Under the Lilies and Roses. A novel

Front matter

UNDER THE LILIES AND ROSES. VOL. II. a UNDER THE LILIES AND ROSES. A N 0 V E L. liY FLORENCE MARRYAT (MRS FRANCIS LEAN), AUTHOR OF 'LOVE'S CONFLICT,' 'VERONIQUE,' ETC., ETC. ' Oh ! serpent heart ! hid with a flowering face.' Shakespeare. ' These are the spiders of Society, They weave their petty webs of lies and sneers. And lie themselves in ambush for the spoil.' Landon. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. II. LONDON : F. V. WHITE & CO., 31 SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND, W.C. 1884. F. V. WHITE & CO.'S SELECT NOVELS BY POPULAR AUTHORS. Crow?i Zvo, cloth, y. 6d. euch. The following Volumes of the Series are now ready, and can be obtained of all Booksellers in Town and Country, and at all Railway Bookstalls :— BY FLORENCE MARRYAT. MY SISTER THE ACTRESS. A BROKEN BLOSSOM. PHYLLIDA. THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. FACING THE FOOTLIGHTS.

BY ANNIE THOMAS. ALLERTON TOWERS. FRIENDS AND LOVERS. BY^MB^LIOART. THE DEAN'S \VIFj|$& SOME OF OUR GX^^J BY LABYjgCggii^LNCE HOWARD. SWEETHEART AND WIFE. MOLLIE DARLING. By the Author of 'RECOMMENDED TO MERCY.' BARBARA'S WARNING. BY MRS ALEXANDER FRASER. A PROFESSIONAL BEAUTY. BY HARRIETT JAY. TWO MEN AND A MAID. CONTENTS.

Chapter I. The Tableaux Vivants

HE day fixed for the party and the tableaux vivants has arrived, and the costumier having failed (after the manner of his kind) to despatch the costumes until the last moment, a dress rehearsal becomes imperatively necessary on the same morning. Ruthven meets Viola in the upper corridor, on her way to join the company in the drawing-room. VOL. II. A 'Well, Miss Rayne! and how do you feel about the rehearsal ? ' ' Very nervous. I am certain I shall be compelled to stand with that man after all.' ' You have no faith then in my promises ?' ' Yes ; I trust you — that is, I am sure you have done, and will do, all in your power to help me ; but — ' ' That horrid "but." It undoes all the rest.' ' You require such blind trust, Mr Ruth ven. If you would only tell me — ' * What I don't know myself. Were I a clairvoyant, I would, but as it is, I know as little as you do.

Except that you will not stand for the " Huguenot " with Sir Bate Coombe.' She raises her eyes to his quickly. ' Are you sure — quite sure ?' ' Quite — quite sure. I have provided against that, at all events, as you will soon acknowledge. But who may be selected to take his place, I cannot say.' ' Oh ! never mind that,' cries the girl joyfully. ' So long as it is not Sir Bate, I don't mind who it is.' ' Viola, would you be vexed if it were I ?' She flushes like the heart of a rose. Vexed ! to have his arm round her — his eyes gazing into her own. The very idea fills her with such a troubled joy, that she turns it off with a laugh. ' Why should I, Mr Ruthven ? You are not Sir Bate ! ' ' Thank God ! No. I would not ex change places with him, if he were the richest, the handsomest, and the most agreeable man in Europe.' ' Why not ? ' ' Because you dislike him, Viola.' It is the second time he has called her by her Christian name, and she has not rebuked him.

