False Colours

21

Dinner at Ravenhurst, that evening, was not destined to be ranked amongst Lady Denville’s more successful parties. She, indeed, deriving consolation from the reflection that no one for whose opinion she cared a rush would ever know anything about it, sparkled with all her usual brilliance; but her harassed son showed signs of preoccupation; Miss Stavely was in a quake; the Dowager, too longheaded to denounce, in the presence of a stranger, the irreclaimable hedge-bird seated beside her, at the head of the table, was understandably filled with a thwarted rage which caused her to snap the nose off anyone so unwise as to address her; and General Oakenshaw was revolted by the discovery that his ancient rival (whom he variously stigmatized as a chawbacon, a bag-pudding, a ludicrously fat Bartholomew baby, and a contemptible barber’s block) was not only an honoured guest at Ravenhurst, but was apparently on terms of the most regrettable intimacy with his hostess.

The only person, in fact, who enjoyed the party was Sir Bonamy Ripple.

He had joined the rest of the company without the smallest expectation of enjoyment. The recuperative nap to which he had pinned his faith had been denied him: he had been unable to close his eyes; and he arose from his uneasy couch feeling as blue as megrim, and much inclined to suspect that he had received notice to quit. But when he entered the saloon in which the remaining members of the party were gathered his sinking spirits revived. Lady Denville, ravishingly beautiful in a golden satin gown, came towards him, bewitching him with her lovely smile, and murmuring, as she held out her hands to him: “Bonamy, my dear!”

“Amabel!” he breathed. “Well, upon my word! Exquisite, my pretty! Exquisite!”

“Truly? Then I’m satisfied! No one is a better judge than you of what becomes me!”

He was so much overcome by this tribute that words failed him, and he was obliged to content himself with kissing both her hands. Straightening himself from a bow which caused his Cumberland corset to creak ominously, he became aware of General Oakenshaw, and realized, with immense satisfaction, that that distinguished gentleman was observing this passage with blatant revulsion. From that moment his subsequent enjoyment of the evening was assured. Raising his quizzing-glass to his eye, he ejaculated: “God bless my soul! Oakenshaw!” Then allowing his quizzing-glass to fall, he surged forward, holding out his hand and saying, with an apologetic air which deceived no one: “My dear sir! You must forgive me for not immediately recognizing you! But when one begins to grow old, you know, one’s memory fails! How many years is it since I last had the pleasure of shaking your hand? Ah, well! best not inquire too closely into that, eh?”

“My memory has not failed!” countered the General. “I recognized you the instant you came into the room! Still as fat as a flawn, I perceive!”

“No, no, my dear old friend!” said Sir Bonamy, with unabated joviality. “It is like your kind heart to say so, but I am much fatter than that! But you haven’t changed a jot! Now I look at you more closely I see that you are still the same old—what was it they used to call you? Sheep-biter! No, no, what am I thinking of? That wasn’t it! Spider-shanks! Ay, how could I have forgotten? Spider-shanks!”

This interchange, while it wonderfully refreshed Sir Bonamy, afforded no pleasure at all to anyone else, with the possible exception of the Dowager. She, indeed, uttered a sharp crack of laughter, but whether this arose from amusement, or from an unamiable wish to vent her spleen on someone, whether she was acquainted with him, or (as happened to be the case) had never met him before in her life, was doubtful.

By the time dinner came to an end, even Lady Denville, whose delightful insouciance had been maintained, without apparent effort, throughout the meal, felt that the sooner her courtly but ancient admirer took his departure the better it would be for everyone; and she issued a softly spoken direction to Norton to bring in the tea-tray not a moment later than half-past eight. Since Cressy had been unable to warn her that the Dowager was in possession of her guilty secret, she was unprepared to meet the attack mounted against her by that formidable octogenarian the instant the door of the Long Drawing-room had been shut, and made no attempt to defend herself. All she did was to bow her shining head before the storm, saying wretchedly: “I know, I know, but indeed I never meant to cause so much trouble! It was my fault—all of it! Say what you like to me, ma’am, but pray, pray don’t lay the blame at poor Kit’s door!”

