She threw him one of her saucy smiles, and set Salamanca caracoling.
“Oh, pray be careful!” exclaimed Miss Wraxton. “It is very dangerous! Charles, stop her! We shall have everyone staring at us!”
“You won’t mind if I shake the fidgets out of his legs!” Sophy called. “He is itching for a gallop!”
With that, she wheeled Salamanca about, and let him have his head down the stretch of tan that lay beside the carriage road.
“Yoicks!” uttered Mr. Wraxton, and set off in pursuit.
“My dear Charles, what is to be done with her?” said Miss Wraxton. “Galloping in the Park, and in that habit, which I should blush to wear! I was never more shocked!”
“Yes,” he agreed, his eyes on the diminishing figure in the distance. “But, by God, she can ride!”
“Of course, if you mean to encourage her in such pranks there is no more to be said.”
“I don’t,” he replied briefly.
She was displeased and said coldly, “I must confess that I do not admire her style. I am reminded of nothing so much as the equestriennes at Astley’s Amphitheatre. Shall we canter?”
In this sedate way they rode side by side down the tan until they saw Sophy galloping back to them, Mr. Wraxton still in pursuit. Sophy reined in, wheeled, and fell in beside her cousin. “How much I enjoyed that!” she said, her cheeks in a glow. “I have not been on Salamanca’s back for over a week. But tell me! Have I done wrong? So many prim persons stared as though they could not believe their eyes!”
“You should not ride in that neck-or-nothing fashion in the Park,” Charles replied. “I should have warned you.”
“You should indeed! I was afraid it might be that. Never mind! I will be good now, and if anyone speaks of it to you you will say that it is only your poor little cousin from Portugal, who has been so badly brought up that there is no doing anything about it.” She leaned forward to speak across him to Miss Wraxton. “I appeal to you, Miss Wraxton! You are a horsewoman! Is it not insupportable to be held down to a canter when you long to gallop for miles?”
“Most irksome,” agreed Miss Wraxton. At this moment Alfred Wraxton rejoined them, calling out, “By Jove, Miss Stanton-Lacy, you will take the shine out of them all! You are nothing to her, Eugenia!”
“We cannot go four abreast,” said Miss Wraxton ignoring this remark. “Charles, fall behind with Alfred! I cannot converse with Miss Stanton-Lacy across you.”
He complied with this request, and Miss Wraxton bringing her mare alongside Salamanca, said with all the tact upon which she plumed herself. “I am persuaded that you must find our London ways strange at first.”
“Why, I imagine they cannot differ greatly from those of Paris, or Vienna, or even Lisbon!” said Sophy.
“I have never visited those cities, but I believe — indeed, I am sure — that the tone of London is vastly superior,” said Miss Wraxton.
Her air of calm certainty struck Sophy as being so funny that she went into a peal of laughter. “Oh, I beg your pardon!” she gasped. “But it is so ridiculous, you know!”
“I expect it must seem so to you,” agreed Miss Wraxton, her calm quite unimpaired. “I understand that a great deal of license is permitted on the Continent to females. Here it is not so. Quite the reverse! To be thought bad ton, dear Miss Stanton-Lacy, would be very dreadful. I know that you will not take it amiss if I give you a hint. You will of course wish to attend the Assemblies at Almack’s, for instance. I assure you, the veriest breath of criticism to reach the ears of the Patronesses, and you may say farewell to any hope of obtaining a voucher from them. Tickets may not be purchased without a voucher, you know. It is most exclusive! The rules, too, are very strict, and must not be contravened by a hairsbreadth.”
“You terrify me,” said Sophy. “Do you think I shall be blackballed?”
Miss Wraxton smiled. “Hardly, since you will make your debut under dear Lady Ombersley’s aegis! She will no doubt, tell you just how you should conduct yourself, if her health permits her to take you there. It is unfortunate that circumstances have prevented me from occupying that position which would have enabled me to have relieved her of such duties.”
“Forgive me!” interrupted Sophy, whose attention had been wandering, “but I think Madame de Lieven is waving to me, and it would be very uncivil not to notice her!”
She rode off as she spoke, to where a smart barouche was drawn up beside the track, and leaned down from her saddle to shake the languid hand held up to her.
