_ PART I CHAPTER XII. THE BIRTHDAY PARTY
"At last!" said Chris.
It was her birthday party, and she stood at the head of the stairs by her aunt's side, receiving her guests.
Very young she looked, a child still, despite her twenty-one years, and supremely happy. Her aunt, one of those ladies whose very smile is in itself an act of condescension, was treating her with unusual graciousness that night, and there was not a star awry in Chris's firmament.
She had just caught a glimpse of her _fiance_ in the crowd below her, and a hasty second glance had shown her that he was not unaccompanied. A slight man, olive-skinned, with a very small, black moustache and quick eyes that searched upwards restlessly, was ascending the stairs with him. In the instant that she looked those eyes found her, and flashed their quick recognition.
Chris waved her fan in eager greeting. "Ah, there he is!" she cried aloud.
"My dear child!" said Aunt Philippa.
Impetuously Chris turned to her. "He is a friend of mine, and Trevor's secretary. I told Trevor to bring him. He is French, and his name is Bertrand."
Her cheeks were flushed with excitement as she made this hasty explanation. She had purposely left it till a crowded moment, for Aunt Philippa was apt to be very searching in her inquiries, and Chris shrank at all times from being catechized by this somewhat formidable relative of hers.
"Trevor knows all about him; they are friends," she added, in response to a slight drawing of the brows, with which she was tragically well acquainted.
"All?" murmured Max in her ear from her other side, with a mischievous twinkle in his green eyes.
Chris ignored him, but she turned a vivid crimson, and the hand she stretched to Mordaunt was quivering with agitation. But in his quiet grasp it became still. She looked up into his eyes and smiled a welcome with recovered self-possession.
"Oh, Trevor, here you are! And you've brought Bertie as you promised." She gave her other hand to Bertrand with the words, but she did not speak to him--she went on talking to her _fiance_. "I've had a tremendous day, and thank you a million times for--you know what. It's a good thing you booked your dances beforehand, for I haven't any left."
"Not one for me?" murmured Bertrand, as he bent over her hand.
She turned to him with a radiant smile. "Yes, yes, of course! Should I be likely to forget all old pal like you? Trevor, will you introduce him to Aunt Philippa?"
"My friend Mr. Bertrand," said Mordaunt promptly.
Mrs. Forest acknowledged the introduction with extreme chilliness. She strongly disapproved of Chris's faculty for developing unexpected friendships. The child was so regrettably free-and-easy in all her ways. Of course, if Trevor Mordaunt approved of their intimacy, and apparently he did, there was nothing to be said, but she herself could not regard it with favour. Once more she congratulated herself that her responsibilities where Chris was concerned were nearly at an end.
But if her greeting were cold, Bertrand scarcely had time to remark it, for his attention was instantly diverted by the red-haired youth who lounged behind her. Max, whose presence had been annoying his aunt all day, thrust out a welcoming hand to the new-comer.
"Hullo!" he said. "You, is it?"
Bertrand raised his brows. He gave his hand, after an instant's hesitation, with a non-committing, "Myself--yes."
Max drew him aside out of the crowd. "It's all right. I'm Chris's brother, and I shan't give you away. But how long do you expect to remain incog., I wonder? I knew your face the moment I saw you on the stairs."
"You know me?" said Bertrand, drawing back a little.
"Of course I know you. Who could help it? Your face is one of the best known in Europe. So you are the hero that Chris used to worship at Valpre! She mentioned the one fact to me, but not the other. She knows, I suppose?"
"Ah, yes, but it is a secret." Bertrand spoke wearily, as if reluctant to discuss the matter. "It is not my desire to be recognized. She knows that also."
"I never knew Chris could keep a secret before," commented Max.
A quick gleam shot up in the Frenchman's eyes. "Then you do not know her very well," he said.
Max smiled shrewdly, but did not contest the point. He seldom argued, and Chris herself at this moment intervened.
"Bertie, I've saved the supper extras for you. Don't forget. Max, you know most of the people here. Do introduce him, or find Jack--he will. I'm dancing the first with Trevor. Good-bye!"
She flashed her smile upon him, and was gone. Bertrand stood and watched her as she went away through the throng with Trevor Mordaunt. Everyone watched her, and nearly everyone smiled. She was so naively, so sublimely happy.
Her gay young laugh rang out as they began to dance. "Isn't it fun?" she said; and then, with her eyes turned to his, "Trevor, I've such a crowd of things to thank you for that I don't know where to begin."
"Then, my dear child, don't begin!" he said, with his indulgent smile.
She frowned at him. "You are not to call me 'child' any longer. I'm grown-up."
His smile remained. "Since when?" he said.
"That's a rude question which I am not going to answer. But, Trevor, you--you shouldn't have sent me all that money. It's much more than I want."
"I'm glad to hear it," he said; and, after a moment, "I hope you will spend it profitably."
"Oh, yes." Eagerly she made reply. "I've bought a new collar for Cinders--such a beauty, with bells! I thought it would be so useful if he went rabbiting."