In the event, this spiritless behaviour stood her in excellent stead, as Cressy, on the brink of picking up the cudgels in her defence, providentially realized. The Dowager saidcrossly: “For heaven’s sake, don’t start to cry, Amabel! You’re a pea-goose, and always were, and that’s all there is to it! As for your precious Kit, you may leave him to fight his own battles! He has enough effrontery for anything!”

From this, Cressy, who had been doing her best to entertain the General when the Dowager exchanged a brief but pungent discourse with Mr Fancot during the course of dinner, deduced, thankfully, that he had not sunk beyond recall in her grandmother’s opinion.

“I have something to say to you, young man!” had said the Dowager, in a voice which was not less intimidating for being discreetly lowered. “

“I know it, ma’am,” he had responded. “I only wish that I could think of anything more to say to you than Forgive me! but I can’t.”

“I collect,” she said, glaring at him, “that you fancy you have only to smile at me to bring me round your thumb!”

“Indeed I don’t!” he replied, looking startled.

“Just as well! Next you’ll have the audacity to say you regret your conduct!”

“No, no, ma’am! You are far too much up to snuff to swallow such a plumper as that! How could I regret it?”

“For two pins,” she informed him, “I’d box your ears, Master Jack-sauce!”

That was the sum of their interchange. There was nothing in the scathing glance the Dowager cast at Mr Fancot to encourage him to suppose that she was at all mollified; but when the gentlemen later entered the Long Drawing-room it was noticeable that there was a hint of softening in her eyes, when they rested on the reprobate’s well-formed person.

The General showed no disposition to outstay his welcome. Pleading a fifteen-mile drive, he took his leave as soon as he had drunk one cup of tea. Kit escorted him downstairs to his waiting carriage, and was just about to tell Norton to send Fimber to him when he perceived that that faithful, if censorious, henchman was standing on the half-landing, where the graceful staircase branched to left and right. “Good! I want you!” he said, treading swiftly up the stairs, and grasping Fimber by the arm. “Fimber, I must have a word with my brother!” he said, under his breath. “I told him ten o’clock, but her ladyship ordered tea to be brought in earlier, and the coast should be clear in a very few minutes. Go down to the cottage, will you, and bring his lordship up to my room!”

“His lordship, Mr Christopher,” said Fimber, “as I was about to tell you, is already in your room—or, as I should say, his own room.” Having delivered himself of this reproof, he unbent, saying confidentially: “Which was imprudent, sir, as I told him, but can you wonder at it, knowing what he is, and the way Mrs Pinner frets him to fiddlestrings, carrying on as if he was in short coats, and scolding as I am sure I should think it very improper to do!”

“Well, that’s a new come-out!” retorted Kit. “Let me know when Norton has taken away the tea-tray, you old humbug!”

He found his twin moodily flicking over the pages of the latest number of the Gentleman’s Magazine. Evelyn looked up quickly, his frown changing to a smile. “Now, don’t scold, Kester! I’ve had enough of that from Fimber! Talk of jobations! But when it came to a glass of hot milk before being tucked up in bed at eight o’clock there was nothing for it but to escape from Pinny!” He rose, and began to pace restlessly about the room. “I’ve thought till my brain reels, Kester, but it’s hopeless!”

“Oh, no, it isn’t!” replied Kit. “Something has happened which entirely alters the situation. Tell me one thing, Eve! If you were not faced with the burden of our treasured parent’s debts, and were free to marry Miss Askham, would you be prepared to endure the Trust until such time as it may take you to convince my uncle that you are very well able to manage your own affairs?”

“Yes, I dare say, but since I am faced with that burden—”

“No, you’re not, brother!” interrupted Kit.

“Oh, am I not?” said Evelyn, a flash in his eyes. “I have already told you, Kester, that I will not, under any circumstances whatsoever, permit you to saddle a responsibility which is mine, and mine only!”

