A Night of Gaiety Read online

  They were more delicious than anything she had ever eaten, and when she said so, Violet smiled at her enthusiasm.

  “I thought you’d enjoy them, and now it’s time to have a little chat. I want to have a rest before I go to the Theatre, and if we start talking then, I shan’t get a chance of some shut-eye.”

  “What do you want to talk to me about?” Davita asked.

  “Yourself,” Violet said. “You told me you came here to get some work, and I’d like to know what your father left you.”

  “Exactly one hundred ninety-nine pounds, ten shillings!” Davita answered. “But out of that I had to pay my fare to London, so it will not last forever.”

  “You’re not carrying it with you?” Violet asked.

  “I would not be so stupid as that. I put most of it in the Bank, and I have a cheque-book of my own!”

  “A cheque-book’s all right,” Violet remarked, “but the Bank-balance is nothing to write home about it; it’s got to last you to your old age.”

  “That is what worries me,” Davita said, “and now you understand why I have to find something to do, and quickly.”

  “I don’t mind telling you it’s what I suspected,” Violet said. “Ma always was extravagant and I guessed she’d clean your father out before she left him.”

  “Why did you think that?” Davita asked.

  She had the awful feeling that Violet was about to say: “because she always did,” but instead there was an uncomfortable silence until Violet replied:

  “I just knew your father wasn’t a rich man.”

  Davita ate a spoonful of the ice-cream before she said in a low voice:

  “Everything had to be sold, and all I possess is now in my two trunks.”

  “I don’t suppose that’s worth much, judging from the wardrobe I’ve seen so far,” Violet remarked.

  Davita flushed.

  She was not going to explain that the dress she was wearing had been her mother’s.

  She knew only too well how dowdy it must appear to Violet, in her fashionable, expensive clothes which had been paid for by Lord Mundesley.

  “Now if you ask me,” Violet was saying, “you’ve as much hope of finding anyone to employ you as flying over the moon. You are too young, for one thing, and for another it’d be just sheer waste of your looks.” Davita stared at her in surprise, and she said almost angrily:

  “Come on, Davita! Don’t play the idiot with me! You’re as aware as I am that with your red hair and your baby-face, most men are ready to fall flat at the sight of you.”

  “I am sure that is not true.”

  “It’s too true for my liking,” Violet said somewhat tartly, “but never mind that. What I want to do is to set you up one way or another, either with marriage, which is difficult, or with money, which is easier.”

  “What ... do you mean ... easy?” Davita enquired.

  “I’m not going to say too much now,” Violet said, “but I want you to promise to trust me and leave me to look after you.”

  She paused before she went on:

  “I’m fond of you, Davita. You know as much about life as a chicken that’s just popped out of the egg. But as there’s no-one else, it’s got to be me!”

  “I do not wish to be a nuisance to you.”

  “I know that,” Violet answered, “but it’s my duty to see that you aren’t reduced to the same state as Rosie.”

  Davita stiffened.

  “I hope I never behave in such an uncontrolled manner,” she said, “but I was very, very sorry for her.”

  “She only had herself to blame,” Violet replied. “She’s the whining, complaining, possessive sort, which would bore any man after he’d got used to her face.”

  Davita thought that was rather hard, but she said nothing, and Violet went on:

  “Now, you’re different. That young spring-like look would charm the wisest old pigeon off the tree. But if it’s my pigeon, it’s something I’ve got to prevent.”

  “I do not ... understand.”

  “That’s all the better!” Violet replied. “What you’ve got to do is promise me that whatever happens, you’ll do what I tell you and say nothing I wouldn’t want you to say in front of other people.”

  Davita continued to look puzzled and Violet went on: “What I’m asking you to do is to believe that I’m doing everything in my power that’s in your best interests. Is that clear?”

  “Y-yes ... of course ... I am very grateful,” Davita answered. “It is just that I do not ... understand ...”

  “You don’t have to,” Violet said.

  She put up her hand to call the waiter.

  “Come on, I must go home now or I’ll look hideous, and we are going to a party.”

  “A party?” Davita exclaimed.

  “Yes, a really good one given by a friend of mine, and you’ll enjoy it. Have you got a decent evening-gown?”

  “I do not know what you would think of it,” Davita answered.

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing ... it is ... white.”

  “White?”

  “It was my mother’s wedding-gown, which she altered and sometimes wore on special occasions.”

  “Well, that’s exactly what you want,” Violet exclaimed. “A wedding-gown. It couldn’t be more suitable!”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THEY DROVE BACK to their lodgings, and while Davita was longing to ask Violet a hundred questions, she had the feeling that she would not answer them.

  At the same time, she was very touched that Violet should be so concerned for her.

  After all, she was well aware that she was somewhat of an encumbrance, and she told herself that she must try to find a job on her own and not impose on Violet.

  ‘She is right,’ Davita thought, ‘I am ignorant of the world, but how could I be anything else after living in Scotland and seeing so few people?’

  Of one thing she was determined—she would not be critical of Violet or her friends.

  It was nothing to do with her if Violet liked to be friends with a married man, and even less her concern that they should hate the Marquis and plot against him.

  When she thought of last night, it seemed to her a whirligig of colour, noise, and laughter. At the same time, the Show itself had been an excitement which she felt she would always remember.

  The glamorous actresses, the beauty of the girls like Violet, and the laughter evoked by Fred Lacey were all like something out of a dream.

  “Goodness, I’m tired!” Violet said suddenly, breaking in on her thoughts. “It’s all these late nights. Thank goodness I can get nearly two hours’ sleep before we have to go to the Theatre.”

