‘No, of course I do not!’ responded Cecilia. ‘But Eugenia never wears modish gowns. She says there are more important things to think of than one’s dresses.’
‘What a stupid thing to say!’ remarked Sophy. ‘Naturally there are, but not, I hold, when one is dressing for dinner. Who is she?’
‘Miss Wraxton: Charles is betrothed to her, and Mama sent to warn me a few minutes ago that she is dining here tonight. We had all of us forgotten it in the bustle of your arrival. I daresay she will be in the drawing-room already, for she is always very punctual. Are you ready? Shall we go down?’
‘If only my dear Jane would bestir herself a little!’ Sophy said, giving her other wrist to her maid, and casting a roguish look into Miss Storridge’s disapproving face.
The maid smiled rather grimly, but said nothing. She did up the tiny buttons, draped a gold-embroidered scarf over her mistress’s elbows, and gave a little nod of approval. Sophy bent, and kissed her cheek, saying: ‘Thank you! Go to bed, and don’t think I will let you undress me, for I assure you I will not! Goodnight, Jane dear!’
Cecilia, a good deal astonished, said as they descended the stairs together: ‘I suppose she has been with you a long time? I fear Mama would stare to see you kiss your maid!’
Sophy lifted her eyebrows at this. ‘Indeed? Jane was my mother’s maid, and my own kind nurse when my mother died. I hope I may do nothing worse to make my aunt stare.’
‘Oh! Of course she would perfectly understand the circumstances!’ Cecilia said hastily. ‘Only it looked so odd, you know!’
A decided sparkle in her cousin’s fine eyes seemed to indicate that she did not much relish this criticism of her conduct, but as they had by this time reached the drawing-room door she did not say anything, but allowed herself to be ushered into the room.
Lady Ombersley, her two elder sons, and Miss Wraxton were seated in a group about the fire. All looked round at the opening of the door, and the two gentlemen rose to their feet, Hubert gazing at his cousin in frank admiration, Charles looking her over critically.
‘Come in, dear Sophy!’ Lady Ombersley said, in a welcoming tone. ‘You see that I am wearing the beautiful mantilla instead of a shawl! Such exquisite lace! Miss Wraxton has been much admiring it. You will let me introduce Miss Stanton-Lacy to you, my dear Eugenia. Cecilia will have told you, Sophy, that we are soon to have the joy of counting Miss Wraxton one of the family.’
‘Yes, indeed!’ said Sophy, smiling, and holding out her hand. ‘I wish you very happy, Miss Wraxton, and my cousin also.’ She turned, having briefly clasped Miss Wraxton’s hand, and extended her own to Charles. ‘How do you do?’
He shook hands, and discovered that he was being looked at in a manner quite as critical as his own. This surprised him, but it amused him too, and he smiled. ‘How do you do? I shall not say that I remember you very well, cousin, for I am sure that neither of us has the least recollection of the other!’
She laughed. ‘Very true! Not even Aunt Elizabeth could remember me! Cousin – Hubert, is it? – tell me, if you please, about Salamanca, and John Potton! Did you see both safely bestowed?’
She moved a little aside, to talk to Hubert. Lady Ombersley, who had been anxiously watching her son, was relieved to see that he was looking perfectly amiable, even rather appreciative. A half smile lingered on his lips, and he continued to observe Sophy until his attention was recalled by his betrothed.
The Honourable Eugenia Wraxton was a slender young woman, rather above the average height, who was accustomed to hearing herself described as a tall, elegant girl. Her features were aristocratic, and she was generally held to be a good-looking girl, if a trifle colourless. She was dressed with propriety but great modesty in a gown of dove-coloured crape, whose sober hue seemed to indicate her mourning estate. Her hair,which she wore in neat bands, was of a soft tint between brown and gold; she had long, narrow hands and feet; and rather a thin chest, which, however, was rarely seen, her Mama having the greatest objection to such low-cut bodices as (for instance) Miss Stanton-Lacy was wearing. She was the daughter of a Viscount, and, although she was always careful not to appear proud, perfectly aware of her worth. Her manners were gracious, and she took pains to put people at their ease. She had had every intention of being particularly gracious to Sophy, but when she rose to shake hands with her she had found herself looking up into Sophy’s face, which made it very difficult to be gracious. She felt just a little ruffled for a moment, but overcame this, and said to Charles in a low voice, and with her calm smile: ‘How very tall Miss Stanton-Lacy is! I am quite dwarfed.’
‘Yes, too tall,’ he replied.
She could not help being glad that he apparently did not admire his cousin, for although she perceived, on closer scrutiny, that Sophy was not as handsome as herself, her first impression had been of a very striking young woman. She now saw that she had been misled by the size and brilliance of Sophy’s eyes: her other features were less remarkable. She said: ‘Perhaps, a trifle, but she is very graceful.’
Sophy at this moment went to sit down beside her aunt, and Charles caught sight of the fairy-like little greyhound, which had been clinging close to her skirts, not liking so many strangers. His brows rose; he said: ‘We seem to have two guests. What is her name, cousin?’
He was holding down his hand to the greyhound, but Sophy said: ‘Tina. I am afraid she will not go to you: she is very shy.’
‘Oh, yes, she will!’ he replied, snapping his fingers.
Sophy found his air of cool certainty rather annoying, but when she saw that he was quite right, and watched her pet making coquettish overtures of friendship, she forgave him, and was inclined to think he could not be as black as he had been painted.
‘What a pretty little creature!’ remarked Miss Wraxtonamiably. ‘I am not, in general, fond of pets in the house – my Mama, dear Lady Ombersley, will never have even a cat, you know – but I am sure this must be quite an exception.’
‘Mama has a great liking for pet dogs,’ said Cecilia. ‘We are not usually without one, are we, ma’am?’
‘Fat and overfed pugs,’ said Charles, with a grimace at his mother. ‘I prefer this elegant lady, I confess.’
‘Oh, that is not the most famous of Cousin Sophy’s pets!’ declared Hubert. ‘You wait, Charles, until you see what else she has brought from Portugal!’
Lady Ombersley stirred uneasily, for she had not yet broken the news to her eldest son that a monkey in a red coat was now King of the Schoolroom. But Charles only said: ‘I understand, cousin, that you have brought your horse with you too. Hubert can talk of nothing else. Spanish?’
‘Yes, and Mameluke-trained. He is very beautiful.’
‘I’ll go bail you’re a famous horsewoman, cousin!’ Hubert said.
‘I don’t know that. I have had to ride a great deal.’
