Laurence stared at him. ‘If you’re trying to bamboozle me into believing that Julian ain’t dangling after that girl it’s you who have missed your tip, Waldo! You won’t tell me that he –’
‘The only thing I shall tell you,’ interposed Sir Waldo, ‘is that you’re after the fair! Oh, don’t look so affronted! Console yourself with the reflection that as little as I discuss Julian’s business with you do I discuss yours with him!’
He said no more, leaving Laurence puzzled and aggrieved. He had his own reasons for believing that Julian had been cured of his passing infatuation; but if Laurie, bent on detaching Tiffany, had not discovered that his young cousin now had his eyes turned towards a very different quarry so much the better, he thought, profoundly mistrusting Laurie’s mischief-making tongue. If Julian’s interest in Miss Chartley became fixed, nothing could more surely prejudice his mother against the match than to learn of it from Laurie. The first news of it must come from Julian himself; after which, he reflected wryly, it would be his task to reconcile the widow. She would be bitterly disappointed, but she was no fool, and must already have begun to doubt whether her cherished son would gratify her ambition by offering for any one of the damsels of rank, fortune, and fashion in whose way she had thrown him. She was also a most devoted parent; and once she had recovered from her initial chagrin Sir Waldo believed that she would very soon take the gentle Patience to her bosom. A pungent description of the beautiful Miss Wield would go a long way towards settling her mind.
For himself, he was much inclined to think that after his various tentative excursions Julian had found exactly the wife to suit him. Just as Patience differed from Tiffany, so did Julian’s courtship of her differ from his eager pursuit of Tiffany. He had begun with liking; his admiration had been kindled by the Leeds episode; and he was now, in Sir Waldo’s judgment, quietly and deeply in love. From such references to Patience as he from time to time let fall, his cousin gathered that she had every amiable quality, a well-informed mind, and a remarkable readiness to meet Julian’s ideas, and to share his every sentiment. Sir Waldo guessed that he was a frequent visitor at the Rectory, but there were none of the rides, picnics, and evening parties which had attended his transitory passion for Tiffany. Probably that was why Laurence seemed not to have realized that he had suffered a change of heart; no doubt Laurie supposed him to be in his elder cousin’s company when he found him missing from Broom Hall; and was misled by the innate civility which made him continue to call at Staples into thinking him still Tiffany’s worshipper.
It was during one of these morning visits that Julian learned that the al fresco ridotto which Tiffany had coaxed her aunt to hold in the gardens was to be postponed. Charlotte still continued to be languid and out of spirits; the doctor recommended a change of air and sea-bathing; so Mrs Underhill was going to take her to Bridlington, where she had a cousin living with his wife in retirement. She explained apologetically to Lindeth, and to Arthur Mickleby, whom Lindeth had found kicking his heels in the Green Saloon, that she hoped they wouldn’t be vexed, but she didn’t feel able for a ridotto when Charlotte was so poorly. Both young men expressed their regrets, and said everything that was polite; and Arthur reminded Mrs Underhill, in a heartening way, of how he had been taken to Bridlington after the measles, and how quickly he had plucked up there.
In the middle of this speech Tiffany came in wearing her driving-dress, and with Laurence at her heels. ‘Bridlington? Who is going to that stupid place?’ she demanded. She extended a careless hand to Lindeth. ‘How do you do? I haven’t seen you this age! Oh, Arthur, have you been waiting for me? Mr Calver has been teaching me how to loop a rein. You are not going to Bridlington, are you? It is the dullest, horridest place imaginable! Why don’t you go to Scarborough?’
‘’Tisn’t me, it’s Charlotte,’ explained Arthur. ‘I was telling Mrs Underhill, how much good it did me when I was in queer stirrups.’
‘Oh, Charlotte! Poor Charlotte! I daresay it will be the very thing for her. When does she go, ma’am?’
‘Well, my dear, I believe I’ll take her this week,’ said Mrs Underhill nervously. ‘There’s no sense in keeping her here, so low and dragged as she is, and Cousin Matty for ever begging me to pay her a visit, and to bring Charlotte along with me. I’ve been asking his lordship’s pardon, and Arthur’s too, for being obliged to put off the ridotto.’
‘Put off my ridotto!’ exclaimed Tiffany. ‘Oh, no ! You can’t mean to be so cruel, ma’am!’
