The Nonesuch (14 page)

It was possible, however, that in his own element Sir Waldo might show another side to his
character. Not for a moment did Ancilla believe that he would lead greenhorns astray; but she was bound to acknowledge that for anything she knew his path might be littered with wounded hearts. She could not doubt that he was a master of the art of flirtation; and she was only too well aware of his fatal fascination. She decided that her wisest course would be to put him out of her mind. After reaching this conclusion she lay thinking about him until at last she fell asleep.

Upon the following day she was driven over to Colby Place in Mrs Underhill’s smart new barouche to enquire after Elizabeth. Charlotte had been her companion designate, but as soon as Tiffany heard of the scheme she said that it was exactly what she had been meaning to do herself, and very prettily begged Miss Trent to grant her a place in the carriage. Forthright Charlotte, who suffered from few illusions, instantly cried off, saying that she preferred to bear Mama company at home than to occupy the forward seat in the barouche. So Tiffany went with Miss Trent, looking a picture of lovely innocence in a gown of sprig muslin, and a charming hat of chip straw, tied under her chin with blue ribbons. A parasol protected her complexion from the sun; and upon the forward seat reposed a basket of grapes. These were an offering from Mrs Underhill, whose succession-houses were the envy of her acquaintances; but Miss Trent, labouring under even fewer illusions than Charlotte, would not have hazarded a groat against the chance that Tiffany would not present them as the fruits of her own solicitude. Any doubts she might have cherished were dispelled by that damsel’s disarmingly naïve explanation.

‘So
no one
could think I was unkind to poor Lizzie, could they? And
also
,
Ancilla, I have invited Patience to go with us to Leeds on Friday, because she wants to purchase new gloves and sandals for the Colebatches’ ball next week, just as I do, and was in quite a puzzle to know how to manage, on account of Mrs Chartley’s being laid up with one of her colicky disorders!’

‘That
was
kind of you, Tiffany!’ said Miss Trent admiringly.

‘Well, I think it was,’ said Tiffany. ‘For there’s nothing so uncomfortable as having a third person in one’s carriage! It means you will be obliged to sit forward – But I knew you wouldn’t care a button!’

‘No, indeed!’ agreed Miss Trent, with great cordiality. ‘I am only too happy to be allowed to contribute my mite to your generosity.’

‘Yes,’ said Tiffany,
sublimely unconscious of satire, ‘I was persuaded you would say I had done just as I ought!’

When they reached Colby Place they perceived that they were not the only visitors. A glossy phaeton, to which was harnessed a team once described by Courtenay as a bang-up set-out of blood and bone, was drawn up in the shade of a large elm tree. A groom in plain livery touched his hat to the ladies; and Tiffany exclaimed: ‘Oh, Sir Waldo is here!’

But it was not Sir Waldo, as they discovered when they entered the house, and found Lord Lindeth chatting to Lady Colebatch in her morning-parlour. He jumped up as they were ushered into the room, and when he saw Tiffany a warm light sprang to his eyes, and he said, in a low tone, as soon as she had greeted her hostess and turned to hold out her hand to him: ‘That’s right! I knew you would come!’

‘But of course!’ she said, opening her eyes to their widest. ‘Poor Lizzie! Is she better, Lady Colebatch? I have brought some grapes for her.’

Lady Colebatch, accepting the basket with thanks, replied placidly that there was nothing the matter with Lizzie that would not be amended by a day’s repose, and invited Tiffany to run upstairs to join Miss Chartley at her bedside.

‘Patience? Why, what brings her here?’ demanded Tiffany, astonished, and by no means pleased to discover that the Rector’s daughter had been before her in paying a visit of condolence.

Still less was she pleased when she learned that Patience, hearing the news of her friend’s collapse through the mysterious but inevitable village-channels, had set out to walk the three miles that separated Colby Place from the village, but had been overtaken by Lindeth, diving his cousin’s phaeton, and bent upon the same charitable errand. He had naturally taken her up beside him, which, said Lady Colebatch, with unruffled serenity, she was excessively relieved to know, because although she knew Patience to be an indefatigable walker it would have cast her into high fidgets to have thought of her having trudged so far in such warm weather.

Lindeth did not seem to have wasted his time during the short drive. Miss Chartley had chanced to mention the forthcoming shopping expedition to Leeds, and he had instantly proposed a capital plan to her, which he now propounded to Miss Trent. ‘I know my cousin has business in Leeds on Friday, so I am hereby issuing an invitation to you all to partake of a nuncheon at the King’s Head!’ he said gaily. ‘Do say you will come, ma’am! I’ve extracted a promise from Miss Chartley that
she
will, if
her mama should not object!’

