“I did not imagine,” said he, with a prim smile, “that any cousin of—that creature’s—would prove so charming.” This he considered the height of chivalry, and he beamed.
“Oh! You mustn’t take anything Antonia said to heart, Lord Rollins. Had she known who you were, she would have treated you quite differently, I assure you—for you know, she was most desirous of meeting you, and had many wonderful things to say about her expectations.”
“Hmmph,” returned St. John. “That is not how it struck me. My father would be perfectly black with rage, if he discovered how I was addressed.”
“Oh, dear—then I hope you shan’t mention it to him, my lord! For it was the whole purpose of our visit to England to make your acquaintance, and the Earl’s. We have both been terribly eager to meet you.”
Rollin’s pride was somewhat soothed by all these pretty speeches. He let it be known, by various gapes and leers, that Miss Serena Powell was not the object of his aversion, no matter how much he despised her cousin.
“If you would like to meet my papa, Miss Powell, I think it may be arranged. But I do not think your cousin would find much favor with him. My father would certainly think her incivility unpardonable.”
Just then Lady Pendleton, standing a little distance away, caught Serena’s eye, and by means of several exaggerated winks and waves, communicated her desire to leave. The young lady had hardly finished her business, and took her leave of the Viscount with much regret, hoping he would not immediately write to the Earl. St. John, however, took her regretful parting to be a sign of the great impression he had made upon her, and, just as she was beginning to move off, he seized her hand and planted a wet kiss upon it.
“I shall see you very soon, I am sure,” muttered he passionately.
“Oh!” cried an amazed Serena, “to be sure!”
She moved off rather hurriedly then, hoping to avoid any further planting of wet lips upon her flesh.
Chapter XX
Freddy was lost in a gloom.
“Hell and damnation!” he muttered aloud. “Why in Heaven’s name did God put women upon earth?”
“So that He might have some peace,” returned Cuffs, who looked not much better than his friend. The two were ensconced in the little sitting room in St. James Street, which served Freddy equally as dining room, drawing room, and writing room. A tray with glasses and a decanter—long since emptied—stood between them upon a little table. The two men, similarly depressed, were arranged in slightly different postures of physical disarray. Freddy, his neckcloth loosened, sprawled in an easy chair, his Hessianed legs hooked over the arm, his feet dangling dejectedly, whilst Cuffs, in his catlike way, had somehow knotted his legs together beneath him, so that neither was clearly visible, and both looked like vines. His arms were crossed upon his chest, and his eyes looked mournful.
Freddy glanced at the little writing trunk upon his friend’s lap, and said, “Well, at least you can write poetry, Cuffs! I have nothing to assuage my grief but wine.”
“Which you had better have less of, old man. Anyhow, it is not poetry—it’s a letter to Miss Powell. But I think I shan’t send it.”
“Oh, do!” cried Freddy, rising out of his chair with an impatient movement, and waving his arms. “Do, do! At least she’ll read it. Anyhow, it’s better than doing nothing. To think she could have taken up with St. John, of all people! I suppose they’re all alike—true virtue means nothing to ’em; only lucre. Lucre and titles.”
Cuffs looked absently up, and cocked his head to one side, thinking. Meanwhile Freddy paced up and down, turning at about every four steps, for the room was small.
“Of course,” said Freddy, brightening, “you could tell her you’re to be a duke, old man! Then she’d come round, I expect.”
“I hope not—not for that!” exclaimed Cuffs, reddening.
“That’s right, that’s right—make ’em pay! She’ll regret it, right enough.”
“Oh, bosh, Freddy,” returned Cuffs irritably. “Do shut up and sit down.” Sighing, he added, “I cannot believe it! I simply cannot believe it.”
“Well, there’s got to be some way out of this mess, old chap,” declared Freddy after some moments. As precisely the same phrase had issued from his lips at least a dozen times in the last days, Cuffs paid his friend no heed. Instead, he untwined his legs and twined them up again, the other way.
Freddy watched the maneuver with admiration. “How d’you do that?”
