Mr. Westruther helped himself to a pinch from the elegant gold box. “Some hint of this, I must own, coz, had reached my ears,” he said gravely.
“Surprised you didn’t go to Arnside, then,” said Freddy.
Mr. Westruther raised his brows. “But what made you think me a gazetted fortune-hunter, Freddy?”
“Oh, I don’t know about that!” said Freddy vaguely. “Daresay people took it for granted you and Kit would make a match of it. Thought myself the old gentleman meant to leave the blunt to you. Well, you did too, didn’t you? Been living on the expectancy for years!”
Mr. Westruther said appreciatively: “Well done, Freddy! A hit! I didn’t go to Arnside because I have the oddest dislike of having my hand forced. Our revered great-uncle’s whims are not unamusing, but this one goes beyond the line of what may be tolerated. When I go into wedded shackles it will be in my own time, and in my own fashion.”
“Good notion—if the thing comes off right,” agreed Freddy. “Trouble is, can’t be sure it will!”
His cousin laughed. “I’ll take my chance of that!”
Freddy was well aware of Mr. Westruther’s many conquests. While he was far from understanding why nine females out of ten were so foolish as to fall in love with one who, if not a downright rake, was certainly the most accomplished flirt in town, this was not a question which had previously exercised his mind. Tonight, for the first time, he was nettled by Jack’s assurance; and instead of thinking that it was rather cork-brained of Kitty to hoax Jack, along with all the rest, he suddenly realized that had he been free to tell the truth he would not have done it. Time Jack had a set-down! A certain suspicion beginning to take shape in his mind, he said: “Wish you good fortune! Glad I met you tonight: wanted to tell you! Devilish grateful to you, coz! Never thought there was any chance for me in that quarter: shouldn’t have gone to Arnside if you hadn’t given me a nudge!”
If he had hoped to have confounded his cousin, he was disappointed. There was certainly an arrested look in Mr. Westruther’s face, but he only cocked an eyebrow, and said: “Can it be that I am to wish you happy?”
“That’s it,” replied Freddy. “Mind, we ain’t puffing it off yet, because the old gentleman don’t like it above half, but it’s known in the family.”
He had the satisfaction of seeing Mr. Westruther’s brows snap together, and the laugh quite fade from his eyes; but it was only for a second. The frown vanished as swiftly as it had appeared; Mr. Westruther grinned at him, and said: “No, Freddy, no! Doing it too brown!”
“Ain’t doing it brown at all,” said Freddy stolidly. “Dolph, Hugh, and I all offered for Kit. Accepted me. Well, I knew she would!”
“What?”
“Dash it, Jack!” said Freddy, stung. “Any girl would rather marry me than Dolph or Hugh! No use saying Dolph’s an Earl: he’s run off his legs, besides being dicked in the nob! And as for Hugh—lord!”
“Just so,” concurred his cousin. “But, Freddy—but—! I still say that you are doing it too brown! I will allow that Kitty might prefer you to Dolph or Hugh, but I’m not such a green ’un that I will swallow this hum that you—you, sweet coz!—offered your hand and heart to Kitty Charing! It conjures up an enchanting picture, but no, Freddy, no!”
Freddy toyed with the idea of presenting Mr. Westruther with another picture, that of a long-standing but secret attachment, sketched by Miss Charing’s reckless hand. Something told him that it would not be accepted; and he said instead: “Thought you’d be surprised. Fact is, been thinking for some time I ought to be married. Eldest son, you know: duty!”
“And your father so stricken in years besides!” said Mr. Westruther helpfully.
“No,” said Freddy. “He ain’t stricken in years, but they’ve got measles in the house. No saying what might happen.”
This flight into the realms of fancy was too much for Mr. Westruther. “Enough!” he said. “This bubble was pricked before it was fully blown, coz. I hope you mean to regale me with the true story of what happened at Arnside. Did Dolph and Hugh indeed offer for Kitty?”
“Yes, they did, but anyone could have told ’em it wouldn’t fadge. Couldn’t expect Kit to like being asked only for Uncle Matthew’s fortune. Knew I didn’t want his blunt. Knew I was dashed fond of her, too. So I popped the question, and there we were. Got a notion we shall suit very well.”
