The Grand Sophy

by Georgette Heyer

  She smiled, but said: ‘Well, you need not be, for I mean to help you.’

  ‘That is what terrifies me.’

  ‘Nonsense! You are trying to quiz me. We have established that you can procure chairs in a rainstorm; I am also of the opinion that when you invite a party to supper at the Piazza the waiters do not fob you off with a table in a draught.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed, regarding her with a fascinated eye.

  ‘Augustus, of course, is not in a position to invite us to supper at the Piazza, because my aunt would certainly not permit us to accept, but he did once entertain us to tea here, in the Park, and I could not but see that he is just the kind of man whom the waiters serve last. I feel sure I can rely upon you to see to it that everything goes without the least hitch when you invite us to the theatre, and to supper afterwards. You will be obliged, of course, to invite my aunt as well, but –’

  ‘For heaven’s sake!’ he interrupted. ‘You cannot suppose that in the situation in which we now stand Cecilia would consent to make one of a party of my making!’

  ‘Certainly I do,’ she replied coolly. ‘What is more, you will invite Augustus.’

  ‘No, that I will not!’ he declared.

  ‘Then you will be a great gaby. You must understand that Cecilia has been driven into announcing that she means to marry Augustus! You were not there to engage her affections; Augustus was sighing verses to her left eyebrow; and to clinch the matter my cousin Charles behaved in the most tyrannical fashion, forbidding her to think of Augustus, and fairly ordering her to marry you! I assure you, it would have been wonderful indeed if she had not made up her mind to do no such thing!’

  He rode in silence beside her for some moments, frowning between his horse’s ears. ‘I see,’ he said at last. ‘At least – Well, at all events, you don’t advise me to despair!’

  ‘I don’t suppose,’ said Sophy honestly, ‘that I should ever advise anyone to despair, for I can’t bear such poor-spirited conduct!’

  ‘What do you advise me to do?’ he asked. ‘I seem to be wholly in your hands!’

  ‘Withdraw your suit!’ said Sophy.

  He looked sharply at her. ‘No! I mean to make a push –’

  ‘You will call in Berkeley Square this afternoon,’ said Sophy, with an utmost patience, ‘and you will request the favour of a few minutes alone with Cecilia. When you see her –’

  ‘I shall not see her. She will deny herself !’ he said bitterly.

  ‘She will see you, because I shall tell her she owes it to you to do so. I wish you will not keep on interrupting me!’ He begged pardon meekly, and she continued: ‘When you see her, you will assure her that you have no desire to distress her, that you will never mention the matter again to her. You will be excessively noble, and she will feel that you sympathize with her, and if you can convey to her also the sense of your heart being broken, however well you contrive to conceal it, so much the better!’

  ‘I am strongly of the opinion that Major Quinton grossly understated the case!’ said his lordship, with feeling.

  ‘Very likely. Gentlemen can never see when a little duplicity is needed. You, I have no doubt, if I left you to your own devices, would storm and rant at Cecilia, so that all would end in a quarrel, and you would find it quite impossible to visit the house, even! But if she knows that you will not enact her tragedies she will be perfectly pleased to see you as often as you care to come to Berkeley Square.’

  ‘How can I visit in Berkeley Square when she is betrothed to another man? If you imagine that I’ll play the love-lorn suitor in the hope of arousing pity in Cecilia’s breast you were never more at fault! As well be a lap-dog!’

  ‘Much better,’ said Sophy. ‘You will visit in Berkeley Square to see me. You cannot too suddenly seem to transfer your interest in my direction, of course, but it would be an excellent start if you were to find an opportunity of telling Cecilia today how droll and entertaining you think me.’

  ‘Do you know,’ he said seriously, ‘you are the most startling female it has ever been my fortune to meet? You will observe that I do not say good or ill fortune, for I haven’t the smallest notion which it will prove to be!’

  She laughed. ‘But will you do what I tell you?’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘To the best of my poor ability. But I wish I knew the extent of the dark scheme you are revolving in your head.’

  She turned her head to look at him, her expressive eyes questioning, and at the same time acknowledging a hit. ‘But I have told you!’

  ‘I have a notion there is more to it than what you have told me.’