With each word he utters, she feels that they are drawing closer and closer to dangerous ground, and yet there is a fascinating sweetness in the insecurity which she cannot resist. But she will not encourage him by any movement on her own part. Her voice has no tremble in it as she answers, — ' Yes, I do dislike him, as you know, most heartily ! ' ' And me ? ' ' I don't think you have any right to ask the question, Mr Ruthven. Surely my actions may be left to speak for them selves.' ' Has friendship then no rights ? Did you not accept a flower from me once, in token of our friendship ? ' ' In that case, there is no need to ask me anything. I cannot dislike the person with whom I would be friends.' ' Oh, Viola ! say that you are my friend, that you think me worthy of your friend ship. If you only knew how much I stand in need of a true affection — something that shall make me hold my head higher in the world — make me rise above the useless, trifling life I lead — make me feel — ' He has seized her hand, and Viola, though trembling, lets it rest in his, believ ing that the avowal of love which she has seen hovering on his lips for days past, is coming at last — when Lady Swansdown suddenlv emero-es from her boudoir, and the culprits start asunder like broken bows.

But not before the countess has observed their action. Ruthven feels she has, and looks guiltily conscious — but Viola stands before her hostess like a young empress, who dares the world to find fault with any thing she may say or do. Lady Swans down bears down upon Ruthven with eyes of fire, and a voice that can ill conceal her suppressed annoyance. ' Oh! here you are, Mr Ruthven. I was just about to send for you. You have made a most embarrassing mistake with respect to the costumier.' 'Indeed! How is that?' ' Why, you must have taken Sir Bate's measurement entirely wrong, or have mistaken his for that of someone else, for they have sent down the "Huguenot" dress for a man half his size. What can you have been thinking about ? It is im possible he can stand for the tableau, and it will spoil my programme.' ' Never mind the programme.

Put another man in the part ; your guests will be none the wiser.' ' But how came you to be so stupid ? ' ' Perhaps it is not my stupidity. Pro bably the costumier had not a suitable dress of the size required, and so he sent down the first that came to hand.' ' Excuse me, Mr Ruthven ! Your list of measurements was returned with the costumes, and there are the figures in your own handwriting. I wish I had never trusted you to take the measurement at all.' ' That's very grateful, Lady Swansdown, considering the trouble I took about the horrid things. Please remember I was not brought up to be a tailor, as they say the baronet's late grandfather was.' ' I won't have you talk scandal in my house ; you know I never allow it. But — if Miss Rayne has quite finished her con versation with you,' says the countess spitefully, ' perhaps we had better descend to the drawing-room.' Miss Rayne is a match for her adversary. ' We had not quite finished our conver sation,' she answers, quietly ; ' but doubt less we shall find another opportunity of continuing it.' At which the countess, too indignant for repartee, sweeps downstairs, and the girl sweeps after her, each trying to hold her head the higher of the two.

Ruthven follows them, looking (as men invariably do in such cases) both crest fallen and defeated, and wishing (as men generally do in such cases) that he had never put his foot in it at all. The back drawing-room has been trans formed into a very tolerable-sized stage, with a row of footlights, and a gauze screen in front of it, to give a cloudy and vaporous look to the tableaux. It has two doors for the exit of the performers, — one leading through a conservatory into the hall, and the other into an antechamber, now crowded by the castle party, most of them already arrayed in their theatrical dresses. Sir Bate Coombe, who looks better as ' Cœur de Lion ' than he has ever done in private life, boisterously laments the failure of his ' Huguenot ' costume. ' I say, Ruthven, however can you have made such a mistake ? ' he exclaims, as Lady Swansdown appears with her guests. ' I gave you fifty inches round the chest as plain as possible ; in fact, you wrote it down correctly, for this costume, — and they've sent a Huguenot dress which I can't get into.

Only forty inches round the chest and five foot eleven in height ! — you must have been thinking of some body else.' ' Perhaps I was,' says Ruthven curtly. ' But, hang it all, man, you've spoilt the best thing of the evening ! How can I stand for the " Huguenot" without a pro per costume ? I can't wear it, you know, and there's no means of alterinoit in time.' ' Well, I suppose there are men in the world beside yourself, Coombe. Some body else must portray the " Huguenot." ' Lady Swansdown beckons Mrs Beverley to her side, and saunters with her into the conservatory. ' Hester,' she says, angrily, 'this is not a mistake at all. George has done it on purpose. He wants to play the " Hugue not " with that girl himself.' ' What makes you think so, Minnie ? ' ' Look at this list sent back by the costumier.

