Cotillion

Chapter XVIII

Mr. Standen, arriving in Berkeley Square just after noon, allowed Skelton to help him out of his many-caped driving coat, laid his hat and gloves on a side-table, and paused under a large Venetian gilt mirror to adjust his cravat. “Ladies at home, Skelton?” he enquired.

“Her ladyship is partaking of luncheon in the breakfast-parlour, sir. Miss Charing went out of town this morning, and will not be back, I understand, until tomorrow.”

Freddy looked mildly surprised. “Did she, though? What made her do that?”

“I couldn’t say, sir.”

“Queer start!” remarked Freddy. “No need to announce me.”

Skelton bowed, but opened the door of the parlour at the back of the house for him. Freddy wandered into the room, and accorded his sister a brotherly greeting. “Hallo, Meg! What’s this Skelton tells me about Kit? Where has she gone to?”

“Oh, Freddy, is that you?” exclaimed Meg. “How quick you have been! Kitty might just as well have waited for you! Not that I believed a word of that story, for I hope I am not such a dummy! She has gone off to Arnside, but she means to return tomorrow.”

“Old gentleman taken ill, or something?” enquired Freddy, seating himself at the table, and selecting an apple from the dish of fruit in the middle of it.

“No, I don’t think that was it. She had a most peculiar letter from Miss Fishguard yesterday, all about Henry VIII, and she said it was plain to her that something must be amiss at Arnside.”

“All about Henry VIII?” repeated Freddy incredulously. “What’s he doing at Arnside? Well, what I mean is, can’t be doing anything! Fellow’s been dead for centuries. Good thing, if he’s the one I’m thinking of.”

“Well, that is what we couldn’t discover, for the stupid creature wrote so wildly neither of us could read her letter. There was something about a cockatrice, and a girl called Katherine, whom Kitty thinks must be a new servant, and then, a little farther down the page, something about treason. There was no understanding it at all!”

“Plain as a pikestaff!” said Freddy, delicately peeling his apple. “Touched in her upper works. Thought as much, when I was down there.”

“Yes, but that is not all, Freddy. First, Kitty said she should ask you to take her home, to discover what was the matter. And then, that very same morning, she said she would not wait for you, but would ask Dolph to take her instead! I assure you, I tried to dissuade her, but she wouldn’t listen to me, and she has gone with Dolph!”

Mr. Standen, having peeled his apple, now quartered it. “Shouldn’t have done that,” he said, shaking his head. “Much better have waited for me! No use taking Dolph: he’s touched in his upper works too. Won’t know what to do, if that Fish turns out to be violent.” He ate one of the quarters, and added reflectively: “Come to think of it, shouldn’t know what to do myself. Still, might make a push to do something, which he won’t.”

“Upon my word, Freddy, you take it very coolly!” cried Meg. “Here’s Kitty, running off in this mysterious way with Dolph, and you seem not to care a button!”

“Well, I don’t,” replied Freddy. “She won’t come to any harm with Dolph.”

“For anything you know she may have eloped with him! You are the most extraordinary creature!”

“I know dashed well she hasn’t eloped with him, and if you weren’t so bird-witted you’d know it too.”

“Well, I do know it, but you must own that after the way he has been dangling round her it would not be surprising! But, in fact, she took that very odd friend of hers as well—Miss Plymstock.”

Freddy was subjecting the dish of fruit to a close scrutiny, but at these words he let his eyeglass fall, and said; “Did she, though! Then that explains it! At least, don’t quite see why she’s gone to Arnside, but I daresay there’s a very good reason.”

“So you do understand it!” said Meg. “To be sure, Kitty said you would, but I thought she was hoaxing me. Freddy, what is she doing? Not one word would she vouchsafe to me, except that it would be better if I didn’t know, which nearly sent me into hysterics!”

“Daresay she was right,” said Freddy, considering the matter. “Might be the devil of a dust over it—if she’s doing what I think she is, which, mind you, I ain’t sure of.”

“You had better read the letter she wrote to you,” said Meg, suddenly remembering the existence of Kitty’s letter, and producing it from her reticule.

“I should dashed well think I had!” said Freddy indignantly. “If it ain’t just like you, Meg, to sit there prosing on for ever instead of giving it to me at once!”

“I had forgot I had it,” apologized Meg, giving it to him.

He cast her a look of scorn, broke the wafer, and spread open the sheets. His sister sat in growing impatience while he slowly perused the whole, every now and then turning back to consult some phrase on a previous page, Restraining her ardent wish to demand enlightenment, she waited until he had, come to the end before saying: “Well?”

Mr. Stand en, who appeared to be wrestling with some knotty problem, paid not the smallest heed to this interjection, but, to Meg’s intense annoyance, began to read the letter all over again. He then said cryptically: “If you ask me, she’s made a muff of it!”

