‘My dear Miss Kent! And Mr Lomax too! I pray you will not allow any other of my guests to know that I am so very anxious about the luncheon! You will not tell them, will you?’ She sat down between them on the bench and prattled on about it being her first, her very first, party since she was married and how very,
It was all said very prettily and somehow managed to convey a flattering conviction that they might both be counted upon as close confederates and allies. But it failed to convince. There was no believing that any lady could be so very worried about a cold collation.
However, a little quiet reflection assured Dido that the intrusion had come at the right moment. For she had undoubtedly been enjoying Mr Lomax’s anxiety for her safety rather too much.
Whether or not Her Ladyship had worried excessively over it, the luncheon was excellent, and plentiful enough to satisfy even the appetites of ladies and gentlemen who had toiled a full hour in the strawberry beds.
However there was among the guests an unease which was not surprising, if one knew the reasons that many of them had to feel awkward with one another, but which poor Lady Carrisbrook blamed herself for. She tried continually to introduce topics which might be of general interest and Flora did her best to assist. But the company seemed dull and heavy and too inclined to talk of whatever was uppermost in their own minds without reference to the interest or entertainment of their fellows.
Mr Morgan told interminable tales of his own cleverness; Mr Hewit remained silent and thoughtful; Miss Prentice talked nervously of titles; and Mrs Midgely triumphantly related to the company all the details of the delightful situation which she had secured for Miss Bevan as governess to the large family of a Mr Grimbould – a woollen manufacturer in Yorkshire.
This last Dido was very interested to hear about, since it explained to her the evidence of tears upon poor Mary’s face. But no one else seemed to share her interest. Sir Joshua sighed deeply, Flora smothered a dainty yawn and Mr Lansdale was so disgusted by such tedious chatter that he settled into a grave silence and did not say another word throughout the whole time of their remaining in the dining room.
It was not a comfortable meal and, once it was over, a languor descended upon the party. The heat beyond the solid old walls of the house was excessive and the walk to the stream and hay meadows, which had been proposed in the morning, now seemed to be an exertion beyond the spirits of them all.
The drawing room was a pleasant place to linger. The leaded casement windows – open to catch what breeze there might be – and the low black beams gave at least a sense of coolness and a great mass of flowers that filled the wide hearth scented the air with roses and lilac.
There was a little chat, a little turning over of books – chiefly
Lady Carrisbrook began to look anxious – as if the enjoyment of her guests weighed heavily upon her mind. She again proposed walking, and then, when the company made no favourable response, she became very active in promoting their entertainment. Rather too active perhaps, for she began eagerly proposing games and conundrums – employments better suited to a winter evening than a summer luncheon party. She produced cards and counters and even a box of yellowing alphabets from Sir Joshua’s long-abandoned nursery.
There was, Dido noticed, a moment of silent surprise from the guests at the inelegance of the proposal. Mrs Midgely raised a thick eyebrow. ‘Well I never,’ she said in a powerful whisper, ‘what a strange way of passing the time!’
Sir Joshua looked extremely displeased. There was an expression of confusion upon Maria Carrisbrook’s pretty face: an awareness of having blundered; anxiety to put right the mistake; and uncertainty as to how this was to be achieved. She looked fearfully towards her husband.
And then those of the party with good manners and good nature prevailed.
Mr Hewit stirred himself from his thoughts and pronounced a conundrum in his strong pulpit voice:
It was not the most original of riddles and several voices had chimed the answer of ‘woman’ almost before he had finished the last line. But he succeeded in what Dido did not doubt was his chief aim of covering over her ladyship’s embarrassment.
Others quickly followed his example. Mr Lomax produced another (fresher) conundrum and Henry Lansdale scattered the nursery letters across a table and began to make anagrams to puzzle his companions.
Meanwhile Flora’s foot was pressing Dido’s as she nodded in the direction of Mr Hewit. And there was certainly no denying that his own gallant conundrum had served to fix the gentleman’s attention upon Miss Prentice.
In fact, the games answered rather well for people who were too hot to walk and too ill-assorted to have much to say to one another. Soon the drawing room seemed more at ease, more animated. Before very long even Sir Joshua was smiling and teasing his brain for puzzles and enigmas.
Dido watched with great interest the expression of relief upon her ladyship’s face – noticed how she was becoming easy…
At the table beside her, Mr Lansdale was busy with his word games: mixing letters together and asking his companions to form them into words. ‘Now this,’ he said with a grave look, ‘this is a great puzzle. I wonder if any of you can answer this for me?’
He pushed a jumbled collection of letters into the centre of the table and the others of his party bent over them. He was, perhaps, unfortunate in his companions, for it seemed that most of the sharper minds were busy with riddles at the other end of the room. Miss Neville and Miss Prentice applied themselves eagerly to the task of solving his puzzle, but could make nothing of it. It was Miss Bevan, who was seated opposite him, who found an answer. She studied the letters a little while, frowned at them as if, for some reason, they troubled her; hesitated a while, then leant forward:
‘Pardon me, Miss Neville, Miss Prentice, may I try?’
‘By all means my dear – it is much too hard for me,’ said Miss Prentice cheerfully, ‘I never am very clever at these sorts of things. It is so very… Ah! You have found it out!’
While she had been talking Mary Bevan had rearranged the eight letters into a very neat little line.
Mary kept her finger for a moment on the word and turned her fine dark eyes upon the gentleman’s face. ‘That I think is what you meant, is it not, Mr Lansdale?’
He smiled and gave a small bow. ‘You are too clever for me, Miss Bevan,’ he said gallantly.
‘Then perhaps,’ she said, ‘you will allow me to answer you with a puzzle of my own.’ She cleared the word away with a sweep of her hand, made another selection of letters and slid them into the centre of the table.
They all, including Dido – who was beginning to be intrigued by the game – leant forward to study them. She and Mr Lansdale seemed to discover the answer at the same moment, for just as she saw the word hidden in the letters, he reached forward his hand.
Dido smiled. This was indeed a very interesting game indeed – a much deeper game than it appeared to be.
Henry Lansdale’s hand, instead of instantly rearranging the letters, hovered for several moments above them as he studied them thoughtfully. Then he smiled and formed the letters into a word, tapping them into a neat line in an exact imitation of Miss Bevan’s actions.
‘That is the word you meant, is it not, Miss Bevan?’
Miss Bevan raised her brows and began to speak but unfortunately her words were lost in a much louder appeal from the other party.
