‘No, no! I am very fond of horses!’ Sophy said earnestly.
Before he could stop himself he found that he was replying to this. ‘Selina, who repeated this remark to me, isnotfond of horses, however, and she –’ He broke off, seeing how absurd it was to argue on such a head.
‘I expect she will be, when she has lived in the same house with Miss Wraxton for a month or two,’ said Sophy encouragingly.
Mr Rivenhall, restraining an impulse to box his cousin’s ears, flung out of the room, slamming the door behind him. At the foot of the stairs he encountered Lord Bromford, who was handing his hat and overcoat to a footman. Mr Rivenhall, seeing how hemight, in some measure, be revenged on Sophy, greeted him with a great affability, asked him if he meant to attend Tuesday’s ball, and, upon hearing that his lordship was much looking forward to the engagement, said: ‘Have you come to bespeak my cousin’s hand to the cotillion? You are wise! She will certainly be besieged with solicitations! Dassett, you will find Miss Stanton-Lacy in the Yellow Saloon! Take his lordship up to her!’
‘Do you think I should?’ said Lord Bromford anxiously. ‘It was not danced in Jamaica, you know, but I have been taking lessons, and two of the steps I know tolerably well. Will there be waltzing? I do not waltz. I do not think it seemly. I hope Miss Stanton-Lacy does not waltz. I do not like to see a lady doing so.’
‘Everyone waltzes nowadays,’ said Mr Rivenhall bent on his fell intent. ‘You should take lessons in that too, Bromford, or you will be quite cut out!’
‘I do not think,’ said Lord Bromford, having considered the matter gravely, ‘that one should sacrifice one’s principles to gratify a female’s whim. I do not think the quadrille objectionable, although I am aware that there are many who do not permit it to be danced in their houses. In the country dance I am prepared to take my part. There is authority for the exercise of dancing, by which I mean to signify the round, or country-dance, in the works of the Ancients. Plato, you know, recommended that children should be taught to dance; and several classic writers deemed it an excellent recreation after serious study.’
But at this point Mr Rivenhall bethought him of a pressing engagement, and fled the house. Lord Bromford followed the butler upstairs to the drawing-room, Dasset having his own views on the impropriety of ushering single gentlemen into the Young Ladies’ Room. When Sophy, duly chaperoned by Selina, joined him there, he lost no time in begging her to dance the cotillion with him. Sophy, trusting that one of her Peninsula friends would come to her rescue, said how sorry she was to be obliged to refuse him. She was, she said, already engaged. His face fell, and he looked even a little offended, exclaiming. ‘Howcan this be, when your cousin told me to make haste to be first with you?’
‘My cousin Charles? Did he indeed?’ said Sophy appreciatively. ‘Well, no doubt he did not know that my hand has been claimed these past three days. Perhaps we may stand up together for one of the country-dances.’
He bowed, and said: ‘I have been telling your cousin that we have good authority for indulging in country-dances. They cannot, I believe, be considered harmful. The waltz, on the other hand, I cannot approve of.’
‘Oh, you do not waltz? I am so glad – I mean, one does not think of your indulging in anything so frivolous, Lord Bromford!’
He appeared to be pleased by this; he settled himself deeper in his chair, and said: ‘You raise an interesting thesis, ma’am. One is familiar with the phrase.A man may be known by the company he keeps:can it be that he may also be known by the dances he permits himself to indulge in?’
Since neither lady had any views to advance on this subject, it was fortunate that his question was purely rhetorical. He began to expand the topic, and was only interrupted by the arrival of Mr Wychbold, who came first to offer to escort Sophy and her cousins to witness a wild beast show, and second to beg the honour of partnering her in the cotillion. She was obliged to deny him, but with regret, for Mr Wychbold was a notable dancer, performing every step in the cotillion with grace and elegance.
However, when Tuesday dawned she had acquired a far from contemptible partner in Lord Francis Wolvey. The fact that he had first applied for Miss Rivenhall’s hand she bore with great fortitude, saying that in Christian charity to all other young females Cecilia should lose no time in disposing of herself in wedlock.
It was plain from the outset that the ball was to be one of the season’s successes. Even the weather favoured it. From dawn till dinner-time Ombersley House was the scene of restless activity, and the road outside noisy with the wheels of tradesmen’s carts,and the whistling of innumerable errand-boys. Mr Rivenhall arrived from the country just as two men in shirtsleeves and leather breeches were erecting an awning across the flag-way to the road; and another, wearing a baize apron, laying a red carpet down the steps, under Dassett’s lofty supervision. Inside the house, Mr Rivenhall almost collided with a footman, staggering in the direction of the ballroom with a gigantic potted palm clasped to his bosom, and avoided him only to be faintly screamed at by the housekeeper, who was carrying a pile of the best table-damask to the dining-room. Dassett, who had followed Mr Rivenhall into the house, informed him, with satisfaction, that they would sit down thirty to dinner at eight o’clock. He added that her ladyship was laid down upon her bed in preparation for the revels, and that his lordship had personally selected the wines to be served at dinner. Mr Rivenhall, who seemed to be resigned rather than delighted, nodded, and asked whether any letters awaited him.