“I’m not going to saddle it, so come down from your high ropes! Now, listen, Eve! I have some news for you which I know very well you won’t like, but which you must stomach. Mama has accepted an offer of marriage from Ripple.”

“What?” Evelyn exclaimed thunderously. “It isn’t possible!”

“You’d have been even more incredulous had you been present when he made the announcement to me. Lord, Eve, I wish you had been present! He couldn’t have been cast into greater gloom if he had received a death sentence! My own view of the matter is that it wasn’t he who made the offer, but Mama.”

“Oh, my God, no!” Evelyn said, shuddering. “How could she do such a thing? How can you, Kester, think that I would let her make such a sacrifice? Just what sort of a contemptible skirter do you believe me to be? Don’t spare me!”

“I shan’t, if you don’t stop behaving like a Tragedy Jack!” replied Kit. “For God’s sake, twin, take a damper! I didn’t relish the notion either, but it will do, you know. I haven’t lived with Mama for as long as you have, but for long enough to realize that she’s no more fitted to live alone than a babe unborn! I know you think she’ll continue to live with you, but you may take it from me that she won’t. Well, what do you imagine will be the outcome, if she sets up an establishment of her own?”

“I know, I know, Kester, but—”

“I should rather think you might! Now consider what her life will be, if she marries Ripple!”

Their eyes met, and held, across the space that lay between them, Evelyn’s holding an arrested look, Kit’s very steady. It was he who broke the silence. “We always thought him a bobbing-block, didn’t we, Eve? Well, so he is, but he’s been a pretty firm friend to Mama! He isn’t in love with her now, but Cressy’s right when she says that he dotes on her. There’s very little he wouldn’t do for her, and the more she wastes the ready the better pleased he’ll be! Furthermore, twin, he’ll take better care of her than ever you or I could! I fancy that such loose fish as Louth will be speedily put to rout!”

There was a long silence. “If I thought that she would be happy—Oh, no, Kester, no! She’s doing it to smooth my path, and for no other reason!”

“Yes, I think she is,” agreed Kit imperturbably. “But if you imagine that she’s sacrificing herself, you’re fair and far off! It’s Ripple who is the sacrifice: Mama’s in high gig! I tell you, in all seriousness, Eve, that if you drive a spoke into this wheel you’ll be doing her the worst turn you could!”

“Kester, you know I wouldn’t—!” He broke off, as the door opened, and Fimber entered the room, and said impatiently: “Yes, what is it?”

“The tea-tray has been removed, sir,” said Fimber, addressing himself pointedly to Kit. “I have taken it upon myself to instruct Norton—informing him that such was your desire, Mr Christopher—to set out the brandy in the library. He will have no occasion, therefore, to enter the Long Drawing-room again this evening. I should perhaps add that, according to what he tells me, Lady Stavely has not yet retired, but is playing piquet with Sir Bonamy. I shall hold myself in readiness to accompany his lordship to Mrs Pinner’s cottage in due course.”

“That,” said Evelyn bitterly, as Fimber withdrew, “is what I have to endure! What now, Kester?”

“Now,” said Kit, “you are going to meet Lady Stavely, God help you! You are also going to felicitate poor old Ripple; and finally you are going to try and discover a way out of this scrape which will not set the ton by the ears!”

“There isn’t one!”

“There must be one!” said Kit firmly. “My life’s happiness depends upon it!”

“Then you find it!” recommended Evelyn. “I’m not the clever twin! Kester, what’s the old lady like? How do I deal with her?”

“Boldly! She’s a tartar!”

“Lord, I wish I’d never come home!” said Evelyn. “Don’t you dare to abandon me! I’m all of a twitter already!”

“Courage, brother!” said Kit, opening the door into the Long Drawing-room.

They entered the room together, and paused for a moment on the threshold. The Dowager, who had just picked up the cards dealt her by SirBonamy, laid them down again, staring at the twins in astonishment. She did not speak, but the sudden gleam in her eyes informed her granddaughter that she was not unappreciative of the picture quite unconsciously presented by the Fancot twins.

