Contrary Cousins

by Judith Harkness

  Antonia looked amazed, not so much at the idea, but at the incivility with which it was expressed.

  “Have you been there?”

  “Never!”

  “Then how can you say you dislike it? I should not venture such an opinion had I not some basis for judgment!”

  “I dislike pomegranates, though I have never eaten one!” returned St. John, with a petulant scowl.

  “Really? I see we are of opposite minds, then—for I have eaten a great many of them, and I think them delightful!”

  Here was an impasse, and neither of them spoke for several moments. Antonia wondered if she should not call Bentley to find out if this insufferable man was really a welcome visitor to Pendleton House, and St. John, tapping his small foot upon the floor, seethed inwardly at the forwardness of this young woman. Fancy arguing with him, a viscount and Member of the House of Lords! He should certainly have a word with his aunt! Why did she not come down? What a comeuppance it would give this chit, to find he was the Viscount Rollins! And savoring this eventual triumph, he put off identifying himself a little longer. He would not debase himself by putting the lady right at once—let her be chagrined by her mistake!

  But the young woman was evidently bent upon offending him, for now she remarked, “It is a pity the English are so close-minded. I was always told there was no nobler race in the world, but I cannot believe there can be much nobility where there is so little tolerance.”

  Well, really! This was too much! St. John stood up, and glared at the young female in the chair, so impudently regarding him.

  “Madame! I beg to be told how you can know so much about England, when you are only a visitor here!”

  “Oh, I have only been here just above a week, it is true, sir. But my knowledge of your nation is not confined to what I myself have observed. My chief knowledge come from a family of cousins I have here, who have always shown so little regard for civility, even family loyalty, that it is perfectly shocking! They are so closed-minded that they cannot even admit to knowing my family, though it is to the capricious generosity of my own grandfather that they owe their present wealth and titles! And it is not only my family which thinks ill of them—for Lady Pendleton told me herself she has seen the elder son hide cards up his sleeve after dinner, and heard the same gentleman—if gentleman he be—parade about in the most bombastic and ridiculous fashion, reciting cant which he appears to ignore in his own life! So you see, sir—I have some right to my opinion, and to think your countrymen very close, who will not admit of any good from another nation, when they have so little to show in their own!”

  Antonia felt a great deal better, for having let her feelings out all in a rush, and she regarded the fat gentleman before her, heaving and crimson, with satisfaction. At that very moment, however, the door opened, and Lady Pendleton walked in, followed by Serena. There was no time to discover the effects of her little speech upon the intruder, for there followed a volley of remarks.

  “Aunt Winifred!” cried St. John, purple in the face. “I demand to know who is this young woman, who thinks nothing of insulting me!”

  “Aunt Winifred!” cried Antonia, gaping.

  “Children!” cried Lady Pendleton. “Have you met? Oh, I see you have. Dear me! Quarrelin’ already, how provokin’!”

  Now everyone stood perfectly still, and gaped at one another, until Lady Pendleton, collecting herself first, toddled toward a chair and lowered herself down.

  “I see you have met your cousin, Antonia dear,” she remarked. “You mustn’t mind him. He likes to bluster.”

  “I beg your pardon, Aunt Winifred!” cried St. John, so worked up that he was swaying upon his small feet, “who is this young person?”

  “Why, it is your cousin Miss Powell, dear—did not you introduce yourselves? And here is another one for you to meet. Miss Serena Powell—St. John Howard, the Viscount Rollins. Do sit down, my dear—you look as if you are in danger of collapsin’.”

  “How do you do?” said Serena, sitting down.

  “Not—not the American Powells!” exclaimed St. John.

  “Yes, dear—aren’t they nice? Antonia, do you feel ill? You look quite white!”

  “I saw you walking in the park today,” said St. John to Serena, as if it were an accusation.

  “Did you? Yes, I was walking in the park.”

  “With Lytton-Smythe!”

  Serena smiled—how was one to respond to such remarks?—and bowed her head.

  “My God!” cried St. John, striking his brow with his pink hand. “I feel ill!”

