False Colours (32 page)

‘
Do
you, sir?’ said Kit again, and with even more affability.

Mr Cliffe, rising, and going towards the door with great stateliness, expressed the hope that he had rather too much force of mind to allow himself to be provoked by the top-loftiness of a mere nephew, who was, like many other bumptious sprigs, too ready to sport his canvas; and withdrew in good order.

Mindful of the charge laid upon him, Kit then turned his attention to his aunt, with polite suggestions for her entertainment. She received these with a slight air of affront, giving him to understand that her day would be spent in laying slices of lemon-peel on her son’s brow, burning pastilles, and—if his headache persisted—applying a cataplasm to his feet. He listened gravely to this dismal programme; and with a solicitude which placed a severe strain upon Miss Stavely’s self-command, and caused Ambrose to glare at him in impotent rage, suggested that in extreme cases a blister to the head was often found to be beneficial. Apparently feeling that he had discharged his obligations, he then invited Miss Stavely to take a turn in the shrubbery with him. Miss Stavely, prudently refusing to meet his eye, said, with very tolerable composure, that that would be very agreeable; and subsequently afforded him the gratification of realizing (had he been considering the matter) that she was eminently fitted to become the wife of an Ambassador by containing her bubbling amusement until out of sight of the house, when pent-up giggles overcame her, and rapidly infected her somewhat harassed escort.

Mr Fancot, the first to recover, said: ‘Yes, I know, Cressy, but there is nothing to laugh at in the fix we are
now
in, I promise you! I imagine you’ve guessed already that my abominable twin has reappeared?’

‘Oh, yes!’ she managed to utter. ‘F-from the moment G-Godmama said—said:
Not quails!
with
such
a quizzing look at you!’

Mr Fancot grinned, but expressed his inability to understand why no one had ever yet murdered his beloved mama. Miss Stavely cried out upon him for saying anything so unjust and improper; but she became rather more sober as she listened to the tale of Evelyn’s adventure. She did indeed suffer a slight relapse when kindly informed of her noble suitor’s relief at learning that he had been released from his obligations; but she was quick to perceive all the difficulties of a situation broadened to include an alternative bride for his lordship of whom so rigid a stickler as his uncle would certainly not approve.

‘Oh, dear!’ she said distressfully. ‘That is unfortunate! What is to be done?’

He responded frankly: ‘I haven’t the least notion! Do you bend your mind to the problem, love!
My
present concern is to recover that confounded brooch!’

She nodded. ‘Yes, indeed! I do feel that that is of the first importance. I am not myself acquainted with Lord Silverdale, but from anything I have ever heard said of him I am much afraid that your brother is very right: he is—he is shockingly malicious! Papa told me once that he is as hungry as a church mouse, but can always command a dinner at the price of the latest and most scandalous
on-dit
. And if he is one of the Prince Regent’s guests—Kit, do
you
know how to obtain a private interview with him?’

‘No,’ replied Kit cheerfully, ‘but I fancy I know who can supply me with the answer to that problem!’

‘Sir Bonamy!’ she exclaimed, after an instant’s frowning bewilderment.

‘Exactly so!’ said Kit. He added proudly: ‘Not for nothing am I Mama’s son! I too have nacky notions!’

17

A luncheon, consisting of sundry cold meats, cakes, jellies, and fruit, was always served at noon in the apartment known as the Little Dining-room; and it had been Kit’s intention to have lain in wait for Sir Bonamy to issue forth from his bedroom, in the hope of being able to exchange a few words with him before he joined the other guests downstairs. But owing to the extraordinarily swift passage of time it was not until the stable-clock had struck twelve that either Mr Fancot or Miss Stavely could believe that they had been in the shrubbery for over an hour. A glance at Kit’s watch, however, sent them hurrying back to the house, where they found the rest of the party, with the single exception of the Dowager, already discussing luncheon. Although Mr and Mrs Cliffe later agreed that modern damsels were permitted a regrettable freedom which would never have been countenanced when they were young, no one made any comment on the tardy and simultaneous arrival of the truants, Lady Denville even going so far as to smile at them.

