Lady of Quality Read online

  'No – oh, no!' she said. 'I too like pound dealing, and I will be frank with you. I don't know if you can understand – or think that I must be indulging a distempered freak – but the truth is that my mind is all chaos!' She got up jerkily, and again pressed her hands to her cheeks, saying with an uncertain little laugh: 'I beg your pardon! I must sound detestably missish!'

  'I think I do understand. You have persuaded yourself into the belief that you prefer to live alone – and that, if the alternative was to live with your brother and sister-in-law, is perfectly understandable. You have grown so much accustomed to your single state that to change it seems to you unthinkable. But you are thinking of it! That's why your mind is all chaos. If you felt that to continue to live alone would be infinitely preferable to living with me, you would have refused to marry me without an instant's hesitation. Was your mind thrown into chaos when Beckenham proposed to you? Of course it wasn't! You regard him with indifference. But you don't regard me with indifference! I've taken you by surprise, and I am threatening to turn your beautifully ordered life upside-down, and you don't know whether you would like it or loathe it.'

  'Yes,' she said gratefully. 'You do understand! It's true that I don't regard you with indifference, but it is such a big step to take – such an important step – that you must grant me a little time to think it over carefully before I answer you. Don't – don't press me to answer you now! Pray do not!'

  'No, I won't press you,' he said, unexpectedly gentle. He took her hands, and smiled into her eyes. 'Don't look so fussed and bewildered, you absurd child! And don't turn me into a Bluebeard while I am away! I have a damnably quick temper, I have no agreeable talents, and very little regard for the proprieties, but I'm not an ogre, I assure you!' His clasp on her hands tightened; he raised them to his lips, kissed them, and released them, and went out of the room without another word.

  Twelve

  It was long before Miss Wychwood was able to regain some measure of composure, and longer still before she could try to unravel the tangle of her thoughts. Never before had she been confronted with any question concerned with her life which she had experienced the least difficulty in answering, and it vexed her beyond bearing that a proposal from Mr Carleton should have so disastrously overset the balance of her mind as to have made it impossible for her to consider it with the calm judgment on which she had hitherto prided herself. The hardest question which had confronted her had been whether or not to remove from Twynham, and to carve a life for herself; but when she recalled what had been her sentiments on this occasion she knew that the only difficulty which had then made her hesitate had been a natural reluctance either to offend her brother, or to wound his gentle spouse. She had never had a doubt of her own sentiments, nor of the wisdom of her ultimate decision. Nor had she experienced the slightest heart burning when she had refused the many offers of marriage which had been made to her, though several of them had been (as she remembered, with an inward but reprehensibly saucy smile) extremely flattering. Endowed as she was with beauty, an impeccable lineage, and a handsome fortune, she had taken the ton by storm in her very first Season, and might, at this moment, have been married to the heir to a dukedom had she been content to marry for the sake of a great position, and to have let love go by the board. But she had not been so content, and she had never regretted her decision to refuse the young Marquis's proposal. Geoffrey, of course, had been shocked beyond measure, and had prophesied that she would end her days an old maid. That dismal prospect had not at all dismayed her: she was very sure that, comfortably circumstanced as she was, it would be far better to remain single than to marry a man for whom she felt nothing more than a mild liking. She was still sure of it, but she was well aware that there was nothing mild about her feeling for Mr Carleton. No man had ever before held such power to sway her emotions from one extreme to another, making her feel at one moment that she hated him, and at the next that she liked him much too well for her peace of mind. It was easy enough to understand why she should so often hate him; nearly impossible to know what it was in him that made her feel that if he were to go out of it her life would become a blank. Trying to solve this mystery, she recalled that he had told her not to ask him why he loved her, because he didn't know; and she wondered if that was the meaning of love: one might fall in love with a beautiful face, but that was a fleeting emotion: something more was needed to inspire one with an enduring love, some mysterious force which forged a strong link between two kindred spirits. She was conscious of feeling such a link, and could not doubt that Mr Carleton felt it too, but why it should exist between them she was wholly unable to discover. They were for ever coming to cuffs, and surely kindred spirits didn't quarrel? Surely there ought never to be any differences of opinion between them? No sooner had she put this question to herself than she thought, involuntarily: 'How very dull it would be!' It made her laugh softly to picture herself and Mr Carleton living together in perfect agreement, and suddenly it occurred to her that it would make him laugh too – if it didn't make him say How mawkish! which, in all probability it would.