“Well, I do ask you!” said Meg, pardonably incensed. “Made a muff of what!”

“It don’t signify,” said Freddy, rising to his feet. “Good thing she wrote to me, though. Might have caught cold at this!”

“Freddy!” shrieked Meg. “You don’t mean to leave me without telling me what has happened?”

“Yes, I do,” he replied. “Tell you all about it presently! For one thing, haven’t time just now: got something important to do! For another, Kit don’t want me to.”

“Oh, it is the most infamous thing!” Meg cried.

“No, no, it ain’t as bad as that!” said Freddy earnestly. “Don’t say there won’t be the deuce of a dust kicked up, because there will be. I can stand the huff, but you wouldn’t like it.”

On these tantalizing words, he left the room, bestowing a kindly pat on his sister’s shoulder as he passed her chair. He shrugged himself into his driving-coat again, picked up his curly-brimmed beaver, set it on his head with nicety and precision, took his gloves in his hand, and let himself out of the house.

It was his intention to walk to the nearest thoroughfare, there to find a hackney-coach; but as he paused on the top step to consult his watch, one of these useful vehicles rounded the corner of the Square, and, in another minute, drew up outside the Buckhaven house. Freddy, restoring his watch to his pocket, descended the steps, vaguely wondering who might have come to visit his sister in a common hack. The answer to this problem then burst upon his vision: Miss Broughty almost tumbled out of the coach, and began to search in her reticule for the recompense needed to satisfy the demands of the Jehu seated on the box. These appeared to be beyond her means, for she embarked on a somewhat agitated argument with her creditor. Freddy was not one of Miss Broughty’s admirers, but an inner voice warned him that his affianced bride would certainly expect him to befriend any protégée of hers, so he stepped forward, removing his hat, and bowing with his peculiar grace. “Beg you will allow me!” he murmured.

“Oh!” gasped Olivia, startled, and dropping her reticule. “Mr. Standen!”

He restored her property to her. “How do you do? Very happy to be of assistance! Shocking robbers, these jarveys!”

The gentleman on the box began indignantly to recite the lawful charges for the hire of hackney vehicles, but when he discovered that the swell in the sixteen-caped coat had not the slightest intention of disputing these with him, changed his tone, and said that if he could have his way he would never drive any but a member of the Quality. He then pocketed the handsome sum handed up to him, winked expressively, and drove off, with a twirl of his whip.

“Oh, Mr. Standen!” faltered Olivia. “You are so very obliging! I do not know what to say! I had no notion—! My one thought was to reach dear Miss Charing, and I just hailed the first coach I saw, and jumped into it!”

The inner voice which seldom added anything to Mr. Standen’s comfort now warned him that trouble loomed in front of him. He said: “You want to see Miss Charing?”

“Oh, yes, for I am in the greatest distress, and she said that she would help me!”

“Very sorry to be obliged to disappoint you: gone out of town!” said Freddy apologetically.

This time, Miss Broughty dropped her muff as well as her reticule upon the flagway. “Gone out of town!” she repeated, looking perfectly distraught, “Oh, heavens, what shall I do?”

Freddy once more retrieved her belongings. Taking Miss Broughty’s exclamation in its most literal sense, he replied with great civility: “Very difficult for me to say. Happy to do anything in my power, but not in possession of the facts. No use asking for Miss Charing today: call again tomorrow!”

“Too late!” uttered Miss Broughty, in tragic accents. “I am lost, for there is no one I may turn to, except Mr. Westruther, and I cannot, I cannot!”

Mr. Standen now knew that his inner voice had not deceived him. His instinct was to extricate himself with what dexterity he could summon to his aid from a situation which bade fair to plunge him into the sort of embarrassment his fastidious soul loathed; but an innate chivalry bade him stand his ground. He said, with a deprecatory cough: “Very understandable! Shouldn’t turn to him, if I was you. Better tell me! Do my best to assist you: betrothed to Miss Charing, you know!”

She stared wildly up into his face. “Oh, yes, but— How could I? You are not to be teased with my affairs, I am sure! Besides—oh, I could not!”

“Not at all!” he said. “Pleasure! Collect it concerns Miss Charing’s cousin: very delicate matter, but no need to conceal anything from me: know all about it!”

“You do?” she cried. “But it does not concern him! At least—Oh, what shall I do?”

Mr. Standen, deftly catching her muff, which she released as she began to wring her hands, restored it to her, and said very sensibly: “Take a turn about the Square with me. Can’t stand here: have all the fools in town gaping at us!”

Miss Broughty, a biddable girl, weakly accepted the support of his proffered arm, and allowed herself to be led along the flagway. She was at first unable to do more than utter disjointed and inexplicable ejaculations, but soothed by Mr. Standen’s unintelligible but consolatory murmurs she was very soon pouring her troubles into his ear.

