Cotillion (35 page)

A speaking look of gratitude was cast down at her. Meg recovered her colour a little, and replied: “Oh, yes, a dead bore! Do, pray, come to my room! Goodnight, Freddy! Don’t keep Kitty standing down there, prosing on for ever!” She waved an airy hand, and disappeared again from view.

Freddy, who had been surveying her with an expression on his face of strong disapproval, said despairingly: “
Pink
! Dashed if I know why it is, but a female’s only got to have a yaller head, and nothing will do for her but to wear pink! Can’t be surprised poor Buckhaven’s gone to China, can you? Now, mind, Kit! not a word to her about your cousin!”

“No, I promise I will be utterly silent on that head!” Kitty assured him, giving him her hand, and clasping his warmly. “Goodnight! And
indeed
I thank you, Freddy!”

He kissed her fingers gracefully, “No, no! Pleasure!” he stammered.

He then departed, and Kitty sped up the stairs to her hostess’s room. Their quarrel was forgotten: Meg said without preamble: “Kitty, how in the world came Freddy to bring you home? Good God, I was ready to sink!”

“He went to fetch me from the Scortons’ house, learned where I had gone, and came there in search of me. What a goose you are, Meg! I was in agonies lest you should betray yourself!”

“He didn’t suspect?” Meg said anxiously.

“No, of course he did not!”

“What an escape!” shuddered Meg. “I have been quite sick with apprehension, for he doesn’t like it when I go out with Jack, and if he knew of
this
I daresay he would tell Papa, and you may depend upon it I should be packed off to stay with Lady Buckhaven on the instant! I must say, it was excessively handsome of you not to have told him, Kitty!”

“As though I would do anything so shabby!” exclaimed Kitty. “But whatever possessed you to go to the Opera House? How
could
Jack have taken you there? I saw at once that it was not at all the sort of party one ought to go to, and surely he must have known that!”

“Oh, yes! He said that Freddy would have his blood, if he came to hear of it, but there was not the least harm, you know! I have always so wished to go to one of those masquerades, and of course Buckhaven will never take me, and nor will Freddy, so I teased Jack to! He took very good care of me, I assure you, and it is not as though I was unmasked. We came away at midnight, but I should like to have remained, for I thought it was very good sport, though, of course, shockingly vulgar! Did you enjoy it?”

Kitty shuddered. “It was quite the worst evening I have ever spent!” she said. “I was never more thankful in my life than when I saw Freddy!”

“Was he very much vexed?” enquired Meg. “He has such stuffy notions!”

“No, no, he was so kind that I almost burst into tears! And he
might
have reproached me! I do think,” said Kitty fervently, “that Freddy is the most truly chivalrous person imaginable!”

Freddy’s sister, regarding her with awe, opened her mouth, shut it again, swallowed, and managed to say, though in a faint voice: “Do you, indeed?”

“Yes, and a great deal more to the purpose than all the people one was taught to revere, like Sir Lancelot, and Sir Galahad, and Young Lochinvar, and—and that kind of man! I daresay Freddy might not be a great hand at slaying dragons, but you may depend upon it none of those knight-errants would, be able to rescue one from a social fix, and you must own, Meg, that one has not the smallest need of a man who can kill dragons! And as for riding off with one in the middle of a party, which I have always thought must have been extremely uncomfortable, and not at all the sort of thing one would wish to happen to one—What is the matter?”

Meg raised her head from the sofa-cushions: “He w-would say it was n-not at all the th-thing!”

“Very well, and why should he not?” said Kitty, refusing to share in her hostess’s unseemly mirth. “If you were to hear of such a thing’s happening, you would think it most improper, now, wouldn’t you?” A sudden thought occurred to her, and she choked, and said, in an uncertain tone: “As a matter of fact, he said that Lochinvar sounded to him like a d-dashed loose-screw!”

A wail from the depths of the cushions proved to be too much for Kitty’s command over herself. Both ladies then enjoyed a very hearty laugh; after which they embraced, and parted company for the night without exchanging any further confidences.