‘I’m sure I’m as sorry as I can be, love, but you can’t have a party without I’m here, now, can you? It wouldn’t be seemly.’
‘But you must be here, aunt! Send Nurse with Charlotte, or Ancilla! Oh, pray do!’
‘I couldn’t be easy in my mind, letting the poor lamb go without me, and I wouldn’t have the heart for a ridotto, nor any kind of party. But there’s no need to get into a fidget, love, for I don’t mean to stay above a sennight – that is, not if Charlotte’s going on well, and don’t dislike to be left with Cousin George and Cousin Matty, which I daresay she won’t. But she made me promise her I’d go with her, and so I did. Not that I intended otherwise.’
‘How can she be so abominably selfish?’ cried Tiffany, flushing. ‘Making you go away when she knows that I need you! Depend upon it, she did it for spite, just to spoil my ridotto!’
Arthur looked rather startled, but it was Lindeth who inter-posed, saying: ‘It is very natural that she should wish for her mama, don’t you think?’
‘No!’ Tiffany replied crossly. ‘For she would as lief have Ancilla! Oh, I know! Ancilla shall be hostess in your stead, aunt! Famous! We shall do delightfully!’
But Mrs Underhill was steadfast in refusing to entertain this suggestion. Observing the rising storm signals in Tiffany’s eyes, she sought to temper the disappointment by promising to hold the ridotto as soon as she returned from Bridlington; but this only made Tiffany stamp her foot, and declare that she hated put-offs, and marvelled that her aunt should be taken in by Charlotte’s nonsense. ‘For my part, I believe she could be perfectly stout if she chose! She is putting on airs to be interesting, which I think quite odious, and so I shall tell her!’
‘Here!’ protested Arthur, shocked. ‘That’s coming it a bit strong! I beg pardon, but – but you shouldn’t say that!’ He added haltingly: ‘And although I should have enjoyed it, there – there are several people who don’t take to the notion. Well – Mrs Chartley won’t permit Patience to come, and, as a matter of fact – Mama won’t let my sisters either. Not to a moonlight party in the gardens!’
‘There! if I didn’t say it wasn’t the thing!’ exclaimed Mrs Underhill.
‘Who cares whether they come or not?’ said Tiffany scorn-fully. ‘If they choose to be stuffy, I promise you I don’t!’
Arthur reddened, and got up to take his leave. Mrs Underhill, acutely embarrassed, pressed his hand warmly, and gave him a speaking look; but Tiffany turned her shoulder on him, saying that he was quite as stuffy as his sisters.
‘I must be going too, ma’am,’ Lindeth said. ‘Pray tell Charlotte how sorry I am to hear that she’s so much pulled, and tell her to take care she don’t get her toes pinched by a crab when she goes sea-bathing!… Are you coming, Laurie?’
‘Oh, don’t wait for me! I have been thinking, Miss Wield, if we might perhaps get up a party to dance at one of the Assemblies in Harrogate – instead of the ridotto. Would you countenance it, ma’am? With Miss Trent, of course, or some older lady, if any might be persuaded?’
Tiffany’s eyes lit up, but Mrs Underhill looked dismayed, and faltered: ‘Oh, dear! No, no, don’t suggest it, Mr Calver, for it’s the very thing Mr Burford – that’s Tiffany’s uncle, and her guardian, you know – don’t wish for! Because she ain’t out yet and he won’t have her going to public dances, for which, of course, he can’t be blamed.’
‘It wasn’t he,
but Aunt Burford!’ said Tiffany. ‘The greatest beast in nature! Why shouldn’t I go to an Assembly in Harrogate? I will go, I will!’
Lindeth went quietly away, hearing the storm break behind him. Miss Trent was coming down the stairs, and paused, looking enquiringly at him. ‘How do you do? Tell me at once! The ridotto?’
He burst out laughing. ‘Well, yes! Coupled with Mrs Underhill’s saying she might not go to a Harrogate Assembly.’
Miss Trent closed her eyes for an anguished moment. ‘I see. How prudent of you to slip away, sir! Would that I could do so too! She will sulk for days!’
