‘I don’t understand a word of this!’ complained his lordship.
‘Very likely not: it has in great measure been due to poor little Amabel’s illness.’
‘But,’ persisted her uncle, painstakingly attempting to follow the thread of her argument, ‘if she is now willing to listen to Charlbury, why the devil don’t he renew his suit?’
‘I daresay he would, if I would let him. It would be useless. Only consider it, sir, in what a fix poor Cecy finds herself! She has kept Augustus dangling after her for months, has sworn she will wed him or none! You have only to consent to the alliance and she must feel herself bound to marry him! At all costs any formal announcement must be stopped! You may do this, and I beg you will! Do not listen to anything Charles may say to you!’ Her expressive eyes laughed at him. ‘Be as disagreeable to Cecilia as you were before! Nothing could serve the purpose better!’
He pinched her cheek, ‘You rogue! But if Charles has changed his mind – You know, Sophy, I am no hand at argument!’
‘Then do not argue with him! You have only to fly into a towering passion, andthat, I know, you are well able to do!’
He chuckled, seeing in this pronouncement a compliment. ‘Yes, but if they give me no peace –’
‘My dear sir, you may seek refuge at White’s! Leave the rest to me! If you will but do your part, I fancy I cannot fail to do mine. I have only this to add! – On no account must you divulge that I have been speaking to you on this matter! Promise!’
‘Oh, very well!’ said his lordship. ‘But I’ll tell you what, Sophy! I’d as lief take young Fawnhope into my family as that sour creature Charles must needs bring into it!’
‘Oh, certainly!’ she responded coolly. ‘Thatcould never answer! I have known it since first I came to London, and I now entertain a reasonable hope of terminating that entanglement. Only do your part, and we may all come about!’
‘Sophy!’ exclaimed her uncle explosively. ‘What the devil do you mean to be about now?’
But she would only laugh, and whisk herself out of the room.
The upshot of this interview staggered the household. For once Mr Rivenhall failed to bend his parent to his will. His representations to Lord Ombersley of the enduring nature of Cecilia’s passion fell quite wide of the mark, and were only productive of an outburst of rage that surprised him. Knowing that his heir would speedily out-argue him, and dreading nothing so much as a struggle against a will far stronger than his own, Lord Ombersley scarcely allowed him an opportunity to open his mouth. He said that however high-handed Charles might be in the management of the estates, he was still not his sisters’ guardian. He added that he had always considered Cecilia more than half-promised to Charlbury, and would not consent to her marriage with another.
‘Unfortunately, sir,’ said Charles dryly, ‘Charlbury no longer affects my sister. His eyes are turned in quite another direction.’
‘Pooh! Nonsense! The fellow haunts the place!’
‘Exactly so, sir! Encouraged by my cousin!’
‘Don’t believe a word of it!’ said his lordship. ‘Sophy wouldn’t have him.’ Charles gave a short laugh. ‘And if he did offer for her, I still wouldn’t permit Cecilia to marry that nincompoop of hers, and so you may tell her!’
Mr Rivenhall did tell her, but as he added consolingly that hehad little doubt of being able to talk his father round to his way of thinking, he was not surprised at her calm manner of receiving the news. Not even a tirade from Lord Ombersley, delivered over the dinner-table, quite shattered her composure, although she had the greatest dislike of angry voices, and could not help wincing a little, and changing colour.
The person to be least affected by the parental dictate was Mr Fawnhope. When informed that it would not be possible immediately to send the notice of the betrothal to the society journals, he blinked, and said vaguely: ‘Were we about to do so? Did you tell me? I might not have been attending. I am in a great worry about Lepanto, you know. It is useless to deny that battle-scenes upon the stage are never felicitous, yet how to avoid it? I have been pacing the floor the better part of the night, and am no nearer to solving the problem.’
‘I must tell you, Augustus, that it is unlikely that we shall be married this year,’ said Cecilia.
‘Oh, yes, very unlikely!’ he agreed. ‘I don’t think I should think of marriage until the play is off my hands.’
‘No, and we must remember that Charles stipulates that you should find some respectable employment before the engagement is announced.’
‘That quite settles it, then,’ said Mr Fawnhope. ‘The question is how far one might, with propriety, employ the methods of the Greek dramatists to overcome the difficulty.’
‘Augustus!’ said Cecilia, in a despairing voice. ‘Is your play more to you than I am?’
He looked at her in surprise, perceived that she was in earnest, and at once took her hand, and kissed it, and said, smiling at her: ‘How absurd you are, my beautiful angel! How could anything or anyone be more to me than my Saint Cecilia? It is for your sake that I am writing the play. Should you dislike the notion of a chorus, in the Greek style?’
Lord Charlbury, finding that his rival continued, even without the excuse of enquiring after Amabel’s condition, to visit in Berkeley Square, took fright and demanded an explanation ofhis preceptress. He was driving her down to Merton in his curricle at the time, and when she told him frankly what had occurred, he kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead, and for several moments said nothing. At last, with a palpable effort, he produced: ‘I see. When may I expect to see the announcement?’
‘Never,’ replied Sophy. ‘Don’t look so hagged, my dear Charlbury! I assure you, there is no need. Poor Cecy has discovered these many weeks that she mistook her own heart!’
At that he turned his head quickly to look at her. ‘Is this so indeed? Sophy, don’t trifle with me! I own, I had thought – I had hoped – Then I shall try my fortune once more, before it is too late!’
‘Charlbury, for a sensible man you say the stupidest things!’ Sophy told him. ‘Pray, what do you imagine must be her answer in this predicament?’
‘But if she no longer loves Fawnhope – if she perhaps regrets turning me off –?’