“Sophie!” pronounced the Countess. “Sir Horace told me I should meet you here. You were galloping ventre a terre. Never do so again! Ah, Mrs. Burrell, permit me to present to you Miss Stanton-Lacy!”
The lady seated beside the Ambassador’s wife bowed slightly, and allowed her lips to relax into an infinitesimal smile. This expanded a little when she observed Miss Wraxton, following in Sophy’s wake, and she inclined her head, a great mark of condescension.
Countess Lieven nodded to Miss Wraxton, but went on talking to Sophy. “You are staying with Lady Ombersley. I am a little acquainted with her, and I shall call. She will spare you to me perhaps one evening. You have not seen Princess Esterhazy yet, or Lady Jersey? I shall tell them I have met you, and they will want to hear how Sir Horace does. What did I promise Sir Horace I would do? Ah, but of course! Almack’s! I will send you a voucher, ma chere Sophie, but do not gallop in Hyde Park.” She then told her coachman to drive on, included the whole of Sophy’s party in her slight, valedictory smile and turned to continue her interrupted conversation with Mrs. Drummond Burrell.
“I was not aware that you are acquainted with the Countess Lieven,” said Miss Wraxton.
“Do you dislike her?” Sophy asked, aware of the coldness in Miss Wraxton’s voice. “Many people do, I know. Sir Horace calls her the great intrigante, but she is clever and can be very amusing. She has a tendre for him, as I daresay you have guessed. I like Princess Esterhazy better myself, I own, and Lady Jersey better than either of them, because she is so much more sincere, in spite of that restless manner of hers.”
“Dreadful woman!” said Charles. “She never stops talking! She is known as Silence, in London.”
“Is she? Well, I am sure, if she knows it, she does not care a bit, for she dearly loves a joke.”
“You are fortunate knowing so many of the Patronesses of Almack’s,” observed Miss Wraxton.
Sophy gave her irrepressible chuckle. “To be honest, I think my good fortune lies in having such an accomplished flirt for a father!”
Mr. Wraxton giggled at this, and his sister, dropping a little behind, brought her mare up on Mr. Rivenhall’s other side, and said in a low tone, under cover of some quizzing remark made to Sophy by Mr. Wraxton: “It is a pity that men will laugh when her liveliness betrays her into saying what cannot be thought becoming. It brings her too much into notice, and that, I fancy, is the root of the evil.”
He raised his brows. “You are severe! Do you dislike her?”
“Oh, no, no!” she said quickly. “It is merely that I have no great taste for just that kind of sportive playfulness.”
He looked as though he would have liked to have said something more, but at this moment a very military-looking cavalcade came into sight, cantering easily toward them. It consisted of four gentlemen, whose dashing side whiskers and soldierly bearing proclaimed their profession. They glanced idly at Mr. Rivenhall’s party. The next instant there was a shout, and a hurried reining in, and one of the quartet exclaimed in ringing accents, “By all that’s wonderful, it’s the Grand Sophy!”
Confusion and babel followed this, all four gentlemen pressing up to grasp Sophy’s hand and pelting her with questions. Where had she sprung from? How long had she been in England? Why had they not been told of her arrival? How was Sir Horace?
“Oh, but, Sophy, you’re a sight for sore eyes!” declared Major Quinton, who had first hailed her.
“You have Salamanca still! Lord, do
you remember riding, him, when you were almost snapped up by old Soult?”
“Sophy, what’s your direction? Are you living in London now? Where’s Sir Horace?”
She was laughing, trying to answer them all, while her horse sidled, and fidgeted, and tossed his head. “Ah! Never mind about me! What are you all doing in England. I thought you in France still! Don’t tell me you have sold!”
“Debenham has, lucky dog! I’m on furlough. We’re stationed in England — what a thing it is to belong to the Gentlemen’s Sons — and Talgarth has become a great man, almost a Tiger! Yes, I assure you! A.D.C. to the Duke York. You notice the air of consequence. But he is condescension, not the least height in his manner — yet!”
“Silence, rattle!” said his victim. He was rather older than his companions, a handsome, dark man, with a decided of fashion and a languid manner. “Dear Sophy, I am tolerably certain that you cannot have been in London above many days. Not the smallest rumor of any volcanic disturbance I come to my ears, and you know how quick I am to get all of the news!”
