“Oh, the deuce take that creature!” exclaimed Sophy. “Now what has she done?”
“She was walking here with Alfred,” said Cecilia, “and she came upon us!”
“Well,” said Sophy reasonably, “I own I do not like her, and Alfred is certainly the horridest little beast in nature, but I see nothing in that to put you so much out of countenance! He cannot have tried to put his arm round your waist if his sister was present!”
“Oh, Alfred!” said Cecilia contemptuously. “Not but what he would have me take his arm, and then squeezed it in the most odious way, and ogled, and said all the sort of things that make one itch to slap his face. But I care nothing for him! You see, Sophy, Augustus was with me!”
“Well?” said Sophy.
“It is true that we had fallen a little way behind Addy, for how can one have any rational conversation with the children chattering all the time? But she was not out of sight, and we had not stolen down a lonely path — at least, it wasn’t one of the more frequented paths, but Addy was there all the time, so what could it signify? — and to say that I was meeting Augustus clandestinely is wickedly unjust! Anyone would suppose him to be some hateful adventurer, instead of someone I have known all my life, pretty well! Why shouldn’t he walk in the Park? And if he does so, and we meet, pray, why should I not talk to him?”
“No reason at all. Did that repellent girl give you a scold?”
“Not me so much as poor Addy. She is in despair, for Eugenia seems to have said she was betraying Mama’s trust and encouraging me in clandestine behavior. She was quite odious to me, but she could not say anything very much, because Augustus was with me. She made him walk with her instead and told Alfred to give me his arm, and I felt smirched, Sophy, smirched!”
“Anyone would, who was obliged to take Alfred’s arm,” agreed Sophy.
“Not that! But Eugenia’s manner! As though she had found me out in something disgraceful! And that is not the worst! Charles is driving here, and not a moment before you came up he went past us with Eugenia seated beside him. He gave me the coldest look! She has told him all about it, depend upon it, and now he will be furious with me, and very likely work upon Mama as well, and everything will be sp dreadful!”
“No, it won’t,” said Sophy coolly. “In fact, I shouldn’t be at all surprised if this turned out to be a very good thing. I cannot explain all that to you now, but I do beg of you, Cecy, not to be so distressed! There is no need. I assure you there is none! Very likely Charles will not say a word to you about this.”
Cecilia turned incredulous eyes toward her. “Charles not say a word? You don’t know him! He was looking like a thundercloud!”
“I daresay he was; he very often does, and you are such a goose that you instantly quake like a blancmanger,” replied Sophy. “Presently, I shall set you down, and you will join poor little Addy and continue your walk. I shall go home, where I am pretty sure to find your brother, for we have driven right round the Park now and seen no sign of him, and I know he will go back to Berkeley Square, for I heard him mention to my uncle that somebody called Eckington would be calling there at five o’clock.”
“Papa’s agent,” said Cecilia listlessly. “And I don’t see, dearest Sophy, what it signifies, whether you find Charles at home or not, because he won’t speak of this to you. Why should he?”
“Oh, won’t he just?” retorted Sophy. “Depend upon it, by this time he will have persuaded himself that everything has been my fault from start to finish! Besides, he is furious with me for having bought this turnout without his help, yes, and for having hired a stable of my own, too! He must be longing for me to come back to the house so that he can quarrel with me without fear of interruption. Poor man! I think I should put you down at once, Cecy.”
“How brave you are!” Cecilia said wonderingly. “I do not know how you can bear it!”
“What, your brother’s tantrums? I see nothing to be afraid of in them!”
Cecilia shuddered. “It is not being afraid precisely, but I dread people being angry and thundering at me! I cannot help it, Sophy, and I know it is poor spirited of me, but my knees shake so, and I feel quite sick!”
“Well, they shan’t be made to shake today,” said Sophy cheerfully. “I am going to spike Charles’s guns. Oh, see! There is Francis Wolvey! The very thing! He shall restore you to Addy for me.”