Don't you see the measure ments for the " Huguenot " tally exactly with those for " Chastelard " ? Do you believe that was done by accident ? / don't. He intended all along to prevent Sir Bate standing with Miss Rayne, and to take the part himself. I am sure of it.' 'And what if he did?' says her friend, with a view to soothing the countess's ruffled feelings, and preventing her show ing her resentment in public. ' What if he did? Hester, do you want me to slap you ? You know it is only a confirmation of what we have both seen going on for weeks past. You have seen it, though you have denied it to me. George is getting spooney on that girl, or she is getting spooney on him, for which she ought to be ashamed of herself; but girls have no decency, it seems to me, now-a-days.' 'You forget Miss Rayne knows nothing.' ' How can you tell?

He has probably communicated his whole history to her by this time. Men are such idiots directly they fancy themselves in love.' ' Don't run away with an idea, Minnie. It does lead one occasionally into such a scrape. I don't believe there is any foun dation for what you say.' ' I know there is. I caught them in the corridor just now, squeezing each other's hands.' ' Men and women even do that, some times, without being in love. And how ever Miss Rayne may delude herself, it is impossible that Mr Ruthven can have any serious intentions in the matter.' ' She won't delude herself much longer. I shall open her eyes before she is many hours older.' 'Do be cautious, my dear. Indeed, you are not half cautious enough. Remember how people will talk, if you make public fuss about it.' ' George shall not stand with that girl for the Huguenot.' ' What harm if he does ? ' ' He shall not do it ! ' ' How will you prevent him ?' ' By scratching the tableau off the list. ' Then you will probably irritate him into refusing to stand in any other, and you will lose your " Chastelard."

Come, Minnie, be reasonable, and take my advice. Let them play together. Do more — come back to the drawing-room, and be the first to propose that he shall play the " Huguenot." Throw them off their guard, and I will solve the riddle for you.' ' What do you mean ? ' ' I will tell you before you sleep to-night, -whether to whistle George Ruthven to the winds or not. Let him think you see nothing, and you will see everything. I will watch them closely, and something is certain to transpire during this evening's amusement to determine if you are mistaken. For my own part, I do not credit Mr Ruthven with being such a fool.' ' And / begin to think he is fool enough for anything,' replies the countess, as she turns and saunters back towards the stage. But she adopts Mrs Beverley's advice, nevertheless.

Her face, as she rejoins her guests, has regained its normal placidity. ' Well, now, we had better get to work at once, or we shall lose the morning ! ' she exclaims, blithely. ' Sir Bate, I am really sorry for your disappointment and my own (for I shall lose the most magnificent "Huguenot" that ever stood for the part), but I am afraid I must not erase the tableau from my list, or my guests will consider themselves cheated. What other gentleman will volunteer for so good a cause ? Whom will the clothes fit ? they seem about your size, Mr Ruthven. Would you be very obliging and fill the vacancy for us ? I really think you ought, because I cannot divest my mind entirely of the idea that it is through your care lessness we have been brought into this dilemma.' ' I am very sorry if you think I have been careless, Lady Swansdown, and I am ready to do anything in my power to remedy it — that is, if Miss Rayne will permit me,' replies Ruthven, with a bow in the direction of Viola. ' Oh !

I am sure Miss Rayne is too amiable to make any objection,' replies the countess, with ill-concealed sarcasm. ' She would never upset the order of the even ing's amusement, because it may not en tirely tally with her own wishes. She will accept you as her cavalier, Mr Ruthven, if only to oblige me! Viola recognises the sarcasm, but she will not betray it. ' I am at your ladyship's commands,' she answers, gravely. ' I knew you would be ; and I will reward you by making them easy ones. Well, that matter is settled then ; and if you will both be so kind as to go and put on your dresses, we can see if they require any alteration.' The evening assemblage is a large one. The countess has sent out her invitations far and wide, and there is not a family but what is proud and eager to be included amongst the guests of Castle Swansdown.