‘
I
see!’ said Miss Trent, quizzing him. ‘She
would
object if I were not there to chaperon the party! My dear Lord Lindeth, how can I find the words to thank you for your
very
flattering invitation? I am quite overcome!’

He laughed, blushing. ‘No, no, I didn’t mean it so! You know I didn’t! Miss Wield, what do you say?’ He smiled at her, adding softly: ‘Instead of the nuncheon we
didn
’
t
eat at Knaresborough! You won’t be so cruel as to refuse!’

It piqued her to be the last to receive his invitation, but she was on her best behaviour, and she replied at once: ‘Oh, no! A delightful scheme! The very thing to revive us after all our shopping!’

She then went off, with every appearance of
alacrity, to visit Elizabeth; and Lady Colebatch remarked that she didn’t know what Lizzie had done to deserve such kind friends.

When Tiffany came down again she was accompanied by Miss Chartley, and the whole party took their leave. Miss Trent wondered whether his infatuation would prompt Lindeth to offer to take Tiffany up in place of Patience, and hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry when he made no such suggestion. It was Patience who hesitated, as he stood waiting to hand her up into the carriage, glancing towards Tiffany with a question in her eyes, and saying in her gentle way: ‘Wouldn’t you prefer to go in the phaeton, Tiffany?’

Tiffany would infinitely have preferred it, and had Julian invited her she would have accepted, after a graceful show of reluctance. But Julian had not invited her, and he did not now add his voice to Miss Chartley’s. That it would have been scarcely civil of him to have done so never occurred to Tiffany; if it had, she would have brushed such an excuse aside: he had chosen to be civil to Patience at
her
expense, and that, in her eyes, was an unpardonable offence. As for accepting a seat in the phaeton at Patience’s hands, she would have chosen rather to walk back to Staples. She uttered a brittle laugh, and said: ‘No, I thank you! I detest riding in phaetons, and am in a constant quake – unless they are being driven by someone I
know
won’t overturn them!’

Miss Trent, who had been stroking one of the leaders, said, in a voice that had in the past more than once abashed a pert pupil: ‘My dear Tiffany, surely you are able to distinguish between perch-phaeton and a high-perch phaeton?’ She paid no further heed to Tiffany,
but smiled at Lindeth: ‘The fact that you are driving your cousin’s team tells me that you’re no whipster, Lord Lindeth! Or did you steal them when his back was turned?’

He laughed. ‘No, I shouldn’t dare! Waldo always lets me drive his horses. He must, you know, for it was he who taught me to handle the reins in form. Only think of
the wound his pride would suffer
if he had to own that his pupil was not fit to be trusted with his horses! Don’t be afraid, Miss Chartley! I’m not a top-sawyer, but I shan’t overturn you!’

‘Indeed, I haven’t the smallest fear of that,’ she replied, glancing shyly up at him. ‘You drove me here so comfortably!’

‘Thank you!’ He saw that Tiffany was preparing to get into the barouche, and walked across to her, to hand her in. ‘I mean to make you unsay those words one of these days!’ he said playfully. ‘The grossest injustice! I wish we hadn’t to part so soon: I’ve scarcely exchanged half-a-dozen sentences with you. Did you find Miss Colebatch better? Her mama assured me we need not be afraid of
a put-off of their ball next week. Will you dance the waltz with me?’

‘
What?
’
she exclaimed, her sulks instantly forgotten. ‘Lindeth, you can’t mean we are to
waltz
?
Oh, you’re hoaxing me!’

He shook his head. ‘I’m not! Dashing, isn’t it?’

‘Oh, yes, and such fun!’ she cried, clapping her hands. ‘I declare I’m ready to
dote
on Lady Colebatch! But how does she dare to be so dreadfully fast? Only think how Mrs Mickleby will look!’

‘It has her sanction – almost her blessing!’

‘Impossible!’

‘I assure you!’ His eyes danced. ‘Lady Colebatch sought her counsel, and she – naturally! – applied to those tonnish London cousins of hers. They informed her that the waltz is now all the crack, and is even permitted at Almack’s. Only rustics, they wrote, still frowned on it.
So
– !’

‘Oh, famous, famous!’ she giggled. ‘The great Mrs Mickleby a
rustic
?
Now
I
understand!’