She laughed. “Oh, that is too bad of you, Sir Vincent, but I don’t create disturbances. You know I don’t!”
“I know nothing of the kind, my child. When last I saw you, you were engaged in arranging in the most ruthless fashion the affairs of the most bewildered family of Belgians I have yet encountered. They had all my sympathy, there was nothing I could do to help them. I know my limitations.”
“Those poor Le Bruns! Well, but someone had to help them out of such a tangle! I assure you, everything was settled most satisfactorily! But come! I forget my manners in all this excitement! Miss Wraxton, do pray forgive me, and allow me to present to you Colonel Sir Vincent Talgarth, and beside him, Colonel Debenham. And this is Major Titus Quinton, and — oh, dear, ought I to have said your name first, Francis? It is one of the things I never know, but no matter! Captain Lord Francis Wolvey! And this is my cousin Mr. Rivenhall. Oh, and Mr. Wraxton also!”
Miss Wraxton inclined her head politely; Mr. Rivenhall, bowing slightly to the rest of the party, addressed himself to Lord Francis, saying, “I don’t think I ever met you, but your brother and I were up at Oxford together.”
Lord Francis leaned forward in his saddle to shake him by the hand. “Now I know who you are!” he announced. “You are Charles Rivenhall! Thought I couldn’t be mistaken! How do you do? Do you still box? Freddy was used to say he never knew an amateur with a more punishing right!”
Mr. Rivenhall laughed. “Did he? He felt it often enough, but I take no credit for that. He was always glaringly abroad!”
Major Quinton, who had been regarding him intently, said, “Then that is very likely where I have see you. Jackson’s Saloon! You are the fellow Jackson says he might have made into a champion if only you had not been a gentleman!”
This remark naturally beguiled all three gentlemen into a sporting conversation. Mr. Wraxton hung on the outskirts of it, occasionally interpolating a few words which no one paid any heed to; Sophy smiled benignly to see her friends and her cousin so happily absorbed; and Colonel Debenham, who had excellent manners, and a kind heart, began to make painstaking conversation to Miss Wraxton. By tacit consent, the military gentlemen turned to accompany Mr. Rivenhall’s party up the track, and the entire cavalcade moved forward at a walking pace.
Sophy found that Sir Vincent had brought his horse up to walk beside hers, and said suddenly, “Sir Vincent, you are the very man I need! Let us draw a little ahead!”
“Nothing in this life, enchanting Juno, could afford me more pleasure!” he instantly responded. “I have no fancy for the Fancy. On no account tell anyone that I said that! It is quite unworthy of me! Are you about to transport me by accepting a heart laid often at your feet and as often spurned? Something informs me that I indulge my optimism too far and that you are going to demand of me some service that will plunge me into a morass of trouble and end in my being cashiered.”
“Nothing of the sort!” declared Sophy. “But I never knew anyone, other than Sir Horace, whose judgment I would rather trust when it comes to buying a horse. Sir Vincent, I want to purchase a pair for my phaeton!”
They had by this time considerably outdistanced the rest of the party. Sir Vincent made his roan drop to a walk, and said brokenly, “Allow me a moment in which to recover my manhood! So that is all the use you have for me!”
“Don’t be so absurd!” said Sophy. “What better could I have for anyone?”
“Dear Juno, I have told you a great many times, and shall tell you no more!”
“Sir Vincent,” said Sophy severely, “you have dangled after every heiress who has come in your way from the day I first met you.”
“Shall I ever forget it? You had lost a front tooth and tore your dress.”
“Very likely. Though I have not the least doubt that you don’t recall the occasion at all and have this instant made that up. You are a more hardened flirt even than Sir Horace, and you only offer for me because you know I shall not accept your suit. My fortune cannot be large enough to tempt you.”
“That,” acknowledged Sir Vincent, “is true. But better men than I, my dear Sophy, have been known to cut their coats to suit their cloth.”
“Yes, but I am not your cloth, and you know very well that indulgent though he may be, Sir Horace would never permit me to marry you, even if I wished to, which I do not.”
“Oh, very well!” sighed Sir Vincent. “Let us talk of horseflesh then!”
