The Grand Sophy

by Джорджетт Хейер

  Sophy, who had led the way to a rustic seat, now urged him to sit down beside her on it. Tracing a pattern on gravel path with the point of her parasol, she said: “If it is money — and it nearly always is; it is the most odious thing — and you do not care to ask your papa for it, I expect I could help you.”

  “Much good it would be to ask my father!” said Huh “He hasn’t a feather to fly with, and what is so dashed unjust, when you consider, the only time I ever applied him he went into a worse rage than Charles does!”

  “Does Charles go into a rage?”

  “Oh, well! No, not precisely, but I don’t know but what I’d liefer he did!” replied Hubert bitterly.

  She nodded. “Then you don’t wish to approach him. Do, pray, tell me!”

  “Certainly not!” said Hubert, on his dignity. “Devilish good of you, Sophy, but I haven’t come to that yet!”

  “Come to what?” she demanded.

  “Borrowing money from females, of course! Besides, there’s no need. I shall come about, and before I go up to Oxford again, thank the lord!”

  “How?”

  “Never mind, but it can’t fail! If it does — but it will not! I may have a father who — well, no sense in talking of him! And I may have a dashed disagreeable brother, holding tightly to the purse strings, but fortunately for me I’ve a couple of good friends, whatever Charles may say!”

  “Oh!” said Sophy, digesting this information. Disagreeable Charles might be, but she was shrewd enough to suspect that if he condemned any of Hubert’s friends there might be much to be said in his defense. “Does he dislike your friends?”

  Hubert gave a short laugh. “Lord, yes! Just because they are knowing ’uns, and kick up a lark every now and then, he proses like a Methodist, and — Here, Sophy, you won’t start talking to Charles, will you?”

  “Of course I shall do no such thing!” she said indignantly. “Why, what a creature you must think me!”

  “No, I don’t, only — Oh, well, it don’t signify! I shall be as merry as a grig in a week’s time, and I don’t mean to get into a fix again, I can tell you!”

  She was obliged to be satisfied with this assurance, for he would say no more. After taking another turn round the shrubbery, she left him, and went back to the house. She found Mr. Rivenhall seated under the elm tree on the south lawn with Tina, who was sleeping off a large repast, at his feet. “If you want to see a rare picture, Sophy,” he said, “peep in at the drawing-room window! My mother is sound asleep on one sofa and the Marquesa on another.”

  “Well, if that is their notion of enjoyment I don’t think we should disturb them,” she replied. “It would not be mine, I do try to remember that some people like to spend half their days doing nothing at all.”

  He made room for her to sit down beside him. “No, I fancy idleness is not your besetting sin,” he agreed. “Sometimes I wonder whether it would not be better for the rest of us if it were, but we have agreed not to quarrel today, so I shall not pursue that thought. But, Sophy, what is my uncle about, to be marrying that absurd woman?”

  She wrinkled her brow. “She is very good natured, you know, and Sir Horace says he likes reposeful females.”

  “I am astonished that you have sanctioned so unsuitable a match.”

  “Nonsense! I have nothing to say to it.”

  “I imagine you have everything to say to it,” he retorted. “Don’t play off the airs of an innocent to me, Cousin! I know you well enough to be tolerably certain that you rule my uncle with a rod of iron and have probably guarded him from dozens of marquesas in your time!”

  She laughed. “Well, yes,” she admitted. “But, then, they would none of them have made the poor angel at all comfortable, and I do think perhaps Sancia may. I have long made up my mind to it that he should marry again, you know.”

  “Next you will say that this match is of your making!”

  “Oh, no! There is never the least need to make matches for Sir Horace!” she said frankly. “He is the most susceptible creature imaginable, and, which is so dangerous, if a pretty woman will but weep on his shoulder he will do anything she wants!”

  He did not reply, and she saw that his attention was fixed on Cecilia and Sir Vincent, who had that instant come round a corner of the clipped yew hedge. A slight frown descended on to his brow, which made Sophy say severely, “Now, don’t take one of your pets because Cecy flirts a little with Sir Vincent! You should be thankful to see her taking interest in some other man than Mr. Fawnhope. But there is no pleasing you!”

