The Grand Sophy

Chapter 7

CECILIA WAS quite unable to believe that she was not to receive one of her brother’s scolds, and, when she later came unexpectedly face to face with him on a bend in the stair she gave a gasp and tried to stiffen her unruly knees. “Hallo!” he said, running an eye over her exquisite ball dress of gauze over satin. “You are very smart! Where are you off to?”

“Lady Sefton is calling after dinner to take Sophy and me to Almack’s,” she replied thankfully. “Mama does not find herself equal to it this evening.”

“Taking the shine out of them all?” he said. “You look very fine!”

“Why do you not accompany us?” she asked, plucking up courage.

“You would not spend the entire evening in Fawnhope’s pocket if I did,” he observed dryly.

She lifted her chin. “I should not under any circumstances spend the entire evening in any gentleman’s pocket!”

“No, I believe you would not,” he agreed mildly. “Not in my line, Cilly! Besides, I am engaged with a party of my own.”

His employment of her almost forgotten nursery name made her retort with much less constraint: “Daffy Club!”

He grinned. “No. Cribb’s Parlour!”

“How horrid you are! I suppose you are going to discuss the merits of a Bloomsbury Pet, or a Black Diamond, or — or — ”

“A Mayfair Marvel,” he supplied. “Nothing so interesting. I am going to blow a cloud with a few friends. And what do you know of Bloomsbury Pets, miss?”

She threw him a saucy look as she passed him on the way down the staircase. “Only what I have learnt from my brothers, Charles!”

He laughed, and let her go, but before she had reached the bottom of the flight, leaned over the banisters, and said imperatively, “Cecilia!” She looked up enquiringly. “Does that fellow Wraxton annoy you?”

She was nearly betrayed into losing her gravity. She replied, “Oh, well! I daresay I could snub him easily enough, if — well, if I chose to do so!”

“You need not be deterred by any consideration that I know of. I need scarcely say that if Eugenia knew of it she would be the first to condemn his behavior!”

“Of course,” she said.

Whether he spoke words of censure to Miss Wraxton no one was in a position to know. If he did, they must, Sophy thought, have been mild ones, for she did not appear to be in any way chastened. However, Sophy was granted one satisfaction. When next Miss Wraxton brought up the vexed question of Jacko, confiding to Lady Ombersley that she lived in dread of hearing that the monkey had bitten one of the children, Charles overheard her, and said impatiently, “Nonsense!”

“I believe a monkey’s bite is poisonous.”

“In that case I hope he may bite Theodore.” Lady Ombersley uttered a protest, but Theodore, already soundly cuffed for hitting a cricket ball from the Square garden straight through one of the windows of a neighboring house, merely grinned. Miss Wraxton, who did not feel that he had been adequately punished for such a piece of lawlessness, had already spoken her mind gravely on the subject. Charles had listened, but all he had said was, “Very true, but it was a capital hit. I saw it.” This disregard for her opinion rankled with Miss Wraxton, and she now, with the archness which she too often employed when talking to children, read Theodore a playful lecture, telling him that he was fortunate in not being obliged to forfeit his new pet in retribution of his crime. Beyond casting her a glance of resentment, he paid no heed, but Gertrude blurted out, “I believe you don’t like Jacko because Sophy gave him to us!”

The truth of this embarrassingly forthright pronouncement struck most of those present with blinding effect. Miss Wraxton’s cheeks flew two spots of color; Lady Ombersley gave a gasp, and Cecilia a stifled giggle. Only Charles and Sophy remained unmoved, Sophy not raising her eyes from the sewing she was engaged on, and Charles saying blightingly, “A stupid and an impertinent remark, Gertrude. You may return to the schoolroom, if you cannot conduct yourself more becomingly.”

Gertrude, who had arrived at the age when she cast herself into quite as much confusion as her elders, had already blushed hotly, and now fled in disorder from the room. Lady Ombersley began at once to talk of her projected expedition, with Sophy and Cecilia, to visit the Marquesa de Villacanas at Merton.

“One would not wish to be backward in any attention,” she said, “so I shall make the effort, and we must hope it will not rain, for that would make it very disagreeable. I wish you will go with us, Charles. Your uncle’s affianced wife, you know! I own, I do not care to drive out of town without a gentleman to go with me, though I am sure Radnor is perfectly to be trusted, and I should of course take my footmen.”

“My dear Mama, three able-bodied men should be enough to protect you on this hazardous journey!” he returned, in some amusement.

