when you are on duty?”
“I’m afraid it isn’t permitted, madame .”
“A pity,” observed the Countess, taking a sip of her own champagne. “Because I would have liked to put to you a lot of questions. However, you must come and see us one evening and take a drink with us then. I have no doubt you are fully aware that we live at number twenty-four Alison Gardens,” with a distinctly meaning glance at Lucy.
Lucy flushed, but Paul Avery neither accepted nor declined the invitation. Instead he stood aside while the waiter who had carried away the venison returned with the abject apologies of the chef, and the promise of something highly delectable that would arrive in a matter of minutes.
The Countess, mollified immediately, beamed amiably, and Avery bent over Lucy and enquired whether her trout was exactly as she liked it. Lucy, who couldn’t remember the last time she had had trout, looked up at him shyly and assured him without hesitation that, from her point of view, everything connected with the meal was superb. And then to her astonishment she heard him enquire in that soft undertone of his:
“Do you ever go to Kensington Gardens?”
“Oh yes,” she answered. “Practically every afternoon.”
“Then be there tomorrow afternoon at three. A young friend of mine will be sailing his new boat in the Round Pond. You’ll find it worth watching.” Lucy put back her head to look up at him, and his eyes were very dark close above her. She thought they were smiling. The Countess fairly clucked with satisfaction when her fresh dish of venison arrived, and after that she purred continually throughout the meal, declaring that she must have been inspired when she decided they should dine that night at the Splendide. In future they would dine there at least once a month, and if she could afford it they would lunch there occasionally too.
“We must see to it that your friend Avery informs the chef that we require very special attention,” she added, her eyes, bright with the effects of champagne, bewildering Lucy as they studied her across the table and danced with a mixture of humour, appreciation and dryness. “It is always a good thing to have a friend at court, and now we have one here, it seems.”
She insisted on drinking a green chartreuse with her coffee, and before they took their departure sent her compliments to the chef and repeated her invitation to Avery to call and see them one evening when he was off duty.
“I have something very special that I will bring out to celebrate the occasion with,” she said, flushed with good food and the effects of chartreuse on top of champagne, and not entirely steady on her feet as he helped her adjust the lace stole about her shoulders. “A very fine old liqueur brandy that came out of Seronia thirty years ago!”
Very gravely he offered to see them into a taxi, but the old lady declined any assistance save Lucy’s arm.
“Lucy i s a good girl,” she said. “Her life is very dull, but she has some wonderful new clothes.” Her look swept over him, brilliant with mockery. “I’m sure she will enjoy the Round Pond in Kensington Gardens. It is a pity her escort will be nothing but a waiter, but waiters, I understand, make their fortunes out of tips!” and she left a c risp pound note on the table which he could ignore if he wished.
Lucy was glad to get her outside and into the taxi. She had never known the Countess von Ardrath in such an elevated humour before, and she was sure the people who watched them go were entertained.
The Countess’s tiara had slipped rakishly over one eye, she walked erratically, and continued to talk loudly.
“What an evening!” she declared. “What a wonderful evening! I’ve enjoyed every minute of it, and the one thing I would have loved to see was the chef’s face when I returned that superbly cooked venison. It was just a gesture, you know! The sort of gesture I would have made years ago when I knew they expected
“I’m afraid it isn’t permitted, madame .”
“A pity,” observed the Countess, taking a sip of her own champagne. “Because I would have liked to put to you a lot of questions. However, you must come and see us one evening and take a drink with us then. I have no doubt you are fully aware that we live at number twenty-four Alison Gardens,” with a distinctly meaning glance at Lucy.
Lucy flushed, but Paul Avery neither accepted nor declined the invitation. Instead he stood aside while the waiter who had carried away the venison returned with the abject apologies of the chef, and the promise of something highly delectable that would arrive in a matter of minutes.
The Countess, mollified immediately, beamed amiably, and Avery bent over Lucy and enquired whether her trout was exactly as she liked it. Lucy, who couldn’t remember the last time she had had trout, looked up at him shyly and assured him without hesitation that, from her point of view, everything connected with the meal was superb. And then to her astonishment she heard him enquire in that soft undertone of his:
“Do you ever go to Kensington Gardens?”
“Oh yes,” she answered. “Practically every afternoon.”
“Then be there tomorrow afternoon at three. A young friend of mine will be sailing his new boat in the Round Pond. You’ll find it worth watching.” Lucy put back her head to look up at him, and his eyes were very dark close above her. She thought they were smiling. The Countess fairly clucked with satisfaction when her fresh dish of venison arrived, and after that she purred continually throughout the meal, declaring that she must have been inspired when she decided they should dine that night at the Splendide. In future they would dine there at least once a month, and if she could afford it they would lunch there occasionally too.
“We must see to it that your friend Avery informs the chef that we require very special attention,” she added, her eyes, bright with the effects of champagne, bewildering Lucy as they studied her across the table and danced with a mixture of humour, appreciation and dryness. “It is always a good thing to have a friend at court, and now we have one here, it seems.”
She insisted on drinking a green chartreuse with her coffee, and before they took their departure sent her compliments to the chef and repeated her invitation to Avery to call and see them one evening when he was off duty.
“I have something very special that I will bring out to celebrate the occasion with,” she said, flushed with good food and the effects of chartreuse on top of champagne, and not entirely steady on her feet as he helped her adjust the lace stole about her shoulders. “A very fine old liqueur brandy that came out of Seronia thirty years ago!”
Very gravely he offered to see them into a taxi, but the old lady declined any assistance save Lucy’s arm.
“Lucy i s a good girl,” she said. “Her life is very dull, but she has some wonderful new clothes.” Her look swept over him, brilliant with mockery. “I’m sure she will enjoy the Round Pond in Kensington Gardens. It is a pity her escort will be nothing but a waiter, but waiters, I understand, make their fortunes out of tips!” and she left a c risp pound note on the table which he could ignore if he wished.
Lucy was glad to get her outside and into the taxi. She had never known the Countess von Ardrath in such an elevated humour before, and she was sure the people who watched them go were entertained.
The Countess’s tiara had slipped rakishly over one eye, she walked erratically, and continued to talk loudly.
“What an evening!” she declared. “What a wonderful evening! I’ve enjoyed every minute of it, and the one thing I would have loved to see was the chef’s face when I returned that superbly cooked venison. It was just a gesture, you know! The sort of gesture I would have made years ago when I knew they expected
Similar Books
