Grey Mask

CHAPTER XXXII

The sun came out later on; the October air glowed in an enchanting mixture of warmth and freshness. It was strange to see the trees hung with yellow instead of green.

Margaret had a busy morning. Women buy new hats when the sun shines. A stout lady with red hair bought six hats one after the other. She did not try them on-that was Margaret’s business; she had to present Mrs. Collinson Jones with a pleasing picture of the hat she meant to buy. If it looked well on Margaret, she bought it with a magnificent disregard of her own contours and complexion. All the hats were very expensive.

When Mrs. Collinson Jones had departed, Margaret had a helpless bride and her still more helpless mother on her hands. Neither Mrs. Kennett nor Miss Rosabel Kennett had the very slightest idea what they wanted. They were both pretty, fair, fluffy, and ineffective. Rosabel tried on eighteen hats, and Mrs. Kennett always murmured “Sweet!” But in the end she and her daughter departed without having made a purchase.

The Kennetts were succeeded by Miss Canterbury, who wanted something which neither Sauterelle nor any other modern shop was likely to have.

“I don’t care about these hats that hide the ears-they swallow you up so. I remember a most charming hat I had before the war, trimmed with shaded tulle and ostrich feathers. I wore it to the Deanery garden-party, and it was much admired.”

Margaret tried to picture the tiny bent creature in a cart-wheel hat weighed down with trimming. She offered a neat small velvet shape.

“Would madam care to try this?”

“Feathers,” said Miss Canterbury peevishly.

“If madam liked, she could have a feather mount at the side.”

Miss Canterbury waved the shape away.

“Too small-too trivial. No, that one’s too large for me. No, I don’t care for velvet. The hat I was telling you about was made of the most charming crinoline straw, and the tulle was put on in big bows under the ostrich feathers-a most charming effect.”

“Perhaps we could make you a hat, madam?”

“No-I shouldn’t care for that. It’s really very disappointing not to be able to get an ordinary black hat with feathers in Sloane Street.”

After Miss Canterbury, a charming round-about little lady with plump rosy cheeks and crisp grey hair.

“Can you match this in a velour?”

Margaret took the scrap of crimson velvet ribbon. “I’m not sure, madam. I’ll show you what we have.”

As she crossed the room, one of the other girls spoke to her.

“Miss Langton, there are some new velours just come in.”

She came back to the little plump lady, and found herself scrutinised. The red hat was tried on; but the little lady’s attention seemed to wander.

“Very nice-yes, very nice indeed. Yes, I’ll take it. Did I hear someone call you Miss Langton just now?”

Margaret smiled and said, “Yes?”

The little lady hesitated and dropped her voice.

“Is your name Margaret? No, it can’t be. But the name- and I thought I saw a likeness-I used to know-”

“My name is Margaret Langton.”

“Not Esther Langton’s daughter! Oh, my dear, I’m so pleased to meet you. Your mother was a very great friend about a hundred years ago when we were all young and foolish-oh yes, a very great friend. Only you won’t ever have heard of me, I expect. My name is Mrs. Ravenna, but I used to be Lesbia Boyne.”

Margaret was so much startled that for a moment she wasn’t in Sloane Street at all. The hats, the showroom, weren’t there any more. She was standing at the door of another room, a very long-ago room indeed. Her mother was there, and a little lady in a lilac dress. Her mother said, “Lesbia-the child!”

She shut her eyes for a moment, and opened them to see Mrs. Ravenna looking at her with an air of concern; she held her head a little to one side, and had the air of a plump, kind bird.

“I startled you-I’m afraid I startled you.”

“A little,” said Margaret-“just a little-because I have heard of you-my mother spoke of you-when I was a child.”

“Not since then? Now that’s too bad! But we must make up for lost time. I’d like to have you come and lunch with me, right away if you can. Can you manage it? You’re not engaged?”

Margaret shook her head.

“Then I’ll go and speak to Madam. Just you wait.”

She went off smiling, and in a minute was back again.

