SHORT STORIES.

Otago Witness, Issue 3574, 12 September 1922, Page 65

SHORT STORIES.

[All Rights Reserved.] TIIE CAMOUFLAGE COSTUME.

By

Dorothea Conyers.

(Author of “The Stray in gs of Sandy,” etc.) “I shall not go to the ball.’’ Lady Bettina stamped her foot. “I hate the dress.” Suzet-te the maid folded a foamy looking peignoir with an expression of impatience, and Rose Dacre gasped. It was the night of a huge fancy dress ball in London. Ravolis iiad so many orders that their work roams were littered with scraps of silver tissue and cloth of gold, of mock jewels and fur and berries, and work girls had to be kept up all night to finish the orders. Among the medley of garishness and gorgeousness the costume ordered by Lady Bettina Stornaway had stood apart in its beauty. Lose Dacre had been the model for the fittings. She had stood in the blue powdered with golden fleur de lvs, and dream of what it would feel like to go to the dance. »- Lady Bettina had spoken imperiously over the ’phone, but it was impossible to finish before six o’clock on the evening of the ball. Ravoii himself had come to Rose Dacre. “One cannot trust the messenger boy or ze taxi —Miss Dacre would oblige if site would drive to Grosvenor Square and deliver the dress in person.” A taxi had jerked and glided along the badly kept streets, London had not yet reoovered, and Rose had rung and gone in. ‘The young person from Ravolis. Yes.” Rose had been ushered into a luxurious room, expecting to see Lady Bettina rush forward joyously. And, instead she saw a girl with tragic eyes, lips parting mutinously, who stamped when the blue and gold dress was unpacked. Lady Bettina had chosen the character of Madame D’Amboise in the dress in which, an Arthur Blane, the celebrated beauty entertained the amorous and superstitious Louis of France to supper. Lady Bettina watched the unpacking sombrely. Her temper flashing out at Suzette’s first shrill cry of admiration. “Revissante—chic —le blue de ceil as the eyes of Milady.” “Take the thing away, it’s wrong.” “Oh! Milady! And the papers writ® of the wonderful dress which ’as been whispered of—the character as yet unknown. It is of an exquisiteness. V’la the ticket.” Suzette pinned something on tlie corsage. To which Lady Bettina replied that some people were of a foolishness, and twisted her handkerchief until it tore into shreds. Rose Dacre, watching, thought that there was something below this dislike of the dress. “It’s wrong,” burst out Lady Bettina. “I said I would not have a golden stomacher, I ordered turquoises, and I hate fancy dress. Take it back to Ravoii and say it’s his fault.” Lady Bettina stamped again, as a petulent child does defying his mother, and secretly frightened to death. She looked terrified. Rose shivered. If Ravoli’s lost Lady Bettina’s custom they would blame some one. Rose might be accused of having blundered. “I 11 not face it,” Lady Bettina muttered to herself, her slender bejewelled fingers twisted together. “I can’t —it’s no use.” Her lips trembled again. “Does anvone know of my dress?’’ she asked suddenly. “I do not know Madame, we have all seen and admired it, but we do not discuss the orders.” “Take the thing away, wear it yourself.” she snapped. “Suzet-te has pinned the ticket on I expect. Take it, I say I won’t go and I won’t. Call a taxi Suzette. pay the fare back to Ravoii s —that s enough girl.” Suzette crushed the dress into its royal blue box. Rose going slowly towards the door looked back at the big luxurious room, the glitter of silver and dull beauty of ivory and tortoiseshell on the dressing table,' the big blue eqverleted bed, and a girl crouching down in a lowchair, with her face set in despair and tears welling to her eyes. just as Rose went out a tall, grave eyed man had let- himself in with a latch k’ev and called Suzette. The butler came forward. “What s that. Her Ladyship’s dress. She is not going to the ball.” A door opened upstairs. “And I have onlv a second to get to the station. (let my coat Bates —thank you.” Sir Herbert looked worried, he hesitated. A door slammed emphatically. “Tell her Ladyship—No I shall be back at midnight.” “Tour shilling Mees—that is enough—• the taxi is found.” Ravoli’s would be shut up. Rose told the man to drive to the Oxford Circus Tube Station. She leant back, thinking dismally. What would they say at Ravoli’s when she walked in with her blue box. Miss Knox, the slim, suave forewoman, whose tongue could lash and sting, and stout Ravoii himself, explosive as to temper, they ' would probably dismiss her just as she hoped for a rise in salary. And it would lie due to Lady Bettina’s temper. .Hose's eyes softened. Poor spoilt, frightened beauty, crying in her own room- - AN'hat was behind it? Rose wrinkled her smooth forehead. Lady Bettina had come to Ravoli’s with a man —who was not the grave-eyed Sir Herbert. A weakfaced, good-looking man, whom she called Benny-—Lady Bettina. had muttered the word. They had their tragedies, these great ladies, who would not go to balls when they could.

