Ralton Station for another ten minutes, she consented to postpone Geoffrey's departure a little longer, and to go up to her bedroom with Dinah.
"It is very well thought of," she approved. "Geoffrey has been very selfish to bring me in an open car which will not take my luggage, and perhaps I am untidy from the wind. I shall arrange myself, and Geoffrey shall bring my cocktail up to me. And there must not be any gin, Geoffrey, but absinthe, for gin is a thing that makes me completely sick."
"I shouldn't think there's any absinthe in the house," said Dinah. "Still, I daresay Finch will think of something.
I'll carry the fur, Geoffrey: you attend to the drink question. I wonder which room you're having, Miss de Silva? We'd better inspect."
Happily there was a housemaid on the landing who had just finished unpacking Miss de Silva's advance baggage, and she was able to direct them. She eyed Lola with the envious admiration she accorded only to film stars, and when Dinah saw the results of her unpacking she was not surprised. The dressing-table was loaded with innumerable toilet jars, scent flagons, brushes, rouge-pots, and powder-bowls, all with opulent enamel fittings. A negligee, very like the one worn by Dawson's favourite star in her last film, was laid reverently over a chair, and in the big mahogany wardrobe was hanging an evening frock that might have come straight from Hollywood.
"Oh, I'm sure she's on the films!" Dawson breathed to Mrs. Moxon in the kitchen. "You never saw anything to equal the dresses she's got. Oh, they're lovely, Mrs. Moxon! they are really! She's like Lupe Velez, that's who she's like. Oo, I wonder if it could be her, under an assumed name — you know how they do?"
"Films!" snorted Mrs. Moxon, banging the rolling-pin on the board with unnecessary force. "She's one of them good-for-nothing cabaret girls, that's what she is. And when you've been in service a bit longer nor what you live, Joan Dawson, you'll have more sense than to go goggling at her sort. Get out of my way, do!"
Upstairs in the sunny bedroom Miss de Silva had thrown the negligee on to the bed, tossed her hat after it, and sat herself down at the dressing-table, anxiously surveying her face in the mirror. "It is terrible!" she announced, and snatched the lid from one of the powder-bowls. "It is not polite to make a complaint, and I therefore I say nothing, for I have very good manners, I assure you, but it should not be permitted that a man should demand of anyone that they motor in an open car. Naturally there must be a wind. I am not unreasonable, and I do not expect there to be no wind, but Geoffrey should have a car which is not open and which will take Concetta as well."
Dinah curled herself up on the window-seat, frankly enjoying Miss de Silva. "I know," she said sympathetically. "Men are so thoughtless, aren't they? I don't suppose he explained about his father either."
"But no: you mistake," Lola corrected her. "It is all explained to me. He is of a type difficult to manage. That one sees."
"Yes," said Dinah, "but — but I'm afraid Geoffrey's father is a little more than difficult."
"There is no need that I should disturb myself," replied Lola, attending carefully to her eyelashes. "I do not know where is Geoffrey, and why he does not bring me my cocktail?"
There did not seem to be much hope of impressing upon Miss de Silva the need to deal tactfully with her host, so Dinah, never one to waste time in pursuing lost causes, abandoned the subject, and asked curiously: "Are you very fond of Geoffrey?"
She was right in supposing that Lola would not in the least resent so personal a question. Lola replied with great promptitude: "Naturally, I love him extremely. I love very often, you understand, and always passionately. It is not so with the English, I find, for you have in general very cold hearts. It is not at all so with me. I have a very warm heart, very profound."
A knock on the door interrupted her. Geoffrey appeared carrying a tray, with glasses and shaker on it. "I say, we shall have to keep this dark," he said. "Father would have a fit if he knew. Darling, I'm so frightfizlly sorry, but there's no absinthe."
The look of rigidity which Dinah had noticed before instantly possessed Lola's face. "But it is to me incomprehensible that when you know that I wish absinthe in my cocktail you do not at once arrange it, my dear Geoffrey. Perhaps it is that you do not concern yourself with what I like, but only with what you like?"
"It's sickeningly careless of me, sweetheart," Geoffrey apologised. "Of course I ought to have brought a bottle down with me, but when I get near you I clean forget everything else. Darling, do forgive me, and just taste this mixture. Finch made it, and he's sure you'll like it."
"I do not know Finch, and it is not at all clear to me how it is that he can know what I like. I am quite unhappy, quite wounded that you can love me so little you wish to make me sick with gin."
"There isn't a drop of gin in it, Lola. I swear there isn't! Of course I wouldn't give you gin. Good God, if anything happened to you through my fault I should be fit to shoot myself."
"Well, I will taste your cocktail," Lola said, relenting, "Because I do not wish to make trouble, and I see that through the fault of your papa this house is not well-run. But when you have told him that I wish absinthe he will attend to it. Only you are to tell him with tact, my dear Geoffrey, for I do not desire him to feel uncomfortable."
Dinah gave a sudden gurgle, hastily choked, and began to pour out a delicately pink liquid from the shaker. Lola looked inquiringly at her, but she shook her head. "Nothing. I only coughed. What do you call this roseate mixture, Geoffrey?"