“Don’t tease Charles to go, Aunt Lizzie!” said Sophy, snipping off her thread. “Sir Vincent vows he will ride there with us, for he has not met Sancia since Madrid days, when her husband was still alive, and they gave splendid parties for all the English officers.”

There was a slight pause before Charles said, “If you wish it, Mama, I will certainly go with you. I can take my cousin in the curricle, and then you will not be crowded in your carriage.”

“Oh, I mean to go in my phaeton!” Sophy said unconcernedly.

“I thought it was your ambition to drive my grays?”

“Why, would you let me?”

“Perhaps.”

She laughed. “Oh, no, no! I have no belief in perhaps. Take Cecilia!”

“Cecilia would by far rather go in my mother’s landaulet. You may take the reins for part of the way.”

She said in a rallying tone, “This is something indeed! I am overcome, Charles, and fear you cannot be feeling quite the thing!”

“It will be a delightful expedition,” said Miss Wraxton brightly. “I am almost tempted, dear Lady Ombersley, to beg a place in your carriage!”

Lady Ombersley was too well bred to betray consternation, but she said a little doubtfully, “Well, my dear, of course — if Sophy does not think that there might be rather too many of us for the Marquesa! I should not wish to put her out in any way.”

“Not at all!” Sophy replied instantly. “It is not in your power to put Sancia out, dearest Aunt Lizzie! She will not bestir herself in the least, but will leave everything to her major-domo. Her is a Frenchman, and will be delighted to make arrangements for even so small a party as ours. I have only to write Sancia a letter, beg a frank from my uncle, and the thing is done — if only she will rouse herself sufficiently to convey my message to Gaston.

“How interesting it will be to meet a real Spanish lady!” remarked Miss Wraxton.

“For all the world as if Sancia had been a giraffe!” as Sophy afterward said to Cecilia.

“I wish I had known you meant to accompany my mother!” Mr. Rivenhall said, when he presently escorted Miss Wraxton to her carriage. “I should have offered you a place in my curricle. I cannot cry off now, but it is a bore. I should not have said I would go had I not heard that Talgarth was to be of the party. God knows I don’t care a jot whom my cousin marries, but I suppose, in the circumstances, we owe it to my uncle not to encourage that connection!”

“I am afraid her visit has brought extra cares upon you, my dear Charles. Much must be forgiven to a girl who has never known a mother’s care, but I confess I had hoped that under your mama’s guidance she would have tried to conform to English standards of propriety.”

“Not she!” he said. “It’s my belief she delights in keeping us all upon tenterhooks! There is no guessing what she will be at next, while the terms she stands on with every rattle who ever wore a scarlet coat — not that I care for that! But to be encouraging Talgarth to dangle after her is the outside of enough. All very well to say she can look after herself. I daresay she can, but if she is seen too much in his company, she will be talked about by every scandalmongering busybody in town!”

Miss Wraxton, treasuring up these hasty words, was unwise enough to repeat the gist of them to Sophy not forty-eight hours later. During the hour of the fashionable Promenade, when walking in the Park with her maid, she came upon Sophy’s phaeton, drawn up to allow Sophy to exchange a few words with the reprehensible Sir Vincent. He had one hand negligently on the step of the phaeton, and she was leaning a little down to say something that seemed to afford them both amusement. She saw Miss Wraxton, and nodded smilingly to her, but looked rather surprised when Eugenia came toward the phaeton, and addressed her.

“How do you do? So this is the carriage I hear so much of! At all events, you have a fine pair of horses, I see. You drive them tandem! You are to be congratulated. I do not think I would trust myself to do so.”

“You are acquainted with Sir Vincent Talgarth, I believe,” Sophy said.

Sir Vincent received the coldest of bows and the merest hint of a smile.

“Do you know,” said Miss Wraxton, looking up at Sophy, “I really think I must ask you to take me up beside you for one turn! I am quite jealous of your prowess, I assure you!”

Sophy signed to John to alight, saying politely, “Pray come with me, Miss Wraxton. I shall naturally be put on my mettle. Sir Vincent, we meet on Friday, then. You will call for us in Berkeley Square!”

Miss Wraxton, assisted by John Potton, mounted with credible grace into the awkwardly high carriage and sat down beside Sophy, disposing her skirt neatly, and acknowledging Tina’s presence by uttering, “Dear little doggie!” a form of address which made the little greyhound shiver and press closer to her mistress. “I am so happy to have this opportunity of speaking with you, Miss Stanton-Lacy. I had come to think it impossible to find you when you should be alone! You are acquainted with so many people.”