  “Oh, I hope not, dear—we are to have such a nice dinner! Cook made all your favorite things. Rice puddin’, and a leg of venison. I shall get Bentley to bring you in a glass of sherry. Antonia, perhaps, should have some, too.”

  “Thank you, Auntie—I should be grateful!” murmured Antonia, still perfectly white.

  But St. John had risen to his feet once more, and held up his hand.

  “I shall not be able to stay to dinner, Aunt Winifred. I cannot stay in a house where I have been insulted! Nor shall I ever make a hand at whist with you again! Pray, excuse me to Cook. I feel quite ill.”

  And, much to the astonishment of everyone, save perhaps Antonia, the Viscount made his way with great dignity toward the door. Grasping the door handle, he seemed to hesitate a moment, but with renewed determination, he turned it and walked out.

  “Well, I never!” exclaimed Lady Pendleton when he had gone. “What did you say to him, dear?”

  “Rather too much, I am afraid,” muttered Antonia. “He was standing here when I came in, and I did not know who he was. I asked him to be seated, thinking he was a caller, and he—well, he was rather rude. So I thought I would give him a little setdown.”

  “Yes—well, my dear, it appears you did amazin’ well!”

  “Oh, dear—shall you ever forgive me?” exclaimed Antonia.

  “Depends upon what you said to him, my dear. What exactly set him off?”

  “I told him the English were closed-minded, because he said he disliked America, though he had never seen it. And then, I am afraid, I told him that I knew the English were closed-minded, because I had some English cousins and they—well—”

  “Yes, my dear?”

  “Hated us, though it was due to my grandfather that they had land and titles at all!”

  Lady Pendleton looked a little stunned. “Anythin’ else?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. I told him the eldest son hid cards up his sleeve, and recited cant.”

  “My dear, you did not!”

  Antonia nodded dumbly.

  Gazing between her cousin and her aunt, Serena was too stunned to speak. She saw Lady Pendleton turn a bright shade of pink, and then, with a quick gesture, throw up her hands.

  “My dear, you ought to have been in the Army!” she cried then. “Roland could so have used you! Quite a little terror you are!”

  Antonia sighed, and looking miserable, murmured, “I am so dreadfully sorry, Auntie, and I shall try to make it up. I’m not quite sure how, but I shall!”

  “Never mind, never mind! So provokin’! Why, I should have given anythin’ to see his face! There’s Bentley, my dears—let us go in to dinner, and then you must tell me every detail you can remember!”

  Serena, not sure whether to be appalled or otherwise, stood up with her aunt and followed her into the dining room.

  Chapter XVIII

  Lord Southington’s card party proved a very grand affair, but of all the objects of interest in the place—which included trumpeters, a band of actors, and so many elegant figures crowded into the rooms and hallways that no card table could possibly have been set up, even had anyone desired to play—the American Misses Powell were the greatest. Their fame had spread at such a rate that even Lady Pendleton, hovering about them as much as she could, was scarcely capable of believing it. She saw with her own eyes two of the Royal Dukes she had seen at Carlton House, sidle up to get a glimpse of them. Antonia,
of course, attracted so much admiration that it was hardly possible to cleave a way through the crowd about her, but her ladyship’s particular joy was in seeing Serena’s company solicited by a number of the most eligible men in the house.

  Mr. Lytton-Smythe and Freddy were forced back so far they could not have a word with either, which suited Lady Pendleton quite well: for she wished her young ladies to be observed, not as the sole domain of two young men, but as the generally acclaimed territory of the public. Only thus could they obtain the merit they deserved, and which happened to fit her own desires quite neatly. She was gratified, as well, to see St. John skulk in about an hour after her own party had arrived, and observe the commotion which his cousins had caused, as if he had been struck upon the head. Lord Blandford, she was pleased to note, had as much trouble as anyone getting through the fray, and almost seemed to give up at one point. But at last he worked his way to the side of Antonia, and a little later, both had disappeared.

  “Have you seen my young guest, Miss Powell?” she inquired of her host, a little later.

  “Which one, my dear Winifred?” demanded Lord Southington. “I think they are both upon the stairs, with a train of worshipers a mile long! You ought to have told me they would cause such a diversion—I should have cancelled the actors!”