  She looked mischievous, but would only shake her head. They had reached the Stanhope Gate again, and she reined in, holding out her hand. ‘I must go now. Pray don’t be afraid of me! I never do people any harm – indeed I don’t! Goodbye! At about four o’clock, mind!’

  She reached Berkeley Square to find the house in a state of considerable uneasiness, Lord Ombersley, informed by his wife of Cecilia’s overnight announcement, having flown into a passion of exasperation at the folly, ingratitude, and selfishness of daughters; and Hubert and Theodore between them having chosen this singularly inappropriate moment to allow Jacko to escape from the schoolroom. Sophy was met on her arrival by various distracted persons, who lost no time in pouring their woes or grievances into her ears. Cecilia, shaken by the interview with her father, wanted to carry her off instantly to the seclusion of her bedchamber; Miss Adderbury wished to explain that she had repeatedly warned Mr Hubert not to excite the monkey; Theodore desired to impress upon everyone that it had all been Hubert’s fault; Hubert demanded that she should help him to recover the monkey before its escape came to Charles’s ears; and Dassett, having observed with disfavour the enthusiasm with which both footmen entered into the chase, delivered himself of an icily civil monologue, the gist of which seemed to be that Wild Animals roaming at large in a Nobleman’s Residence were not what he had been accustomed to, or what he could bring himself to tolerate. As this speech contained a dark threat to Inform His Lordship instantly, it appeared to Sophy that her most pressing duty was to soothe Dassett’s feelings, half a dozen persons having informed her that Lord Ombersley was in a dreadful temper. So she told Cecilia that she would come to her room presently, and considerably mollified the butler by rejecting the services of the footmen. Cecilia, who besides her interview with Lord Ombersley, had endured a few moments with her elder brother, and half an hour with Lady Ombersley, was in no mood for monkeys, and said, rather hysterically, that she supposed she might have expected that Jacko would be thought of more importance than herself. Selina, who was thoroughly enjoying the atmosphere of drama and impending doom that hung over the house, hissed: ‘H’sh! Charles is in the library!’ Cecilia retorted that she did not care where he was, and rushed upstairs to her bedroom.

  ‘What a commotion!’ exclaimed Sophy, amused.

  Her voice, penetrating the shut library door, reached the sharp ears of Tina, who, during her absence from the house, had attached herself to Mr Rivenhall. She at once demanded to be allowed to rejoin her mistress, and her insistence brought Mr Rivenhall upon the scene, for he was obliged to open the door for her. Perceiving that a large part of his family appeared to be assembled in the hall, he somewhat coldly enquired the reason. Before anyone could answer him, Amabel, in the basement, gave a warning shriek, Jacko suddenly erupted into the hall from the nether regions, gibbered at the sight of Tina, and swarmed up the window curtains to a place of safety well out of anyone’s reach. Amabel then came storming up the basement-stairs, closely followed by the housekeeper, who at once lodged an impassioned protest with Mr Rivenhall. The dratted monkey, she said, had wantonly destroyed two of the best dishclothes, and had scattered a bowl of raisins all over the kitchen-floor.

  ‘If that damned monkey cannot be controlled,’ said Mr Rivenhall, making no apology for the violence of his language, ‘it must be got rid of !’

  Theodore, Gertrude, and Am
abel at once burst into a spirited accusation against Hubert, who, they averred, had wantonly teased Jacko. Hubert, conscious of a rent coat-pocket, retired into the background, and Mr Rivenhall, eyeing his juniors with revulsion, walked forward to the window, and held up his hand, saying calmly: ‘Come along!’

  Jacko’s reply to this, though voluble, was incomprehensible. His general attitude, however, was contumacious, so that everyone was surprised when, upon Mr Rivenhall’s repeating his command, he began to descend the curtain. Tina, in wholehearted agreement with Dassett and the housekeeper on the undesirability of monkeys in noblemen’s residences, caused a slight set-back by barking, but Sophy snatched her up and muffled her before Jacko had had time to retreat again to the top of the window. Mr Rivenhall, acidly requesting his audience to refrain from making any noise or sudden movement, again commanded Jacko to come down. Jacko, satisfied that Tina was under strong guard, reluctantly descended, allowed himself to be seized, and clasped both skinny arms round Mr Rivenhall’s neck. Unimpressed by this mark of affection, Mr Rivenhall detached him, handed him over to Gertrude, and warned her not to permit him to escape again. The schoolroom party then withdrew circumspectly, scarcely able to believe that their pet was not to be wrested from them; and Sophy, smiling warmly upon Mr Rivenhall, said: ‘Thank you! There is some magic in you which makes all animals trust you, I think. When I am most vexed with you I cannot but remember it!’