  “I am certainly not pleased with that connection!”

  “Oh, you have no cause to feel alarm! Sir Vincent is only interested in heiresses and has no intention of offering for Cecy.”

  “Thank you, it is not on that score that I feel alarm,” he answered.

  She could say no more, for by this time the other couple had come up to them. Cecilia, who was looking prettier than ever, described how Sir Vincent had been so obliging as to find a servant who gave him some maize for the pigeons. She had fed them, and her cousin thought she had taken far more delight in encouraging them to take maize from between her lips than in listening to Sir Vincent’s practiced compliments.

  They were soon joined by Hubert. He shot Sophy a glance so pregnant with mischief that in spite of his high shirt points, his elaborate neckcloth, and his fashionable waistcoat he looked very much more like a schoolboy than the town beau he fancied himself. She could not imagine what mischief he could have found to perform in the little time since she had left him, but before she could speculate very seriously on this problem her attention was diverted by the Marquesa, who appeared at the drawing-room window and made signs indicative of her desire that they should all come into the house. Civility obliged even Mr. Rivenhall to obey the summons.

  They found the Marquesa so much refreshed by her nap as to have become quite animated. Lady Ombersley had awakened from slumber, uttering the mystic words, Lotion of the Ladies of Denmark, which had operated so powerfully upon her hostess as to make her sit bolt upright upon her sofa, exclaiming, “But no! Better distilled water of green pineapples, I assure you!” By the time the party on the south lawn entered the house the two elder ladies had thoroughly explored every path known to them that led to the preservation of the complexion, and if they differed on such points as the value of raw veal laid on the face at night to remove wrinkles, they found themselves at one over the beneficial effects of chervil water and crushed strawberries.

  It now being at least two hours since the light marienda had been consumed, the Marquesa stood in urgent need of further sustenance, and warmly invited her guests to partake of tea and angel cakes. It was then that Lady Ombersley became aware of the absence of Miss Wraxton and Mr. Fawnhope from the gathering, and demanded to know where they were. Cecilia replied, with a shrug, that they were no doubt quoting poetry to each other in the wood; but when twenty minutes passed without their putting in an appearance not only Lady Ombersley, but her elder son also became a trifle restive. Then it was that Sophy remembered Hubert’s look of mischief. She glanced across at him and saw that his expression was so unconcerned as to be wholly incredible. In deep foreboding she made an excuse to change her seat to one beside his, and whispered, under cover of the general conversation, “You dreadful creature, what have you done?”

  “Locked them into the wood!” he whispered in return. “That will teach her to play propriety!”

  She had to bite back a laugh, but managed to say with suitable severity, “It will not do! If you have the key, give it to me so that no one will observe you!”

  He said, “What a spoilsport you are!” but soon found an opportunity to drop it into her lap, for although it had seemed, at the time, a splendid idea to lock the gate into the wood, he had been realizing for some minutes that to release the imprisoned couple without scandal might prove to be rather more difficult.

  “It is so unlike dear Eugenia!” said Lady Ombersley. “I cannot think w
hat they can be about!”

  “En verdad, it is not difficult to imagine!” remarked the Marquesa, rather amused. “So beautiful a young man and so romantic a scene!”

  “I will go and look for them,” said Mr. Rivenhall, getting up, and walking out of the room.

  Hubert began to look a little alarmed, but Sophy exclaimed suddenly, “I wonder if one of the gardeners can have locked the gate again, thinking that we had all left the wood! Excuse me, Sancia!”

  She overtook Mr. Rivenhall in the shrubbery, and called out, “So stupid! Sancia, you know, lives in dread of robbers and has trained all her servants never to leave a gate or a door unlocked! One of the gardeners, supposing us all to have gone back to the house, locked the gate into the wood. Gaston had the key; here it is!”

  A bend in the gravel walk brought the gates into the wood within view. Miss Wraxton was standing by them, and it was plain to the meanest intelligence that she was in no very amiable humor. Behind her, seated upon a bank, and absorbed in metrical composition, was Mr. Fawnhope, to all appearances divorced from the world. As Mr. Rivenhall fitted the key into the lock, Sophy said, “I am so sorry! It is all the fault of Sancia’s absurd terrors! Are you very bored and chilled, Miss Wraxton?”

