The Grand Sophy

Chapter 6

“Is the knocker never still?” demanded Charles of his mother, after the departure of the fourth morning caller in one day.

“Never!” she replied proudly. “Since that day when you took dear Sophy riding in the Park, I have received seven gentlemen — no, eight, counting Augustus Fawnhope; Princess Esterhazy, the Countess Lieven, Lady Jersey, and Lady Castlereagh have all left cards; and — ”

“Was Talgarth amongst those who called, ma’am?”

She wrinkled her brow. “Talgarth? Oh, yes! A most amiable man, with side whiskers! To be sure he was!”

“Take care!” he warned her. “That connection will not do!’“

She was startled. “Charles, what can you mean? He seems to be on terms of great friendship with Sophy, and she told me Sir Horace had been acquainted with him for years!

“I daresay, but if my uncle means to bestow Sophy upon him he is not the man I take him for! He is said to be a gazetted fortune hunter, and is, besides, a gamester, with more debts than expectations, and such libertine propensities as scarcely render him a desirable catch in the marriage mart!”

“Oh dear!” said Lady Ombersley, dismayed. She wondered whether she ought to tell her son that his cousin had gone out driving with Sir Vincent only a day earlier and decided that no purpose could be served in dwelling on what was past. “Perhaps I should drop a hint in Sophy’s ear.”

“I doubt of its being well received, ma’am. Eugenia has already spoken with her on this subject. All that my cousin saw fit to reply was that she was quite up to snuff and would engage not to allow herself to be seduced by Sir Vincent, or anyone else.”

“Oh, dear,” said Lady Ombersley again. “She really should not say such things!”

“Just so, ma’am!”

“But, though I do not wish to offend you, Charles, I cannot help feeling that perhaps it was not quite wise of Eugenia to have spoken to her on such a subject. You know, my dear, she is not in any way related to Sophy!”

“Only Eugenia’s strong sense of duty,” he said stiffly, “and, I may add, Mama, her earnest desire to spare you anxiety, induced her to undertake a task which she felt to be excessively unpleasant.”

“It is very kind of her, I am sure,” said his mother in a depressed voice.

“Where is my cousin?” he asked abruptly.

She brightened, for to this question she was able to return an unexceptionable answer. “She has gone for a drive in the barouche with Cecilia and your brother.”

“Well, that should be harmless enough,” he said.

He would have been less satisfied on this point had he known that having taken up Mr. Fawnhope, whom they encountered in Bond Street, the occupants of the barouche were at that moment in Longacre, critically inspecting sporting vehicles. There were a great many of these, together with almost every variety of carriage, on view at the warehouse to which Hubert had conducted his cousin, and although Sophy remained firm in her preference for a phaeton, Cecilia was much taken with a caned whiskey, and Hubert having fallen in love with a curricle, forcibly urged his cousin to buy it. Mr. Fawnhope, appealed to for his opinion, was found to be missing, and was presently discovered seated in rapt contemplation of a state berlin, which looked rather like a very large breakfast cup, poised upon elongated springs. It was covered with a domed roof, bore a great deal of gilding, and had a coachman’s seat, perched over the front wheels, which was covered in blue velvet with a gold fringe. “Cinderella!” said Mr. Fawnhope simply.

The manager of the warehouse said that he did not think the berlin, which he kept for show purposes, was quite what the lady was looking for.

“A coach for a princess,” said Mr. Fawnhope, unheeding. “This, Cecilia, is what you must drive in. You shall have six white horses to draw it, with plumes on their heads, and blue harness.”

Cecilia had no fault to find with this program, but reminded him that they had come to help Sophy to choose a sporting carriage. He allowed himself to be dragged away from the berlin, but when asked to cast his vote between the curricle and the phaeton, would only murmur, “What can little T.O. do? Why drive a phaeton and two! Can little T.O. do no more? Yes, drive a phaeton and four!”

“That’s all very well,” said Hubert impatiently, “but my cousin ain’t Tommy Onslow, and for my part I think she will do better with this curricle!”

“You cannot scan the lines, yet they have a great deal of merit,” said Mr. Fawnhope. “How beautiful is the curricle! How swift! How splendid! Yet Apollo chose a phaeton. These carriages bewilder me. Let us go away!”

“Who is Tommy Onslow? Does he indeed drive a phaeton and four?” asked Sophy, her eyes kindling. “Now that would be something indeed! What a bore that I have just bought a pair! I could never match them, I fear.”

“You could borrow Charles’s grays,” suggested Hubert, grinning wickedly. “By Jupiter, what a kickup there would be!”

Sophy laughed, but shook her head. “No, it would be an infamous thing to do! I shall purchase that phaeton. I have quite made up my mind.”