  ‘The only magic, cousin, lay in not alarming an already frightened animal,’ he replied dampingly, and went back into the library, and shut the door.

  ‘Phew!’ uttered Hubert, emerging from the embrasure at the head of the basement-stairs. ‘Sophy, only look what that dashed brute has done to my new coat!’

  ‘Give it to me! I’ll mend it for you – and for heaven’s sake, you wretched creature, don’t kick up any more larks today!’ said Sophy.

  He grinned at her, stripped off the coat, and handed it to her. ‘What did happen last night?’ he asked. ‘Don’t know when I’ve seen my father in such a taking! Is Cecilia going to marry Fawnhope?’

  ‘Ask her!’ Sophy advised him. ‘I will have your coat ready for you in twenty minutes: come to my room then, and you shall have it!’

  She ran up the stairs and, without waiting to change her riding-habit, sat down by the window to repair the rent caused by Jacko’s fury. She was a deft needlewoman, and had mended half the tear with her tiny stitches when Cecilia came to her room. Cecilia was strongly of the opinion that Hubert might have found someone else to do his mending, and begged her to put it aside. This, however, Sophy refused to do, merely saying: ‘I can listen to you while I work, you know. What a goose you were last night, Cecy!’

  This brought Cecilia’s chin up. She enunciated with great clarity; ‘I am betrothed to Augustus, and if I may not marry him I will marry no one!’

  ‘I daresay, but to make such an announcement in the middle of a ball!’

  ‘Sophy, I thought you would feel for me!’

  It occurred to Sophy suddenly that the fewer people to sympathize with Cecilia the better it would be, so she kept her head bent over her work, and said lightly: ‘Well, and so I do, but I still think it was a ridiculous moment to choose for making such an announcement!’

  Cecilia began to tell her again what provocation had been supplied by Charles; she agreed, but absently, and appeared to be more exercised with the set of Hubert’s coat than with Cecilia’s wrongs. She shook it out, smoothed the darn she had made, and, when Hubert came knocking at the door, cut Cecilia short to jump up and restore the garment to him. The end of all this was that when, at four o’clock, Lord Charlbury sent up his card, with a request to see Miss Rivenhall, Cecilia, almost forced to accede to his wishes, found in him her only sympathizer. One glance at her pale face, and tragic mouth, banished from his mind all notion of duplicity. He stepped quickly forward, took the hand so shrinkingly held out to him, and said in a deeply concerned voice. ‘Do not look so unhappy! Indeed, I have not come to distress you!’

  Her eyes filled with tears; her hand slightly returned the pressure of his before it was withdrawn; and she managed to say something in a suffocated voice, about his kindness, and her own regret. He obliged her to be seated, himself took a chair near to hers, and said: ‘My sentiments have undergone no change: indeed, I believe it to be impossible that they should! But I have been told – I have understood – that yours were never engaged. Believe me, if you cannot return my regard, I honour you for having the courage to say so! That you should be constrained to accept my suit, when your heart is given to another, is a thought wholly repugnant to me! Forgive me! I think you have had to bear a great deal on this head which I never intended, or indeed, dreamed – But I have said enough! Only let me assure you that I will do all that lies in my power to put an end to such intolerable promptings!’

  ‘You are all consideration – all goodness!’ Cecilia uttered. ‘I am so sorry that – that expectations which it is not in my power to fulfil should have been raised! If my gratitude for a sensibility which permits you to feel for me in my present predicament, for a chivalry which –’ Her voice became wholly suspended by tears; she could only turn away her face, and make a gesture imploring his understanding.

  He took her hand, and kissed it. ‘Say no more! I always thought the prize beyond my reach. Though you deny me that nearer relationship which I so ardently desire, we may continue friends? If there is any way in which I can serve you, will you tell me of it? That would be a happiness indeed!’