‘No, sir,’ replied Dassett. ‘I should mention that the band of Scots Greys will play during supper, Miss Sophy being acquainted with the Colonel, who will be amongst the dinner-guests. A vast improvement, if I may say so, sir, on the Pandean pipes, which have become quite common since we had them for Miss Cecilia’s ball last year. Miss Sophy, I venture to say, is a lady as knows precisely how things should be done. A great pleasure, if I may be pardoned the liberty, to work for Miss Sophy, for she thinks of everything, and I fancy there will be no hitch to mar the festivities.’
Mr Rivenhall grunted, and went off to his own apartments. When he next appeared, it was to join the rest of his family in the drawing-room a few minutes only before eight o’clock. His two young sisters, who were deriving much entertainment from hanging over the banisters of the staircase leading to the school-room floor, informed him in penetrating whispers that he looked so smart they could not believe that there would be any other gentleman to rival him. He looked up, laughing, for although he had a good figure, and was dressed with propriety in black satinknee-breeches, a white waistcoat, striped stockings, and a waisted coat with very long tails, he knew that he would be sartorially outshone by half the male guests. But his little sisters’ wholehearted admiration certainly softened his mood, and after promising faithfully to send a servant up to the schoolroom with ices later on, he went on to the drawing-room and was even able to bring himself to compliment his sister and cousin on their gowns.
Sophy had chosen a dress of her favourite pomona-green crape, which she wore over a slip of white satin. It had tiny puff-sleeves of lace and seed-pearls, and was lavishly trimmed with lace. Particularly fine diamond drops hung from her ears; her pearl necklace was clasped round her throat; and an opera-comb was set behind the elaborate knot of hair on the crown of her head. Jane Storridge had brushed and pomaded her side-curls until they glowed richly chestnut in the candlelight. Green-striped satin slippers, long gloves, and a fan of frosted crape on ivory sticks completed her toilet. Lady Ombersley, while approving of this striking ensemble, could not forbear gazing at Cecilia with eyes misty with maternal pride. All the youth and beauty of the Upper Ten Thousand would be present at her ball tonight, she reflected, in a large-minded spirit, but there was not a girl amongst them who would not be cast into the shade by Cecilia, a dream-princess in white spider-gauze, glinting a little when she moved, and the light caught the silver acorns embroidered on the delicate material. Cecilia’s curls, with only a silver ribbon threaded through them, were like spun gold; her eyes a clear, translucent blue; her mouth a perfect bow. Beside Sophy she seemed ethereal; her father, surveying her with easy affection, said she made him think of a fairy: Queen Mab, or Titania, was it? He needed Eugenia Wraxton to set him right.
He was to have her. Miss Wraxton, after prolonged consideration, had decided to attend Sophy’s ball, gaining her Mama’s consent by assuring her that she should certainly not take part in any dancing. She was the first of the dinner-guests to arrive, and was attended by her brother Alfred, who ogledCecilia and Sophy through his quizzing-glass, paying them such extravagant compliments as to bring a faint flush to Cecilia’s cheeks, and a sparkling look into Sophy’s eyes. Miss Wraxton, who was attired in discreet lavender crape, and had come determined to please, and to be pleased, also complimented the cousins on their appearance. Her remarks, however, were in far better taste, and won a warm look from Charles. At the first opportunity, he engaged her attention, going over to put a chair for her, and saying: ‘I had not dared to hope that you would be present tonight. Thank you!’
She smiled, and pressed his hand slightly. ‘Mama did not quite like it, but she agreed that it would be proper for me to come, in the circumstances. I shall not dance, I need hardly say.’
‘I am delighted to hear it: you present me with a capital excuse for following your example!’
She looked gratified, but said: ‘No, no, you are to do your duty, Charles! I insist upon it!’
‘The Marquesa de Villacañas!’ announced Dassett.
‘Good God!’ ejaculated Charles, under his breath.
The Marquesa came into the room, magnificent, and decidedly exotic, in gold satin, casually adorned with ruby or emerald brooches, chains, and necklaces. An immensely high Spanish comb was in her hair, with a mantilla draped over it; an aroma of heavy perfume hung about her; and a very long train swept the floor behind her. Lord Ombersley drew a deep breath, and moved forward to greet with real enthusiasm a guest so worthy of his notice.
Mr Rivenhall forgot that he was not on speaking-terms with his abominable cousin, and said in her ear: ‘How in the world did you rouse her to so much effort?’
She laughed. ‘Oh, she wished in any event to spend a few days in London, so all I had to do was to engage a suite of rooms for her at the Pulteney Hotel, and to charge Pepita, her maid, most straitly, to send her to us tonight.’
‘I am astonished that she could be brought even to contemplate so much exertion!’
‘Ah, she knew I would go myself to fetch her if she failed!’
More guests were arriving; Mr Rivenhall moved away to assist his parents in receiving them; the big double drawing-room began to fill up; and at only a few minutes past eight o’clock Dasset was able to announce dinner.