There was now a slight crease between Mr. Westruther’s brows, but he said, still in an amused tone: “Do forgive me!—But how came you, in these circumstances, to tear yourself away from your—er—betrothed so soon? And you always polite to a point!”
“Didn’t tear myself away from her,” replied Freddy. “Brought her up to town with me. Wanted to present her to m’mother and father. She’s in Mount Street.”
He watched his cousin to see how this piece of corroborative information was being received, and was a little puzzled. There was a gleam in Jack’s eyes, and the hint of a smile playing about the corners of his mouth. “I see,” he said. He patted Freddy on the shoulder. “I felicitate you, coz: I am quite sure you will suit admirably! Of course I shall call in Mount Street to pay my respects to the future Mrs. Standen, but in the meantime do, pray, assure her of my best wishes for her happiness!”
“Much obliged. Very likely she’ll visit Meg, though.”
“Then I shall call in Berkeley Square. What a charming surprise for Meg! Here she comes!” He paused, watching Lady Buckhaven, who had been taking part in the country-dance which had just ended, trip across the floor towards them. “Dearest cousin, here is Freddy with such delightful news for you! I shall leave him to tell it to you, but I give you warning that when they strike up for the waltz you are mine, and I will by no means submit to being supplanted by him!”
Lady Buckhaven, a very pretty blonde, with her mama’s large, rather full eyes, and a great deal of vivacity, cried out at this. “How can you, Jack? As though I would do anything so rustic as to stand up with my own brother! Freddy, where have you been this age? What have you to tell me?”
His eyes were on his cousin’s retreating form; instead of answering, he said, in a disapproving tone: “What’s he mean by calling you his dearest cousin?”
“Why, that I am, to be sure!” she retorted, laughing.
“Well, it ain’t much to boast of,” said Freddy, having passed his family under rapid mental review. “All the same, shouldn’t encourage him!”
“Don’t be so gothic, Freddy! He is the most enchanting flirt, and only think how ravishing it is to set odious creatures like Charlotte Kilvington there gnawing their nails with jealousy! I declare you are as stupid as Lady Buckhaven! Oh, Freddy, the most shocking thing! That antiquated old fidget insists that I cannot remain in London while Buckhaven is away!”
“Yes, I know. Thought of something, too. That’s why I came tonight.”
“Freddy, you have not? Oh, tell me this instant!” she cried, clasping ecstatic hands.
“Yes, but don’t kick up such a dust!” said her censorious brother. “You’ll have everyone gaping at us. Come and sit down! And, mind, now, Meg! you needn’t set up a screech just because I’ve got something to say that’ll surprise you!”
Thus admonished, Lady Buckhaven meekly accompanied him to two vacant chairs, placed between a pair of palms against the wall. Their progress was somewhat impeded by the determination of various acquaintances to greet them, but they arrived at their goal at last, and Lady Buckhaven said, disposing the diaphanous folds of her blue gauze overdress becomingly: “I can’t conceive why you should be so mysterious! If it is all a take-in, I will never forgive you! Oh, Freddy, I must tell you the latest crim. con. story! You will be in whoops! Only fancy!—it is all over town that Lady Louisa Aldstone and young Garsdale—”
“Lord, I knew that before I went to Melton!” interrupted Freddy scornfully. “And you needn’t tell me Johnny Eppleby fathered the last Thresham brat, because I know that too!”
“No!” exclaimed his sister
.
Perceiving that he had over-estimated her new-found knowledge of the world, Freddy said hastily: “All a hum, I daresay! I wish you will stop chattering, and pay attention!”
She turned her blue orbs upon him expectantly, and, with all the air of one wearied with repeating an incredible tale, he disclosed his engagement to her. She was quite as astonished as Lady Legerwood had been, and much more exclamatory; but no sooner had he propounded to her his scheme for her own salvation and Kitty’s entertainment, than she forgot every other consideration in wholehearted approval of a plan which bade fair to afford her with a reasonable excuse for eschewing the rural amenities of Gloucestershire. She retained the haziest memory of Miss Charing, having only once visited Arnside, and that some years previously, but she was sure she would like her excessively; and the intelligence that she would be expected without loss of time to superintend the purchase of a wardrobe she greeted with rapture. “And I am to introduce her into society? Oh, you may depend upon me, my dear brother!”