  ‘Oh, do not say so! You are too good!’

  The door opened. Mr Rivenhall came into the room, checked an instant on the threshold, when he saw Charlbury, and looked as though he would have retired again. Charlbury rose, however, and said: ‘I am glad you are at home, Charles, for I believe I can settle this business better with you than with anyone. Your sister and I have agreed that we shall not suit.’

  ‘I see,’ said Mr Rivenhall, dryly. ‘There seems to be nothing I can profitably say, except that I am sorry. I conclude that you wish me to inform my father that there is to be no engagement?’

  ‘Lord Charlbury has been everything that is most kind – most magnanimous!’ whispered Cecilia.

  ‘That I can believe,’ responded Mr Rivenhall.

  ‘Nonsense!’ Charlbury said, taking her hand. ‘I shall leave you now, but I hope I may still visit this house, on terms of friendship. Your friendship I must always value, you know. Perhaps I may not dance at your wedding, but I shall wish you very happy, upon my honour!’

  He pressed her hand, released it, and went out of the room, followed by Mr Rivenhall, who escorted him downstairs to the hall, saying: ‘This is a damnable business, Everard. She is out of her senses! But as for marrying that puppy – no, by God!’

  ‘Your cousin tells me it is all my fault for having wilfully contracted mumps!’ Charlbury said ruefully.

  ‘Sophy!’ Mr Rivenhall ejaculated, in anything but loving accents. ‘I do not think we have had a day’s peace since that girl entered the house!’

  ‘I shouldn’t think you would,’ said his lordship, reflectively. ‘She is the oddest female I ever met, but I own I like her! Do you not?’

  ‘No, I do not!’ said Mr Rivenhall.

  He saw Charlbury off the premises, and turned back into the house just as Hubert came down the stairs, in long bounds. ‘Hallo, where are you off to in such haste?’ he enquired.

  ‘Oh, nowhere!’ Hubert answered. ‘Just out!’

  ‘When do you go up to Oxford again?’

  ‘Next week. Why?’

  ‘Do you care to go with me to Thorpe Grange tomorrow? I must go down, and shall stay a night, I daresay.’

  Hubert shook his head. ‘No, I can’t. I’m off to stay with Harpenden for a couple of nights, you know.’

  ‘I didn’t. Newmarket?’

  Hubert flushed. ‘Dash it, why should I not go to Newmarket, if I choose?’

  ‘There is no reason why you should not, b
ut I could wish that you would choose your company more wisely. Are you set on it? We could ride over from Thorpe, if you liked.’

  ‘Very good of you, Charles, but I’m promised to Harpenden, and can’t fail now!’ Hubert said gruffly.

  ‘Very well. Don’t draw the bustle too much!’

  Hubert hunched his shoulder. ‘I knew you would say that!’

  ‘I’ll say something else, and you may believe it! I can’t and I won’t be saddled with your racing debts, so don’t bet beyond your means!’

  He waited for no answer, but went upstairs again to the drawing-room, where he found his sister still seated where he had left her, weeping softly into a shred of a handkerchief. He tossed his own into her lap. ‘If you must be a watering-pot, take mine!’ he recommended. ‘Are you satisfied? You should be! It is not every girl who can boast of having rejected a man like Charlbury!’

  ‘I do not boast of it!’ she retorted, firing up. ‘But I care nothing for wealth and position! Where my affections are not engaged –’

  ‘You might care for worth of character, however! You could search England without finding a better fellow, Cecilia. Don’t flatter yourself you have found one in your poet! I wish you may not live to regret this day’s work.’

  ‘I am aware that Lord Charlbury has every amiable quality,’ she said, in a subdued voice, and mopping her wet cheeks with his handkerchief. ‘Indeed, I believe him to be the finest gentleman of my acquaintance, and if I am crying it is from sorrow at having been obliged to wound him!’

  He walked over to the window, and stood looking out into the square. ‘It is useless now to remonstrate with you. After your announcement last night it is not very likely that Charlbury would desire to marry you. What do you mean to do? I may tell you now that my father will not consent to your marriage with Fawnhope.’

  ‘Because you will not let him consent! Can you not be content, Charles, with making a marriage of convenience yourself, without wishing me to do the same?’ she cried hotly.