False Colours (10 page)

‘You must make the attempt: she’ll bullock you if you don’t!’

‘Oh, I mean to keep out of her way! She came to London to make your acquaintance, and now that she has done so I dare say she will return to Berkshire within a day or two!’ returned her ladyship blithely.

‘You’re out, love!’ said Kit, grinning wickedly at her. ‘She remains in London until next month, when she means, according to what Lady Ebchester told me, to go to Worthing for the summer, taking Cressy with her. She charged me with a message for you: you are to visit her one morning!’

‘
No!
’
she ejaculated, in the liveliest horror. ‘Kit, you’re shamming it!’

‘I am not. Those were her very words.’

‘Oh, you abominable creature! Why didn’t you tell her I was sick—gone into the country—
anything
?
She never liked me—indeed, when Stavely was dangling after me she did her utmost to dissuade him from making me an offer! Not that there was the least necessity, for your grandfather would never have countenanced the match when so many
far
more flattering offers were being made for me! Oh, Kit, how
could
you subject me to such an ordeal? She will annihilate me!’

‘No such thing! You have only to bear in mind that Evelyn is a matrimonial prize of the first water, and that will give you an immeasurable feeling of superiority!’

But Lady Denville, while agreeing that Evelyn might look as high as he chose for a bride, refused to be comforted. She informed Kit that when a redoubtable old lady had known one from the cradle such considerations counted for nothing. She added tragically, gathering the shimmering folds of her cloak about her, as she prepared to mount the stairs: ‘I have it on the
best
authority that she described me once as
a pretty widgeon!
And when she looks at me, in that beady way of hers, I shall
feel
like a widgeon!’

‘But a very pretty one!’ her son reminded her.

‘Yes, but much she will care for that!’ replied her ladyship. She paused on the half-landing, to add: ‘And don’t put yourself to the trouble of telling me that I am of higher rank than she is, because she won’t care for that either!’

On these embittered words, she resumed her progress up the stairs. He caught up with her as she reached the second floor, and told her in shocked accents that if she meant to go to bed without kissing him good night he would be unable to sleep a wink. That made her give a choke of laughter; and when he pointed out to her that the ordeal awaiting her was as nothing when compared to the ordeal to which he had been subjected, she melted completely, saying: ‘No, indeed! My poor darling, you may rely on me to lend you all the support I can! There is
nothing
I would not do for
either
of my beloved sons!’

Embracing her with breath-taking heartiness, he mastered a quivering lip, thanked her gravely, and parted from her on the best of terms.

Fimber was waiting for him in his own room. As he eased him out of Evelyn’s longtailed coat, he asked, in the voice of one to whom the answer was a foregone conclusion, if anyone had recognized him. Upon being told that no one had, he said: ‘It was not to be expected that anyone would, sir. When you passed out of my hands this evening the thought crossed my mind that even I should not have known that you were not his lordship. You are, if I may say so, the spit of him, Mr Christopher!’

Questioned about Mr Lucton, he said austerely: ‘A very frippery young gentleman, sir—what one might term a mere barley-straw!’

‘You may term him anything you please,’ said Kit, stripping off his neckcloth, ‘but do you know what was the proposal he made to my brother, to which he expected an answer within a day?’

After a frowning pause, during which Fimber divested Kit of his waistcoat, he said: ‘No, sir, his lordship made no mention of it to me. But from what I know of Mr Lucton I would venture the guess that he may have been wishful to sell his lordship one of his hunters.’

‘Who wants to purchase a hunter at this season?’ demanded Kit sceptically. ‘Not my brother!’

‘No, sir; as you say! But his lordship is known to be very good-natured: one who finds it difficult to say no; and Mr Lucton is frequently in Dun territory. We will discover what Challow may know about the business, when he comes for orders tomorrow morning. I should inform you, Mr Christopher, that I have taken it upon myself to apprise Challow of what has occurred here. I trust you will think that I did right.’

‘Much you’d care if I didn’t!’ observed Kit. ‘It’s to be hoped that he does know what Lucton expects of my brother! If he doesn’t I shall find myself lurched!’