It might have been supposed that Freddy, whose intellect was not of the first order, would have found it impossible to grasp the gist of an extremely tangled and discursive story, but once more the possession of three volatile and excitable sisters stood him in good stead. Recognizing at a glance, and as swiftly discarding, all the irrelevant details with which Miss Broughty obscured her tale, he very soon mastered the essential fact, which was that Sir Henry Gosford had requested her Mama’s permission to solicit her hand in marriage, and that if she refused to bestow this upon him, her Mama would kill her.

Well aware that to bring the voice of sober reason to bear upon the exaggerations of agitated females was both fruitless and perilous, Freddy wisely let this pass, and listened in sympathetic silence to an enumeration of the various hideous fates Miss Broughty considered preferable to marriage with Sir Henry. If he did not feel that she was made of the stuff that could face with fortitude the prospect of being crucified, or boiled in oil, he did realize that she was in very great distress, and making sincere efforts to escape a somewhat sordid destiny. At the first opportunity, and emboldened by her many references to her Camille, he asked her if the Chevalier knew of this disaster. Two large tears trembled on the ends of her lashes, and she replied: “Oh, no, no, for what would be the use? Mama will never, never consent to my marrying him, and it would cast him into such agony!”

It was at this point that his brilliant stroke of policy came into Freddy’s head. He was so much dazzled by it that he was obliged to hush Miss Broughty, who was distracting him with her monologue. “Can’t think, if you keep talking,” he explained. “Very important I should think: got a notion!”

She was obediently silent, looking up every now and then into his face, but not venturing to address him again. They had come within sight of Lady Buckhaven’s house once more before he emerged from his abstraction, and said abruptly: “Going to take you to m’sister. Your Mama likely to come seeking you there?”

She trembled. “Oh, if she were to guess—! But she will not miss me directly, for she is in town herself, and she does not know I ran away from my uncle’s house as soon as she went out. But—”

“It don’t signify,” said Freddy. “Tell m’sister’s butler to say you ain’t there. Very reliable fellow, Skelton.”

“But how can I intrude upon Lady Buckhaven?” protested Olivia. “She cannot help me, and indeed I would not ask it of her!”

“No, but must leave you somewhere while I settle the thing,” explained Freddy.

She clasped both hands round his arm, crying breathlessly: “Settle it! Oh, sir, can you?”

“Told you I’d got a notion,” he reminded her. “Mind, not sure the thing will come off right, but no harm in trying!”

There were those who might have doubted Mr. Standen’s ability to bring anything off right, but Miss Broughty was not of their number. In so elegant a gentleman, and one, besides, who was engaged to her dear Miss Charing, she could not but repose the utmost confidence. She attempted no further remonstrance, but accompanied him meekly up the steps of Lady Buckhaven’s house.

Skelton, looking slightly surprised, admitted them into the house, and volunteered the information that her ladyship had just ordered her carriage.

“Never mind that!” said Freddy, handing over his hat and gloves. “Where is she?”

“I fancy, sir, that her ladyship is in her dressing-room. I will inform her that you have returned.”

“Needn’t do that. Take Miss Broughty into the Saloon! And mind this, Skelton!—if anyone comes here asking for her, she ain’t here, and you haven’t seen her!”

In the course of a long and successful career, Skelton had gathered much experience of eccentric young gentlemen. He had not previously included Mr. Standen in this fraternity, and he was both grieved and shocked to find that his judgment had been so much at fault. But he concealed his feelings, and led the shrinking Miss Broughty to the Saloon, what time Mr. Standen trod lightly upstairs to his sister’s dressing-room.

“Good gracious, Freddy!” exclaimed Meg, when she saw him. “What now, pray?” A gleam of hope shone in her eyes. She cast aside the hat she was just about to set on her head, and said eagerly: “Oh, do you mean to tell me the secret after all?”

“Not that one,” responded Freddy. “Tell you another instead!” He perceived that she was looking affronted, and added: “Not bamming you! Wish I was! Dashed awkward business! Fact is, need your help.”

A little mollified, but still suspicious, she looked an enquiry.

“Got the Broughty girl downstairs,” said Freddy. “Put her in the Saloon.”

“Then I wish you will take her away again! I don’t want her!” said Meg, with asperity.

“That’s just it: I don’t want her either. Been thinking for some time I should have to get rid of her. Think I can do it! You knew that cousin of Kit’s was trying to fix his interest with her, didn’t you?”

“Oh, I know that Kitty was attempting to make up a match between them, but I think it most unsuitable!”

“No, it ain’t: best match she could make, if you ask me!”

“She! And what of the Chevalier, pray?”

“Now, listen, Meg! Going to tell you something I don’t want you to repeat. Got to trust you.”

“As though you did not know I would never breathe a word to a soul of anything you told me in confidence!”

“Well, see you don’t, because it ain’t a story I want to find flying round the town!” said Freddy, unimpressed. “You remember what we were saying about the Chevalier before Jack brought him here?”