“Well, I do,” acknowledged Freddy, “but I must say I don’t feel easy! Never knew anyone with such a shocking eye for colour as you, Meg! That underdress, or petticoat, or whatever you call it, that you have on! No, really, m’dear girl! It won’t do!”
“Freddy!” cried Lady Buckhaven, stunned. “How can you say such a thing? This particular shade of pink is all the crack!”
“Not with this blue stuff it ain’t,” said Freddy positively.
“Jack,” said Lady Buckhaven, tilting her chin, “said he had never seen me look more becoming!”
“Sort of thing he would say,” responded Freddy, unimpressed. “Daresay you think he looks becoming in that devilish waistcoat he has on. Well, he don’t, that’s all! Take my word for it!”
Affronted, she exclaimed: “I never knew you to be so disagreeable! I have a very good mind not to invite Kitty to visit me!”
But this, as Freddy knew well, was an empty threat. Hardly had Lady Legerwood and her young guest left the breakfast-table than Meg swept in upon them, resplendent in a new pelisse of Sardinian blue velvet, and a bonnet with an audaciously curtailed poke and a forest of curled plumes; and displaying with ostentation the sables which had been her lord’s parting gift to her. Between her dread that some germ of measles, wandering adventurously down from the nursery-floor, might fasten upon her daughter, and her disapproval of sables and blue velvet, Lady Legerwood was for several moments too much occupied to present Kitty to the visitor. On the whole, it was her daughter’s lack of taste which most exercised her mind, for her own eye for colour, like Freddy’s, was unerring. “Ermine or chinchilla with blue, Meg!” she said firmly. “Sables never show to advantage! Now, if only you had chosen to wear the Merino cloth pelisse I bought for you—not the earth-coloured one, but the braided one in French green—it would have been unexceptionable!”
By the time this point had been fully argued, news was brought to Lady Legerwood that the doctor had arrived, whereupon, after hurriedly commending Kitty to her daughter’s care, she hurried away, bent on convincing the worthy physician that certain unfavourable symptoms, which had manifested themselves during the night, made it advisable for him to call in Sir Henry Halford to prescribe for Edmund. As the family doctor, a rising man, was at daggers drawn with the eel-backed baronet, it did not seem probable that she would be seen again for some appreciable time.
Meg, as good-natured as her mother and brother, would have been amiable to anyone for whom her kindness had been solicited. Had she found herself confronted by a dazzling blonde she would not have spurned Kitty; but it could not be denied that the discovery that Miss Charing was a brunette immediately confirmed her in her conviction that she would like her prodigiously. Both were little women, but Kitty was built on sturdier lines than Meg, who was a wispy creature. One of her admirers had once labelled her ethereal, which so much delighted her that she ever after took great pains to live up to it, dressing her feathery curls a la Meduse, wearing gowns of the airiest materials, and cultivating a fluttering restlessness worthy almost of that still more ethereal beauty, Lady Caroline Lamb. As a debutante she had not been remarkable, for there were many prettier damsels, and her mother’s sense of propriety allowed her natural liveliness little scope. But she had made an excellent marriage, and had speedily discovered that the wedded state exactly suited her. Matched with an affluent peer, a good many years her senior, she found that the world of ton had far more to offer a dashing young matron than ever she had suspected when she was demure Miss Standen. Her husband regarded her with doating fondness; she had as much pin-money as she could spend; and she was able to gather round her a court of gentlemen who were far too wary to pay marked attentions to unmarried maidens. She had a considerable affection for her lord, and was very disconsolate to be obliged to part from him for perhaps as much as a year, even crying herself to sleep for three nights in succession; but since her disposition was volatile, she soon recovered from this state of despondency, and had now nothing to worry her but the dread of being obliged to live with her mother-in-law, and the certainty that her pregnancy would compel her to give up going to balls right in the middle of the London Season.
