Death in a White Tie (6 page)

The ball given by Lady Carrados for her daughter Bridget O’Brien was an unqualified success. That is to say that from half-past ten when Sir Herbert and Lady Carrados took up their stand at the head of the double staircase and shook hands with the first guests until half-past three the next morning when the band, white about the gills and faintly glistening, played the National Anthem, there was not a moment when it was not difficult for a young man to find the débutantes with whom he wished to dance and easy for him to avoid those by whom he was not attracted. There was no ominous aftermath when the guests began to slide away to other parties, to slip through the doors with the uncontrollable heartlessness of the unamused. The elaborate structure, built to pattern by Lady Carrados, Miss Harris and Dimitri, did not slide away like a sand-castle before a wave of unpopularity, but held up bravely till the end. It was, therefore, an unqualified success.

In the matter of champagne Lady Carrados and Miss Harris had triumphed. It flowed not only in the supper-room but also at the buffet. In spite of the undoubted fact that débutantes did not drink, Dimitri’s men opened two hundred bottles of Heidsieck ’28 that night, and Sir Herbert afterwards took a sort of well-bred pride in the rows of empty bottles he happened to see in a glimpse behind the scenes.

Outside the house it was unseasonably chilly. The mist made by the breathing of the watchers mingled with drifts of light fog. As the guests walked up the strip of red carpet from their cars to the great door they passed between two wavering masses of dim faces. And while the warmth and festive smell of flowers and expensive scents reached the noses of the watchers, through the great doors was driven the smell of mist so that footmen in the hall told each other from time to time that for June it was an uncommonly thickish night outside.

By midnight everybody knew the ball was a success and was able when an opportunity presented itself to say so to Lady Carrados. Leaving her post at the stairhead she came into the ballroom looking very beautiful and made her way towards the far end where most of the chaperones were assembled. On her way she passed her daughter dancing with Donald Potter. Bridget smiled brilliantly at her mother, and raised her left hand in gay salute. Her right hand was crushed against Donald’s chest and round the misty white nonsense of her dress was his black arm and his hard masculine hand was pressed against her ribs. “She’s in love with him,” thought Lady Carrados. And up through the maze of troubled thoughts that kept her company came the remembrance of her conversation with Donald’s uncle. She wondered suddenly if women ever fainted from worry alone and as she smiled and bowed her way along the ballroom she saw herself suddenly crumpling down among the dancers. She would lie there while the band played on and presently she would open her eyes and see people’s legs and then someone would help her to her feet and she would beg them to get her away quickly before anything was noticed. Her fingers tightened on her bag. Five hundred pounds! She had told the man at the bank that she wanted to pay some of the expenses of the ball in cash. That had been a mistake. She should have sent Miss Harris with the cheque and made no explanation to anybody. It was twelve o’clock. She would do it on her way to supper. There was that plain Halcut-Hackett protégée without a partner again. Lady Carrados looked round desperately and to her relief saw her husband making his way towards the girl. She felt a sudden wave of affection for her husband. Should she go to him tonight and tell him everything? And just sit back and take the blow? She must be very ill indeed to dream of such a thing. Here she was in the chaperones’ corner and there, thank God, was Lady Alleyn with an empty chair beside her.

“Evelyn!” cried Lady Alleyn. “Come and sit down, my dear, in all your triumph. My granddaughter has just told me this is the very pinnacle of all balls. Everybody is saying so.”

“I’m so thankful. It’s such a toss-up nowadays. One never knows.”

“Of course one doesn’t. Last Tuesday at the Gainscotts’ by one o’clock there were only the three Gainscott girls, a few desperate couples who hadn’t the heart to escape, and my Sarah and her partner whom I had kept there by sheer terrorism. Of course, they didn’t have Dimitri, and I must say I think he
is
a perfect magician. Dear me,” said Lady Alleyn, “I
am
enjoying myself.”

“I’m so glad.”

“I hope you are enjoying yourself, too, Evelyn. They say the secret of being a good hostess is to enjoy yourself at your own parties. I have never believed it. Mine always were a nightmare to me and I refuse to admit they were failures. But they are so exhausting. I suppose you wouldn’t come down to Danes Court with me and turn yourself into an amiable cow for the week-end?”

“Oh,” said Lady Carrados, “I wish I could.”

“Do.”

“That’s what Sir Daniel Davidson said I should do — lead the life of a placid cow for a bit.”

“It’s settled, then.”

“But—”

“Nonsense. There is Davidson, isn’t it? That dark flamboyant-looking man talking to Lucy Lorrimer. On my left.”

