‘To own the truth,’ admitted Sophy, ‘I had the devil’s own work to do so! Oh, I beg your pardon! I did not mean to say that, dearest Aunt Lizzie! Don’t scold! It comes of living with Sir Horace: I know I say the most shocking things, but I do try to mind my wretched tongue! No, and do not give Charles’s pets another thought! He will come about presently. I daresay if he had not engaged himself to marry that tedious girl he would not be so stuffy!’
‘Oh, Sophy!’ said Lady Ombersley involuntarily. ‘I own I cannot like Miss Wraxton, try as I will!’
‘Like her! I should think not indeed!’ exclaimed Sophy.
‘Yes, but one should,’ said Lady Ombersley unhappily. ‘She is so very good, and I am sure she wishes to be a most dutiful daughter to me, and it is so ill-natured of me not to wish for adutiful daughter! But when I think that in quite a short time now I shall have her living in the house – But I should not be talking in this style! It is most improper, and you must forget it, if you please, Sophy!’
Sophy paid no heed to this, but echoed: ‘Living in the house! You are not serious, ma’am?’
Lady Ombersley nodded. ‘There is nothing at all out of the way in such an arrangement, you know, my love. They will have their own apartments, of course, but …’ She broke off, and sighed.
Sophy looked at her fixedly for a few moments, but, rather to her surprise, said nothing. Lady Ombersley tried to put these melancholy reflections out of her mind, and began to talk about the party she meant to give. Into these plans her niece entered with enthusiasm, and an efficiency that swept Lady Ombersley quite off her feet. By what stages she arrived at agreement with Sophy on all points she was never afterwards able to explain, either to Charles or to herself, but at the end of an interview which left her feeling bemused but convinced that no one could boast of having a sweeter-natured or more thoughtful niece than Sophy, she had certainly consented not only to allow Sophy and Cecilia to undertake all the necessary arrangements, but also to permit Sir Horace (through his daughter) to defray the cost of the entertainment.
‘And now,’ Sophy said buoyantly to Cecilia, ‘you shall tell me where we must order the cards of invitation, and where you in general go for refreshments. I don’t think we should leave that to my aunt’s cook, for he would be busy for so many days he would have very little time for anything else, and that would make everything uncomfortable, which I don’t at all wish.’
Cecilia regarded her in round-eyed astonishment. ‘But Sophy, Mama said it should only be a quiet small party!’
‘No, Cecy, it was your brother who said that,’ replied Sophy. ‘It is going to be a very large party.’
Selina, who was present at this conference, asked shrewdly: ‘Does Mama know that?’
Sophy laughed. ‘Not yet!’ she admitted. ‘Do you think she does not care for large parties?’
‘Oh, no! Why, there were more than four hundred people invited to the ball she gave for Maria, were there not, Cecilia? Mama enjoyed it excessively, because it was such a capital success, and everyone complimented her on it. Cousin Mathilda told me so.’
‘Yes, but the cost of it!’ Cecilia said. ‘She will not dare! Charles would be so angry!’
‘Don’t give him a thought!’ recommended Sophy. ‘It is Sir Horace who will bear the cost, not Charles. Make a list of all your acquaintances, Cecy, and I will make one of those of my friends who are in England, and then we will go out to order the cards. I imagine we shall not need more than five hundred.’
‘Sophy,’ said Cecilia, in a faint voice, ‘are we going to send outfive hundredinvitations without evenaskingMama?’
Imps of mischief danced in her cousin’s eyes. ‘Of course we are, dear goose! For once we have despatched them even your horrid brother cannot recall them!’
‘Oh, famous, famous!’ cried Selina, beginning to skip round the room. ‘Whata rage he will be in!’
‘DareI?’ breathed Cecilia, at once scared and dazzled.
Her sister begged her not to be poor-spirited, but it was Sophy who clinched the matter, by pointing out to her that she would not have to bear the responsibility, and was unlikely to incur much recrimination from her brother, who would have no hesitation in laying the blame at the right door.