Apart, they were held to be very fine young men; together, with the candlelight glinting on their burnished heads, they were so striking that the Dowager, like many before her, was dazzled into thinking them the most handsome men she had ever beheld.

“Evelyn, my dear one!” exclaimed Lady Denville, springing up from the sofa, and going towards him with her light, graceful step, and her hands held out in welcome.

He took one in his own left hand, and kissed it, murmuring wickedly: “You are smart tonight, love! Dressed like Christmas beef!”

She chuckled, and would have led him forward, but he put her gently aside, and advanced down the room alone, to where the Dowager sat. If he was in a quake, no trace of it was apparent in his bearing. He bowed, and with a smile quite as disarming as Kit’s, said: “I owe you an apology, Lady Stavely. But indeed I couldn’t help it!”

In spite of herself, her lips twitched, and she put out her hand. “So you are Denville, are you?” she said. “H’m! You’d better beg my granddaughter’s pardon, young man!”

“Why, yes!” he agreed, his mother’s mischievous look in his eyes; and turned towards Cressy, holding out his hand. “So I do, Cressy—but you are very well rid of me, you know!” She had risen to her feet, and as she laughed, giving him her hand, he kissed it, and then her cheek, saying: “I wish you every happiness, my dear!”

“Thank you! May I return that wish?” she said demurely.

The smile in his eyes acknowledged the sly allusion, but he replied audaciously: “Indeed, I am excessively happy to have you for a sister!” He turned his head. “Kester!”

Kit strolled forward, but his eyes were on Cressy, warmly appreciative. Evelyn said: “If I have any right to this hand, may I bestow it on my brother, Miss Stavely? He is much more worthy of it than I am—but that I needn’t tell you!”

“Thank you, twin, that will do!” said Kit, receiving the hand, and clasping it strongly.

Evelyn laughed, and turned away to confront Sir Bonamy. He looked down at him, laughter dying, and his smile a little rigid. “Kit tells me, sir, that I must offer you my felicitations.”

Sir Bonamy, regarding him with all the wariness of one faced with a cobra, said: “Yes, yes! Very much obliged to you, Denville! That is—if you have no objection!”

“Eh?” exclaimed the Dowager. She looked sharply from Sir Bonamy to Lady Denville. “So that’s it, is it? Upon my word!”

“Yes, ma’am,” corroborated Lady Denville sunnily. “That’s it! Sir Bonamy has done me the honour to ask me to marry him, and I have accepted his offer.”

“You have, have you? Well,” said the Dowager trenchantly, “if that’s so, it’s the only sensible thing I’ve ever known you do, Amabel!”

Sir Bonamy, paying no heed to this, seized the opportunity to say, in an urgent undervoice: “Not if you dislike it, Denville! Naturally, it’s the dearest wish of my heart, but no need for you to take snuff! Only have to tell me! For I wouldn’t come between you and your mother for the world!”

Over his hapless head the twins’ eyes met for an instant of unholy joy. No more than Kit could Evelyn resist the appeal of the ludicrous; the rigidity melted from his smile; he produced his snuff-box from his pocket, unfobbed it with an expert flick, and offered it to Sir Bonamy, saying: “Take snuff? Yes, indeed! Will you try my sort, sir?”

“Well, that isn’t precisely what I meant, but—thank you, my boy! I’ve often wondered what your mixture is—a touch of old Havre, I fancy, and a suspicion—no more—of French Prize, added, of course, to—”

“Just so, sir—and you will not find it dry!”

Sir Bonamy, helping himself to a pinch, was shaken by one of his rumbling laughs. “Ah, that waswhere I was a trifle too knowing for Kit! Told you about it, did he? He hasn’t your deft way of opening his box, either!”

“Oh, he will never acquire that!” said Evelyn. “His taste is for cigars!”

“No!” uttered Sir Bonamy, profoundly shocked.

The Dowager broke in impatiently on this digression. “Now, listen to me,” she commanded, driving her cane into the carpet with an imperative thud. “Very pretty talking, all of this, but if you think—any of you!—that I’ll give my consent to this havey-cavey business you very much mistake the matter!”

