False Colours

18

There was no more to be got from Sir Bonamy, who went off to enjoy his usual afternoon sleep in the library, saying that he was glad not to have that fidgety fellow, Cliffe, sharing the room with him any longer. Kit made no attempt to detain him. Every feeling might revolt against allowing his mother to be so deeply indebted to a man upon whom she had no claim, and who stood outside the family, but he could perceive no way either of forcing Sir Bonamy to state the sum of her obligation to him, or of discharging the debt, if he surmounted that first obstacle. The Cliffes were gone within an hour of rising from the nuncheon table; and Kit waited only to see them off before going across the park to Nurse Pinner’s cottage. He found Fimber, whom he had sent there earlier with a couple of bottles of wine, engaged in rather more than usually acrimonious hostilities with Nurse, and for once at a disadvantage, since the noble object of their jealousy was once more, and for the first time since her retirement, restored to Nurse’s fond and despotic care. Fimber had scored a point in having his services in helping his lordship to dress preferred to Nurse’s; but he had been obliged to yield to her superior skill in bandaging; to endure, in tight-lipped silence, her sharply authoritative warnings and instructions when he eased my lord into his shirt and coat; and to suppress his wrath at my lord’s tacit refusal to send her out of his tiny bedroom while he was dressed. She bustled in and out, full of interference, and addressing her nursling with such endearments as she had used during his childhood, so that the only course open to his valet was to adopt an attitude of meticulous respect towards a young gentleman whom he was burning to scold and to cross-question.

When Kit walked into the parlour, Fimber bowed, and immediately informed him that he would find his lordship in the garden. He added, dropping his voice in the manner of one imparting a confidence whose significance was known only to himself and Kit, that he would find his lordship a trifle on the fidgets.

“Lord bless the man, what else was to be expected?” Nurse exclaimed scornfully. “Do you go out to him, Master Kit! And if he is to go up to the house this evening, as her ladyship wishes, you may bring him back here, though there’s not a bit of need, for I can help him out of his coat better than you or Fimber. Nor I don’t want Fimber to come fussing round him at that hour of night, keeping him awake till all hours, with brushing his clothes, and I don’t know what besides, in the finicking way he has!”

“Well, we can talk about that later, Pinny,” Kit said pacifically. He added, with the flicker of an eyelid at the outraged valet: “Better get back to the house now, Fimber, or Norton will begin to wonder what’s become of you.”

He then made good his escape into the small, enclosed garden at the back of the cottage, where he found Evelyn moodily winding his way along the narrow paths which separated various beds filled with vegetables and currant bushes. Nurse had carried a chair out, and placed it in the shade of an apple tree; an open book lay on the ground beside it, with a clutter of newspapers and magazines.

Kit said cheerfully: “I wouldn’t be in your shoes for something, twin! There’s a pitched battle going on in the parlour!”

Evelyn was looking moody, but he laughed. “Oh, I don’t mind that! They’ve been skirmishing over me ever since you sent Fimber here. The thing is that every time he starts to give me one of his thundering scolds Pinny comes back into the room, so he’s obliged to stop, because by the mercy of God neither combs my hair if the other is present. I can’t think why not, but I can tell you I’m thankful for it! Has Mama managed to send the Cliffes packing? She said she meant to, if she could only hit upon a means of doing it. Did she?”

“Can you doubt it? I’ve just been waving farewell to them.”

“Mama is wonderful! How did she contrive to make them shab off?”

“By telling them that there was not an outbreak of scarlet fever in the village. I was afraid, when she began to talk of sickness, she was going to make it small-pox, which would have been doing it too brown. If you’re coming up to the house tonight, I’d best meet you in the nursery-wing, to make sure the coast is clear. Lady Stavely goes to bed at ten and the servants won’t come into the drawing-room once the tea-tray has been taken away.”

Evelyn nodded. “Yes, very well. Kester, I think I’ll go to Tunbridge Wells tomorrow. That’s one piece of business I can settle—and if I stay cooped up here for much longer I shall go mad!”

“I should think you might,” agreed Kit. “But you can’t go to Tunbridge Wells, for all that.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Kester, don’t you start talking fustian about my broken shoulder!” Evelyn exclaimed irritably.

“I wasn’t thinking about your shoulder. The fact is, Eve, you can’t go anywhere until I’ve disappeared. How are you to get there? Challow can’t drive you there in the curricle, because for one thing, someone would be bound to see you, and recognize you; and, for another, he can’t take the curricle out secretly, you know.”

