Looking from one to another of her accusers, Serena inquired miserably how Antonia had found out.
“I went round to order some new lace, to put into my old blue gown, and to see if the balance of our things were ready. Madame was in quite a wild mood, and was very nearly rude! When I could understand her—for she spoke mainly in rapid French—I discovered that she thought I had come to cancel my new gowns! And when I asked her why she should think anything of the kind, she replied that that is exactly what you had done!”
“Tut!” exclaimed Lady Pendleton, when there had been silence in the room for several seconds. “Tut, my dear! And just when everythin’ was goin’ along so well!”
Serena looked as mortified as she felt, and said nothing. A little calmer after her outburst, Antonia rose to her feet, and commenced walking up and down. “Forgive me, Auntie Winnie,” she said at last. “I did not mean to make a scene. But it really is too bad of you, Rena! To spoil all our plans like that!”
“What plans?” inquired Serena, blinking.
“Why, nothin’, child!” chirped her ladyship quickly. “Nothin’ at all! Antonia only meant that you looked so well in your new things, that it is a pity to wear anythin’ less becomin’. I am sure that is all, was it not, pet?”
“Well, I really do not know what to say!” exclaimed Serena, nearly in tears. “I had no notion it would upset you both so much! I only wanted to be a little careful, and I did not think it would hurt anyone else. In fact, I had half made up my mind to get some new things in any case, for I did not realize at first how much use I should be making of them. I shall go at once, if you like!”
Repenting of her severity, Antonia rushed to her cousin’s side and hugged her. “Oh, dear—you ought to really! Think how much it will please Mr. Lytton-Smythe! He admires you so much, you know! There now: you must not be unhappy. I was only a little astonished, that is all. And I was so pleased when you seemed to want to get yourself up nicely. You looked absolutely heavenly last night—everyone said so.”
Antonia could be as sweet as an angel, and having once set her mind to soothe over the hurt she had caused, she did not leave off till Serena seemed composed once more, and then she urged her to come upstairs, that she might brush her hair and bathe her forehead. Tomorrow would be time enough to go to Madame Violet’s. Tonight they should devise something pretty for her to wear. Of course she could not wear that same indigo gown, in case anyone should notice, and think she had no other.
“I don’t see that that matters much, my dears,” remarked Lady Pendleton. “Tut! Let them think what they like!”
So the cousins went upstairs, making a very pretty picture, with their arms linked, and their heads together, and leaving her ladyship staring after them with mixed emotions. It was not until some while later that she realized she had not told them they were to meet their cousin, Viscount Rollins, that evening, for the gentleman was expected to dine at six o’clock.
Upstairs, however, our heroines were already speaking of other things. Antonia, in one of those bursts of penitence which often overcame her, when she found to her amazement and shame that she had hurt someone she loved by a thoughtless word or action, was confessing that she had made Serena the scapegoat for her own vexation.
“I am so sorry, darling!” she cried, seeing her cousin’s still unhappy face, “Why do I go on so? I should rather die than see you miserable!”
“Never mind, Antonia. I ought to have thought more carefully. It was silly of me to have cancelled those gowns. I never thought I should need so many new clothes!”
Antonia, bent over Serena’s head, was brushing at the mass of auburn hair for all the world as if the motion of her arm could erase her previous severity.
“I oughtn’t to have spoken so sharply! It was only that—well, to be frank, Rena, I was rather disappointed myself. You see—I had no opportunity of telling you this morning—I had made an engagement to go riding in the park this afternoon. I was to have met Lord Blandford at the gate at two o’clock—but he never came! I suppose I mistook the day, though I am sure he said ‘tomorrow’—and so, when I had waited for half an hour, and was half numb with cold, I went to Madame Violet’s to cheer myself up. It was then she told me about your orders to her—for I was in half a mind to bring everything back to you, thinking it would please you!”
“Oh, Antonia!” exclaimed Serena, who had turned about. “Not Lord Blandford!”
