Cotillion (11 page)

By the time that Kitty and Mr. Standen (no early riser)

presented themselves, Mr. Penicuik had consumed a sustaining repast, and was seated in a winged chair before the fire in his dressing-room, a shawl over his knees and another round his shoulders. His sagging form and apparently palsied hand informed the initiated that his role this morning was one of senile decay; but there was nothing very senile in the needle-sharp glance he cast at his ward, as she approached his chair.

“Well, my dear!” he said. “They tell me I’m to wish you happy. Hey?”

“If you please, sir,” responded Kitty, dutifully bending to kiss his cheek.

“I
do
wish you happy!” said Mr. Penicuik, with strong resolution. He turned his penetrating eyes towards Freddy, but instantly shut them, his countenance contorted, possibly, by a twinge of gout. “I felicitate you, Frederick!” he said. He opened his eyes again, took another look at the successful suitor, and averted them with a visible shudder. But this was unfair: the Honourable Frederick had done justice to the occasion by arranging his neck-tie in the style known as the
trône d’amour
, a mode as difficult to achieve as it was beautiful to behold. Any one of a score or more aspirants to fashion would have been glad to have studied its intricacies, and several dashing blades would have had no hesitation in demanding the name of the genius who had designed his waistcoat. It was not so with Mr. Penicuik. He reached out a trembling hand for his snuff-box, recruited his forces with a large pinch of Nut Brown, sneezed violently, shut the box with a snap, and said with all the air of one who had made up his mind to perform a painful duty: “Very well! You have my blessing!”

Kitty looked at her swain in an expectant way, but Freddy, quite unnerved by the basilisk glance he had encountered, forgot his carefully conned part, and merely said that he was very much obliged. Kitty, realizing that little could be hoped for from that quarter, made the best of it, and said brightly: “Yes, sir, and Freddy wishes me to go to Mount Street, to be formally presented to his parents, if you should not object to it.”

Recalled to a sense of his shortcoming, Freddy made hasty amends. “Very likely to have forgotten her,” he explained. “Good thing to remind them!”

“Imbecile!” said Mr. Penicuik. His gaze rested thoughtfully on Kitty’s face. There was a tense pause. “London, eh?” he said at last. “What do you mean to do there, miss?”

Kitty’s heart began to thump. “If—if Lady Legerwood should be so obliging as to invite me, sir, I—I shall do whatever she desires, of course!” she produced.

“Don’t tell me!” said Mr. Penicuik. “Go raking about town, that’s what you want to do!” He turned his eyes upon Freddy. “I suppose Emma—your mother—goes to all the swell places? Almack’s—box at the Opera—Carlton House parties? She was dressed as fine as fivepence the last time I saw her: I daresay fifty pounds wouldn’t have paid for what she had on her back! Not that it’s any concern of mine if your father chooses to let her squander a fortune on trumpery!”

“No,” said Freddy.

“What do you mean,
No
?” demanded Mr. Penicuik, glaring at him.

“No concern of yours,” said Freddy, with unimpaired amiability. “What’s more, fifty pounds wouldn’t have paid for her dress, let alone her hat, and her gloves, and the rest of it. Dash it, sir, m’mother don’t buy made-up clothes in Cranbourne Alley! Never heard of such a thing!”

Mr. Penicuik’s hand clenched on his ebony stick, and his demeanour was for a moment so alarming that Kitty feared her betrothed might flee from his presence. But as Mr. Standen had just then caught sight of a piece of fluff, adhering to the lapel of his riding-coat, and was carefully removing it, he remained entirely unconscious of the danger he stood in. By the time he had leisure to turn his attention again to his great-uncle, Mr. Penicuik had regained control over his emotions, and merely said: “Plump in the pocket, your father!”

“Oh, very!” agreed Freddy.

Mr. Penicuik regarded him with narrowed eyes. “Suppose I let Kitty go to London?” he said abruptly. “Think your mother will take her to the
ton
parties?”

“Bound to,” said Freddy reflectively. “Only parties my mother goes to.”

“H’m!” grunted Mr. Penicuik, taking another pinch of snuff. He gave a sudden cackle of laughter. “Ay, you’re a sly puss!” he told Miss Charing. “Damme, I’ll let you go!” His mirth ceased; a look of anguish entered his face; he said, with a moan: “But you’ll be wanting to waste my money on finery!”