“But he can take it out at your orders, and bring you here in it,” Evelyn pointed out, an impish gleam in his eyes. “Then, dear twin, you can take my place here, in hiding, and I can go to Tunbridge Wells!”

“Leaving my guests to fend for themselves! I would, if the matter were of any particular urgency, but as it doesn’t seem to be—no!”

Evelyn sighed. “I suppose not. But you’ll have to leave them, if you mean to go to Brighton in my stead.”

“I don’t. I came to talk to you about that,” Kit said. “Let’s sit down!”

He dragged Evelyn’s chair up to a wooden bench, and himself sat on the bench. “You won’t like this,” he warned Evelyn, “but you’ve got to know it.” He drew from his pocket the roll of bills Evelyn had given him, and handed it to him. “Here are your flimsies: they won’t be needed. The brooch was not counterfeit. I doubt whether any of Mama’s jewellery is—not even the necklace she says she sold on your behalf.”

Evelyn frowned at him, flushing slightly. “What the devil do you mean? She told me herself she had sold the brooch, and had had it copied!”

“Yes, that’s what she told me. But she also told me that she had several times employed Ripple to sell trinkets for her, which I imagine you didn’t know.”

“You may be very sure I didn’t.”

“Well, the long and the short of it, Eve, is that Ripple never sold anything for her. He gave her the price of that brooch and what he told her was a copy of it.”

Evelyn stiffened, his hand closing on the roll of bills so tightly that his knuckles whitened. His eyes blazed for an instant, then he lowered them to his clenched hand, and opened his fingers. “Why didn’t you give him this, then?”

Kit shrugged, half-smiling. “You may be able to: I found I couldn’t.”

“Kester, he had no right—!”

“No.”

“It is intolerable!” Evelyn said, in a suffocating voice. “How much does Mama owe him?”

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me.”

“He will tell me!”

“He won’t, Eve. Or anyone. I think you had better hear what passed between us.”

Evelyn nodded, his lips compressed. But when Kit reached the end of his unquestioned recital, the white, angry look had left his face, and although he still frowned there was a softer light in his eyes. He did not speak immediately, but a rather bitter smile curled his lips, and presently he said: “My father left me one thing I forgot to mention last night—humiliation! I shan’t be rid of that until I’ve repaid Ripple.”

“It isn’t in your power to repay him, twin.”

“Not yet. But it will be—when I’m thirty, if not before. I must talk to him.”

“Of course—but he bade me tell you it was none of your business, since it all happened during my father’s lifetime, when you couldn’t have rescued Mama. And further,” Kit said, with a twinkle, “that he didn’t want to have you buzzing round him like a hornet.”

Evelyn laughed, but ruefully. “No, no, how could he think I would?”

“Well, he knows you don’t like him! What’s more he told me that you hadn’t been able to wind him up in all the years you’d been trying to do it, so that it wasn’t likely I could!”

Evelyn pulled a grimace. “Not so bacon-brained, after all. I suppose I have tried to draw wool, now and now. I don’t dislike him precisely—or I shouldn’t, if he didn’t dangle after Mama, calling her his pretty, talking of his devotion, when even she knows how many mistresses he’s had in keeping! But I never suspected him of this! I own, I thought it was all a hum: that he pretended to feel an unalterable attachment to Mama because to be her most favoured cicisbeo added to his consequence.”

“Yes, so did I,” Kit agreed. “I think now, however, that he is devoted to her, in his way. Good-natured, too, and certainly generous—though he says himself that a few thousands here and there meant nothing to him.”

“I must see him!” Evelyn said, in a fretting tone. “He has placed me under an obligation, and however much I—I hate it, I am very sensible of it, and must tell him so, and make it plain to him that I hold myself responsible, in my father’s place, for Mama’s debts.”

“You will do as you think right,” Kit said equably. “We have also to consider, you, and Mama, and I, where you should go to until I am safely out of the country. You can’t remain cooped up here, and while Lady Stavely is known to be at Ravenhurst you can’t go to London, or to Brighton.”

“It’s a pity I didn’t break my neck instead of my shoulder. That would have solved all our problems,” remarked Evelyn. He turned his head to look at Kit, and added quickly: “No, no, I don’t mean that! Only funning, Kester!”

“Not one of your more diverting jokes, brother,” replied Kit. “I mean it hasn’t sent me into whoops, precisely!”

