“I should think you might,” agreed Kit. “But you can’t go to Tunbridge Wells, for all that.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Kester, don’t you start talking fustian about my broken shoulder!” Evelyn exclaimed irritably.

“I wasn’t thinking about your shoulder. The fact is, Eve, you can’t go anywhere until I’ve disappeared. How are you to get there? Challow can’t drive you there in the curricle, because for one thing, someone would be bound to see you, and recognize you; and, for another, he can’t take the curricle out secretly, you know.”

“But he can take it out at your orders, and bring you here in it,” Evelyn pointed out, an impish gleam in his eyes. “Then, dear twin, you can take my place here, in hiding, and I can go to Tunbridge Wells!”

“Leaving my guests to fend for themselves! I would, if the matter were of any particular urgency, but as it doesn’t seem to be—no!”

Evelyn sighed. “I suppose not. But you’ll have to leave them, if you mean to go to Brighton in my stead.”

“I don’t. I came to talk to you about that,” Kit said. “Let’s sit down!”

He dragged Evelyn’s chair up to a wooden bench, and himself sat on the bench. “You won’t like this,” he warned Evelyn, “but you’ve got to know it.” He drew from his pocket the roll of bills Evelyn had given him, and handed it to him. “Here are your flimsies: they won’t be needed. The brooch was not counterfeit. I doubt whether any of Mama’s jewellery is—not even the necklace she says she sold on your behalf.”

Evelyn frowned at him, flushing slightly. “What the devil do you mean? She told me herself she had sold the brooch, and had had it copied!”

“Yes, that’s what she told me. But she also told me that she had several times employed Ripple to sell trinkets for her, which I imagine you didn’t know.”

“You may be very sure I didn’t.”

“Well, the long and the short of it, Eve, is that Ripple never sold anything for her. He gave her the price of that brooch and what he told her was a copy of it.”

Evelyn stiffened, his hand closing on the roll of bills so tightly that his knuckles whitened. His eyes blazed for an instant, then he lowered them to his clenched hand, and opened his fingers. “Why didn’t you give him this, then?”

Kit shrugged, half-smiling. “You may be able to: I found I couldn’t.”

“Kester, he had no right—!”

“No.”

“It is intolerable!” Evelyn said, in a suffocating voice. “How much does Mama owe him?”

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me.”

“He will tell me!”

“He won’t, Eve. Or anyone. I think you had better hear what passed between us.”

Evelyn nodded, his lips compressed. But when Kit reached the end of his unquestioned recital, the white, angry look had left his face, and although he still frowned there was a softer light in his eyes. He did not speak immediately, but a rather bitter smile curled his lips, and presently he said: “My father left me one thing I forgot to mention last night—humiliation! I shan’t be rid of that until I’ve repaid Ripple.”

“It isn’t in your power to repay him, twin.”

“Not yet. But it will be—when I’m thirty, if not before. I must talk to him.”

“Of course—but he bade me tell you it was none of your business, since it all happened during my father’s lifetime, when you couldn’t have rescued Mama. And further,” Kit said, with a twinkle, “that he didn’t want to have you buzzing round him like a hornet.”

Evelyn laughed, but ruefully. “No, no, how could he think I would?”

“Well, he knows you don’t like him! What’s more he told me that you hadn’t been able to wind him up in all the years you’d been trying to do it, so that it wasn’t likely I could!”

Evelyn pulled a grimace. “Not so bacon-brained, after all. I suppose I have tried to draw wool, now and now. I don’t dislike him precisely—or I shouldn’t, if he didn’t dangle after Mama, calling her his pretty, talking of his devotion, when even she knows how many mistresses he’s had in keeping! But I never suspected him of this! I own, I thought it was all a hum: that he pretended to feel an unalterable attachment to Mama because to be her most favoured cicisbeo added to his consequence.”

“Yes, so did I,” Kit agreed. “I think now, however, that he is devoted to her, in his way. Good-natured, too, and certainly generous—though he says himself that a few thousands here and there meant nothing to him.”

“I must see him!” Evelyn said, in a fretting tone. “He has placed me under an obligation, and however much I—I hate it, I am very sensible of it, and must tell him so, and make it plain to him that I hold myself responsible, in my father’s place, for Mama’s debts.”

“You will do as you think right,” Kit said equably. “We have also to consider, you, and Mama, and I, where you should go to until I am safely out of the country. You can’t remain cooped up here, and while Lady Stavely is known to be at Ravenhurst you can’t go to London, or to Brighton.”

“It’s a pity I didn’t break my neck instead of my shoulder. That would have solved all our problems,” remarked Evelyn. He turned his head to look at Kit, and added quickly: “No, no, I don’t mean that! Only funning, Kester!”

“Not one of your more diverting jokes, brother,” replied Kit. “I mean it hasn’t sent me into whoops, precisely!”

“I know, I know! don’t rake me down!” Evelyn begged, in a penitent voice. “The fact is, I’m blue-devilled!”

Kit nodded, but said: “Very likely. Of course we’re in the deuce of a hobble, but we shall bring ourselves off! When did we ever fail to?”

Evelyn smiled at him. “True! Don’t let us talk about my affairs: I’ll retire to Leicestershire. Let’s discuss yours instead! I suppose you can’t immediately announce your engagement to Cressy, but I’m strongly of the opinion that you should see Stavely before you go back to Vienna, and get his consent. I’ve been considering that, and I think I should go with you to Mount Street.”

“I don’t know that, but I agree that I must see Stavely as soon as may be possible. But my affairs are simpler than yours, and don’t call for discussion, Eve.”

“Mine are beyond discussion,” Evelyn answered. “I’ve had plenty of time for thought, and I can see that my case is pretty hopeless. You said as much last night, didn’t you?”