vfie night was raw. a bitter fog still veiling the lights, a still penetrating cold gripping London. Rose paid the man. Thinly clad, she was glad to get into the bustling warmth of the lighted tube. Her hie box was awkward in the crowd as she held it on her knee. Girl's read the gold emblazoned name—Ravoli’s. “For the dance, ’ one said enviously. “If it wasn't so cold I’d go to see ’em run in. It’ll be one, I tell you.’’ Rose smiled to herself wistfully If only she could go. She toiled up the steep stairs to her bed-sitting room —she liked to live alone and dreaded the publicity of the excellent home for girls in London. She lighted the gas stove, shivering until the heat thawed the chilled air, then put on her cocoa and turned to the box. Suzette had tied it carelessly, the string had come undone, and Rose, deciding with a grim little smile that Ravoli’s humour would not be improved by a tumbled dress laid it on her bed to repack it. She shook it out, glittering gloriously, and something fell from it to the tioor, the five guinea ticket with Lady Bettina Stornaway written on it. Suzette had pinned it to the bodice with a gilt safety pin. Shimmer of blue and gold and froth of real lace. What a dress ! Rose drew a swift breath— Why not “Take it away and wear it girl—the ticket's there.” Why not. Rose searched her purse feverishly. She had money for a taxi if she could find one. She would be masked. Why not take the goods the gods sent and live for once. See the glitter and hear the music and mix unknown with the throng. The duck could swim with the swans and who would know ? The cocoa boiled over. A box of sardines winked vainly as Rose danced across the floor. She had a pair of blue silk shoes —she would go—she would. She piled her fair hair and emptied a box of powder on to it—she picked up the dress. The Is slice hooked in front, busk ing up her slim form, her white arms were Rare, her hair frosty pale—there was a long false curl to pin on to her hair. Rose saw herself in the small glass as fair if not as fat a vision as the Clara D’iche who had been created Comtesse D Amboise, and had bewitched Louis of France. Blue stockings, a fan, and she was ready for fairyland. If the dress was tossed it would not be her fault. Ravoii would no doubt believe that Ladv Bettina had tried it on. Rose scalded her throat with hot cocoa —she pirouetted and danced, humming a rag time. Her heart throbbed. This was life and adventure. She tried on the mask, noting how white her chin looked below the lace. She counted the minutes until she could put on her goloshes and coat and slip out into the fog. It loomed and swizled —the cold intense. Rose groped along, her billowing skirts held close until luck sent her a txai. “Albert Hall—right. The clutch slipped in and Rose put on her blue shoes, she was shivering now with expectation—the taxi fell behind a string of opulent limousines, its metre clicking up tuppences, hut Rose did not count them. Her cab came sliding to the door as a Charles Surface and a slim Winter got out. Ravoli’s had made the Winter costume for a Duchess—Rose knew the head-dress. And she was going in beside the owner. Laughter bubbled in Rose’s throat. She mew a little Lightened in the warmth "of the vestibule—her blanket coat looked shabby and strange as she stood amonc women cloaked in velvet and brocade. 0 Her heart missed a beat as she handed her ticket to the official “Cloakroom on the right my lady, he said respectfully. She saw him eye her coat—the cioalo room was full of nymphs and witches, Di Vernons, Amv Rohsarts, queens and Cmderellas, all preening and powdering, and patting their hair. As Rose slipped off her coat she stood a little proudlv, her billowing magnificence reflected in the long mirror. Someone whispered. Rose put her hand up to see if her mask was secure. She laughed softly. Yet she felt lost as she went down to the dancing room, and was glad to get a seat and watch. After an hour the girl began to get lonolv she had come to