“I know, I know! don’t rake me down!” Evelyn begged, in a penitent voice. “The fact is, I’m blue-devilled!”

Kit nodded, but said: “Very likely. Of course we’re in the deuce of a hobble, but we shall bring ourselves off! When did we ever fail to?”

Evelyn smiled at him. “True! Don’t let us talk about my affairs: I’ll retire to Leicestershire. Let’s discuss yours instead! I suppose you can’t immediately announce your engagement to Cressy, but I’m strongly of the opinion that you should see Stavely before you go back to Vienna, and get his consent. I’ve been considering that, and I think I should go with you to Mount Street.”

“I don’t know that, but I agree that I must see Stavely as soon as may be possible. But my affairs are simpler than yours, and don’t call for discussion, Eve.”

“Mine are beyond discussion,” Evelyn answered. “I’ve had plenty of time for thought, and I can see that my case is pretty hopeless. You said as much last night, didn’t you?”

“I neither said it nor thought it.”

“Well, you said that my uncle will be opposed to my marriage to Patience Askham, and that is the same thing. I’ve tried to think he might not dislike it, but of course he will. How could I ask Patience to wait for six years? Even if I were sure that she loved me! I haven’t—I haven’t tried to fix her interest, and as things are—No, even if her father would permit me to declare myself, I mustn’t do it.”

“If ever I knew such a fellow!” exclaimed Kit, in a rallying tone. “Either you’re in alt, or in flat despair!” He laid a hand on Evelyn’s knee, and gripped it. “You’re not quite knocked up, you gudgeon! I shall try to see my uncle before I leave England, and though I don’t yet know just what I shall tell him you may depend upon it that your part in my story will be positively saintly!”

“If you try to pitch it as rum as that, he’ll smell out a hoax immediately!” Evelyn interrupted, laughing in spite of himself.

“Not at all! I fancy you sacrificed your own interests to further mine—and that he will believe. It won’t do to say anything about Miss Askham, and I don’t mean to. You will have to wait for a period, but not for very long, if you will but stop committing what he calls extravagant follies. Spend more of your time here, twin, and interest yourself in the estate! In fact, interest yourself to such a pitch that he’ll be only too glad to relinquish his authority! Urge improvements, demand information—pester him! Add a melancholy air to your demeanour, as though you had suffered a disappointment, and ten to one he’ll be so much concerned that he’ll greet with relief your engagement to Miss Askham!”

He spoke with a gay confidence which amused Evelyn, and served, for the moment, to put up his spirits; but he was not himself convinced. He knew his uncle’s inflexible nature too well to believe that he could be easily persuaded; nor was he able to entertain any hopes that he would look with favour upon Evelyn’s marriage to one whom he would infallibly consider a nobody. Knowing his twin, he entertained almost as little hope that Evelyn would adhere for any length of time to the line of conduct he had suggested to him. His disposition was too impetuous, his spirits too volatile, to enable him to wait, enduring boredom and frustration with patience. He would fall into one of his fits of despair, and seek alleviation in sprees and revel-routs.

It was therefore in a mood of considerable anxiety that Kit at last left his twin, and walked slowly back to the house, cudgelling his brain to discover a way to overcome difficulties which bore all the appearance of being insuperable. He began to feel almost as depressed as Evelyn, and was not cheered by the intelligence, imparted to him by Norton, upon his entering the house, that Miss Stavely had driven out with the Dowager. By way of solace, Norton offered him the newspapers, the post having come in some time previously.

It had brought no letters for Evelyn, but several for Lady Denville, and two franked by Lord Stavely, and addressed to his mother and his daughter.

Cressy was carrying her letter when she entered Lady Denville’s drawing-room, and she said, as she shut the door: “Godmama, I have had such good news from Papa! Albinia was brought to bed on Tuesday, and was delivered of a son! Papa is so delighted! He writes very briefly—just to tell me that it is a very fine child, and Albinia going on prosperously, in spite of a difficult labour.” She broke off suddenly perceiving that Lady Denville had been crying. She went swiftly forward, falling on her knees beside her ladyship’s chair, and saying: “What is it? Dearest, dearest Godmama, what has happened?”

Lady Denville made a huge effort to pull herself together, responding, with a valiant smile: “Why, nothing in the world, dear child! What was that you said? Your father has a son? Well, that is charming—at least, I suppose one must say it is, though for my part I consider he should have been content with his daughter, for it isn’t as though he had no brothers to succeed him, and I cannot think that any son of Albinia Gillifoot’s will be anything but an odious child!”