But Challow, presenting himself on the following morning, did not fail his harassed young master. He was a stocky individual, with grizzled hair, and the slightly bowed legs of one bred from his earliest youth to the saddle. He had taught the twins to ride their first ponies, had rescued them from innumerable scrapes, besides putting his foot down on some of their more dangerous exploits; and while his public demeanour towards them was generally respectful, he treated them, in private, as if they were the schoolboys he still thought them. He greeted Kit with a broad grin, responded to an invitation to tip a mauley by grasping the hand held out to him, and saying: ‘Now, that’s enough, Master Kit! How often have I told you to mind your tongue? A nice thing it would be if her ladyship was to hear you using such vulgar language! And who’d bear the blame? Tell me that!’

‘You would—at least, so you always told us, though I don’t think either my mother or my father ever did blame you for the things we said! Challow, I’m in the devil of a hank!’

‘That’s all right, sir:
you’ll
never be bum squabbled!’ replied Challow cheerfully. ‘Not but what things are in a rare hubble-bubble, which I don’t deny. But don’t you fall into the hips! I’ll lay my life you’ll get there with both feet. Well, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t, let alone you always was a sure card! If Fimber hadn’t of told me, I wouldn’t have known you wasn’t his lordship—well, not right off I wouldn’t!’

‘I wish to God I knew what had become of my brother!’

‘You don’t wish it no more than I do, Master Kit. There’s times when I’ve worried myself sick, fancying all kinds of things; but then I get to thinking that his lordship is like a cat: fling him anyway you choose, he’ll land on his feet! And now I’ve seen
you
in tolerable spirits I’ll take my affy-davy he’s safe and sound!’ He cocked an intelligent eye at Kit, and gave a chuckle. ‘Lor’, sir, what kind of a clodpole do you take me for? Me, that knew you when you wasn’t out of leading-strings! If his lordship was in trouble, or—or worse, which
has
crossed my mind—you’d know it! Ain’t that so?’

Kit nodded. ‘Yes—I think. I haven’t said so to my mother, but I could have sworn, about a week ago, that he had met with some accident That’s what brought me home so suddenly. I’d meant to come, for I haven’t been easy—Well, never mind that! I think something
did
happen to him, but it wasn’t fatal. I am as certain of that as I am of anything. If he were dead, or in desperate straits, I should know it.’

‘That’s just what I thought,’ agreed Challow. ‘
He
ain’t dead! In mischief, more like! I never ought to have let him go off like he did, but he properly bamboozled me, Master Kit Nor I didn’t think he’d go off on one of his starts when he’s in a way to be buckled. Oh, well, we’ll just have to bear a hand until he comes back, sir, and that’s all there is to it! Now, if you wish to ride today, there’s a neatish bay hack would suit you pretty well. Or there’s the curricle, and a pair of prime ’uns: beautiful steppers, they are: just the thing for showing off in the Park! Or you could have his lordship’s new tilbury: quite the rage these tilburies have got to be!’

But Kit, pithily informing him that nothing could be farther from his intention than to show himself off in the Park, or anywhere else, declined these offers, and demanded instead to be told what, if anything, Challow knew about Mr Lucton’s mysterious business.

‘Him!’ Challow said scornfully. ‘Trying to sell his lordship a horse which we don’t want: not in our stables we don’t!’

‘If his lordship doesn’t want the animal, why didn’t he tell Mr Lucton so?’

‘You know what his lordship is, sir! Too easy by half! Not but what Mr Lucton ain’t one to take no for an answer: a proper jaw-me-dead he is! He waved to us in the Park, so his lordship pulled up, and then he started in to puff-off a flat-sided chestnut he hunted last season, trying to. slumguzzle my lord into believing it was the very thing for him. Let alone no one would want a horse Mr Lucton had hunted, that chestnut ain’t worth the half of the price he’s set on it. “A perfect fencer,” he tells my lord. “Jumps off his hocks,” he says. Yes, I thought to myself, I wish I may see it! So I give his lordship a nudge, and he tells Mr Lucton he’ll think it over, and let him know next day, meaning, as he told me, to write him a civil note. I dare say it slipped his mind, for it was the next day that we went off to Ravenhurst. There’s no call for you to trouble yourself, Master Kit.’

‘Oh, isn’t there? Mr Lucton is coming here today, to get my answer! I shall have to buy the creature, I suppose. What’s the figure?’

