SERIAL STORY

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 316, 16 February 1910, Page 6

SERIAL STORY

| A ROYAL WARD. ! By PERCY BREBNER, i 1 (Publi-hod by Special Arrangement.) I I CHAPTER IX. ■ AT TILE DUCHESS OF PETERSHAMS ! The Duchess of Petcrshaw was a 'power in the social world; the Duke i was merely her husband. There was : no record that the Duke had ever ' opened his mouth in the Hous'e of ' Lords to express an opinion, good, l>ad\, ! or indifferent; whereas the opinion ot 1 the Duchess had become a kind of social law. These opinions were often .somewhat freely expressed, yet few dared to take offence, for to quarrel with her [ would have been little short of social | suicide. It was said that even the I Prince Regent, recognised her authoriI tative position, although in private lie ] eur.-'cd her roundly; and Mr. Brummell I had declared on more than one occasion that he was positively afraid of ' her, although she was the worst dressed | woman of his acquaintance. Possibly ' the Duchess did not think much cither jof the Prince or of Mr. Brummell. It ! was rather a matter of surprise that ! she \v?.s not one of that austere comj mittee of ladies who ruled at Almacks'; ' but she was no less' powerful than they, for a card was never refused to any person she chose to recommend, and the entree to Almacks' was perhaps hardly I so great a social test as the entree to I the Duchess of Petersham's house in i Piccadilly. Mr. Brummell's statement ' that she dressed badlv was rather an -attempt to turn a neat sentence than the truth. If a fashion were hideous or unbecoming to her she refused to have anything to do with it, and on this account she was sometimes' conspicuous, although dispassionate judgment would generally have declared that the Duchess was right.

Although Lady Betty Walmisley had a house in Pall Mall, which opened to receive her and Deborah Cowper when they came to town, it was under the care of the Duchess' of Petersham that she made her bow to the great world of London. With the Duchess she had made an early visit to Windsor, and the girl's charm had seemed to make Queen Charlotte forget her manifold troubles for a little space. Her Majesty was exceedingly gracious, rather to Betty's surprise, for the Duchess had described her as a hard old woman who had no weaknesses herself and didn't expect other people to have any either; but, as Betty sa«. afterwards, surely much might be forgiven when there had •been such grievous tajes to bear. The mad old King she did not see, but they had paused outside a closed door, and had heard the stately tones of Handel's music. "It is better not to disturb him," the Queen said a remark so often reiterated, perhaps, that those constantly about the royal lady failed to recognise that extreme pathos in it which Betty did. This visit to Windsor saddened her, but Betty was young and with much of the careles's appetite for pleasure which is common to youth. The world of life was before her, the doors open, and she passed through them to conquer and occupy that throne which is the indis- j putable right of beautiful womanhood. Her appearance at Carlton House had caused a sensation, the Prince himself had toasted her afterwards; her name was whispered at the clubs, and star k- ! ling wits and poets touched a momentary fame by an epigram concerning her or a sonnet to her eyes. As in the country she had been called the beautiful Lady Betty Walmisley, so it was in town. Wherever she appeared it was the same story. Men were ready to fall at her feet and women forgot to t be envious. [

It is possible that Deborah Cowper really rejoiced at Betty's .success, perhaps hugged to herself the idea that her tuition had laid the foundation for

it and made it possible; but she did not forget to hold up her hands in dismay and thank fortune that she was not responsible for her. The Duchess, on the other hand, was; not only deI lighted with her charge, but was ini dined to take upon herself any amount I of responsibility. They had just reI turned from driving, and were seated | in a small room overlooking Piccadilly, ! the rest of the house being in chaos pro- ] paring for a great reception which the I Duchess was giving that evening, j "You are receiving plenty of worship, I Betty; more than I did when I first ' came out of the country; but because I a man worships you, there is' no reason j why you should 'give him a second thought. Most of them are not worth it." "Not even a little pity?" Betty asked. "The less of that the better," returned j the Duchess. "Pity has led to more I miserable marriages than any other emotion. No, my dear, for Heaven's sake, never pity a man, or he'll conclude at once that' you cannot do without him." "It's over-early to think about marriage, isn't it, Duchess'?" "Most girls begin to do so when they lengthen their frocks." "Besides, in my case, there is the King's consent to be obtained," said Betty. The Duchess waved an impatient hand as though to dismiss' such a consideration into thin air. "Of course, your father couldn't know that the King's madness would he permanent but why he should have died

