‘Well, it won’t make a ha’porth of odds if he does!’ said Sir Bonamy, accepting without resentment this unflattering reason for the marriage proposed to him, but regarding his prospective bride with tolerant cynicism. ‘I might have known that resty young bellows-blower of yours was behind this!’
‘Yes, but how fortunate, Bonamy, that my affairs had come to such a pass that I was obliged to consider the advantages of marrying you! But for that I might never have thought of it!’ she said. ‘Or have perceived how much more comfortable I should be if I did marry you! It is all very well now to be a widow, but only think how dismal when I begin to grow hagged, and have to cover up my throat, because it looks exactly like the neck of a plucked hen, and I’ve no flirts left to me! And then, of course, I thought of you, my poor Bonamy, and my heart was wrung! I, at least, have my beloved sons, and I might become wrapped up in my grandchildren – though it seems most unlikely, and quite sinks my spirits – but what, my dear, will be left to you, when your friends drop off –’
‘Eh?’ exclaimed Sir Bonamy, startled.
‘Or die!’ continued her ladyship inexorably. ‘And you find yourself alone, with no one to care a straw what becomes of you – except that odious cousin of yours, who will very likely push you into your grave! – and your whole life wasted? Dear Bonamy I cannot endure the thought of it!’
‘No!’ he said fervently. ‘No, indeed!’
She smiled brilliantly upon him. ‘So you see that it will be much better for you too!’
‘Yes,’ he agreed, horrified by the picture she had delineated. ‘Good God, yes!’
Twenty
It was not many minutes before Cressy, dutifully accompanying the Dowager on a sedate drive, realized that an open carriage was hardly the place for an exchange of confidences. The Dowager, with a magnificent disregard for the coachman and the footman, perched on the box-seat in front of her, knew no such reticence, and discoursed with great freedom on the birth of an heir to the barony, animadverting with embarrassing candour, and all the contempt of a matriarch who had brought half-a-dozen children into the world without fuss or complications, on sickly young women who fancied themselves to be ill days before their time, and ended by suffering cross births and hard labours. For herself, she had no patience with such nonsense.
But although she expressed the fervent hope that the heir would not grow up to resemble his mama, it was evident that Albinia (in spite of her hard labour) had grown considerably in her esteem. Lord Stavely’s first wife had been of the Dowager’s choosing, but although she had, naturally, held her up as a pattern of virtue and amiability, she had never been able, in her secret heart, to forgive her for having failed to present her lord with an heir. But Albinia, whom Lord Stavely had married without so much as a by-your-leave, had produced (if his lordship’s ecstatically scribbled letter were to be believed), a bouncing boy, sound in wind and limb, and weighing almost nine pounds; and this feat, notwithstanding her own subsequent exhaustion, raised her pretty high in the Dowager’s esteem. But not so high as to exempt her from censure for her alleged inability to nurse her child. The inescapable duty of a mother to suckle her offspring was one of the Dowager’s hobby-horses; and originated from the shocking discovery that the wet-nurse engaged to supply the wants of her second son (unhappily deceased), had been strongly addicted to spirituous liquors. The Dowager informed her granddaughter, in a very robust way, that she had already written to recommend hot ale and ginger to Albinia.
Cressy bore this with tolerable equanimity, but when the Dowager abruptly deserted the subject of the proper sustenance of the Honourable Edward John Francis Stavely, to warn her that the appearance of this young gentleman on the scene made it imperative for her to withdraw from Mount Street to an establishment of her own, she laid a hand on her outspoken grandmother’s knee, and warningly directed her attention to the stolid, liveried backs on the box of the landaulet.
The Dowager appeared to appreciate the propriety of this reminder. She said: ‘Drat these open carriages! I never could abide ’em! Coachman! Drive back to Ravenhurst!’
She reinforced this command by digging him in the back with her cane, an indignity which he suffered with perfect good humour, having decided, days previously, that she was a rare old griffin, full of pluck, and game to the scratch.
‘I want to talk to you, Cressy,’ she said grimly. ‘It’s high time you emptied the bag! So we’ll go back, and you’ll come with me to my room, and give me a round tale before I take my nap!’
‘Yes, ma’am: certainly!’ responded Cressy, with smiling composure.