“No,” said Meg, mystified.

“Yes, you do! Told Kit he’d very likely turn out to be a dirty dish.”

“Oh, that! Yes, why?”

“Exactly what he has turned out to be,” said Freddy. “Not a Chevalier at all: deuced loose fish, in fact! Just what I thought: a dashed ivory-turner!”

“Freddy, no!” cried Meg, turning quite pale. “Oh, poor Kitty! Does she know?”

“Stupid fellow told her. Thing is, Meg, must get rid of him too!”

“Good heavens, yes! Only think of the scandal, if anyone should discover the truth!”

“Exactly so! Dashed awkward situation. Queered me how to settle it, I can tell you. Hit on a notion just now. Get rid of them both!”

Meg stared at him. “Both? Do you mean Miss Broughty as well?”

“That’s it. Poor girl’s in the devil of a pucker! Gosford offering for her, and she won’t have him. Ran off to beg Kit to help her. Met her in the Square, and she told me all about it. Very fortunate circumstance, because it gave me a notion. Pack ’em both off to France!”

“You must be mad!”

“No, I ain’t. In love with one another. At least, the girl is: keeps talking on about her Camille till you can’t but feel queasy! Kit says d’Evron is too. Shouldn’t be surprised: seems to be more of a gudgeon than you’d think. Trouble is, knows his case is hopeless.”

“I should think so, Indeed! If ever I saw an odious, scheming woman—”

“Got to elope with her. Going to tell him so,” said Freddy.

“Freddy!” gasped his scandalized sister.

“No need to screech,” said Freddy. “Dashed good notion!”

“It is quite shocking! And when I think that you are for ever telling me I am bird-witted, I declare I could slap you! She had very much better marry Sir Henry!”

“No, she hadn’t,” contradicted Freddy bluntly. “For one thing, not the sort of fellow anyone would do better to marry. For another, getting to be a trifle crack-brained—well, stands to reason he wouldn’t offer to marry this little article of virtue if he weren’t! If she marries him, sure as check she’ll be kicking up larks all over town within the twelvemonth, because it ain’t to be expected she’ll know how to do the thing neatly.”

“Well, it is no concern of yours if she does!” argued Meg.

“Dashed well is my concern!” said Freddy. “Nice thing if a friend of Kit’s was to be one of the on-dits of town, and very likely drawing Kit into her scrapes! If you think Kit wouldn’t be for ever trying to pull her out of ’em, you don’t know Kit!”

Impressed by this eminently practical point of view, Meg said doubtfully: “Yes, but—an elopement! I cannot like it!”

“I should hope you would not,” said Freddy, with a touch of austerity. “Dash it, you’re a Standen! Point is, the Broughty girl ain’t! Mind, I don’t know yet how Kit’s cousin will take it, so I haven’t said anything to the girl. If he ain’t willing, I shall be at a stand. Going to visit him. Leave Miss Broughty here.”

“Freddy, I won’t be a party to it! Only fancy how displeased Buckhaven would be, if it came to his ears! Besides, what a fix I should be in if Mrs. Broughty knew that I had helped her daughter to do anything so improper!”

“Won’t know it: told Skelton to say she wasn’t here, if anyone came asking for her,” replied Freddy. “Can’t stay longer: devil of a lot to do!”

He waited for no further expostulation, but left the dressing-room, and ran down the stairs. Pausing only to look into the Saloon, and to tell Olivia, nervously seated on the edge of a chair, that he would be back presently, he again left the house, and set off in the direction of Duke Street.

He was fortunate enough to find the Chevalier at home. The Chevalier, in fact, had risen at a late hour, had partaken of breakfast at noon, and received his unexpected guest in a magnificent dressing-gown, for which he made rueful apologies.

“You find me en deshabille! I have had last night what I think you call a pretty batch of it!”

He set a chair for Freddy as he spoke. He was smiling, but his bright eyes were wary, and there was a suggestion of tautness about him. He would have assisted Freddy to divest himself of his long coat, but Freddy shook his head, saying: “Don’t mean to make a long stay: got a great deal to do!”

The Chevalier bowed, and turned away to produce from a cupboard a bottle and two glasses. “You will, however, take a glass of madeira with me?”

“Do that with pleasure,” said Freddy. “Come to see you on a devilish ticklish business, d’Evron. Daresay you know what it is.”

“In effect,” said the Chevalier, after a momentary silence, “my cousin has told you certain things?”

“Knew ’em already,” replied Freddy. He added apologetically: “Been on the town for some time, y’know!”

“Quoi?” ejaculated the Chevalier, flushing. “There is, then, something in my ton, my tenue, which betrays me?”

“No, no, nothing like that!” Freddy assured him. “No need to take a pet! Thing is—well, it’s what I was saying to m’father t’other day: can’t be on the town without learning to know a flat from—” He broke off in some slight confusion, as the infelicitous nature of this reminiscence occurred to him.

