England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Manners and customs -- Fiction
Of course, it’s all nonsense. She’s not the least suited to him; she’d
make him miserable, and then be miserable herself. But it seems a little
perverse, doesn’t it? In fact, twice at least between the courses at
dinner I caught myself being sorry for her. It is, when you think of it,
so remarkably perverse.
A MATTER OF DUTY
Lady Mickleham is back from her honeymoon. I mean young Lady
Mickleham--Dolly Foster (well, of course I do. Fancy the Dowager on a
honeymoon!) She signified the fact to me by ordering me to call on her
at teatime; she had, she said, something which she wished to consult me
about confidentially. I went.
“I didn’t know you were back,” I observed.
“Oh, we’ve been back a fortnight, but we went down to The Towers. They
were all there, Mr. Carter.”
“All who?”
“All Archie’s people. The dowager said we must get really to know one
another as soon as possible. I’m not sure I like really knowing people.
It means that they say whatever they like to you, and don’t get up out
of your favorite chair when you come in.”
“I agree,” said I, “that a soupcon of unfamiliarity is not amiss.”
“Of course it’s nice to be one of the family,” she continued.
“The cat is that,” said I. “I would not give a fig for it.”
“And the Dowager taught me the ways of the house.”
“Ah, she taught me the way out of it.”
“And showed me how to be most disagreeable to the servants.”
“It is the first lesson of a housekeeper.”
“And told me what Archie particularly liked, and how bad it was for him,
poor boy.”
“What should we do without our mothers? I do not, however, see how I can
help in all this, Lady Mickleham.”
“How funny that sounds!”
“Aren’t you accustomed to your dignity yet?”
“I meant from you, Mr. Carter.”
I smiled. That is Dolly’s way. As Miss Phaeton says, she means no harm,
and it is admirably conducive to the pleasure of a tete-a-tete.
“It wasn’t that I wanted to ask you about,” she continued, after she had
indulged in a pensive sigh (with a dutifully bright smile and a glance
at Archie’s photograph to follow. Her behavior always reminds me of
a varied and well assorted menu). “It was about something much more
difficult. You won’t tell Archie, will you?”
“This becomes interesting,” I remarked, putting my hat down.
“You know, Mr. Carter, that before I was married--oh, how long ago it
seems!”
“Not at all.”
“Don’t interrupt. That before I was married I had several--that is to
say, several--well, several--”
“Start quite afresh,” I suggested encouragingly.
“Well, then, several men were silly enough to think themselves--you
know.”
“No one better,” I assented cheerfully.
“Oh, if you won’t be sensible!--Well, you see, many of them are Archie’s
friends as well as mine; and, of course, they’ve been to call.”
“It is but good manners,” said I.
“One of them waited to be sent for, though.”
“Leave that fellow out,” said I.
“What I want to ask you is this--and I believe you’re not silly, really,
you know, except when you choose to be.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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