Cotillion (15 page)

So shortly after ten o’clock, just as Miss Charing was climbing into bed after a quiet evening spent in poring over the fashion-plates in various periodicals, Mr. Standen, beautiful to behold in knee-breeches and striped stockings, a blue coat with very long tails, a white waistcoat, and a neckcloth which caused an acquaintance almost to swoon with envy, sauntered into the vestibule at Almack’s Assembly Rooms. He handed his hat and his coat to an attendant lackey, gave a couple of twitches to his wrist-bands and favoured the great Mr. Willis with a nod.

Mr. Willis, according him the bow due to a Pink of the Ton, would not have dreamed of asking to see his voucher. Quite surprising persons might find themselves excluded from Almack’s, but not the most capricious of its patronesses would have entertained for a moment the thought of excluding Mr. Standen. He was neither witty nor handsome; his disposition was retiring; and although he might be seen at any social gathering, he never (except by the excellence of his tailoring) drew attention to himself. Not for Mr. Standen, the tricks and eccentricities of gentlemen seeking notoriety! He was quite a pretty whip, but no one had ever seen him take a fly off the leader’s ear, or heard of his breaking a record in a racing-curricle; he rode well to hounds, without earning the title of neck-or-nothing; and while he sometimes practised single-stick in Jackson’s Boxing Saloon, or tossed oft a third of daffy in Cribb’s Parlour, he was no Corinthian. Indeed, so far from aspiring to pop in a hit over Jackson’s guard, or to stand up for any number of rounds with some Pet of the Fancy, he would have disliked either experience very much indeed. Nor could anyone have thought him an ideal cavaliere-servente, for he was too inarticulate to pay charming compliments, and had never been known to indulge in the mildest flirtation. But a numerous circle of male acquaintances held him in considerable affection, and with the ladies he was a prime favourite. The most sought— after beauty was pleased to stand up with so graceful a dancer; any lady desirous of redecorating her drawing-room was anxious for his advice; no hostess considered her invitation-list complete without his name. His presence did not, of course, confer on a party the distinction that Mr. Brummell’s did, but he was a much more agreeable guest, never arriving long after he had been despaired of and then departing within twenty minutes, and never startling the old— fashioned by uttering calculated impertinences. He could be depended upon, too. He would not stand against the wall, refusing to dance; and no hostess, presenting him to the plainest damsel in the room, had the smallest fear that he would excuse himself, or abandon his partner at the earliest opportunity. He was an excellent escort for any lady deprived at the last moment of her lord’s attendance, for his appearance could not but add to her consequence, and he was always nice to a fault in every attention to her comfort. Nor was the most jealous husband suspicious of him. “Oh, Freddy Standen!” said these green-eyed gentlemen. “In
that
case, ma’am, very well!”

So Mr. Willis, who did not condescend to chat with every visitor to the club, welcomed Mr. Standen affably, and frowned at the footman who was trying to present him with a quadrille-card. Whoever else might need instruction in the figures of the quadrille Mr. Standen most certainly did not.

“Seen Lady Buckhaven tonight, Willis?” enquired Freddy, bestowing a final touch to his neckcloth.

“Yes, indeed, sir. Her ladyship came in with my Lady Cowper half-an-hour ago. Mr. Westruther was one of her ladyship’s party.”

“Oh, he’s here, is he?” said Freddy. “Much of a squeeze?”

“No, sir, we are a
little
thin of company, the season not having begun,” replied Mr. Willis regretfully. “But it wants forty minutes till eleven, and no doubt we may expect to see the rooms fill up tolerably well.”

After this exchange, Freddy passed into the ballroom, and paused on the threshold, looking about him for his sister.

“Why, there is Freddy Standen!” exclaimed a bedizened matron. “I did not know he was in town again. Dear creature!”

She waggled a hand in a tight kid glove, but failed to attract his attention, this being claimed at that moment by a voice at his elbow. “Hallo, my Tulip! Didn’t you ruralize after all?”