Most of this she poured into Kitty’s ears, but as her conversation was even more inconsequent than Lady Legerwood’s, Kitty was quite bewildered, and had great difficulty in unravelling the thread of her discourse. However, Freddy arrived in Mount Street presently, and had no hesitation in putting an end to his sister’s chatter by demanding to know if all had been settled between her and Miss Charing. When he learned that the matter had not yet been touched on, he was quite indignant, for he had hoped that no further strain need be placed upon his powers of contrivance. He now perceived that since he was cursed with a rattle for a sister he would be obliged to assume control of the affair. He spoke severely to both ladies, which drew a giggle from each, and provoked Meg into rallying him on his unlover-like behaviour. Blushing deeply, he then bestowed a chaste salute on Kitty’s cheek, saying apologetically: “Forgot!”
Fortunately for the deception, Meg was pondering deeply, and took no note of this somewhat peculiar remark. She said suddenly: “No one must be allowed to see you until you are gowned, Kitty!”
Miss Charing, who had been miserably conscious of her outmoded raiment from the moment of setting eyes on Lady Legerwood’s elegance, heartily assented to this.
“We will instantly go to Fanchon’s!” announced Meg. “Your trunks must be sent round to Berkeley Square— Mama’s people will attend to that! Only pop on your bonnet, and we will be off directly! Freddy may come with us, if he chooses.”
This offer being declined, Mr. Standen providentially recollecting that he had an engagement at the other end of the town, the ladies fell into enthusiastic discussion of current fashions, Miss Charing showing Lady Buckhaven the picture of a ravishing Chinese robe of lilac silk which she had discovered in one of the numbers of La Belle Assemblée, and Lady Buckhaven arguing that a light puce would be more becoming to her new friend.
Freddy then took his leave; and as soon as the doctor left the house, Kitty sought out her hostess, to thank her for her hospitality, and to bid her farewell. Lady Legerwood embraced her kindly, bestowed upon her a handsome shawl of Norwich silk, which she had never even worn but which was going to cost her husband not a penny less than sixty pounds; and promised, as soon as she had the leisure, to find a more worthy betrothal-gift for her. Kitty was thrown into dreadful confusion by this, and could only be thankful that there seemed at present to be little fear that Lady Legerwood would have any leisure.
She was borne off by Meg in a stylish barouche, and, having miscalled it a landaulet, learned her first lesson. A barouche, Meg told her, was of the first stare of fashion; but a landaulet, for inscrutable reasons, was a dowdy vehicle, only fit for old ladies to ride in. “I will remember,” she said. “I shall have a great deal to learn, because I have never been to London in my life. But I mean to apply myself!”
&
nbsp; “Oh, you will be on the town in less than no time!” said Meg, adding naively: “Particularly if you are to stay with me, because I’m all the crack!”
“I can see that you are,” said Kitty, in all sincerity.
Chapter VIII
It was as well for Mr. Standen that Miss Charing had been bred in the habits of the strictest economy, for his sister, entering wholeheartedly into his amiable plot to provide Kitty with a much more expensive wardrobe than had been contemplated by Mr. Penicuik, would have had no scruple in recommending the purchase of at least half-a-dozen of the ravishing gowns displayed by Mme Fanchon. It had not occurred to her that Miss Charing might demand to be told the prices of the dresses she looked at, for it had already been agreed between them that the dressmakers and the milliners should be instructed to send in their bills to Lady Buckhaven, whom they knew so well; and nothing was more unlikely than that Mme Fanchon would of her own volition mention anything so ungenteel as a price. But from the moment of alighting from the barouche in Bruton Street, and entering the portals of one of London’s most renowned modistes, Kitty was suspicious. Ushered into a showroom carpeted with Aubusson and furnished with gilded, spindle-legged chairs, and a multitude of tall mirrors, she felt unhappily certain that any gown exhibited in such opulent surroundings would be quite above her touch. She tried to whisper as much in Meg’s ear, but Meg only laughed, and said: “Fiddle!” Then the great Mme Fanchon herself appeared, all smiles and curtsies, and, having been informed that she was to have the privilege of supplying her ladyship’s cousin with several dresses, suitable for a young lady of quality about to come-out into the world, at once went into conference with my lady, while Kitty stared with round, envious eyes at a grand ball-dress of lace over white satin, which was displayed upon a stand at one end of the room. She had not fully assimilated its glories” when Meg rejoined her, but Meg, observing the direction of her gaze, said: “Not lace! When you are married you may wear such a dress, but Mama would never allow me to do so when I came out.”
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