“Yes.”

“Is he clever? Everyone seems to go to him. I might show him my leg one of these days. If you don’t promise to come, Evelyn, I shall call him over here and make a scene. Here comes Bunchy Gospell,” continued Lady Alleyn with a quick glance at her hostess’s trembling fingers, “and I feel sure he’s going to ask you to sup with him. Why, if that isn’t Agatha Troy with him!”

“The painter?” said Lady Carrados faintly. “Yes. Bridgie knows her. She’s going to paint Bridgie.”

“She did a sketch portrait of my son Roderick. It’s amazingly good.”

Lord Robert, looking, with so large an expanse of white under his chin, rather like Mr Pickwick, came beaming towards them with Troy at his side. Lady Alleyn held out her hand and drew Troy down to a stool beside her. She looked at the short dark hair, the long neck and the spare grace that was Troy’s and wished, not for the first time, that it was her daughter-in-law that sat at her feet. Troy was the very wife she would have chosen for her son, and, so she believed, the wife that he would have chosen for himself. She rubbed her nose vexedly. “If it hadn’t been for that wretched case!” she thought. And she said:

“I’m so pleased to see you, my dear. I hear the exhibition is the greatest success.”

Troy gave her a sideways smile.

“I wonder,” continued Lady Alleyn, “which of us is the most surprised at seeing the other. I have bounced out of retirement to launch my granddaughter.”

“I was brought by Bunchy Gospell,” said Troy. “I’m so seldom smart and gay that I’m rather enjoying it.”

“Roderick had actually consented to come but he’s got a tricky case on his hands and has to go away again tomorrow at the crack of dawn.”

“Oh,” said Troy.

Lord Robert began to talk excitedly to Lady Carrados.

“Gorgeous!” he cried, pitching his voice very high in order to top the band which had suddenly begun to make a terrific din. “Gorgeous, Evelyn! Haven’t enjoyed anything — ages — superb!” He bent his knees and placed his face rather close to Lady Carrados’s. “Supper!” he squeaked. “Do say you will! In half an hour or so. Will you?”

She smiled and nodded. He sat down between Lady Carrados and Lady Alleyn and gave them each a little pat. His hand alighted on Lady Carrados’s bag. She moved it quickly. He was beaming out into the ballroom and seemed lost in a mild ecstasy.

“Champagne!” he said. “Can’t beat it! I’m not inebriated, my dears, but I am, I proudly confess, a little exalted. What I believe is nowadays called nicely thank you. How-de-do? Gorgeous, ain’t it?”

General and Mrs Halcut-Hackett bowed. Their smiling lips moved in a soundless assent. They sat down between Lady Alleyn and Sir Daniel Davidson and his partner, Lady Lorrimer.

Lucy, Dowager Marchioness of Lorrimer, was a woman of eighty. She dressed almost entirely in veils and untidy jewellery. She was enormously rich and not a little eccentric. Sir Daniel attended to her lumbago. She was now talking to him earnestly and confusedly and he listened with an air of enraptured attention. Lord Robert turned with a small bounce and made two bobs in their direction.

“There’s Davidson,” he said delightedly, “and Lucy Lorrimer. How are you, Lucy?”

“What?” shouted Lucy Lorrimer.

“How are yer?”

“Busy. I thought you were in Australia.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why?”

“Don’t interrupt,” shouted Lucy Lorrimer. “I’m talking.”

“Never been there,” said Lord Robert; “the woman’s mad.”

The Halcut-Hacketts smiled uncomfortably. Lucy Lorrimer leant across Davidson and bawled: “Don’t forget tomorrow night!”

“Who? Me?” asked Lord Robert. “Of course not.”

“Eight-thirty sharp.”

“I know. Though how you could think I was in Australia—”

“I didn’t see it was you,” screamed Lucy Lorrimer. “Don’t forget now.” The band stopped as abruptly as it had begun and her voice rang out piercingly. “It wouldn’t be the first night you had disappointed me.”

She leant back chuckling and fanning herself. Lord Robert took the rest of the party in with a comical glance.

“Honestly, Lucy!” said Lady Alleyn.

“He’s the most absent-minded creature in the world,” added Lucy Lorrimer.

“Now to that,” said Lord Robert, “I do take exception. I am above all things a creature of habit, upon my honour. I could tell you, if it wasn’t a very boring sort of story, exactly to the minute what I shall do with myself tomorrow evening and how I shall ensure my punctual arrival at Lucy Lorrimer’s party.”

“Suddenly remember it at a quarter to nine and take a cab,” said Lucy Lorrimer.

