THE COLLECTED NOVELS OF E. M. DELAFIELD (6 Titles in One Edition). E. M. Delafield
is applied to an innocent child like Zella, one almost feels as though poor dear Esmée must rise from the grave, as it were."
The mention of Esmée's name succeeded in silencing Louis at once, and Mrs. Lloyd-Evans, with characteristic perseverance, returned to her original theme:
"Besides, one does want to see the child happily settled. Look at my Muriel—who could be happier? A devoted husband, a really thoroughly good man to take care of her, and a charming home of her very own."
Louis being a gentleman, Mrs. Lloyd-Evans refrained from mentioning Muriel's most recent cause for rejoicing, which would not for some months to come form part of that strictly limited multitude of things which may be freely talked about.
"I am glad she is so happy," said Louis gently.
"She is indeed, and I don't wonder it makes you wish Zella were the same. But she will enjoy a little gaiety this summer, and, after all, a girl must have her youth and a little fun before she settles down. But I do not advise a London season, Louis; indeed, it is almost too late to think of it this year. And, besides, that is not the thing."
Her mysterious emphasis almost hypnotized Louis.
"A country-house is really what one wants. Let a man see a girl in her own home, pouring out tea and doing little odd jobs in the house and garden—you know exactly the sort of thing I mean, and how one gets to know one another really well, staying in the same house, far better than just meeting at a dance or a dinner-party here and there."
"Yes, I suppose so," said the fascinated Louis, walking faster and faster to keep up with his sister-in-law's excited pace.
"I am very, very glad that we see it all in the same light, dear Louis, but you and I always understand one another. And a little house-party at Villetswood just about the end of July will be delightful. I don't know what you think about dates?"
With a sense of fatality, Louis resigned himself.
"You had better settle it all with Zella—and my sister, of course—since you are so kind, Marianne. I should like James to come down, you know."
"Thank you, Louis; then I will bring him. That will be very nice. I think Zella might ask one or two of her own friends; and James shall bring a friend from Oxford, if he may."
"Oh, certainly."
"Louis, it is just as I said to Henry this morning. You only need rousing. Henry said to me that he knew just how it was. You shut yourself up in your study and forget all about everything, but the moment one puts it before you in the right light, there you are."
Louis wondered what conclusion she thought she had. reached.
"And here is Sloane Street," exclaimed Mrs. Lloyd-Evans in an introductory tone. There indeed was Sloane Street.
"I hope I have my key safely in my little bag. I always think that in London one never knows, which is why I twist the strap round my wrist like that. Louis, I will write to you about plans. I have several—several," repeated Mrs. Lloyd-Evans abstractedly as she fumbled in her little bag.
Louis felt oddly dismayed.
"Yes, do write to me," he said; "and we shall be very glad to see you and Henry any time you can come— and James, of course."
"Thank you very much. It is so good of you to have listened to all my little schemes," said Mrs. Lloyd-Evans, who had carefully refrained from mentioning them.
"I am more than grateful to you for thinking so much of Zella's future," returned Louis with a Frenchman's almost mechanical courtesy.
"Then," exclaimed Mrs. Lloyd-Evans, with an air of suppressed triumph that irresistibly reminded Louis of a conjurer suddenly producing a hitherto concealed rabbit—"then I may ask poor Mr. Pontisbury?"
Louis very nearly exclaimed, "I knew it!" but demanded instead:
"And who, in the name of fortune, is poor Mr. Pontisbury, Marianne?"
"I do not know why I call him poor, for he is very well off indeed, and a really nice man. He admired Zella very much at Muriel's wedding, and is most anxious to meet her again. I did tell him that I would try and arrange something," s id Mrs. Lloyd-Evans with an air of abstraction, and trying to look as though she did not remember having definitely assured Mr. Pontisbury that he should receive an invitation to Villetswood in the course of the summer.
"But who is he?" gloomily demanded Louis.
"The eldest son of Sir Charles Pontisbury. Yorkshire people. They have a most delightful place near Harrogate, and this boy has only two sisters, both of them married. They are a most charming family."
"What sort of age is he?"
"Between twenty-seven and thirty, I should say, which I always think is just the right age for a man."
On this cryptic assurance they arrived at the Lloyd-Evans's flat.
"Good-bye, Louis; I won't ask you to come in, as the servants went down to Boscombe to-day, and it is all most uncomfortable. But I will write and tell you as soon as I hear from James as to what date he can get away—and from Stephen Pontisbury, too,". added Mrs. Lloyd-Evans with a playful smile, and skilfully interposing the swinging glass door of the entrance hall between this assumption of an invitation to Mr. Pontisbury and any possible protest on the part of his prospective host.
Waving her hand brightly, she disappeared into the lift.
"Marianne is too much for me. I cannot cope with such diplomacy," Louis said to himself as he walked away.
"Pontisbury! Ce nom-là ne me dit rien. That boy James was right: there is no romance left. If I had my time over again, and admired a pretty young lady, I should take steps of my own, and promptly too, towards meeting her; I should not be content to leave it to the manoeuvres of an ingenious aunt."
Thus Louis, talking to himself after the fashion of a lonely man, in a manner that to the penetrating Mrs. Lloyd-Evans would have denoted nothing less than insanity.
The final conclusion he attained to was that poor Marianne was always finding mare's-nests, and the possible intentions of Mr. Pontisbury need not be taken into consideration until he had given some tangible evidence of their existence.
While Mrs. Lloyd-Evans told her Henry, with some triumph, that she had a great many little schemes for dear Zella's happiness, all of which, under Providence, were now on the high-road to success; and, moreover, issued instructions to her Maker that same evening as to the further movements of Mr. Pontisbury. After which she was able to fall asleep in the comfortable security of having made assurance doubly sure.
Her triumph was not diminished when Mr. Pontisbury sent a civil if placid acceptance to the invitation which she eagerly despatched, with her brother-in-law's reluctant sanction, for the last week in July.
Zella viewed these schemes for her entertainment with an indifference that was mostly real until a few days before the arrival of the house-party, when it became almost entirely simulated. Not altogether, since she had arrived at the stage of discovering Robert Louis Stevenson, and was absorbed in the cultivation of a new attitude of mind, which necessitated much outward and visible expression of the peace and courage within, in the shape of a bright, free smile and gaily courteous demeanour towards her fellow-creatures.
"The little one is egayée at the prospect of her birthday party," said the guileless Stéphanie to her brother, who replied that he rejoiced to hear that this was so, and would Stéphanie see that Zella had any new frocks she might require?
"I want her to enjoy herself," he said rather wistfully, "and I suppose all these people will amuse her."
"But yes, Louis, and she likes her Cousin James," shrewdly remarked Mdlle. de Kervoyou; "of that I can assure you."
"Tant mieux! You know that he and I are friends, though I am elderly and he is young—at all events in years. James is of an unusual personality; I look forward to seeing what he will make of life."
"He is very different to the few specimens