“Do what?”
“That thingumee with your legs. Looks as if you had no bones!”
Frederick received a withering look, and subsided into his chair again. There he remained, listening to the disturbance in his own head for some moments, until his valet appeared in the doorway.
“Lady Pendleton to see you, sir,” said the valet, looking impressed. Her ladyship had seldom deigned to lend her presence to these rooms.
Freddy glanced suspiciously at Cuffs. “What now?” he muttered. “Well, let her in, then!”
“I’m in, my dear boy, already,” came the voice of her ladyship, suiting the action to the word. Swathed in rose brocade, dangling a tiny reticule from her minute fingers, her large head, with its multitudinous silver ringlets nodding distractedly beneath a most remarkable bonnet, to which there seemed to be attached an entire brood of peacocks, her ladyship advanced.
“Don’t bother to unwind yourself, Mr. Lytton-Smythe,” she remarked to that gentleman, who was trying to make a hurried repair to his cravat, “I have only come for a minute. So provokin’, don’t you agree?”
“I do not,” said Freddy fondly, “have the vaguest idea what you are referring to, Aunt Winifred—but yes, it is all most provokin’!”
Lady Pendleton, regal as the queen, lowered herself into a chair without bothering to glance at it first. Balancing the tiny beaded reticule upon her knee, she perused the scene.
“I am referrin’, Frederick, to the disgraceful mess we are all in! And how much wine have you been drinkin’?”
“Not enough,” replied Freddy mournfully, “to drown the sorrow that I feel!”
“Nonsense! You must have a clear head, my boy. I need you to be thinkin’ clearly.”
“Why, what have you got up your sleeve this time, Auntie?” demanded Freddy suspiciously.
“Mr. Lytton-Smythe,” continued her ladyship, ignoring Freddy, “I hope you have not been drinkin’? I shall need your brain, too, as my nephew is sometimes a bit fuzzy.”
“I am afraid I may not be much better, my lady—we are neither of us in prime condition.”
“Never mind!” said Lady Pendleton, commencing to tap her foot upon the somewhat ragged Turkish carpet. “Three minds shall be better than none. I have been stew-in’ all day about it, and I have determined some action is needed. Bentley is less than no help at all—he keeps bowin’ and sayin’ ‘Yes, my lady,’ ‘No, my lady,’ ‘Very good, my lady’—and lookin’ accusin’ly. What I need is a strategy session. Are you up to it, d’you think?”
Freddy’s eyes had been popping a bit but now they narrowed. “What exactly is it you are talking about, Auntie?”
Mr. Lytton-Smythe had straightened himself out, and now looked almost alert.
“Roland always used to say, ‘When you are in doubt, gather all your best men about you, and have a strategy session—it cleanses the brain.’ I haven’t much faith in the two of you, but you are all I have got, in the way of men: Bentley havin’ proved a very faint-hearted sort of aide-de-camp. Now then!”
The two young men sat up at this, quite like two battle horses hearing the trumpet’s call.
“Yes, Auntie!”
Lady Pendleton gave a delicate cough, and tapped her foot for a moment. “Here is our dilemma: Antonia seems to be flirtin’ shamelessly with Blandford, when she ought to be flirtin’ shamelessly with you, Freddy. And St. John has diverted the attentions of Serena which by rights belong to you, Mr. Lytton-Smythe. Are we all agreed upon the dilemma?”
&n
bsp; Both gentlemen nodded vehemently, quite amazed at the clarity of perception of the Marchioness.
“That about seems to sum it up,” remarked Freddy.
“Added to which,” continued her ladyship, “my own plans have gone ascrew.”
“Askew, Auntie—what plans?”
“Askew then, my dear. Are you quite sure? Yes, I suppose you are. But ‘ascrew’ sounds rather better, I think. What plans, did you say?”
Freddy nodded.
“Why, my plan to—never mind, my dear. It don’t concern you at all.”
But Freddy had been pondering some facts, which, combined with his aunt’s manner, made him suddenly demand, “Auntie—was it you who started all the rumors about the Misses Powell?”