Mr Rivenhall, meanwhile, had gone off to visit his betrothed. He arrived at the Brinklows’ somewhat cheerless house in Brook Street still seething with indignation, but so thankless and perverse was his disposition that no sooner did he find his sentiments shared and his strictures on his cousin endorsed than he took an abrupt turn in quite another direction, and said much must be forgiven a girl who could handle his grays as Sophy had. From being a female sunk below reproach Sophy became rapidly an unconventional girl whoseunaffected manners were refreshing in an age of simpers and high flights.
This was not just to Miss Wraxton’s taste. To be driving about the City unattended did not suit her sense of propriety, and she said so. Mr Rivenhall grinned. ‘No, very true, but I suppose it was in some sort my fault: Ididput up her back. There’s no harm done: if she could control my grays, as fresh as they were, she’s a capital whip. All the same, if I have anything to say to it she is not going to set up her own carriage while she remains in my mother’s charge. Good God, we should never know from one moment to the next where she was, for, if I know anything of my abominable cousin Sophy, to drive decorously round the Park would not do for her at all!’
‘You take it with a composure that does you the greatest credit, my dear Charles.’
‘I didn’t!’ he interrupted, with a rueful laugh. ‘She put me in a thundering rage!’
‘I am sure that it is not wonderful that she should have. To drive a gentleman’s horses without his leave shows a want of conduct that is above the line of being pleasing. Why, evenIhave never even requested you to let me take the reins!’
He looked amused. ‘My dear Eugenia, I hope you never will, for I shall certainly refuse such a request! You could never hold my horses.’
If Miss Wraxton had not been so very well-bred she would at this tactless remark have returned a pretty hot rejoinder, for she prided herself a little on her handling of the ribbons; and, although she did not drive herself in London, owned an elegant phaeton which she used when staying at her home in Hampshire. As it was, she was obliged to pause for a moment before saying anything. During this brief period she swiftly formed the resolve of demonstrating to Charles, and his objectionable cousin, that a lady reared on the strictest principles of propriety could be quite as notable a horsewoman as any hoyden who had spent her girlhood junketing about the Continent. She had several times been complimented on her seaton a horse, and knew her style to be excellent. She said: ‘If Miss Stanton-Lacy cares for such things, perhaps she would like to ride with me one afternoon in the park. That will give her thoughts another direction, diverting them from such foolish notions as setting up her own carriage. Let us make up a party, Charles! Dear Cecilia is not fond of the exercise, I know, or I should solicit her to join us. But Alfred will be pleased to go with me, and you may bring your cousin. Tomorrow? Pray beg her to go with us!’
Mr Rivenhall, an intolerant man, had no affection for his Eugenia’s younger brother, and generally made it his business to avoid him, but he was struck by Miss Wraxton’s nobility in promoting an engagement which (he guessed) would afford her little pleasure, and at once agreed to it, expressing at the same time his sense of obligation to her. She smiled at him, and said that it must be an object with her to exert herself in his interests. He was a man not much given to the making of graceful gestures, but at this he kissed her hand, and said that he knew well how utterly he could rely upon her in every predicament. Miss Wraxton then repeated the remark she had previously made to Lady Ombersley, that she was particularly sorry that, at this crisis in the Ombersley fortunes, circumstance had intervened to postpone her union with him. She rather thought that the indifferent state of dear Lady Ombersley’s health made it impossible for her to manage her household just as Charles could wish. Her kind heart made her perhaps over-tolerant, and the languor induced by an ailing constitution rendered her blind to certain defects that could speedily be remedied by a helpful daughter-in-law. Miss Wraxton owned that she had been surprised to learn that Lady Ombersley had allowed herself to be persuaded by her brother – a very odd kind of man, her papa had told her – to assume the charge of his daughter for an unspecified length of time. She passed from this, in the smoothest fashion, to a gently worded criticism of Miss Adderbury, no doubt an excellent woman, but sadly lacking in accomplishments, or in control over her spirited charges. But this was amistake: Mr Rivenhall would permit no criticism of Addy, who had guided his own first steps; and as for his uncle, Lord Brinklow’s slighting comment made him instantly bristle in defence of his relative. Sir Horace, he informed Miss Wraxton, was a highly distinguished man, with a genius for diplomacy.
‘But not, you will own, a genius for rearing a daughter!’ said Miss Wraxton archly.
He laughed at that, but said: ‘Oh, well! I don’t know that there is any real harm in Sophy, after all!’