Fairyland, hut Hie did not know the Fairies. She wanted to talk to someone. She was thirstv and afraid to go to the buffet, wondering if one paid extra for tea or coffee. “May a king speak to is subject? ’ A smallish man- had spoken to Rose. He wore a brocade long coat plumed hat, red-heeled shoes, orders blazing on his breast, and closely masked. “T am Louis, his most sacred Majesty Louis XTIT of France, and you are?” “Madame D’Amboise, she faltered rising and with a laugh curtseying. Rose was a mimic. She remembered Lady Bettina’s soft voice with its low drawl and impatient intonation. “You are Louis of France? she asked. “Yes, niadame and mv love.” Ho started as she spoke. “And let me get you some coffee —or shall we dance and then go a hunting to Versailles?” Rose took coffee gratefully, nibbled an iced cake and went out to join ti.e glittering dancers. Queens, fairies, witches jazzed incongruously. “Oh, shades of Paris.” he said. “A Indv in the royal fleur de lvs fizzing, and doing it well. Look .at Oueen Elizabeth doing the Hesitation and Ladv .T.ane Grev the roll. And you- I almost thought ” | he stopped abruptly. j Pose was really enjoying herself now. ! klie loved dancing, her breath came i quickly and her heart throbbed in sheer joy of life. As they left, the dancing hall someone jostled against her, spilling .an ice on her dress. Rose cried out piteously. “Oh. it’s marked, it’s spoilt. What shall I do?”

“But it’s only a tiny mark,” he scrubbed at it with his lace-edged pocket handkerchief. “Why, milady, you’re trembling.” He took her, then, for Lady Bettina. “Yet that tiny mark will convict the criminal,” she faltered. “See the blue is stained. Oh, dear! Life costs ” She stood, the glittering stuff raised in her hands, which were gloveless and bare of rings. What could she say to Ravoli? He would make her pay week by week, the rise of salary would never come now. “But what can it matter—to you?” he said, puzzled. Then he stared hard at her masked face. “Wedding ring off—masked and nervy. Ts it worth all this ? Straight paths are dull, but they lead to quiet old ages. All the little sheltered walks don't, ray dear. Give the man up, he’s not worth it—milady.” “I am Madame D’Amboise, Sire,” said Rose, recovering herself. “My name is Clara.” “Pardon—kings are privileged—l merely tendered advice.” Rose shook her fair head. She was out in fairyland, but someone of her own world waited for her,and she was quite loyal to him. When they had saved a little they would marry and take the inevitable tiny flat filled up with shoddy furniture, and she would live the dull life of the London girl married. Planning food, waiting for Jack, little outings, then children and struggles,, but she was ready for it all. She loved her young clerk. “No,” she said softly “Never again. I vanish at twelve.” “Ah, will you. You’ll sup with me, meeting me here. And don’t think the mask hides the voice, even if you do change it now and again. So take Louis of Prance's good advice. Here in an hour —milady. Rose rustled away to an alcove, taking coffee with her. She sat down on a low chair. A dance was going on, and the cosy nooks were vacant. She was eating and dreaming when a Mepliisto, his red tights outlining scraggy limbs, came in swiftly. “So you came,” he snarled. “And your maid when I ’phoned said you would not. But I knew the dress. Capricious, are you? Well, have you got the money. Hev?” So there was a reason for Lady Bettina’s fright. 