girl, and her features were allowed to be nearly perfect. ‘With little Diana, Lady Blentham? But of course!’
‘Large Diana, I’m afraid.’ She saw Maud look up. ‘Could you talk to her? I know how you find very young girls a nuisance! But if you were to tell her that Cambridge, for women, isn’t what she thinks it – I’m sure she would believe you.’
Maud started sewing again.
‘I’ll do more, dear lady,’ said Cornwallis. ‘May I make a very modern and shocking suggestion?’
‘Yes, Mr Cornwallis, though I doubt it will be either,’ Angelina said.
‘I wonder – I wonder whether you would allow Diana – and Violet and Miss Maud, too, if they would care for it! – to come unchaperoned to one of our little parties? Diana could read her poems to us.’
‘Unchaperoned?’ There was silence for a moment, while both rapidly considered whether Maud could be thought old enough to be a respectable chaperone. Maud considered the question too, though they did not guess it had occurred to her. ‘Perhaps you think it’s freedom from control Diana wants?’ added Lady Blentham.
‘No no no ! But isn’t my wife chaperone enough?’ He had a very polite, disarming smile.
‘Of course she is,’ said Angelina after a moment. ‘Yes, I see.Yes. Times are changing, as we have agreed. It’s extremely kind of you, Mr Cornwallis. And it might possibly answer. Maud my dear, you would like it, wouldn’t you? You would like to go with Diana?’
‘Very much, Mamma,’ she said, blushing. ‘Mr Cornwallis was kind enough to invite me.’
‘You’re old enough to have a latchkey – if you had ever asked for it I should have given you one!’
‘Thank you!’ Maud closed her eyes, because she felt too old and tired and stupid to be bothered with a latchkey. Last year in London, Dr Sacheverell had told her that it was not her age or even her anaemia which made her so listless, it was her fondness for laudanum. He had told her to go out, and be active.
Maud heard her mother say: ‘Mr Cornwallis, will you promise me one thing?’
‘Dear lady?’
‘If I give Diana, the girls, a little more freedom – if we let her learn that there are intelligent people, moving in the first circles, who are prepared to encourage her – will you promise me never to allow her to meet Edward’s wife at your house? You see, I never have allowed either her or Violet to go out with anyone but myself, or one of our kinswomen who understands, because of her!’
‘But of course !’ said Cornwallis, thinking that he must remind little Diana, when he introduced her to Kitty, that meeting Kitty had been forbidden by her mamma. She would like that, and so would Edward.
*
Both the Cornwallises were rich and well born. They lived in an odd, graceful house in Half Moon Street, with eighteenth-century furniture and tapestries, black-and-white-tiled or polished floors, and one or two modern things such as vases full of sunflowers and silver-framed photographs. Books were everywhere.
When their literary evening began with an excellent dinner, Diana and Maud were rather disappointed, thinking it little different from many formal dinner-parties in other houses.The conversation, however, was not quite what they were used to.
Maud and Diana were impressed when, over the removes, they learnt that Arthur Wing Pinero (whose latest play had greatly shocked Lady Blentham) was to drop in for a while later in the evening. The Blentham girls had not heard that anyone else at the party was famous, but they supposed during dinner that some must be, for people were talking in a familiar way of Mr James McNeill Whistler, Mr Oscar Wilde and Mrs Humphry Ward. No one mentioned such figures to them, but Diana did manage to make intelligent, brief replies to the elderly man on her left. He wished to discuss modern novelists.
Edward and Kitty were present, and were kind to their sisters as everyone else was, but the girls had little time to talk to them
‘Large Diana, I’m afraid.’ She saw Maud look up. ‘Could you talk to her? I know how you find very young girls a nuisance! But if you were to tell her that Cambridge, for women, isn’t what she thinks it – I’m sure she would believe you.’
Maud started sewing again.
‘I’ll do more, dear lady,’ said Cornwallis. ‘May I make a very modern and shocking suggestion?’
‘Yes, Mr Cornwallis, though I doubt it will be either,’ Angelina said.
‘I wonder – I wonder whether you would allow Diana – and Violet and Miss Maud, too, if they would care for it! – to come unchaperoned to one of our little parties? Diana could read her poems to us.’
‘Unchaperoned?’ There was silence for a moment, while both rapidly considered whether Maud could be thought old enough to be a respectable chaperone. Maud considered the question too, though they did not guess it had occurred to her. ‘Perhaps you think it’s freedom from control Diana wants?’ added Lady Blentham.
‘No no no ! But isn’t my wife chaperone enough?’ He had a very polite, disarming smile.
‘Of course she is,’ said Angelina after a moment. ‘Yes, I see.Yes. Times are changing, as we have agreed. It’s extremely kind of you, Mr Cornwallis. And it might possibly answer. Maud my dear, you would like it, wouldn’t you? You would like to go with Diana?’
‘Very much, Mamma,’ she said, blushing. ‘Mr Cornwallis was kind enough to invite me.’
‘You’re old enough to have a latchkey – if you had ever asked for it I should have given you one!’
‘Thank you!’ Maud closed her eyes, because she felt too old and tired and stupid to be bothered with a latchkey. Last year in London, Dr Sacheverell had told her that it was not her age or even her anaemia which made her so listless, it was her fondness for laudanum. He had told her to go out, and be active.
Maud heard her mother say: ‘Mr Cornwallis, will you promise me one thing?’
‘Dear lady?’
‘If I give Diana, the girls, a little more freedom – if we let her learn that there are intelligent people, moving in the first circles, who are prepared to encourage her – will you promise me never to allow her to meet Edward’s wife at your house? You see, I never have allowed either her or Violet to go out with anyone but myself, or one of our kinswomen who understands, because of her!’
‘But of course !’ said Cornwallis, thinking that he must remind little Diana, when he introduced her to Kitty, that meeting Kitty had been forbidden by her mamma. She would like that, and so would Edward.
*
Both the Cornwallises were rich and well born. They lived in an odd, graceful house in Half Moon Street, with eighteenth-century furniture and tapestries, black-and-white-tiled or polished floors, and one or two modern things such as vases full of sunflowers and silver-framed photographs. Books were everywhere.
When their literary evening began with an excellent dinner, Diana and Maud were rather disappointed, thinking it little different from many formal dinner-parties in other houses.The conversation, however, was not quite what they were used to.
Maud and Diana were impressed when, over the removes, they learnt that Arthur Wing Pinero (whose latest play had greatly shocked Lady Blentham) was to drop in for a while later in the evening. The Blentham girls had not heard that anyone else at the party was famous, but they supposed during dinner that some must be, for people were talking in a familiar way of Mr James McNeill Whistler, Mr Oscar Wilde and Mrs Humphry Ward. No one mentioned such figures to them, but Diana did manage to make intelligent, brief replies to the elderly man on her left. He wished to discuss modern novelists.
Edward and Kitty were present, and were kind to their sisters as everyone else was, but the girls had little time to talk to them
Similar Books