‘And you’ll stand up with me?’

‘If my aunt permits!’ she replied demurely.

He smiled, pressed her hand fleetingly, and went back to the phaeton. Tiffany was so much delighted with his news that she was not only able to bear with equanimity the sight of him driving off with Patience beside him, but to chat merrily to Miss Trent about the treat in store all the way back to Staples.

Meanwhile, Lord Lindeth, driving Miss Chartley home at an easy pace, naturally told her that the waltz would be danced at the Colby Place ball. She was quite as much surprised as Tiffany had been, but she received the news very differently, saying wistfully: ‘I have never learnt to waltz, but I shall enjoy watching it.’

‘You could learn the steps in a trice,’ he assured her. ‘I know how well you dance, Miss Chartley! Any caper-merchant could teach you in one lesson! Why, I could do so myself – though I’m no dab at it! Do let me!’

She smiled gratefully at him, but said simply: ‘I don’t think Mama would permit it.’

‘Wouldn’t she? Not even when she knows Mrs Mickleby sanctions it?’

She shook her head, but closed her lips on speech. A lady of true quality, said Mama, did not puff off her consequence: any-thing of that nature belonged to the mushroom class! Mama never mentioned the matter, but she was far better bred than the Squire’s wife, and well did Patience know that she would be considerably affronted by any suggestion that she should accept Mrs Mickleby as a model.

‘Does she believe it to be an improper dance?’ asked Lindeth. ‘So too did my own mother, until she saw that it was no such thing. I shall see if I can’t persuade Mrs Chartley to relent! It would be too bad if you were obliged merely to
watch
it!’

‘I’m afraid you wouldn’t succeed,’ she said, thinking there was no real intention behind his words.

She was mistaken. When they reached the Rectory Lindeth entered it with her, and was soon engaged in coaxing Mrs Chartley, recovering from her indisposition on the sofa in her drawing-room, to revise her opinion of the fast German dance which had become the rage in London.

She was by no means impervious to his charm, but her sense of propriety was strict, and it is doubtful whether he would have prevailed upon her to relax it had he not received support from an unexpected quarter. The Rector, coming into the room and learning what was the subject under discussion, said that since the world began each generation had condemned the manners and customs of the next. For himself, he would not judge a dance he had never seen performed. Smiling kindly upon Julian, be invited him to show them the steps.

‘Mr Chartley!’ protested his wife, in half-laughing reproach.

‘I was very fond of dancing when I was young,’ said the Rector reminiscently. ‘Dear me, what dashers we were! Always up to the knocker, as you young people would say!’

That made them all laugh; and when he told his wife that while he hoped no child of his would ever pass the line he found he could not wish his daughter to be a dowdy, Mrs Chartley flung up her hands in mock dismay, and consented to postpone judgment. The end of it was that Julian was persuaded to give Patience her first lesson, ably assisted by Miss Jane Chartley, who not only bullied her shrinking elder sister into standing up with him, but volunteered to play the music. This she did with great aplomb, strongly marking the time, in a manner which made her startled mama wonder who had taught her to play waltzes. It was certainly not her rather prim governess.

Patience (like her father) was very fond of dancing, and as soon as she had overcome her nervousness she showed herself to be an apt pupil, a trifle stiff, when she found Lindeth’s arm round her for the first time, but quickly mastering the steps and the rhythm of the dance.

‘Bravo!’ applauded the Rector, gently clapping his hands. ‘Very pretty! Very pretty indeed!’

‘Oh, do you think so, Papa?’ Patience said eagerly. ‘I was dreadfully awkward, and kept missing my step! But, if you don’t think it indecorous, I-I should like to learn to do it correctly. It
is
so exhilarating!’

It was this impulsive utterance which made Mrs Chartley say, later: ‘My dear John, I marvel at your countenancing this most improper dance! When they went down the room together, with his left hand holding her right one above their heads,
his
right hand was
clasping her waist
!’

‘For guidance, my love!’ said the Rector. ‘Lindeth had no
amorous
intention! I saw nothing improper. Indeed, I should have wished to see Patience a trifle less unyielding – but I daresay she was awkward from ignorance!’

‘It’s my belief,’ said Mrs Chartley severely, ‘that you would like to dance the waltz yourself!’

‘No, no, not at my age!’ he said guiltily. A smile crept into his eyes. ‘But if it had been in fashion when I was a young man, and not, of course, in orders, I
should
have danced it – and with you, my love! Would
you
have disliked it?’