  “They are quite pretty, don’t you think? But it is so provokin’! I cannot see Antonia anywhere about! I believe she went off with Lord Blandford.”

  Lord Southington, a very dignified man, with a great thatch of silver hair above his broad brow and aquiline features, frowned.

  “Don’t mention that name to me, Lady P.! What? Is he about? I should have denied him entrance, had I known he might have the gall to come! He is unwelcome in this house.”

  Lady Pendleton contrived to look shocked. “Dear Hubert, do tell me! I cannot have my young ladies goin’ about with anyone dishonorable!”

  “He is that, your ladyship,” returned the Lord. “I should turn him out of a scullery, if that were all I possessed.”

  “Poor Theonia!” murmured Lady Pendleton. “Is she so much distraught?”

  “I never dreamed she could be so ill-used,” replied Lord Southington. “Blandford was engaged to marry her, you know, and then he disappeared to the Continent—without one word! Theonia nearly died of heartache. She was in her bed above a month. And, just when she was nearly recovered, she received a letter from him—saying he was coming back! It raised all her hopes again, only to be dashed. The blackguard has not even had the civility to call upon her! If I were you, Winifred, I should do anything in my power to keep Miss Powell out of his clutches. I shall say no more.”

  “My dear Hubert, you have said quite enough!” responded Lady Pendleton, looking perfectly appalled. “I shall not let Antonia speak to him! The mere idea of it!”

  “I only tell you, you know, so that you may be upon your guard against him,” remarked the elderly gentleman. “But I am sure you will not let a hint of it get about—it would quite destroy Theonia!”

  “Just as you say, Hubert—not a hint!”

  Lady Pendleton moved off through the crowd with a frown. “How very provokin’ it was all gettin’ to be!” Antonia certainly was a caution. She did not mind so much that the young lady had given St. John a setdown; it was for that very purpose she had wanted the girls to come—that and Cumberford, of course. But now she had gone off with Blandford, who would seem to be the last man a strange young lady in London ought to encourage. But of course that was just the sort she would go after—with her wild ideas! Lady Pendleton smiled to herself. Perhaps Freddy had been right—perhaps she was used to goin’ about in America with a musket! But of the two girls, Lady Pendleton was relieved it had been Antonia who had succumbed to whatever charms he possessed, and, to hear him mentioned, they were considerable. She did not know much about him herself, save what one heard: that he was eminently eligible, and much sought-after by all her matron friends with marriageable daughters; and, of course, that he was imitated by all the dandies. Lady Pendleton was not much interested in either group—neither matrons nor dandies, and she hardly ever listened to gossip with all her attention. Perhaps she ought to have! She knew Freddy disliked him, but not why—she ought to find out!

  Just then, as if to add force to her fears, she saw Miss Theonia Ulridge, standing by herself on the fringe of the crowd watching the actors performing a skit. What a pathetic sight she made, in her lovely silver-and-blue ballgown, with silver tule puffed over her shoulders! Such a pretty thing, and so sad-lookin’! Not all her ivory skin nor golden waves could mend her broken heart. With half a mind to go over and speak to her, Lady Pendleton made a half turn, and felt her hand caught up.

  “Don’t fly away, my lady!” came the voice, deep and rumbling from above her. Looking up, Lady Pendleton stared into the twinkling blue eyes of Clarence. Old and fat he might have grown, but the Royal Prince still held a soft spot in her ladyship’s heart—she felt herself flushing.

  “Why, I shouldn’t dream of it, Duke!” she simpered. “I was only lookin’ for Miss Powell!”

  “Ah—and that is just what I meant to ask you—must I beg for an introduction?—I see you look disapproving, Winifred! You mustn’t. I only wish to admire her at closer range. She has got a string of admirers half a league long upon the stairs.”

  “Oh, that’s Serena,” said her ladyship. “I was lookin’ for her cousin, Antonia.”

  “What! Not another one! But I suppose she cannot be half so handsome.”

  “In a different style, yes. And I thought you were desirous of gettin’ nearer me!”