Lady Pendleton looked shocked. “Rumors, my dear? Rumors! Why, I never heard anythin’ about them—what are you talkin’ of?”
“The rumors,” repeated Freddy slowly, eyeing his aunt with narrowed eyes, “which practically preceded their arrival in England. I thought it was rather peculiar that the Princess Lieven had heard so much about them that evening at Almack’s. And everyone I meet, seems to know more about them than I do! Auntie—what have you been doing?”
Lady Pendleton turned a deep color of pink, and pressed her lips together. “Tut, Freddy! What if I have? What is wrong, I should like to know, in letting it be known that I have two most charmin’ young ladies as guests? It cannot hurt anyone!”
Freddy glanced briefly at his friend, who, having un-wound himself a little more, was now gazing in a befuddled sort of way between the young man and the elderly lady.
“Are you quite sure, Auntie?” demanded Freddy. “Is that all you did—simply spread the news of the Misses Powells’ charm? I suppose you never hinted that one of ’em was to marry St. John?”
“What ho!” cried Cuffs, who had suddenly found his tongue. “What is this?”
But Lady Pendleton had pressed her lips together more firmly, and was glaring at her nephew. “Why, Freddy, I am amazed at you! What purpose would it serve to do such a thing?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea, Auntie—but I am sure you do.”
“Lord, child! To hear you go on, one would think you considered me a perfect hypocrite! I am sure I do not know how anything of the kind got about.”
“Yes, you do,” half growled her nephew. “I suppose it could not have anything to do with Father?”
“With your father, dear? Why, what can he have to do with it?”
“I know you don’t like him,” said Freddy, “ever since he called Uncle Roland a fulminating fuddy-dud, you have not forgiven him. I know Father was angry that my uncle did not leave anything in his will to St. John, and has made no secret of saying so.”
Lady Pendleton was sitting very straight, her shoulders back, her head high, and her eyes ablaze.
“Your papa,” she said icily, “is more a fuddy-dud than Roland ever was! Why, he was a soldier and a gentleman, whilst Cumberford has never done anythin’ for anyone, save sit up on his haunches and howl at the moon! He is a perfect numbskull, Freddy—though he is your father—I would dearly love to see his abominatin’ high-handedness debased. There now! I have said it; and you must judge for yourself if I was wrong to hope bringin’ the Misses Powell to England would give him a setdown. I don’t mind sayin’, that I should call my old age worthwhile, if it had once seen him well and truly bested!”
Lady Pendleton stared straight before her, her cheeks on fire, her features set, and her ringlets wobbling with emotion.
Freddy stared. “By God, Auntie! I never dreamed you had taken it so ill! To think all these years you have held your tongue, and plotted Father’s downfall! I suppose it was just for that you went to Philadelphia?”
Her ladyship nodded shortly. “I was in some hope of findin’ a male heir we might propose to dispute the title, but there is no son among ’em—all girls! No one seemed much interested in havin’ the title again anyhow. There was nothin’ for me to do, save invite the young ladies to London, and hope it would give your father the devil of a fright!”
“But Auntie,” interjected Freddy, still looking shaken, “I still don’t see the purpose of all these rumors—what did you mean to do?”
Lady Pendleton bestowed one of those withering looks upon her nephew which he was, by now, well used to receiving, and remarked, “How can you be so slow, my dear? Why, to set them up well and proper, before your papa met ’em—so that he should see they were somethin’ to deal with! And I wanted St. John to fall in love with one of ’em—to give your papa the fright of his life, thinkin’ his precious heir might give away the title to the Yankees again. But of course I thought it would be Antonia he fell in love with—I never counted upon Serena bein’ such a beauty! I could trust Antonia to give him a good settin’-down, for she would not think tuppence about him. But Serena, my dear—she is somethin’ else, altogether. I don’t quite know what to make of her!”
