“Oh, no,” disclaimed Louisa, hastily. “I — I had no intention of dancing at all, my lord.”
He raised his eyebrows. “No intention of dancing, ma’am? But surely that is a little singular. Why else does one attend a ball?”
Louisa coloured. “I came because — oh, because it was expected of me,” she answered, hurriedly. “I had no expectation of pleasure from the occasion.”
He considered her thoughtfully. “I must confess, Miss Denham, that I have never yet encountered a young lady who did not expect any pleasure from a ball. But perhaps my experience is not so wide as I had supposed. Or is it that I have so far been sadly deceived in thinking that these fair creatures we see before us” — he negligently waved his quizzing glass in the direction of the dancers — “are really enjoying themselves? Your sister, for instance, over there” — his roving glance found the laughing Catherine and her dark, handsome partner — “can it possibly be that her animated manner conceals a deep detestation of the whole business? You, who know her so well, must provide the answer. I can only say that she has tricked me completely into believing that she is enjoying herself prodigiously.”
This speech won a reluctant laugh from Louisa. “Oh, yes, Katie is certainly enjoying herself! She always does, you know — she has excellent spirits. But then, there is no reason why she should not.” She sighed. “She is heart whole and fancy free, very different —”
She pulled herself up abruptly, on the verge of an indiscreet admission.
“You would have said,” prompted Pamyngton, gently, “from yourself. Am I right?”
She nodded miserably. He waited a moment, his eyes fixed on her in a look of understanding and compassion that almost tempted her to pour out all her troubles to him. She suddenly understood why it was that Katie had so recklessly confided in this man when he had found her stranded on the road to Cuckfield. When they had been told the story yesterday, all the sisters had protested at her indiscretion.
“I couldn’t help it,” Catherine had insisted. “There’s something about him that draws you on to tell him everything — yet he’s no Paul Pry, don’t think that. It’s just that he’s so — oh, so prodigiously understanding! The French have a better word for it — sympathique.”
Sympathique: yes, that was it exactly, thought Louisa. But her sense of propriety, always stronger than Catherine’s, prevented her from following her sister’s example in giving confidences which would later, no doubt, be regretted. She forced a smile.
“I dare say I am past the age for taking pleasure in balls,” she said, with an attempt at lightness.
“Oh, undoubtedly,” he agreed, cheerfully. “A lady of your advanced years clearly cannot be expected to dance, and should never venture out unless in a wheelchair. Have you tried a sojourn at Bath, ma’am? They say the waters there are most beneficial for the elderly. Brighton, I fear, is altogether too lively and bracing a place when one has reached the evening of life, as it were.”
In spite of herself, Louisa could not help laughing. Having started, she found it not too difficult to continue, especially as her companion kept up a flow of witty nonsense which gave her no time for melancholy thoughts.
Catherine, passing close to them in the movements of the dance, noticed with amazement how well they seemed to be going on together. Louisa was actually laughing! That was indeed a rare happening nowadays. She kept her eyes on them for a while longer, and presently was astonished to see Pamyngton leading her sister on to the floor. An exclamation escaped her which made her partner turn his head in the direction of her incredulous gaze.
“What is it?” His bored glance lighted on Pamyngton, and a sneer came into his voice. “Never say that the amiable Pamyngton has roused your interest, Miss Catherine? If so, you can look to have a good many rivals, for I collect that he’s quite the most eligible catch of the season.”
“Certainly not!” exclaimed Catherine, with hauteur. “I wonder you should have the temerity to say such a thing to me!”
“I’ve plenty of temerity, one way and another, ma’am,” he said with a sardonic smile, taking her hand to guide her through one of the movements of the dance. “And I rather think that you have, too. Perhaps that’s why we make such splendid partners?”
“Perhaps.” She flashed a quick smile at him, her good humour restored. “But, tell me, why do you dislike Lord Pamyngton?”