The manager looked startled, for the carriage she pointed at was not the phaeton he had supposed she would buy, an elegant vehicle, perfectly suited to a lady, but a high perch model, with huge hind wheels, and the body, which was hung directly over the front axle, fully five feet from the ground. However, it was not his business to dissuade a customer from making an expensive purchase, so he bowed and kept his inevitable reflections to himself.

Hubert, less tactful, said, “I say, Sophy, it really ain’t a lady’s carriage! I only hope you may not overturn it round the first corner!”

“Not I!”

“Cecilia,” suddenly pronounced Mr. Fawnhope, who had been studying the phaeton intently, “must never ride in that vehicle!”

He spoke with such unaccustomed decision that everyone looked at him in surprise, and Cecilia turned quite pink with gratification at his solicitude.

“I assure you, I shan’t overturn it,” said Sophy.

“Every feeling would be outraged by the sight of so exquisite a creature in such a turnout as that!” pursued Mr. Fawnhope. “Its proportions are absurd! It was, moreover, built for excessive speed, and should be driven, if driven it must be, by some down-the-road man with fifteen capes and a spotted neckcloth. It is not for Cecilia!”

“Well!” exclaimed Sophy. “I thought you were afraid I might overturn her in it!”

“I am afraid of that,” replied Mr. Fawnhope. “The very thought of so ungraceful a happening must offend! It does offend! It intrudes its grossness upon the sensibilities; it blurs my vision of a porcelain nymph! Let us immediately leave this place!”

Cecilia, wavering between pleasure at hearing herself likened to a porcelain nymph and affront at having her safety so little regarded, merely said that they could not leave until Sophy had concluded her purchase; but Sophy, a good deal amused, suggested that she should withdraw with her swain to await her in the barouche.

“Y’know,” Hubert said confidentially, when the pair had departed, “I don’t know that I blame Charles for not being able to stomach that fellow! He is quite paltry!”

Within three days of this transaction, Mr. Rivenhall, exercising his grays in the Park, paused by the Riding House to take up his friend, Mr. Wychbold, sauntering along in all the glory of pale yellow pantaloons, shining hessians, and a coat of extravagant cut and delicate hue. “Good God!” he ejaculated. “What a devilish sight! Get up, Cyprian, and stop ogling all the females! Where have you been hiding yourself this age?”

Mr. Wychbold mounted into the curricle, disposing his shapely limbs with rare grace, and replied, with a sigh, “The call of duty, dear boy! Visiting the ancestral home! I do what I may with lavender water, but the aroma of the stables and the cow byres is hard to overcome. Charles, much as I love you, if I had seen that neckcloth before I consented to let you drive me round the Park!”

“Don’t waste that stuff on me!” recommended his friend. “What’s wrong with your chestnuts?”

Mr. Wychbold, one of the shining lights of the Four-Horse Club, sighed mournfully. “Dead lame! No, not both, but one, which is quite as bad. Would you believe it? I let my sister drive them! Take it as a maxim, Charles, that no woman is to be trusted to handle the ribbons!”

“You haven’t yet met my cousin,” replied Mr. Rivenhall, with a twisted smile.

“You are mistaken,” said Mr. Wychbold calmly. “I met her at the Gala night at Almack’s, which, dear boy, you might have known, had you not absented yourself from that gathering.”

“Oh, you did, did you? I have no turn for that form of insipidity.”

“Wouldn’t have done you any good if you had,” said Mr. Wychbold. “There was not getting near your cousin; at least, there wouldn’t have been for you. I managed it, but I have a great deal of address. Danced the boulanger with her. Devilish fine girl!”

“Well, it’s time you were thinking of getting married. Offer for her! I shall be much obliged to you.”

“Almost anything else for you sake, dear boy, but I ain’t a marrying man!” said Mr. Wychbold firmly.

“I wasn’t serious. To be honest with you, if you took such a notion into your head I should do my utmost to dissuade you. She is the most tiresome girl I ever hope to meet. The only thing I know to her credit is that she can drive to an inch. She had the damned impertinence to steal my curricle when my back was turned for five minutes.”

“She drove these grays?” demanded Mr. Wychbold.

“She did. Well up to their bits, too. All to force me into buying a phaeton and pair for her to lionize in! I shan’t do it, but I should rather like to see how she would handle such a turnout.”

“No wish to raise false hopes,” said Mr. Wychbold, who had been watching the approach of a dashing perch phaeton, “but can’t help thinking that that’s just what you’re about to do, dear fellow! Though why your cousin should be driving Manningtree’s bays beats me!”

