Arnold Bennett was a prolific British writer who penned dozens of works across all genres, from adventurous fiction to propaganda and nonfiction. He wrote plays like Judith and historical novels like Tales of the Five Towns.
Chapter 1 No.1
Three weeks and three days before the ball Denry Machin was seated one Monday alone in Mr Duncalf's private offices in Duck Square (where he carried on his practice as a solicitor), when in stepped a tall and pretty young woman, dressed very smartly but soberly in dark green. On the desk in front of Denry were several wide sheets of "abstract" paper, concealed by a copy of that morning's Athletic News. Before Denry could even think of reversing the positions of the abstract paper and the Athletic News the young woman said "Good-morning!" in a very friendly style.
She had a shrill voice and an efficient smile.
"Good-morning, madam," said Denry.
"Mr Duncalf in?" asked the young woman brightly.
(Why should Denry have slipped off his stool? It is utterly against etiquette for solicitors' clerks to slip off their stools while answering inquiries.)
"No, madam; he's across at the Town Hall," said Denry.
The young lady shook her head playfully, with a faint smile.
"I've just been there," she said. "They said he was here."
"I daresay I could find him, madam-if you would--"
She now smiled broadly. "Conservative Club, I suppose?" she said, with an air deliciously confidential.
He, too, smiled.
"Oh, no," she said, after a little pause; "just tell him I've called."
"Certainly, madam. Nothing I can do?"
She was already turning away, but she turned back and scrutinised his face, as Denry thought, roguishly.
"You might just give him this list," she said, taking a paper from her satchel and spreading it. She had come to the desk; their elbows touched. "He isn't to take any notice of the crossings-out in red ink- you understand? Of course, I'm relying on him for the other lists, and I expect all the invitations to be out on Wednesday. Good-morning."
She was gone. He sprang to the grimy window. Outside, in the snow, were a brougham, twin horses, twin men in yellow, and a little crowd of youngsters and oldsters. She flashed across the footpath, and vanished; the door of the carriage banged, one of the twins in yellow leaped up to his brother, and the whole affair dashed dangerously away. The face of the leaping twin was familiar to Denry. The man had, indeed, once inhabited Brougham Street, being known to the street as Jock, and his mother had for long years been a friend of Mrs Machin's.
It was the first time Denry had seen the Countess, save at a distance. Assuredly she was finer even than her photographs. Entirely different from what one would have expected! So easy to talk to! (Yet what had he said to her? Nothing-and everything.)
He nodded his head and murmured, "No mistake about that lot!" Meaning, presumably, that all that one had read about the brilliance of the aristocracy was true, and more than true.
"She's the finest woman that ever came into this town," he murmured.
The truth was that she surpassed his dreams of womanhood. At two o'clock she had been a name to him. At five minutes past two he was in love with her. He felt profoundly thankful that, for a church tea-meeting that evening, he happened to be wearing his best clothes.
It was while looking at her list of invitations to the ball that he first conceived the fantastic scheme of attending the ball himself. Mr Duncalf was, fussily and deferentially, managing the machinery of the ball for the Countess. He had prepared a little list of his own of people who ought to be invited. Several aldermen had been requested to do the same. There were thus about half-a-dozen lists to be combined into one. Denry did the combining. Nothing was easier than to insert the name of E.H. Machin inconspicuously towards the centre of the list! Nothing was easier than to lose the original lists, inadvertently, so that if a question arose as to any particular name, the responsibility for it could not be ascertained without inquiries too delicate to be made. On Wednesday Denry received a lovely Bristol board, stating in copper-plate that the Countess desired the pleasure of his company at the ball; and on Thursday his name was ticked off as one who had accepted.
Chapter 1 No.1
01/12/2017
Chapter 2 No.2
01/12/2017
Chapter 3 No.3
01/12/2017
Chapter 4 No.4
01/12/2017
Chapter 5 No.5
01/12/2017
Chapter 6 No.6
01/12/2017
Chapter 7 No.7
01/12/2017
Chapter 8 No.8
01/12/2017
Chapter 9 No.9
01/12/2017
Chapter 10 No.10
01/12/2017
Chapter 11 No.11
01/12/2017
Chapter 12 No.12
01/12/2017
Chapter 13 No.13
01/12/2017
Chapter 14 No.14
01/12/2017
Chapter 15 No.15
01/12/2017
Chapter 16 No.16
01/12/2017
Chapter 17 No.17
01/12/2017
Chapter 18 No.18
01/12/2017
Chapter 19 No.19
01/12/2017
Chapter 20 No.20
01/12/2017
Chapter 21 No.21
01/12/2017
Chapter 22 No.22
01/12/2017
Chapter 23 No.23
01/12/2017
Chapter 24 No.24
01/12/2017
Chapter 25 No.25
01/12/2017
Chapter 26 No.26
01/12/2017
Chapter 27 No.27
01/12/2017
Chapter 28 No.28
01/12/2017
Chapter 29 No.29
01/12/2017
Chapter 30 No.30
01/12/2017
Chapter 31 No.31
01/12/2017
Chapter 32 No.32
01/12/2017
Chapter 33 No.33
01/12/2017
Chapter 34 No.34
01/12/2017
Chapter 35 No.35
01/12/2017
Chapter 36 No.36
01/12/2017
Chapter 37 No.37
01/12/2017
Chapter 38 No.38
01/12/2017
Chapter 39 No.39
01/12/2017
Chapter 40 No.40
01/12/2017
Other books by Arnold Bennett
More