“But, Grandmama!” interposed Cressy, releasing Kit’s hand, and sitting down beside the Dowager. “You told me more than once that you liked Kit! Why, this very day you said that he was a very proper man, and were ready to eat me for seeming to be unwilling to accept his offer! You said I was no better than a moonling!”

“Hold your tongue, girl! I’ll have you know that there has never been any scandal attached to the Stavelys, and I’ll have no hand in helping you to create one! A fine piece of work this is!”

“Well, of course, it is a little awkward,” agreed Lady Denville, “but I dare say it will soon be forgotten!”

“That,” said the Dowager witheringly, “is an observation only worthy of such a jingle-brain as you are, Amabel!”

A flush rose to Evelyn’s lean cheeks; but before he could speak Sir Bonamy forestalled him. “Perfectly true!” he pronounced, fixing the Dowager with his round-eyed stare. “I never knew a scandal that wasn’t precious soon ousted by another! What’s more,” he added, pointing a stubby finger at her, and wagging it, “if it hadn’t been for that dashed silly notice in the Morning Post there ain’t a soul worth a rush who would have known anything about this affair!”

“Yes!” Evelyn struck in. “Who was responsible for that notice? Not you, Mama!”

“No, indeed!” Lady Denville replied indignantly. “I may be jingle-brained but never have I been guilty of vulgarity!”

“No one said you had!” said the Dowager testily, and for once in her life disconcerted. “We all know it was Albinia who was responsible for that! Not that it’s proved against her, mind, but I’mnot one to blink what’s as plain as the nose on your face! It was her doing, no question about it! I wrote instantly to tell her that I knew it, and not one word has she dared set down on paper in reply! And if she thinks that because she has given Stavely an heir she’ll hear no more of the business she will very soon learn her mistake! But,” pursued the old lady, making a gallant recovery, “I’ll thank you all to remember that pretty well every member of the family believes that it was you, Denville, whom they was invited to meet in my son’s house, and you who had made her an offer!”

“What of that?” demanded Sir Bonamy, continuing to fret the Dowager with his unnervingly blank stare. “It ain’t to be supposed they’ll spread it about that they was hoaxed! They’ll do what you bid ’em, my lady!”

“Not all of them!” replied the Dowager unexpectedly. “Stavely saw fit to gather his relations together stock and block, and there were several sprigs there I never saw before in my life, and don’t wish to see again!”

“That’s very true!” said Lady Denville. “Only think of that tiresome young man who pestered Kit to buy a horse which I know poor Evelyn doesn’t want to own!”

“Lucton!” ejaculated Evelyn. “Kester, you didn’t?”

Kit, who had seated himself a little apart from the rest of the group, replied briefly: “Nothing else I could do.”

“Gudgeon!” said Evelyn. “An abominable screw! Why didn’t you consult Challow?”

He won no answer at all to this inquiry, Kit having relapsed into frowning abstraction. He took no part in the lively discussion that followed, although once or twice he showed that he was not wholly deaf to it by raising his eyes from contemplation of his own clasped hands to glance thoughtfully at one or other of the disputants. If the Dowager was brought to own that, despite his perfidy, she would be very well pleased to see her granddaughter married to Kit, only that hitherto pattern of superior sense and propriety herself maintained, in what the Dowager did not scruple to inform her was an unbecomingly highty-tighty manner, her unshakeable indifference to public opinion. Lady Denville was fully alive to the necessity of concealing (by unexplained means) the true facts of the case from the world; Evelyn, knowing that these could only be extremely prejudicial, if not fatal, to his twin’s career, came down heavily on the Dowager’s side; and threw Sir Bonamy into disorder by demanding whether he, an experienced exponent of the established mode, was sincere in declaring that no one would think anything more of the hoax than that it was a very good joke.

“But it’s something you have frequently done before!” urged Cressy. “Would people be so very much shocked?”

“I should hope they would be!” replied Evelyn tartly. “Good God, Cressy, I’d a better opinion of your understanding! Of course we have done it before, but only for the sport of it! That was one thing: this is quite another!”