Cressy gave an involuntary giggle, but said: “Never mind that! Only tell me what has happened to distress you, ma’am!” Her eyes fell upon a closely written sheet of paper, lying on the table at Lady Denville’s elbow. “You have received disturbing news, ma’am? I do most sincerely trust you—you haven’t suffered a bereavement? One of your sisters, or your brothers?”

“Oh no, nothing of that nature!” Lady Denville assured her. “Much, much worse! Of course, I should be excessively sorry to hear that any of them had died, but I shouldn’t cry about it, because I hardly ever see any of them, and Baverstock and Amelia I positively dislike! To own the truth, it made me feel very low when I saw Evelyn this morning. Just when Kit had made me so happy, too! Dearest Cressy, indeed I am overjoyed! You are the very wife for my darling Kit, and so I’ve been thinking for the past sennight!”

Emerging from her ladyship’s scented embrace, Cressy blushed, laughed, and said: “Thank you, ma’am! I hope I may prove you right! I only know that he is the very husband for me! But why did it make you feel low to see Evelyn? Do you fear he may be worse injured than Kit thinks?”

“Oh no, I shouldn’t think so! To be sure, he does look rather pulled, poor lamb, but that’s nothing! Cressy, did Kit tell you about Miss Askham?”

“To be sure he did! I understand she is a very beautiful and—and sweet girl!”

“Well, she maybe,” said Lady Denville doubtfully. “But her name is Patience!”

“How pretty!” said Cressy, in encouraging accents. “Rather—rather Quakerish, and refreshingly unusual!”

“Do you think so?” Lady Denville grew still more doubtful. “But I fear she is Quakerish, Cressy, and, try as I will, I cannot feel that she will suit Evelyn! You know, my love—and I can say this to you now, without any hiding of the truth!—the girls he has previously fallen in love with have all been very lively and dashing!”

Cressy smiled. “But he has quite quickly fallen out of love with them,, hasn’t he, ma’am? Perhaps—being so dashing himself?—a quiet, gentle girl will suit him much better. I believe it is often so.”

“Yes, that is what Kit says. Kit thinks that this time Evelyn has formed a lasting passion, and of course Kit knows him as no one else does. But if he wanted a quiet girl I can’t conceive why he couldn’t have fallen in love with you, dearest! It seems so capricious of him! Not that I grudge you to Kit, for Evelyn is not my favourite son, whatever Kit may say. I love them both equally, and so he knows! The thing is that Evelyn is closer to me, because we have always lived together; but Kit is so much more dependable, and the greatest comfort to me! And I should think,” she added reflectively, “that he will make a charming husband.”

“Yes, so do I,” agreed Cressy, her eyes warm with amusement. She clasped one of Lady Denville’s hands, and ventured to say: “I feel, too, that Miss Askham will make a charming wife.”

“No,” said her ladyship decidedly. “Not charming, Cressy! A good wife, I dare say—in fact, I am sure of it, and it does make me feel very low, because she sounds to me to be such an insipid girl!”

Cressy patted her hand. “Oh no, I am persuaded you won’t think her so! I expect she is shy merely.”

Lady Denville looked at her in an awed way. “Cressy, she has been reared on the strictest principles, and her mama is full of propriety, and Evelyn says that they are all of them truly good and saintly! Indeed, he described Patience to me as an angel! Well, dearest, I wouldn’t for a moment deny that that is—is most admirable, but I find saintly persons excessively uncomfortable, and I cannot live with an angel!”

“But must you live with her, ma’am?”

“No, and I don’t mean to. I told Evelyn so, when he offered for you, for it never answers! Only, when I began to think of living by myself—Cressy, do you think I could afford to do so? I should be obliged to buy a house, for I don’t feel I could hire one; and I will not live in some dreadful, shabby-genteel quarter of the town, or miles and miles from anywhere, like Upper Grosvenor Place, where poor Augusta Sandhayes removed to when Sandhayes lost a great deal of money on ’Change and said they must hold household. And only think of the cost of the servants, and the carriages, and—and all the things I never have paid for!” Her eyes filled. “And when I consider that I have never been able to keep out of debt when I didn’t pay for such things, how could I possibly do so when I shall be obliged to?”