“What?” ejaculated Mr. Rivenhall sharply. His incredulous gaze fell upon the phaeton coming toward him at a smart trot. Very much at home in the perilous vehicle, seated high above her horses, with her groom beside her, and holding her whip at exactly the correct angle, was Miss Stanton-Lacy, and if the sight afforded Mr. Rivenhall pleasure, he vouchsafed no sign whatever of this. He looked at first thunderstruck and then more than usually grim. As the pace of the bays slackened and dropped to a walk, he reined in his own pair. The two carriages came to a halt abreast of each other.

“Cousin Charles!” said Sophy. “And Mr. Wychbold! How do you do? Tell me, Cousin, what do you think of them? I am persuaded I have a bargain in them.”

“Where,” demanded Mr. Rivenhall, “did you get those horses?”

“Now, Charles, for the Lord’s sake don’t be birdwitted!” implored Mr. Wychbold, preparing to descend from the curricle. “You must see she has Manningtree’s match geldings there! Besides, I told you so a minute ago. But how is this, Miss Stanton-Lacy? Is Manningtree selling up?”

“So I believe,” she smiled.

“By Jove, you have stolen a march on me, then, for I have had my eye on that pair ever since Manningtree sprang ’em on the town! How did you get wind of it, ma’am?”

“To own the truth, I knew nothing about the matter,” she confessed. “It was Sir Vincent Talgarth who put me in the way of buying them.”

“That fellow!” interpolated Mr. Rivenhall explosively. “I might have known!”

“Yes, so you might,” she agreed. “He is quite famous for knowing all the news before others have heard even a rumor. May I take you up, Mr. Wychbold? If I have stolen a march on you the least amends I can make is to off to let you drive my pair.”

“Don’t hesitate to tell me which of my mother’s or my horses you would like me to remove from the stables to make room for these!” begged Mr. Rivenhall, with savage civility. “Unless, of course, you are setting up your own stables!”

“Dear Cousin Charles, I hope I know better than to put you to such shocking inconvenience! John Potton here has seen to all that. You are not to be troubled with my horses! Get down, John. You need not fear to let Mr. Wychbold have your place, for if the horses should bolt with me he is better fitted to get them under control again than either of us.”

The middle-aged groom, having favored Mr. Wychbold with a long scrutiny, appeared to be satisfied, for he obeyed without making any comment. Mr. Wychbold leaped up lightly into the phaeton; Sophy nodded farewell to her, cousin; and the bays moved forward. Mr. Rivenhall watched the phaeton smolderingly for a moment or two, and then lowered his gaze to the groom’s countenance. “What the devil were you about to let your mistress buy a damned dangerous carriage like that?” he demanded.

“Don’t you put yourself in a pucker of Miss Sophy, sir!” said John, in a fatherly way. “Sir Horace himself couldn’t stop her, not when she’s got the bit between her teeth! Many’s the time I’ve told Sir Horace he should have broke her to bridle, but he never done it, nor tried to.”

“Well, if I have much more — ” Mr. Rivenhall pulled himself up short, realizing how improper was this interchange. “Damn your impudence!” he said, and set his grays in motion with a plunge that betrayed the state of his temper.

Mr. Wychbold, meanwhile, was most gallantly refusing to take the reins from Miss Stanton-Lacy. “Dashed if I ever thought I should say so, but it’s a pleasure to be driven by a lady who handles ’em as well as you do, ma’am! Very sweet goers, too; shouldn’t be surprised if Charles has had his eye on ’em, which would account for his flying into one of his miffs.”

“No, no, I am sure you wrong him! He has flown into a miff because I bought them against his advice — indeed, in the face of his prohibition! Do you know my cousin well, sir?”

“Known him since we were at Eton.”

“Then tell me! has he always wanted to rule the roost?”

Mr. Wychbold considered this, but arrived at no very exact conclusion. “Well, I don’t know,” he said. “Always one to take the lead, of course, but a man don’t come the ruler over his friends, ma’am. At least . . .” He paused, recalling past incidents. “Thing is, he’s got an awkward temper, but he’s a dashed good friend!” he produced. “Told him times out of mind he ought to watch that devilish unpleasant tongue of his, but the fact is, ma’am, there’s no one I’d liefer go to in a fix than Charles Rivenhall!”

“That is a tribute indeed,” she said thoughtfully.

Mr. Wychbold coughed deprecatingly. “Never mentioned the matter to me, of course, but the poor fellow’s had a deal to bear, if the half of what one hears is true. Turned him sour. Often thought so! Though why the deuce he must needs get himself engaged to that — ” He broke off in considerable confusion. “Forgotten what I was going to say!” he added hastily.