“Dislike?” He shook his head. “Too strong. The fellow’s a bore — he’s got altogether too much of everything. Too much affability, money, position — even too much luck.”
“Too much luck?”
“Exactly. He cleaned up a packet at Raggett’s t’other evening, and another at the Races today. Now I,” he finished, with a dry smile, “can do nothing right in that direction lately. Lady Luck has deserted me for the moment. Like any woman, she’s a fickle jade, and always bestows her favours where they’re least appreciated.”
“Raggett’s?” queried Catherine. “I don’t know — is that a gaming place?”
He nodded. “The play’s devilish high there, too.”
“Well, sir, I’m sorry if your luck is out for the moment. But perhaps Viscount Pamyngton has earned his — you know what the saying is” — she gave him a coy glance — “Lucky at cards, unlucky in love.”
“Indeed?” The dark brows lifted. “I was not aware of any particular interest of his at present. But you ladies, of course, are always better informed on such matters.”
“You are not very gallant to say so, Captain Crendon!”
“No,” he replied, mockingly. “Do you mind?”
She tossed her head, and the chandelier above caught the chestnut lights in her hair.
“I wasn’t speaking of now,” she said, “but of the past — long past. I’ve been told that Lord Pamyngton was once very much in love with a girl who married someone else.”
He frowned in an effort of concentration. “Ah, yes, I do recall something of the kind. I was only a young sprig then, though. It was one of the Eversley girls, was it not? A deuced fine redhead, like all of them — took London by storm, and ended up marrying some ineligible fellow or other. Is that the story?”
“Yes, that’s it. So you see, sir, you must not grudge Lord Pamyngton his luck with cards and horses.”
“I grudge the man nothing but his share in our conversation, which is far beyond his desserts. I would much prefer to talk about you. Has anyone ever told you how pretty your hair is?”
“I suppose the proper answer to that would be no,” she said, with a saucy look. “But I am going to follow your lead in candour, Captain Crendon. Yes, I have been told so — several times.”
He grinned. “You see, it’s just as I said. We make capital partners. Will you drive out with me to Rottingdean tomorrow?”
“If my sister Fanny permits it.” She was at her most demure now.
“She will. I shall seek her out as soon as this dance is over. And then I shall come to claim you for the next.”
“You are very sure of yourself, sir, but it will not do. We cannot be dancing too much together, or people will talk.”
“Pah! Gossip! You don’t regard the old tabbies any more than I do.”
She laughed, tapping him playfully on the wrist with her fan. Pamyngton and Louisa, who were close at hand at that moment, saw the gesture.
“Your sister appears tolerably pleased with her partner,” remarked Pamyngton, thoughtfully.
Louisa agreed, watching the other couple for a moment.
“I wish I had his address,” went on Pamyngton, with a rueful smile. “Whenever I approach Miss Catherine, we seem to be at odds in a second. You saw how she refused to dance with me.”
“Oh, you must not heed Katie — it’s just one of her little games,” replied Louisa, consolingly. “She’s full of fun, you know, and scarcely ever takes anything seriously.”
“So I should suppose; but it does happen that unfortunately I have given her some cause to be vexed with me. There
fore I find it difficult to judge how much of her manner towards me is jest and how much earnest.” He paused, then added, “I would rather like to know.”
Her lovely blue eyes held a soft expression as they lifted to his face. “I don’t think she is vexed with you any longer, my lord, though she may have been at first.”
“You know about my offence, then? She has told you?”
Louisa nodded. “She told us yesterday. We had guessed there was something, but knew we should have to wait to find out about it until it no longer upset her. And that with Katie,” she added, reflectively, “is never very long. So you see there’s no occasion for you to concern yourself — you may forget the whole incident, as she has done.”
“Oddly enough,” he replied, quietly, “I don’t wish to forget it. I found it most diverting. Your sister is an — unusual — young lady.”