The following day passed uneventfully, the only excursion undertaken by two rather weary ladies being a walk to Mount Street, whither they went to take leave of Lady Legerwood, who was conveying the nursery-party to Margate that day. As this included Fanny and her governess, her ladyship’s own maid, and two damsels hired to wait on the nursery and the schoolroom, it was an impressive cortege which set out from London, Lady Legerwood carrying Edmund in her own post-chaise; Miss Kendal and the two unmarried daughters of the house following in a second chaise; and Nurse, with the attendant abigails, and a mountain of baggage, bringing up the rear in a large travelling-coach. Lord Legerwood, who was escorting his family, and remaining with them for a few days, had taken one look at the pile of invalid comforts destined for the chaise that bore his ailing youngest son, and had said that he preferred to ride.

Lady Legerwood, although flustered by all the bustle of departure, found time to sit for a few minutes with the visitors, enquiring anxiously after Meg’s state of health, giving her a great deal of good advice, charging Kitty to take care of her, and loading both young ladies with conflicting admonitions on what they should do in the event of accident. She said worriedly that she very much disliked being obliged to leave them unprotected, but derived a certain modicum of comfort from the reflection that it would not be many days before Lord Legerwood was back in town.

“Meanwhile, my love,” said his lordship, taking snuff, “you may safely leave them in Freddy’s care.”

These bland words caused his heir, who had joined the party, very natty in a new coat of blue superfine and pantaloons of a delicate dove-shade, to eye him with acute suspicion. Perceiving it, he laughed, and said: “Pray do not look at me as though I were a coiled snake, Freddy! I am sure you will take excellent care of the girls. My dear, I do not wish to hurry you, but it is time we were setting forward.”

Everyone then went out to where the carriages waited; a footman was sent to fetch another rug for the invalid; Nurse and Miss Kendal dissuaded her ladyship from unpacking a valise to assure herself that Edmund’s medicine had not been forgotten; farewells were spoken, kisses exchanged, and at last the steps of the carriages were let up, and the doors shut. Kitty, who could never see Lady Legerwood without suffering a smart of conscience, and was particularly discomposed by having received a very kind embrace from her, found that Lord Legerwood was at her elbow, and was thrown into still worse confusion by his holding out his hand to her, and saying, with s smile: “For the present, goodbye, my child. I look forward to having you under my own roof at no very distant date now.”

A blush flooded her cheeks; she stammered she knew not what; and cast an almost frightened look up into his face.

“Don’t run away, will you?” he said quizzically. “I like Freddy’s engagement very well, you know. It has done him a great deal of good.”

“Sir—Lord Legerwood!” she said desperately. “I cannot—”

“You cannot talk to me in the open street. Very true! You shall tell me all about it next week, when I return to town. I must go now.”

He gave her hand a pat, and released it, bade farewell to his son and daughter, mounted his horse, and rode off in the wake of the carriages.

“What can Papa have meant?” wondered Meg. “What are you to tell him, Kitty. Why do you look so oddly?”

“I don’t think I have anything I need tell him,” replied Kitty, in a hollow tone. “Do you, Freddy?”

“No,” said Freddy, “but there’s something he might have told me! Dash it, I ought to have thought of it before! When does term end?” He saw that he had mystified his audience, and added impatiently: “Oxford!”

“Good gracious, I don’t know!” said Meg. “What does it signify?”

“It may not signify anything to you, but it dashed well does to me!” said Freddy, with feeling. “Because if m’father’s gone junketing off to Margate, and I’ve to take care of Charlie, it’s the outside of enough! The last time Charlie was in town he was pounded by the Watch, and I had to go and bail him out at three in the morning, because he’d spent his last groat! Yes, you may laugh, Meg, but you know very well that if Charlie comes down from Oxford, and finds m’father away, he’ll be bound to kick up some lark or other! I don’t say it ain’t a natural thing to do, but the thing is I

shall get the blame for it. I must go and take a look at the calendar at once.”

“Freddy, you will come to see me later, won’t you?” Kitty begged. “You know we have something important to discuss!”

“Yes, I’ll come tomorrow,” he said. “Must make sure Charlie don’t catch me napping first!”