“Then that settles it!” said Sophy, dropping her hands slightly and allowing the bays to quicken their pace.

“Settles what?” asked Mr. Wychbold.

“Why, Cecilia told me that you were his particular friend, and if you think it will not do I need have no scruples. Only fancy, Mr. Wychbold, what misery for my dear aunt, and those poor children to have that Friday-faced creature setting them all to rights! Living under the same roof, and, you may depend upon it, encouraging Charles to be as disagreeable as he can stare!”

“It don’t bear thinking of!” said Mr. Wychbold, much struck.

“It must be thought of!” replied Sophy resolutely.

“No use thinking of it,” said Mr. Wychbold, shaking his head. “Betrothal puffed in all the papers weeks ago! Would have been married by now if the girl hadn’t had to put up a black ribbon. Very good match, of course — woman of quality, handsome dowry, I daresay, excellent connections!”

“Well,” said Sophy large mindedly, “if his heart is in the business, I suppose he must be permitted to have his way, but he shall not inflict her upon his family! But I do not think his heart has had anything to say in it, and as for her, she has none! There! That is cutting up a character indeed!”

Mr. Wychbold, stirred to enthusiasm, said in a confidential tone, “Know what, ma’am? Been on the Marriage Mart for two whole years! Fact! Set her cap at Maxstoke last year, but he sheared off. Odds shortened to evens, too, in the clubs, but he got clean away.” He sighed. “Charles won’t. In the Gazette, you know; poor fellow couldn’t declare off if he wanted to!”

“No,” agreed Sophy, her brow creased. “She could, however.”

“She could, but she won’t,” said Mr. Wychbold positively.

“We’ll see!” said Sophy. “At all events, I must and I will prevent her making those poor dears miserable! For that is what she does, I assure you! She is forever coming to Berkeley Square and casting everyone into the dumps! First it is my aunt, who goes to bed with a headache when she has had the creature with her for half an hour; then it is Miss Adderbury, to whom she says the horridest things in that odiously sweet voice she uses when she means to make mischief! She wonders that Miss Adderbury should not have taught the children to read Italian. She is surprised that she makes so little use of the backboard, and tells Charles that she fears little Amabel is growing to be round shouldered! Stuff! She is trying even to persuade him to take their monkey away from the children. But what is worse than all is that she sets him against poor Hubert! That I cannot forgive! She does it in such a shabby way, too! I do not know how I kept my hands from her ears yesterday, for the silly boy had on a new waistcoat — quite dreadful, but he was so proud of it — and what must she do but draw Charles’s attention to it, pretending to chaff Hubert, you know, but contriving to make it appear that he was forever buying new clothes and squandering away his allowance on fripperies!”

“What a devilish woman!” exclaimed Mr. Wychbold. “Must say I shouldn’t have expected Charles to take that kind of thing tamely! Never one to stand interference!”

“Oh, it is all done with such seeming solicitude that he doesn’t see what lies at the root of it — yet!” said Sophy.

“Very bad business,” said Mr. Wychbold. “Nothing to be done, though.”

“That,” said Sophy severely, “is what people always say when they are too lazy, or perhaps too timorous, to make a push to be helpful! I have a great many faults, but I am not lazy, and I am not timorous, though that, I know, is not a virtue, for I was born without any nerves at all, my father tells me, and almost no sensibility. I don’t know that I shall, for I have not yet made up my mind just what I should do, but I may need your assistance in breaking this foolish engagement.” She perceived, in a quick glance at his face, that he was looking extremely scared, and added reassuringly, “Very likely not, but one never knows, and it is always well to be prepared. Now I must put you down, for I see Cecilia awaiting me, and she had promised to let me drive her round the Park once she is assured I shan’t overturn the phaeton.”

“No fear of that!” said Mr. Wychbold, wondering what else this alarming young woman might overturn during her sojourn in Berkeley Square.

He shook hands, told her that if they would but allow females to belong to the Four-Horse Club he should certainly support her candidature, and sprang down from the phaeton, to exchange greetings with Cecilia, who, with Miss Adderbury and the children, were waiting beside the Drive. Gertrude, Amabel, and Theodore naturally asserted their claims to be taken up beside their cousin in preference to their elder sister, but after these had been firmly dealt with Mr. Wychbold helped Cecilia to mount into the carriage, bowed, and strolled off.

It had struck Sophy immediately that Cecilia was looking pale, while the little governess was plainly laboring under a considerable degree of suppressed agitation; so, since she believed in getting to the root of any matter without wasting time on circumlocution, she at once demanded bluntly, “Now, why are you looking as blue as megrim, Cecy?”

