‘I am aware that Lord Charlbury has every amiable quality,’ she said, in a subdued voice, and mopping her wet cheeks with his handkerchief. ‘Indeed, I believe him to be the finest gentleman of my acquaintance, and if I am crying it is from sorrow at having been obliged to wound him!’
He walked over to the window, and stood looking out into the square. ‘It is useless now to remonstrate with you. After your announcement last night it is not very likely that Charlbury would desire to marry you. What do you mean to do? I may tellyou now that my father will not consent to your marriage with Fawnhope.’
‘Because you will not let him consent! Can you not be content, Charles, with making a marriage of convenience yourself, without wishing me to do the same?’ she cried hotly.
He stiffened. ‘It is not difficult to perceive my cousin’s influence at work!’ he said. ‘Before her arrival in London, you would not have spoken so to me! My regard for Eugenia –’
‘If youloved, Charles, you would not talk of yourregardfor Eugenia!’
It was at this inappropriate moment that Dassett ushered Miss Wraxton into the room. Cecilia whisked her brother’s handkerchief out of sight, a tide of crimson flooding her cheeks; Mr Rivenhall turned away from the window, and said with a palpable effort: ‘Eugenia! We did not expect this pleasure! How do you do!’
She gave him her hand, but turned her gaze upon Cecilia saying: ‘Tell me it is not so! I was never more shocked in my life than when Alfred told me what had occurred last night!’
Almost insensibly the brother and sister drew closer together. ‘Alfred!’ repeated Mr Rivenhall.
‘He told me, when he drove home after the ball, that he could not choose but overhear what Cecilia had said to you, Charles. And Lord Charlbury! I could not believe it to have been possible!’
Loyalty, as much as the ties of affection, kept Mr Rivenhall ranged on the side of his sister, for he looked to be very much annoyed, which indeed he was, for he thought it inexcusable of Cecilia to have placed him in such a situation. He said repressively: ‘If you mean that Cecilia and Lord Charlbury have made up their minds to it they would not suit, you are quite correct. I do not know what business it is of Alfred’s, or why he must run to you with what he – overhears!’
‘My dear Charles, he knows that what concerns your family must be also my concern!’
‘I am much obliged to you, but I have no wish to discuss the matter.’
‘Excuse me! I must go to my mother!’ Cecilia said.
She escaped from the room; Miss Wraxton looked significantly at Mr Rivenhall, and said: ‘I do not wonder you are vexed. It has been a sadly mismanaged business, and I fancy we have not far to seek for the influence that prompted dear Cecilia to behave in a way so unlike herself!’
‘I have not the smallest conjecture as to your meaning.’
His tone, which was forbidding, warned her that she would be wise to turn the subject, but her dislike of Sophy had become such an obsession with her that she was impelled to continue.
‘You must have noticed, dear Charles, that our sweet sister has fallen quite under the sway of her cousin. I cannot think it will lead to anything but disaster. Miss Stanton-Lacy doubtless has many excellent qualities, but I have always thought that you were right in saying she had too little delicacy of mind.’
Mr Rivenhall, who had decided that Sophy was to blame for his sister’s conduct, said without an instant’s hesitation: ‘You are mistaken: I never made any such remark!’
‘Did you not? Something of that nature I think you once said to me, but it hardly signifies! It is a thousand pities that dear Lady Ombersley was forced to receive her as a guest at this precise time. Every time I enter the house I am conscious of a change in it! Even the children –’
‘It is certainly by far more lively,’ he interrupted.
She gave vent to rather an artificial laugh. ‘It is certainly lesspeaceful!’ She began to smooth the wrinkles from her gloves. ‘Do you know, Charles, I have always so much admired thetoneof this house? Your doing, I know well! I cannot but feel a little melancholy when I see that ordered calm – a certain dignity, I should say – shattered by wild spirits. Poor little Amabel, I thought the other day, is growing quite out of hand! Of course, Miss Stanton-Lacy encourages her unthinkingly. One must remember that she herself has had a strangely irregular upbringing!’
‘My cousin,’ said Mr Rivenhall, with finality, ‘has been extremely kind to the children, and is a great favourite with my mother. I must add that it is a pleasure to see my mother’s spirits so much improved by Sophy’s presence. Have you any errands in this part of the town? May I escort you? I must be in Bond Street in twenty minutes’ time.’
In face of so comprehensive a snub as this it was impossible for Miss Wraxton to say more. Her colour rose, and her lips tightened, but she managed to suppress an acid retort, and to say with the appearance at least of complaisance: ‘Thank you, I have to call at the library for Mama. I came in the barouche, and shall be glad to take you up as far as your destination.’
Since this was Jackson’s Boxing Saloon, she could hardly have been expected to have been pleased, for she did not care for sport of any kind, and considered boxing a peculiarly low form of it. But apart from quizzing Mr Rivenhall archly for his obvious preference for a horrid prizefighter’s society than for her own she made no comment.
Cecilia, meanwhile, had fled, not to Lady Ombersley, but to her cousin, whom she discovered seated before her dressing-table, scanning a slip of paper. Jane Storridge was putting away her habit, but when Cecilia came into the room she seemed to feel that she was not wanted, for she gave an audible sniff, picked up Sophy’s riding-boots, and went away with them under her arm.
‘What do you suppose this can be, Cecy?’ asked Sophy, still studying with knit brows the paper in her hand. ‘Jane says she found it by the window, and thought it must be mine. What a funny name!Goldhanger, Bear Alley, Fleet Lane. I do not know the writing, and cannot conceive how – Oh, how stupid! It must have fallen out of the pocket of Hubert’s coat!’
‘Sophy!’ said Cecilia, ‘I have had the most dreadful interview with Charlbury!’
Sophy laid the paper down. ‘Good gracious, how is this!’
‘I find my spirits utterly overborne!’ declared Cecilia, sinking into a chair. ‘No one –no one!– could have behaved with moreexquisite sensibility! I wish you had not persuaded me to see him! Nothing could have been more painful!’
‘Oh, do not give him a thought!’ said Sophy bracingly. ‘Let us rather think what is to be done about fixing Augustus in some genteel occupation!’
