At Lady Molly's by Anthony Powell Read Free Book Online Page B

on her mind. ‘As I say, she knows Lady Molly far better than I do. Mildred nursed at Dogdene during the war.’
    ‘I remember her in nurse’s uniform.’
    ‘She is coming here tonight. She was to have dined, but at the last moment she was unable to be at dinner. She is—more or less engaged to a friend of Lady Molly’s. As I expect you know, Mildred’s husband died about a year ago. Unfortunately a business engagement prevented her—I suppose I should say—fiancé from dining. He is a very busy man. He just could not get away tonight in Ume. Then Mildred herself is always changing her plans. Goodness knows why she herself could not come here without him. However, she couldn’t, so there it was. They are both looking in later.’
    There could be no doubt now that the matter which worried, or at least unusually preoccupied, Mrs. Conyers was connected with her sister’s arrival. I could not at first decide exactly what had upset her.
    ‘This is not the first time you have met him—the fiancé?’
    ‘As a matter of fact, I haven’t seen him yet,’ she said, almost apologetically, as if that was the least I could expect of her. ‘You see, it only happened yesterday. That was why Lady Molly arranged the dinner. She didn’t seem to mind their not turning up in the least. Of course, she is much more used to people changing their arrangements than I am.’
    It seemed probable that she was merely suffering some anxiety regarding the potentialities of the man who was to be her sister’s third husband. I knew enough about the reputation of Mildred Blaides to realise that anxiety was reasonable enough.
    ‘He is a good deal younger than Mildred,’ she said.
    After announcing this fact, Mrs. Conyers decided to abandon the subject, perhaps fearing that in her own overwrought state she might say too much. She gave a sigh.
    ‘If I must talk French,’ she went on, with rather forced gaiety, ‘I do so much prefer not to have to talk the language to a Frenchman. They are so terribly severe. I always tell them that they will never admit that any other Frenchman speaks correct French, so how can they possibly expect me to do so. That young man over there actually complimented me on my French accent.’
    ‘Who is he?’
    ‘From one of the Balkan Legations. I think his father was Minister over here, and used to stop at Dogdene. He was invited about rather more than you might expect because he was an unusually good shot. In the end the poor fellow was shot himself by an anarchist in his own country. The son had news of Prince Theodoric. In fact, I think he has just ceased to be a member of the Prince’s personal household. As you probably know, Theodoric was rather a special friend of the divorced wife of Lady Molly’s brother, Lord Ardglass, who died some years ago. Our hostess always likes to hear about him on that account. Between you and me, I am afraid she is a tiny bit of a gossip, but don’t say I said so.’
    Mrs. Conyers smiled a little slyly.
    ‘Who are the two girls who have just come in and are talking to Chips Lovell?’
    ‘He is the young man you arrived with, isn’t he? The nearest is one of the Tolland girls, Priscilla, I think. She was going to see a film with a former school friend of hers whose name I was not told.’
    Priscilla Tolland looked more than seventeen: even so, she had not entirely lost a long-legged, childish awkwardness in the manner in which she stood with her legs crossed. I could see she bore a strong likeness to the ‘dotty’ Blanche, though certainly free herself from any such disability. The girl with her, prototype of all school friends, was small and dark with horn-rimmed spectacles and an air of bossing everyone about. I thought I would have a word with them in a minute or two; when Mrs. Conyers had finished speaking of the misty past, into which she was now making a deep excursion. However, opportunity to approach the girls never came, because a second later, just as Mrs.