“Why ever not?” demanded Antonia, with a little toss of her head. “He is by far the handsomest man I have seen in London, and a great deal more pleasant than he first struck me!”
Serena watched her cousin in dismay, noting the little defiant toss, and the stubborn look in her eye. Sighing, she murmured,
“Do you think it quite right that he should have agreed to meet you at the park gates? Surely he ought to have come here to fetch you, if he wished to be civil?”
“I know nothing about civility in London, Rena—at home, it is perfectly civil to meet a gentleman, upon horseback, at the gates to a park! Why, it is not exactly as if he had impugned my honor!”
“No, darling—of course not! Still, I think he might have offered to come and fetch you here! After all, had he done so, you would not have run the risk of catching cold whilst you waited!”
“I am determined it was I who made the mistake, Serena. Blandford was everything courteous and civil last evening. Why, he paid me far more attention than Mr. Howard! I do wish you would talk to him a little, dear—for I am sure he improves upon acquaintance. He is a marquis, you know.”
“And does that make him a gentleman?” inquired Serena, so innocently that the irony was scarcely noticeable.
“Of course not! But he is one, of course!” And then, with a teasing look at her cousin, she added, “Oh, not such a gentleman as Lytton-Smythe! I should not venture that far!”
“Mr. Lytton-Smythe is everything gentlemanlike,” agreed Serena. “And he is exceeding sensible, too, to what is proper. I was myself in danger of making several errors last evening, which might have cost me in the eyes of our English friends, had he not most kindly set me right.”
Antonia looked perfectly amazed. “You! Do anything unladylike, Rena! I shall not believe it!”
“Not unladylike, Antonia—at least, I hope not—but such kinds of things as might have made our welcome here less warm. It never occurred to me how many fine distinctions there might be between manners at home and in England. I suppose the fact we share a language and a heritage blinded me to the fact. But the English appear to have some ideas not quite our own. If we are to make ourselves welcome, we ought to honor them.”
“I have every intention of making myself welcome, Serena! But I do not see how riding in Hyde Park with the Marquis of Blandford could injure me! Quite the contrary—I think it would do more to raise their odious estimation of me than if I did not! You see how they care for their titles and their importance—I am sure our cousin, who is a mere earl, should judge us far better, were we to prove we were liked by a marquis!”
“And is it only for that you agreed to go?” inquired Rena softly.
Now her cousin gave a little more marked exhibition of defiance. “Certainly not! I like Blandford very well, and he—he amuses me!”
“More than Mr. Howard, I suppose!”
Antonia looked a little taken aback. “I did not mean to be unkind to Mr. Howard, by liking Lord Blandford,” said Antonia. “Although I see by your look that you think I was unkind. However, if Mr. Howard wished me to ride with him, he ought to have asked.”
“You did not,” said Serena, “give him much opportunity. I do not mean to be a judge of your conduct, Tony—but you did not, in truth, treat him very well last evening. It is so plain he admires you exceedingly—it would be very kind of you to show him a little gratitude.”
Antonia now had cause to feel remorse, and to wish she had been a little kinder to her cousin. But in truth her feelings had been so swept away by the attentions of
Lord Blandford—who really seemed to have laid siege to her heart—that she had forgotten everything else. She could not fathom why such emotions as had been coursing through her all day should make her guilty, but they did. Her first reaction to Serena’s questions had been defiance, and now she felt herself more defiant still, as if she were defending some wrongdoing.
Well! But what could be wrong with liking a handsome man, who liked one, too, it seemed, most heartily? Only Antonia keenly wished now she had not agreed to meet him like that, but had held out for his coming to collect her at Cadogan Place. The plan had not seemed ill-favored the night before, but having waited in the cold so long by herself, and felt the curious stares of passers-by, she now saw the fallacy of it. She dearly wished she had overridden his insistence upon meeting at the gates. But Blandford had had such a way with words, and with her heart—in the course of one evening, he had quite swept her off her feet—and judging from his quite plain looks, she thought he was himself not a little fascinated.