': leaving you the ward of a lunatic, and 1 mean no disloyalty, because he ean- ! not help it, poor man, passes my com-' I prehension." j "The Prince Begun t said something to me the other night which makes me I think my father must have talked to j him about me," said Betty. j "If your father did that, may Heaven i forgive hiui, for I couldn't. We should j never ask the Prince Regent's consent ■on any 'consideration whatever. I' would rather help you to a coach at I the back gate, -and arrange for a par- ' son to marry you to the first likely I fellow that presented himself.' j "My wealth seems to make a kind of \ Government security of nicy' said , Betty. | "Your wealth will certainly attract all sorts of men who have beggared I themselves at the gaming tables'," said , the Duchess. j "Well, there is time enough ye':." j Betty went on. "The most attentive 1 gentleman at present is a poet, who 1 sent mo some really pretty verses | which, if I believed half they said, would kill me with vanity. I sent him ■ a guinea or two in payment —they were' really worth it—and I dare say he' got ! very merry with his' friends drinking : my health." ""■"' i "How about young Walter Evcrtscn? He spends his time endeavoring to ! tread in v'bur footsteps wherever you [ go-" i "My dear Duchess, he' loves his ' clothes and Mr. Brummell's opinion far too much to be seriously troubled about I any woman," answered Betty. j The Duchess looked for a tell-tale' , blush in the girl's' face, but it was not '< there. | !_ Lady Betty had withstood exceed-' | ingly well the head-turning process so i much talked about by Deborah Cowper. She was too natural a girl not to find I pleasure in the homage paid her, and far too clever foolishly to over-rate its i value. For compliments which were I too obviously insincere she had retorts : that were not innocent of sting, and no man who approached her was allowed to forget the very definite line across' which it would be extremely dangerous ;to -trespass. She had been'gracious to | Walter Evertsen more gracious, per- , haps, than she was quite aware of. , Amongst such a host of new faces the , fact that they had met at Abbots , Chas'e almost placed him in the catei gory of an old friend, and Evertsen was | not the man to let so obvious an ad- | vantage slip. * | Even the Duke of Petersham had a', , compliment for Lady Betty that even- • ing when she entered the great drawing- | room. She looked very beautiful and , rather remarkable, for, like the Duchess, ■ she would have nothing to do with any J fashion that was unbecoming. I She was alone for a moment, when (Evertsen approached. "May I crave your kindness for a ' great friend of mine?" he said. "Mr. Victor Dubuiss'on." j Dubuisson bowed low, and just "for ' one instant Betty did not recognise him ' or remember his name. Then it all came back to her—the moonlit terrace, ; where he had stood with naked sword, and the woods that morning, when she ' had made him saddle and take her ! her horse. She received him graciously, but as a stranger. "Mr. Dubuisson mus't come and talk to me presently," she said. '• "I shall watch anxiously for your sig- ' nal that I may come." he answered, and ; left her to Evertsen. "A new acquaintance?" she asked. ] "A friend of a relation of mine, Sir ' Rupert Ashton. You must know Sir Rupert, for he is a neighbor of yours at '■ Devonshire." j "His name only. I do not think he ever came to Abbots' Chase." She did not mention that the Earl had disliked ! Sir Rupert. :' "Perhaps not, Lady Betty. He is rather an eccentric, one of those men who like the people that nobody else S does." '•Then is Mr. Dubuisson not a favorite, since Sir Rupert is his friend?" ' "Truly, I do not think his wit would , earn him a living, but I like him, and make allowances. He has been buried in some Northern town ever since his birth, s'o one must allow him time to ( get rid of his grave clothes." .*. "He and I should find much in com- ' mon since we are both from the coun- , try." Evertsen laughed ) and pointed to a long mirror wherein her figure was reflected. I "I ask you, Lady Betty, in such a picture is there anything which speaks of the country?" "Tnrloorl T fl.Jr.!- „„. +l,„ „„1 • u..

"Indeed, I think so; the color in the cheeks owes nothing to art," she answered lightly.

Dubuisson had to wait a long thne before Lady Betty s'igned to him. Slw was talking to an old man who looked as if he were boring her, and Dubuisson thought that she might be only using him as a means of escape. "You delay too long in claiming my promise, sir," she said. "This room has grown insufferably hot; cannot you' bring me somewhere so that we may feel a little breeze?" It was' Betty who really led the way, and, knowing the house well, found a .corner where nobody was likely to disturb them. "I find you in strange company, Mr. Dubuisson. It is seldom hunted and hunter go arm in arm." "Your surprise is not greater than mine," said Dubuisson. "f am still endeavoring to understand it. Would it trouble you if I were to tell you how so strange a situation has come to pass?" "I have brought you to this out-of-' the-way corner to hear it. Y T ou hardly

I seem to appreciate how greatly favored you are." "I have already received my life at your hands: other favors seem to sink' into insignificance beside that." "is your life, sir. more important than tile favor of such an interview as this?" laughed Betty. "Well, 1 dare say you are right, but it is ungallant to say so. You have much l.u learn- if you would hold your own with or men of fashion." "Truly in this respect I am masquerading for my own ends." Dubuisson answered. "Still, such professions are often little more than words, and I thought you brought me here to be honest and speak the truth." "I am sufficiently reproved," she answered. "Tell me your story." (To be continued i.i next Saturday's issue.) I ___________