The Chevalier burst out laughing. “Ah, I can supply the word! I become very much au fait with your idioms. You would say ‘from a leg,’ I think!”

“Well, I would,” owned Freddy. “It ain’t your ton. Dashed if I know what it is! Just thought you was a trifle smoky.”

“It is to be hoped that others are not so—how shall I say? —intelligent! Or have you come to threaten me with exposure?”

“Must know I haven’t,” replied Freddy. “Cork-brained thing to do! Engaged to your cousin: don’t want her to be uncomfortable; don’t want any scandal either. What’s more, don’t wish you any harm.”

The Chevalier made him a mock bow, and began to pour out the wine. “I thank you! Well, and so I am a leg! I live, in fact, d’invention! I take risks, yes, but not, perhaps so great risks as some have thought. I will tell you, M. Standen, that if you had come to threaten me I would have snapped my fingers in your face, so! As I have snapped them in the face of your so-amiable cousin!”

“Which one?” enquired Freddy. “What I mean is, got a lot of cousins! Quite safe to snap your fingers in my cousin Dolphinton’s face, but if you mean my cousin Jack, which I fancy you do, silly thing to have done! Dangerous fellow to cross.”

“Be content! He will not expose me, for he dare not!”

“Might not do that,” agreed Freddy. “Wouldn’t lay a groat, though, against the chance of his doing you a mischief. Very seldom seen him queered on any suit. However, it ain’t any concern of mine.” He sipped his wine, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Come to think of it, might be able to put you in the way of serving Jack a back-handed turn,” he remarked.

The Chevalier shrugged his shoulders. “A quoi sort de le faire? If I chose to do it, I would remain in England. I do not fear him, believe me! That he knows! It is a little amusing that he should have put himself to such pains to persuade me to return to my own country. It has been my intention to do so, since—several days. That gave me to laugh sous cape! Will he flatter himself I went away because he bade me? No, I think—but it matters nothing! Did you come to visit me to tell me to go, sir? Cela n’en vaut pas la peine!”

“Came to tell you Miss Broughty’s in the devil of a fix,” said Freddy calmly.

The Chevalier had walked over to the window, but he turned swiftly at this. “You would say that Miss Broughty is in trouble?”

“That’s it,” nodded Freddy. “Run away from Hans Crescent. Not the thing, but can’t blame her. Never saw such a set of rum touches in my life as those relations of hers! What’s more,” he added, considering the matter dispassionately, “not a good part of the town. Wouldn’t like to live there myself.”

“For the love of God—!” cried the Chevalier impatiently. “What has happened to her? Where is she?”

“Left her with m’sister,” Freddy replied. “She came to ask Kit to help her.”

“Ah, she has a heart of gold, this Kitty, and she will do so!” the Chevalier exclaimed, his brow lightening a little.

“Daresay she might, but she ain’t there,” said Freddy stolidly.

“Not there! Where then is she?”

“Gone down to my great-uncle’s. Poor girl’s at a standstill: don’t know what to do! Seemed to me I’d best come and tell you about it. Thing is, she can’t stay in Berkeley Square. First place that Broughty woman will think of, when she starts searching for her.”

“But tell me, I beg of you! It is not—mon Dieu, it is not that madame has discovered—? It is not I who am the cause—?”

“Oh, no, nothing of that nature! You know Sir Henry Gosford? Offered for her.”

‘“That ancient!” the Chevalier said contemptuously. “I know well the intentions of Madarne Broughty, but Olivia will laugh at the vieillard!”

“Wasn’t laughing when I saw her. Said her mother would kill her if she didn’t do as she was bid. Shouldn’t think she would, myself, but no use telling Miss Broughty that: in the deuce of a pucker, y’know! Trembling all over.”

“Ah, la pauvre! it is a dragon de femme, that one, but she cannot force that angel to the altar, after all! She will scold, she will threaten, but she will not harm her own daughter! This Sir Henry will be forgotten—I too must be forgotten!— and one day, I am assured, she will meet another—un brave homme!—and she will be happy. To think of it is to tear the heart from my body, but I must wish it for her sake—I must accustom myself to the thought!”

“Well, it ain’t a particle of use accustoming yourself to it,” said Freddy, unimpressed. “Won’t happen.”

“She will not consent to marry that radoteur!”

“No, very likely not. Seems to me she’ll accept a carte blanche from my cousin Jack,” said Freddy brutally.

“No! no!” ejaculated the Chevalier, turning pale. “You shall not say such a thing!”