“Yes, am I not fortunate?”

“Indeed, yes!” agreed Miss Wraxton, honey sweet. “Though sometimes, dear Miss Stanton-Lacy, when one has a multitude of friends, one is inclined not to be as careful as one should be, perhaps. I wonder if I might venture to put you a little on your guard? In Paris and Vienna I am sure you would be able to tell me how I should go on, but in London I must be more at home than you.”

“Oh, I should never be so impertinent as to tell you how to go on anywhere!” Sophy declared.

“Well, perhaps it would not be necessary,” acknowledged Miss Wraxton graciously. “My mama has always been a most careful parent, and very strict in her choice of governesses for her daughters. I have felt so much compassion for you, dear Miss Stanton-Lacy, situated as you are. You must so often have felt the want of a mother!”

“Not at all. Don’t waste your compassion on me, I beg! I never wanted a mother while I had Sir Horace.”

“Gentlemen,” said Miss Wraxton, “are not the same.”

“An unarguable statement. How do you like my bays?”

Miss Wraxton laid a hand on her knee. “Allow me to speak without reserve!” she begged.

“Short of overturning you I can hardly prevent you,” Sophy replied. “But you had much better not, you know! I am very unbiddable, and if I were to lose my temper I might do what I should afterward be sorry for.”

“But I must speak!” Miss Wraxton said earnestly. “I owe it to your cousin!”

“Indeed! How is this?”

“You will understand that he does not like to mention the matter to you himself. He feels a certain delicacy — ”

“I thought you were talking of Charles!” interrupted Sophy. “Which cousin do you mean?”

“I am talking of Charles.”

“Nonsense! He has no delicate scruples.”

“Miss Stanton-Lacy, believe me, this air of levity is not becoming!” said Miss Wraxton, losing some of her sweetness. “I do not think you can be aware of what is expected of a woman of quality! Or — forgive me — how fatal it is to set up the backs of people and to give rise to such gossip as must be as painful to the Rivenhalls as I am persuaded it would be to you!”

“Now, what in heaven’s name comes next?” said Sophy, quite astonished. “You cannot be so Gothic as to suppose that because I drive a high-perch phaeton I give rise to gossip!”

“No, though one would have preferred to have seen you, in some vehicle less sporting. But the habits of easy intercourse you are on with so many military gentlemen — rattles in scarlet coats, as Charles divertingly phrases it — and in particular with that man I saw you conversing with a moment ago, make you appear a little fast, dear Miss Stanton-Lacy, which I know you would not wish! Sir Vincent’s company cannot give you consequence,” indeed, quite the reverse! A certain lady — of the first consideration — commented to me only today upon his attaching himself to you so particularly.”

“I expect she has an interest there herself,” observed Sophy. “He is a shocking flirt! And did my cousin Charles desire you to warn me against all these rattles?”

“He did not precisely desire me to do so,” answered Miss Wraxton scrupulously, “but he has spoken to me on this head, and I know what his sentiments are. You must know that Society will look indulgently upon mere pranks, such as driving off in Charles’s curricle, for Lady Ombersley’s protection must give you countenance.”

“How fortunate I am!” said Sophy. “But do you think you are wise to be seen in my company?”

“Now you are quizzing, Miss Stanton-Lacy!”

“No, I am only afraid that you may suffer for being seen in such a vehicle as this, and with so fast a female!”

“Hardly,” Miss Wraxton said gently. “Perhaps it may be thought a little odd in me, for I do not drive myself in London, but I think my character is sufficiently well established to make it possible for me to do, if I wished, what others might be imprudent to attempt.”

They were by this time within sight of the gate by Apsley House. “Now let me understand you!” begged Sophy. “If I were to do something outrageous while in your company, would your credit be good enough to carry me off?”

“Let us say my family’s credit, Miss Stanton-Lacy. I may venture to reply, without hesitation, yes.”

“Capital!” said Sophy briskly, and turned her horses toward the gate.

Miss Wraxton, losing some of her assurance, said sharply, “tray, what are you about?”

“I am going to do what I have been wanting to do ever I since I was told I must not, on any account!” replied Sophy. “It is with me a kind of Bluebeard’s chamber.” The phaeton swung through the gateway and turned sharply to the left, narrowly escaping collision with a ponderous lozenge coach.

