Джорджетт Хейер - Cotillion

“No, indeed!” Olivia sighed.

“I could not do it. In fact, I would liefer by far die unwed!”

“Would you?” said Olivia wistfully. “But, then, dear Miss Charing, our circumstances are so different! You have all the comfort and consequence of fortune—”

“No, I assure you I have not! I am wholly dependant upon the generosity of my guardian! I do not exaggerate when I say that I have not a penny in the world!”

“Yes, but your guardian is rich, is he not? Mama, you see, is not rich at all, and I have three sisters,” said Olivia unanswerably. “I must be married. Oh, how vexed Mama would be if she was obliged to take me home again, and all the money she saved for this visit spent to no purpose!”

She looked so really frightened that Kitty said quickly: ‘ ‘Of course you will be married, and to a man you can esteem, too! Good gracious, don’t tell me you have not a great many admirers already, for I shall certainly not believe you! Indeed, I think everyone who sees you must admire you, for you are by far the prettiest girl in London!”

Olivia coloured, and averted her face. “Don’t—pray! Gentlemen do sometimes admire me, but—but they do not offer to marry me. Situated as I am—the manners of my cousins—so very free!—I have met with a want of propriety in—in some whom I believed to be so very gentlemanly!”

“I know what you mean, I daresay,” said Kitty, wisely, but in blissful ignorance of Miss Broughty’s meaning. “You are now and then judged by your company, and you find yourself treated with that kind of high-bred insolence which I have frequently noticed in London, and which I do not consider high-bred at all, but, on the contrary, excessively ill-bred!” She added frankly: “Forgive me, but I could not but notice that you were not quite pleased to meet Mr. Westruther in Berkeley Square! If you should have thought that he was not civil to you when you met him previously, I assure you he does not mean to offend! He has sometimes a little height in his manner: Lady Buckhaven rallies him on it, saying he sets up people’s backs. He is never formal, you know—indeed, I fancy he treats no one with particular distinction!”

“Oh, no!” breathed Olivia. “I did not mean—I should not have mentioned—Such a very distinguished man! His air and address so exactly—” She broke off in confusion, and quickly directed Kitty’s attention to a clump of purple crocuses.

Some inkling of the truth began to dawn on Kitty. It was apparent to her that the magnificence of Mr. Westruther had had its inevitable effect upon Miss Broughty. She did not wonder at it; she would indeed have found it hard to believe that any female could be ten minutes in Mr. Westruther’s company without falling under the spell of his charm. But her sojourn in London, short though it had been, had convinced her that those who called Jack a shocking flirt spoke no less than the truth. It was, of course, reprehensible, but the failing did not diminish his charm: rather, it added to it, Kitty admitted to herself, a little guiltily. Nor was it just, she thought, to censure him too heavily, for the many ladies who blatantly set their caps at him gave him every encouragement to persist in his evil ways. But Kitty had quite a shrewd head on her shoulders, for all her country innocence, and somewhere, at the very back of her mind, not consciously acknowledged, lurked the conviction that Jack woxdd never marry to his own disadvantage. None knew better than she what havoc he could create in female breasts; it would be dreadful if he (unwittingly, of course) scarred Olivia’s tender heart. She said impulsively: “Yes, Freddy—Mr. Standen—

calls him a buck of the first head! He is precisely the hero every schoolroom-miss dreams about—as I have told him! I have known him all my life, you must understand: we have been as cousins.”

“Yes,” Olivia said, still with her eyes fixed on the crocuses. “I collected, when he came in—I was not previously aware of the relationship.”

“Oh, in fact there is none!” Kitty interrupted. “I call all my guardian’s great-nephews my cousins! Yes, what a splendid patch of colour, to be sure! Another day will see them in full bloom, but we shall take cold if we stand still in this sharp wind!” They walked on, the path soon leading them to the promenade flanking the carriage-way. It was not long before a most unwelcome sight assailed Miss Broughty’s eyes. She said, under her breath: “Sir Henry Gosford! I implore you, dear Miss Charing, do not desert me!”

Kitty had not the smallest intention of deserting her, being wholly unacquainted with the tactics adopted by her cousins, the Misses Scorton; but she had no time to reassure her: that time-worn beau, Sir Henry Gosford, had already swept off his hat, and was executing a bow before them. “Venus, with Attendant Nymph!” he uttered.

An involuntary gurgle of mirth drew his eyes toxvards the Attendant Nymph. He raised his quizzing-glass with an air of hauteur, but speedily allowed it to fall again. No quizzingglass, however magnifying its lens, could avail against Miss Charing’s clear, unwavering gaze. From the crown of his jauntily-poised beaver to the toes of his polished boots, Miss Charing surveyed him, critically, but with indulgence. For a horrid moment it seemed to him that she detected the tight corsets he wore; and knew that the glowing chestnut hue of his curled and oiled locks could only be ascribed to the exertions of his barber. In the agitation of this moment, he failed to assimilate the introduction stammeringly performed by Miss Broughty. A lifetime of self-satisfaction came to his rescue; he realized that the Attendant Nymph’s rapt gaze could only spring from admiration of so complete a Bond Street Lounger; favoured her with a nod, and a smile not pronounced enough to disturb the maquillage which so cleverly hid the wrinkles in his face, and turned his attention to Miss Broughty. “Fair Amaryllis!” he said. “It is not too much to say that you adorn the spring! All our beauties are cast into the shade, I protest!”

“No, that’s not right, sir,” said the well-read Miss Charing, painstakingly helpful. “ ‘To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,’ and quite ineligible!”

Sir Henry sustained a severe shock. His jaw dropped, and he groped again for his quizzing-glass, and raised it, this time with every intention of depressing pretension. Miss Charing’s wide gray eyes observed this manoevure with interest. The glass dropped; Sir Henry said, showing all his excellent, if not genuine, teeth in an unloving smile: “Very witty, Miss—er—Scorton!”

