At this point an entirely unexpected voice made itself heard. ‘What a fortunate circumstance that I haven’t gone out!’ said Miss Stavely. ‘Did you wish to see me, ma’am?’
Since Kit had been standing with his back to the door, his person obscuring Mrs Alperton’s view of it, neither of them had seen it open a little way, and Cressy slip softly into the room. Mrs Alperton started, and let her parasol fall to the floor; but Kit spun round, the nonchalance wiped suddenly from his face, to be succeeded by a look of consternation.
Smiling brightly upon him, Cressy advanced into the room. Involuntarily he put out a hand to check her, but she ignored it, and went to sit down in a chair facing Mrs Alperton across the empty hearth. ‘Pray forgive me for interrupting you!’ she said gracefully. ‘But you were speaking rather loudly, you know, ma’am, and I could not help but hear a little of what you were saying. I collect you have something you wish to tell me?’
‘No!’ said Kit.
Mrs Alperton, her high colour abating, glanced speculatively at him, before resuming her study of Cressy. There was an uncertain look in her eyes; and it was plainly to be seen that she was unable to decide whether Cressy’s entrance could be turned to pecuniary advantage, or whether it had effectually spiked her guns. She said slowly, and to gain time: ‘So you’re Stavely’s girl, are you? You don’t favour him much, by what I remember.’
Accepting this familiarity with unruffled calm, Cressy replied: ‘No, I am thought to resemble my mother. Now, what is it that you wish to say to me, if you please?’
‘As to that,’ said Mrs Alperton, ‘it’s not my wish to say anything to you, not bearing you any ill-will, nor being one to tell tales, unless I’m pushed to it.’ She transferred her gaze to Kit’s face, and said: ‘Maybe you’d prefer I kept mum, my lord?’
‘But I shouldn’t,’ intervened Cressy.
Mrs Alperton paid no heed to this, but continued to watch Kit maliciously. He met her eyes, and his own hardened. ‘I should infinitely prefer it,’ he said, ‘but I have warned you already that I am not a pigeon for your plucking! Take care what you’re about, Mrs Alperton! The glue won’t hold: you’ll bowl yourself out.’
‘Not before I’ve bowled you out!’ she declared venomously. ‘Which I’ll be glad to do, for I’m a mother myself, and it would go to my heart to see an innocent girl deceived like my poor Clara has been! Ah, my dear, you little know what a cozening rascal has been casting out his wicked lures to you!’
Kit leaned his shoulders against the wall, folded his arms across his chest, and resigned himself.
‘No, indeed!’ agreed Cressy. ‘Is Clara your daughter, ma’am?’
‘My daughter!’ said Mrs Alperton, in a throbbing voice. ‘Seduced by that villain, and left to starve without so much as a leave-taking!’
‘How very dreadful!’ said Cressy. ‘I must say I am astonished! I should never have thought he would have behaved so shabbily.’
Mrs Alperton was considerably taken aback. So too was Kit. He had hoped that Cressy would discredit the greater part of the story; but none of it was fit for the ears of a gently nurtured girl, and he had not dared to hope that she would not suffer a severe shock, attended by painful embarrassment. But neither he nor Mrs Alperton had taken into account the peculiar circumstances of her girlhood, or the undisguised gallantries of her father.
‘Very improper indeed!’ pursued Cressy. ‘I do most sincerely pity her – and you, too, ma’am, for nothing, I daresay, could be more disagreeable than to feel yourself compelled to remind Lord Denville of his obligations.’
‘No,’ said Mrs Alperton, a little dazed. ‘No, indeed!’
‘But perhaps there is a misunderstanding?’ suggested Cressy hopefully. ‘The thing is that he is abominably forgetful, you know. You did very right to put him in mind of the matter, for I am persuaded he will do just as he ought, now that he has remembered it, won’t you, sir?’
‘Just as I ought!’ corroborated Kit.
‘Well, upon my word!’ gasped Mrs Alperton. ‘I never did, not in all my life! I’m telling you he’s a rake, miss!’
‘Yes, but do you think you should, ma’am?’ asked Cressy diffidently. ‘I perfectly understand your telling him so, but it doesn’t seem to be quite the thing to tell me, for it is not in the least my affair – though I am naturally very sorry for your daughter.’