Miss Wraxton uttered a stifled shriek and clutched the side of the phaeton. “Take care! Please pull up your horses at once! I do not wish to drive through the streets! Have you taken leave of your senses?”

“No, no, do not be afraid. I am quite sane. How glad I am that you chose to drive with me! Such an opportunity as this might never else have come in my way!”

“Miss Stanton-Lacy, I do not know what you mean, and again I must beg of you to pull up! I am not at all diverted by this prank, and I wish to, alight from your phaeton instantly!”

“What, and walk along Piccadilly unattended? You cannot mean it!”

“Stop!” commanded Miss Wraxton, in almost shrill accents. “On no account. Dear me, what a lot of traffic! Perhaps you had better not talk to me until I have weaved my way through all these carts and carriages.”

“For heaven’s sake, at least slacken your pace!” Miss Wraxton besought her, in the liveliest alarm.

“I will, when we come to the turning,” promised Sophy, passing between a waggon and a mail coach, with a matter of inches to spare. A moan from her companion caused her to add kindly, “There is no need to be in a fright. Sir Horace made me drive through a gateway until I could be trusted not even to scrape the varnish.”

They were now ascending the rise in Piccadilly. With a strong effort at self-control, Miss Wraxton demanded, “Tell me at once where you are taking me!”

“Down St. James’s Street,” replied Sophy coolly.

“What?” gasped Miss Wraxton, turning quite pale. “You will not do such a thing! No lady would be seen driving there! Amongst all the clubs, the object of every town saunterer! You cannot know what would be said of you! Stop this instant!”

“No, I want to see this Bow Window I hear so much of and all the dandies who sit there. How wretched that Mr. Brummel has been obliged to go abroad! Do you know, I never saw him in my life? Are you able to point out the various clubs to me? Shall we recognize White’s, or are there other houses with bow windows?”

“This is your notion of raillery, Miss Stanton-Lacy! You are not serious?”

“Yes, I am. Of course, I should not have dared to do it without you sitting beside, me to lend me credit, but you have assured me that your position is unassailable, and I see that I need have no scruple in gratifying my ambition. I daresay your consequence is great enough to make it quite a fashionable drive for ladies. We shall see!”

No argument that Miss Wraxton could advance, and she advanced many, had the power to move her. She drove on inexorably. Wild ideas of springing from the phaeton crossed Miss Wraxton’s mind, only to be rejected. It was too dangerous to be attempted. Had she been wearing a veil she might have pulled it over her face, and hoped to have escaped recognition, but her hat was a perfectly plain one and bore only a modest bow of ribbon. She had not even a parasol and was obliged to sit bolt upright, staring rigidly ahead of her the length of that disgraceful street. She did not utter a word until the horses swung round into Pall Mall, and then she said in a low voice, unsteady with rage and chagrin, “I will never forgive you! Never!”

“How uncharitable of you!” said Sophy lightly. “Shall I set you down now?”

“If you dare to abandon me in this locality — ”

“Very well, I will drive you to Berkeley Square. I do not know whether you will find my cousin at home at this hour, but at all events you may complain of me to my aunt, which I am sure you must be longing to do.”

“Do not speak to me!” said Miss Wraxton throbbingly. Sophy laughed.

Outside Ombersley House she broke the silence. “Can you get down without assistance? Having cast off my groom, together with your maid, I must drive the phaeton round to the stables myself.”

Miss Wraxton, vouchsafing no answer, climbed down, and walked up the steps to the front door.

It was half an hour later before Dassett admitted Sophy into the house. She found Mr. Rivenhall at the very moment coming down the stairs, and said at once, “Ah, so you were at home! I am so glad!”

He was looking very stern, and replied in a level tone, “Will you come into the library for a few minutes?”

She accompanied him there and began to drag off her driving gloves with hands that were not quite steady. Her eyes were still sparkling, and a not unbecoming flush mantled her cheeks. “Cousin, what, in God’s name, possessed you?” demanded Mr. Rivenhall.

“Oh, has not Miss Wraxton told you? I have realized an ambition!”

“You must be mad! Don’t you know how improper it was of you to do such a thing?”

“Yes, indeed I knew, and should never have dared to do it without the protection of Miss Wraxton’s presence! Do not look so dismayed! She assured me that even though I did something outrageous in her company her credit was good enough to carry me off! Surely you cannot doubt it!”

