Engagement of Marriage
"I am engaged to be married," Alex repeated to herself, in a vain endeavour to realize the height to which she must have now attained. But that realization, by which she meant tangible certainty, for which she craved, continually eluded her.
The preliminary formalities, indeed, duly took place, from her own avowal before a graciously-maternal Lady Isabel, to Noel's formal interview with Sir Francis in the traditional setting of the library.
After that, however, a freakish fate seemed to take control of all the circumstances connected with Alex' engagement.
Noel Cardew's father became ill, and in the uncertainty consequent upon a state of health which his doctor declared might be almost indefinitely prolonged, there could be no question of immediately announcing the engagement.
"Just as well, perhaps. We're all delighted about it, but they're both young enough to wait a little while," Lady Isabel smilingly made the best of it. "Next year will be quite time enough to settle anything."
Her serenity was the obvious outcome of an extreme contentment.
Alex found herself better able to regard herself in the light of one betrothed in her mother's company than in that of Noel. He treated her almost exactly as he had always done, with cheerful good-fellowship, and only at the very outset of the engagement with any tinge of shyness in his bearing.
"Of course, I ought to have got a ring," he said very seriously, "but I don't believe in taking any chances, and so, just in case there was any hitch, I waited. Besides, I don't know what you like best – you'll have to choose."
Alex smiled at the words. There was a glamour about such a choice, even beyond that with which her own sense of the romantic perforce enveloped it.
She wondered whether she would be allowed to go with Noel to a jeweller's, or whether he would, after all, choose his token alone, and bring it to her, and place it on her finger with one of those low, ardently-spoken sentences which she could hear so clearly in her own mind, and which seemed so strangely and utterly impossible in Noel's real presence.
But the arrival of Noel's ring, after all, took her by surprise.
He had been lunching with them in Clevedon Square, when the jeweller's assistant was announced, just as Lady Isabel was rising from the luncheon-table.
She turned enquiringly.
"Noel?"
"I told him to come here. I thought you wouldn't mind. You see, I want Alex to choose her ring."
"Oh, my dear boy! how very exciting! But may we see too?"
Mrs. Cardew was also present.
"Oh, rather," said Noel heartily. "We shall want your advice."
They all trooped hastily into the library, where the man was waiting, with the very large assortment of gleaming rings ordered for inspection by Noel.
"What beauties!" said Lady Isabel. "But, really, I don't know if I ought to let him."
She glanced at Mrs. Cardew, who said in a very audible voice:
"Of course. He's so happy. It's quite delightful to watch them both."
She was looking hard and appraisingly at the rings as she spoke.
Alex looked at them too, quite unseeing of their glittering magnificence, but acutely conscious that every one was waiting for her first word.
"Oh, how lovely!" she exclaimed faintly.
She chid herself violently for the sick disappointment that invaded her, not, indeed, at the matter, but at the manner of the gift.
And yet she realized dimly, that it was impossible that it should have happened in any other way – that any other way, indeed, would have been as utterly uncharacteristic of Noel Cardew as this was typical.
"Which do you like?" he asked her. "I chose all the most original ones I could see. I always like unconventional designs better than conventional ones, I'm afraid. Where's that long one you showed me this morning?"
"The diamond marquise, sir?" The assistant deferentially produced it, glancing the while at Alex.
"That's it," said Noel eagerly. "Try it on, Alex, won't you?"
He used her name quite freely and without any shyness.
Alex felt more of genuine excitement, and less of wistful bewilderment, than at any moment since Noel had first asked her to marry him, as she shyly held out her left hand and the jeweller slipped the heavy, beautiful ring onto her third finger.
She had long, slim hands, the fingers rather too thin and the knuckles, though small, too prominent for beauty. But, thanks to the tyranny of old Nurse, and to Lady Isabel's insistence upon the use of nightly glycerine-and-honey, they were exquisitely soft and white.
The diamonds gleamed and flashed at her as she moved the ring up and down her finger.
"We can easily make it smaller, to fit your finger," said the jeweller's assistant.
"It really is beautiful. Look, Francis," said Lady Isabel.
Alex' father put up his glasses, and after inspection he also exclaimed:
"Beautiful."
"You've such little fingers, dear, it'll have to be made smaller," said Mrs. Cardew graciously.
"Is it to be that one, then?" Lady Isabel asked.
Alex saw that her mother's pretty, youthful-looking flush of pleasurable excitement had mounted to her face. She herself, conscious of an inexplicable oppression, felt tongue-tied, and unable to do more than repeat foolishly and lifelessly:
"Oh, it's lovely, it's perfectly lovely. It's too beautiful."
Noel, however, looked gratified at the words of admiration.
"That's the one I like," he said with emphasis. "I knew when I saw them this morning that I liked that one much the best. We'll settle on that one, then, shall we?"
"You silly boy," laughed his mother, "that's for Alex to decide. Perhaps she likes something else better. Try the emerald, Alex?"
"Oh, this is lovely," repeated Alex again, shrinking back a little. Furious with herself, she was yet only desirous that the scene should not be prolonged any longer.
"Come and look at it in the light?" The urgent pressure of Lady Isabel's hand on her arm drew her into the embrasure of the window.
"Alex," said her mother low and swiftly, all the time holding up her hand against the light as though studying the ring. "Alex, you must be more gracious. What is the matter with you?"
"Nothing," said Alex childishly, feeling inclined to burst into tears.