“Have said it. Very understandable thing to do. Frightened of her mother: won’t return to her. You go off to France: nothing else she can do! Must know Jack would treat her devilish handsomely: at least, he would while she was living under his protection. Trouble is, these little affairs don’t commonly last long. Mind, I don’t say Jack would turn her off without a shilling, because he wouldn’t. Shabby thing to do, and he ain’t shabby. But—”

“Stop! stop!” said the Chevalier hoarsely. He cast himself into a chair by the table, and buried his face in his hands. “Every word you speak is torture! Ah, why did I cross her path? I have brought misery upon her!”

“Don’t see that at all,” objected Freddy. “Dashed good thing you did cross her path! Able to rescue her.”

The Chevalier’s fingers, writhing amongst his glossy brown locks, were fast ruining what had been an admirable example of the Brutus, made fashionable by Mr. Brummell. Freddy watched this with pained disapproval. It did not seem to him to serve any useful purpose; it was, in fact, a work of quite wanton destruction.

“You do not understand!” groaned the Chevalier. “I would give my life, my all, but I am helpless! I cannot help her, I, of all men! You may say I am au bout de mon Latin!”

“Well, I shouldn’t say anything of the sort, because I ain’t at all easy in the French tongue, and I’m dashed if I know what it means. Daresay m’father would: they used to talk the devil of a lot of French in his day. Italian, too. Went junketing about all over the Continent, y’know. That fellow Bonaparte put a stop to that, which is why I never made the Grand Tour. Not that I’m complaining. Never thought I should have liked it above half, to tell you the truth.”

The Chevalier stared at him rather wildly. “Ah. what are you saying? It is hors de propos! You bring me news which kills me, and talk to me of the Grand Tour! It is entirely English, en effet!”

“Well, what the deuce should it be?” said Freddy reasonably. “Just told you I don’t speak French!”

The Chevalier once more sank his head in his hands, saying with a bitter laugh; “Oh, you are without sensibility, you!”

“I may be without sensibility, but I’m dashed if I’d sit tearing my hair out when a man came to tell me Kit was in trouble!” retorted Freddy. “Much good that would do her!”

The Chevalier raised his head, and flung out his hands. “But can you not understand that I am without power? Never would that woman permit me to marry Olivia! Ah, do you imagine that I do not care, that I do not desire with all my heart to call her my own, to take her to France, far, far from such as her mother—that Gosford—that roué, your cousin?”

“Well, why the devil don’t you do it?” demanded Freddy. “Never saw such a fellow for making speeches!”

The Chevalier’s hands dropped. He sat staring at Freddy, as though thunderstruck. “Do it?” he repeated. “You would say—an enlevement!”

Freddy sighed. “No, I wouldn’t. Keep telling you I don’t speak French.”

“Pardon. A—a flight—a—I do not know the word!”

“Daresay you mean an elopement,” said Freddy helpfully. “That’s it: carry her off to France before her mother finds her.”

The Chevalier’s eyes flashed. “Ah, you believe me to be altogether base!” he exclaimed.

“Well, you’re out there, because I don’t. Seems to me you’re altogether bacon-brained!”

“But—It would be an infamy! I tell you, I have for that angel a respect, an adoration beyond your comprehension! To steal her in that manner—I, a gamester, an adventurer!—is a villainy too great!”

“Shouldn’t call it a villainy myself,” said Freddy. “It ain’t the thing, of course: not saying it is. Mind, if you didn’t mean to marry her, it wouldn’t do at all!”

“If it were possible, I would marry her at this instant!” the Chevalier said impetuously.

“Well, it ain’t possible. Marry her when you get to France.”

The Chevalier began to pace about the room. “I would take her to my mother. She is not such a one as Madame Broughty, rest assured!”

“Very good notion,” approved Freddy.

“My father—ah, if at first he was a little angry with me, would he not relent when his eyes alighted upon my angel?”

“Bound to,” agreed Freddy.

The Chevalier faced him. “Tell me, then, you who are of a family of the most distinguished, the most correct, should I do this thing?”

“Dash it, just what I have been telling you!” said Freddy. “What’s more, there’s no time to be lost.”

A doubt shook the Chevalier. “Can it be that she would trust me? So young, so innocent!”

“Why shouldn’t she? What I mean is, no reason at all, if she’s an innocent. Ought to know that!”

The Chevalier drew a deep breath, and flung open his arms. “La tête me tourne! But one little half-hour past, behold me, plongé dans le désespoir! Then you come to me, comme ange tutelaire, and you transport me to Paradise!”

“Very happy to be of service,” murmured Freddy, rising, and setting down his empty glass.

The Chevalier gave a shaken laugh. “Ah, I am without words! Je m’en suis plus!”

“Are you, though?” said Freddy hopefully. “Good thing: no time to waste in speechifying! Fact is, never one to talk much: not clever, y’know!”

“You—!” uttered the Chevalier, in throbbing accents. “You will permit me at least to thank you!”

Freddy’s eyes started from his head with horror, for it seemed, for one hideous moment, as though the Chevalier had every intention of embracing him. However, the excitable Frenchman contented himself with seizing both his hands, and exclaiming in a voice of profound emotion: “My benefactor!”

