A Night of Gaiety (9 page)

He was looking very smart with a carnation in his button-hole and a large pearl tie-pin in his cravat. He also seemed large and overpowering, and the way he was looking at her made Davita feel shy.

Because she was nervous she said quickly:

“
I must
...
thank you. It was very kind of you to send me those ... beautiful flowers. At the same time, I want to ask you ... not to send me any ... more.” She thought he might ask her why, but instead he said:

“
Are you afraid Violet will be jealous? That is something I wish to talk to you about.”

A
s she spoke, the horses came to a standstill. Davita now realised he had been truthful when he had said they would only go a little way up the street, and she asked more calmly:

“
What do you want to talk to me about?”

“
The answer to that is quite simple,” Lord Mundesley said. “You, and of course myself.”

D
avita looked at him in surprise and he said:

“You must be aware, my lovely little Scot, that you captivated me from the moment I set eyes on you, and I have a proposition to make.”

“A ... p-proposition?” Davita stammered.

Although Lord Mundesley had not moved while he was speaking, she felt, as she had last night, that he was encroaching on her and instinctively she moved as far as she could away from him to the farther corner of the carriage.

Even so, he still seemed unpleasantly near.

“I understand from Violet,” Lord Mundesley went on, “that you have come to London in search of employment. Although I could quite easily arrange for George Edwardes to find you a place at the Gaiety, I do not think you are really suited for a life on the stage.” Davita gave a little sigh of relief, thinking her apprehension had been quite unnecessary and Lord
Mundesley was in fact trying to help her in a practical manner.

She turned her face to him eagerly.

“I am so glad you said that, because not only am I quite certain that I would be a failure if I went on the stage, but it is not the sort of life I would like, and Mama would have disapproved.”

“Your mother is dead,” Lord Mundesley said, “so whether she approves or disapproves of what you do is not likely to concern us.”

Davita was puzzled.

She did not understand why he should say such a thing.

“At the same time,” Lord Mundesley continued, “your mother would, I am sure, not wish you to endure a life of hardship or have none of the luxuries and comforts to which anybody as pretty as you is entitled.”

He paused, and as Davita did not speak he went on: “What I want to suggest to you, Davita, is that you let me look after you. You will find me a kind and generous man, and I think we could be very happy together.” Davita’s eyes opened so wide that they seemed to fill her whole face. Then she asked in a voice that was barely audible:

“What are you ... suggesting ... what are you ... s-saying?”

“I am saying, my dear, that I will give you a comfortable little house in Chelsea, all the beautiful gowns you want, and a great number of other things that will make you happy.”

For a moment Davita found it hard to breathe, for she was so shocked and horrified at what he had suggested.

Then as she opened her lips to speak, Lord Mundesley put out his arms and drew her against him. At his touch she started to struggle violently.

“No! No!” she cried. “How can you think of ... anything so wrong ... so wicked? You are a ... married man, and what you are ... suggesting is a ... sin against your wife ... and God.”

She was so vehement that now it was Lord Mundesley’s turn to be surprised.

He still had his arm round her, but there was an astonished expression on his face as she tried to push him away from her.

“Now listen to me, Davita ...” he began, but with a sound that was almost a scream Davita interrupted:

“I will not ... listen! Let me ... go! I do not ... want to hear any ... more!”

She twisted herself from him, bent forward to open the carriage-door, and sprang out into the road, so intent on escaping that she did not realise that Lord Mundesley was making no effort to stop her.

Then she was running down the pavement towards the door of her lodgings, and when she got there she found to her relief that the door was open as Billy was just taking in a parcel that had arrived from a tradesman.

Davita ran past Billy and pounded up the stairs as if all the devils of hell were at her heels.

When she reached her own room on the Second Floor, she rushed in, slammed the door behind her, locked it, and, edging her way round her trunks, threw herself down on the bed.

“How ... dare ... he? How ... dare he ... suggest such a ... thing!” she panted.

Her heart was beating suffocatingly, and as she ran away from Lord Mundesley her bonnet had fallen from her head and was suspended by the ribbons which had been tied under her chin.

She flung her bonnet on the floor and lay face-downwards, her face in the pillow.

So that was how men behaved in London! Now she understood not only what Lord Mundesley was suggesting to her, but what had happened to Rosie.

How could she have known, how could she have guessed, that Rosie had been the Marquis’s mistress and he had thrown her out “bag and baggage” not because they were engaged to be married but because she was a woman for whom he had no further use.

It was so shocking, so degrading, and Davita had never imagined she would come in contact with anything so evil.

She had vaguely known that there were women who in the words of the Bible “committed adultery” and to whom nobody respectable would speak.

There had been a girl in the village who had run away with a Piper who was married and could not marry her.

Davita had heard the servants talking about her, and when she asked her mother what had happened, she had explained gently and carefully that the girl had lost the love and respect of her parents and of everybody else.

“Why should she do such a thing, Mama?” Davita had asked.

“Because she was tempted,” her mother had replied.

“I do not understand,” Davita had protested, “why she should want to be with a man who cannot marry her.”

“These things happen, dearest,” her mother had said, “but I do not want you to think about it now. It is something which is best forgotten.”

But because the servants had not forgotten and had gone on talking about Jeannie, it had been impossible for Davita not to be curious.

