Cressida

by Clare Darcy

  The set ended; Cressida was claimed by Lord Langmere, who came, as he had promised, to take her down to supper; and the next she saw of Rossiter he was, astoundingly, seated in the supper-room in a group comprising Lady Constance and the dowager to whom he had been talking in the ballroom, the dowager’s daughter, Captain Harries, Kitty, and the now perfectly tongue-tied third son of a baronet who had been dancing with her.

  “Birds of a feather,” said Addison, pausing beside the chair in which Lord Langmere had installed Cressida while he went to fill a plate for her, “do not, it appears, always flock together. I refer, my dear Cressy, to your friend Captain Rossiter and that extraordinarily motley crew he has gathered round him. Three sucking babes, a pair of dowagers, and poor Captain Harries, who is regarding your Miss Chenevix rather as if he were a devout Muslim discovering his first houri at the gates of Paradise. If I am mixing my metaphors rather badly, it is because I have been reduced to a state of utter confusion by this grouping. Can you explain it to me? Dolly, I fear, is about to scratch Lady Con’s eyes out with jealousy, and in point of fact I believe it may well come to pistols at twenty paces on Paddington Green between them if Lady Con does not relinquish Rossiter to her soon.”

  To Cressida’s relief, Lord Langmere’s arrival at that moment with a pair of plates abundantly heaped with the creams, aspics, and Chantillies provided for her guests by Lady Dalingridge prevented her from answering this speech directly, and she applied herself assiduously to her plate while Addison and several other members of her coterie who had also stopped beside her chair on their way to the buffet made witty conversation over their hostess’s disappointment and Rossiter’s odd choice of supper companions.

  Her own mind was in a puzzle. Could it be possible, she asked herself, that Rossiter had indeed been so taken by Kitty that he was willing to endure what must be the decidedly dull conversation of his present companions for the sake of being near her? The girl was well enough, certainly, and she as certainly appeared to advantage that evening in the shimmering spider-gauze gown; but she was not a Beauty, and her quiet stye of good looks was not the sort to strike a man like a coup de foudre.

  The only feasible explanation of the situation appeared to be the one presented to her earlier by Lord Langmere—that Rossiter’s intention in returning to England had been to settle himself in life, and that for this purpose he was looking about him as expeditiously as possible for a suitable bride.

  That this explanation was also looming large in Lady Constance’s mind was made evident to Cressida as soon as they were all seated in Lord Langmere’s carriage on their way back to Mount Street at the end of the ball. She was full of Kitty’s success that evening—“If you will believe it, my dear, outside of the waltzes, which of course I would not permit her to stand up for, she was obliged to sit out only two dances!”—and in particular of Rossiter, who, from being a monster intent upon ruining Kitty’s reputation, had become “a most delightful man, such odd, abrupt manners but truly a most interesting conversationalist! And so taken with Kitty! Indeed, he complimented me on her being such an agreeable girl, not at all coming, like so many modern young ladies— not that I could take credit for that, and so I told him, though of course it was I who had instructed her as to how she was to conduct herself at a London ball. ”

  Lord Langmere, living up to his reputation as a good-humoured man, said that he was sure Miss Chenevix had quite deserved her success, and that he himself had very much enjoyed his own dance with her. Kitty smiled at him—was it, Cressida wondered suddenly, that little smile, so modest and self-deprecating, that had taken Rossiter in that roomful of chattering, flaunting females?—but said nothing. The girl had been gazing out the window of the carriage at the London streets, which looked very dark and full of inky shadows in spite of the flaring light cast by the new gas lamps, and Cressida, watching her, imagined there was a thoughtful expression upon her fragile, fair face.

  The conversation continued on Rossiter, but Kitty herself added nothing to it except for an occasional dutiful, “Yes, indeed, ma’am,” in reply to one of Lady Constance’s questions; and only as the carriage halted in Mount Street and the footman sprang down from his perch behind to let down the steps for them to descend did an unsolicited remark fall from her lips.

  “He is very rich—-isn’t he?” she asked in a quiet, abstracted voice, addressing Lady Constance.

  “Oh, my dear, yes—rich enough to buy an Abbey, if one can credit all one hears!” Lady Constance said promptly; and then, in a confusion of trailing gowns, evening mantles, and reticules, the three ladies, assisted by Lord Langmere, descended from the carriage and went inside.

  CHAPTER 6

  “I expect,” said Lady Constance to Cressida with some satisfaction over the breakfast-table the next morning, “that we shall have Rossiter calling here today. He asked me last evening if he might, and, as taken as he appeared to be with Kitty, I daresay he will not let the grass grow under his feet. She is altering that blue jaconet muslin carriage-dress you gave her at this very moment, in the event he should ask her to go for a drive with him. I told her Moodle might very well do it for her, but you know how she dislikes making additional work for the servants. Really, it is scarcely to be wondered at that Rossiter finds her so very attractive! Her manners so captivating— simple and composed, with not the least hint of missishness, which you know always puts gentlemen off. And she attends with such interest to what one is saying—” “What did Rossiter find to say to her?” Cressida broke in to ask, for in truth this matter had given her mind a considerable amount of occupation during the unaccountably wakeful hours she had spent before she had at last fallen asleep the night before. “I should think they must have nothing in common.”