  She had begged him not to demand an answer from her until she had had time to think the matter over; she had told him that the step he was asking her to take was too big a one to be taken without careful consideration. It was true, but even as she had said it the realization had darted into her head that it was not the nature of her sentiments which required consideration, but other and more worldly matters which would arise if she married Mr Carleton. They might be relatively unimportant, but they were, in their degree, of some importance. Foremost amongst them was the knowledge that her brother would be most violently opposed to such a marriage. He would do all that lay within his power to dissuade her from marrying a man whom he not only disliked, but of whom he unequivocally disapproved. He would not succeed, but it was possible that he might sever all con nection between his household and hers; and that was a prospect she found it hard to face. She had set up for herself because she had found that he and she were continually chafing one another, but she had been careful to do so without wounding him by betraying the real cause of her removal from Twynham. They were unable to live in amity together, but they were bound by ties of family affection, and although these might be loose they existed, and she knew that it would give her great pain if they were to be broken. One could not lightly cut oneself off from one's home and one's family. And if Geoffrey did cast her off, it must inevitably redound to Mr Carleton's discredit, and that was a consequence she would find it very hard to bear.

  Then there was the question of being obliged to give up her freedom, to turn her life upside-down, as he had himself said, to submit to his judgment, and how was she to know that he would not prove to be a domestic tyrant? He was certainly of an autocratic disposition. But then she remembered how well (and how unexpectedly) he had understood her jumbled thoughts, and with what sympathetic compassion he had refrained from pressing her to give him an answer, and she decided that however autocratically he might express himself he was no tyrant.

  By this time she had reached the point where she was forced to own that she was in love with Mr Carleton, but for no discoverable reason. She thought, disgustedly, that she was behaving like a silly schoolgirl, and that it was a very good thing that he was going away. Probably she would find that she went on quite happily without him, in which case it would be a sure sign that she was not in love, but merely infatuated. So the wisest thing she could do would be to put him out of her mind. After which, she continued to think about him until Jurby came in to tell her severely that it wanted only ten minutes till dinner-time, and if she didn't come up to change her dress immediately she would be late. 'Which is not like you, Miss Annis! A full half-hour have I been waiting for you!'

  Miss Wychwood said guiltily that she had been too busy to notice the time, thrust her accounts, on which she had done no work at all, into a drawer, and meekly went upstairs with her stern henchwoman. An attempt to dissuade Jurby from brus
hing her glowing locks, and pinning them up afresh, failed. 'I have my pride to consider, miss, and permit you to go down with your hair looking as though you had come backwards through a bush I will not do!' said Jurby.

  So it was ten minutes after the dinner-bell had sounded before Miss Wychwood hurried down to the drawing-room, where she found her guests patiently awaiting her. She apologized, saying, with her lovely smile: 'I do beg your pardon, Amabel! So rag-mannered of me to have kept you waiting! I have been busy all the afternoon, and never noticed how the time was slipping by. I've been making up my accounts, and an errant shilling persisted in going astray!'

  'Oh, and I interrupted you, didn't I, dear Annis?' exclaimed Miss Farlow remorsefully. 'I am sure it is no wonder that you should have lost count of your shillings! The only wonder is that you should be able to count them up at all, for I can never do so! I daresay it would divert you excessively if I were to tell you of the ridiculous mistakes I make in my addition. Not but what you had already been interrupted when I burst in on you, which, I hope you know me well enough to believe, I would never have done if I had known you had a visitor with you!'