The Dowager favoured her with a searching glance, but refrained from comment. She beguiled the rest of the drive with roseate plans for the future Lord Stavely’s career, in which agreeable occupation she was much encouraged by Cressy; but although this put her in great good humour, it was with marked asperity that she commanded Cressy, as soon as she had removed her sable-plumed bonnet, and sunk into the winged chair, thoughtfully placed in her bedroom by her hostess, to declare herself, and without any roundaboutation.
‘And don’t put on any simpering, missish airs, girl, for I abominate ’em!’ she added sharply.
‘Now, that, Grandmama, is most unjust!’ said Cressy, in deeply injured accents. ‘I have a great many faults, but I am not a simpering miss!’
‘No,’ acknowledged the Dowager, always mollified by a fearless retort, ‘you’re not! Come here, child!’
Cressy obeyed her, sinking down at her feet, and folding her hands with a meekness belied by the twinkling look she cast up at her formidable grandparent. ‘Yes, ma’am?’ she said innocently.
‘Baggage!’ said the Dowager, in no way deceived, but palliating the severity of this remark by pinching Cressy’s cheek. ‘Now, you listen to me, girl! You’ll find that this brat of Albinia’s has put your nose out of joint, so, if you take my advice, you’ll bring all this paltering of yours to an end, and accept Denville’s offer. I said I wouldn’t press you, and I stand by my word; but I know Albinia, and I tell you to your head that if you found her hard to deal with before she gave birth to a son you’ll find her insupportable now that she’s puffed up in her own conceit! What’s more, she won’t rest until she’s rid of you: make up your mind to that! As for your father, he’s fond of you, but he won’t take your part: he’s a weak man – none of my sons ever had an ounce of spunk between them! Took after their father, more’s the pity! Bag and baggage policy was all you could look for in any of ’em.’
‘Well, I shouldn’t wish Papa to take my part, ma’am – or, rather, I know that it would be very improper to encourage him to do so!’
‘It wouldn’t fadge if you did. If Albinia ain’t a shrew I’m much mistaken!’
‘Impossible!’ Cressy said, laughing at her.
The Dowager’s fierce eyes gleamed, but she said: ‘None of your impudence, miss! Not that I’m often mistaken, for I haven’t lived to be an old woman without learning to know one point more than the devil, as they say.’ Her eyes softened, as she looked down into Cressy’s face. ‘Never mind that! I’ve more fondness for you than for anyone, child, and I want to see you established, and happy. I told you at the outset I set no store by Denville’s rank or fortune, and no more I would have, if I’d discovered him to be the frippery young care-for-nobody Brumby thinks him. Not but what he’s a prize catch, and has had ’em all on the scramble for him ever since his come-out! However, I’ve lived long enough to know that it ain’t by any means everything to land a big fish, and not a word of censure would you have heard from me, Cressy, if you’d had a preference for some lesser gentleman – provided, of course, that his birth matched your own, and he was up to the rig!’
‘You like him, don’t you, Grandmama?’ said Cressy.
‘Yes, I do – not that it signifies! A very proper man, I call him, and one that knows what’s o’clock, an
d ain’t afraid to look one in the face, and give one back as good as he gets!’ the Dowager replied, with a dry chuckle. ‘No want of proper spunk in him, for all his engaging manners! But what I want to know, my girl, is whether you like him?’
‘Oh, yes! I think everyone does,’ Cressy responded. ‘He is very charming!’
‘I’d a notion you thought so!’ remarked the Dowager caustically.
‘Oh, I do! But I am not very well-acquainted with him yet, you know,’ said Cressy pensively.
‘I know nothing of the sort!’ declared the Dowager, staring down at her under frowning brows. ‘Pray, how much better acquainted with him do you expect to be, miss?’
‘Much better, ma’am! But however well-acquainted with him I may be I shall never marry him!’
‘Well, upon my word!’ uttered the Dowager, her eyes snapping. ‘Have you taken leave of your senses, girl, or are you no better than a common flirt? You’ve lived in his pocket above a sennight – smelling of April and May, the pair of you! and very well pleased I’ve been to see it! I wasn’t in favour of the match at the outset, and I know very well you were of two minds, Cressy! Which was why I brought you here! I’ll thank you to tell me why, if you was ready enough to accept his offer at the outset, you’ve changed your mind! What, in heaven’s name, do you look for in your husband, wet-goose? As handsome a young man as I’ve clapped eyes on this many a day, with a well-formed person, excellent style, easy manners, an address many an older man might envy, superior understanding, and a smile I could not have withstood when I was a girl, and you choose to turn niffy-naffy! Good God, Cressy, have you windmills in your head? You told me you had made up your mind to a marriage de convenance, but if you don’t know he’s nutty upon you, you’re no better than a moonling, and I wash my hands of you!’