“No, no, assure you, nothing of that sort!” said Freddy. “At least—puts me in mind of something! Don’t know how you may be fixed for the ready! Happen to have a large sum about me: thought I might be needing it, but it turned out I didn’t. Beg you won’t hesitate to tell me if it ain’t quite convenient to you to lay down your blunt just at present!”

“Ah, you are the soul of generosity!” the Chevalier said, pressing his hands fervently. “But no! I too have about me a large sum of money!” An imp of mischief leaped into his eyes. “Shall I tell you? Yes, for could I withhold from you any secret? Your cousin did me the so-great honour to invite me to his logement, having, as he told me, an envie to pit his skill at piquet against mine. Eh bien! he has some skill, that one, but I was perhaps a little enraged—pour raison a moi connue!—and I did not choose that he should win. C’est du genre comique, n’est-ce pas?”

“Fuzzed the cards, did you?” said Freddy. “Hope you haven’t knocked him into horse nails! However, no concern of mine. Daresay he’ll make a recover: never known him to be rolled up yet! Thing is, ought to hire a chaise! Won’t want to travel by the Mail. Got a notion it don’t leave the General Post Office till after nightfall. Dashed uncomfortable business, travelling by night! Besides, ought to leave town immediately.”

“Soyez tranquil! I go to hire a post-chaise on the instant! One night we must be in Dover, for the packet, you must know, leaves at a little after eight in the morning. Have no fears! My angel shall be as a queen, and I her slave!”

Since Freddy was grappling with thoughts of his own, this chivalrous utterance drew from him only an abstracted nod. The Chevalier, at last releasing his hands, began to stride about the room, formulating his plans for flight. Freddy interrupted him without ceremony. “Tell you what!” he said. “Bring her to you! Won’t do for her to set out from m’sister’s house. Better not be seen here either. You know the Golden Cross? Very tolerable house, at Charing Cross. Meet you there, in an hour’s time. Not likely to see anyone we know, which we should, sure as check, if you set out from the Bear, in Piccadilly. Going back to Berkeley Square now: don’t want to waste any more time! Got important business to settle on my own account.”

He then picked up his hat, and his ebony cane, and departed, cutting short the Chevalier’s thanks and protestations.

Arrived once more in Berkeley Square, he found his sister civilly, if unenthusiastically, entertaining Miss Broughty in the drawing-room. From the wan look in one face, and the expression of long-suffering on the other, it was to be inferred that Meg’s attempts to divert her visitor’s mind had not been crowned with success. Upon Freddy’s entrance, Olivia started up, clasping her hands at her palpitating bosom, and exclaiming: “Oh, what have you done, sir?”

“Fixed it all right and tight,” responded Freddy. “Taking you to meet d’Evron at the Golden Cross in an hour’s time: be in Dover in time for dinner, I daresay. Packet to Calais tomorrow morning.”

This laconic explanation had the effect of momentarily stunning the ladies. Meg, the first to recover her power of speech, cried: “An elopement? She must not! Freddy, have you run mad?”

But Olivia, after gazing in a rapt manner at Freddy for several speechless moments, threw him into great embarrassment by seizing his hand, and kissing it. “Oh, Mr. Standen, how can I ever thank you?” she stammered. “Oh, how kind you are! Oh, I am so happy!”

“Thought you would be,” murmured Freddy, recovering his hand. “D’Evron very happy too. Means to take you to his mother immediately. Begs me to assure you—can place the utmost confidence in him! Going to be a queen, or some such thing: wasn’t attending very particularly, but got a notion that’s what he said.”

“But, Freddy, does she know the truth?” demanded Meg. “That he is not what we have believed him to be? That he is—”

“Oh, indeed, ma’am, I know everything!” Olivia assured her. “Oh, pray do not say I must not go to my Camille!”

“But—”

“Here, Meg, must have a word with you!” interrupted Freddy, gripping her arm, and propelling her towards the door. Outside the room, he released her, but said in a tone of strong censure: “If it ain’t just like you to be trying to throw a rub in the path, the very moment we are in a way to going on like winking! You hold your tongue, now, or you’ll plunge us all back into disorder!”

“Yes, but, Freddy, I have been thinking, and—”

“Well, I wish you won’t, because I never knew any good to come of it when you started thinking. Very likely to find ourselves in queer stirrups if we was to listen to you.”

“I declare you are the most odious creature alive!” said Meg indignantly. “Pray, have you considered what a situation I shall be in when that horrid woman discovers that I helped her daughter to elope?”