The voice was full of lazy amusement, and it made Freddy turn quickly. It belonged to a tall man whose air and bearing proclaimed the Corinthian. Coat, neckcloth, fobs, seals, and quizzing-glass, all belonged to the Dandy; but the shoulders setting off the coat so admirably, and the powerful thighs, hidden by satin knee-breeches, betrayed the Blood, the out-and-outer not to be beaten on any sporting suit. The face above the starched shirt-points was a handsome one, with a mouth as mocking as its owner’s voice, and a pair of intensely blue eyes which laughed into Freddy’s. The sight of them might have caused Miss Charing’s heart to flutter, but they awoke in Mr. Standen quite different emotions. He opened his mouth to give utterance to a few of the sentiments which had been festering in his bosom for two days, and recollected with a sense of bitter frustration that he was pledged to utter none of them. He shut his mouth again, swallowed, and said merely: “Oh, hallo! You here, coz?”

“Yes, Freddy, yes: I am here, not my wraith! But what are
you
doing here? I thought to have heard of you at Arnside!”

“Got back today,” said Freddy.

Mr. Westruther’s eyes quizzed him maddeningly. “What a short stay, coz! Didn’t they make you welcome?”

Freddy had always rather admired and looked up to his splendid cousin, but he was not going to put up with this sort of thing. He replied, after only a moment’s rapid consideration: “Oh, toll-loll, but it’s a devilish uncomfortable house, and the old gentleman don’t like me to take my man there. Besides, no need to stay longer!”

“No?” said Mr. Westruther, amusement quivering in his voice.

It was seldom that Mr. Standen, a peace-loving young gentleman, was conscious of a wish to come to blows with his fellow-men, but a wistful desire to land his cousin a facer did for an instant flicker in his mind. Several circumstances rendered the gratification of this impulse ineligible, chief amongst them being the hallowed precincts in which they both stood, and the melancholy certainty that such violence could only lead to his own discomfiture. So instead of yielding to brutish instincts, he fell back upon finesse. Opening his snuff-box, he offered it to Jack, saying meditatively: “Queer start! Thought you were bamming me, and dashed nearly didn’t go. Daresay you didn’t know it, but the old gentleman’s going to leave his fortune to Kit, provided she marries one of us.”

Mr. Westruther helped himself to a pinch from the elegant gold box. “Some hint of this, I must own, coz, had reached my ears,” he said gravely.

“Surprised you didn’t go to Arnside, then,” said Freddy.

Mr. Westruther raised his brows. “But what made you think me a gazetted fortune-hunter, Freddy?” “Oh, I don’t know about that!” said Freddy vaguely. “Daresay people took it for granted you and Kit would make a match of it. Thought myself the old gentleman meant to leave the blunt to you. Well, you did too, didn’t you? Been living on the expectancy for years!”

Mr. Westruther said appreciatively: “Well done, Freddy! A hit! I didn’t go to Arnside because I have the oddest dislike of having my hand forced. Our revered great-uncle’s whims are not unamusing, but this one goes beyond the line of what may be tolerated. When I go into wedded shackles it will be in my own time, and in my own fashion.”

“Good notion—if the thing comes off right,” agreed Freddy. “Trouble is, can’t be sure it will!”

His cousin laughed. “I’ll take my chance of that!”

Freddy was well aware of Mr. Westruther’s many conquests. While he was far from understanding why nine females out of ten were so foolish as to fall in love with one who, if not a downright rake, was certainly the most accomplished flirt in town, this was not a question which had previously exercised his mind. Tonight, for the first time, he was nettled by Jack’s assurance; and instead of thinking that it was rather cork-brained of Kitty to hoax Jack, along with all the rest, he suddenly realized that had he been free to tell the truth he would not have done it. Time Jack had a set-down! A certain suspicion beginning to take shape in his mind, he said: “Wish you good fortune! Glad I met you tonight: wanted to tell you! Devilish grateful to you, coz! Never thought there was any chance for me in that quarter: shouldn’t have gone to Arnside if you hadn’t given me a nudge!”

If he had hoped to have confounded his cousin, he was disappointed. There was certainly an arrested look in Mr. Westruther’s face, but he only cocked an eyebrow, and said: “Can it be that I am to wish you happy?”

“That’s it,” replied Freddy. “Mind, we ain’t puffing it off yet, because the old gentleman don’t like it above half, but it’s known in the family.”

He had the satisfaction of seeing Mr. Westruther’s brows snap together, and the laugh quite fade from his eyes; but it was only for a second. The frown vanished as swiftly as it had appeared; Mr. Westruther grinned at him, and said: “No, Freddy, no! Doing it too brown!”