Cressy, a mixture of guilt and amusement in her face, possessed herself of one of these hands, and nursed it to her cheek. ‘Indeed I’m not a moonling, Grandmama!’ she said, her voice quivering on the edge of laughter. ‘I told you the truth, moreover! I did think that such a marriage would be preferable to remaining in Mount Street, and Denville never pretended that he felt any warmer affection for me than I felt for him! As for being nutty upon me, he never was, and never will be! Which I am heartily glad of, dear ma’am, because I tumbled quite – quite desperately in love with his brother, and he is the man I am going to marry, whatever you, or Papa, or anyone may say!’
The Dowager’s claw-like hand closed on hers like a vice. ‘What?’ she demanded. ‘Denville’s brother?’
Cressy raised glowing eyes to hers. ‘His brother, Grandmama. You have never met Denville. Kit is so like him that even I was deceived at first! But there is no comparison! I – I felt the difference when he came to Mount Street in Denville’s place, to meet you; and that was why I was willing to come here with you!’ She drew the Dowager’s twisted hand to her mouth, and kissed it. ‘You will perceive the difference, because you’re so wise, ma’am, and so discerning! Oh, I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to know that you think so well of Kit!’
‘You’re out!’ interrupted the Dowager harshly, snatching her hand away. ‘Jackanapes!’ she uttered, her jaws working. ‘So he’s been making a May game of me, has he? A more impudent imposture I never heard of, not in all my days!’
Cressy smiled lovingly at her. ‘You will discover him to be in perfect agreement with you, ma’am, for that is precisely what he thinks. He entered into it against his will, and would have escaped from it had you not proposed this visit to Lady Denville! I must try to make you understand the circumstances – the bond that exists between him and Denville! But I am much inclined to think that no one who was not born a twin could wholly understand the – the strength of that bond!’
‘What I understand, and without difficulty, is that he’s a cozening rascal who knows just how to bring you round his finger, nickninny!’ retorted the Dowager, in no way appeased.
‘Well, he hasn’t tried to do so, but I haven’t the least doubt that he could!’ admitted Cressy, unabashed. ‘I have no more knowledge than you, Grandmama, of what it means to be a twin, but I collect that, if they are as close as Kit and Evelyn, each knows when the other is in trouble, or has suffered a physical injury; and neither would hesitate, no matter what the cost, to fly to the other’s rescue. It seems,’ she said slowly, knitting her brows, ‘that they can’t help but do so!’
‘Does it indeed?’ snorted the Dowager. ‘Well, perhaps you’ll explain to me, my girl, what trouble Denville was in which caused his brother to practise this abominable cheat!’
‘Yes, indeed I will, ma’am!’ Cressy said, with disarming readiness. She chuckled. ‘It is quite fantastic, you know, but for my part I have never enjoyed anything more in my life! Only a Fancot could have embarked on such a crazy adventure – and only Kit could have carried it with such a high hand! He doesn’t want for proper spunk, Grandmama!’
‘Cut no wheedles for my benefit!’ commanded the Dowager. ‘A round tale is all I wish to hear!’
It was not quite a round tale which Cressy, disposing herself more comfortably at her knee, recounted, for it underwent certain expurgations; but it was true in all its essentials, and the Dowager listened to it in silence. It could not have been said that there was any relaxing in her countenance; but she appeared, several times, to be afflicted with a tic, which twitched the muscles in her cheek; and once, when Cressy, knowing her love of a salted story, ventured to describe the encounter with Mrs Alperton, she was seized by a choking fit, which, glaring at her granddaughter, she ascribed to asthma. But when the tale was told she declared that a more disgraceful one she had never heard, adding shrewdly: ‘I notice that that pretty, silly gadabout whom you choose to call your dearest Godmama don’t figure in it! Trying to put the change on me, ain’t you? You may hang up your axe, Cressy! I’m not a pea-goose, and never was, so if you mean to tell me she wasn’t at the back of it, spare your breath!’
‘Why, of course she was, ma’am!’ said Cressy, all wide-eyed innocence. ‘It was her notion that Kit should take Evelyn’s place just for that one evening, and to save his face! Surely I told you so?’