  Miss Wraxton had endured a trying half hour. Upon finding herself shut into the wood, she had first asked Mr. Fawnhope if he could not climb over the fence, and when he had replied, quite simply, that he could not, she had requested him to shout. But the ode that was burgeoning in his head had by this time taken possession of him, and he had said that the sylvan setting was just the inspiration he needed. After that, he sat down on the bank and drew out his notebook and a pencil, and whenever she begged him to bestir himself to procure her release, all he said, and that in a voice that showed how far away were his thoughts, was “hush!” Consequently she was in a mood ripe for murder when the rescue party at last arrived on the scene and was betrayed into an unwise accusation. “You did this!” she flung at Sophy, quite white with anger.

  Sophy, who felt sorry for her being discovered in so ridiculous a situation, replied soothingly, “No, it was a foolish servant, who thought we had all gone back to the house. Never mind! Come and drink some of Sancia’s excellent tea!”

  “I don’t believe you! You are unprincipled and vulgar and — ”

  “Eugenia!” said Mr. Rivenhall sharply. She gave an angry sob, but said no more. Sophy went into the wood to rouse Mr. Fawnhope from his abstraction, and Mr. Rivenhall said: “It was nothing but an accident, and there is no need to be so put out.”

  “I am persuaded your cousin did it to make me a laughing stock,” she said in a low voice.

  “Nonsense!” he replied coldly.

  She saw that he was by no means in sympathy with her, and said, “I need hardly tell you that my aim was to prevent your sister spending the whole afternoon in that odious young man’s company.”

  “With the result that she spent it in Talgarth’s company,” he retorted. “There was no reason for you to be so busy, Eugenia. My mother’s presence, not to mention my own, made your action — I shall say unnecessary!”

  It might have been supposed that these words of censure filled Miss Wraxton’s cup to the brim, but upon entering the drawing room she found that she had still to endure the Marquesa’s comments. The Marquesa favored the company with a disquisition on the license allowed to young English ladies, contrasting it with the strict chaperonage of Spanish damsels, and everyone with the exception of Mr. Rivenhall, who was markedly silent, felt for Miss Wraxton in her chagrin and made great efforts to placate her, Sophy going so far as to give up her place in the curricle to her on the homeward journey. She was insensibly mollified, but when, later, she tried to justify her actions to her betrothed, he cut her short, saying too much noise had been made already over a trivial occurrence.

  “I cannot believe that any of the servants were responsible,” she insisted.

  “You would do better to pretend to believe it, however.”

  “Then you do not think so either!” she exclaimed.

  “No, I think Hubert did it,” he replied coolly. “And if I am right, you have my cousin to thank for speedily releasing you.”

  “Hubert!” she cried. “Why should he do such an un-gentlemanly thing, pray?”

  He shrugged. “Possibly for a jest, possibly because he resented your interference in Cecilia’s affairs, my dear Eugenia. He is much attached to his sister.”

  She said in a deeply mortified tone, “If that is so, I hope you mean to take him to task!”

  “I shall do nothing so ill judged,” responded Mr. Rivenhall, at his most blighting.

  Chapter 9

  SHORTLY AFTER this not entirely successful day in country, Mr. Rivenhall announced his intention of going down to Ombersley for a spell. His mother had no objection to advance, but realizing that the dread moment of disclosure had now come, said, with an assumption of calm she was far from feeling, that she hoped he would come back to London in time to attend Sophy’s party.

  “Is it so important?” he asked. “I have no turn for dancing, Mama, and such an evening as you will no doubt pass is of all things the most insipid!”

  “Well, it is rather important,” she confessed. “It would be thought strange if you were absent, dear Charles!”

  “Good heavens, Mama, I have been absent from all such affairs in this house!”

  “As a matter of fact, this party is to be a little larger than we first thought it would be!” she said desperately.

  He bent one of his disconcerting stares upon her. “Indeed! I had collected that some twenty persons were to be invited?”