“Nor I of you,” muttered Freddy. Suddenly, however, the preceding shock, dismay, and astonishment at his aunt’s confession gave way to anger: “Do you mean to tell me, Auntie, that you were prepared use the Misses Powell as nothing more than instruments for your own scheming?”
“Nothin’ of the kind!” protested her ladyship, reproach in her eyes. “I meant to give ’em a roarin’ good time, too!”
“But the result of all your efforts seems to have been something else—you’ve set up poor Miss Powell with St. John, breaking the heart of poor Cuffs here—whilst Miss Antonia Powell is making an idiot of herself over a blackguard, who is not sufficiently worthy to polish her boots! St. John is all agloat over his success, and Blandford, who has been borrowing thousands of pounds from the poor fool, shall probably use the funds to elope with Antonia!”
Now Lady Pendleton looked well and truly shocked. “What, my dear, what’s that you are sayin’? Elope with Antonia! Well, good fortune to him, is all I say!”
“I shouldn’t put it past the man,” growled Freddy. “Should you, Cuffs?”
Cuffs, quite nonplussed, shook his head. “If what you say is true, Freddy, about St. John loaning him money, then he must be rather more hard up than I ever thought. How do you happen to know?”
“St. John told me himself, only yesterday. He came here to gloat over an engagement he had made to take Miss Powell driving with him, and happened to mention the fact. He was quite put about that his ‘great friend’ as he calls him—Blandford, that is—was paying Antonia so much attention. But, however, he added it would serve him right!”
Now the three gazed at each other in consternation for several moments. At last, however, Lady Pendleton cleared her throat, and uttered the following: “Well, children, it seems our dilemma is worse than we supposed. I have little fear that Antonia would be such a ninny as to run off with Blandford, though she may—she is a hot-blooded little thing, and then, they are so provokin’ly strange in America—quite forward about such things, I think. However, our first action must be against Serena takin’ it into her head to marry St. John. Do you really believe she would be so foolish?”
The young men shrugged in unison, and Cuffs put in, “She is not foolish, your ladyship, save in her kindheartedness. I know she had taken pity upon him, after his comeuppance with her cousin—that is how all this began, I fear. I can hardly credit her being in love with him—but then, I am prejudiced against the idea.”
“Quite so,” said Lady Pendleton. “I don’t think she is, really, though St. John hovers over her like a mother hen wherever she goes. It is quite fascinatin’ to watch him. I do not think she has much choice but to be civil to him, particularly as Antonia was so insultin’. Well, then! What shall we do?”
It would be fair to say that the young men had both been cherishing the idea that her ladyship might put forward a plan, as she had so far exhibited a very marked degree of ingenuity. They now stared at each other, their faces blank.
“Do?” said Cuffs, “Well, I don’t know there is
much we can do!”
“Tut! There is always somethin’ to be done, Mr. Lytton-Smythe,” returned her ladyship severely. “Think, children!”
“You could take them away to Edgeworth,” ventured Freddy. “You told me you intended taking them there in any case.”
“That might be possible,” admitted her ladyship. “Though not at once—I am givin’ my little dinner tonight, and besides, young ladies do not take kindly to bein’ dragged away from their lovers—I beg your pardon! Antonia, particularly, would take it very ill. She is a stubborn little thing!”
“That is an understatement,” remarked Freddy, scowling. “Besides which, Edgeworth is not ten miles from Widcomb, and Widcomb abutts Blandford’s estate. He might take it into his head to follow her. And, in any case—it would only deprive Cuffs and me of any opportunity of seein’ them!”
“You could lock them up in the tower, my lady—and Freddy and I could serenade them from below,” offered Cuffs, who considered all of this rather foolish. What was the point of trying to dissuade the young ladies against their will? No one could make them love Freddy and himself if they did not wish to!
“Oh, be quiet, Cuffs—think!” exclaimed Freddy.
Lady Pendleton, deep in thought herself, was drumming her fingers against her chin. For some little while, there was silence. “Tell me, Freddy,” said Lady Pendleton at last, “why is it you hate Blandford so much? Is it because of Theonia Ulridge?”
Contrary Cousins Page 19