Less astute young women, under the circumstances, would have allowed themselves a week or so of headache or influenza, but Milly did not.She made calls in the new frocks, and with such persistent spirit that she fished forth from the depths of indifferent hospitality two or three excellent invitations.She wore her freshest pink frock, and an amazingly clever little Parisian diamond crescent in her hair, at the huge Monson ball at Delmonico's, and it was recorded that it was on that glittering occasion that her "Uncle James"was first brought upon the scene.He was only mentioned lightly at first.It was to Milly's credit that he was not made too much of.He was casually touched upon as a very rich uncle, who lived in Dakota, and had actually lived there since his youth, letting his few relations know nothing of him.
He had been rather a black sheep as a boy, but Milly's mother had liked him, and, when he had run away from New York, he had told her what he was going to do, and had kissed her when she cried, and had taken her daguerreotype with him.Now he had written, and it turned out that he was enormously rich, and was interested in Milly.From that time Uncle James formed an atmosphere.He did not appear in New York, but Milly spent the next season in London, and the Monsons, being at Hurlingham one day, had her pointed out to them as a new American girl, who was the idol of a millionaire uncle.She was not living in an ultra fashionable quarter, or with ultra fashionable people, but she was, on all occasions, they heard, beautifully dressed and beautifully--if a little heavily--hung with gauds and gems, her rings being said to be quite amazing and suggesting an impassioned lavishness on the part of Uncle James.London, having become inured to American marvels--Milly's bit of it--accepted and enjoyed Uncle James and all the sumptuous attributes of his Dakota.
English people would swallow anything sometimes, Mrs.
Monson commented sagely, and yet sometimes they stared and evidently thought you were lying about the simplest things.
Milly's corner of South Kensington had gulped down the Dakota uncle.Her managing in this way, if there was no uncle, was too clever and amusing.She had left her mother at home to scrimp and save, and by hook or by crook she had contrived to get a number of quite good things to wear.She wore them with such an air of accustomed resource that the jewels might easily--mixed with some relics of her mother's better days--be of the order of the clever little Parisian diamond crescent.It was Milly's never-laid-aside manner which did it.The announcement of her union with Sir Arthur Bowen was received in certain New York circles with little suppressed shrieks of glee.It had been so sharp of her to aim low and to realise so quickly that she could not aim high.
The baronetcy was a recent one, and not unconnected with trade.Sir Arthur was not a rich man, and, had it leaked out, believed in Uncle James.If he did not find him all his fancy painted, Milly was clever enough to keep him quiet.She was, when all was said and done, one of the American women of title, her servants and the tradespeople addressed her as "my lady," and with her capacity for appropriating what was most useful, and her easy assumption of possessing all required, she was a very smart person indeed.She provided herself with an English accent, an English vocabulary, and an English manner, and in certain circles was felt to be most impressive.
At an afternoon function in the country Mrs.Vanderpoel had met Lady Bowen.She had been one of the few kindly ones, who in the past had given an occasional treat to Milly Jones for her girlhood's sake.Lady Bowen, having gathered a small group of hearers, was talking volubly to it, when the nice woman entered, and, catching sight of her, she swept across the room.It would not have been like Milly to fail to see and greet at once the wife of Reuben Vanderpoel.She would count anywhere, even in London sets it was not easy to connect one's self with.She had already discovered that there were almost as many difficulties to be surmounted in London by the wife of an unimportant baronet as there had been to be overcome in New York by a girl without money or place.It was well to have something in the way of information to offer in one's small talk with the lucky ones and Milly knew what subject lay nearest to Mrs.Vanderpoel's heart.
"Miss Vanderpoel has evidently been enjoying her visit to Stornham Court," she said, after her first few sentences.
"I met Mrs.Worthington at the Embassy, and she said she had buried herself in the country.But I think she must have run up to town quietly for shopping.I saw her one day in Piccadilly, and I was almost sure Lady Anstruthers was with her in the carriage--almost sure."Mrs.Vanderpoel's heart quickened its beat.
"You were so young when she married," she said."Idaresay you have forgotten her face."
"Oh, no!" Milly protested effusively."I remember her quite well.She was so pretty and pink and happy-looking, and her hair curled naturally.I used to pray every night that when I grew up I might have hair and a complexion like hers."Mrs.Vanderpoel's kind, maternal face fell.
"And you were not sure you recognised her? Well, Isuppose twelve years does make a difference," her voice dragging a little.
Milly saw that she had made a blunder.The fact was she had not even guessed at Rosy's identity until long after the carriage had passed her.
"Oh, you see," she hesitated, "their carriage was not near me, and I was not expecting to see them.And perhaps she looked a little delicate.I heard she had been rather delicate."She felt she was floundering, and bravely floundered away from the subject.She plunged into talk of Betty and people's anxiety to see her, and the fact that the society columns were already faintly heralding her.She would surely come soon to town.It was too late for the first Drawing-room this year.When did Mrs.Vanderpoel think she would be presented?
