It was fortunate for Miss Charing, who, from the moment of entering the Legerwood town-house, had been stricken by feelings of remorse, that her hostess was so much preoccupied with the thought of her ailing children that as soon as she had installed her young guest in a comfortable bedchamber, and had rapidly explained to her the unhappy state of affairs, she felt herself impelled to go up to the nursery-floor, to ascertain that no relapse had been suffered by any of the invalids, and that Nurse had not fallen asleep in her chair—a hideous dread which was as persistent as it was unjust. Miss Charing, left alone to the unaccustomed luxury of a fire in her bedchamber, and to the terrifying knowledge that she had but to pull the bell-rope to bring a handmaiden to her assistance, reviewed her situation with feelings of guilt. It had not previously occurred to her that the plot she had hatched might involve others besides the hapless Freddy. His parents, although known to her, had seemed to be but vague figures in the background, whose existence had no bearing upon her schemes. The entrance of Lord Legerwood into the Blue Saloon had banished such false notions; she had been within a hair’s breadth of abandoning her whole project. She was restrained partly by an agonizing reluctance to confess so foolish an exploit to such an awe-inspiring personage; and partly by an even more agonizing fear that to do so would mean her instant return to Arnside. By the time Lady Legerwood had joined the party, she had contrived in some measure to soothe her conscience with the reflection that since she had no intention of marrying Freddy no lasting harm would be done by the imposture. But for all that, she looked forward with dismay to the questions Lady Legerwood must inevitably ask, and could only be thankful that maternal solicitude obliged her ladyship to postpone the dangerous tête-à-tête.
Having assured herself that Edmund, though sadly feverish, seemed inclined to sleep, Lady Legerwood descended the stairs again to her dressing-room. Out of consideration for Miss Charing, whose wardrobe she knew to be scanty, she had declared that she would herself sit down to dinner in her morning-dress, but she would have thought it a very odd thing not to have made some alteration in her appearance. Not even her desire to seek counsel of her lord could be allowed to take precedence over the more pressing need to change her cap, and to repair possible damages to her complexion. She sent for her maid, discovered that her hair must be dressed again, and had just resigned herself to the impossibility of seeking his lordship out before the dinner-bell rang, when he most providentially walked into the room.
She greeted him with relief. “Oh, my love, I have been wanting to speak to you! Yes, the rose-point cap, Clara, and you need not wait! Stay, give me the orange-blossom scarf with the broad French border! No, perhaps that is a little too—The paisley shawl will do very well! You need not wait.”
“Charming!” remarked his lordship, picking up the lace cap, and looking at it through his eyeglass.
“Yes, is it not? I knew you would be pleased! Not that I care a fig for such fripperies at such a moment! How can you be so provoking, Legerwood? What, I ask you, is to be done? I was never more taken-aback in my life, and what must you do but stand there smiling as though you liked it!”
He laughed, and set the cap down. “Well, what would you have had me do? I could scarcely forbid the banns: Freddy is of age.”
“As though that could signify! Not that I wished you to go to such lengths as that!”
“I wonder if he did?” said his lordship thoughtfully.
Her full blue eyes stared at him. “What can you possibly mean? Freddy wish it?” A dreadful suspicion smote her. “Legerwood! It cannot be that she has entrapped Freddy into this engagement?”
“Oh, no, most unlikely, I imagine!” he responded coolly. “Quite an innocent!—refreshingly so, I thought.”
“Of course she is! Reared in such a way! But one is forced to consider whether she has not induced poor Freddy to offer for her only to escape from Arnside. And I am very, very sorry for her, and I am sure I know nothing against her, except that her mother was a Frenchwoman, which I cannot like, but it is not the match I hoped for! I hope I may not be an odious schemer—and if I were, I should be delighted to know that my dear son was to marry a fortune, which, I assure you, I am not, for of all things I detest anything mercenary, particularly when it is not in the least necessary that he should do so! I should be very glad to think that my uncle meant to leave legacies to the younger boys, but as for Freddy, he is abundantly provided for, and I did hope to see him married to someone of consequence, and not to a little countrified girl nobody ever heard of!”
“Do not despair!” recommended his lordship. “I will own myself astonished if anything comes of this engagement. My dear Emma, you are not such a goose-cap that you can imagine either of them to be in love with the other!”
Lady Legerwood was tieing the strings of her cap, but she let her hands fall, and turned in her chair to confront him. “But if she has not entrapped him, and they are not in love, in heaven’s name why have they become engaged?”
“That I don’t yet know,” he answered. “I am not sufficiently well-acquainted with Kitty even to hazard a guess. I suspect the existence of a plot—”
“Not of Freddy’s making!” interpolated Lady Legerwood, ruffling up in defence of her young.
“I am far too well-acquainted with Freddy to make it necessary for you to tell me that, my love. Certainly not of his making. For some reason, as yet hidden from us, Kitty wishes it to be thought that she is betrothed to Freddy. An interesting feature of the engagement—or so it seems to me—is that for reasons equally mysterious no immediate announcement is to be made.”
“No announcement?” she cried. “But why not?”
“Measles,” he said imperturbably.
