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Page 27
They waved their hands gaily at Lady Caroline, who seemed
absorbed in what she saw and took no notice, and turning away found the
maidservant of the night before had come up silently behind them in
cloth slippers with string soles.
She was Francesca, the elderly parlour-maid, who had been with
the owner, he had said, for years, and whose presence made inventories
unnecessary; and after wishing them good-morning and hoping they had
slept well, she told them breakfast was ready in the dining-room on the
floor below, and if they would follow her she would lead.
They did not understand a single word of the very many in which
Francesca succeeded in clothing this simple information, but they
followed her, for it at least was clear that they were to follow, and
going down the stairs, and along the broad hall like the one above
except for glass doors at the end instead of a window opening into the
garden, they were shown into the dining-room; where, sitting at the
head of the table having her breakfast, was Mrs. Fisher.
This time they exclaimed. Even Mrs. Arbuthnot exclaimed, though
her exclamation was only "Oh."
Mrs. Wilkins exclaimed at greater length. "Why, but it's like
having the bread taken out of one's mouth!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilkins.
"How do you do," said Mrs. Fisher. "I can't get up because of my
stick." And she stretched out her hand across the table.
They advanced and shook it.
"We had no idea you were here," said Mrs. Arbuthnot.
"Yes," said Mrs. Fisher, resuming her breakfast. "Yes. I am
here." And with composure she removed the top of her egg.
"It's a great disappointment," said Mrs. Wilkins. "We had meant
to give you such a welcome."
This was the one, Mrs. Fisher remembered, briefly glancing at
her, who when she came to Prince of Wales Terrace said she had seen
Keats. She must be careful with this one--curb her from the beginning.
She therefore ignored Mrs. Wilkins and said gravely, with a
downward face of impenetrable calm bent on her egg, "Yes. I arrived
yesterday with Lady Caroline."
"It's really dreadful," said Mrs. Wilkins, exactly as if she had
not been ignored. "There's nobody left to get anything ready for now.
I fee thwarted. I feel as if the bread had been taken out of my mouth
just when I was going to be happy swallowing it."
"Where will you sit?" asked Mrs. Fisher of Mrs. Arbuthnot--markedly
of Mrs. Arbuthnot; the comparison with the bread seemed to her most
unpleasant.
"Oh, thank you--" said Mrs. Arbuthnot, sitting down rather
suddenly next to her.
There were only two places she could sit down in, the places laid
on either side of Mrs. Fisher. She therefore sat down in one, and Mrs.
Wilkins sat down opposite her in the other.
Mrs. Fisher was at the head of the table. Round her was grouped
the coffee and the tea. Of course they were all sharing San Salvatore
equally, but it was she herself and Lotty, Mrs. Arbuthnot mildly
reflected, who had found it, who had had the work of getting it, who
had chosen to admit Mrs. Fisher into it. Without them, she could not
help thinking, Mrs. Fisher would not have been there. Morally Mrs.
Fisher was a guest. There was no hostess in this party, but supposing
there had been a hostess it would not have been Mrs. Fisher, nor Lady
Caroline, it would have been either herself or Lotty. Mrs. Arbuthnot
could not help feeling this as she sat down, and Mrs. Fisher, the hand
which Ruskin had wrung suspended over the pots before her, inquired,
"Tea or coffee?" She could not help feeling it even more definitely
when Mrs. Fisher touched a small gong on the table beside her as though
she had been used to that gong and that table ever since she was
little, and, on Francesca's appearing, bade her in the language of
Dante bring more milk. There was a curious air about Mrs. Fisher,
thought Mrs. Arbuthnot, of being in possession; and if she herself had
not been so happy she would have perhaps minded.
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