CHAPTER XC

CARDS FOR A BALL

WHAT a commotion it caused in the country when the great ducal cards with butter-pat-like seals permeated through the post office. How, when it transpired, as most things do transpire, that they were coming, the doubtful ones chucked up their chins, and pretended they would not go if invited; how the sure not to be invited said there was no fear of their being asked; and how the sure ones speculated upon whether Mrs. So-and-So would be there.

It spoils some people’s pleasure to find others at parties who they think would be better away. The exclusiveness of the thing is half the enjoyment to many. If the Duchess had submitted her list to the revision of the country at large it would have been extremely select at the end of the operation—reduced to something like a fox and goose board at the end of a game. Her Grace’s boudoir would have held the party.

Now there was a great to-do in all the country houses, Mr. Cucumber having told a dozen people—all in strict confidence, of course—who in their turns told a dozen more, till there was not a milliner’s girl or a seamstress in the district who did not know what was going to happen. Indeed it is these poor creatures who are mainly interested in such events, for their services are all wanted by everybody at once, and there is little rest for them until the ball is over. But we have not got to their miseries yet, the spasms and convulsions of the country having yet to be undergone. Let us endeavour to describe them.

Mrs. Chatterley, who was what the Duke would call an “ambitious woman,” said in reply to the expression of a doubt on the part of Miss Mary, that “Of course they would be asked. How was a ball to be made up if it wasn’t from people like themselves, the court set?” And she opened the letter-bag at breakfast the next morning with as much confidence of finding a card as a fisherman puts his hand into the landing-net, who has seen his trout flickering in it the minute before. What ho! no card!

The Times, three tradesmen’s bills, and a wine merchant’s circular. Mrs. Chatterley said nothing, showed no symptom of disappointment, nor did the young ladies, but all had their unpleasant misgivings. Mr. Chatterley chuckled to think he would escape the terrible balloon-like ball dresses.

Next day was the same, no card, but an increased supply of Christmas medicine. Still there was no public demonstration, though the young ladies confided their worst fears to each other in private. On the third morning, however, it being known that the Netherwoods and others had received their invitations, Mrs. Chatterley on emptying the bag carefully, observed that the Castle ball must be a tradesmen’s one as they had not sent them cards. And this view, being adopted by the ladies, and endorsed by Mr. Chatterley, who observed it was most likely a new way the Duke had adopted for paying his old Christmas bills, the ladies ordered the barouche, and went driving about, tossing up their heads, when asked if they were going, as if they were many cuts above such an assembly.

The Bowderoukinses, on the other hand, were delighted when they got their card—a large glazed paste-board with the Duke and Duchess of Tergiversation requesting the honour of Mr. and Mrs. Bowderoukins’s company to a ball and supper! Well, wonders would never cease! They had always gone upon the “’umble tack,” talking of the Tergiversations as people many cuts above them. Now places were changed, and the Duke and Duchess absolutely considered it honour to be visited by them. At least they said so, and that too in print, which everybody believes.

“What have you got there, Mistress Bowderoukins?” demanded our fat friend, as he saw his delighted spouse coming grinning along from the larder at post time with the important document in her hand.

“Guess!” exclaimed Mrs. Bowderoukins, putting it behind her.

“Letter from the Lord Chamberlain, perhaps?” suggested Mr. Bowderoukins, ironically, well knowing what it was.

“No! guess again!” replied Mrs. Bowderoukins.

“Well, perhaps Mr. Sugars, the grocer’s bill,” said he, thinking to humour the delusion.

“No!” exclaimed Mrs. Bowderoukins, unable any longer to restrain herself, “card from the Duke and Duchess of Tergiversation!” putting it full before him.

“Only think!” ejaculated Bowderoukins.

“Only think!” responded his ecstatic spouse; “what will Mrs. Tom Tucker say?”

“Death of her,” replied Mr. Bowderoukins, rubbing his fat hands.

“What shall I put on, Mr. Bowderoukins?” now demanded his smiling wife.

