The Acceptance World - Anthony Powell [66]
‘Oh, do let’s go,’ said Anne Stepney, suddenly abandoning her bored, listless tone. ‘I’ve always longed to meet Mrs. Andriadis. Wasn’t she some king’s mistress—was it——‘
‘It was,’ said Umfraville.
‘I’ve heard so many stories of the wonderful parties she gives.’
Umfraville stepped forward and took her hand. ‘Your ladyship wishes to come,’ he said softly, as if playing the part of a courtier in some ludicrously mannered ceremonial. ‘We go, then. Yours to command.’
He bent his head over the tips of her fingers. I could not see whether his lips actually touched them, but the burlesque was for some reason extraordinarily funny, so that we all laughed. Yet, although absurd, Umfraville’s gesture had also a kind of grace which clearly pleased and flattered Anne Stepney. She even blushed a little. Although he laughed with the rest of us, I saw that Barnby was a trifle put out, as indeed most men would have been in the circumstances. He had certainly recognised Umfraville as a rival with a technique entirely different from his own. I looked across to Jean to see if she wanted to join the expedition. She nodded quickly and smiled. All at once things were going all right again between us.
‘I’ve only met Mrs. Andriadis a couple of times,’ said Barnby. ‘But we got on very well on both occasions—in fact she bought a drawing. I suppose she won’t mind such a large crowd?’
‘Mind?’ said Umfraville. ‘My dear old boy, Milly will be tickled to death. Come along. We can all squeeze into one taxi. Foppa, we shall meet again. You shall have your revenge.’
Mrs. Andriadis was, of course, no longer living in the Duports’ house in Hill Street, where Stringham had taken me to the party. That house had been sold by Duport at the time of his financial disaster. She was now installed, so it appeared, in a large block of flats recently erected in Park Lane. I was curious to see how her circumstances would strike me on re-examination. Her party had seemed, at the time, to reveal a new and fascinating form of life, which one might never experience again. Such a world now was not only far less remarkable than formerly, but also its special characteristics appeared scarcely necessary to seek in an active manner. Its elements had, indeed, grown up all round one like strange tropical vegetation: more luxuriant, it was true, in some directions rather than others: attractive here, repellent there, but along every track that could be followed almost equally dense and imprisoning.
‘She really said she would like to see us?’ I asked, as, tightly packed, we ascended in the lift.
Umfraville’s reply was less assuring than might have been hoped.
‘She said, “Oh, God, you again, Dicky. Somebody told me you died of drink in 1929.” I said, “Milly, I’m coming straight round with a few friends to give you that kiss I forgot when we were in Havana together.” She said, “Well, I hope you’ll bring along that pony you owe me, too, which you forgot at the same time.” So saying, she snapped the receiver down.’
‘So she has no idea how many we are?’
‘Milly knows I have lots of friends.’
‘All the same—’
‘Don’t worry, old boy. Milly will eat you all up. Especially as you are a friend of Charles.’
I was, on the contrary, not at all sure that it would be wise to mention Stringham’s name to Mrs. Andriadis.
‘We had to sue her after she took our house,’ said Jean.
‘Yes, I expect so,’ said Umfraville.
The circumstances of our arrival did not seem specially favourable in the light of these remarks. We were admitted to what was evidently a large flat by an elderly lady’s-maid, who had the anxious, authoritative demeanour of a nanny, or nursery governess, long established in the family.
‘Well, Ethel,’ said Umfraville. ‘How are you keeping? Quite a long time since we met.’
Her face brightened at once when she recognised him.
‘And how are you, Mr. Umfraville? Haven’t set eyes on you since the days in Cuba. You look very well indeed, sir. Where did you get your sunburn?’
‘Not too bad, Ethel. What a time it was in Cuba. And how is Mrs. A.?’