“Won’t discover it. Mean to warn her not to mention the matter. When Skelton tells her the girl ain’t been here—which reminds me: must remember to slip a couple of Yellow Boys into his hand!—well, when he tells her that, she’s bound to think of d’Evron. Won’t find him at his lodging. Paid his shot—at least, I hope he will—and gone! Plain as a pikestaff! Now, you be a good girl, Meg, and don’t, for the lord’s sake, try to think! Something more important to be done. Can’t let Miss Broughty go off without her nightgown! Must give her what she’ll need till she gets to Paris.”

“What, are you expecting me to give that wretched girl my own clothes?” demanded Meg.

“Won’t miss a nightgown, dash it! Better give her a shawl too.”

“If I do, will you promise never to tell Mama I had the least knowledge of this shocking business?”

“Promise anything!” said Freddy recklessly.

“Oh, very well, then!” Meg said, and went back into the drawing-room to invite Olivia to go upstairs with her to her bedchamber.

Some little time later, Freddy handed Miss Broughty into a hackney-coach, directed the coachman to drive to the Golden Cross, and took his seat beside his charge. At their feet reposed a modest valise, and over one arm Miss Broughty carried a folded shawl. Her cheeks were delicately flushed, her eyes were softly sparkling, and she appeared to be floating in some pleasurable dream. She was recalled by Freddy’s voice, addressing her, and turned towards him with a start. “Oh, I beg your pardon! I was not attending!”

“Just wanted to be sure all was right,” said Freddy. “M’sister give you everything you should have?”

“Oh, yes, she was so very kind, and she packed the bag with her own hands! I was quite overcome!”

“Did it herself, did she? Then I’ll lay a monkey she forgot something!”

“No, I am sure she did not! Only fancy! She would have me take such a pretty dress, to wear when I reach Paris, because she says this one I have on will be sadly crushed by the journey!”

A gleam of hope shone in Mr. Standen’s eye. “The lilac one?” he asked.

“No, it is not lilac, but green, and of the finest cambric!”

He sighed. “Thought she wouldn’t part with the lilac one,” he said mournfully. He passed under rapid mental review such articles as he supposed must be necessary to a female setting forth on a long journey, and suddenly said: “Hairbrush and comb. Toothbrush.”

Miss Broughty turned a stricken gaze upon him. “Oh, dear! I don’t think—Whatever shall I do?”

“Stop and purchase ’em,” replied Freddy, with decision. “Good thing you told me m’sister packed the bag. Where do you commonly buy such things?”

“I don’t know,” faltered Olivia. “I have not had occasion to buy them since I came to town. Oh, I am sure they can be had at Newton’s, in Leicester Square, only I—I have only a shilling or two in my purse, and I dare not go into Newton’s in case Mama might be there!”

“Get ’em for you,” said Freddy, putting his head out of the window to shout the new direction to the coachman.

“Oh, Mr. Standen, you are so very—! No, no, you must not!”

“Yes, I must,” said Freddy. “Can’t go off to France without a toothbrush. Wedding-present!”

Olivia saw nothing incongruous in this, but thanked him earnestly. While he braved the dangers of Newton’s Emporium, she remained cowering in her corner of the coach, dreading every instant that her mother’s face would appear at the window. But no such terrible sight assailed her eyes; and in a short space of time Mr. Standen rejoined her, placing on her lap a neat parcel; and the hack rumbled on towards Charing Cross.

Here, in the yard of the Golden Cross, pacing up and down, his watch in his hand, and on his face an expression of anxiety, they found the Chevalier. When he saw Olivia peeping from the window of the coach, he thrust his watch back into his pocket, and sprang forward to wrench open the door, exclaiming: “Mon ange, ma bien-aimée!”

“My Camille!” squeaked Olivia, almost falling out of the coach into his arms.

They embraced passionately. Mr. Standen, descending more soberly from the aged vehicle, observed these transports with fastidious pain, and felt that some explanation was due to the interested coachman. “French!” he said briefly. “Don’t you drive off! I shall be needing you. Er—no wish to meddle, d’Evron, but daresay you may not have noticed: couple of waiters looking at you over the blind! That your chaise? Get into it, if I were you!”

“Ah, my friend!” said the Chevalier, turning to him. “What can I say to you? How can I repay you?”

“No need to say anything at all,” replied Freddy firmly. “Pressed for time! Easily repay me! Very much obliged to you if you won’t visit London again!”

The Chevalier burst out laughing. “Ah, have no fear! Present, if you please, my compliments to my cousin—my regretful farewells!”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Standen! Pray, will you explain to dear Miss Charing how it was, and tell her that I shall never, never forget her kindness?” said Olivia. “And, oh, Mr. Standen, I am so very grateful to you for all—”

“Yes, yes!” said Freddy, shepherding them to where a post-chaise stood waiting. “Beg you won’t give it a thought! Pleasure!”

He then handed her up into the chaise, shook hands with the Chevalier, and waved goodbye as the horses began to move forward. After that, he turned back to the hackney. “Doctors’ Commons!” he commanded. “And don’t dawdle!”