He said over his shoulder, and with some difficulty: ‘I have come to see that nothing but misery could result from such a union. You at least shall not be subjected to a lifetime of regret! I will speak to my father. You have resented my influence with him:thistime it shall be exerted in your favour.’
At any other moment his words must have prompted her to have enquired into their unexpressed significance, but shock seemed to suspend her every faculty. She found not a word to say, and experienced the greatest difficulty in preventing herself from bursting into tears. He turned his head, and said, with a smile: ‘What an ogre I must appear to you, to have so taken your breath away, Cilly! Don’t stare at me so unbelievingly! You shall marry your poet: my hand on it!’
She put out her own mechanically, managed to speak two words: ‘Thank you!’ and ran out of the room, unable to say more, or to control her emotion.
She sought the seclusion of her own bedchamber, her thoughts in such disorder that it was long before her agitation had at all subsided.
Never had opposition been withdrawn at so inopportune a moment; never had a victory seemed more empty! Almost without her knowledge, her sentiments, during the past weeks, had been undergoing a change. Now that her brother had accorded her his permission to marry the man of her choice she discovered that her feeling for Augustus had been no more than the infatuation Charles had always thought it. Opposition had fostered it, leading her into the fatal error of almost publicly announcing her unalterable determination to marry Augustus or no one. Lord Charlbury, so superior to Augustus in every way, had accepted her rejection of his suit, and had turned his attention elsewhere; and whatever unacknowledged hope she might have cherished of seeing his affections reanimate towards her must now be quite at an end. To confess to Charles that he had been right from the start, and she most miserably mistaken, was impossible. She had gone too far; nothing now remained to her but to accept the fate she had insisted on bringing on herself; and, for pride’s sake, to show a smiling face to the world.
She showed it first to Sophy, resolutely begging her to felicitate her upon her happiness. Sophy was thunderstruck. ‘Good God! She exclaimed, stupefied. ‘Charles willpromotethis match?’
‘He does not wish me to be unhappy. He never wished it. Now that he is convinced that I am in earnest he will place no bar in my way. Indeed, he was so good as to promise that he would speak to Papa for me! That must decide it: Papa always does what Charles desires him to.’ She saw that her cousin was regarding her fixedly, and continued quickly: ‘I have never known Charles kinder! He spoke of the misery of being forced into a marriage against one’s inclination. He saidIshould not spend a lifetime of regret. Oh, Sophy, can it be that he no longer cares for Eugenia? The suspicion cannot but obtrude!’
‘Good gracious, he never did care for her!’ replied Sophy scornfully. ‘And if he has but just discovered it,thatis no reason for –’ She broke off, darting a swift glance at Cecilia, and perceiving much more than her cousin would have wished. ‘Well!This is a day of miracles indeed!’ she said. ‘Of course I felicitate you with all my heart, dearest Cecy! When is your betrothal to be announced?’
‘Oh, not until Augustus is settled in – in some respectable occupation!’ Cecilia answered. ‘Butthatwill not be long, I am persuaded! Or his tragedy may take, you know.’
Sophy agreed to this without a blink, and listened with an assumption of interest to Cecilia’s various schemes for the future. That these were couched in somewhat melancholy terms she allowed to pass without comment, merely repeating her congratulations, and wishing her cousin every happiness. But behind these mendacities her brain was working swiftly. She perfectly understood the fix Cecilia was in, and never for an instant thought of wasting her breath in expostulation. Something far more drastic than expostulation was needed in this case, for no lady who had entered into an engagement in the teeth of parental opposition could be expected to cry off from it the instant she had gained the sanction she had so insistently demanded. Willingly could Sophy have boxed Mr Rivenhall’s ears. To remain adamant when opposition could only strengthen his sister’s resolve had been bad enough; to withdraw his opposition at a moment when Charlbury was in a fair way to ousting the poet from her affections was an act of such insanity that it put Sophy out of all patience with him. Thanks to Alfred Wraxton’s predilection for gossip, Cecilia’s secret engagement to Mr Fawnhope was widely known. She had, moreover, been at some pains to display to Society her determination to wed him. It would need something very drastic indeed to induce so gently-bred a girl to fly in the face of all convention. If Mr Rivenhall had agreed to the match Sophy could not suppose that the official announcement would be long delayed; once this had appeared in the Gazette nothing, she thought, would prevail upon Cecilia to brand herself a jilt. It was even doubtful if she could be induced to cry off before the announcement had been made, for she presumably had a greater dependence on the strength of Mr Fawnhope’s attachment than her shrewder cousin could share;and her tender heart would shrink from giving such pain to one who had been so faithful a lover.