Tina, who, during Mr. Wychbold’s occupation of the passenger’s seat, had nestled inconspicuously behind her mistress’s feet, now crawled out from beneath the drab rug, and jumped on to Cecilia’s knee. Cecilia clasped her mechanically and stroked her, but said in a tense voice, “Eugenia!”

“Oh, the deuce take that creature!” exclaimed Sophy. “Now what has she done?”

“She was walking here with Alfred,” said Cecilia, “and she came upon us!”

“Well,” said Sophy reasonably, “I own I do not like her, and Alfred is certainly the horridest little beast in nature, but I see nothing in that to put you so much out of countenance! He cannot have tried to put his arm round your waist if his sister was present!”

“Oh, Alfred!” said Cecilia contemptuously. “Not but what he would have me take his arm, and then squeezed it in the most odious way, and ogled, and said all the sort of things that make one itch to slap his face. But I care nothing for him! You see, Sophy, Augustus was with me!”

“Well?” said Sophy.

“It is true that we had fallen a little way behind Addy, for how can one have any rational conversation with the children chattering all the time? But she was not out of sight, and we had not stolen down a lonely path — at least, it wasn’t one of the more frequented paths, but Addy was there all the time, so what could it signify? — and to say that I was meeting Augustus clandestinely is wickedly unjust! Anyone would suppose him to be some hateful adventurer, instead of someone I have known all my life, pretty well! Why shouldn’t he walk in the Park? And if he does so, and we meet, pray, why should I not talk to him?”

“No reason at all. Did that repellent girl give you a scold?”

“Not me so much as poor Addy. She is in despair, for Eugenia seems to have said she was betraying Mama’s trust and encouraging me in clandestine behavior. She was quite odious to me, but she could not say anything very much, because Augustus was with me. She made him walk with her instead and told Alfred to give me his arm, and I felt smirched, Sophy, smirched!”

“Anyone would, who was obliged to take Alfred’s arm,” agreed Sophy.

“Not that! But Eugenia’s manner! As though she had found me out in something disgraceful! And that is not the worst! Charles is driving here, and not a moment before you came up he went past us with Eugenia seated beside him. He gave me the coldest look! She has told him all about it, depend upon it, and now he will be furious with me, and very likely work upon Mama as well, and everything will be sp dreadful!”

“No, it won’t,” said Sophy coolly. “In fact, I shouldn’t be at all surprised if this turned out to be a very good thing. I cannot explain all that to you now, but I do beg of you, Cecy, not to be so distressed! There is no need. I assure you there is none! Very likely Charles will not say a word to you about this.”

Cecilia turned incredulous eyes toward her. “Charles not say a word? You don’t know him! He was looking like a thundercloud!”

“I daresay he was; he very often does, and you are such a goose that you instantly quake like a blancmanger,” replied Sophy. “Presently, I shall set you down, and you will join poor little Addy and continue your walk. I shall go home, where I am pretty sure to find your brother, for we have driven right round the Park now and seen no sign of him, and I know he will go back to Berkeley Square, for I heard him mention to my uncle that somebody called Eckington would be calling there at five o’clock.”

“Papa’s agent,” said Cecilia listlessly. “And I don’t see, dearest Sophy, what it signifies, whether you find Charles at home or not, because he won’t speak of this to you. Why should he?”

“Oh, won’t he just?” retorted Sophy. “Depend upon it, by this time he will have persuaded himself that everything has been my fault from start to finish! Besides, he is furious with me for having bought this turnout without his help, yes, and for having hired a stable of my own, too! He must be longing for me to come back to the house so that he can quarrel with me without fear of interruption. Poor man! I think I should put you down at once, Cecy.”

“How brave you are!” Cecilia said wonderingly. “I do not know how you can bear it!”

“What, your brother’s tantrums? I see nothing to be afraid of in them!”

Cecilia shuddered. “It is not being afraid precisely, but I dread people being angry and thundering at me! I cannot help it, Sophy, and I know it is poor spirited of me, but my knees shake so, and I feel quite sick!”

“Well, they shan’t be made to shake today,” said Sophy cheerfully. “I am going to spike Charles’s guns. Oh, see! There is Francis Wolvey! The very thing! He shall restore you to Addy for me.”

She drew up as she spoke, and Lord Francis, who had been chatting to two ladies in a landaulet, came up to the phaeton,

“Sophy, a capital turnout! ’Servant, Miss Rivenhall! I wonder to see you trust yourself to such a madcap, I do indeed! She overturned me in a gig once. A gig!”

“What an unhandsome thing to say!” said Sophy indignantly. “As though I could have helped it on such, a road. Grenada! Oh, dear, what a long time ago it seems, to be sure!