The dining-room and hall are crowded ; so are the wide staircases and corridors. But half the arrivals can squeeze them selves into the large drawing-room, which forms the auditorium for the tableaux vivants. The first tableau on the programme is that of the ' Huguenot,' and low murmurs of admiration rise from the spectators as the velvet portiere is drawn aside and dis closes the scene. Ruthven looks quite handsome in his old-fashioned costume ; and the beauty of Viola's face is fully dis played as she gazes pathetically in his. The accessories of the picture are religi ously carried out — the back scene repre senting a ruined wall, up which real ivy and other creepers have been carefully twined. Viola wears a green velvet dress, slashed with yellow satin. One hand of Ruthven is round her neck, the other on her head, whilst both hers are clasped about his form, in her endeavour to tie the white scarf on his arm.

The painting is so familiar to everyone present, that the fidelity of its representation is at once acknowledged, and warm plaudits and exclamations of delight cause the curtain to be raised a second time, and even a third time, before the audience are satisfied with the sight. Meanwhile, to the two actors, the situa tion is one of mingled pleasure and pain. Viola's heart has been beating irregularly all the afternoon to the rhythm of the broken melody which Ruthven had com menced to pour into her ears when Lady Swansdown so suddenly appeared to inter rupt him, and wondering when he will take up the ruptured thread, and finish the sweet song. As she assumes her position for the tableau, with his arm around her neck, and his eyes gazing into hers, it seems as if they were not acting, but only carrying out the natural sequence to the afternoon's be ginning.

And to Ruthven also, who has been longing ever since that moment for an opportunity to speak to Viola again, this theatrical embrace appears more like reality than show. They seem so much alone. That scenic wall behind them — no other actors on the stage — and the audience looking like a company of ghosts, behind a couple of gauze screens and a row of footlights. The place, the situation, the close proxi mity, all combine to make him forget him self. Viola's form is in his embrace ; her hands tremble on his arm ; her eyes become misty, and troubled, and dim as they gaze into his own. The curtain falls for the first time, and the applause of the spectators continues until it is raised again. Once more he looks into those troubled eyes, and reads their secret ; whilst the girl's cheeks flush hotly beneath the in tuitive knowledge that he has done so.

As soon as the curtain has descended, she tries to free herself, but Ruthven detains her. ' Don't stir ! You will spoil the tableau. They will have the curtain up again,' and she has to endure the agony of his search ing gaze for the third time. There is no doubt about it now. Never were man and woman subjected to more VOL. II. B trying an ordeal. Again Ruthven and Viola stand and look at one another, and read the truth — their hearts have gone out of their own keeping. She would give worlds to get away from him ; it seems as though she stood there for ages, having her secret wrested from her. Will that curtain never fall again ? Do they mean to keep it so for ever ? At last it closes, and as it does so, shutting them into (as it were) a little world of their own. Ruthven stoops his head, and hurriedly kisses her. ' My darling ! ' he whispers ; ' my own darling ! ' Stupid, meaningless words, repeated by each man in the world to each woman whom he fancies that he loves, never mind whether she be the first, or the twenty first, and yet, ever fresh — ever new — ever thrilling, when falling on the ears that have been waiting for them.

Ruthven may have said them fifty times, but Viola has never heard them on her own account before. They permeate her whole being. they mount to her brain, and turn it dizzy ; they rush to her heart, and set it leaping ; they mingle with the very blood in her veins, and transform her into another woman — the woman whom Ruthven loves. All her doubts and fears are ended now. Her doubts, lest his manner to her meant anything more than friendship ; her fears, lest she had been too quick to interpret that manner into love. The world is a paradise, and there is no heaven better than the one they can make for themselves. But she does not stay to tell Ruthven so, even by a look. With his kiss upon her lips, and his words ringing in her ears, Viola breaks from him, and dashes through the conservatory to her own room.