‘I might have known it!’ said Mrs Alperton terribly. ‘It wouldn’t make a bit of difference to you if he was a murderer, I daresay! Oh, the sinful hollowness of the world! That I should have lived to hear a lady of consequence – and single, too! – talk so bold and unblushing! Well, they didn’t do so in my day, whatever they may have thought! Not those that held themselves up as the pink of gentility! And very right they shouldn’t,’ she added, moved to a moment of sincerity. She seemed to be about to expatiate on this point, but changed her mind, and instead said, reverting to her original style: ‘And me coming to warn you, believing you was but an innocent, and my heart wrung to think of you married to one such as he is! You’ll live to regret it, my girl, for all his gingerbread, and his grand title!’
‘Good God, I should think so indeed!’ exclaimed Cressy. ‘Marry Lord Denville? But I’ve no such intention!’
Mrs Alperton was fast losing control of the situation, but she made a gallant attempt at a recover. ‘Oh, you haven’t? Then perhaps you’ll tell me, Miss Stavely, what this means?’
Cressy, blinking at the scrap of print held up before her, presented for a moment all the appearance of one wholly bewildered. Then her puckered brow cleared, and she fell into laughter. ‘Now I understand!’ she said. ‘Do you know ma’am, I have been quite in a puzzle to know why you should have wished to talk to me? It seemed the oddest thing! But I see it all now! You have read that absurd paragraph in the Morning Post, which has had us all in whoops! Oh dear, was there ever anything so nonsensical? But it is a great deal too bad!’ she said, resolutely schooling her countenance to an expression of gravity. ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am! Infamous of me to laugh, when the tattling wretch who wrote that ridiculous farrago has been the cause of your being put to so much pain and inconvenience! How very kind it was in you to have come to see me! Indeed, I am excessively obliged to you, and shockingly distressed to think you should have undertaken such a disagreeable task for nothing.’
‘Not going to marry him?’ Mrs Alperton said incredulously. She looked from Cressy to Kit; and then, as she saw the smile in his eyes, as they rested on Cressy, said roundly: ‘Humdudgeon! And I collect he’s not nutty upon you either!’
‘Oh, no! At least, I sincerely trust he is not, for I am persuaded we should not suit.’
‘That’s a loud one!’ ejaculated Mrs Alperton, with a scornful crack of laughter. ‘You won’t gammon me so easily! Why, anyone could see –’
‘Pray say no more!’ begged Cressy, suddenly assailed by maidenly shyness. ‘There is no possibility of my marrying Lord Denville, ma’am, as you will understand when I tell you that my affections are – are already engaged!’
There was a moment’s frozen silence, during which Mrs Alperton seemed to wilt where she sat. Kit, withdrawing his intent gaze from Cressy’s face, quietly left the room, feeling that she stood in no need of support, and that no time should be lost in summoning Mrs Alperton’s chaise to the door. He dispatched a footman on this errand, desiring him at the same time to send Challow up to the house.
That worthy arrived speedily. He evinced no surprise at the curt question which greeted him, but replied: ‘Yes, sir, I do know where it came from. According to what the postboy told me, it was hired in Tunbridge Wells. And a regular saucebox he is, but he’d got no reason to tell me a whopper, so we may as well believe him as not. Also according to him, Master Kit, the party which hired it had quite an argle-bargle with Norton before he let her into the house, saying as how his lordship would reg
ret it to his dying day if he didn’t see her. Very full of it, the lad was! Well, it made me prick up my ears, as I don’t need to tell you, but by what the lad says, the party was naught but an old griffin: not by any manner of means one of his lordship’s convenients – asking your pardon, Master Kit, if I’m speaking too bold!’
‘Not one of his convenients: her mother!’ said Kit, his brows knit.
‘You don’t say!’ exclaimed Challow, shocked. ‘Whatever brought her here, sir?’
‘It seems his lordship hasn’t visited her daughter for nearly a month. She thinks he has abandoned her. I hoped that perhaps – But if she comes from the Wells we are no better off than we were before, for we know that wasn’t where he went!’