  “Not a bit of it,” said Lady Constance superbly. “Kitty has an excellent understanding, and is quite capable of taking an interest in any topic a gentleman may choose to discuss with her. And I must say that it is not at all difficult to do so when Captain Rossiter is on the subject of the new steam railways, which he says will quite replace horses in the future. I well remember my dear Jeremy taking me to see Mr. Trevithick’s Catch me who can when it was exhibited here in London some years ago, though of course I understood nothing of the principle upon which it ran when he tried to explain it to me. But I am persuaded that Kitty will understand perfectly if Rossiter ever attempts to explain it to her. ”

  It was on the tip of Cressida’s tongue to say that Kitty would certainly give an excellent performance of a young lady perfectly understanding even the most abstruse details of anything Rossiter chose to explain to her; but she bit the words back, surprised and half ashamed that she should so much as have formulated them in her mind. She had no reason, she told herself, to believe that Kitty was dissembling in anything she said or did, whether in regard to Rossiter or upon any other matter; and yet the girl’s quiet words as they had descended from the carriage the night before—“He is very rich—isn’t he?”—still lingered disagreeably in her mind.

  She could not prevent herself from feeling that all Kitty’s interest in Rossiter lay in those words—and why should it not? she asked herself irritably. Kitty would not be the first penniless girl to look prudently for the fortune involved before she gave her heart: every young female was not so rash as Cressy Calverton had been when she had bestowed her affections, without a thought for the future, upon an impecunious soldier.

  Meanwhile, Lady Constance, quite unaware that she had lost her audience, was continuing upon her subject, debating with herself when it might be convenient for Kitty to have the carriage to convey her to Hans Town to visit her aunt Mills—“for she does not wish to be backward in any attention to her, of course, and it would be only proper for her to call and enquire as to her aunt’s present state of health, now that she is in London. Really, I cannot help but think, after last night, that it was truly providential that Mrs. Mills was taken ill so inconveniently, for if Kitty had been with her she would never have receiv
ed a card to the Dalingridges’ ball and have met Captain Rossiter. It is as I always say—such things are meant. And I am sure dear Kitty deserves any good fortune that may come to her on the head of it.”

  Cressida, who had by this time had quite enough of Kitty, Mrs. Mills, and Rossiter, said hastily that Kitty might have the carriage that very afternoon if it suited her and escaped from the table, hoping that she might go upstairs, don her hat and gloves, and be out of the house upon a round of morning-calls before Rossiter—if indeed Lady Constance was correct in her assessment of his intentions—appeared upon the doorstep.

  But her luck was quite out, for just as she was descending the staircase the knocker sounded, and she arrived in the hall below precisely as Harbage trod across its black-and-white lozenge floor and admitted Rossiter.

  He saw her at once and, abandoning his curly-brimmed beaver and stick to Harbage, came forward towards her.

  “An unexpected piece of ill fortune, my arriving at this moment, ” he said coolly, as if reading her mind. “No doubt you would have denied yourself if we had not chanced to meet in this way, or, better still”—regarding her hat and gloves—“you would have been out of the house altogether and have been under no necessity to see me. But you needn’t vex yourself: I have not called to see you, but Miss Chenevix.”

  Cressida, who had been, after a night’s chastening reflection, reluctantly prepared to acknowledge that she had acted badly the previous evening and to behave towards Rossiter with proper civility when next she encountered him, stiffened at this sardonic greeting.

  “Miss Chenevix is abovestairs, I believe,” she said coldly, quite forgetting all her good resolutions in a moment. “Harbage will inform her that you are here. Will you go into the drawing room until she comes down?” “I should prefer it to being frozen to death here,” Rossiter said frankly, as Harbage went off “Unless, of course, you intend to continue the chilling process there until Miss Chenevix appears?” His manner altered abruptly. “Good God, Cressy, can we never meet without coming to dagger-drawing with each other?” he demanded, frowning. “That business between us has been over and done with these seven years—”

  “Good morning, Captain Rossiter,” said a quiet voice above them. Cressida and Rossiter looked up to see Kitty walking down the stairs toward them, a smile of pleasure upon her face. “How kind of you to call! she went on, holding out her hand to Rossiter rather shyly as she reached the foot of the stairs, and then glancing, as if in slight uncertainty, towards Cressida. “I believe, though, that Miss Calverton is just on the point of going out—”

  “I have not come to see Miss Calverton, but to ask you to go for a drive with me,” Rossiter said promptly. “I have a new team I am trying this morning—Welsh-bred greys—and it occurred to me that, since it is such a splendid day, you might enjoy driving into the country, to Richmond Park, perhaps.”