  “Am I to come with you?” Davita asked.

  “Of course you are!” Violet said. “You can sit in the dressing-room—or, if you wish, in the Box with Bertie.”

  There was just a pause before the last few words, and Davita said quickly:

  “I will sit in the dressing-room. After all, I saw the Show last night.”

  She thought Violet seemed relieved, and she certainly smiled before she said:

  “You’re a sensible girl, Davita. The trouble is, you’re not only pretty but something new, and there’s not a man alive who doesn’t like a novelty.”

  Davita looked at her in surprise, not understanding what she was talking about, but because she wanted to please Violet she said:

  “I am so grateful to you for being so kind to me. If you had sent me away last night, I do not know what I should have done.”

  “Leave everything to me,” Violet said in a brisk tone. “I’ve said I’ll look after you and I will.”

  The cab drew up outside their lodgings, Violet paid the cabby, and Billy opened the door to them to say with a grin:

  “There be some flowers oopstairs for yer. No guesses who sent ’em!”

  “I’ve told you before not to read the cards on my flowers,” Violet said sharply.

  “Oi didn’t ’ave to,” B
illy answered. “ ’Is Nibs sent ’is footlicker wi’ ’em!”

  He spoke as if he was glad to score off Violet, but she merely tossed her head as if he were beneath her notice and went up the stairs.

  Davita followed her and Violet opened the door of her bedroom, which was a large, well-decorated room at least six times the size of Davita’s.

  Inside there was a basket of purple orchids that made her exclaim with astonishment:

  “I have never seen anything so exotic!”

  There were several other floral arrangements in the room, which Davita could not help thinking looked very different from the rest of the house.

  The large bed had a pink satin cover on it trimmed with lace which matched the pillow-cases, and there were a number of satin cushions on the chaise-longue and on two comfortable arm-chairs arranged on either side of the fireplace.

  There were white fur rugs on the floor, and the tasselled pink silk curtains were very different from the roughly made Holland ones which covered the windows of Davita’s room.

  What made it different from any other bedroom Davita had ever seen were the photographs which were arranged on the mantelshelf, the dressing-table, and on every other piece of furniture.

  Stuck on the wall on each side of the mantelpiece were press-cuttings.

  These of course all referred to Violet, and the photographs were mostly of her, although some of them were of other actresses, and one or two of men.

  They were all signed, and Davita thought she would enjoy looking at them when there was time.

  But Violet said now:

  “Undo my gown for me, and the quicker I can get between the sheets, the better. I forgot to tell Billy to knock on my door at five-thirty. Will you remind him?”

  “Yes, of course I will,” Davita replied as she undid Violet’s gown.

  She hung it up in the wardrobe, and by the time she had put away her hat, Violet had covered her hair with a net to keep it tidy, slipped into her nightgown, and was in bed.

  Davita drew the curtains and as she left the room she fancied that Violet was already asleep.

  She thought she would go into her own room and take off her bonnet.

  Then when she opened the door she had a shock, for perched on top of one of her trunks, because there was nowhere else to put it, was a basket nearly as large as the one in Violet’s room, but instead of orchids it was filled with white roses and lilies.

  She was staring at it in astonishment, thinking it must really have been meant for Violet, until seeing the card attached to the handle she pulled it off and read:

  To a very bonny lassie from a most admiring Mundesley

  Davita drew in her breath.

  It struck her that Violet would be annoyed at Lord Mundesley spending so much money and paying so much attention to her.

  She looked at the card, read it again, and wished it was possible to send the flowers back without Violet being aware that he had given them to her.

  ‘I shall have to thank him,’ she thought, and she wished again, as she had last night, that she need not see him again.

  Then she remembered Violet’s message and hurried down the stairs to find Billy.

  She reached the last flight and saw him speaking to somebody at the front door. As she came down into the Hall, she could see that it was a servant in livery.

  Billy turned round and saw her.

  “Ah, t’ere y’ are, Miss. Oi were comin’ to find yer.”

  “I was coming to find you,” Davita replied. “Miss Lock says please remember to knock on her door at five-thirty.”

  “Oi’ll not forget,” Billy answered. “An’ t’ere’s some-un ’ere as wants t’ speak t’ yer.”

  “Speak to me?” Davita questioned in surprise.

  She saw that the servant was no longer standing in the doorway but was outside in the street where there was a closed brougham.

  “Who is it?” she asked.

  “Oi were just told ’twas a gent’man as wants to ’ave a word wiv yer.”

  Davita stood irresolute.

  It would only be one of two gentlemen, and if it was Lord Mundesley she had no wish to speak to him.

  Yet she knew it would be rude to refuse, and it flashed through her mind that while she must thank him for the flowers, she would ask him not to send her any more.

  Billy was holding the door open for her, and she walked down the steps and across the pavement to where a footman was standing with his hand on the carriage-door.

  When she reached it he opened it, and Davita could see, as she had feared, Lord Mundesley sitting inside. He bent forward and held out his hand.

  “Get in, Davita. I want to speak to you.”

  “I was just ... going to ... lie down.”

  “I will not keep you long.”

  Because she did not know what else she could do, Davita put her hand in his to let him draw her into the carriage. As she sat down beside him, the horses started to move and she asked:

  “Where are you taking me? I really have to go back.”

  “We are merely moving a little farther up the road so that we can talk without being observed,” Lord Mundesley replied.

  She knew without his putting it into words that what he meant was so that Violet would not see them.

  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.”

  As 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.”

  Davita 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 togethe
r.” 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.