Inspired, Geoffrey said: "It's a brand-new cocktail, a super-cocktail, made for the most beautiful creature in the world, and I'm calling it La Lola."
Lola was so much pleased by this compliment that she held out her hand to Geoffrey, and said that it was a pretty idea, and he should tell her how the cocktail was made so that she herself (supposing that she liked it) could adopt it. After two cautious sips she said graciously that it was quite agreeable, and would be a very good cocktail indeed if a little absinthe were added.
Then the missing Concetta erupted into the room with many voluble ejaculations delivered in a foreign tongue. She was followed by a train of dress-boxes, and Lola at once became extremely animated, and ordained that everything should be unpacked at once, and her bath prepared, and a certain box of powder found immediately.
"I think we'd better leave her now," Geoffrey said reverently. "You'd like us to clear out, wouldn't you, darling?"
Yes, Lola would like them to go at once; it was terrible that her trunks had arrived so late; there was no time at all to make a suitable toilette for dinner.
Geoffrey signed to Dinah to go, and followed her, very softly closing the door behind them.
On the landing Dinah leaned against an oak chest, and rather thoughtfully regarded him. A lock of his long, fair hair hung over his brow, and his face was flushed with nervous excitement. He was a handsome, slightly effeminate youth with large eyes, and a mouth that quivered a little when he was at all agitated. He affected a style of dress which was considered by his set to be artistic, and was addicted to large-brimmed hats, polo sweaters, and pleated dress shirts. He had always been delicate, a subject in his boyhood to nerve-storms, which were the dread of all who came in contact with him. He was frightened of his father, and except amongst his chosen intimates he was not very popular with other men. His air of highly strung fragility, and a certain charm of manner, however, appealed to a great many women, and quite a number of sympathetic matrons felt a distinct desire to mother him.
Not being of these, Dinah felt no such desire, but she was sorry for him, and treated him with a mixture of forbearance and bracing common sense.
He turned to her now in his impetuous way, and stammered: "Isn't she wonderful? Isn't she lovely? Have you ever seen anything so enchanting as the way she looks at one?"
"Never," said Dinah accommodatingly.
"I knew you'd say so! I knew you'd only to set eyes on her! There are hundreds of men absolutely mad about her, and she's going to marry me! I tell you, Dinah, I can hardly believe it's true. Everything's changed for me; I feel like a different person since she said yes."
"I expect you do," agreed Dinah.
"Of course you know she's simply throwing herself away on me." Geoffrey said anxiously. "I mean, her career, and all that, because she's practically a genius at dancing — everybody who knows anything at all about it says so. It's the most ridiculous rot for Fay to talk about Father not liking it. Why, when he realises —"
"Look here, Geoffrey," interposed Dinah, "I expect it's all just as you say; in fact, I can see Lola's a stupendous person; but you ought to pull yourself together. It's no use, waffling about your father in that idiotic way, because you know perfectly well he's a stinker, and he won't realise anything at all."
Geoffrey's face fell. "But now he's seen her? I knew it would be no good just telling him, but when he sees her for himself, and talks to her — why, she'll twist him round her little finger! She can twist anybody!"
"She won't twist Arthur," said Dinah flatly. "She isn't in the least his type. Besides, he's got off with the Halliday wench."
"Who?" asked Geoffrey vacantly.
"The blonde woman. You saw her on the terrace."
"Oh, did I? I don't know. I was looking at Lola. She has a way of dropping her eyelids, Dinah —"
"Stop being maudlin!" commanded Dinah. "She's got a way of saying the wrong thing too, and that's the way Arthur will notice, let me tell you."
"But you don't understand!" said Geoffrey. "She's utterly natural. That's part of her fascination."
"All I can say is that it didn't seem to be fascinating Arthur — noticeably."
Geoffrey's underlip began to quiver. "If Father tries to stop it — if he's foul to Lola — if he's beast enough to — well, look out, that's all! He's been rotten to me ever since I was a kid, and if he thinks he's going to muck up my life now by refusing to consent to my marrying Lola — not that he can do it, because he can't — but if he does — well, I shall do something desperate, and he may as well know it!"
"Don't get so excited," said Dinah severely. "Do you think there's any hope of persuading Lola to do the shy violet act? I know it's a bit late in the day, but it might keep him fairly cool. I'm chiefly concerned for Fay. You know, it really is rather asinine of you to bring Lola down here, and it'll all react on Fay. Can't you have a talk with Lola? I did try myself, but I daresay you'd be able to do it better. Tell her what'll go down with Arthur and what won't."
"I couldn't possibly," said Geoffrey. "She'd be most frightfully hurt. She simply wouldn't understand. Of course you're only a girl, and probably you wouldn't see it, but Lola's the type of woman who drives men absolutely mad about her."
"Well, if she goes on as she's started, I should say she'd drive Arthur mad enough to be put into a looney-bin," said Dinah with asperity, and withdrew to her own room.