“I came up with Sir Horace, and stayed with Mrs. Scovell,” supplied Lord Francis. “She was the only lady living at Headquarters that winter and used to hold loo parties. Do you remember?”

“Of course I do! And more vividly still the fleas in that dreadful village! Francis, I must pick up John Potton and be off. Will you escort my cousin to meet her little brother and sisters? They were walking with their governess somewhere beside the Drive.”

Lord Francis, upon whom Cecilia’s beauty had made a great impression when he had met her on the occasion of his calling in Berkeley Square, promptly said that nothing would give him more pleasure, and reached up his hands to help her down from the phaeton. He said that he hoped that they would not too speedily encounter the schoolroom party, and Cecilia, not impervious to his easy, friendly address, and evident admiration, began to look more cheerful.

Sophy, well satisfied saw them walk off together, and drove to where her groom awaited her by the Stanhope Gate. He reported that he had watched Mr. Rivenhall pass through it not many minutes earlier, and added, with a dry chuckle, that he looked to be on his high ropes still.

“Damned my impudence, Miss Sophy, and fair jobbed at the grays’ mouths!”

“Why, what had you said to enrage him?”

“All I said was you hadn’t never been broke to bridle, missie, and what with him being in agreement with me, and not able to say so, there was nothing for it but to damn me and drive off. I don’t blame him! Hot at hand, Miss Sophy, that’s what you are!”

Upon her arrival in Berkeley Square, Sophy found that Mr. Rivenhall had only just entered the house, having walked round from the mews. He was still wearing his caped driving coat, and had paused by the table in the hall to pick up and read a note that had been sent by one of his friends. He looked up frowningly as Dassett admitted Sophy, but he did not speak. Tina, who had developed (her mistress considered) an ill-judged passion for his society, frisked gaily up to him and employed every art known to her to attract his attention He did indeed glance down at her, but so far from encouraging her advances, said curtly, “Quiet!”

“Ah, so you are in before me!” remarked Sophy, pulling off her gloves. “Now, give me your candid opinion of those bays! Mr. Wychbold fancies you may have had an eye upon them yourself. Is that so?”

“Quite above my touch, Cousin!” he replied.

“No, really? I gave four hundred guineas for them, and think I have a bargain.”

“Were you serious when you gave me to understand that you have set up your own stable?” he demanded.

“Certainly I was serious. A pretty thing it would be if my aunt were obliged to bear the charge of my horses! Besides, I may very likely purchase two more, if I can find a couple to match the bays. I am told that it is all the crack to drive a phaeton and four, though I suppose that would mean altering the shafts, which would be a bore.”

“I have no control over your actions, Cousin,” he said coldly. “No doubt if it seems good to you to make a spectacle of yourself in the Park, you will do so. But you will not, if you please, take any of my sisters up beside you!”

“But it doesn’t please me,” she said. “I have already taken Cecilia for a turn round the Drive. You have very antiquated notions, have you not? I saw several excessively smart sporting carriages being driven by ladies of the highest ton!”

“I have no particular objection to a phaeton and pair,” he said still more coldly, “though a perch model is quite unsuited to a lady. You will forgive me if I tell you that there is something more than a little fast in such a style of carriage.”

“Now, who in the world can have been spiteful enough to have put that idea into your head?” wondered Sophy. He flushed, but did not answer.

“Did you see Cecilia?” asked Sophy. “She was looking quite ravishing in that new hat your Mama was so clever as to choose for her!”

“I did see Cecilia,” he replied grimly. “What is more, I, like you, Cousin, know just how she had been spending her time! I am going to be extremely plain with you!”

“If you wish to be extremely plain with me,” she interrupted, “come into the library! It is quite improper in you to be talking of family matters where you may be overheard. Besides, I have something of a decidedly delicate nature to say to you.”

He strode at once to the door into the library and flung it open. She went past him into the room, and he followed her, shutting the door behind him too soon for Tina, who was left on the other side. This made it necessary for him to open it again, Tina’s orders to him to do so being at once shrill and imperative. This trifling anticlimax did nothing to improve his temper, and it was with a very unpleasant edge to his voice that he said, “We will take the gloves off, Cousin Sophy! Whether or not it was you who arranged an assignation in the Park for my sister with young Fawnhope, I am well aware that you — ”

“Isn’t Cecilia dashing?” said Sophy approvingly. “She walked with Fawnhope, and then with Alfred Wraxton, and I left her with Lord Francis! And that, dear Cousin Charles, is what I wanted to speak to you about! Far, far be it from me to interfere in the affairs of your family, but I think I ought perhaps to give you a hint. I know it is awkward for you, situated as you are, but you will know how to drop a word in Cecy’s ear.”