“I neither said it nor thought it.”

“Well, you said that my uncle will be opposed to my marriage to Patience Askham, and that is the same thing. I’ve tried to think he might not dislike it, but of course he will. How could I ask Patience to wait for six years? Even if I were sure that she loved me! I haven’t—I haven’t tried to fix her interest, and as things are—No, even if her father would permit me to declare myself, I mustn’t do it.”

“If ever I knew such a fellow!” exclaimed Kit, in a rallying tone. “Either you’re in alt, or in flat despair!” He laid a hand on Evelyn’s knee, and gripped it. “You’re not quite knocked up, you gudgeon! I shall try to see my uncle before I leave England, and though I don’t yet know just what I shall tell him you may depend upon it that your part in my story will be positively saintly!”

“If you try to pitch it as rum as that, he’ll smell out a hoax immediately!” Evelyn interrupted, laughing in spite of himself.

“Not at all! I fancy you sacrificed your own interests to further mine—and that he will believe. It won’t do to say anything about Miss Askham, and I don’t mean to. You will have to wait for a period, but not for very long, if you will but stop committing what he calls extravagant follies. Spend more of your time here, twin, and interest yourself in the estate! In fact, interest yourself to such a pitch that he’ll be only too glad to relinquish his authority! Urge improvements, demand information—pester him! Add a melancholy air to your demeanour, as though you had suffered a disappointment, and ten to one he’ll be so much concerned that he’ll greet with relief your engagement to Miss Askham!”

He spoke with a gay confidence which amused Evelyn, and served, for the moment, to put up his spirits; but he was not himself convinced. He knew his uncle’s inflexible nature too well to believe that he could be easily persuaded; nor was he able to entertain any hopes that he would look with favour upon Evelyn’s marriage to one whom he would infallibly consider a nobody. Knowing his twin, he entertained almost as little hope that Evelyn would adhere for any length of time to the line of conduct he had suggested to him. His disposition was too impetuous, his spirits too volatile, to enable him to wait, enduring boredom and frustration with patience. He would fall into one of his fits of despair, and seek alleviation in sprees and revel-routs.

It was therefore in a mood of considerable anxiety that Kit at last left his twin, and walked slowly back to the house, cudgelling his brain to discover a way to overcome difficulties which bore all the appearance of being insuperable. He began to feel almost as depressed as Evelyn, and was not cheered by the intelligence, imparted to him by Norton, upon his entering the house, that Miss Stavely had driven out with the Dowager. By way of solace, Norton offered him the newspapers, the post having come in some time previously.

It had brought no letters for Evelyn, but several for Lady Denville, and two franked by Lord Stavely, and addressed to his mother and his daughter.

Cressy was carrying her letter when she entered Lady Denville’s drawing-room, and she said, as she shut the door: “Godmama, I have had such good news from Papa! Albinia was brought to bed on Tuesday, and was delivered of a son! Papa is so delighted! He writes very briefly—just to tell me that it is a very fine child, and Albinia going on prosperously, in spite of a difficult labour.” She broke off suddenly perceiving that Lady Denville had been crying. She went swiftly forward, falling on her knees beside her ladyship’s chair, and saying: “What is it? Dearest, dearest Godmama, what has happened?”

Lady Denville made a huge effort to pull herself together, responding, with a valiant smile: “Why, nothing in the world, dear child! What was that you said? Your father has a son? Well, that is charming—at least, I suppose one must say it is, though for my part I consider he should have been content with his daughter, for it isn’t as though he had no brothers to succeed him, and I cannot think that any son of Albinia Gillifoot’s will be anything but an odious child!”

Cressy gave an involuntary giggle, but said: “Never mind that! Only tell me what has happened to distress you, ma’am!” Her eyes fell upon a closely written sheet of paper, lying on the table at Lady Denville’s elbow. “You have received disturbing news, ma’am? I do most sincerely trust you—you haven’t suffered a bereavement? One of your sisters, or your brothers?”

“Oh no, nothing of that nature!” Lady Denville assured her. “Much, much worse! Of course, I should be excessively sorry to hear that any of them had died, but I shouldn’t cry about it, because I hardly ever see any of them, and Baverstock and Amelia I positively dislike! To own the truth, it made me feel very low when I saw Evelyn this morning. Just when Kit had made me so happy, too! Dearest Cressy, indeed I am overjoyed! You are the very wife for my darling Kit, and so I’ve been thinking for the past sennight!”

Emerging from her ladyship’s scented embrace, Cressy blushed, laughed, and said: “Thank you, ma’am! I hope I may prove you right! I only know that he is the very husband for me! But why did it make you feel low to see Evelyn? Do you fear he may be worse injured than Kit thinks?”

“Oh no, I shouldn’t think so! To be sure, he does look rather pulled, poor lamb, but that’s nothing! Cressy, did Kit tell you about Miss Askham?”

“To be sure he did! I understand she is a very beautiful and—and sweet girl!”

 “Well, she maybe,” said Lady Denville doubtfully. “But her name is Patience!”

“How pretty!” said Cressy, in encouraging accents. “Rather—rather Quakerish, and refreshingly unusual!”

“Do you think so?” Lady Denville grew still more doubtful. “But I fear she is Quakerish, Cressy, and, try as I will, I cannot feel that she will suit Evelyn! You know, my love—and I can say this to you now, without any hiding of the truth!—the girls he has previously fallen in love with have all been very lively and dashing!”

Cressy smiled. “But he has quite quickly fallen out of love with them,, hasn’t he, ma’am? Perhaps—being so dashing himself?—a quiet, gentle girl will suit him much better. I believe it is often so.”