“Oh, dear, that is exactly what Kit said!” exclaimed Lady Denville guiltily. “I ought never to have asked him to do it! It is all my wretched fault—only I was fully persuaded that you would have done the same thing for him!”

The swift change in his expression betrayed the difference that lay between his own mercurial temperament and Kit’s more evenly balanced one. The frown of fretting anxiety vanished; a zestful gleam, compound of recklessness and amusement, heightened the brilliance of his eyes; he burst out laughing. “You were right, love!” he told his mother. “I would! In a crack!” He threw a challenging look at the Dowager. “You might as well blame my brother for drawing breath as for coming to my rescue, ma’am: he couldn’t help himself! Nor could I! But he, if I know him, took my place that evening only for that reason, and with extreme reluctance; whereas I, standing in his shoes, should have had no reluctance whatsoever! I don’t know that I should have carried it off as well as he must have done, but I should certainly have enjoyed the fling, which he, even more certainly, did not!”

“No doubt!” she retorted. “It didn’t need your uncle Brumby to tell me that your brother’s worth a dozen of you, young man!”

“Oh, anyone could have told you that, ma’am!” he said cheerfully. “Indeed, I know of only two persons who would deny so obvious a truth: Kester himself, and my mother—who considers us both to be above criticism! Well, we are not, but you may believe, Lady Stavely, that neither he nor I would have entered into this particular hoax had we known that it would ever become known, or that we should be obliged to maintain the imposture! My brother presented himself to you that evening in the belief that either I had forgotten the date of the engagement, or had been delayed by some hitch, or accident, and must surely reappear at any moment. In fact, I had suffered an accident which knocked me senseless for days. When I did recover consciousness, and realized that the date of my engagement was past, I thought I must have ruined myself, and—to own the truth!—I was too pulled and battered to care! Had I known that my brother was in England, and desperately trying to save my face—but I didn’t know it, until I saw the notice in the newspaper! By that time he had not only been forced to keep up the pretence—which, once having entered into, he couldn’t abandon without, as he believed, serving me the worst possible turn—but he had fallen in love with Cressy, and she with him. But what I wish you will understand, ma’am, is that at the outset he had no other thought than to save my face!”

“And mine!” Cressy interpolated. “That thought also was in his mind, and in Godmama’s mind too, and whatever the outcome I should have been grateful to them for sparing me the humiliation I must have suffered had he not presented himself in your stead that evening!”

“Very noble!” said the Dowager. She added, in the querulous tone of a very old lady rapidly approaching exhaustion: “I don’t want to hear any more of your glib-tongued pittle-pattle! Find a way out of this abominable scrape that won’t set every tongue wagging, and Cressy may marry your brother with my goodwill! And that’s my last word!”

“Well, if that’s so, a way must be found!” said Evelyn. “But the only way I can see is for Kester to continue to be me, and for me to be him!”

The Dowager threw him a contemptuous glance; Cressy laughed; and Sir Bonamy paid no heed. But Lady Denville said earnestly: “No, no, dearest, that would never do! Only think how awkward it would be for you in Vienna, trying to make everyone believe you were Kit, when I dare say you don’t know anything about foreign affairs, or even who anyone is!”

“For heaven’s sake, don’t be such a widgeon!” snapped the Dowager, quite exasperated. “And if you can think of nothing better to do in this pass, Denville, than to cut silly jokes—”

“Not at all!” said Evelyn incorrigibly. “Kester could perform his part without the least difficulty, but Mama is far from being a widgeon! She has detected, in a flash, the flaw in my scheme! I had never the least turn for politics—”

“Or I,” interposed Kit, getting up, “for the management of estates!” He came forward, and said, addressing himself to the Dowager: “May I make a suggestion, ma’am? I know how tired you must be, but—but I think it just possible that there is a way out of the tangle.”

“Ah!” breathed Cressy, raising her eyes to his in a glowing look of confidence. “I knew you would find it—oh, I knew it, my dearest dear!”