‘Master Kit! You won’t never! £160 is what he told his lordship, and dear at £80 is what I say!’

‘I’ll offer him £100, and if he refuses, so much the better. I can’t say I don’t want the horse when the man’s been kept waiting for a fortnight! I’ll give him a draft on my bank—Oh, the devil! I can’t do that, can I? Well, you must go to the bank for me, Challow, and draw the money in bills. I’ll give you a cheque. I’d better make it out for £200, for I shall be needing some pitch and pay for myself. Don’t get robbed!’

‘It’s you that’s going to be robbed, sir!’ said Challow, deeply disapproving.

‘Not I! I’m buying this horse on my brother’s behalf—and serve him right!’ said Kit.

He set forth a little later to walk to Mount Street, nattily attired in the correct town-dress of a gentleman of fashion. His coat of dark blue superfine was the very latest made for Evelyn by Weston, and never yet worn by its owner; his stockinette pantaloons were knitted in the newest and most delicate dove-colour; his cambric shirt was modishly austere, with no ruffle, but three plain buttons; his waistcoat combined opulence with discretion; and his hat, set at an angle on his glowing locks, had a tall and tapering crown, smoothly brushed, and very different from the low, shaggy beaver to which Fimber had taken such instant exception. Only his Hessian boots were his own. Within ten minutes of forcing his feet into Evelyn’s shoes Kit had straitly commanded Fimber to retrieve from his baggage his own foot-wear. Fimber, obstinately prejudiced against Kit’s Viennese valet, had eyed his Hessians with contempt, but there was really no fault to be found either in their cut, or in their unsullied brilliance. Starched shirt points of moderate height, a Mathematical Tie, dogskin gloves, an elegant fob, and a malacca cane completed Mr Fancot’s attire, and caused his mama to declare that he was precise to a pin. Thus fortified, he set forth with tolerable composure to keep his appointment with Miss Stavely.

Halfway up John Street this composure was shaken by an encounter with a total stranger, who demanded indignantly what he meant by giving him the cut direct He extricated himself from this situation by pleading a brown study; but as he had no clue to the stranger’s identity, nor any knowledge of the latest
on-dit
s to which this Pink of the Ton made oblique references, the ensuing conversation severely taxed his ingenuity. It culminated in a pressing invitation to him to join a gathering of Evelyn’s cronies at Limmer’s Hotel that evening. He declined this, on the score of having promised to escort his mother to a ton-party; and parted from his insouciant new acquaintance imbued with a resolve to seek refuge at Ravenhurst without any loss of time.

It had been forcibly borne in upon him that a prolonged sojourn in the Metropolis would not only be extremely wearing, but would infallibly lead to his undoing.

He was admitted to Lord Stavely’s house by the butler, who came as near to bestowing a conspiratorial wink upon him as his sense of propriety permitted, and was conducted to a parlour, at the back of the house. Here Miss Stavely awaited him, becomingly attired in a morning dress of jaconet muslin, made up to the throat, its sleeves tightly buttoned at the wrists, and its hem embellished with a broad, embroidered flounce. As he bent ceremonially over her hand, the butler, surveying the scene with a fatherly and sentimental eye, heaved an audible sigh of great sensibility, and withdrew, softly closing the door behind him.

There had been constraint in Miss Stavely’s manner, but the butler’s sigh brought the ready twinkle into her eyes, and she said involuntarily: ‘Oh, dear! Poor Dursley is convinced that he is assisting in a romantical affair! Don’t be dismayed! The thing is that he, and all the upper servants, have, most unfortunately, taken it upon themselves to champion what they imagine to be my cause!’

‘Unfortunately?’ he said.

‘Why, yes! I should be a monster if I were not very much touched by their loyalty, but I wish with all my heart they could be persuaded to accept Albinia as my successor! You can’t conceive how awkward they make it for both of us! Do what I will, they persist in coming to me for orders, even of referring
her
orders to me! I do most sincerely feel for her: her situation is insupportable!’

‘What of yours?’ he asked. ‘Is that not insupportable?’

‘Yes,’ she acknowledged, with a wry smile. ‘You know that! It was—is!—my reason for—for entertaining your proposal, my lord.’