1 Rose sat up. her slender arms milk white on her blue lap—she meant to see it through—she was thrilled. “Have I- ” she drawled. “I don’t know. How much was it ?” Mepliisto muttered “Cool” through his beard. “Not- frightened now.” he sneered. “You’ve got it then? Five thou, for the letters, and dirt cheap at that. Oh, don’t tell me again they’re only foolish. If I show them to Sir Herbert—his lordship’s letters, I think we’ll see.” Rose grew rigid. Sir Herbert was Lady Bettina’s husband. She recalled the stormtossed little figure huddling down into its chair with eyes brimful of fear and tragedy. A broken little butterfly who had perhaps repented and found out her husband's worth too late. So Bettina had been afraid to come to the ball, and this was the reason why. Blackmail. “If I go to Sir Herbert,” Rose drew back, Mephisto’s breath was on her shoulder—“what would he give me?” “Kicks,” drawled Rose haughtily. “And no money, devil I fear.” Mephisto said “Hah” and snarled again. It seemed a habit of his. “Why be so vindictive?” she said. “Why dog me? You’re, afraid to ask—his —Lordship ’’ she drew a bow at a venture. “He’d rather like the publicity. You won’t. Yet if you don’t pay. as I owe mv Lord a grudge. I’ll see your name dragged through the dirt, Lady Bettina.” “Oh dear,’’ said Rose. Her hands had never shaken, they still lay lily white against the blue and gold, but she thought of Ladv Bettina in her place. Frightened, without the money to pay, shivering, desperate. Woman had appealed to woman in that last look. Rose's wits grew sharp. “It’s a great deal of money,” she faltered. ”1 only have an allowance.” “Those rubies are worth half of it,” the man’s ungloved hand touched Rose’s arm. Now Rose wore a bracelet which she had wasted two pounds on at the Glitter Diamond Company, but it winked redly in the shaded light. “If I gave it to you,’ she whispered tremulously, “would you give me the leters and trust me for the balance?” “Half the letters,” he sneered —“or—yes —a signed promise of another three thousand—and you take them all.” He pulled out a package. There was cold devilry in his voice. Rose summed him as someone's valet or secretary, who had stolen these letters. She unclasped the bracelet and laid it on the table. Oh, poor little Bettina—if this man held her signature ! “Three thousand—oh—it’s”—she made her voice break—“get me a pen and paper. If I must —and let me count the letters. I ” “You doubt me,” he sneered. Rose was enjoying it all. Site paused to picture herself playing for a film. Every woman is at heart an actress, but Rose had never realised her gift. S!he unclasped the bracelet—above all things she wanted to save Lady Bettina. She thought rapidly. “Give me a pencil and paper,” she jerked out frantically, “I’ll sign, but— I am mad to do so.” Mephistopheles had to grope for his fountain pen and note book; the letters lay on the edge of the small table, the bracelet gleaming richly in the centre. Crash ! Rose pushed the table over and her quick fingers caught the letters; she had seen an electric switch close to her and she clicked it off. Mephisto clutched and cursed. Next moment someone in blue and gold flew out of the dimness. A dance was going on —she slipped into the throng and through them into another sitting-out place, where she sat down and pushed the packet down inside her tight

so. Yes, this was life. She had beaten Mephisto. Peeping out, she saw Mephisto surge by. the bracelet dangling from bis finger and thumb. “So Betts —I’ve found you —you came— Oh, my dear.” This time is was a Pierrot, floured and grotesque, who ran in and stood before her, his attitude one of worship. He caught her bare hand. “Oh, you dear old sport—you came. So it’s to be all right again, and you won t cast your Benny.” Now Rose felt that she disliked the Pierrot and his hard, flippant- voice almost as much as the snarling blackmailer. She sensed his shallow selfishness. He sat down beside her. “Betts —you’ve got no rings on Betts, we’ll get those silly letters—and—write no more —words are enough. And, I say, that dress is topping. I knew it at once—saw your blue and gold ana followed. 1 guessed vou’d come.” He sat close to her—very close. “Oh, good evening, Bettina. I understood that you were not coming here —but when 1 got home and found you away, I took the liberty of seeing for myself. It was unwise to tell me what you were to wear, my dear. Blue and the lues of France are conspicuous. So this is why you would not come with me. Sir { ‘i" bert Stornaway's voice was tense and s-ad, but without mercy in it. “This is jour given word,- your keeping of faith. No, Ben, even flour and a sack don t disguise vou. Oh, you*make me tired Bettina. " The Pierrot grunted uneasily. Rose put her hand up where the package of letters pressed against her soft skin. She- knew now what the shrinking girl had been afraid of —exposure and disgrace. 