“Nonsense!”
“Of course: it was Freddy’s offering on the altar of parental curiosity. Kitty preferred to lay the blame at the door of your deplorable uncle’s eccentricity.”
“That might well be true,” she said, considering deeply. “When my uncle made this disgraceful plan you may depend upon it he meant Jack to benefit! I declare it serves him right to be so set-down! Perhaps he hopes it will all come to nothing. He could not refuse his consent to the engagement, of course, because he will never go back on his word. It is one of the things one so particularly dislikes in him! What should we do?”
“Do? Why, nothing! Except, perhaps, enjoy a diverting episode.”
“For my part, I do not find it diverting!” she said tartly. “I think you should demand to know the whole!”
“Oh, do you? And for my part I think I should be foolish beyond permission to do anything of the kind. Freddy’s efforts to concoct suitable lies for my delectation might, I daresay, be amusing, but I think I won’t put him to so much mental fatigue.”
“Oh, dear, I suppose he would lie to you! How very dreadful it is! And he expects me to dress Kitty, and to take her to parties with me—”
“No, you are mistaken. I collect that he has abandoned that scheme.”
“Is she to return to Arnside?” asked her ladyship hopefully.
“Oh, no, I don’t think so! Freddy is going to hatch another scheme.”
“Legerwood, you know very well he will do no such thing! We shall be obliged to do something!”
“Nonsense, my love! Freddy assures me he is bound to think of something,” said his lordship, at his most urbane.
But no one was more surprised than he when his heir, having sat throughout the second course at dinner wrapped in profound thought, announced suddenly: “Knew I should hit on something! Well, I have!”
Lady Legerwood, whose conversation during dinner had meandered between the sufferings of her younger children, and the predicament in which her married daughter found herself, looked doubtfully at him. “Hit on what, dear Freddy?”
“Meg,” replied Freddy succinctly. “Going to visit her.”
“Are you, my love? But—Oh, now you put me in mind of it I recall that she is going to Almack’s tonight, with Emily Cowper!”
“Find her there,” said Freddy.
“Well, of course, dear—But you are not dressed for Almack’s!”
“Go back to my lodgings and change. Plenty of time!” said Freddy. “Must see Meg!”
“This brotherly devotion is most affecting,” remarked Lord Legerwood. “May we know why it has so suddenly attacked you?”
“It ain’t anything of the sort, sir!” said Freddy, justly indignant. “Told you I’d hit on something! Came to me with the cheesecakes!”
“What a tribute to the cook!” said his father.
He looked at Freddy with an expression of patient resignation; but Miss Charing, who had been vainly trying, ever since the news of the epidemic raging in the house had been broken to her, to think of an alternative to returning to Arnside on the morrow, said anxiously: “Is it about me, Freddy?”
“Of course it is. Famous good notion! Meg don’t want to stay with old Lady Buckhaven, don’t want Cousin Amelia to keep her company, can’t have Fanny, because she’s got the measles—better have you!”
Lord Legerwood, in the act of raising his claret-glass to his lips, lowered it again, and regarded his son almost with awe. “These unsuspected depths, Frederick—! I have wronged you!”
“Oh, I don’t know that, sir!” Freddy said modestly. “I ain’t clever, like Charlie, but I ain’t such a sapskull as you think!”
“I have always known you could not be, my dear boy.”
“Kitty to stay with Meg!” Lady Legerwood said, considering it dubiously. “I must say—But would it answer? I am sure Lady Buckhaven wishes her to have some older female with her, and I own—”
“No need to tell her Kit’s age, ma’am. Never leaves Gloucestershire, so she ain’t likely to find out. Besides, couldn’t kick up a dust! Affianced wife—can’t stay here, because of the measles, stays with m’sister instead. Quite the thing!”
“Oh, Freddy!” exclaimed Miss Charing, eyes and cheeks glowing, “it is a splendid scheme! Only, will your sister like it?”
“Like anything that kept her away from old Lady Buckhaven,” said Freddy. Upon reflection, he added: “Except Cousin Amelia. Well—stands to reason!”
So shortly after ten o’clock, just as Miss Charing was climbing into bed after a quiet evening spent in poring over the fashion-plates in various periodicals, Mr. Standen, beautiful to behold in knee-breeches and striped stockings, a blue coat with very long tails, a white waistcoat, and a neckcloth which caused an acquaintance almost to swoon with envy, sauntered into the vestibule at Almack’s Assembly Rooms. He handed his hat and his coat to an attendant lackey, gave a couple of twitches to his wrist-bands and favoured the great Mr. Willis with a nod.