Ambrose had allowed himself to be persuaded by his mother to partake of a few morsels of food, to keep up his strength; but the Dowager had sent down a message by her maid, excusing herself from putting in an appearance until later in the day. ‘Nothing to cause alarm!’ Lady Denville told Cressy. ‘Her maid says that she passed a wakeful night, and so finds herself just a trifle down pin today.’

‘I thought she would,’ said Sir Bonamy, putting up his quizzing-glass the better to inspect a raised chicken-pie. ‘Too much cross-and-jostle work last night!’ He looked up to shake his head in fond reproof at his hostess. ‘You shouldn’t have invited Maria Dersingham, my lady!’

‘I am so
very
sorry, Cressy!’

But Cressy, with a cheerfulness which Mrs Cliffe considered to be very unbecoming in a granddaughter, assured Lady Denville that, although the excitement of encountering her ancient ally and present enemy might have been a little too much for her, Grandmama had much enjoyed the evening.

‘So she did!’ nodded Sir Bonamy. ‘Mind you, it was touch-and-go until we came to the calves’ ears! That’s when she took the lead in milling. Wonderful memory your grandmama has, my dear Miss Stavely!’ His vast bulk shook with his rumbling laugh. ‘Popped in as pretty a hit as I hope to see over Maria Dersingham’s guard! By the bye, my lady, that was a capital Italian sauce your cook served with the calves’ ears!’

It was left to Lady Denville to express the sentiments of the rest of the company, which she promptly did, saying: ‘Yes, but what happened about calves’ ears, Bonamy?’

‘No, no!’ he replied, still gently shaking. ‘I’m not one to go on the high gab, my lady, and I’ll tell no tales! I’ll take a mouthful of the pie, Denville, and just a sliver of ham!’

Interpreting this in a liberal spirit, Kit supplied him with a large wedge of pie, and flanked it with half-a-dozen slices of ham. Mrs Cliffe, who had never ceased to marvel at his appetite, turned eyes of mute astonishment towards her sister-in-law, who told Sir Bonamy severely that a little fruit, and a biscuit (if he was ravenous), was all he ought to permit himself to eat in the middle of the day. She added that she herself rarely ate any nuncheon at all.

‘Yes, yes, but you have not so much to keep up!’ said Sir Bonamy, blenching at the thought of such privation.

‘Well, if you didn’t eat so much you wouldn’t have so much to keep up either!’ she pointed out.

Her brother, strongly disapproving of this candid speech, directed a quelling look at her, and pointedly changed the subject, saying that he trusted she had found Nurse Pinner suffering from no serious disorder. ‘Nothing infectious, I hope?’

‘Oh, no! Just a trifle out of sorts!’ she replied.

‘Infectious!’ exclaimed Mrs Cliffe. ‘My dear sister, how can you tell that it is not? How imprudent of you to have visited her! I wish you had not done so!’

‘Nonsense, Emma! A mere colic!’

Mrs Cliffe’s fears seemed to have been allayed. Kit saw, with some foreboding, that his mama had become suddenly a little pensive, and quaked inwardly. Never, he reflected, did she look more soulful than when she was hatching some outrageous scheme. He tried to catch her eye, but she was looking at Cressy, who had finished her nuncheon, and was sitting with her hands folded patiently in her lap.

‘Dear child, you wish to go upstairs to see your grandmama!’ she said. ‘You know we don’t stand on ceremony, so run away immediately! Give her my love, and tell her how much I hope to see her presently; and then come to my drawing-room—that is, if Lady Stavely can spare you, of course!’ She waited until Cressy had left the room, and then addressed herself to Kit. ‘Dearest, your uncle’s asking me if Pinny’s disorder is infectious puts me in mind of something I think I should tell you—oh, and Ambrose too, perhaps! I wouldn’t mention it in Cressy’s presence—not that I think she would have taken fright, for she has a great deal too much commonsense, but she might speak of it to Lady Stavely, and I would not for the world cast
her
into high fidgets! It is all nonsense, but I wish you will neither of you go into the village just at present! Though you may depend upon it if there
is
an epidemic disease there one of servants will contract it, and spread it
all
over the house. However—’

But at this point she was interrupted, Mrs Cliffe demanding in palpitating accents: ‘
What
disease? For heaven’s sake, Amabel, tell me this instant!’

