‘Yes, dear, and so I’m really off—! And there were so many things I had wanted to say to you. But somehow I’ve not found time.’
‘Stay another week,’ the Countess begged.
‘Call me Ola.’
‘Ola.’
‘Your father’s a regular rake, darling.’
‘What are you looking for?’
Miss Dawkins gazed with lethargy about the room.
Above the mantelpiece were engravings of Salammbô in Matho’s tent and Monna Vanna in Prinzivalle’s, known collectively as The Fair Trespassers, and published by the Fine Art Society ‘as the Act directs’.
‘The Isol,’ she said.
‘I love your box, Ola.’
‘It’s not distinguished.’
‘The labels it has on it!’
‘Driving to and from a place in carnival time the students take it away.’
‘I envy you your independence.’
‘I’d rather roost.’
‘Domesticity tires one so. Every time I enter the nursery now it’s a strain. To-day was the climax. I’ve had many years’ experience, Mrs Occles said to me, as a nurse, and I’ll have no meddling. Very well, I said to her, you can go! Oh, good gracious! Then at the door, dear, I turned back and I added, Am I the child’s mother or are you? That, she said, is no affair of mine! But as a rule I’m accustomed to see the father! ! What do you mean by the father? I said. But she wouldn’t say.’
Miss Dawkins passed her parasol beneath the bed.
‘My button boots—!’
‘A child has so many little wants, nurse, I said … It should have proper attention … I know what a child wants, she said (so rudely), and when it wants it … And there was Bianca looking at her with her little eyes …’
‘Still, I wish the Count would come!’
‘I hope he’s not false to me,’ the Countess quavered.
‘Foreigners usually are, dear. They deceive their wives …’
‘If I thought he was unworthy …?’
‘You’re sure, of course, it’s binding?’
‘Binding?’
‘No loopholes?’
The Countess tittered.
‘None,’ she said.
‘Knowing the world as I know it,’ Miss Dawkins sighed. ‘Ah, well …’
‘There … the carriage is at the door.’
‘I’m ready.’
‘Have you a magazine or anything for the train?’
‘I’ve a novel only – Three Lilies and a Moustache.’
‘I like a love story,’ the Countess confessed, ‘so long as it isn’t drivel.’
‘Here is Daisy to say good-bye.’
‘Where’s Niece?’
‘In France!’ the Countess crooned.
‘Isn’t the child here?’
‘Come and kiss me,’ Miss Dawkins invited.
‘I’ve such news!’
‘What is it?’
‘The Chase is let at last.’
‘Goodness!’
‘Madame La Chose is in the library now with a professional witness.’
‘Well?’
‘And they’ve taken the house. I was listening … Madame La Chose said she was prepared to put her hand to an agreement for a ninety-nine years’ lease without the farm. And it’s to be pulled down immediately … Oh, the rats!’
‘Who’s the witness?’
‘General Lover.’
‘My dear father once struck me for listening at a door,’ Miss Dawkins observed.
‘And as a reference she gives La Belle Zula. She says her diamonds alone are worth the half of Yorkshire.’
‘Mum must be overjoyed.’
‘She is.’
‘One place or another!’ Miss Dawkins drawled. ‘Once the glamour’s gone.’
‘Oh, Ola!’
‘I maintain there’s little in it.’
‘I long to go about!’ Daisy murmured, pirouetting vainly before the glass.
‘Jesu!’
‘What openings have I here?’
‘There’s time enough yet,’ the Countess assured.
‘One sister should help another.’
‘When you’re eligible we’ll see.’
‘If I’m not eligible now I don’t know who is!’
Miss Dawkins drew on nervously a glove.
‘You’ve my address in Australia, Viscountess, all right?’
‘Belleview – isn’t it? Lake George? …’
‘That’s it, old girl.’
‘I shan’t forget.’
‘I hope the sea’ll be level, dear. I can’t endure it rough.’
‘Write soon.’
Miss Dawkins nodded.
‘It depends on the Master Potter now. But if I ever should find my beloved ones in the East I’ll be sure to let you know.’