As she does so, she encounters Mrs Beverley, all smiles. ' A most successful tableau, Miss Rayne, was it not, in every way ? But you must be quite tired after so much — excitement. I should advise you to rest quietly in your Tlie Tableaux Vivants. 20 own room, until you are called for your next scene.' Viola does not need the caution. She has no wish nor intention of seeking Ruth ven's society again until she is compelled to do so. The two other tableaux in which she appears have nothing to do with him, and as soon as the entertainment is over, she flies to her bedroom, and resists all Mrs Garnier's entreaties that she will put on a private dress, and join the dance and supper with which the evening's amusements are concluded.

Chapter II

A REVELATION. T is all over, and in the grey dawn of the morning, the coun tess, pale, jaded and dispirited, meets Mrs Beverley in the upper corridor. ' Well ! ' she ejaculates. ' Well ! ' echoes Mrs Beverley. ' Don't be tiresome, Hester. You know perfectly what I mean. Have you found out anything ? ' ' I shall have plenty to say to you later on, but I will not speak of it now. You look half dead. You are not fit to worry yourself about anything. You must go to bed and rest.' ' Rest! ' says Lady Swansdown bitterly ; ' as if I could rest whilst I am in this sus pense. I insist upon your telling me everything at once. Come into my dressing-room. ' Your maid is there.' ' Then I shall dismiss her, and you will help me off with my dress. If I never get to bed at all, I must hear what you have to say to me.' Mrs Beverley, shrugging her shoulders, follows her noble friend into the dress ing-room, whence the sleepy maid is dismissed at once to her slumbers.

As the door closes on her, the coun tess turns to her confidante, with a face of ashes. ' Tell me the worst,' she says, ' and put me out of my misery.' ' Really, Minnie, you are very weak to take it like this, and when it may be noth ing after all. You have seen the man's allegiance to you wavering for months past, and must be prepared to see him flirt with someone else. He was always a flirt from the beginning.' ' Tell me the worst, I say ! ' ' The worst (as you call it) is only a repetition of what I have often said before. Mr Ruthven is not worth a second thought from you. His so-called friendship is based upon politic motives only, and he will break with you as soon as it suits his convenience to do so.' ' What have you discovered ? For heaven's sake don't go beating about the bush like this!

You will drive me mad.' ' Well, then, he is " trying it on " with Miss Rayne. There is no doubt of that. I watched them throughout the tableau! ' What did he do ? ' ' He was holding her (as it struck me) unnecessarily close to him the whole time, and when the curtain fell he— he — kissed her, and — and — ' 'And — what?' cries the countess, turning suddenly round, and grasping Mrs Beverley by the arm. ' Oh, my poor arm ! How you have pinched it, Minnie! I shall be black and blue to-morrow. Well, I heard him say distinctly to her, " My darling ! — my own darling !" as he did so. And now you can judge how much your friend is worth.' 'How did she take it?' hisses Lady Swansdown between her closed teeth. ' I can't tell you. I don't think she said anything in return. Perhaps it was the first time, you know ; but she passed me as she was going to her bedroom, and I observed nothing unusual in her appear ance.' ' It was not the first time ! ' exclaims the countess ; ' there is a mutual understanding between them.

I was certain of it when I caught them on the landing together. It is shameful! disgraceful! I wonder what General and Mrs Gamier would say to it.' 'You may be sure, Minnie, that the girl knows nothing. Mr Ruthven is the only one to blame.' ' I am not at all sure of it. Girls are as bad as they can be now-a-days ; but she shall not have the excuse of ignorance much longer. I will open her eyes for her.' ' I think it is your duty to do so ; but be careful how you do it.' ' Leave that to me, Hester.' ' Don't make an open scandal, my dear, or it may rebound on your own head. George Ruthven could be very spiteful if he chose. A confidential hint to Miss Rayne (or better still, to General Gamier) given in a maternal way will answer all the purpose, and reflect credit on yourself ' I shall act just as I think fit in the matter.' Mrs Beverley gathers up her belongings preparatory to a start. ' Well, Minnie, I know from experience that when you have once made up your mind on a thing no advice will alter it.