“No, no!” faltered Kitty, tightly clasping her hands. “Only—only a
very
little, sir, I promise!”

“I can’t afford it!” said Mr. Penicuik, relapsing into decrepitude. “You’ll ruin me!”

“You
did
say I should have a hundred pounds for my bride-clothes!” Kitty reminded him desperately.

He shook his head sadly. “You’d want more. Peacocking about the town!
I
know!”

“No, indeed I should not!” she assured him.

“Yes, you would,” interrupted Freddy. “Told you so last night!”

“Oh, Freddy, do pray hold your tongue!”

“Dashed if I will!” said Freddy, feeling himself to be on firm ground. “You can’t buy town rig for a hundred pounds: shouldn’t think it would purchase more than one gown, myself.”

“
What
?” screamed Mr. Penicuik.

“Well, say a couple!” conceded Freddy, willing to stretch a point.

“Oh, Uncle Matthew, pray don’t heed him!” begged Kitty.

Perceiving that he had dealt his aged relative a severe blow, Freddy said kindly: “No need to put yourself about, sir: daresay m’mother will buy Kit some toggery. Always ready to sport the blunt!”

This turned out to be a lucky suggestion, for however much he disliked spending money Mr. Penicuik disliked still more to be thought impecunious. He instantly raised his drooping head, and withered Freddy with a few well-chosen words. After that, stifling another heavy groan, he desired Kitty to fetch him the box she would find in the cupboard beside his bed. This being done, he produced a key, and unlocked the case. Taking care that neither she nor Freddy should obtain a glimpse into the interesting box, he searched in it, and presently produced a roll of bills, tied up with tape. He regarded it wistfully for a moment, and then thrust it into Kitty’s hand, turning away his head, and moaning: “Take it! Put it up safely, girl! Oh dear, oh dear! Don’t let me see it again! To think of all that money squandered!”

Kitty stuffed the roll into her pocket, terrified lest his feelings should overcome him and he should change his mind. She tried fittingly to express her gratitude, but he cut her short, saying that no one need accuse him of stinting her. Hardly had he spoken the words than a fresh nightmare presented itself to him, and for some agonizing minutes it seemed as though the whole scheme must fail. The problem of Kitty’s transport to London appeared to be insoluble. Her suggestion that she should travel on the stage was rejected, for, as Mr. Penicuik pointed out, she had no maid to accompany her. He added that he had no doubt she expected him to engage one for her, but as such an idea had never so much as crossed her mind she was easily able to assuage his indignation. She ventured to suggest next that one of the chambermaids might go to London with her, but the thought of being obliged to pay this damsel’s coach-fare to London and back again cast him into renewed fury. A further, and most unwise, suggestion that Kitty should hire a post-chaise and pay for it with some of the money he had given her, shocked him so much that he seemed much inclined to take the bills back again. After a painful interlude, during which he reckoned up the extortionate charges of post-boys, the exact number of changes which would be necessary on the journey, and every other expense she might be expected to incur, Freddy, who was getting bored, intervened with a very simple solution. “Take her to town with me,” he said.

This offer, which, as he instantly perceived, relieved him of all the expense of his ward’s journey, found instant favour with Mr. Penicuik; and he regarded Freddy with real if brief approval. It was Kitty who demurred. She could not but feel that Lady Legerwood might wish to receive notice of the impending visit—even of her eldest son’s betrothal. Both Freddy and Mr. Penicuik thought this frivolous, Mr. Penicuik being outraged by the suggestion that his niece might not welcome any ward of his into her family; and Freddy maintaining that the thing was more likely to come off right if his parents were taken by storm than if they were allowed time for reflection.

This speech caused Mr. Penicuik to direct one of his penetrating looks at him; but he said nothing, merely inhaling another pinch of snuff, and glancing sideways at Kitty. She still could not like the scheme, but as her fond guardian informed her that if she did not choose to go to London with Freddy she should not go at all, she was obliged to yield.

Mr. Penicuik then relapsed into profound thought, but just as the engaged couple, having exchanged speaking looks, were about to leave him, he emerged from his abstraction, and said: “No need to puff it off in the newspapers yet!”