He was thrown out of his stride by this unexpected gambit, and stared at her. “What the devil are you talking about?”

“I don’t entirely care to mention it,” said Sophy mendaciously, “but you know how fond I am of Cecy! Then, too, I have been about the world and have learnt to take care of myself. Cecy is such an innocent! There is not a particle of harm in Augustus Fawnhope, and Francis Wolvey is by far too great a gentleman to go beyond the line. But you should not encourage so lovely a girl as your sister to stroll about the Park with the Dishonorable Alfred, Charles!”

He was so much taken aback that for a moment he did not say a word. Then he demanded an explanation.

“He is the kind of odious little toad who kisses the housemaids on the stairs,” replied Sophy frankly.

“My sister is not a housemaid!”

“No, and I do trust she will know how to keep him at arm’s length.”

“May I know whether you have the slightest grounds for bringing this charge against Wraxton?”

“If you mean, have I seen him kiss a housemaid, no, dear Charles, I have not. If, on the other hand, you mean, has he tried to kiss me, yes, dear Charles, he has. In this very room, too.”

He looked angry and mortified. “I am extremely sorry that you should have been annoyed in such a fashion under this roof,” he said, getting the words out with an effort.

“Oh, I don’t mind it! I told you I was able to take care of myself. But I doubt whether anyone could prevent his — his squeezing and stroking habits or convince him that the style of his conversation is quite improper.”

She had been taking off her pelisse as she spoke, and she now laid it aside and sat down in a winged chair beside the fireplace. After a moment he said, in a milder tone, “I shall not pretend that I have any liking for Wraxton, for I have not. So far as it lies within my power I shall certainly discourage his visits to this house. My situation is, however, as you said yourself, awkward. I would not, upon any account, have this come to Miss Wraxton’s ears.”

“No, indeed!” she said warmly. “For you to be telling tales of her brother to Miss Wraxton would be the shabbiest thing!”

He was leaning his arm along the mantelpiece and had been looking down into the fire, but at that he raised his head, and shot a penetrating glance at Sophy. She thought there was a good deal of comprehension in his eyes, but he only said, “Just so, Cousin.”

“Do not refine too much upon it!” she advised him kindly. “I do not mean to say that Cecy has a tendre for him, for she thinks him even more odious than I do.”

“I am well aware that she has no tendre for him. I thank you!” he retorted. “She is infatuated with that puppy, Fawnhope!”

“Of course she is,” said Sophy.

“I am also aware that you have made it your business from the day you entered this house to encourage this folly by every means within your reach! You and Cecilia have been constantly seen in Fawnhope’s company; you pretended he was a friend of yours so that he might have an excuse for calling here six days out of the seven; you — ”

“In a word, Charles, I have thrown them continually together. I have, and if you had a grain of sense you would have done so weeks before I came to town!”

He was arrested for a moment, and then asked incredulously, “Do you imagine by doing so you will cure Cecilia? Or that I am likely to believe you have any such intention in mind?”

“Well, I don’t know,” she answered, giving the matter some thought. “One of two things must happen, you know. Either she will grow weary of Augustus — and I must say I do think that very probable, because although he is so handsome and can be very engaging when he chooses, he is shockingly tiresome, besides forgetting Cecilia’s existence just when he should be most solicitous — or she will continue to love him, in spite of his faults. And if that happens, Charles, you will know that it is not an infatuation, and you will be obliged to consent to their marriage.”

“Never!” he said, with considerable violence.

“But you will,” she insisted. “It would be wicked to try to force her into another marriage, and you would be cruel to attempt it.”

“I shall not force her into any marriage!” he flashed. “It may interest you to know that I am extremely attached to Cecilia, and that it is for that reason, and not for any whim of my own, that I will not countenance her union with a man of Fawnhope’s stamp! As for this glib notion you have, that by throwing them together you will make Cecilia tire of him, you were never more mistaken! So far from tiring of his company, Cecilia seizes every opportunity to be alone with him! She is even so lost to all sense of propriety as to make Addy her dupe! Only this afternoon Miss Wraxton came upon her in a secluded path in the Park, alone with Fawnhope, having shaken off the restraint of Addy’s presence. Clandestine meetings! Pretty behavior in Miss Rivenhall of Ombersley, upon my word!”

“My dear Charles,” said Sophy, with unimpaired calm, “you know very well that you are making that up.”

“I am doing no such thing! Do you imagine I would make up such a tale about my sister?”