So I must leave you to your own devices, only I hope a night's reflection will make you decide on taking the course which is best for yourself.' The countess does not quite like the tone of Mrs Beverley's remarks. It savours more of contempt than she generally allows to permeate her counsels. So she gives her friend but an apology for a kiss, as she wishes her good-night, and retires to rest, fully resolved to have as ample a revenge on Viola Rayne as is possible, for the defalcation of which she is the apparent cause. Meanwhile the girl cannot sleep for the joy which the day has brought her, yet rises in the morning without sense of fatigue from the excitement which accompanies it. She is quite sure now that Ruthven loves her. She has not been a fool, believing in the product of her own imagination.

It was his heart that spoke to hers through his eyes, and she feels as if she could never know real trouble or pain again. Oh, this first love ! This first grand unwavering belief in the unsullied honour of our fellow creatures ! Has the feeling its equal in this world ? The breakfast lasts an unusual time that morning, for the guests of Castle Swans down make their appearance in single file, and at long intervals. Viola and Ruthven are amongst the first to seat themselves, so is the countess, who, though a little pale, is as serenely beautiful as ever. She rallies Viola on her appearance, and says she thinks that dissipation must agree with her, but she does not address one word to Ruthven, who sits on the opposite side of the table. As soon as the circle is com plete, the conversation naturally turns upon the performances of the night before, with which everyone seems satisfied, except Mrs Andrew Cust. ' I cannot pass an opinion on the sub ject,' she says, in answer to Lady Pat's inquiry if she did not admire the countess and Mr Ruthven as the Queen of Scots and Chastelard. ' I left the room before it came on.

It is terrible enough to know that such things were, but to see them reproduced for the amusement of society is almost blasphem ous. Both Mary of Scots and Chastel ard were characters with whom I could not feel the slightest sympathy.' ' Really ? ' says Lady Pat, with uplifted brows ; ' you cannot mean it, dear Mrs Cust. Why, Chastelard was a most in teresting creature ; divinely handsome, and sang like an angel ! No, that was her other lover, Rizzio ; but really the poor, dear queen had so many, it is quite im possible to remember all they did.' ' You are treating a most reprehensible subject in a spirit of the utmost levity, Lady Pat,' replies the vicar's wife sternly. ' Ah, well, poor dears, I have so many sins to answer for myself, you know, that I can afford to feel lenient towards others.

I am not of the elect, Mrs Cust, like yourself and your amiable partner. But at all events there can be no impropriety in asking what you thought of " Beauty " and Lady Mona in the " Lady of Lyons " scene. Husband and wife, you know, both in the tableau and out of it. Nothing could be more strictly decorous and proper.' ' I did not see that either,' replies Mrs Cust, in her most chilling voice. ' Our innocent little amusements seem to have been lost upon you, Mrs Cust, remarks the countess ; ' since you looked at none of them. What a pity you took the trouble to sit up for supper. You should have retired earlier ; I would have excused you, with pleasure.' ' Thank you, Lady Swansdown ; but I may have had my work to do amongst your thoughtless visitors, even though I did not choose to look at the tableaux! 'Ah, I see!' cries Lady Pat; 'and it gave you an appetite, doubtless ; virtuous actions generally do.

I always find when I go to church, which is very seldom, that I eat twice as much afterwards. I suppose it's a kind of dispensation of Providence.' ' I should imagine that you had very little to do with the dispensations of Pro vidence, Lady Pat,' replies Lady Cust. ' Oh ! now you're going to quarrel, so we had better change the subject,' says the countess blandly. ' Let us talk of some thing else. I have had a letter from Mrs Granville this morning, Mr Ruthven. She is at Nice, and intends remaining there for the winter.' ' Indeed,' says Ruthven, bending over his plate. ' Yes, and she sends me some news concerning your belongings. She was at the Kursaal last week, and there she met your wife! The words — so commonplace, and yet, in this instance, meaning so much, drop from Lady Swansdown's lips in so cold, calm, and incisive a manner, as to be heard distinctly by everyone at the table.