"What! To warn the rabbits?"
"Oh, no! I never thought of that! Poor Cinders! It would spoil his sport, wouldn't it? And he's such a sportsman. I suppose I shall have to keep it for Sundays after all. What a pity! I thought it would help us to find him if he got lost."
"But he always turns up again," said Mordaunt consolingly.
Her blue eyes flashed their sunshine. "Yes, yes, of course. And another thing I did which ought to please you very much."
The indulgence turned to approval on Mordaunt's face. "I can guess what that was," he said.
"Can you?" Chris looked delighted. "Well, you mustn't tell Aunt Philippa, because she would call it shocking extravagance, and I really only did it to please you."
"Oh! Then I am afraid I haven't guessed right." Mordaunt's expression became one of grave doubt.
Chris laughed aloud. "You will have to guess again. No, please go on dancing. One only gets hotter standing still."
"But, Chris," he said, "I want to know."
His tone was perfectly kind, as gentle as it always was when he addressed her, and yet the quick glance that she threw him was not without a hint of misgiving. The slender young body stiffened ever so slightly against his arm.
"I wonder if Bertie has found a partner," she said. "Do you think we ought to go and see?"
He guided her towards the entrance. A good many people were standing about, and one after another accosted Chris. She answered blithely enough, her hand still upon her _fiance's_ arm, but yet there was that about her that made him aware that she was not wholly at her ease. When he drew her towards a room beyond that led to a conservatory, she hung back.
"I want to find Bertie. Where is he?"
Jack Forest appeared at that moment, and she turned to him with evident relief. "Oh, Jack, where is Mr. Bertrand? I told Max to hand him over to you. He knows no one, and I do want him to have a good time."
"Be easy, my child," said Jack, with a cheery grin. "He is having the time of his life. The mater has taken him under her wing."
"Jack!" Chris stood aghast.
"Don't agitate yourself," said Jack. "It's all serene. He is thoroughly enjoying himself. Where are you two off to? Going to sit out in the dark? Shall I come and mount guard?"
"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" protested Chris. "Jack, remember our dance is the next."
Jack bowed with his hand on his heart. "I don't forget such things. Make the most of your time, Trevor. It's nearly up."
He departed with a careless swagger, and Chris turned to her quiet companion and gave a little shiver. "Why did we leave off dancing? I'm cold."
He led her across the hall to a settee. Someone had thrown a scarf upon it. He put it round her shoulders.
"It isn't mine," she said, "and it isn't that sort of cold either. I hope Aunt Philippa isn't teasing Bertie. Do you think she is?"
"I think he can take care of himself," Mordaunt said.
"Do you? I don't. Aunt Philippa is sure to say horrid things to him. I think we ought to go and find them--really."
There was a note of pleading in her voice, but Mordaunt did not respond to it. He sat and contemplated her, as if his thoughts were elsewhere.
He leaned forward at last and spoke very quietly. "Chris," he said, "forgive me for asking, but--you have paid your debts?"
The colour surged up all over her fair face. She began to pluck restlessly at her fan. But she said no word. Only as he took it gravely from her, she glanced up as though compelled, and for a single instant sheer panic looked at him out of her eyes.
"My dear," he said, "will you attend to the matter to-morrow?"
But still she was silent, quiveringly, piteously silent. The colour had gone out of her face now; she was as white as the dress she wore.
"You will?" he said gently.
She made a little sound that was like a repressed sob, and put her hand sharply to her throat.
"You will?" he said again.
"Yes," she whispered.
He dismissed the matter instantly, opened the fan he had taken from her, and began to admire it.
"Jack gave it to me," she said. "It's a birthday present. He always gives me nice things. So do you, Trevor. Your pendant is the loveliest thing I have ever seen."
He had sent her a pendant of turquoise and pearl, and it hung upon her neck at the moment. She fingered it lovingly.
"I shall go to bed in it," she said, "so as to have it all night long. It feels so delicious. I wish I could see it. It was the very thing I saw in Bond Street a few weeks ago, and wanted to wear at Hilda's wedding." She broke off with a sudden sigh. "It will be horrid when Hilda's married."
"Will it?" he said.
"Yes, horrid," she repeated with vehemence. "Aunt Philippa is going to turn all her attention to me then. Of course, I know she is very kind, but--well, I feel as if this is my last week of freedom. I shall be almost glad when--" She broke off abruptly. "Do let us go and rescue Bertie," she said, "before we get swallowed up in the crowd."
He got up at once and silently offered his arm. She slipped her hand within it, and gave it a little squeeze.
"We'll dance to the _finale_ next time," she said lightly. "It's much more fun than talking."
She added carelessly, as they moved away together: "By the way, I had my photograph taken this morning. I don't know if you will like it. Shall I send you one?"
"Do," he said. And after a moment, smiling faintly: "Was that the thing that was to please me?"
She nodded, not looking at him.
He laid his hand for an instant upon hers. "Thank you, Chris," he said.
She turned instantly and smiled upon him. "You can give it to Bertie if you don't like it," she made blithe response. _