  'Yes, Mr Carleton called,' replied Miss Wychwood smoothly. 'Good-evening, Ninian!'

  Young Mr Elmore was wearing for the first time a new and beautiful pair of Hessians which had been made for him by the first bootmaker in Bath, and he could not resist the urge to draw attention to their shining magnificence, which he did by begging his hostess to forgive him for coming to dine with her in boots. 'Which is not at all the thing, of course, but I thought you would excuse it, because I am engaged with a party of friends this evening, and it is not a dress-party. No ladies, I mean, or dancing, or anything of that sort!'

  'I see!' said Miss Wychwood, twinkling at him. 'Just a few choice spirits! Well, don't get taken up by the Watch!'

  He grinned, and blushed. 'No, no, nothing of that nature!' he assured her. 'Only a – a small jollification, ma'am!'

  'Whatever brought my uncle here?' wondered Lucilla. 'I thought I saw you talking to him in the Pump Room, ma'am!'

  'Very true: you did!' responded Miss Wychwood. 'But as he didn't then know that he would be obliged to go up to London tomorrow, for a few days, he came to inform us of it. He was sorry not to find you at home, but I promised to make his apologies to you!'

  Lucilla's eyes widened in amazement. 'Well! ' she gasped. 'Whoever heard of his being so civil?' She added shrewdly, and with a mischievous look: 'If he really did say he was sorry not to find me at home, it was a great fib, for he never shows the least wish to see me, and I think it is you he always wished to see!'

  'For the pleasure of picking quarrels with me, no doubt!' retorted Miss Wychwood, laughing. 'Shall we go down to dinner now, Amabel?'

  Lady Wychwood had looked up quickly at Lucilla's saucy speech, as though struck by a sudden and by no means agreeable suspicion, and Annis was aware that her eyes were fixed on her face. For perhaps the only time in her life she was thankful to Miss Farlow for interrupting, even though Miss Farlow did so merely because she seldom missed an opportunity to give Lucilla a set-down. She said sharply: 'A very odd thing it would be in your uncle if he were to leave Bath without taking leave of dear Miss Wychwood, to whom he has so much cause to be grateful! I am sure it isn't wonderful that he should wish rather to see her than you, Miss Carleton, for gentlemen find girls only just out of the schoolroom excessively boring! Indeed, at your age I should never have expected a gentleman to wish to see me!'

  Lucilla's eyes flashed, and she replied swiftly: 'How fortunate!'

  Ninian uttered a choking sound, which he turned into a very unconvincing cough; and Lady Wychwood rose, and said with gentle dignity: 'Yes, do let us go down, dearest, or we shall be in disgrace with your cook. Cooks always look black if one keeps dinner waiting, and one cannot blame them, for it must be dreadfully provoking to have one's work spoilt!'

  She then recounted a mildly amusing story about a French cook she had once employed, and Annis, grateful to her for bridging the awkward gap, laughed, and led her on to tell a few more anecdotes. Behind them, on the staircase, came Miss Farlow, muttering to herself. Not much of what she said reached Annis's ears, but such overheard scraps as 'pert minx . . . grossly indulged . . . shocking manners' were enough to give her fair warning that she would be forced to listen to Miss Farlow's outraged complaints before the evening was out.

  Lucilla and Ninian brought up the rear. Ninian whispered: 'You abominable little gypsy! You dashed nearly had me in whoops!'

  Lucilla jerked up an impatient shoulder, saying under her breath that she didn't care; but at the foot of the stairs she caught up with Annis, who was standing aside to allow Lady Wychwood to precede her into the dining-room, and detained her by tugging a fold of her dress, and said in her ear, as Miss Farlow, in obedience to a sign from Annis, followed Lady Wychwood: 'I'm sorry! I know I ought not to have said it! Don't say I must beg her pardon, because I won't!'