“To own the truth, I think you would do anything when you are in one of your rages,” she said, smiling. “There is no secret about her having walked with Fawnhope, but the rest of it springs from your disordered temper. Now, do not say that Miss Wraxton told you it was so, because I am sure she would never have told you such fibs about Cecilia! Shaken Addy off, indeed! She was never out of Addy’s sight for a moment! Good gracious, don’t you know Cecilia better than to be accusing her of clandestine behavior? What a very vulgar expression to use, to be sure! Do stop making such a cake of yourself! Next you will be ranting at Cecy for having allowed a respectable young man whom she has known, I daresay, since they were both children, to walk a little way beside her, under the eyes of her governess!”

Again she came under that hard scrutiny. “Do you know this for a fact?” he asked, in an altered tone.

“Certainly I do, for Cecy told me just what had occurred. It seems that Miss Wraxton said something to Addy which distressed her very much — no doubt she misunderstood it, Miss Wraxton perhaps felt that Addy should have sent Augustus about his business, though how she could have done so I hardly know! But she has a great deal of sensibility, you know, and is readily upset.”

He looked annoyed, and said, “Addy is not to be blamed; Cecilia is out of her control, and if she should have told my mother of these meetings — well, she was never one to carry tales of any of us!”

She said coaxingly, “Do show her that you are not angry with her, Charles, and don’t mean to turn her off after all these years!”

“Turn her off?” he echoed, astonished. “What nonsense is this, pray?”

“Exactly what I said to her! Only she has taken it into her head that she is too old-fashioned in her ways to instruct the children, and seems to think she should be able to teach them the Italian tongue, and all sorts of refinement of the same nature.”

There was a slight pause. Mr. Rivenhall sat down on the other side of the fireplace, and rather absently began to pull Tina’s ears. He was frowning, and presently said, at his curtest, “I have nothing whatsoever to say in the education of my sisters. It is my mother’s business, and I cannot conceive how it could ever belong to anyone else.”

Sophy saw no need to labor this point and merely agreed with him. He cast her a glance out of narrowed, searching eyes, but she preserved her countenance. He said, “None of this has anything to do with what I have been saying to you. We did very well, Cousin, before you began to turn this house upside down! I shall be obliged to you if, in the future — ”

“Why, what in the world have I done else?” she exclaimed.

He found himself quite unable to put into words the things that she had done and was obliged to fall back upon her only tangible crime. “You brought that monkey here, for one thing!” he said. “No doubt with the kindest of intentions! But it is a most unsuitable animal to have bestowed on the children, and now, of course, they will think themselves ill used when it is got rid of, as got rid of it must be!”

Her eyes began to dance. “Charles, you are just trying to be disagreeable! You cannot feed Jacko on bits of apple, and teach him tricks, and warn the children to give him a blanket at night one day, and the next say he must be got rid of!”

He bit his lip, but the rueful grin would not be entirely suppressed. “Who told you I had done so?”

“Theodore. And also that you carried him down on your shoulder when Miss Wraxton came to call, to show him off to her. I must say, I think that was foolish of you, for you know she does not like pets; she told us so. I am sure there is no reason why she should, and to plague her with them is not kind in you. I never let Tina tease her, you know.”

“You are mistaken!” he said quickly. “She does not like monkeys, but it is only Lady Brinklow who dislikes dogs!”

“I expect she feels the same,” said Sophy, getting up and giving her skirts a shake. “One cannot help observing how often daughters resemble their mothers. Not in face, but in disposition. You must have remarked it!”

He seemed to be somewhat appalled by this. “No, I have not. I do not think you can be right!”

“Oh, yes, only consider Cecy! She will be just like dear Aunt Lizzie when she is older.” She saw that the truth of this statement was having its effect upon him and thought that she had given him enough to ponder for one day. She moved toward the door, saying, “I must go and change my dress.”

He got up abruptly. “No, wait!”

She looked over her shoulder. “Yes?”

He did not seem to know what he wished to say. “Nothing! It’s no matter! Next time you insist on buying horses you had better tell me what you want! To be employing strangers in the business is most undesirable!”

“But you assured me you would have no hand in it!” Sophy pointed out.

“Yes!” he said savagely. “Nothing pleases you more than to put me in the wrong, does it?”

She laughed, but went away without answering him. Upstairs she was pounced on by Cecilia, anxious to know what her fate was to be.

“If he speaks to you at all, it will be to. warn you against, Alfred Wraxton!” said Sophy, with a gurgle of amusement. “I told him exactly how that toad conducts himself and warned him to take care of you!”

“You did not!”

“I did. I have done an excellent day’s work, in the most unprincipled way! Oh, tell Addy Charles does not blame her in the least! He won’t say a word to my aunt about what happened, and I doubt whether he will say a word to you either. The only person he may say a word to is his precious Eugenia. I hope she will induce him to lose his temper!”