“Not a bit of it.”

Mrs Halcut-Hackett suddenly joined in the conversation.

“I can vouch for Lord Robert’s punctuality,” she said loudly. “He always keeps his appointments.” She laughed a little too shrilly and for some unaccountable reason created an uncomfortable atmosphere. Lady Alleyn glanced sharply at her. Lucy Lorrimer stopped short in the middle of a hopelessly involved sentence; Davidson put up his glass and stared. General Halcut-Hackett said, “What!” loudly and uneasily. Lord Robert examined his fat little hands with an air of complacent astonishment. The inexplicable tension was relieved by the arrival of Sir Herbert Carrados with the plain protégée of the Halcut-Hacketts. She held her long chiffon handkerchief to her face and she looked a little desperately at her chaperone. Carrados who had her by the elbow was the very picture of British chivalry.

“A casualty!” he said archly. “Mrs Halcut-Hackett, I’m afraid you are going to be very angry with me!”

“Why, Sir Herbert!” said Mrs Halcut-Hackett; “that’s surely an impossibility.”

The General said “What!”

“This young lady,” continued Carrados, squeezing her elbow, “no sooner began to dance with me than she developed toothache. Frightfully bad luck — for both of us.”

Mrs Halcut-Hackett eyed her charge with something very like angry despair.

“What’s the matter,” she said, “darling?”

“I’m afraid I’d better go home.”

Lady Carrados took her hand.

“That
is
bad luck,” she said. “Shall we see if we can find something to—”

“No, no, please,” said the child. “I think really, I’d better go home. I–I’m sure I’d better. Really.”

The General suddenly became human. He stood up, took the girl by the shoulders, and addressed Lady Carrados.

“Better at home,” he said. “What? Brandy and oil of cloves. Damn bad show. Will you excuse us?” He addressed his wife. “I’ll take her home. You stay on. Come back for you.” He addressed his charge: “Come on, child. Get your wrap.”

“You need not come back for me, dear,” said Mrs Halcut-Hackett. “I shall be quite all right. Stay with Rose.”

“If I may,” squeaked Lord Robert, “I’ll give myself the pleasure of driving your wife home, Halcut-Hackett.”

“No, no,” began Mrs Halcut-Hackett, “I — please—”

“Well,” said the General. “Suit splendidly. What? Say good night. What?” They bowed and shook hands. Sir Herbert walked away with both of them. Mrs Halcut-Hackett embarked on a long polite explanation and apology to Lady Carrados.

“Poor child!” whispered Lady Alleyn.

“Poor child, indeed,” murmured Troy.

Mrs Halcut-Hackett had made no further reply to Lord Robert’s offer. Now, as he turned to her, she hurriedly addressed herself to Davidson.

“I must take the poor lamb to a dentist,” she said. “Too awful if her face should swell half-way through the season. Her mother is my dearest friend but she’d never forgive me. A major tragedy.”

“Quite,” said Sir Daniel rather dryly.

“Well,” said Lucy Lorrimer beginning to collect her scarves, “I shall expect you at eight twenty-seven. It’s only me and my brother, you know. The one that got into difficulties. I want some supper. Where is Mrs Halcut-Hackett? I suppose I must congratulate her on her ball, though I must say I always think it’s the greatest mistake—”

Sir Daniel Davidson hurriedly shouted her down.

“Let me take you down and give you some supper,” he suggested loudly with an agonized glance at Mrs Halcut-Hackett and Lady Carrados. He carried Lucy Lorrimer away.

“Poor Lucy!” said Lady Alleyn. “She never has the remotest idea where she is. I wish, Evelyn, that he hadn’t stopped her. What fault do you suppose she was about to find in your hospitality?”

“Let’s follow them, Evelyn,” said Lord Robert, “and no doubt we shall find out. Troy, m’dear, there’s a young man making for you. May we dance again?”

“Yes, of course, Bunchy dear,” said Troy, and went off with her partner.

Lady Carrados said she would meet Lord Robert in the supper-room in ten minutes. She left them, threading her way down the ballroom, her fingers clutching her bag. At the far end she overtook Sir Daniel and Lucy Lorrimer.

Lady Alleyn, looking anxiously after her, saw her sway a little. Davidson stepped up to her quickly and took her arm, steadying her. Lady Alleyn saw him speak to her with a quick look of concern. She saw Evelyn Carrados shake her head, smiling at him. He spoke again with emphasis and then Lucy Lorrimer shouted at him and he shrugged his shoulders and moved away. After a moment Lady Carrados, too, left the ballroom.