My eyes opened widely, but I said nothing. I glanced at Jack, and saw his face harden.
"I have been told to drive the car, and it is my duty to drive it unless I receive different orders," said he.
"I"m giving you different orders," said Bertie.
"I take my orders only from the owner of the car."
"You"re beastly impertinent," snapped Bertie, "and I"ll report you to Sir Samuel."
"As you choose," returned Jack, turning the starting-handle.
"Why don"t you say "sir" when you speak to me? You don"t seem to have trained into chauffeur manners yet."
"If I were your chauffeur, you would have the right to criticize. As I"m not, and never will be, you haven"t. Mademoiselle, the car"s ready. Will you get in?"
I jumped into my usual place, beside the driver"s seat.
"Ah, you sit by the chauffeur, do you?" said Bertie. "I don"t wonder he wants to keep his job."
For an instant I was afraid that Jack would strike him.
My blood rushed to my head, and I half rose from the seat, with a choked, warning whisper of "Jack!"
It was the first time I"d called him that, except to myself, and I saw him give the faintest start. He looked at the other man, and then, though Bertie stepped quickly forward as if to open the car door and jump in, he sprang to his place, and we were off.
"He means mischief," I said, when I felt able to speak.
"So do I, if he does," answered Jack.
"I wish you"d do me a favour," I went on. "Keep away from that awful ball to-night."
"What! With you there? I know my business better."
I couldn"t help laughing. "Your present business, I believe," said I, "is that of a chauffeur."
"With extra duty as watch-dog."
"I can"t bear to have you see me in the ridiculous get-up Lady Turnour is making me wear, that"s the selfish part of my reason--and--and it will be so _horrid_ for you, in every way."
"I"m callous to anything they can do now, except one thing."
"What?"
"If you don"t know already, I mean where you"re concerned."
"You"re very kind to me."
"Kind? Yes, I am very "kind." A man has to be abnormally "kind" to want to look after a girl like you."
"How bitterly you speak!" I exclaimed, hardly understanding him.
"I feel bitter sometimes. Do you wonder? But for heaven"s sake, don"t let"s talk of me. Let"s talk of something pleasant. Would you care to do a little sight-seeing in Clermont-Ferrand, if your shopping doesn"t take us too long?"
I a.s.sured him that it would not take ten minutes; and it didn"t take more. I saved a franc on the transaction, too, which would console her ladyship if I got back a few minutes late; and with that thought in my mind, I abandoned myself to the joy of the expedition. We went to the Petrifying Fountain, and inspected its strange menagerie of stone animals; we made a dash into the Cathedral where St. Louis was married, and looked at the beautiful thirteenth-century gla.s.s in the windows, and the strange frescoes; we rushed in and out of Notre Dame du Port, stopping on the way in the _Place_ where the first Crusade was proclaimed, and to gaze at the house and statue of Pascal. Jack would squander some of his extremely hard earned money on a box of the burnt almonds for which Clermont-Ferrand is celebrated; and when we had seen everything I dared stop to see, he ran the car to Montferrand, to show me some ancient and wonderful houses, famous all over France. Eventually he threatened to spin me out to Royat, but I pleaded the certainty that Lady Turnour would wish to change into her smartest tea-gown for "feef oclocky" and that I must be there to a.s.sist at the ceremony.
So we turned castleward, with all the speed the law allows, if not a little more; and I arrived with a pair of red stockings, cheap high-heeled slippers, a franc in change, and a queer presentiment of dangerous things to happen.
CHAPTER XXVIII
Although a good many neighbours were coming to the Chateau de Roquemartine to look on at the servants" ball, they were all to drive or motor over in their ordinary dinner dress; it was only the servants themselves who were to "make toilettes."
Lady Turnour, however, who regretted having missed the smart ball for the great world, given a few nights before, determined that people should be forced to appreciate her wealth and position; and the wardrobe of Solomon in all his glory could hardly have produced anything to exceed her gold tissue, diamante.
When I had squeezed, and poked, and pushed her into it, and was bejewelling her, Sir Samuel came, as usual, to have his white cravat tied by me. Bertie, too, appeared, dressed for dinner, and watched me with silent amus.e.m.e.nt as I performed my evening duty for his stepfather.
"Pretty gorgeous, aren"t you?" he remarked to Lady Turnour; but she was flattered rather than annoyed by the criticism, and sailed away good-natured, leaving me to gather up the few jewels of her collection which she had discarded. Lately I had been trusted with her treasures, and felt the responsibility disagreeably, especially as my mistress--when she remembered it--counted everything ostentatiously over, after relieving me of my charge.
To-night I had just begun picking up the brooches, bracelets, diamond stars, coronets and bursting suns which illuminated the dressing-table firmament, when Bertie walked in again, through the door that he had left ajar.
"I came back because my necktie"s a failure," said he. "My man must be in love, I should think. Probably with you! Anyhow, something"s the matter; his fingers are all thumbs. But you turned out my old governor rippin"ly. You"ll do me, won"t you?"
As he spoke, he untied his cravat, and produced another.
"I"m sorry," I said. "I don"t know how to do _that_ kind of tie."
"What--what?" he stared. "It"s just the same as the governor"s--only a little better. Come along, there"s a dear." He had pushed the door to; now he shut it.
I walked to the other end of the room, and began folding a blouse.
"You"d better give your valet another trial," I said. "I"m _not_ a valet. I"m Lady Turnour"s maid."
"She"s in luck to get you."
"I"m engaged to wait upon _her_."
"You are stiff! You do the governor"s tie."
"Sir Samuel"s very kind to me."
"Well, I"ll be kind, too. I"d like nothing better. I"ll be a lot kinder than he"d dare to be. I say, I"ve got a present for you--something rippin", that you"ll like. You can wear it at the ball to-night, but you"d better not tell anyone who gave it to you--what? You shall have it for tyin" my necktie. Now, don"t you call that "kind"?"
I stopped folding the blouse, and increased my height by at least an inch. "No," I said, "I call it impertinent, and I shall be obliged if you will leave Lady Turnour"s room. That"s the only thing you can do for me."
"By Jove!" said Bertie. "What theatre were you at before you took to lady"s maidin"?"
To this I deigned no answer.