She drew up as she spoke, and Lord Francis, who had been chatting to two ladies in a landaulet, came up to the phaeton,
“Sophy, a capital turnout! ’Servant, Miss Rivenhall! I wonder to see you trust yourself to such a madcap, I do indeed! She overturned me in a gig once. A gig!”
“What an unhandsome thing to say!” said Sophy indignantly. “As though I could have helped it on such, a road. Grenada! Oh, dear, what a long time ago it seems, to be sure!
“I came up with Sir Horace, and stayed with Mrs. Scovell,” supplied Lord Francis. “She was the only lady living at Headquarters that winter and used to hold loo parties. Do you remember?”
“Of course I do! And more vividly still the fleas in that dreadful village! Francis, I must pick up John Potton and be off. Will you escort my cousin to meet her little brother and sisters? They were walking with their governess somewhere beside the Drive.”
Lord Francis, upon whom Cecilia’s beauty had made a great impression when he had met her on the occasion of his calling in Berkeley Square, promptly said that nothing would give him more pleasure, and reached up his hands to help her down from the phaeton. He said that he hoped that they would not too speedily encounter the schoolroom party, and Cecilia, not impervious to his easy, friendly address, and evident admiration, began to look more cheerful.
Sophy, well satisfied saw them walk off together, and drove to where her groom awaited her by the Stanhope Gate. He reported that he had watched Mr. Rivenhall pass through it not many minutes earlier, and added, with a dry chuckle, that he looked to be on his high ropes still.
“Damned my impudence, Miss Sophy, and fair jobbed at the grays’ mouths!”
“Why, what had you said to enrage him?”
“All I said was you hadn’t never been broke to bridle, missie, and what with him being in agreement with me, and not able to say so, there was nothing for it but to damn me and drive off. I don’t blame him! Hot at hand, Miss Sophy, that’s what you are!”
Upon her arrival in Berkeley Square, Sophy found that Mr. Rivenhall had only just entered the house, having walked round from the mews. He was still wearing his caped driving coat, and had paused by the table in the hall to pick up and read a note that had been sent by one of his friends. He looked up frowningly as Dassett admitted Sophy, but he did not speak. Tina, who had developed (her mistress considered) an ill-judged passion for his society, frisked gaily up to him and employed every art known to her to attract his attention He did indeed glance down at her, but so far from encouraging her advances, said curtly, “Quiet!”
“Ah, so you are in before me!” remarked Sophy, pulling off her gloves. “Now, give me your candid opinion of those bays! Mr. Wychbold fancies you may have had an eye upon them yourself. Is that so?”
“Quite above my touch, Cousin!” he replied.
“No, really? I gave four hundred guineas for them, and think I have a bargain.”
“Were you serious when you gave me to understand that you have set up your own stable?” he demanded.
“Certainly I was serious. A pretty thing it would be if my aunt were obliged to bear the charge of my horses! Besides, I may very likely purchase two more, if I can find a couple to match the bays. I am told that it is all the crack to drive a phaeton and four, though I suppose that would mean altering the shafts, which would be a bore.”
“I have no control over your actions, Cousin,” he said coldly. “No doubt if it seems good to you to make a spectacle of yourself in the Park, you will do so. But you will not, if you please, take any of my sisters up beside you!”
“But it doesn’t please
me,” she said. “I have already taken Cecilia for a turn round the Drive. You have very antiquated notions, have you not? I saw several excessively smart sporting carriages being driven by ladies of the highest ton!”
“I have no particular objection to a phaeton and pair,” he said still more coldly, “though a perch model is quite unsuited to a lady. You will forgive me if I tell you that there is something more than a little fast in such a style of carriage.”
“Now, who in the world can have been spiteful enough to have put that idea into your head?” wondered Sophy. He flushed, but did not answer.
“Did you see Cecilia?” asked Sophy. “She was looking quite ravishing in that new hat your Mama was so clever as to choose for her!”
“I did see Cecilia,” he replied grimly. “What is more, I, like you, Cousin, know just how she had been spending her time! I am going to be extremely plain with you!”
“If you wish to be extremely plain with me,” she interrupted, “come into the library! It is quite improper in you to be talking of family matters where you may be overheard. Besides, I have something of a decidedly delicate nature to say to you.”