“Put on, my dear,” replied Bowderoukins, well knowing what that question would lead up to—“put on, my dear?—There’s your cinnamon coloured satin, or your striped—what de call it?”

“Oh, Mr. Bowderoukins, the striped is a morning dress.”

“Well, then, there is your fine green genoa velvet— give it a turn.”

“Oh, Mr. Bowderoukins, I have worn it till everybody is tired of seeing me in it. It is the dress that that odious Mrs. Cambo called me the Emerald Isle in. I’m sure you wouldn’t wish me to go a figure the first time, Mr. Bowderoukins.”

“Certainly not, my dear,” replied Mr. Bowderoukins, “certainly not, my dear; but you must not cut the Duchess out in her own house, you know.”

“Not much fear of that,” replied Mrs. Bowderoukins; “but I really think I should have a new dress on this occasion, dear Bowderoukins. Don’t you think I should, Bowderoukins?”

“Well, my dear, I don’t know, I’m sure, my dear. You are the best judge, my dear—only it’s candle-light, my dear—things look very well by candle-light that look only middling by daylight, my dear; my black shorts are not very good when you come to examine them by daylight.”

“Oh, Mr. Bowderoukins, you don’t understand these things—gentlemen never do. You know, I must have a new dress, sooner or later, Mr. Bowderoukins; so why not have it now when it will be a credit to wear it?”

“Well, my dear, you know best,” replied Mr. Bowderoukins, shuffling away with his newspaper, seeing it was of no use contending with a lady who has made up her mind. And the same post that conveyed their answer to the Castle, carried a letter to Madame Gigot, in Geranium Crescent, for a new ball dress of the most fashionable order, to be down without fail in three days.

Mr. Jovey Jessop’s and his Jug’s cards were sent in the same envelope, the Duchess having heard of the Jug’s frequent peregrinations to Privett Grove, and relying upon the ladies smartening him up. It was not that her Grace objected so much to the Jug’s nankeens as to his not having them clean, the Jug having been chucked out of his buggy on a former occasion and alighting on his knees, had gone about all the evening with two great mud stains, looking for all the world like a mole-catcher without his traps.

Sivin-and-four of course had a card, including Mrs. Sivin-and-four and our esteemed young friend Jasper. “Sivin and four’s elivin and sivin’s eighteen, that card’s from the castle,” said he, as he saw it lying conspicuously on the drawing-room table, “and sivin’s twenty-five, wish I mayn’t have to pay for the party;” so saying he trudged down stairs into the Bank to have a look at the ledger.

“Sivin and four’s elivin, and sivinty-sivin’s eighty-eight, just as I thought,” said he, surveying the deficiency creeping on again. Wish he would pay up instead of keeping one out of one’s bed at night, incurrin’ no end of expense of conveyance, and gloves, and nobody knows what. Really think I’ll say no, and write a line drawing his ’tention to his account, for unless one’s always at him he thinks he has nothin to do but draw, and the money will be forthcoming—just as if one had a well to draw it out of. When, however, answering time came, Mrs. Goldspink accepted in the names of all three, and begged the banker to keep his account for a more favourable opportunity.

Words cannot depict Mrs. Black White’s astonishment at receiving a card, and that not a supplementary one, but sent in the first issue. Mrs. Brown White had always twitted Mrs. Black White with not being castle company, and now she was suddenly elevated into equality with herself. She could not resist walking over to Belladonna Cottage to see her; but Mrs. Brown White suspecting the object of her errand, took the wind out of her sails, by saying she supposed she would have got a card for the great to-do at the castle, adding, with a yawn, as if she was out every night in her life, that she didn’t know that Brown and she would be going, they had been so often that they were about tired of the thing. Still she would advise Mrs. Black to go, as she had never been there, and the castle was worth seeing, especially under such favourable circumstances, and altogether she patronised her not a little. So Mrs. Black White did not take much by her mission. However, what with those that were asked, and those that were not asked, and those that thought they ought to be asked, and those who would not have gone if they had been asked, there was a pretty commotion engendered throughout the country; and fashion books, and pattern books, were in great demand among the fair, and many were the orders for dresses, all of course wanted immediately.