Mr. Willis, according him the bow due to a Pink of the Ton, would not have dreamed of asking to see his voucher. Quite surprising persons might find themselves excluded from Almack’s, but not the most capricious of its patronesses would have entertained for a moment the thought of excluding Mr. Standen. He was neither witty nor handsome; his disposition was retiring; and although he might be seen at any social gathering, he never (except by the excellence of his tailoring) drew attention to himself. Not for Mr. Standen, the tricks and eccentricities of gentlemen seeking notoriety! He was quite a pretty whip, but no one had ever seen him take a fly off the leader’s ear, or heard of his breaking a record in a racing-curricle; he rode well to hounds, without earning the title of neck-or-nothing; and while he sometimes practised single-stick in Jackson’s Boxing Saloon, or tossed oft a third of daffy in Cribb’s Parlour, he was no Corinthian. Indeed, so far from aspiring to pop in a hit over Jackson’s guard, or to stand up for any number of rounds with some Pet of the Fancy, he would have disliked either experience very much indeed. Nor could anyone have thought him an ideal cavaliere-servente, for he was too inarticulate to pay charming compliments, and had never been known to indulge in the mildest flirtation. But a numerous circle of male acquaintances held him in considerable affection, and with the ladies he was a prime favourite. The most sought-after beauty was pleased to stand up with so graceful a dancer; any lady desirous of redecorating her drawing-room was anxious for his advice; no hostess considered her invitation-list complete without his name. His presence did not, of course, confer on a party the distinction that Mr. Brummell’s did, but he was a much more agreeable guest, never arriving long after he had been despaired of and then departing within twenty minutes, and never startling the old-fashioned by uttering calculated impertinences. He could be depended upon, too. He would not stand against the wall, refusing to dance; and no hostess, presenting him to the plainest damsel in the room, had the smallest fear that he would excuse himself, or abandon his partner at the earliest opportunity. He was an excellent escort for any lady deprived at the last moment of her lord’s attendance, for his appearance could not but add to her consequence, and he was always nice to a fault in every attention to her comfort.
Nor was the most jealous husband suspicious of him. “Oh, Freddy Standen!” said these green-eyed gentlemen. “In that case, ma’am, very well!”
So Mr. Willis, who did not condescend to chat with every visitor to the club, welcomed Mr. Standen affably, and frowned at the footman who was trying to present him with a quadrille-card. Whoever else might need instruction in the figures of the quadrille Mr. Standen most certainly did not.
“Seen Lady Buckhaven tonight, Willis?” enquired Freddy, bestowing a final touch to his neckcloth.
“Yes, indeed, sir. Her ladyship came in with my Lady Cowper half-an-hour ago. Mr. Westruther was one of her ladyship’s party.”
“Oh, he’s here, is he?” said Freddy. “Much of a squeeze?”
“No, sir, we are a little thin of company, the season not having begun,” replied Mr. Willis regretfully. “But it wants forty minutes till eleven, and no doubt we may expect to see the rooms fill up tolerably well.”
After this exchange, Freddy passed into the ballroom, and paused on the threshold, looking about him for his sister.
“Why, there is Freddy Standen!” exclaimed a bedizened matron. “I did not know he was in town again. Dear creature!”
She waggled a hand in a tight kid glove, but failed to attract his attention, this being claimed at that moment by a voice at his elbow. “Hallo, my Tulip! Didn’t you ruralize after all?”
The voice was full of lazy amusement, and it made Freddy turn quickly. It belonged to a tall man whose air and bearing proclaimed the Corinthian. Coat, neckcloth, fobs, seals, and quizzing-glass, all belonged to the Dandy; but the shoulders setting off the coat so admirably, and the powerful thighs, hidden by satin knee-breeches, betrayed the Blood, the out-and-outer not to be beaten on any sporting suit. The face above the starched shirt-points was a handsome one, with a mouth as mocking as its owner’s voice, and a pair of intensely blue eyes which laughed into Freddy’s. The sight of them might have caused Miss Charing’s heart to flutter, but they awoke in Mr. Standen quite different emotions. He opened his mouth to give utterance to a few of the sentiments which had been festering in his bosom for two days, and recollected with a sense of bitter frustration that he was pledged to utter none of them. He shut his mouth again, swallowed, and said merely: “Oh, hallo! You here, coz?”
“Yes, Freddy, yes: I am here, not my wraith! But what are you doing here? I thought to have heard of you at Arnside!”
“Got back today,” said Freddy.
Mr. Westruther’s eyes quizzed him maddeningly. “What a short stay, coz! Didn’t they make you welcome?”
Freddy had always rather admired and looked up to his splendid cousin, but he was not going to put up with this sort of thing. He replied, after only a moment’s rapid consideration: “Oh, toll-loll, but it’s a devilish uncomfortable house, and the old gentleman don’t like me to take my man there. Besides, no need to stay longer!”
“No?” said Mr. Westruther, amusement quivering in his voice.
It was seldom that Mr. Standen, a peace-loving young gentleman, was conscious of a wish to come to blows with his fellow-men, but a wistful desire to land his cousin a facer did for an instant flicker in his mind. Several circumstances rendered the gratification of this impulse ineligible, chief amongst them being the hallowed precincts in which they both stood, and the melancholy certainty that such violence could only lead to his own discomfiture. So instead of yielding to brutish instincts, he fell back upon finesse. Opening his snuff-box, he offered it to Jack, saying meditatively: “Queer start! Thought you were bamming me, and dashed nearly didn’t go. Daresay you didn’t know it, but the old gentleman’s going to leave his fortune to Kit, provided she marries one of us.”
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!”
“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.