1 oor litt-le fool, who had perhaps iound out a man’s worth too late. Oh, it was life. A film of flesh and blood. Rose did not speak. Silence was her weapon. . . . She let her hands drop, sitting in the attitude which she had taken when interviewing Mephisto. , . , “You sent off your dress and follow eo it. Dust stings but does not blind. It’s —done with now —our life.” Rose was quick to catch the note of hopeless .baffled love; or, poor silly Bettina. She could not pay and leaieti. Rose pieced it all together. And Mepnisto owed this Lord Ben a grudge, and would have paid his debt in full. A host of women crowding into a court, publicity, disgrace —all for the Pierrot hunched limply in his chair, his hands plucking at his grotesque dress. “Herbert, by gad—this is a dance, gulped Pierrot. Absurd . Othello stunt, gone out y’know.” Rose let" her laughter loose. “There, she’s got hysterics, ’ said Lord Ben. “Is it feathers "or ice—what. You chuck it Herbert, old bean. “Oh, I don’t know what you re talking about,” stormed Rose, jumping up. You are "very rude. Dresses —why may I not have a dress of blue and gold? She untied her mask. Sir Herbert actually reeled as he looked into a sweet half-frightened face, most certainly not his wife’s. - <IT “1—I —I'm blest,” he said heavily. 1 —er —l er ” “Yes you did err. Apologise, said Ben, his voice shaking. . , “Play up,” he whispered to Rose. ' bay you know me for God’s sake.” “Lord—ah—um—Benjie brought me here,” said Rose, “for an ice. Go and get it Ben, please. Vanilla,” PieiTot- shuffled out vaguely with a puzzled air. “And you.” Rose looked at- tall Sir Herbert. " “I don’t know who you—take me for, and you are very cross, or is it a game?” . “It is almost beginning to be one, he said quietly. “A "good game for me. I took vou for my wife, madame.” At this point 'Mephisto leaped into the alcove, and he also reeled, standing slackmouthed, his lean limbs sagging. “There is the man who stole my bracelet,” said Rose. “Snatched it off a table,” the mock bracelet still dangled in Mephisto’s limp hand. “It’s paste,” said Rose, ‘but worth two pounds.” “You give me my letters,” yelped Mephisto." “You ”"he caught Sir Herbert's eye and swallowed a word—“you cheat-.” “Letters?” said Rose fanning herself. “Someone else seems to have, mistaken you.” Herbert grew tense. Rose's simile ceased ; this was fresh danger. “The letters! Show them to HIM.” snarled the Devil dramatically. “Some business letters you stole from Lord Ben,” said Rose loudly. She saw' Pierrot at- the door. Pierrot’s reappearance was dramatic. For he threw the ice, the chill lump striking the Devil’s chin and followed it with a roar of rage. “Walters —you sneak,” he said. Red and ’white gripped and spun — Pierrot's loose calico fluttering, Mephisto’s tights quivering. “I’ll kill you—l’ll—you robber.” The Devil broke clear and fled, leaving a- horn in Ben’s hand—Pierrot wiped his hot face. “More man than I took you for, Ben,'’ said Herbert. “And I think I have a right to see those letters.” Rose got up yawning. “Why should you see my letters,” she said. “You presume. My bracelet also, thank you. Who am I?” She mocked Sir Herbert. “A Lady of France M’sieu. And you> —’’ she wheeled on Sir Herbert “go home t-o your wife and don’t tell her how you insulted me.’’ Pierrot collapsed. Sir Herbert followed Madame D’Amboise. “I have an idea,” he said, “that I don't know everything.” “Who does,” she mocked, and slipped a-way to King Louis. Rose’s evening was over after supper. She had to go home, minus some badly needed money and plus a stain on the hundred guinea gown—but she did not