“You cannot have been attending, sir,” said Kitty reprovingly. “I am Miss Charing, not Miss Scorton.”

“Oh, I beg pardon! I did not immediately perceive—!

Ah, exactly so! You are not Miss Broughty’s cousin, ma’am! Ten thousand pardons! My dear Miss Broughty, you are unattended—you have no footman—no maid! You must allow me to escort you!”

Olivia, thrown into the greatest discomfort, knew not how to counter this. Her companion was made of sterner stuff. “Unattended, Sir Henry? When you yourself knew me for an Attendant Nymph!” exclaimed Miss Charing. “Indeed, we shall not put you to so much trouble!”

He protested that he could know no greater pleasure, talked archly of the distinction of having a lovely lady on either arm, and interspersed these compliments with broad hints to Kitty to take herself off, so that there seemed to be no possibility of getting rid of him. But when they had walked a few hundred yards salvation appeared in equestrian guise. Kitty, idly looking at the carriages and the horsemen, suddenly perceived her French cousin, trotting towards them on a brown hack. She waved; he saw her; and at once drew up, sweeping off his hat, and bowing. “My cousin! But what a coup de bonheurl They tell me that to be gent du monde in England I must ride in the Park, so behold me, mounted, d grands frais, upon a slug! I have my reward, cependant quoi qu’il en soit!” He laughed down into Kitty’s eyes, saw in them an unmistakeable message, glanced at Sir Henry, and at once swung himself lightly out of the saddle, twitching his bridle over the hired hack’s head, and saying: “You will permit me to go with you, cousin?” Much pleased with this swift, Gallic comprehension, Kitty said: “Oh, we shall be delighted to have your escort, Camille! Sir Henry here—oh, let me make you known to my cousin, the Chevalier d’Evron, Sir Henry!—has been so obliging as to turn his steps aside to accompany us, but now that you are come we need no longer trespass upon his goodnature!” She then turned, and held out her hand to Sir Henry, adding brightly: “Goodbye! It was so kind in you!”

There was nothing for him to do but to take his dismissal with what grace he could muster. The Chevalier, having discovered Miss Broughty, averted his eyes from her countenance with an effort, and bowed again, saying with mechanical civility: “Au plaisir de vous revoir, m’sieur!”

Sir Henry executed a bow, glared for a moment at the handsome young Frenchman, and walked away, jauntily twirling his cane. Kitty, observing that the Chevalier’s gaze had returned to her blushing friend’s face, hastily repaired an omission. “My dear Miss Broughty, you must allow me to present to you my cousin, the Chevalier d’Evron!”

“How do you do?” whispered Olivia, putting out her hand, and blushing more furiously than ever.

“Mademoiselle!” breathed the Chevalier, taking the little hand reverently in his, and holding it as a man might hold a rare bird.

Never had there been a clearer case of love at first sight! As the Chevalier stood, tenderly holding the little gloved hand in his, while his gaze devoured the flower-like face, Olivia raised her eyes to his in a look of wonder, as though she had been an enchanted maiden awakened from long, dreamless sleep. Kitty, interestedly watching, thought that they exchanged hearts in that moment, and was quite sorry when a recollection of their surroundings made each look away. Olivia recovered her hand, and the Chevalier began at once to talk in his vivacious style to Kitty. He walked beside them, leading his horse, and when they would have parted from him at the Stanhope Gate, declared that he had been on his way to the livery-stables when he had encountered them, and wished to ride no more. He escorted them along Mount Street; and Kitty, much enjoying her first efforts at matchmaking, begged them to stroll on towards Berkeley Square while she paused at the Legerwood house, to enquire after the invalids. When she presently overtook them, they were conversing with the ease of long friendship, or perfect understanding; and the Chevalier had begged leave to stable his horse, and to return immediately to Lady Buckhaven’s house, that he might have the privilege of driving Olivia back to Hans Crescent. Kitty could only admire such ready address. The Chevalier certainly had no carriage in England, but she did not doubt that he would contrive to beg, borrow, or hire a suitable vehicle. Nor was she disappointed: in a surprisingly short space of time he presented himself in Meg’s drawing-room, leaving a groom from the livery-stables he patronized in charge of a neat phaeton-and-pair.

He arrived to find the elder Miss Scorton sitting with Kitty and Olivia, and Kitty could have laughed aloud to see the look of chagrin that flickered in his eyes. But Olivia’s cousin Eliza, a kind, vulgar spinster of uncertain age and romantic disposition, had no notion of spoiling sport. She had indeed come to bear Olivia company on her way home, but one glance at the Chevalier’s excellent riding-dress and indefinable air of affluence was enough to convince her that here was a possible parti for her beautiful little cousin who combined wealth with attributes still more alluring to the female mind; and she lost no time in breaking into a voluble explanation of the several reasons which made it inconvenient for her to take Olivia back to Hans Crescent for at least an hour. She then took leave of Miss Charing, and departed, but not, rather unfortunately, before Lady Buckhaven came in. Meg received her protestations with civility, but coolly; and when she and Kitty were presently left alone she said, in a pet, that she wished Kitty would not invite such vulgar creatures to her house.

Kitty was contrite, but she was able to assure her hostess that Miss Scortori had no notion of encroaching. “She came only to escort Olivia home, you know. But, Meg, did you observe my cousin? I declare to you he no sooner clapped eyes on Olivia than he had no eyes for anyone else! It is the most famous thing!”

But Meg did not think it a famous thing at all. “Of course I observed your cousin, and I must say, Kitty, I think it is foolish beyond permission to encourage such a thing! The Chevalier and a girl with such low connections? You must be mad to think of it!”