‘Ay! You told me!’ said the Dowager sardonically. ‘What you haven’t told me is why it was so mightily important to Denville to have the Trust wound up!’
‘But can you wonder at it, Grandmama? Only think how irksome it must be to him!’
‘Don’t talk flummery to me, girl!’ said the Dowager irascibly. ‘I have it on the best of authority that his revenues don’t bring him a penny less than £16,000 a year, and Henry Brumby told me himself that his debts were paid out of the estate when his father died!’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘His mother’s debts, eh? You needn’t put yourself to the trouble of denying it! It’s common knowledge she’s been at a standstill these dozen years and more! Means to settle ’em, does he? Well, I don’t think the worse of him for that, but what such a caper-witted, fly-away wastethrift has ever done to deserve so much devotion I shall never know, if I live to be a hundred!’ Her crooked fingers worked amongst the folds of her silken shirt. Cressy said nothing; and after a moment or two, she brought her piercing gaze back to the girl’s face. ‘A pretty piece of business you’ve made of it, between you!’ she said scathingly. ‘Understand me, miss! I’ll have no scandal attached to our name! Good God, it must be common knowledge by now that you stand upon the brink of an engagement to Denville! What do you imagine your father will have to say, when he learns of this?’
‘He will await your decision, Grandmama,’ Cressy answered calmly. ‘You know that as surely as I do! I hope it may be in my favour – in Kit’s favour! – because I love you both, and to marry without your approval couldn’t but throw a cloud over my happiness.’ She raised her eyes, giving the Dowager look for look. ‘But in less than a twelvemonth, ma’am, I shall come of age, and neither you nor Papa will have the power to prevent my mar
riage to Kit!’
‘If,’ said the Dowager, after a pregnant silence, ‘I had ever dared to speak so to my grandmother, I should have been soundly whipped, and confined to my bedchamber on bread-and-water for a sennight!’
The gravity vanished from Cressy’s face. ‘No, would you, ma’am? How very brave your parents must have been!’
‘Hussy!’ said the Dowager, putting up her hand to hide her quivering mouth. ‘Don’t think you can come over me with your impertinence! Pull the bell! I am out of all patience with you, and fagged to death as well! Look at the time! I should have been laid down on my bed half-an-hour ago! Not an hour left before I shall be obliged to rig myself out for dinner, and not a wink of sleep shall I get, thanks to you, you ungrateful, abandoned, unnatural baggage! Go away! And don’t flatter yourself that you’ve won my support, because you haven’t!’
Retiring discreetly from the presence, Cressy closed her eyes in momentary thankfulness, before running down the stairs in search of Mr Fancot. Admirably though she had concealed it, it had been with considerable trepidation that she had admitted the Dowager into the secret of the hoax practised upon her. The result of her disclosure had, so far, been more hopeful than she had allowed herself to expect. At no time had she indulged her fancy with the thought that her tyrannical grandparent would instantly bestow her blessing on a union which, besides being undeniably inferior to the one first submitted for her approval, bore all the signs of being attended by exactly the sort of scandalous on-dits which were most obnoxious to a high-bred dame of her age and generation; she had rather entertained a lively fear that the Dowager would fly into a towering rage, which might even impel her to sweep herself and her granddaughter off to Worthing that very day. She had certainly, and justifiably, taken a violent pet; but, to Cressy’s experienced eye, no thought of proceeding to extremes had so much as crossed her mind. Even more significantly (and very much to Cressy’s relief), she had not instantly summoned her hostess to account for her perfidy. Instead, and in a querulous voice which belonged to a vexed and bewildered old lady rather than to an infuriated despot, she had abused her erring granddaughter, not for having lent herself to a disgraceful hoax, but for having caused her to�lose half-an-hour’s sleep. Grandmama, thought Cressy shrewdly, wanted time for reflection; and that circumstance alone was enough to encourage optimism in the initiated. The battle was by no means won; Grandmama might yet prove hard to handle; but she had undoubtedly been amused by certain aspects of the outrageous story unfolded to her; and equally undoubtedly she had taken a strong fancy to Mr Christopher Fancot. In Cressy’s judgement, all now depended upon that resourceful gentleman’s ability to discover a discreet way of extricating himself and her from a situation which gave every promise of affording the ton matter for unlimited gossip and conjecture.