Fourteen
That Tiffany refrained from sulking was due to Miss Trent, who waited only until they were alone in the room to utter words which provided her with food for reflection. She said cheerfully that she did not wonder at it that Tiffany was bored with her admirers, but that she thought she might have chosen a better way of being rid of them. Tiffany stared at her.
‘Nothing, of course, makes a gentleman retire more quickly than a fit of the tantrums; but you should recollect that a reputation for being ill-tempered would be most prejudicial to your success. As for being rude and unkind to your aunt – indeed, Tiffany, I had not thought you such a wet-goose! What will become of you if you drive off all your admirers?’
‘I d-don’t! I c-couldn’t !’ Tiffany stammered.
‘It can be done more easily than you know,’ replied Ancilla. ‘You have accomplished it with Lord Lindeth; and, unless I am much mistaken, we shan’t see Arthur Mickleby at Staples for some time to come. Your aunt tells me that you spoke slightingly of his sisters. How stupid of you, Tiffany! and how dreadfully ill-bred! How came you to do such a thing?’
‘I don’t care! I only said they were stuffy, and they are! And I don’t care a button for Arthur either! And I didn’t drive Lindeth off ! I didn’t ! He’s jealous, because his cousin is teaching me to drive! I have only to smile at him – How dare you look like that? I tell you –’
‘You will be wasting your breath,’ interrupted Miss Trent. ‘Try to believe that I am rather more up to snuff than you! I am, you know. Don’t glare at me! When your aunt Burford engaged me to be your companion, she particularly desired me to teach you how to go on in society, and if I didn’t warn you that your conduct lately has been such as to give people a disgust of you, I should be failing in my duty.’
‘Disgust! Of me ? It’s not true!’ Tiffany gasped, white with rage.
‘If you will stop preening yourself on your beauty, and allow yourself the indulgence of a few moments’ reflection, I think you must realize that it is true,’ responded Miss Trent. ‘Before you began to fancy yourself to be a Nonpareil beyond criticism you were used to take care not to fly into unbecoming rages when any stranger was present; but during these past weeks you have grown to be so puffed up in your own conceit that you seem to think you may go your unbridled length and still command everyone’s admiration. Well, you were never more mistaken! That is all I have to say to you – and I’ve said it only because I can’t reconcile it with my conscience not to warn you to mend your ways.’
She then opened a book, and apparently became so absorbed in it that the furious tirade directed at her did not cause her to betray by the flicker of an eyelid that she heard a word of it. Tiffany slammed out of the room, and was not seen again until she came down to dinner; but as she then seemed to be in her softest mood, even speaking affectionately to Charlotte, and politely to her aunt, Miss Trent was encouraged to suppose that her words had not failed of their intended effect. Towards her, Tiffany adopted a manner of frigid disdain, which had not abated by the following morning, when she refused every offer made by her companion to minister to her entertainment. So Miss Trent, unabashed, left her to her own devices, or (as she suspected) to the attentions of Mr Calver, and seized the opportunity to pay a call on Mrs Chartley, with a copy of the recipe for pickling white mushrooms tucked into her reticule. Charlotte was fretful, and would not go with her, so she went to the village alone, and, having delivered a large parcel at the Crown, to be picked up by the carrier, drove the gig into the Rectory stable-yard.
She found Mrs Chartley in her morning-parlour, and received the usual kind welcome from her. Mrs Chartley thanked her for the recipe, enquired after Charlotte, and, when Ancilla would have taken her leave, begged her to sit down for a few minutes.
‘I am very glad to see you, Miss Trent,’ she said, ‘because I fancy you can perhaps answer a question which is teasing me a good deal.’ She smiled. ‘Rather an odd question, you may think – but I know I may depend upon your discretion.’
‘Certainly you may, ma’am.’
Mrs Chartley hesitated. ‘Yes. If I did not – Miss Trent, I find myself in a quandary! I daresay you are aware that Lord Lindeth is growing extremely particular in his attentions to Patience?’
‘I wasn’t aware of it, ma’am. I have been constantly with Charlotte, you know. But I am not at all surprised. He always liked her, and I have frequently thought that he and Miss Chartley might have been made for one another. I hope you don’t dislike it? I have a great regard for Lord Lindeth – as far as I know him – and I believe him to be really worthy of Miss Chartley.’
‘No. No, I don’t dislike it – though I own to some feelings of doubt at the outset. He appeared to me to be violently in love with Tiffany, which argues a volatility I cannot like.’