It was a great boon to her vanity to be thus admired by a man who seemed to create such a stir wherever he went; the looks and whispers which had followed him—and herself—had not been lost upon her. A Captain of the Guards she had danced with had told her Lord Blandford was the most emulated man in London. Antonia was herself well used to admiration from the gentlemen she met—but even she could not be indifferent to the regard of such a man as that! And when he had suggested he might take her riding in the park, she had felt a quickening of her heart; how could she overcome his objections to meeting at Cadogan Place, put so wittily as “likely to upset his digestion for at least a week, for he had seen Lady Pendleton’s house once, and another glimpse of those wall-hangings would certainly prostrate him for life?” He had given her, besides, with a gentle pressure of his hand upon her arm, the idea that he had no desire to see anyone save her—and how could she object to that?
Only now, her feet still cold from her long wait, did it strike Antonia as having been not quite proper in either of them to agree to such a meeting. The effect of this was about the same as when her father regarded her with half-closed eyes: it made her defiant, and wish more strongly than ever to do as she liked. She did feel a little twinge of guilt at having treated Mr. Howard rather shabbily, but she would make it up to him. However, she would not give off liking Lord Blandford, simply to flatter him!
This she declared with some feeling, and Serena, seeing her cousin was quite determined to do as she liked, gave up with a sigh. “Do be careful, dear,” was all she ventured, “for you do not wish to antagonize our English cousins, I know.”
“Ah, Rena, that is the best part of it!” exclaimed Antonia. “Lord Blandford is an intimate friend of the Viscount Rollins. I told him all about our desire to make friends with that family, and he assured me it should be easily done. His country seat adjoins the park at Widcomb, which is the Earl of Cumberford’s abode, and he said, as he saw the Earl pretty frequently, he should make certain we were given a good notice before we meet him. He even suggested, that we might pay a visit to Widcomb, in which case he should be in a wonderfully easy position to take care of our amusement!”
Such news did little to cheer Serena. Had she feared before a visit to their cousin, because they might not be welcome, she now feared it even more, in case they were too much welcomed by the Marquis!
With only Mr. Lytton-Smythe’s equivocal warning, however, to make her think ill of Lord Blandford, she could not very well set Antonia against him. Though she might consider his gentlest admonishment worth taking to heart, it was plain Antonia would not. And so, with a sinking feeling, she listened to her cousin’s gay chatter, and afterward, submitted to being made a dressmaker’s doll for half an hour, till Antonia was satisfied that she had so altered the indigo ballgown, it should be hardly recognizable by anyone save themselves.
Chapter XVII
St. John Howard, the Viscount Rollins, made his appearance at Cadogan Place promptly at six o’clock. He was not in a particularly happy frame of mind, for his day had not gone anything like as well as he had envisioned. Instead of being made to feel an intimate friend of Lord Blandford’s, as he had hoped, instead of being hailed by one and all in Hyde Park as a new defender of the title of “Blandford’s best friend,” he had been snubbed. He had ridden home—cold, tired, and out of sorts—to find that his cook, poor as she was, had given notice, and that a letter had come from his senior minister at the House of Lords, rebuking him for his speech of the day before. Suddenly, his house in Mount Street—which had once struck him as the most elegant place he ever saw—looked shabby. He noticed a scuff mark upon the tiles in the front drawing room, and took a sudden aversion to the color of the rooms. His valet had laid out the wrong waistcoat, and had brought him five soiled cravats in a row. His dancing shoes pinched his feet, and his stomach ailed him. In a most disagreeable frame of mind did he set out for the evening, and rather sulkily learned that he was to wait for his aunt, who had not come downstairs as yet.