Kitty was a good deal amused, but as she and Meg began to walk back to Berkeley Square, Meg said: ‘‘Poor Freddy! He is for ever being obliged to get Charlie out of a scrape, you know!”

“But I thought Charlie was the clever one!” objected Kitty.

“Oh, yes, indeed he is! He took a great many prizes at Eton, and never finds the least difficulty in learning anything! Only, of course, Freddy is the eldest, besides being on the town, and so it is not to be wondered at that Charlie depends upon him in all his absurd fixes. Charlie,” said Meg, with simple pride, “is very wild, you see.”

Upon the following morning, while she waited for Meg in the barouche, outside a shop in Bond Street, Kitty heard her name spoken, and turned her head from the contemplation of a hat in a milliner’s window across the street to find that Mrs. Broughty and Olivia had paused beside the carriage.

She saw at once that Olivia was looking pale and unhappy, and realized, as soon as Mrs. Broughty began to speak, that that lady was very much incensed at the knowledge that she had been to the masquerade. The most profuse apologies to Miss Charing tripped off her tongue; she dared not hope that she would forgive Olivia for having drawn her into such a scrape; feared she must have been very much disgusted; scarcely knew how she herself could ever venture to look dear Lady Buckhaven in the face again. Hoping very much that Meg would not suddenly appear to put her to this necessity, Kitty said everything that was proper, even going so far as to assert mendaciously that she had passed a very agreeable evening.

“I would not have had such a thing happen for the world!” Mrs. Broughty declared, a flush of annoyance in her cheeks. “Opera House masquerades indeed! I cannot conceive how Olivia can have consented to such a vulgar scheme, for you are not to be thinking, Miss Charing, that I have not taught her better, as I don’t doubt you must be. Fine doings for a gentleman’s daughter, as I have been telling her ever since I heard about this start! If she does not destroy all her chances, it will be no fault of hers, I am sure! I was never more put-out in my life!”

“Oh, pray, hush, ma’am!” begged Kitty, perceiving that Olivia was on the brink of tears. “There was no harm done, I do assure you! Have you some errand in Bond Street? I am awaiting Lady Buckhaven, and should be so much obliged to you if you will permit Olivia to bear me company for a few minutes!”

“I am sure the obligation is all on my side, dear Miss Charing, for I was prepared for you to cut the connection, and never have another word to say to Olivia! I am bound for Hookham’s Library, and I shall be very happy to leave Olivia with you, if you will be so condescending as to overlook her conduct.”

“If Olivia will be so good as to stroll with me down the street, I will bring her to Hookham’s in a few minutes,” promised Kitty, descending from the barouche. Addressing the footman who had jumped down to open the door for her, she said: “If her ladyship should return before I do myself, please inform her that I shall not be gone above fifteen minutes!” She then bowed civilly to Mrs. Broughty, and bore Olivia off in the opposite direction to Hookham’s, saying, as she slipped a hand in her arm: “We cannot talk freely in the carriage, so I thought you would not object to walking a little way with me. My dear, pray do not look so cast-down! Indeed, there is not the least need! I am sorry your Mama should be so much vexed, and fear you have been having a sad time of it, poor little thing!”

“It has been so dreadful!” Olivia said, in a trembling voice. “I thought we must have packed our trunks yesterday, for Mama quarrelled quite shockingly with Aunt Matty—I daresay you might have heard them half a mile away, particularly when my poor aunt fell into strong hysterics. However, it is now made-up between them, only Mama says that I have ruined all my chances, besides having behaved ill from the start, in not making a push to avail myself of all the opportunities that have been put in my way. But, oh, my dear Miss Charing, I
did
try to do just what she bid me, and I should have been very glad to have caught a rich husband
then
, for I had not met Camille! Only now it is all changed, and the only hope I have is that I shall go into a decline, and die!”

Slightly startled by this peculiar ambition, Kitty said: “Good God, don’t speak of such a thing! May I talk frankly to you? My cousin disclosed the whole to me, as I daresay he may have told you. You may guess how shocked I am, and how distressed to think that it should have been I who made him known to you! Believe me, had I had the smallest suspicion of the truth, I would never have done so! I have been an ill friend to you, Olivia. I am fully conscious of it!”