A dimple quivered in her cheek, but she said: ‘My mother would never have permitted such a thing. Do you, in all sincerity, expect me to permit Patience to – to twirl round a ballroom in a male embrace – for I can call it nothing less than that!’

‘You are the best judge of what she should do, my dear, and I must leave it to you to decide. I must own, however, that I should not wish to see Patience sitting against the wall while her friends are, as you phrase it, twirling round the room.’

‘No,’ agreed Mrs Chartley, forcibly struck by this aspect. ‘No, indeed!’

‘Far be it from me to desire her to outshine her friends,’ said the Rector unconvincingly, ‘but I have sometimes thought that although she cannot rival little Tiffany’s beauty she is by far the more graceful dancer.’

These words afforded his wife food for considerable thought. She could not be perfectly reconciled, but her resolution wavered. The reference to Tiffany, little though the Rector knew it, had operated powerfully upon her. She was not, she hoped, a worldly woman, but neither was she so saintly (or so unnatural a parent) as to be unmoved by the spectacle of her daughter’s being cast into the shade by an odiously precocious little baggage who was wild to a fault, as vain as she was beautiful, and wholly wanting in character and disposition. Mrs Chartley, in fact, did not like Tiffany Wield; and she had been thinking for some time that it was sad to see such a delightful young man as Lindeth in her toils. Heaven knew she was no matchmaking mother! Unlike certain of her husband’s parishioners, she had made not the smallest attempt to throw her child in his lordship’s way; but when she had watched him dancing with Patience the thought had flashed across her mind that they were a remarkably well-suited couple. Lindeth was just the sort of young man she would have chosen for Patience. It was one thing to make no push to engage his interest in the child, but quite another to throw obstacles in the way of his becoming better acquainted with her.

She was still in a state of indecision when the matter was clinched by an invitation to Patience from Mrs Underhill, to attend one or two morning dances at Staples, to practise the waltz.

‘Morning dances!’ she exclaimed. ‘Good gracious, what next?’

Patience, her eyes shining, and her cheeks in a glow, said: ‘It was Tiffany’s suggestion, Mama, and Miss Trent says it is quite true that they have become the fashion in London. Just to enable people to practise waltzes and quadrilles, you know. And she has undertaken to play for us, and tell us all how to waltz in the correct manner. Mama, nearly all my friends are going! And even Courtenay Underhill, and the Banninghams, and Arthur Mickleby are determined to learn! And Lord Lindeth and Mr Ash have been so obliging as to promise to come too, to show us the way. And Mrs Underhill will be present, and –’

‘My dear, how you do run on!’

‘I beg your pardon, ma’am! Only, may I go? Not if you dislike it – but
I should
like
to so very much!’

Mrs Chartley could not withstand such an appeal. ‘Well, my love, since your papa sees no harm in it, and the ball is to be a private one, not a public assembly, –’

‘Oh,
thank you
,
Mama!’ breathed Patience. ‘Now I can look forward to it, which I didn’t when I thought I should be obliged to sit down when the others were all dancing!’

‘No, that would never do,’ agreed Mrs Chartley, visualizing such a scene with profound disapprobation.

‘It is going to be a beautiful party!’ confided Patience. ‘There are to be coloured lamps in the garden, and – but this is a great secret, Mama, which Lizzie whispered to me! – a firework display at midnight!’

‘It’s to be hoped, then, that it doesn’t rain,’ said Mrs Chartley.

‘Oh, don’t suggest such a thing!’ begged Patience. ‘Mama, would you think it very extravagant if I were to purchase a new reticule for it? I’ve been to so many parties that mine is looking sadly shabby.’

‘No, not at all. You know, my dear, I have been thinking that if you were to bring back a length of satin from Leeds on Friday we could very easily make a fresh underdress for your gauze ball-dress. I never did like the green we chose. A soft shade of pink would become you. And if you can find some velvet ribbon to match it – How vexatious it is that I can’t go with you! But Dr Wibsey threatens me with all manner of evil consequences if I don’t continue to be invalidish until the end of the week at least, so if I am to take you to this ball next week I suppose I must do what he tells me. Well, you will have Miss Trent to advise you! Let yourself be guided by her: she has excellent taste!’