He strode at once to the door into the library and flung it open. She went past him into the room, and he followed her, shutting the door behind him too soon for Tina, who was left on the other side. This made it necessary for him to open it again, Tina’s orders to him to do so being at once shrill and imperative. This trifling anticlimax did nothing to improve his temper, and it was with a very unpleasant edge to his voice that he said, “We will take the gloves off, Cousin Sophy! Whether or not it was you who arranged an assignation in the Park for my sister with young Fawnhope, I am well aware that you — ”
“Isn’t Cecilia dashing?” said Sophy approvingly. “She walked with Fawnhope, and then with Alfred Wraxton, and I left her with Lord Francis! And that, dear Cousin Charles, is what I wanted to speak to you about! Far, far be it from me to interfere in the affairs of your family, but I think I ought perhaps to give you a hint. I know it is awkward for you, situated as you are, but you will know how to drop a word in Cecy’s ear.”
He was thrown out of his stride by this unexpected gambit, and stared at her. “What the devil are you talking about?”
“I don’t entirely care to mention it,” said Sophy mendaciously, “but you know how fond I am of Cecy! Then, too, I have been about the world and have learnt to take care of myself. Cecy is such an innocent! There is not a particle of harm in Augustus Fawnhope, and Francis Wolvey is by far too great a gentleman to go beyond the line. But you should not encourage so lovely a girl as your sister to stroll about the Park with the Dishonorable Alfred, Charles!”
He was so much taken aback that for a moment he did not say a word. Then he demanded an explanation.
“He is the kind of odious little toad who kisses the housemaids on the stairs,” replied Sophy frankly.
“My sister is not a housemaid!”
“No, and I do trust she will know how to keep him at arm’s length.”
“May I know whether you have the slightest grounds for bringing this charge against Wraxton?”
“If you mean, have I seen him kiss a housemaid, no, dear Charles, I have not. If, on the other hand, you mean, has he tried to kiss me, yes, dear Charles, he has. In this very room, too.”
He looked angry and mortified. “I am extremely sorry that you should have been annoyed in such a fashion under this roof,” he said, getting the words out with an effort.
“Oh, I don’t mind it! I told you I was able to take care of myself. But I doubt whether anyone could prevent his — his squeezing and stroking habits or convince him that the style of his conversation is quite improper.”
She had been taking off her pelisse as she spoke, and she now laid it aside and sat down in a winged chair beside the fireplace. After a moment he said, in a milder tone, “I shall not pretend that I have any liking for Wraxton, for I have not. So far as it lies within my power I shall certainly discourage his visits to this house. My situation is, however, as you said yourself, awkward. I would not, upon any account, have this come to Miss Wraxton’s ears.”
“No, indeed!” she said warmly. “For you to be telling tales of her brother to Miss Wraxton would be the shabbiest thing!”
He was leaning his arm along the mantelpiece and had been looking down into the fire, but at that he raised his head, and shot a penetrating glance at Sophy. She thought there was a good deal of comprehension in his eyes, but he only said, “Just so, Cousin.”
“Do not refine too much upon it!” she advised him kindly. “I do not mean to say that Cecy has a tendre for him, for she thinks him even more odious than I do.”
“I am well aware that she has no tendre for him. I thank you!” he retorted. “She is infatuated with that puppy, Fawnhope!”
“Of course she is,” said Sophy.
“I am also aware that you have made it your business from the day you entered this house to encourage this folly by every means within your reach! You and Cecilia have been constantly seen in Fawnhope’s company; you pretended he was a friend of yours so that he might have an excuse for calling here six days out of the seven; you — ”
“In a word, Charles, I have thrown them continually together. I have, and if you had a grain of sense you would have done so weeks before I came to town!”
He was arrested for a moment, and then asked incredulously, “Do you imagine by doing so you will cure Cecilia? Or that I am likely to believe you have any such intention in mind?”
