The Classic Mystery Collection - Arthur Conan Doyle [1844]
"For what?"
"For your fan. Leave it there under the sofa-cushion before we go down to dinner. You will sit next to Launce, and you will give him private instructions not to find the fan. You will get impatient--you will go to find it yourself--and there you are. Take care of your shoulders, Mrs. Linzie! I have nothing more to say."
The guests asked to dinner began to arrive. Lady Winwood was recalled to her duties as mistress of the house.
It was a pleasant little dinner--with one drawback. It began too late. The ladies only reached the small drawing-room at ten minutes to ten. Launce was only able to join them as the clock struck.
"Too late!" whispered Natalie. "He will be here directly."
"Nobody comes punctually to an evening party," said Launce. "Don't let us lose a moment. Send me for your fan."
Natalie opened her lips to say the necessary words. Before she could speak, the servant announced--"Mr. Turlington."
He came in, with his stiffly-upright shirt collar and his loosely-fitting glossy black clothes. He made his sullen and clumsy bow to Lady Winwood. And then he did, what he had done dozens of times already--he caught Natalie, with her eyes still bright and her face still animated (after talking to Launce)--a striking contrast to the cold and unimpulsive young lady whom he was accustomed to see while Natalie was talking to _him_.
Lord Winwood's daughters were persons of some celebrity in the world of amateur music. Noticing the look that Turlington cast at Launce, Lady Winwood whispered to Miss Lavinia--who instantly asked the young ladies to sing. Launce, in obedience to a sign from Natalie, volunteered to find the music-books. It is needless to add that he pitched on the wrong volume at starting. As he lifted it from the piano to take it back to the stand, there dropped out from between the leaves a printed letter, looking like a circular. One of the young ladies took it up, and ran her eye over it, with a start.
"The Sacred Concerts!" she exclaimed.
Her two sisters, standing by, looked at each other guiltily: "What will the Committee say to us? We entirely forgot the meeting last month."
"Is there a meeting this month?"
They all looked anxiously at the printed letter.
"Yes! The twenty-third of December. Put it down in your book, Amelia." Amelia, then and there, put it down among the engagements for the latter end of the month. And Natalie's unacknowledged husband placidly looked on.
So did the merciless irony of circumstances make Launce the innocent means of exposing his own secret to discovery. Thanks to his success in laying his hand on the wrong music-book, there would now be a meeting--two good days before the elopement could take place--between the lord's daughters and the rector's wife!
The guests of the evening began to appear by twos and threes. The gentlemen below stairs left the dinner-table, and joined them.
The small drawing-room was pleasantly filled, and no more. Sir Joseph Graybrooke, taking Turlington's hand, led him eagerly to their host. The talk in the dining-room had turned on finance. Lord Winwood was not quite satisfied with some of his foreign investments; and Sir Joseph's "dear Richard" was the very man to give him a little sound advice. The three laid their heads together in a corner. Launce (watching them) slyly pressed Natalie's hand. A renowned "virtuoso" had arrived, and was thundering on the piano. The attention of the guests generally was absorbed in the performance. A fairer chance of sending Launce for the fan could not possibly have offered itself. While the financial discussion was still proceeding, the married lovers were ensconced together alone in the boudoir.
Lady Winwood (privately observant of their absence) kept her eye on the corner, watching