The question was unanswerable. Cressy sat back on her heels, a very thoughtful expression in her eyes, but she said nothing. The truth of Lady Denville’s words had struck home. She had not previously considered the matter; but she was well enough acquainted with her ladyship to realize that the income necessary to maintain her in the style to which she was accustomed must be far in excess of even the most handsome jointure. She realized, too, having a great deal of commonsense, that it would be folly to suppose that she would reduce her expenditure: she was quite incapable of doing so.

As though she had read the thought in Cressy’s mind, Lady Denville said: “It is of no use to tell me I must practise economy, because I can’t! Whenever I have tried to do so it has only led to much more expense. Denville’s sister—a most disagreeable woman, my love, besides being a nipcheese, which is much worse than being extravagant, because it makes everyone uncomfortable, on account of not employing a second footman, and serving horrid dinners—was used to prick at me, and instruct me in habits of economy, and I perceived then that I could never bring myself to practise such habits. I must own I could only be thankful when she died, for she never met me but what she asked me how much my dress had cost, and then said that I could have had one made for less than half the price. I know I could, but nothing would induce me to. You see, Cressy, ever since my come-out, people have said I was the best-dressed woman in London, and whenever I have gone to a party they looked to see what I was wearing, and how my hair was dressed, and—and copied me. I’ve led fashion, and I still do, so I couldn’t go to parties now, looking like a dowd! It is not that I am vain—at least, I don’t think I am—but—well, I can’t explain it to you! I dare say you might not understand—though you are always very well dressed yourself, dear one!”

“I do understand,” Cressy said. “Yes, and I couldn’t bear it if you were even the tiniest bit less—less exquisite, and nor could Evelyn and Kit! Godmama, you mustn’t set up your own establishment! Even if you could afford to do so, I am persuaded you wouldn’t like it. Consider how much you would miss having a gentleman to—to manage for you, and escort you to parties!”

“Well, I shouldn’t miss that,” said her ladyship candidly, “because I should still have plenty of gentlemen to escort me!”

“Yes, but no host for your own parties!” Cressy pointed out.

“No,” Lady Denville agreed. “That is the worst thing about being a widow. But in every other way it is most agreeable, I find. In fact, far more agreeable than being a wife! At least, it is for me, but not, of course, for you, dearest!” she hastened to add, with one of her lovely smiles. It faded; she looked stricken all at once, and older; and said: “I was forgetting. You see, it is of no consequence.” Two large tears welled over her eyelids, and rolled unheeded down her cheeks. She said sadly: “I have been such a bad mother, and I love them so very much!”

Cressy burst out laughing. “Godmama! Oh, I beg your pardon, but it is too absurd! Why, they adore you.”

Lady Denville carefully wiped the tears away. “I know they do, and I can’t think why they should—though I don’t think I have ruined Kit’s life. But when I saw Evelyn today—then I knew what a detestable parent I am!”

“He never said so!”

“Oh no, poor darling! But he asked me to forgive him for—for having failed at such a crisis, and left me in the lurch, and it almost broke my heart, because if it weren’t for my crushing debts, he could marry Patience tomorrow. I begged him not to think of them, but although he laughed, and turned it off, he was obliged to own that he does think of them, and—and has no hope of being able to marry Patience for years and years—which is as good as to say Never! Because it would be folly to suppose that his Uncle Brumby will approve of such a match, you know. And then he tried to joke me, saying that it was not my fault at all, but his, for having made his father think him too volatile to be trusted to manage his affairs, and that was almost more than I could bear, Cressy! Only, when he saw how distressed I was, he rallied me, in his enchanting way, saying that we were both blue-devilled, and that things weren’t so very bad, because even though it might not be in his power to discharge my debts at present, he knew he could compound with my creditors, or some such thing, and so there was nothing for me to worry about, or him either. I dare say you will think it very foolish of me to have believed he could do it, but—but when Evelyn sets out to coax me out of the hips, he is so very gay and persuasive that one cannot help feeling reassured! And I did feel that perhaps something could be done, if people knew they would be paid back as soon as Evelyn is thirty, and I was quite cheerful when I left him. And then the post came in, and—and brought me a shattering letter!” She ended on a sob and dabbed at her eyes again. “Mr—well, never mind his name! You wouldn’t know him, but he lent me rather a large sum of money some years ago, when I was quite at my wits’ end. I truly believed I should be able to give it back to him at the next quarter, when my allowance was paid, but it turned out to be otherwise. Indeed, it was wholly impossible, as I was obliged to explain to him. But I did contrive to pay him the interest, and invited his daughter to one of my parties, besides taking her for two drives with me in the Park, and introducing her to hosts of people, so what more could I do? And now he has written me a long letter, saying that much as he sympathizes with me, he cannot afford to continue in this way, because he has had a great many expenses which have been a sad drain on his purse, and so he must, though with the utmost reluctance, beg me to refund the sum he lent me. And, which I find more upsetting than anything, and quite outweighs his civility, he didn’t even get a frank for his letter, so that I have had to pay two shillings for it! At least, someone did, probably Norton, but it is the same thing—except that it will be poor Evelyn who will pay it in the end, when he pays all the household accounts.”