Standing before the hearth, with his hands clasped behind his back, he scowled at things in general. What was he, to be kept waiting so long? Lady Pendleton ought to have received him rather better. He hoped she was not going to give him one of her long-winded lectures about his uncle. He could not abide hearing those tales of daring-do which his aunt loved recounting, particularly as Lord Pendleton had never treated him very well. St. John was quite pleased his own father had snubbed her so roundly when his eldest son had received nothing in the bequest. What could his aunt want with so much money? He was sure he could have put it to much better use than a dowager marchioness without any children. His uncle had been perfectly bull-headed not to have endowed him! Still, St. John held some hope that one day his aunt might see the light, and leave her fortune to himself. Posh, thought he, scowling harder, not very like! She quite dotes upon Freddy: I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if she did not leave the whole kit and caboodle to him!
With this thought, which pleased the Viscount not at all, he turned around, just in time to see the door swing open, and a slither of lilac silk appear. Bracing himself for the appearance of his aunt, St. John took a deep breath, and endeavored to look pleased. But the sight which just then greeted him, made his eyes pop out, and caused the air in his lungs to be expelled forcefully.
“By God!” cried he at the vision of female beauty which stood before him. “By God!”
“Oh!” exclaimed the slender, dark-haired creature with brilliant eyes, “I am so sorry! I thought Lady Pendleton would be here! I did not know she had a guest!”
“Neither did I!” exclaimed St. John, moving forward very rapidly. “However, I cannot say I am sorry to find that I was wrong!”
The young lady, evidently a little overwhelmed at his eagerness, blinked, and smiled tentatively. Then with a gracious movement, she held out a hand—quite like a little queen, thought St. John—and remarked complacently, that whoever he was, he was quite welcome.
What a little imp! thought St. John happily. She likes to welcome me into my own aunt’s house! But aloud he said, “That is awfully kind of you, ma’am—heh, heh.”
Antonia thought this response rather peculiar. The strange caller before her—a most immoderately stout gentleman—possessed very peculiar manners. Imagine snickering at her welcome! She supposed he was one of those Englishmen who had not been taught any manners when they were children, just as there were some Americans so deprived. Thinking she would give him a little lesson in deportment, she swept into the room and took a seat. Lady Pendleton would certainly not raise any objection to having her guest’s manners improved.
“Have you come to see her ladyship, sir?” she inquired. “I am afraid she is dressing. But if you would like a glass of sherry while you wait. I shall ring for Bentley.”
“How kind of you—heh, heh,” returned the strange fat man.
Antonia gave him a severe look. “On second thought, sir, perhaps that would not be a very good idea. We shal
l wait for her ladyship.”
“Just as you like,” said the gentleman, taking a seat. “You do not mind if I sit down, I suppose?”
“Not a bit—I was just on the point of inviting you to do so!” returned Antonia, with raised eyebrows.
There followed a short silence, during which Antonia perused the intruder from under lowered lashes. He seemed to be staring at her most indecorously, for all the world as if she were the intruder and not he! He was, however, growing rather redder every moment, and his great chest, so tightly swathed in aquamarine superfine, was puffing in and out. She took these signs to be an indication of the fellow’s dawning understanding of his incivility, and deciding to let him have a few more seconds of it, said nothing.
St. John, meanwhile, having been rather entranced by this lovely creature at first, was growing more irritable every moment. No doubt she was one of the objects of his aunt’s patronage, for Lady Pendleton was forever picking up strays as she went along, and taking them under her wing. He had once or twice before had reason to object to his aunt’s habits, but really, this was going too far! He was just at the point of demanding to know who this young lady was, when she opened her mouth to speak.
“Have you known Lady Pendleton long?” she inquired.
“I should say so!”
“Really? She is a wonderful woman, is she not? I am afraid I have only the pleasure of knowing her this last year, though of course I have heard a great deal about her. My cousin and I have come from America to visit, you see.”
“Ah! From America! That must account for it, then! I suppose she met you when she was in Philadelphia?”
“One could say that,” replied Antonia, with a little smile. “Why, have you heard much about her visit there?”
“I had no wish to,” retorted St. John. “I do not like America.”
Contrary Cousins Page 16
