“you miserable gutless wretch,” mrs stafford hissed at mr stafford. “this is positively the last indignity i suffer at your weak hands. when we leave here we go our separate ways, and this time i mean it.”
“darling, the problem is not that i don’t have guts, but that i do, ” mr stafford replied, lying on the sofa of their suite, with a towel over his eyes. “surely you don’t want me to do something on mrs foster’s clean white tablecloth, that she probably pays more to launder than we can hope to scratch up I’m a year.”
“yes, and we will go on scratching year after year, if you can’t play up and play the game just when the fighting is hottest. after all the work and scheming i put into getting this invitation - i don’t know what to say. except that you disgust me.”
“i can disgust you, darling,” mr staffed replied. “but nobody else seems to be paying the least bit of attention to us, no matter how much work you put into getting the invitation.”
“no, because you won’’t make any effort to get their attention. how are lord chandler and the other guests to notice you if you stay in bed with a rag over your face?”
mr stafford sighed, but did not respond further.
“i am going downstairs now,” mrs stafford announced. “i give you one last chance to play the man.”
“enjoy your dinner.”
“very well, then.” mrs stafford left the room.
she stood outside the door for about half a minute, but there were no sounds from within from mr stafford.
nor did anyone else appear in the corridor. she headed for the wide staircase, and as she did so, the frown vanished from her face and was replaced by a satisfied smile.
*
mr stafford waited for two minutes after mrs stafford closed the door behind her, then got up, and opened the door to make sure she was not lurking outside.
he saw. on the other side of the great staircase, another of the guests - what was her name, daisy something? - approaching the head of the stairs, but barely glanced at her and went back into the room and closed the door behind him.
*
the dinner proceeded with the smoothness only possible when neither the host nor any of the guests cared whether it did or not.
to mrs foster it was just another dinner to host for her long time friend lord chandler.
lord chandler and mr mahmoud had weighty affairs of state - if not the fate of civilization - on their plate, and were happy to be free of them for a couple of hours, no matter how bland or boring the conversation.
m chan, mr mahmoud’s assistant, also had affairs of state on his mind, albeit at one remove, but was in fact quite hungry and looking forward to feeding himself.
the duke of dent also had something on his mind - the damned awkward business of his trip to the kingdom of s…………… what a bother!
mrs stafford was in a good mood, feeling she had achieved her purpose in getting invited to the dinner - getting well rid of mr stafford, and much more easily than she had hoped.
joe and mary did not know what to expect, and were more than happy just to be getting fed.
to angeline and mlle feval, it was just another night.
and the two remaining guests, the ubiquitous mrs cream and the slightly mysterious darcy filbertson, were just happy to be there.
35. "i say we go ahead"
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