‘Why, none at all, Emma!’ replied her ladyship, laughing. ‘It is only one of Pinny’s tales! Merely because one or two of the villagers complain of sore throats she
will
have it that they have contracted scarlet fever! Such stuff!’

‘
Scarlet fever
—!’

‘Oh, my dear Emma, there is not the least occasion for any of us to fly into a fuss!’ Lady Denville said earnestly. ‘Pinny always thinks that if one has nothing more than a cold in the head one is sickening for a fatal complaint! Why she once said there was
typhus
in the village!’ She broke off, wrinkling her brow. ‘Well, now I come to think of it, she was quite right! But this is a very different matter, and I do beg of you not to take fright!’

She had said enough. Mrs Cliffe, pallid with dismay, declared distractedly that nothing could prevail upon her to remain another hour in such a plague-stricken neighbourhood. Amabel might think her timorous and uncivil, but she must understand that every consideration must yield to the paramount need to remove her only son out of danger.

Lady Denville, to Kit’s intense admiration, managed to beseech her not to fly from Ravenhurst, without in any way lessening her alarm; Cosmo, when dramatically appealed to, wavered; and Ambrose, who had been dragged to Ravenhurst against his will, and had been wishing himself otherwhere from the moment he had crossed the threshold, seized the first opportunity that offered of lending his mother his support. He did not think the air at Ravenhurst salubrious; he had not cared to mention it before, but he had been feeling out of sorts for several days. A hint that a few weeks spent at Brighton might prove beneficial was well taken by Mrs Cliffe, but met with a flat veto from Cosmo, visibly appalled by the very thought of sojourning at so expensive a resort. In the end, and after much argument,, it was settled that they should go to Worthing, where, according to what Mrs Cliffe had learnt from the Dowager, there were several excellent boarding-houses which provided an extraordinary degree of comfort at very moderate charges. Here, protected from the chilling blasts of the north and east winds by the Downs, Ambrose would be able to bathe, or to ride along the sands, without running the risk of contracting an inflammation of the lungs. There were also three respectable libraries, at two of which newspapers and magazines were received every morning and evening; and at least one very reliable doctor, of whom the Dowager spoke in terms of rare encomium.

Had it been possible, Cosmo would have returned with his wife and son to his own home; but since he had graciously lent this for the summer months to a distant and far from affluent cousin, who was too thankful to have been offered, free, a country residence large enough to accommodate his numerous progeny to cavil at being obliged to pay the wages of Cosmo’s servants, this was impossible. With the utmost reluctance, and only when the wife of his bosom had announced that he might remain at Ravenhurst, if he chose to run the risk of contracting scarlet fever, but that nothing would prevail upon her to expose her only child to such a danger, did he consent to remove that very day to Worthing’s one hotel, and then only on condition that no time should be lost, on arrival at this elegant hostelry, in seeking less expensive quarters.

It was not to be expected that Mr Ambrose Cliffe, hankering after the amusements afforded by Brighton, would be entirely satisfied by the decision to spend the summer months at a small place patronized largely by such elderly persons as disliked the racket of Brighton; but as he had never had much hope of persuading his father to look for lodgings in Brighton, and knew that Worthing was a mere ten or eleven miles distant from the more fashionable resort, he raised no objection.

Throughout the discussion, which was punctuated by charming, if mendacious, entreaties from Lady Denville that her relations should remain at Ravenhurst, in defiance of a rumour which she was
positive
was ill-founded, Sir Bonamy, with the utmost placidity, continued to work his way through the various dishes set upon the table. Only when Mrs Cliffe, hurrying away to prepare for the journey, turned to take her leave of him, did he heave himself out of his chair, or betray the smallest interest in the scarifying story set about by his hostess. She, declaring her intention of rendering dear Emma every assistance in the arduous task of packing her trunk, shepherded the three Cliffes out of the room, but turned back, exclaiming that she had forgotten to pick up her reticule, for the purpose of confiding hurriedly to her son and her cicisbeo that it was all a hum, but that she had felt that the Cliffes
must
be induced to go away.