“Well, I don’t know,” she answered, giving the matter some thought. “One of two things must happen, you know. Either she will grow weary of Augustus — and I must say I do think that very probable, because although he is so handsome and can be very engaging when he chooses, he is shockingly tiresome, besides forgetting Cecilia’s existence just when he should be most solicitous — or she will continue to love him, in spite of his faults. And if that happens, Charles, you will know that it is not an infatuation, and you will be obliged to consent to their marriage.”
“Never!” he said, with considerable violence.
“But you will,” she insisted. “It would be wicked to try to force her into another marriage, and you would be cruel to attempt it.”
“I shall not force her into any marriage!” he flashed. “It may interest you to know that I am extremely attached to Cecilia, and that it is for that reason, and not for any whim of my own, that I will not countenance her union with a man of Fawnhope’s stamp! As for this glib notion you have, that by throwing them together you will make Cecilia tire of him, you were never more mistaken! So far from tiring of his company, Cecilia seizes every opportunity to be alone with him! She is even so lost to all sense of propriety as to make Addy her dupe! Only this afternoon Miss Wraxton came upon her in a secluded path in the Park, alone with Fawnhope, having shaken off the restraint of Addy’s presence. Clandestine meetings! Pretty behavior in Miss Rivenhall of Ombersley, upon my word!”
“My dear Charles,” said Sophy, with unimpaired calm, “you know very well that you are making that up.”
“I am doing no such thing! Do you imagine I would make up such a tale about my sister?”
“To own the truth, I think you would do anything when you are in one of your rages,” she said, smiling. “There is no secret about her having walked with Fawnhope, but the rest of it springs from your disordered temper. Now, do not say that Miss Wraxton told you it was so, because I am sure she would never have told you such fibs about Cecilia! Shaken Addy off, indeed! She was never out of Addy’s sight for a moment! Good gracious, don’t you know Cecilia better than to be accusing her of clandestine behavior? What a very vulgar expression to use, to be sure! Do stop making such a cake of yourself! Next you will be ranting at Cecy for having allowed a respectable young man whom she has known, I daresay, since they were both children, to walk a little way beside her, under the eyes of her governess!”
Again she came und
er that hard scrutiny. “Do you know this for a fact?” he asked, in an altered tone.
“Certainly I do, for Cecy told me just what had occurred. It seems that Miss Wraxton said something to Addy which distressed her very much — no doubt she misunderstood it, Miss Wraxton perhaps felt that Addy should have sent Augustus about his business, though how she could have done so I hardly know! But she has a great deal of sensibility, you know, and is readily upset.”
He looked annoyed, and said, “Addy is not to be blamed; Cecilia is out of her control, and if she should have told my mother of these meetings — well, she was never one to carry tales of any of us!”
She said coaxingly, “Do show her that you are not angry with her, Charles, and don’t mean to turn her off after all these years!”
“Turn her off?” he echoed, astonished. “What nonsense is this, pray?”
“Exactly what I said to her! Only she has taken it into her head that she is too old-fashioned in her ways to instruct the children, and seems to think she should be able to teach them the Italian tongue, and all sorts of refinement of the same nature.”
There was a slight pause. Mr. Rivenhall sat down on the other side of the fireplace, and rather absently began to pull Tina’s ears. He was frowning, and presently said, at his curtest, “I have nothing whatsoever to say in the education of my sisters. It is my mother’s business, and I cannot conceive how it could ever belong to anyone else.”
Sophy saw no need to labor this point and merely agreed with him. He cast her a glance out of narrowed, searching eyes, but she preserved her countenance. He said, “None of this has anything to do with what I have been saying to you. We did very well, Cousin, before you began to turn this house upside down! I shall be obliged to you if, in the future — ”
“Why, what in the world have I done else?” she exclaimed.
He found himself quite unable to put into words the things that she had done and was obliged to fall back upon her only tangible crime. “You brought that monkey here, for one thing!” he said. “No doubt with the kindest of intentions! But it is a most unsuitable animal to have bestowed on the children, and now, of course, they will think themselves ill used when it is got rid of, as got rid of it must be!”
The Grand Sophy Page 11
