Lady of the Basement Flat

Horne Vaizey Mrs. George de

Description

What would you do if the sister with whom you had spent your whole life was suddenly whisked away by a suitor? That's exactly the fate that befalls a certain Miss Harding, the eccentric heroine at the center of The Lady of the Basement Flat. Dedicating herself to charitable acts carried out under the cloak of anonymity, Miss Harding is able to find some measure of happiness -- when suddenly, love turns her whole world upside down.

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 février 2012
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781775456865
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE LADY OF THE BASEMENT FLAT
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MRS. GEORGE DE HORNE VAIZEY
 
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The Lady of the Basement Flat First published in 1917 ISBN 978-1-77545-686-5 © 2012 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter One - Why Not? Chapter Two - Aunt Eliza Speaks Chapter Three - Charmion Fane Intervenes Chapter Four - A Talk in London Chapter Five - Pastimes—And Mr Maplestone Chapter Six - Hunting the Flat Chapter Seven - Hostilities? Chapter Eight - The Vicarage Calls Chapter Nine - An Encounter in Force Chapter Ten - Mrs Merrivale Confesses Chapter Eleven - The Garden Fete Chapter Twelve - A Revelation Chapter Thirteen - More Bitter than Death Chapter Fourteen - A Young Wife's Dilemma Chapter Fifteen - A Startling Proposal of Marriage Chapter Sixteen - A Glorious Thing Chapter Seventeen - Neighbours—And Real Work Chapter Eighteen - A Struggle for a Life Chapter Nineteen - A Double Excitement Chapter Twenty - Strange Conversations Chapter Twenty One - Mr Maplestone is Pleased Chapter Twenty Two - Mrs Merrivale's Appeal Chapter Twenty Three - A Brute—And a Revelation Chapter Twenty Four - It's a Queer World Chapter Twenty Five - Two Glorified Beings Chapter Twenty Six - Love's a New Life
Chapter One - Why Not?
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At three o'clock this afternoon Evelyn Wastneys died. I am EvelynWastneys, and I died, standing at the door of an old country home inIreland, with my hands full of ridiculous little silver shoes andhorseshoes, and a Paris hat on my head, and a trembling treble voicewhispering in my ear:—
"Good-bye, Evelyn darling—darling! Thank you—thank you for all youhave been to me! Oh, Evelyn, promise you will not be unhappy!"
Then some mysterious hidden muscle, whose existence I had never beforesuspected, pulled two little strings at the corners of my mouth, and mylips smiled—a marionette smile—and a marionette voice criedjauntily:—
"Unhappy? Never! Why, I am free! I am going to begin to live."
Then I watched a tall bridegroom in tweeds tenderly help a little bridein mole-coloured taffeta and sable furs into the waiting car, the hornblew, the engines whirled, a big hand and a little one flourishedhandkerchiefs out of the window, a white satin shoe danced ridiculouslyafter the wheels, and Aunt Emmeline cried sensibly:—
"That's over, thank goodness! The wind is sharp! Let's have tea!"
She hurried into the house to give orders, and the old Evelyn Wastneysstood staring after the car, as it sped down the drive, passed throughthe lodge gates, and spun out into the high road. She had thestrangest, most curious feeling that it was only the ghost of herselfwho stood there—a ghost in a Paris hat and gown, with long suede gloveswrinkled up her arms, and a pendant of mingled initials sparkling on herlace waistcoat. The real, true Evelyn—a little, naked, shiveringcreature—was skurrying after that car, bleating piteously to be takenin.
But the car rolled on quicker and quicker, its occupants too much takenup with themselves to have time to waste on dull other people. Inanother minute it was out of sight, but the ghost did not come back.The new Evelyn lingered upon the steps, waiting for it to return. Therewas such a blank, empty ache in the place where her heart used to be.It seemed impossible that that skurrying little ghost would not comeback, nestle again in its own place, and warm up the empty void. But itnever came back. The new Evelyn turned and walked into the house.
"Well, it has all gone off very well! Kathleen looked quite nice,though I always do say that a real lace veil is less becoming thantulle. There was a rose and thistle pattern right across her nose, andpersonally I think those sheaves of lilies are too large. I hope she'llbe happy, I am sure! Mr Anderson seems a nice man; but one neverknows. It's always a risk going abroad. A young Canadian proposed tome as a girl. I said to him, 'Do you think you could be nice enough tomake up to me for home, and country, and relations and friends, andassociations and customs, and everything I have valued all my life?' Hesaid it was a matter of opinion. What did I think? I said it wasridiculous nonsense. No man was nice enough! So he married RosaBates, and I hear their second boy is a hunchback. You are eatingnothing, my dear. Take a scone. Let's hope it's all for the best!"