care. It had been worth it. Let Ravoli rage—she would go on the stage. At nine next morning, box In hand, Rose was at Grosvenor Square. She must see her Ladyship—it was urgent. Lady Bettina, wdiite and wan, was in bed, traces of tears on her face. She looked up. “What is it girl !” she said petulantly. “I will not be worried by explanations from jttavoli. He niadfe a mistake, he muist keep the dress.” Suzette hovered. “I wish t-o speak to you, alone,” said Rose quietly. “My name is Rose Dacre. ’ “Leave us Suzette—well what do you want. ‘ ’ Rose looked at Bettina’s w'eary,. miserable lace, then she took out the package of letters and laid them on the bed. “Read those, count them,” said Rose, “and then, the fire is alight, I’ll put them there for you.’’ Then Bettina shrieked. She clutched at the bundle of letter's. “What does it mean!’’ she cried. “How did you get them?’’ She sprang out of bed, thrusting the packet into the heart of the fire, shuddering as they flamed and blackened and words stood out. “Fool,” she muttered. “But tell me what does it mean?” Rose told her story of her longing to wear the dress, how she had gone to the ball and been mistaken for Lady Bettina. “Herbert went there. Oh, Rose,” caste was forgotten, they were merely two women, one afraid and in trouble. “Oh, girl, I was desperate. That man, Walters, got hold of those letters and threatened me. He demanded a huge sum and 1 had not a penny. I told Benny but he could not help me, rather laughed at it all. And I—love my husband, when 1 saw the trap which i had made for myself I knew what his loss would mean. 1 only—fooled—to make him jealous— I —” Bettina sobbed, “I’m trusting you. Herbert would have divorced me if he had seen these. I was so hopeless waiting here last night-, longing for Herbert to come up to me. Afraid to face the blackmailer at the dance. God sent vou to me— ’’ The two girls clung together. “I’ll pay for the dress and you can keep it. Are you engaged. Yes. Then I’ll buy your trousseau.” “No little lady,” Rose shook her head. “Ships have passed in the night that ,s all, and one has rescued a fellow creature. Remember that I spoke to Sir Herbert last night. He must not hear my voice again. Lie bravely, it is worth it. You know nothing. You gave me the dress, in a fit of rage. And you do not know what 1 did with it. I c-am-e back to-day and you confirm the gift. I shall leave Ravoli’s in a week.” “Then I must help,” said Bettina. ‘Yes, you are right. And my pennies were metaphorical. I have an allowance, but could not have paid Walters the big sum which he wanted.” She tool; some notes from a little band bag. Please take them,” she said tremulously. “And leave me your address. I cannot realise that my fears are over.” .Suzette knocked. “Sir Herbert asks for Miladi.” “Send him up,” / said Lady Bettina happily. Rose was once more the shop girl, quiet and deferential. “1 shall give the message. Milady,” she said. “Good morning. Milady, and goodbye,” she whispered. Rose passed isir Herbert Dacre on the stairs. He was running up, love, tenderness, repentance, in his eyes. aiy lady will c-ry a little and lie a great deal thought Rose. Probably abuse me, but she, poor butterfly, has bad her lesson, and I am plus a gown and minus a situation. Suzette came scurrying like a mouse. The maid begged for an explanation. “Ravoli’s sent me with a- message,” said Rose. “Bonjour, Suzette.’’ “Suzette! La Impertinence,” said Suzette, “An lies. I shall yet find out.” Rose apologised meekly at Ravoli’s. She would give notice later in the dav. She listened as the girls talked of the great Ball. “It was lovely, I went there in bine and silver,’’ said Rose. “I saw the dresses, the rose garden, the No Tram per, the nymph, who was all nymph and no frock. ” No one believed her. but she married in a few weeks, and sometimes thought that it was a dream. But a year later she sent a tiny pin-cushion, a doll dressed in blue and gold brocade to Lady Bettina’s baby son, smiling tenderly as she sent it off.