  Annis smiled, but held up an admonitory finger, murmuring: 'No, very well, but don't do it again!'

  Lucilla followed her into the room in a chastened mood, and for the better part of the meal remained largely silent. But by the time the second course was placed on the table a chance remark made by Ninian put her in mind of something she wanted to ask Annis, and she said impetuously: 'Oh, Miss Wychwood, will you take me to the Dress Ball at the Lower Rooms on Friday?'

  'Not without your uncle's permission, my dear – and I doubt very much if he would give it.'

  'But he isn't here, so how can I ask him if I may go?' objected Lucilla. 'Besides, even if he was here he would be bound to say that you must be the only judge of what is proper for me to do!'

  'Oh, no, not a bit of it! He keeps a stricter watch over you than you think!'

  'Well, he needn't know anything about it!' said Lucilla, with something very like a pout.

  'I hope you are not suggesting that I should try to conceal from him that I had allowed you to do anything of which I am very certain he would disapprove!' said Miss Wychwood. 'You must remember that he has entrusted you to my care! How very shocking it would be if I were to prove myself unworthy of his trust! You are trying to get me into a scrape, and I beg you won't!'

  'No, but I don't see why I shouldn't go to the Dress Ball,' argued Lucilla. 'I have been to several private balls, so why may I not attend a public one?'

  'I daresay it does seem rather hard to you,' said Miss Wychwood sympathetically, 'but there is a difference between the private parties you've been to and a public ball, believe me! The private parties you've attended have been informal hops, not balls; and have been got up for the entertainment of girls, like yourself, who are not yet out. Don't eat me! but I am afraid that if your uncle asked me if it would be proper for you to go to the Friday Dress Ball I should be obliged to say that I didn't think it would be at all the thing for a girl not yet out.'

  'No, indeed!' struck in Miss Farlow. 'A very off appearance it would present! In my young days –'

  Miss Wychwood flickered a warning glance at Lucilla, and silenced her cousin by saying: 'You sound just like my Aunt Augusta, Maria! That is what she was used to say whenever I wanted to do something she disapproved of. And I strongly suspect that it was said to her, and to you too, in your young days, and that you found it quite as provoking as I did!'

  Miss Farlow opened her mouth to argue this point, but shut it again as she encountered a quelling look from Miss Wychwood which she dared not ignore. Lucilla was not so easily silenced, and continued to harp on the subject until Miss Wychwood lost patience, and said: 'That's enough, child! I daresay Harry Beckenham will be disappointed not to see you at the ball, but he will certainly not be surprised.'

  'Yes, he will be!' Lucilla said, firing up. 'I told him I should be there, when he asked me, because I never dreamed you wouldn't take me –'

  'Oh, do cut line!' interrupted Ninian impatiently. 'You're getting to be a regular jaw-me-dead, Lucy!'

  Flushing
scarlet, Lucilla prepared to give battle, but Miss Wychwood applied an effective damper by saying that if they wished to quarrel they might do so in the breakfast-parlour, but not at the dinner-table. Ninian, conscience-stricken, instantly begged pardon; but Lucilla was too angry to follow his example. However, she did not venture to pursue the quarrel, so Miss Wychwood was satisfied.

  Ninian took his leave as soon as dinner came to an end; and Lucilla, having maintained what she believed to be a dignified silence, but which bore a strong resemblance to a fit of childish sulks, until she found that no one was paying the least attention to her, took herself off to bed before the tea-tray was brought in.

  'Very pretty behaviour, upon my word!' said Miss Farlow, with an irritating titter. 'Of course, I knew how it would be from the moment I set eyes on her! I said at the start –'

  'You have said more than enough already, Maria!' interrupted Miss Wychwood. 'I hold you entirely to blame for Lucilla's miftiness, and wasn't surprised that she lost her temper, and gave you a back-answer! No, don't start again, for I haven't the patience to listen to you!'