“I’ve made love to her very successfully. I told her it was a very romantic meeting, and she says you may take an extra half hour. So we can have a real, good talk. We’ll come along to my hotel. I’m at The Luxe.”

Mrs. Ravenna was very comfortably installed at The Luxe, with a private sitting-room.

“My dear, you look starving,” she said to Margaret. “Now tell me, are you working too hard? Is that it? Serving tiresome women with hats they don’t really want? I’m one of them, and my conscience pinches me. You’ve no business to look so pale. I remember a little girl with a very nice bright colour.”

“I was late, and I hadn’t really time for my breakfast,” said Margaret.

Mrs. Ravenna was most dreadfully shocked.

“You lean right back and close your eyes, and don’t you say a single word till you’ve had some soup. You look positively frozen.”

The soup was deliciously hot. When Margaret had drunk it and was eating fish which tasted like some pleasantly new variety, Mrs. Ravenna removed the embargo on conversation.

“That’s better! I couldn’t talk to someone that I was expecting to faint all the time.”

Margaret laughed.

“I never faint.”

“I should faint in a minute if I didn’t have my breakfast. It would be very good for my figure, but I couldn’t do it-I don’t bother about it any more. If I bothered, I shouldn’t be so plump. But I can’t do with being bothered-it’s so worrying. And I’d rather be plump than have my face all over lines. Why, I know women that spend every morning in a beauty parlour, and they’ve got twice as many lines as I have. Of course it’s lovely if you can have it both ways-no lines and a willowy figure. But that’s only for the very, very few. Now your mother-”

Margaret laid down her fork.

“Yes, do tell me about my mother.”

“Oh, she was looking very well. Of course I only saw her for a moment.”

“Mrs. Ravenna!”

“Yes?” The little lady put her head on one side.

“Please-what did you say?”

“I said that Esther was looking very well-and so she was. My dear, what’s the matter?”

“You haven’t heard-” Margaret had to force her voice.

Mrs. Ravenna was plainly startled.

“What! You don’t mean! Oh, my dear girl! When?”

“Six months ago.”

Mrs. Ravenna sat up straight.

“Margaret Langton, you’re not telling me your mother died six months ago?”

Margaret said, “Yes.”

“Your mother-Esther Langton-Esther Pelham?”

“Yes.”

“But I saw her.”

“Where did you see her?”

“It was only for a minute, but I made sure. My dear, you don’t know how you’ve shocked me. I did see her.”

Margaret held the arms of her chair.

“Mrs. Ravenna-won’t you tell me-what you mean?”

“I thought I saw her-and you tell me-six months ago? Impossible! Oh, I can’t believe it! She looked so well.”

Margaret shut her eyes for a moment. The room was turning round. Mrs. Ravenna’s voice came from a long way off.

“My dear, how cruel of me! But I didn’t know. I certainly thought I saw her.”

She opened her eyes.

“My mother died six months ago in Hungary. They were travelling-for her healths-and she died.” Margaret’s voice was slow and low.

Mrs. Ravenna gave a little sharp cry.

“Six months ago? But I saw her! My dear, I saw her, only a fortnight ago in Vienna.”

“I-Mrs. Ravenna!”

“My dear, I thought I saw her.”

“Did you speak to her?”

“I hadn’t a chance. I was ever so vexed. You can’t think how vexed I was. My train was just starting. I was leaning out of the window waving good-bye to the friend I’d been staying with, and I saw Esther in the crowd.”

Her grief closed down on Margaret’s heart.

“It was a mistake.”

“I suppose it must have been. But, my dear-such a resemblance. She was standing looking up with the light shining on her. I thought how little she had changed. I waved to her, and I called out, and I thought she recognized me.”

Margaret made a little sound of protest.

“It was a mistake.”

“I thought she recognized me. You know how a person looks when they know you-she looked like that. And then I was ever so disappointed because she didn’t wave to me or anything-she just turned and walked away. I was ever so disappointed.”

“It was somebody else,” said Margaret, with sad finality.