Freddy, who had no desire to advertize his engagement, accepted this with relief unmarred by any ulterior thought. Kitty, her mind more enquiring than his, looked suspiciously at Mr. Penicuik, and demanded bluntly: “Why should we not, Uncle Matthew?”

“Never mind why you should not!” said Mr. Penicuik irascibly. “Good God, girl, d’ye take me for a fool? Think I don’t know you’re playing deep?” He observed, with satisfaction, the flush that coloured his ward’s cheeks, and chuckled. “You’re a good girl!” he approved. “I daresay, if you were tricked out in all manner of finery, you wouldn’t look so ill, either. But, mind! I won’t be left with that Fish for more than a month!”

On which valedictory utterance he dismissed his visitors, with the parting adjuration to make speedy preparations for their journey, because he had been put to enough expense already without having to provide dinner for Freddy that day.

Once out of earshot, Kitty clasped Freddy’s arm, and said, in a rush of gratitude: “Oh, Freddy, how can I thank you sufficiently? I hope you may not dislike it excessively!”

“No, no!” said Freddy, always the soul of courtesy. “Thing was, thought it was time to give the old hunks the goby! Never met such a cheese-paring fellow in all my life!”

Chapter VI

Since Miss Charing’s wardrobe was not extensive, the task of packing it was speedily accomplished, and it was not long after noon when the betrothed pair set forward upon the journey to London. Miss Charing’s almost dizzy delight at having so easily won her guardian’s consent to the visit was marred only by her fear that her hostess might not feel an equal degree of pleasure at the treat in store; and by the lachrymose conduct of Miss Fishguard, who wept without restraint while she helped her charge to pack, and asserted that she did not know what was to become of her, or how she was to look after Mr. Penicuik to his satisfaction. It did not console her to be reminded that no one had ever succeeded in doing this; and the prospect of being separated from Kitty for a month so wrought upon her sensibility that she suddenly declaimed, between sobs: “ ‘For all that pleased in wood or lawn, While peace possessed these silent bowers, Her animating smile withdrawn, Has lost its beauty and its powers!’ ”

Kitty, always of a more practical turn of mind than her governess, wrinkled her brow at this, and said: “Well, but it is so horridly damp and cold at this season that the woods and lawns don’t please at all, Fish! And peace cannot possess Arnside when Uncle Matthew’s gout is so painful!”

“Sometimes, Kitty,” said Miss Fishguard tragically, “I wonder at you! Is ‘the pang which parts us from our weeping friends’ unknown to you?”

This reproach made Kitty feel so guilty that for the first stage of the journey her spirits were subdued, and she replied in monosyllables to such remarks as her companion addressed to her. “Not feeling quite the thing?” enquired Freddy kindly.

“Oh, yes, but I feel a
wretch
, Freddy!” she confided. “Poor Fish asked me if I did not feel a pang at parting from her, and I do not!”

“I should rather think you wouldn’t!” said Freddy, without hesitation. “Can’t make the woman out at all, myself. Know what she said to me this morning? Asked me if I’d slept well, and when I told her that it beat me how anyone could sleep at all, with a dashed lot of cockerels crowing their heads off, she said that rural sounds exhilarate the spirit, and do something or other to languid nature!”

“Cowper,” said Kitty, in a depressed tone. “ ‘Restore the tone of languid nature.’ “

“Well, it’s a bag of moonshine!” said Freddy. “What’s more, I always thought so! Often hear of fellows ruralizing— going into the country on a repairing lease, y’know—but I never could see that it did ‘em a particle of good. Well, if they’re kept awake the better part of the night by a lot of cockerels, stands to reason it couldn’t! It’s my belief, Kit, the woman’s touched in her upper works.”

“No, she is merely addicted to poetry,” explained Kitty.

“Well, that just shows you!” said Mr. Standen reasonably. He abandoned the topic for one of more immediate importance. “How much did the old hunks give you in that roll?” “Oh, Freddy!” exclaimed Kitty, awed. “Two hundred and fifty pounds! I am sure I can never spend the half of it! It is the greatest anxiety to me! I have it safe here in my reticule, but only think if I should chance to be robbed!” She untied the strings of this receptacle, and dragged out the roll. “Pray, will you take care of it for me?” she begged.