‘I’ll take my affy-davy it wasn’t,’ asserted Challow. ‘And a very good thing too if he has abandoned that one! All the same, Master Kit, it looks like you’re in a case of pickles – if her ma’s half the archwife the postboy says she is! Seems to me you’ll have to hang up your axe.’
Kit’s frown disappeared, and the ready laughter sprang into his eyes. ‘Yes, it looked like a case of pickles to me too,’ he admitted. ‘In fact, I thought it was all holiday with me! But I was rescued in the very nick of time – and the archwife is about to depart: beaten at all points!’
Thirteen
When he re-entered the Blue saloon Kit gathered, from what he heard, that Mrs Alperton had been regaling Cressy with nostalgic reminiscences of her past glory. By the expression of sympathetic interest on Miss Stavely’s serene countenance he was encouraged to hope that Mrs Alperton’s frequently asserted regard for innocent girls had prompted her to withhold the more lurid details of her career, together with the information that she had been pretty well acquainted with Lord Stavely. Nor was he mistaken: Mrs Alperton had interrupted her narrative several times, with apologies for having allowed herself to run on more than was seemly; and she took care to assure Cressy that although she had more than once entertained Stavely at her parties their association had never ripened into anything beyond what she called company-acquaintance. She was describing these parties, explaining that however nobly born a gentleman might be there were times when he took a fancy for a bit of jollification, when Kit came in. Cressy had exercised a soothing influence upon her, but the sight of Kit brought her wrongs back to her mind. She cut short her reminiscences, and glowered at him.
‘Denville, Mrs Alperton, as you may suppose, is anxious to return to her daughter,’ said Cressy, before that lady could re-open hostilities. ‘She has been telling me, too, how very ill-able she is to afford the post-charges, and I have ventured to say that I am persuaded you will see the propriety of discharging that obligation for her – since all the trouble and expense she has been put to was caused by your stupid forgetfulness!’
‘I do indeed,’ Kit replied. ‘So much so that I have already attended to the matter. The chaise is at the door, ma’am: you will allow me to do myself the honour of escorting you to it!’
Mrs Alperton, rising from the sofa, favoured him with a stately inclination of her head, but observed with a good deal of bitterness that this was the least she had a right to expect, and pretty scaly at that. She then took gracious leave of Cressy, sniffed audibly at Kit, who was holding open the door, and stalked from the room.
He accompanied her out of the house, and very civilly handed her up the steps of the chaise, begging her, as he did so, to assure the afflicted Clara that she was not forgotten, and should not be left to starve.
But Mrs Alperton, somewhat exhausted by so much effort and emotion, had lost interest in her daughter’s sorrows, and she merely cast Kit a look of loathing before sinking into a corner of the chaise, and closing her eyes.
Kit went back to the Blue saloon. Cressy was still there, standing where he had left her, with her back to the fireplace. She said seriously, as soon as he came in: ‘She ought to have been offered some refreshment, you know. I did think of it, but I was in dread that at any moment someone might hear voices in here, and come in – Lady Denville, perhaps, or Mrs Cliffe.’
‘I don’t think Mama would have been any more perturbed than you were, but God forbid that my uncle should get wind of it!’ He shut the door, and stood looking across the room at her. ‘Cressy, what did you mean when you told that harridan that your affections were engaged?’
The colour deepened a little in her cheeks, but she replied lightly: ‘Well, she talked so much like someone in a bad play that I became carried away myself! Besides, I had to say something to convince her! I could see she didn’t quite believe me when I said I wasn’t going to marry your brother.’
He let his breath go in a long sigh, and walked forward, setting his hands on her shoulders, and saying: ‘You don’t know how much I have wanted to tell you the truth! Cressy, my dear one, forgive me! I’ve treated you abominably, and I love you so much!’
Miss Stavely, who had developed an interest in the top button of his coat, looked shyly up at this. ‘Do you, Kit?’ she asked. ‘Truly?’
Mr Fancot, preferring actions to words, said nothing whatsoever in answer to this, but took her in his arms and kissed her. Miss Stavely, who had previously thought him unfailingly gentle and courteous, perceived, in the light of this novel experience, that she had been mistaken: there was nothing gentle about Mr Fancot’s crushing embrace; and his behaviour in paying no heed at all to her faint protest could only be described as extremely uncivil. She was wholly unused to such treatment, and she had a strong suspicion that her grandmother would condemn her conduct in submitting to it, but as Mr Fancot seemed to be dead to all sense of propriety it was clearly useless to argue with him.