“I always knew she would come to no good,” she could hear them saying to one another. “She’ll rue the day she trusted a man who’d throw her aside when he’s had all he wants of her.”

Davita wondered what he had wanted, but she knew if she asked questions nobody would explain.

She heard two years later that Jeannie had had a baby and, having been deserted by the Piper, had drowned herself and the child.

It was then that she had exclaimed to her mother:

“How could such a terrible thing happen? And why did Jeannie not come home?”

“If she had, they would not have let her in,” her mother had replied.

“So you mean that her father and mother would have let her starve?”

“It is something I would never be able to do myself,” her mother had admitted, “but I know Jeannie’s parents. They are respected members of the Kirk and very strait-laced. They would never forgive their daughter for bringing disgrace upon them.”

Davita tried to understand. At the same time, because Jeannie had been young and attractive, she felt it was a terrible thing that she should kill herself and her baby and that no-one should be sorry that she had done so.

Now she thought with a kind of terror that that might happen to her.

How could a gentleman like Lord Mundesley suggest that he should give her a house in Chelsea, and that while he had a wife somewhere else, she should live with him and be his mistress?

It was a degradation she had never imagined for one moment would ever be suggested to her, and she thought how shocked her father and mother would be if they knew.

She was sure that her father, if he were alive, would be prepared to knock Lord Mundesley down because he had insulted her.

Then suddenly she stiffened as she thought of the way Lord Mundesley had spoken to Violet and how he had kissed her good-night.

Could it be possible that Violet was already his mistress?

Then she told herself with a feeling of relief that the answer to that idea was “no.”

If she was, Violet would not be living here but in Chelsea, and although he might have suggested it to her, Violet had obviously refused.

The feeling of relief was like a warm wave sweeping through Davita and clearing away the feeling of shock.

Violet was a good girl. Violet would not, Davita was sure, contemplate anything so wicked.

Then why had Lord Mundesley suggested such a thing to her after knowing her for such a short time?

She could not understand, except perhaps that Violet, intending to be kind, had painted such a bleak picture of her future with no money and no job that he had made the suggestion because in his own way he wanted to be kind.

Davita could still feel his arms pulling her against him, and she had the feeling that if she had not struggled, he might have kissed her.

“I hate him!” she said aloud, and knew there was something unpleasant about him that was difficult to put into words.

‘I shall never see him again!’ she thought.

Then she knew that she would have to do so if she went to the party tonight.

“I will stay here. I will stay at home,” she decided firmly, and got up from the bed to pick up her bonnet and put it tidily away.

Then as she did so she realised that if she told Violet she was not going to the party with her as they had planned, she would have to give a very good explanation as to why she had changed her mind.

What could she say that would not upset Violet?

It was obvious, although she had not said so, that Violet thought Lord Mundesley was her admirer and in a way her property.

Looking back, Davita could remember dozens of little words and gestures that proclaimed all too clearly that Lord Mundesley had devoted himself to Violet.

Now, disloyal and unfaithful—although that was hardly the right description considering that he was married—he was ready to transfer his affections to her.

‘I cannot tell Violet that!’ Davita thought in a panic. ‘It would upset her, and she has been so kind to me.’

She looked round the tiny room, feeling as if the walls whirled round her as she tried to think what she could say and what she could do.

Then she knew, almost as if somebody was saying it aloud, that it would be extremely unkind if she let Violet know what had happened.

‘Sooner or later she will find out for herself what he is like,’ Davita thought, ‘but I must not be the person to tell her so.’

She sat down on her bed and tried to think clearly and she sent up a prayer to her mother for help.

“I am in a mess, Mama,” she said. “Tell me what I should do. Tell me how I can avoid Lord Mundesley without hurting Violet, who has been kind ... very, very kind.”

She almost expected to hear her mother answer, and gradually a plan came to her mind.

She would have to go to the party tonight rather than make Violet suspicious, and she was quite sure that Lord Mundesley would not tell Violet what he had suggested.

Tomorrow, first thing, she would go to a Domestic Bureau and take a job, any job that she was offered.

Davita gave a little sigh.

“I am sure that is the right thing to do,” she told herself.

It was reassuring to think that if her first job was an unpleasant one, she had enough money to support herself while she waited for another.

The idea that she would be alone and frightened came insidiously into her mind, but she swept it aside.

The only thing that mattered now was to get away from Lord Mundesley.

“Once I am gone, he will think only of Violet again, and if I do not give her my address there will be no chance of his trying to get in touch with me,” Davita decided.

To her surprise, she found herself wishing she could ask the Marquis to advise her. She had thought of him during the night and how handsome he had looked despite his cynical and contemptuous air.

He had told her to go back to Scotland, and he had been right: that was what she ought to do.

Perhaps he had guessed that Lord Mundesley or some other man like him would make such horrible suggestions to her simply because she was with the Gaiety Girls.

“He was right, absolutely right. I should not be here,” Davita said to herself.

Because she was upset and still shocked by what had happened, when a little later she went to do up Violet’s gown before they went to the Theatre, the latter exclaimed:

“You look very pale, Davita! It must be your gown, but I should have thought white would have suited you with your red hair.”

“I think I am just a little tired,” Davita replied. “Is this gown all right?”