Louisa looked uneasy. “Yes — even her family seldom know what she would be at. I — forgive me, but I think you should not take her too seriously, sir — in any way.” She invested the final words with significance. “She is very young and gay; and although she is the sweetest, most loving girl in the world, she can be a thought — heedless, at times.”
“I take your meaning. Miss Denham.” He gave her a serious look. “And I thank you for your interest.”
“As to that,” stammered Louisa, her colour coming and going, “I know what it is to be unhappy — that is to say, I would not have anyone — if anything I could say would prevent it —”
He pressed her hand. “I, too, am not without previous experience of that kind. Believe me, I am truly grateful for your warning.”
But the question was, thought Louisa, did it come in time?
Chapter Ten
A CHANCE MEETING
Frances demurred a little at the proposed drive with Captain Crendon, but in the end she consented.
“It is not that there’s anything singular in a gentleman driving a young lady to Rottingdean, for you may see any amount of curricles and phaetons on any fine day on that particular road. It is as respectable as a drive in Hyde Park. But I had far rather see you go with Pamyngton than with Captain Crendon, I must confess.”
“But Lord Pamyngton hasn’t asked me.”
“Whose fault is that? I noticed that you refused to dance with him last night on several occasions. It was scarcely civil of you.”
“Oh, well,” said Catherine, with a shrug, “I was already promised to someone else for those particular dances, and it would have been even more uncivil to break a previous engagement, now, wouldn’t it? Besides, he consoled himself with Lou!” She turned to Louisa. “I must say I was amazed to see you standing up with him — or, indeed, with anyone! But I was monstrous glad that you heeded my advice, after all.”
A faint colour came to Louisa’s cheek. “I did not like to refuse his second application, especially after you’d also refused him,” she said, apologetically. “It must be vastly uncomfortable for a gentleman to be rebuffed in that way, and especially such a one as Viscount Pamyngton.”
“Because he is a wealthy nobleman, you mean?” scoffed Catherine. “All the more reason why he should be made to understand that not every girl will come running at a crook of his little finger!”
“I do not mean that, for I’m positive that he is not the kind of gentleman to suppose anything of the kind,” objected Louisa, with some heat. “What I meant was that — well, that —”
She hesitated.
“Well?” prompted Catherine.
“It is not his rank or fortune,” continued Louisa, slowly, “but his other qualities, of which I am sure he’s scarcely aware. He’s such a fine-looking gentleman — it’s not too much to call him handsome — and his air, manners and address are so exactly what they ought to be —”
“So they are,” agreed Frances, watching her sister closely.
“He’s had an expensive education,” remarked Catherine, her tongue in her cheek.
“So have others, but with less desirable results,” retorted Louisa. “The qualities one must particularly admire in Lord Pamyngton spring from his own character, and not from any artificially inspired cause. He is so understanding of the difficulties and shortcomings of others, so — so gentle, somehow —”
She broke off in confusion, realizing that her sisters were staring at her.
“In short, he’s a paragon,” summed up Catherine after a pause, dismissing the subject with a shrug. “And I never did care for paragons, not being one myself. Well, I must go and make ready for my outing.”
Frances, too, declared that she must attend to some domestic business; both sisters wore thoughtful looks as they turned away.
Catherine’s soon vanished as she conducted a lightning survey of her wardrobe for something to wear. Garments were flung hither and thither until her maid, who had been with her for some years and was allowed a great deal of freedom, uttered a protest.
“Sakes, Miss Katie, there’ll not be one of those gowns fit to wear afterwards! Have done, do!”
But at that moment Catherine seized a pink and white striped muslin walking dress with a square neck and short, puff sleeves.
“My pink gloves and slippers, Betsy, quick, quick! Oh, I’m sorry it’s all such a mess, but I’m in a prodigious rush! Pray, which bonnet shall I wear? This!” — she held up a Grecian helmet, and surveyed it critically before flinging it down in a way which would have wounded her milliner to the quick — “no, I am not in the mood for classical simplicity today! It shall be this one, I think. It frames my face quite delightfully, besides having ribbons to match my gown! But my hair is such a mess — pray be a good girl, Betsy, and do my hair for me very quickly, please, and in your prettiest style! And I tell you what, I will give you my yellow gown that you admire so much, to wear when you go walking with that good-looking footman next door.”