As for Mr Rivenhall’s extraordinary change of face, this was not perhaps so inexplicable to Sophy as to his sister; but although the sentiments which had prompted it could not but gratify her she was unable to deceive herself into thinking that he had any intention of terminating his engagement to Miss Wraxton. It was not to be expected of him: careless of appearances he might be, but no man of his breeding could offer such an affront to a lady. Nor could Sophy suppose that Miss Wraxton, surely aware of the tepid nature of his regard for her, would herself put an end to an alliance that held so little prospect of future happiness for either of the contracting parties. Miss Wraxton’s talk was all of her approaching nuptials, and it was quite evident that marriage to a man with whom she scarcely shared a thought was preferable to her than a continued existence as a spinster.
Sophy, cupping her chin in her hands, sat weaving her toils undismayed by a situation which would certainly have daunted a less ruthless female than herself. Those who knew her best would have taken instant alarm, knowing that, her determination once taken, no consideration of propriety would deter her from embarking on schemes which might well prove to be as outrageous as they were original.
‘Surprise is the essence of attack.’
The phrase, once uttered by a General in her presence, came into her head. She pondered it, and found it good. Nothing short of surprise would wrench Charles or Cecilia from the paths of convention, so surprise they should have in full measure.
The immediate outcome of all this cogitation was an interview with Lord Ombersley, caught on his return to Berkeley Square from a day at the races. His lordship, firmly led into his own sanctum, scented danger, and made haste to inform his niece that he was pressed for time, having a dinner-engagement that must be kept within the hour.
‘Never mind that!’ said Sophy. ‘Have you seen Charles this day, sir?’
‘Of course I have seen Charles!’ replied his lordship testily. ‘I saw him this morning!’
‘But not since then? He has not spoken to you of Cecilia’s affairs?’
‘No, he has not! And I’ll tell you this, Sophy! I want to hear no more of Cecilia’s affairs! My mind’s made up: I won’t have her marrying this poet-fellow!’
‘My dear sir,’ said Sophy, warmly clasping his hand, ‘do not budge from that stand! I must tell you that Charles is about to counsel you to sanction the engagement, and you must not!’
‘What?’ ejaculated his lordship. ‘You’re certainly out there, Sophy! Charles won’t hear of it, and for once he’s right! What should get into the silly chit to make her reject as good as man as you may find – I was never more incensed! To whistle Charlbury, with all his fortune, down the wind –!’
His niece firmly drew him to the sofa, and obliged him to sit down on it beside her. ‘Dear Uncle Bernard, if you will only do precisely as I bid you she will marry Charlbury!’ she assured him. ‘But you must promise me most faithfully not to permit Charles to overbear your judgement!’
‘But, Sophy, I keep telling you –’
‘Charles has told Cecilia that he will no longer withhold his consent.’
‘Good God, has he taken leave of his senses too? You must be mistaken, girl!’
‘Upon my honour, I am not! It is the stupidest thing, and will very likely wreck everything, unless you can be trusted to remain firm. Now, my dear uncle, never mind why Charles has taken this start! Only attend to me! When Charles speaks to you about this, you must refuse to entertain the notion of Cecy’s marrying Augustus Fawnhope. In fact, it would be an excellent stratagem if you were to say that you are of the same mind as ever, and mean her to marry Charlbury!’
Lord Ombersley, slightly bewildered, entered on a feeble expostulation. ‘Much good that would do, when Charlbury has withdrawn his offer!’
‘It is of no consequence at all. Charlbury is still extremely desirous of marrying Cecilia, and, if you choose, you may tell her so. She will say that she means to marry her tiresome Augustus, because she is in honour bound to do so. You may rave at her as much as you please – as much as you did when she first made her resolve known to you! But the important thing, dear sir, is that you should remain adamant! I will do the rest.’
He looked suspiciously at her. ‘Now, Sophy, this won’t do! It was you who helped her to live in that damned poet’s pocket, for Charles told me so!’
‘Yes, and only see with what splendid results! She no longer has any real desire to wed him, and has come to see how superior Charlbury is! If Charles had not meddled, all would have gone just as you would have wished!’