  “Ah! Now that is what I wished you not to guess, my dear Winifred. I shall just come along and help you search, if you don’t mind. Where has she gone?”

  Lady Pendleton took the arm proffered, which, as the Duke was an exceeding tall man, was at about the level of her shoulder. They made their way through the crowd quite easily now, for people tended to step back for Royalty, especially when it was so tall.

  “That is just what I don’t know, Duke! She disappeared half an hour ago with the Marquis of Blandford. She is wearin’ lilac silk, and has dark hair—much prettier than I am.”

  “Now that I cannot believe,” returned the amiable Duke, who had been a famous gallant in his youth, and now supported a brood of eleven bastards to prove it. “They are Americans, I think? Most interesting! And I am told they are as rich as they are pretty. Blandford should like that!”

  “Should he?” inquired Lady Pendleton, innocently.

  “Oh! Now I am speaking out of turn. You must forget I said it.”

  “I shall try, Duke. Though I shouldn’t think he’d have much satisfaction from Antonia, if that is all he is after. Her Papa has no money, though he was the Mayor of Philadelphia—dear me, no, that was her grandpapa. It is Serena who is rich. Her papa bought tea, or somethin’ of the kind. Tobacco, perhaps—in any case, he did wonderfully well at it!”

  “How enterprising Americans seem to be!” responded the Duke of Clarence.

  “They are! And they do not all carry muskets about, either, whatever Freddy says. Oh! There I see her—she just walked through that door.”

  “Eh?” said the Duke. “Then let us follow her! I mean to meet at least one of ’em before the evening ends. I promised my wife I should.”

  They overtook Antonia and the Marquis of Blandford without much trouble, and having discovered that she was being presented to a Royal Duke, Antonia made her deepest curtsey.

  “You are quite as pretty as they say, my dear Miss Powell,” remarked the Duke. “And they say a good deal.”

  “Lady Pendleton has been boasting to you then, I am afraid,” replied Antonia, much flattered.

  “Nothing of the kind! She keeps her counsel very well. It is the world which is talking of you, young lady!”

  “And so they ought,” put in Lord Blandford. “Good evening, Duke.”

  “Evening, Blandford!”

  “My Lady Pendleton,�
�� Blandford continued his greetings, with a second bow, and kissed the Marchioness’s hand.

  Pretty manners! thought her ladyship—perhaps just a bit too pretty? He looks a bit sticky, though very charmin’, of course!

  “I have not seen you in a great while,” said she aloud. “You were a boy in high knickers when I last saw your father.”

  “But of course I have seen you very often since then,” responded Lord Blandford in a chivalrous way, “for my lady is always the chief jewel at elegant gatherings.”

  “Well—jewel or glass trinket, Lord Blandford—you are very canny!”

  “Don’t listen to her, young lady,” put in the Duke to Antonia, “Lady Pendleton was the belle of belles in my day!”

  “Tosh, Duke—you are a flatterin’!”

  “Nothing of the kind. I am sorry about that little business the other day, Blandford. You ought to put in your request again, now that the House is seated.”

  Lord Blandford seemed to shift from one foot to the other, and smiled as if he did not understand.

  “Ah?” he said, with both dark eyebrows raised, “Thank you, Your Grace. I shall do as you say.”

  “You ought. Well, Miss Powell—I must leave you, I am afraid, and go and tell the Duchess that you are as pretty as they say. Good evening, Blandford. My lady?”

  Lady Pendleton took his arm once more, and having mentioned to Antonia that she was “gettin’ weary” went off beside the Duke.

  Looking after them, Antonia gave a little sigh. “Well, I have met a Royal Duke at last!” she exclaimed.

  Lord Blandford, whose usual irony had disappeared before the Duke, smiled at her. “There are several others, if you like them so much,” he replied.

  “Do you see them often? You sounded quite intimate with His Grace!”

  “Oh,” said Blandford, with a shrug, “from time to time. They are always about in Society. Clarence is the most amiable of them, though Gloucester is preferred by some.”

  “Heaven! You make them sound like a family of rabbits!”