Several minutes later, sitting within the circle of Kit’s arm on the sofa lately occupied by Mrs Alperton, she said: ‘Why did you do it, Kit? It seems quite fantastic!’
‘Of course it was – infamous as well! I beg your pardon, even though I can’t be sorry I did it. If I hadn’t come home that night, I might never have known you – or have known you only as Evelyn’s wife!’
This terrible thought caused him to tighten his arm involuntarily. She soothed him by softly kissing his cheek, and by saying, as soon as she had recovered her breath: ‘But I don’t think I should have married Denville. I had so very nearly made up my mind not to when I met you! Then I thought – being so grossly deceived – that perhaps I would, after all. But why was I deceived?’
‘I did it to get Evelyn out of a scrape,’ he confessed. ‘No one but Mama, and Fimber, and Challow knew I wasn’t in Vienna; and in the old days, when we were prime for any lark, we often did exchange identities, and only those who knew us very well ever found us out. So I was pretty certain I could carry it off. But when I took Evelyn’s place at that first dinner-party it was in the belief that it would be for one occasion only. If I had known that I should be obliged to maintain the hoax, nothing would have prevailed upon me to have yielded to Mama’s persuasions!’
Her eyes danced. ‘I knew it! She did persuade you!’
‘Yes, but I must own,’ said Kit scrupulously, ‘that I put the notion into her head – not in the least meaning to do so, but by saying, in a funning way, that if Evelyn didn’t come back in time to attend that party I should be obliged to take his place. Only to make her laugh! You see, I found her in the deuce of a pucker, because Evelyn was still absent, although he had been expected to return to London days earlier. I thought then that he had been delayed by some trifling hitch, so I consented to run that rig, though it went very much against the pluck with me. Can you understand, Cressy? The circumstances – the intolerable slight offered you if Evelyn failed to appear at a gathering assembled to make his acquaintance – !’
‘Indeed I can!’ she responded instantly. ‘I don’t blame you at all – I am even grateful to you for having spared me such a daunting humiliation! What did delay Evelyn?’
‘I don’t k
now.’
She had been leaning against his shoulder, but she sat up at this. ‘You don’t know? But – Where is Evelyn?’
‘I don’t know that either. That’s the devil of it!’ he said frankly. ‘At the outset, I thought merely – not that he had forgotten his engagement in Mount Street, but that he had confused the date of it.’
‘Very likely,’ she agreed. ‘He does forget, you know! People joke him about his shocking memory, and I am acquainted with one hostess who makes it a rule to send him a reminder on the day of her party!’
The rueful smile lit his eyes. ‘Yes, but that’s not it. He has been absent for too long. I think some accident befell him. That’s why I came home in such a bang. I can’t explain that to you, but we do know, each of us, when the other has suffered an injury. He knew it, a year ago, when I broke my leg – not the nature of the accident, but that I had sustained some hurt – and the express I sent him arrived only just in time to stop him posting off to Dover to board the next packet!’
‘I remember,’ she said. ‘Godmama said it was the uncomfortable part of being a twin! And you felt that?’
He frowned slightly. ‘Yes, I did. For several days, I – But it left me, that feeling, so completely that I wondered if my imagination had been playing me false. Something must have happened to him, but it wasn’t a fatal accident, and I don’t think he is any longer troubled in mind.’
‘As he was when he steeled himself to make me an offer?’ said Cressy, unable to resist temptation. ‘Ah, well! I have been for too long at my last prayers to feel the least surprise at that!’
‘Yes, love, indeed!’ agreed Mr Fancot, unhandsomely refusing the gambit. ‘So old cattish as you are!’
‘Odious wretch!’ Her brows drew together. ‘Yes, but I still don’t understand! Having so steeled himself, why did he go away at just that moment?’
‘As far as we know,’ replied Kit carefully, ‘he went to redeem from Lord Silverdale, who was said to be in Brighton, a brooch which my mama had lost to him at play.’
False Colours Page 19