“Sophy, she cannot have said such a thing!”

She shrugged, and turned away. “No? Have it as you will!”

“What had occurred? What reason had you for causing her such mortification?”

“I will leave Miss Wraxton to tell you what she chooses. I have said too much already. I do not like tale bearers, and will not sink to that level! My actions are no concern of yours, Cousin Charles, and even less are they Miss Wraxton’s.”

“What you have just done is very much her concern!”

“True. I stand corrected.”

“It is also my concern to see that you come to no harm while you are a guest in this house. Such conduct as you indulged in this afternoon might do you a great deal of harm, let me tell you!”

“My dear Charles, I am past praying for, as intimate as I am with rakes and rattles!” she flashed.

He stiffened. “Who said that?”

“You, I understand, but you had too much delicacy to say it to my face. You should have known better than to think I should listen meekly to Miss Wraxton, however!”

“And you should know better than to imagine that I would deliver my strictures through Miss Wraxton, or anyone else!”

She lifted a hand to her cheek, and he saw it was to dash away a teardrop. “Oh, be quiet! Cannot you see that I am too angry to talk with any moderation? My wretched tongue! But though you did not desire Miss Wraxton to scold me for you, you did discuss me with her, did you not?”

“Whatever I may have said I did not mean to be repeated. It was, however, extremely improper of me to have criticized you to Miss Wraxton. I beg your pardon!”

She pulled out her handkerchief from the sleeve of her habit and blew her nose. Her flush died down; she said ruefully, “Now I am disarmed. How provoking of you! Why could you not have flown into one of your rages? You are so disobliging! Was it so very bad to have driven down St. James’s Street?”

“You knew it was, for Miss Wraxton told you so. You have caused her a great deal of distress, Sophy.”

“Oh, dear! I do such dreadful things when I lose my temper! Very well, it was wrong in me — very wrong! Must I beg her pardon?”

“You must see that you owe her an apology. If anything she may have said to you angered you, at least she had no such intention. She meant nothing but kindness, and is very much upset by the outcome. Mine is the blame, for having led her to suppose that I wished her to take you to task.”

She smiled. “That’s handsome of you, Charles! I am sorry. I have created an uncomfortable situation. Where is Miss Wraxton? In the drawing room? Take me up to her, then, and I will do what I may to mend things!”

“Thank you,” he said, opening the door for her.

Miss Wraxton was found to have recovered from her agitation and to be glancing through the pages of the Gentleman’s Magazine. She glanced coldly at Sophy, and lowered her eyes again to the periodical. Sophy walked across the room, saying in her frank way: “Will you forgive me? Indeed, I beg your pardon, and am very sorry! It was shocking conduct!”

“So shocking, Miss Stanton-Lacy, that I prefer not to speak of it.”

“If that means that you will try to forget it, I shall be very grateful to you.”

“Certainly I shall do so.”

“Thank you!” Sophy said. “You are very kind!”

She turned and went quickly to the door. Mr. Rivenhall was holding it, and detained her for a moment, saying in a much warmer voice than she had yet heard him use, “If anyone should mention the affair to me, I shall say that having bought those bays of yours against my advice you were well served, for they got away with you!”

She smiled, but said, “I wish you will do what you can to undo any harm I may have caused.”

“My dear girl, don’t refine too much upon it. There is no need, I assure you.”

She cast him a look of gratitude, and left the room.

“You were not very generous, were you, Eugenia?” said Mr. Rivenhall.

“I consider her behavior unpardonable.”

“It is unnecessary to tell me so; you made it plain enough that you thought so.”

Her bosom swelled. “I did not think to hear you take her part against me, Charles!”

“I have not done so, but the fault was not all hers. You had no right to take her to task, Eugenia, much less to repeat whatever ill-considered words I may have uttered! I am not surprised she was so angry. I have a temper myself!”

“You do not seem to consider the agony of mortification I have been obliged to suffer! What Mama would say if she knew — ”

“Oh, enough, enough!” he said impatiently. “You make too much of it! Let us, for heaven’s sake, forget it!”

She was offended, but she saw that to persist would lower her in his eyes. It annoyed her to think that she had shown to less advantage than Sophy in the little scene that had been enacted. She forced herself to smile, and say magniloquently, “You are right. I have allowed myself to be too much moved. Please assure your cousin that I shall not think of the matter again!”

She had her reward, for he grasped her hand at once, saying, “That is more like you! I knew I could not be mistaken in you!”