  “There — there will be a few more than that!” she said.

  “How many more?”

  She became intent on disentangling the fringe of her shawl from the arm of her chair. “Well, we thought perhaps it would be best — since it is our first party for your cousin, and your uncle particularly desired me to launch her upon society — to give a set ball, Charles! And your father promises to bring the Duke of York to it, if only for half an hour! It seems he is well acquainted with Horace. I am sure it is most gratifying!”

  “How many persons, ma’am, have you invited to this precious ball?” demanded Mr. Rivenhall, ungratified.

  “Not — not above four hundred!” faltered his guilty parent. “And they will not all of them come, dear Charles!”

  “Four hundred!” he ejaculated. “I need not ask whose doing this is! And who, ma’am, is to foot the bill for this entertainment?”

  “Sophy — that is to say, your uncle, of course! I assure you the cost is not to come upon you!”

  He was not in the least soothed by this, but, on the contrary, rapped out: “Do you imagine I will permit that wretched girl to pay for parties in this house? If you have been mad enough, ma’am, to consent to this scheme — ” Lady Ombersley prudently sought refuge in tears, and began to grope for her smelling salts. Her son eyed her in a baffled way, and said with painstaking restraint, “Pray do not cry, Mama! I am well aware whom I have to thank for this.”

  An interruption, welcome to Lady Ombersley, occurred in the shape of Selina, who bounced into the room, exclaiming: “Oh, Mama! When we gave the ball for Cecilia, did we — ” She then perceived her eldest brother, and broke off short, looking extremely conscious.

  “Go on!” said Mr. Rivenhall grimly.

  Selina gave her head a slight toss. “I suppose you know all about Sophy’s ball. Well, I am sure I don’t care, for you cannot stop it now that all the cards of invitation have gone out, and three hundred and eighty-seven persons have accepted! Mama, Sophy says that when she and Sir Horace held a great reception in Vienna, Sir Horace warned the police officers of it, so that they were able to keep the street clear, and tell the coachmen where to go, and so on. Did we not do the same for Cecilia’s ball?”

  “Yes, and the link boys as well,” replied Lady Ombersley, emerging briefly from her handkerchief, but retiring
into its protection again immediately.

  “Yes, Mama, and the champagne!” said Selina, determined to discharge the whole of her errand. “Should it be ordered from Gunter’s, with all the rest?”

  “You may inform our cousin,” interrupted Mr. Rivenhall, “that the champagne will be provided from our own cellars!” He then turned his shoulder on his young sister, and demanded of his parent, “How does it come about that Eugenia has not mentioned this affair to me? Has she not been invited to your ball?”

  One desperately inquiring eye emerged from the handkerchief wildly seeking enlightenment of Selina.

  “Good gracious, Charles!” said that damsel, shocked. “Can you have forgotten the bereavement in Miss Wraxton’s family? I am sure if she has told us once she has told us a dozen times that propriety forbids her to attend any but the most quiet parties!”

  “This, too, is my cousin’s work, I collect!” he said, his lips tightening. “I must say, ma’am, I might have expected, if you were bent on this folly, that you would have sent a card to my promised wife!”

  “Of course, Charles, of course!” said Lady Ombersley. “If it has not been done, it is a foolish oversight! Thought it is perfectly true that Eugenia has told us that while she is in black gloves — ”

  “Oh, Mama, don’t!” cried Selina impetuously. “You know she will cast a damper over everything, with that long face of hers, just like a horse — ”

  “How dare you?” interrupted Mr. Rivenhall furiously.

  Selina looked a little frightened, but muttered, “Well, she does, whatever you may choose to think, Charles!”

  “More of my cousin’s work, no doubt!”

  Selina flushed, and cast down her eyes. Mr. Rivenhall turned to his mother. “Be so good as to tell me, ma’am, in what manner this affair is arranged between you and Sophy! Does she give you a draft on my uncle’s bank, or what?”

  “I — I don’t precisely know!” said Lady Ombersley. “I mean, it has not been discussed yet! Indeed, Charles, I did not know myself until just the other day that so many people had been invited!”