With only the faintest tremor in her voice, Cressy replied gravely: “A—a want of delicacy in him, to be sure, ma’am!”

“Exactly so! And in general, you know, he is a very gentlemanlike person.” She sighed. “I shall be obliged to repay him, but Evelyn is to know nothing about it. No, and not Kit either, mind that, Cressy! I trust you not to mention it to him!”

“Very well, ma’am, but—but can you repay the sum?” asked Cressy diffidently.

“Yes,” Lady Denville replied, “All my debts—all of them!” She rose, and picked up the offending letter, and carried it to her tambour-topped writing-desk, and put it away in one of the drawers. She said, in a constricted tone: “I have quite made up my mind to it. I ought to have done so when Denville died, but I could not bring myself to it. But now I can, and I will, because however bad a mother I have been there is nothing I wouldn’t do for my beloved sons! Now, pray, Cressy, don’t tell Kit that I cried a little!”

Cressy got up from her knees. “I won’t tell him anything you don’t wish me to, Godmama, but won’t you tell me how you mean to pay your debts, and—and why it makes you so unhappy?”

“Well, to own the truth, dearest, it utterly sinks my spirits only to think of going to live abroad, with a sensible female companion—but I dare say I shall soon grow accustomed!” said her ladyship, gallantly smiling.

“Going to live abroad with a—But why?” demanded Cressy, in bewilderment.

“Henry will insist on it. I know he will! Once before, when the twins were babies, he and Louisa—his sister—persuaded Denville that that was the only thing to be done with me, because—Oh, there were so many reasons, but it is a long time ago now, and it never happened, because the continent became quite unsafe, on account of Napoleon, which is why I never could dislike him as much as others did! But now the war is over, and people who find themselves run off their legs, like poor Brummell, go and live at horridly cheap places, where there are no parties, or gaming, or races, or anybody one knows!”

Cressy said indignantly: “Lord Brumby couldn’t be so inhuman!”

“Yes, he could,” answered her ladyship. “Either that, or the Dower House here—and very likely he won’t even offer me the Dower House, because he will think it is situated too close to Brighton, or that he couldn’t stop me going up to London, once my debts were paid.”

“Well, one thing is certain!” said Cressy, her eyes kindling. “Neither Evelyn nor Kit would countenance such an arrangement!”

“No,” agreed her ladyship. “Not if they know about it, and that is a very comforting thought! But I shall say that I would like to go abroad for a time, when Evelyn is married. And perhaps I shall be able to visit you and Kit, so it won’t be so very bad!”

After a slight pause, Cressy said slowly: “I think it would be very bad. Not at all the thing for you, Godmama! You would find living with a respectable female a dead bore.”

“I know I shall,” sighed Lady Denville. “And if it has to be my sister Harriet, it will be worse than a bore!”

“Oh no, that wouldn’t do at all!” Cressy said decidedly. She glanced at her ladyship, and gave a little laugh. “You mustn’t live with any female, ma’am! Consider, you have been used always to live with a gentleman! I know myself that one can’t easily accustom oneself to female companionship when that has been the case. That was why I was ready to accept Evelyn’s offer, even though I didn’t love him.”

“Yes, but—” Lady Denville broke off, an arrested expression on her face. Watching her, Cressy saw the mischievous look creep into her eyes. Suddenly she gave a tiny gurgle of laughter, and turned, and impulsively embraced Cressy. “Dearest, you have put a—a notion into my head! It is too absurd, and I am not at all sure—or even if—Well, I must think! So go away now, dear child, and don’t say a word to anyone about the talk we’ve had!”

“No, I won’t, I promise you,” Cressy said. “I am going to drive out with Grandmama for an hour. Papa’s letter has wonderfully restored her! She is aux anges, and is even prepared to forgive Albinia for having married him. I am strongly of the opinion that now is the moment to tell her that Kit is Kit, and not Evelyn, and if she continues in this benign humour I mean to do it!”