What with the dissipation of waltzing at Staples all one rainy morning, and the prospect of an orgy of spending in Leeds, attended by a nuncheon-party, it was in a festive mood that Patience awaited the arrival of the Staples carriage on Friday morning. She had arrayed herself for the occasion in her best walking-dress of figured muslin, with long sleeves, and a double flounce round the hem; on her head she wore a pretty straw bonnet, trimmed with flowers; on her feet sandals of tan kid; in one hand she held a small parasol; and in the other (very tightly) a stocking-purse containing the enormous largesse bestowed on her by her Mama. It seemed quite profligate to spend so much money on her adornment, for although the Rector had been born to an independence which enabled him to command the elegancies of life he had reared his children in habits of economy, and in the belief that it was wrong to set store by one’s appearance. ‘Going to waste your money on
more
finery?’ he had said, smiling, but disapproving too. ‘My dear sir,’ had said Mama, ‘you would not wish your daughter to be seen in worn-out slippers and soiled gloves, I hope!’ Afterwards she had explained the suppression of the pink satin and the velvet ribbon, saying in a confidential tone which made Patience feel suddenly very much more grown-up, that it was better not to talk to men about frills and furbelows, because they had no understanding of such things, and were merely bored by feminine chatter.

Miss Trent thought that she had seldom seen Patience in such good looks, and reflected that nothing became a girl so well as a glow of pleasurable excitement. She was inevitably dimmed by Tiffany, who was in great beauty, and wearing a dashing bonnet with a very high crown and a huge, upstanding poke framing her face, but there was something very taking about her countenance; and her eyes, though lacking the brilliance of Tiffany’s, held a particularly sweet expression.

The drive into Leeds, once Patience had won a spirited argument with Miss Trent on which of them really
preferred
to sit with her back to the horses, was accomplished in perfect amity. Tiffany took no part in a dispute which she felt to be no concern of hers, but she was very ready to discuss with her companions the various purchases she meant to make in the town, and to show a civil, if fleeting, interest in Patience’s more modest requirements. Being a considerable heiress she had a great deal of pin-money allowed her; and as, unlike Patience, she had not the smallest notion of economy, it was enough for her to see something that took her fancy to make her buy it immediately. Her drawers were crammed with the expensive spoils of her visits to Leeds or Harrogate, most of which she had decided did not become her, or which were not as pretty as she had at first thought them. They ranged from innumerable pairs of rosettes for slippers to a Spartan diadem which (mercifully) was found to make her look positively haggish; and included such
diverse items as an Angola shawl suitable for a dowager, a pair of Spanish slippers of sea-green kid, three muffs of spotted ermine, chinchilla, and swansdown, a tangle of spangled ribbon, and a set of head ornaments of silver filigree. She was obliged, at present, to apply to Mrs Underhill whenever she wanted to draw on her allowance. What would happen when she came into full possession of her fortune was a question which conjured up nightmarish visions in the mind of a conscientious governess; and Miss Trent had made persistent and extremely exhausting efforts to instil into her head some glimmerings of the value of money. She had failed, and as she was not one to fling her cap after the impossible there was nothing left for her to do but to check Tiffany’s extravagance by whatever means her ingenuity might suggest to her; and to excuse her failure by the reflection that the control of that volatile damsel’s inheritance would pass into the hands of her unknown but inevitable husband.

When they reached Leeds they alighted from the carriage at the King’s Arms, and set forth on foot down the main shopping street. Leeds was a thriving and rapidly expanding town, numbering amongst its public edifices two Cloth Halls (one of which was of impressive dimensions, and was divided into six covered streets); five Churches; a Moot Hall; the Exchange (a handsome building of octangular design); an Infirmary; a House of Recovery for persons afflicted with infectious diseases; a Charity school, clothing and educating upwards of a hundred children, and over which (had they but known it) Sir Waldo Hawkridge was, at the time of their arrival in the town, being escorted by several of the Governors; a number of cloth and carpet manufactories; several cotton mills, and foundries; inns innumerable; and half-a-dozen excellent posting-houses. The buildings were for the most part of red brick, beginning to be blackened by the smoke of industry; and while none could be thought magnificent there were several Squares and Parades which contained private residences of considerable elegance. There were some very good shops and silk warehouses; and it was not long before Miss Trent’s ingenuity was put to the test, Tiffany falling in love first with a pair of gold French shoe-buckles ornamented with paste; and next with a Surprise fan of crape, lavishly embellished with purple and gold devices. Miss Trent had never seen anything so exquisite as the buckles, and bemoaned the change in fashion which had made it impossible for anyone to wear them now without appearing perfectly Gothic. As for the fan, she agreed that it was a most amusing trifle: just what she would wish to buy for herself, if it had not been so excessively ugly!