“Ain’t doing it brown at all,” said Freddy stolidly. “Dolph, Hugh, and I all offered for Kit. Accepted me. Well, I knew she would!”

“
What
?”

“Dash it, Jack!” said Freddy, stung. “Any girl would rather marry me than Dolph or Hugh! No use saying Dolph’s an Earl: he’s run off his legs, besides being dicked in the nob! And as for Hugh—lord!”

“Just so,” concurred his cousin. “
But
, Freddy—
but
—! I still say that you are doing it too brown! I will allow that Kitty might prefer you to Dolph or Hugh, but I’m not such a green ‘un that I will swallow this hum that you—
you
, sweet coz!—offered your hand and heart to Kitty Charing! It conjures up an enchanting picture, but no, Freddy, no!”

Freddy toyed with the idea of presenting Mr. Westruther with another picture, that of a long-standing but secret attachment, sketched by Miss Charing’s reckless hand. Something told him that it would not be accepted; and he said instead: “Thought you’d be surprised. Fact is, been thinking for some time I ought to be married. Eldest son, you know: duty!”

“And your father so stricken in years besides!” said Mr. Westruther helpfully.

“No,” said Freddy. “He ain’t stricken in years, but they’ve got measles in the house. No saying what might happen.”

This flight into the realms of fancy was too much for Mr. Westruther. “Enough!” he said. “This bubble was pricked before it was fully blown, coz. I hope you mean to regale me with the true story of what happened at Arnside. Did Dolph and Hugh indeed offer for Kitty?”

“Yes, they did, but anyone could have told ‘em it wouldn’t fadge. Couldn’t expect Kit to like being asked only for Uncle Matthew’s fortune. Knew I didn’t want his blunt. Knew I was dashed fond of her, too. So I popped the question, and there we were. Got a notion we shall suit very well.”

There was now a slight crease between Mr. Westruther’s brows, but he said, still in an amused tone: “Do forgive me!—But how came you, in these circumstances, to tear yourself away from your—er—betrothed so soon? And you always polite to a point!”

“Didn’t tear myself away from her,” replied Freddy. “Brought her up to town with me. Wanted to present her to m’mother and father. She’s in Mount Street.”

He watched his cousin to see how this piece of corroborative information was being received, and was a little puzzled. There was a gleam in Jack’s eyes, and the hint of a smile playing about the corners of his mouth. “I see,” he said. He patted Freddy on the shoulder. “I felicitate you, coz: I am quite sure you will suit admirably! Of course I shall call in Mount Street to pay my respects to the future Mrs. Standen, but in the meantime do, pray, assure her of my best wishes for her happiness!”

“Much obliged. Very likely she’ll visit Meg, though.”

“Then I shall call in Berkeley Square. What a charming surprise for Meg! Here she comes!” He paused, watching Lady Buckhaven, who had been taking part in the country dance which had just ended, trip across the floor towards them. “Dearest cousin, here is Freddy with such delightful news for you! I shall leave him to tell it to you, but I give you warning that when they strike up for the waltz you are mine, and I will by no means submit to being supplanted by him!”

Lady Buckhaven, a very pretty blonde, with her mama’s large, rather full eyes, and a great deal of vivacity, cried out at this. “How can you, Jack? As though I would do anything so rustic as to stand up with my own brother! Freddy, where have you been this age? What have you to tell me?”

His eyes were on his cousin’s retreating form; instead of answering, he said, in a disapproving tone: “What’s he mean by calling you his dearest cousin?”

“Why, that I am, to be sure!” she retorted, laughing.

“Well, it ain’t much to boast of,” said Freddy, having passed his family under rapid mental review. “All the same, shouldn’t encourage him!”

“Don’t be so gothic, Freddy! He is the most enchanting flirt, and only think how ravishing it is to set odious creatures like Charlotte Kilvington there gnawing their nails with jealousy! I declare you are as stupid as Lady Buckhaven! Oh, Freddy, the most shocking thing! That antiquated old fidget insists that I cannot remain in London while Buckhaven is away!”

“Yes, I know. Thought of something, too. That’s why I came tonight.”

“Freddy, you have not? Oh, tell me this instant!” she cried, clasping ecstatic hands.