“A footman next door, miss?” asked Betsy, innocently. “Which one is that?”
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you out with him, you sly thing,” replied her mistress, hurriedly washing her hands and face in a bowl of warm, perfumed water.
Betsy was heard to say that a girl must take her diversions where she could find them, especially when she was away from her usual haunts.
“Very true,” replied Catherine, drying herself on the towel which the maid handed to her. “That is precisely what I am myself doing.”
Captain Crendon was chatting to Frances in the morning room when Catherine finally made her way downstairs. He rose at her entrance, and surveyed her with a frankly approving smile.
“Now, it’s understood,” said Frances, as she saw them to the door, “that you are to return in time for luncheon, so I shall look to see you no later.”
“Your chaperone evidently doesn’t care to trust you too long in my company,” remarked Crendon, as he handed Catherine up into the curricle which was awaiting them outside in the care of a groom.
He swung himself up into the vehicle after her, and took up the reins, dismissing the groom with a nod.
“If she does not, you have only yourself to blame, sir,” she answered, with a saucy look.
“Very true.” His dark eyes lingered on her face. “And I’m sure she is wise. You look so delectable this morning, a more prudent man than myself would be hard put to it to keep the line.”
Catherine was delighted with this remark, but she knew better than to take it seriously.
“I dare say you say exactly the same thing to all the ladies you take out driving with you,” she said, laughing.
“To be sure I do. It’s expected of a man, after all. But I don’t always mean it as much as I do at the present moment.”
She found his candour refreshing, though at times it took her aback. This morning, it added exactly the right touch of piquancy to what was a delightful occasion. The curricle bowled merrily over the road which ran along the white cliffs, with the sea far below sparkling in the bright sunshine. A little breeze, just enough to pre
vent the weather from being too hot, set the ribbons of her bonnet fluttering. She was in a mood to be pleased, and kept up a constant flow of happy chatter.
After they had driven about four miles, they turned inland to reach Rottingdean, a pleasant village grouped about a green. Here Crendon reined in the horses so that they could survey the scene. The old village church rose above a pond on which ducks sailed serenely, flirting their tails or submerging in a flurry from time to time in search of food. Close by on the path a man stood motionless, gazing across the pond abstractedly, as though lulled by the peace and beauty surrounding him.
Catherine glanced incuriously at him, then started violently, and looked again, this time more intently.
“Well I’m blessed!” she exclaimed, excitedly. “If it isn’t Oliver! Oh, Captain Crendon, I must speak to him — pray set me down for a moment!”
The man heard her voice and looked up. After a brief hesitation, he walked round the path towards them and stopped beside the curricle.
“Ka — Miss Catherine,” he said, removing his hat and bowing. “I did not think to see you here, so far from your home — it is indeed a surprise.”
“Not such a surprise as it is to me to see you here, Oliver, for you must recall that we were promised to my sister Fanny in Brighton this age past. But I am forgetting” — turning to her companion — “you two do not know each other. Oliver, this is Captain Crendon — Captain, this is Mr. Seaton, whom my family have known for ever. We are neighbours at home.”
The gentlemen acknowledged the introduction with bows, and ventured a few polite remarks about the weather.
“But I must have a word with Oliver in private, if you will forgive me, Captain Crendon, for I have something of the utmost urgency to say to him. If you will be good enough to hand me down, and wait just a few minutes —”
The Captain shrugged. “As you wish, ma’am. But I never knew a woman yet who could say anything, however urgent, in a few minutes; and as these beasts of mine are still frisky, and won’t take kindly to standing, I propose to tool them around a bit, and pick you up later. Shall we say in a quarter of an hour? How will that suit?”
A Season at Brighton Page 8
