THE COLLECTED WORKS OF E. F. BENSON (Illustrated Edition). E. F. Benson
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sooner he was out of range of this powerful woman the better.
"I am extremely sorry for what I said to you the other night," he said.
"I am glad you are sorry," said Miss Mapp.
"I offer you my apologies for what I said," continued Puffin.
The whip whistled.
"When you spoke to me on the occasion to which you refer," said Miss Mapp, "I saw, of course, at once that you were not in a condition to speak to anybody. I instantly did you that justice, for I am just to everybody. I paid no more attention to what you said than I should have paid to any tipsy vagabond in the slums. I dare say you hardly remember what you said, so that before I hear your expression of regret, I will remind you of it. You threatened, unless I promised to tell nobody in what a disgusting condition you were, to say that I was tipsy. Elizabeth Mapp tipsy! That was what you said, Captain Puffin."
Captain Puffin turned extremely red. ("Now the shrimp's being boiled," thought Miss Mapp.)
"I can't do more than apologize," said he. He did not know whether he was angrier with his ambassador or her.
"Did you say you couldn't do 'more'," said Miss Mapp with an air of great interest. "How curious! I should have thought you couldn't have done less."
"Well, what more can I do?" asked he.
"If you think," said Miss Mapp, "that you hurt me by your conduct that night, you are vastly mistaken. And if you think you can do no more than apologize, I will teach you better. You can make an effort, Captain Puffin, to break with your deplorable habits, to try to get back a little of the self-respect, if you ever had any, which you have lost. You can cease trying, oh, so unsuccessfully, to drag Major Benjy down to your level. That's what you can do."
She let these withering observations blight him.
"I accept your apologies," she said. "I hope you will do better in the future, Captain Puffin, and I shall look anxiously for signs of improvement. We will meet with politeness and friendliness when we are brought together and I will do my best to wipe all remembrance of your tipsy impertinence from my mind. And you must do your best too. You are not young, and engrained habits are difficult to get rid of. But do not despair, Captain Puffin. And now I will ring for Withers and she will show you out."
She rang the bell, and gave a sample of her generous oblivion.
"And we meet, do we not, this evening at Mrs Poppit's?" she said, looking not at him, but about a foot above his head. "Such pleasant evenings one always has there, I hope it will not be a wet evening, but the glass is sadly down. Oh, Withers, Captain Puffin is going. Good-morning, Captain Puffin. Such a pleasure!"
Miss Mapp hummed a rollicking little tune as she observed him totter down the street.
"There!" she said, and had a glass of Burgundy for lunch as a treat.
Chapter Ten
The news that Mr Wyse was to be of the party that evening at Mrs Poppit's and was to dine there first, en famille (as he casually let slip in order to air his French), created a disagreeable impression that afternoon in Tilling. It was not usual to do anything more than "have a tray" for your evening meal, if one of these winter bridge-parties followed, and there was, to Miss Mapp's mind, a deplorable tendency to ostentation in this dinner-giving before a party. Still, if Susan was determined to be extravagant, she might have asked Miss Mapp as well, who resented this want of hospitality. She did not like, either, this hole-and-corner en famille work with Mr Wyse; it indicated a pushing familiarity to which, it was hoped, Mr Wyse's eyes were open.
There was another point: the party, it had been ascertained, would in all number ten, and if, as was certain, there would be two bridge tables, that seemed to imply that two people would have to cut out. There were often nine at Mrs Poppit's bridge-parties (she appeared to be unable to count), but on those occasions Isabel was generally told by her mother that she did not care for bridge, and so there was no cutting out, but only a pleasant book for Isabel. But what would be done with ten? It was idle to hope that Susan would sit out: as hostess she always considered it part of her duties to play solidly the entire evening. Still, if the cutting of cards malignantly ordained that Miss Mapp was ejected, it was only reasonable to expect that after her magnanimity to the United Services, either Major Benjy or Captain Puffin would be so obdurate in his insistence that she must play instead of him, that it would be only ladylike to yield.
She did not, therefore, allow this possibility to dim the pleasure she anticipated from the discomfiture of darling Diva, who would be certain to appear in the kingfisher-blue tea-gown, and find herself ghastly and outshone by the crimson-lake which was the colour of Mrs Trout's second toilet, and Miss Mapp, after prolonged thought as to her most dramatic moment of entrance in the crimson-lake, determined to arrive when she might expect the rest of the guests to have already assembled. She would risk, it is true, being out of a rubber for a little, since bridge might have already begun, but play would have to stop for a minute of greetings when she came in, and she would beg everybody not to stir; and would seat herself quite, quite close to Diva, and openly admire her pretty frock, "like one I used to have . . .!"
It was, therefore, not much lacking of ten o'clock when, after she had waited a considerable time on Mrs Poppit's threshold, Boon sulkily allowed her to enter, but gave no answer to her timid enquiry of: "Am I very late, Boon?" The drawing-room door was a little ajar, and as she took off the cloak that masked the splendour of the crimson-lake, her acute ears heard the murmur of talk going on, which indicated that bridge had not yet begun, while her acute nostrils detected the faint but certain smell of roast grouse, which showed what Susan had given Mr Wyse for dinner, probably telling him that the birds were a present to her from the shooting-lodge where she had stayed in the summer. Then, after she had thrown herself a glance in the mirror, and put on her smile, Boon preceded her, slightly shrugging his shoulders, to the drawing-room door, which he pushed open, and grunted loudly, which was his manner of announcing a guest. Miss Mapp went tripping in, almost at a run, to indicate how vexed she was with herself for being late, and there, just in front of her, stood Diva, dressed not in kingfisher-blue at all, but in the crimson-lake of Mrs Trout's second toilet. Perfidious Diva had had her dress dyed too . . .
Miss Mapp's courage rose to the occasion. Other people, majors and tipsy captains, might be cowards, but not she. Twice now (omitting the matter of the Wars of the Roses) had Diva by some cunning, which it was impossible not to suspect of a diabolical origin, clad her odious little roundabout form in splendours identical with Miss Mapp's, but now, without faltering even when she heard Evie's loud squeak, she turned to her hostess, who wore the Order of M.B.E. on her ample breast, and made her salutations in a perfectly calm voice.
"Dear Susan, don't scold me for being so late," she said, "though I know I deserve it. So sweet of you! Isabel darling and dear Evie! Oh, and Mr Wyse! Sweet Irene! Major Benjy and Captain Puffin! Had a nice game of golf? And the Padre! . . ."
She hesitated a moment wondering, if she could, without screaming or scratching, seem aware of Diva's presence. Then she soared, lambent as flame.
"Diva darling!" she said, and bent and kissed her, even as St Stephen in the moment of martyrdom prayed for those who stoned him. Flesh and blood could not manage more, and she turned to Mr Wyse, remembering that Diva had told her that the Contessa Faradiddleony's arrival was postponed.
"And your dear sister has put off her journey, I understand," she said. "Such a disappointment! Shall we see her at Tilling at all, do you think?"
Mr Wyse looked surprised.
"Dear lady," he said, "you're the second person who has said that to me. Mrs Plaistow asked me just now —"
"Yes; it was she who told me," said Miss Mapp in case there was a mistake. "Isn't it true?"
"Certainly not. I told my housekeeper that the Contessa's maid was ill, and would follow her, but that's the only foundation I know of for