“The thing is,” confided Sophy, “that I was obliged to sell my carriage horses when we left Lisbon, and Sir Horace had no time to attend to the matter before he sailed for Brazil. He said my cousin would advise me, but he was quite out! He will not.”
“Charles Rivenhall,” said Sir Vincent, looking at her from under drooping eyelids, “is held to be no bad judge of a horse. What mischief are you brewing, Sophy?”
“None. He has said he will not stir in the matter, and also, that it would be improper for me to visit Tattersall’s. Is that true?”
“Well, it would certainly be unusual.”
“Then I won’t do it. My aunt would be distressed, and she has enough to plague her already... Where else can I buy a pair that will suit me?”
He gazed meditatively ahead between his horse’s ears. “I wonder if you would care to buy two of Manningtree’s breakdowns before they come into the open market?” he said presently. “Quite done up, poor fellow, and is selling off all his cattle. What’s your figure, Sophy?”
“Sir Horace told me not above four hundred, unless I saw a pair it would be a crime not to buy.”
“Manningtree would sell you his match bays for less than that. As handsome a pair as you could wish for. I should buy them myself if I had a feather to fly with.”
“Where may I see them?
“Leave that to me. I’ll arrange it. What’s your direction?”
“At Lord Ombersley’s house in Berkeley Square, that big one, at the corner!”
“Of course. So he is your uncle, is he?”
“No, but his wife is my aunt.”
“And Charles Rivenhall is therefore your cousin. Well, well! How do you contrive to amuse yourself, my Sophy?”
“I own, I did wonder how I should do so, but I find that the whole family is in a sad tangle, poor dears, and I do hope I may be able to make them more comfortable!”
“I have no particular liking for your uncle, who is one of my esteemed Chief’s cronies; on the only occasion when I solicited your beautiful cousin Cecilia to dance with me at Almack’s her forbidding brother forestalled me in a fashion as swift as it was crude. Someone ought to tell him that I am only interested in heiresses; and yet my withers are strangely wrung! Almost my heart goes out to the family. Do they tread blindly toward their doom, Sophy, or did they willingly receive a firebrand into their midst?”
She gave a chuckle. “They tread blindly, but I am not a firebrand!”
“No, I used the wrong word. You are lik
e poor Whinyates’s rockets; no one knows what you will do next!”
Chapter 6
“Is the knocker never still?” demanded Charles of his mother, after the departure of the fourth morning caller in one day.
“Never!” she replied proudly. “Since that day when you took dear Sophy riding in the Park, I have received seven gentlemen — no, eight, counting Augustus Fawnhope; Princess Esterhazy, the Countess Lieven, Lady Jersey, and Lady Castlereagh have all left cards; and — ”
“Was Talgarth amongst those who called, ma’am?”
She wrinkled her brow. “Talgarth? Oh, yes! A most amiable man, with side whiskers! To be sure he was!”
“Take care!” he warned her. “That connection will not do!’“
She was startled. “Charles, what can you mean? He seems to be on terms of great friendship with Sophy, and she told me Sir Horace had been acquainted with him for years!
“I daresay, but if my uncle means to bestow Sophy upon him he is not the man I take him for! He is said to be a gazetted fortune hunter, and is, besides, a gamester, with more debts than expectations, and such libertine propensities as scarcely render him a desirable catch in the marriage mart!”
“Oh dear!” said Lady Ombersley, dismayed. She wondered whether she ought to tell her son that his cousin had gone out driving with Sir Vincent only a day earlier and decided that no purpose could be served in dwelling on what was past. “Perhaps I should drop a hint in Sophy’s ear.”
“I doubt of its being well received, ma’am. Eugenia has already spoken with her on this subject. All that my cousin saw fit to reply was that she was quite up to snuff and would engage not to allow herself to be seduced by Sir Vincent, or anyone else.”
“Oh, dear,” said Lady Ombersley again. “She really should not say such things!”
“Just so, ma’am!”
“But, though I do not wish to offend you, Charles, I cannot help feeling that perhaps it was not quite wise of Eugenia to have spoken to her on such a subject. You know, my dear, she is not in any way related to Sophy!”
The Grand Sophy Page 9