‘I had rather say that he was dazzled by her, as so many have been. He might have loved her if her disposition had matched her face, which, alas, it does not! You are thinking that the change in his sentiments was very sudden, but I fancy he began to be disillusioned quite early in their acquaintance. There were several occasions when – But I should not be talking of them!’
‘You need not scruple to speak frankly: if her conduct at Leeds is anything to judge by, I can readily understand Lindeth’s disillusionment. But to turn so soon from Tiffany to Patience does disquiet me! The Rector, however, sets very little store by it. Indeed, he seems to think it perfectly natural that a young man, when he is ripe for falling in love (as he puts it), should transfer his affection to another, when he finds he has mistaken his own heart. It seems very odd to me, but I am well aware, of course, that men are odd, even the best of them!’
‘And Miss Chartley, ma’am?’ Ancilla said, smiling.
‘I am very much afraid that she is in danger of forming a lasting attachment,’ replied Mrs Chartley, with a sigh. ‘She is not volatile, you know, and if he were again to discover that he had mistaken his heart –’
‘Forgive me!’ Ancilla interposed. ‘I collect that you believe Lindeth to be fickle. But I have been a great deal in his company, and I have had the opportunity to observe his infatuation. As I have said, it might have deepened into love, but it never did so. And – I do assure you, ma’am, that it would have been wonderful indeed if an ardent young man, having at that time formed no real attachment, had not succumbed to Tiffany’s beauty, and to the encouragement he received from her.’
Mrs Chartley’s face lightened a little. ‘So the Rector says. I own, there is no infatuation in question now. I don’t leave them alone together, I need hardly say, but even if I allowed my daughter the license Tiffany has I am persuaded Lindeth would not flirt with her. Indeed, I have been agreeably surprised in him! Under the gaiety which makes his manners so taking, there is a strong vein of seriousness. He feels as he ought on all important subjects, and the tone of his mind is particularly nice.’
‘But in spite of this you do not wish for the connection, ma’am?’ Ancilla asked, a little puzzled.
‘My dear, a very strange creature I should be if I did not wish for such an advantageous connection for my daughter! If he is sincere, nothing would please me more than to see her so well-established. But although they are not unequal in birth they are unequal in consequence. Nor is Patience an heiress. She will
have some four thousand pounds, but that, though it is a respectable portion, might be thought paltry by Lindeth’s family. From things he has let fall, about disliking ton parties, and being the despair of his mother – in his funning way, you know! – I suspect that the family wish him to make what is called a brilliant marriage, and might be strongly opposed to his marriage to a country clergyman’s daughter.’ She paused, and rather aimlessly shifted the position of a book lying on the table at her elbow. ‘I had fancied that Sir Waldo had been his guardian, but I understand this was not the case. At the same time, there can be no doubt that he has stood in much that position. Nor that his influence over Lindeth is great. That, my dear Miss Trent, is why I have been anxious to have the opportunity of talking to you. If there is any fear that Sir Waldo might exert himself to prevent the marriage – even if he should merely dislike it – I would not upon any account continue to permit Lindeth to visit us as he now does. Neither the Rector nor I would countenance the alliance if it had not the approbation of Lindeth’s family. You will understand, I am persuaded, why I am in a quandary, and why I made up my mind to admit you into my confidence. Tell me! What are Sir Waldo’s sentiments upon this occasion?’
Miss Trent felt her colour rising, but she responded in a steady voice: ‘I am honoured by your confidence, ma’am, but Sir Waldo has not taken me into his. I wish I might be able to help you, but it is not in my power.’
Mrs Chartley raised her eyes, directing a slightly sceptical look at her. ‘If that is so, there is no more to be said, of course. I ventured to put the question to you because I know you to be far better acquainted with him than anyone else in the district.’
There was silence for a few moments. Then Miss Trent drew a breath, and said: ‘I have been obliged to be a good deal in his company, ma’am, but I do not stand upon such intimate terms with him as – as you seem to suggest.’ She managed to smile. ‘My sins have found me out! I allowed myself to be persuaded to accept Lady Colebatch’s invitation, and was imprudent enough to waltz with Sir Waldo, twice. I have been made to regret it. I’m afraid the pleasure of dancing again, after such a long time, went to my head!’