  “Oh, I should like it above all things!” Kitty said at once. And then, breaking off and looking questioningly at Cressida, “That is,” she emended, “if there is nothing that Miss Calverton wishes me to do for her instead—

  “Nonsense! What should there be?” Cressida said briskly. “You are in London to enjoy yourself, so you must do whatever pleases you. Captain Rossiter, I shall bid you good morning. ”

  And she walked out the front door and down the steps to her waiting carriage, trying to stifle the captious thought that Kitty had come down the stairs with such suspicious promptness as to suggest she had not needed Harbage’s announcement to inform her of Rossiter’s arrival, having been on the watch for it from her window, and that, furthermore, she had been so well prepared to accept his offer to take her for a drive, in spite of that deferential little speech offering to forego her own pleasure at a word from Cressida, that she had already donned the blue jaconet muslin carriage-dress she had just been altering.

  Cressida was about to step into her barouche when the sound of another vehicle approaching caused her to look up, and she saw Captain Harries reining in a smart phaeton before her door. She waited on the flagway as he handed his reins to his groom and then, jumping down quickly, came over to greet her.

  “Good morning!” she said, smiling up at him. “Have you come to call upon us? You must be disappointed then, I fear! As you see, I am off to pay some morning-calls myself, and Miss Chenevix, too, is on the point of driving to Richmond Park with Captain Rossiter.” She saw the quick shadow that crossed his face and said on impulse, “If you would care to, Captain Harries, why not come with me? I am not planning to visit any formidable great ladies this morning, but only a very agreeable friend of mine who lives all year in the country and will talk to you of nothing but horses, and then I must go on to see another lady who was a godchild of my great-aunt’s and whom I have not clapped eyes on in a dozen years—strictly a duty call, and you may support me if it chances that she is insupportably dull!”

  Captain Harries, who was well aware, after the observations he had made at last evening’s ball, that the invitation Miss Calverton had just extended to him would be considered extremely flattering by a great many gentlemen of far more exalted position than his own, stammered that he would be honoured.

  “Good! Come into my carriage then,” Cressida said, issuing an order to one of her footmen to see that the Captain’s own phaeton was properly taken care of. Captain Harries handed her into the barouche, and was in the act of seating himself beside her when the front door of the house opened once more and Kitty, now wearing bonnet and gloves, emerged, accompanied by Rossiter. A quick flush came up in Captain Harnes’s face, while at the same time it seemed to Cressida that a flash of displeasure appeared momentarily in Rossiter’s eyes as he perceived that his friend had already apparently got upon such intimate terms with her as to be carried off captive in her carriage.

  “Good heavens, can he really be so idiotish as to believe I am deliberately getting up a flirtation with Captain Harries, and mean to turn his head, or drive him to dissipation, or whatever it is that unscrupulous females are presumed to do to innocent young men?” she thought, with some indignation upon her own part, and told the coachman to drive on without allowing Rossiter time to approach the carriage.

  As a result of this notion she spoke very kindly to Captain Harries as they drove through the busy London streets, but so firmly in the tone of a more experienced elder sister that Captain Harries, who had several older sisters of his own, felt quite at ease with her, and before long was confiding in her with even less reserve than he had done the previous evening at the ball.

  “You can’t think what a difference it makes to find that someone like you, who is at the very top of the trees—oh, yes, I’ve learned that much by time!—is such a—well, such a regular right un,” he said ingenuously, which made Cressida laugh and tell him if he ever found himself in the briars because of someone who wasn’t a regular right un to come to her and she would help him to extricate himself with the least possible amount of trouble.

  “Thank you, Miss Calverton,” said the Captain, who was really grateful because he saw that, in spite of the laughter, she meant what she said. “But if you mean in Society, I don’t think I’ll stay in it long enough to fall into the briars. I only came up to London to please Dev, and I’d be thinking of going back to Devonshire now if it weren’t for—”

  He broke off abruptly, his fair face colouring warmly.

  “If it weren’t for Miss Chenevix?” Cressida finished it for him lightly. “Dev seems to have stolen a march on you there, doesn’t he? But never mind; it is early days still, and I am sure if you set your mind to it you will be able to cut him out. Your manners are far more agreeable than his, you know!”

  The barouche was drawing up at that moment before a narrow house in Half Moon Street, and the Captain’s inarticulate words of protest over his having either the power or the wish to step between his friend and any young lady for whom he might be forming an attachment were lost in the bustle of descending from the carriage. Inside t
he house Captain Harries found himself, as Cressida had predicted, immediately involved in horse-talk with his young and handsome hostess, and, after a very agreeable half hour spent in this fashion, was able to face the succeeding call with a great deal more equanimity than he would have believed possible when he had set out from Mount Street with Cressida a short time before.

  The second call, however, which was in Keppel Street, turned out to be rather less in his line than the first, for the hostess and all her morning-callers were respectably middle-aged or elderly ladies, who talked to one another confidentially about their respective illnesses and looked rather askance at the sight of such a very large young man invading what the Captain was mentally characterising as their hen-roost. To his relief, the conversation seemed to be of no greater interest to Cressida than it was to him, and after paying her devoirs formally to Mrs. Torrance, their hostess, she cast him a glance indicating that she was prepared to take her departure, when the arrival of a new caller and the round of introductions it entailed momentarily put a halt to her intention.