"Best or worst, it's done now," I said gloomily. Basil Anderson wascertainly "nice," and, unlike Aunt Emmeline, my sister Kathleenentertained no doubt that he could fill every gap—home, country,friends, a selection of elderly aunts, and even that only sister who hadso far acted as buffer between herself and the storms of life. At thisvery moment the mole-coloured toque was probably reclining comfortablyon the tweed shoulder, and a smile was replacing tears as a big boomingvoice cried comfortably:—
"Evelyn! Oh, she'll be all right! Don't worry about Evelyn, honey.Think of me !"
Following the line of the least resistance, I took the scone and chewedit vacantly. Figuratively speaking, it tasted of dust and ashes;literally, it tasted of nothing at all, and the tea was just a hot fluidwhich had to be swallowed at intervals, as medicine is swallowed ofnecessity.
Aunt Emmeline helped herself systematically from each of the plates inturn, working steadily through courses of bread and butter, sandwiches,scone, petits fours , and wedding cake. She was a scraggy woman, withthe appetite of a giant. Kathie and I used to wonder where the foodwent! Probably to her tongue!
"Of course," said Aunt Emmeline, continuing her thoughts aloud, as washer disconcerting habit, "Kathleen has money, and that gives a wife awhip hand. I begged her only yesterday to stand up for herself. Thoselittle fair women are so apt to be bullied. I knew a case. Well, mind,we'll hope it mayn't come to that ! If she is sensible and doesn'texpect too much, things may work out all right. Especially for thefirst years. If anything does go wrong, it will be your fault,Evelyn, for spoiling her as you have done."
"Thanks very much for the cheering thought," I said snappily. AuntEmmeline helped herself to a sandwich, and blinked with exasperatingforbearance.
"Not cheerful, perhaps, but it may be useful ! If you'd taken myadvice. It's never too late to mend, Evelyn."
"Even at twenty-six?"
Aunt Emmeline surveyed me critically. She was taking stock, andconsidering just how young, how old, how fresh, how damaged thoselengthy years had left my physical charms. I looked in a long glassopposite, and took stock at the same time. A smart young woman—oh,very smart indeed, for as Kathie had argued, if you can't "blow" expensefor your only sister's wedding, when on earth are you going to do it?Light brown hair, "still untouched by grey," hazel eyes with very long,very finely marked eyebrows (secretly they are the joy of my life!) goodfeatures, and a sulky expression. The old Evelyn used to be verygood-looking—(she's dead now, so I can say so, as much as I like)—thisnew one is good-looking too, in a disagreeable, unattractive kind ofway. If you saw her dining at the next table in an hotel you would say,"Rather a fine-looking girl!" And the man with you would reply, "Thinkso! Too much of a temper for my fancy. Glad she don't belong to me."I realised as much as I looked in the glass, and that made me crosserthan ever. If I had been alone, able to cry, or storm, or grizzle, orgo to bed just as I liked, I could have borne it better; but fancylosing your home, and your occupation, and the only person in all theworld you really loved, all in one day, and coming straight from thewreck to have tea with Aunt Emmeline!
The sandwich was finished before the inspection. A piece of sconefollowed.
"Of course," said Aunt Emmeline, "you are not in your first bloom. That we can't expect. Your colour is a little harder and more fixed"(the figure in the glass gave a spasmodic jerk. The sulky expressionwas pierced by a gleam of fear. " Fixed !" Good gracious! She mightbe talking of those old people who have little red lines over theircheek-bones in the place of "bloom". It's ridiculous to say I am"fixed". It is a matter of indifference to me how I look, but I doinsist on truth!) "and your air of pride and independence is unbecomingin an unmarried girl. Men like to see a girl sweet, clinging, pliant."
"What men?"
" All men!"
"Oh! And in my case, for instance, to whom would you suggest I shouldproceed to cling?"
"That," said Aunt Emmeline briskly, "is precisely what I wish todiscuss." She lifted the last morsel of scone from the plate, stared atit, and popped it into her mouth. "My dear, has it ever occurred to youto think what you are going to do ?"
"Aunt Emmeline, for the last months it has rarely occurred to me tothink of anything else!"
"Very well then, that's all to the good. As I said to Aunt Eliza, letus leave her alone till Kathleen has gone. Evelyn is obstinate, and ifyou interfere she will only grow more pig-headed. Let her find thingsout for herself. Experience, Eliza, will do more than either you or I.Sooner or later, even Evelyn must realise that you can't run a house,and garden, and stable, in the same way on half the ordinary income.Now that Kathleen is married, she naturally takes with her her ownfortune."
She looked at me expectantly, and I smiled, another stiff, marionettesmile—and said:—
"How true! Curiously enough, that fact has already penetrated to mydull brain!"
"Now I do hope and pray, Evelyn,