Mr Rivenhall’s sense of humour betrayed him. He was obliged to bite back a laugh before replying: ‘I find it a marvellous circumstance, cousin, that no one has yet strangled you!’
He found that he had lost his cousin’s attention. Her head was turned away from him, and before he could discover what object of interest had caught her eye she had said quickly: ‘Oh, if you please, would you stop? I have seen an old acquaintance!’
He complied with this request, and then saw, too late, who was walking down the street towards them. There could be no mistaking that graceful figure, or those guinea-gold locks, revealed by the doffing of a curly-brimmed beaver. Mr Augustus Fawnhope, perceiving that the lady in the curricle was waving a hand in his direction, halted, took off his hat, and stood with it in his hand, gazing enquiringly up at Sophy.
He was indeed a beautiful young man. His hair waved naturally from a brow of alabaster; his eyes were of a deep blue, a little dreamy, but so exquisitely set under arched brows, of such size and brilliance as to defy criticism; his mouth was moulded in curves to set a sculptor groping for the tools of his art. He was of moderate height, and exact proportions, and had no need to live upon a diet of potatoes steeped in vinegar to preserve his slender figure. Not that it would ever have entered his head to have done so; it was not the least of Mr Fawnhope’s charms that he was utterly unconcerned with his appearance. It might have been supposed that he could not be unaware of the admiration this excited, but as he was preoccupied with his ambition to become a major poet, paying very little attention to what was said to him, and none at all to what was said about him, even his ill-wishers(such as Mr Rivenhall and Sir Charles Stuart) were forced to admit that it was very likely that this admiration had not as yet pierced the cloud of abstraction in which he wrapped himself.
But there was more than abstraction in the gaze turned upward to Miss Stanton-Lacy’s face, and this circumstance was not lost on Mr Rivenhall, interpreting correctly the doubtful smile hovering on Mr Fawnhope’s lips. Mr Fawnhope had not the faintest idea of the identity of the lady stretching down her hand to him in so friendly a fashion. However, he took it in his, and said How-do-you-do, in his soft, vague voice.
‘Brussels,’ said Sophy helpfully. ‘We danced the quadrille at the Duchess of Richmond’s ball, do you remember? Oh, are you acquainted with my cousin, Mr Rivenhall? You must know that I am staying with my aunt, in Berkeley Square, for the season. You must come to call upon us: I know she will be delighted!’
‘Of course I remember!’ said Mr Fawnhope, with less truth, than good manners. ‘Enchanting to meet again, ma’am, – and so unexpectedly! I shall certainly do myself the pleasure of calling in Berkeley Square.’
He bowed, and stepped back. The grays, to whom Mr Rivenhall’s impatience had communicated itself, bounded forward. Mr Rivenhall said: ‘How charming for you to have met an old friend so soon after your arrival!’
‘Yes, was it not?’ agreed Sophy.
‘I hope he will have contrived to recall your name before he avails himself of your invitation to visit you.’
Her lips twitched, but she replied with perfect composure: ‘Depend upon it, if he does not he will find someone to tell him what it is.’
‘You are shameless!’ he said angrily.
‘Nonsense! You only say so because I drove your horses,’ she answered. ‘Never mind! I will engage not to do so again.’
‘I’ll take care of that!’ he retorted. ‘Let me tell you, my dear cousin, that I should be better pleased if you would refrain from meddling in the affairs of my family!’
‘Now, that,’ said Sophy, ‘I am very glad to know, because ifever I should desire to please you I shall know just how to set about it. I daresay I shan’t, but one likes to be prepared for any event, however unlikely.’
He turned his head to look at her, his eyes narrowed, and their expression by no means pleasant. ‘Are you thinking of being so unwise as to cross swords with me?’ he demanded. ‘I shan’t pretend to misunderstand you, cousin, and I will leave you in no doubt of my own meaning! If you imagine that I will ever permit that puppy to marry my sister, you have yet something to learn of me!’
‘Pooh!’ said Sophy. ‘Mind your horses, Charles, and don’t talk fustian to me!’
FIVE
‘PRETTY WELL, FORone morning’s work!’ said Sophy.
Mr Rivenhall was less satisfied. His mother was dismayed to discover that so far from having taken a liking to his cousin he was appalled to think that they might be obliged to house her for months. ‘I tell you frankly, ma’am, it will not do!’ he said. ‘God knows how long my uncle may be away! I only wish you may not live to regret the day when you consented to take charge of his daughter! The sooner you can fulfil the rest of his expectations, and marry her off to some poor wretch, the better it will be for the rest of us!’
‘Good gracious, Charles!’ said Lady Ombersley. ‘What in the world has she done to put you out?’
He declined to answer this, merely saying that Sophy was pert, headstrong, and so badly brought up that he doubted whether any man would be fool enough to offer for her. His mother refrained from enquiring further into Sophy’s iniquities, but instead seized the moment to suggest that as a prelude to finding a husband for her she should be allowed to give an evening party, with dancing. ‘I do not mean a large affair,’ she hastened to add. ‘Perhaps ten couples, or so – in the drawing-room!’
‘By all means!’ he said. ‘That will make it quite unnecessary for you to invite young Fawnhope!’
‘Oh, quite!’ she agreed.
‘I should warn you, Mama,’ he said, ‘that we encountered him this morning! My cousin greeted him as an old and valued acquaintance, and begged him to call on her here!’
‘Oh, dear!’ sighed Lady Ombersley. ‘How very unfortunate, to be sure! But I daresay she does know him, Charles, for she was with your uncle in Brussels last year.’
‘She!’ said Charles witheringly. ‘He had no more notion who she was than the Emperor of China! But he will certainly call! I must leave you to deal withthat, ma’am!’
With these very unfair words he strode out of his mother’s room, leaving her to wonder in what way he supposed her to be able to deal with a morning-call paid by a young man of unexceptionable birth, who was the son of one of her oldest friends. She came to the conclusions that he had no more idea than she, and banished the matter from her mind, bending it instead to the far more pleasant problem of whom to invite to the first party she had held in two months.
She was presently interrupted by the entrance of her niece. Remembering Charles’s dark words, she asked Sophy, with an assumption of severity, what she had done to vex him. Sophy laughed, and almost stunned her by replying that she had done nothing but steal his curricle, and tool it round the City for half an hour.
‘Sophy!’ gasped her ladyship. ‘Charles’s grays? You could never hold them!’
