“Ay, but your affairs won’t wait, my lord,” said Mr Chawleigh, when Adam tried to explain the difficulty to him. “I won’t tip over the dibs until I see the knot tied, because I’m not one to shell out the nonsense without I’ve better security than you can offer me. Now, there’s no need to nab the rust! I don’t doubt you’d stick to the bargain, but who’s to say you’d be alive to do it? Anything could happen to you, and then where would I be? Holding a draft on the Pump at Aldgate!”

This point of view could scarcely be expected to appeal to Adam; but his sense of humour came to his rescue, and, instead of yielding to a reckless impulse to repudiate the betrothal, he sought counsel of Lady Oversley.

She perceived the intricacies of the situation at once, and gave the matter her profound consideration. “She must be presented,” she decided. “It would have a very strange appearance if she weren’t, because one always is, you know, on the occasion of one’s marriage. And there is nothing improper in going to a Drawing-Room when in mourning, though not, I think, in colour — except lavender, perhaps. Only, who is to present her? In general, one’s mother does so, but poor Jenny has no mother, and even if she had — dear me, yes! this is a trifle awkward, because I don’t think you could ask it of your own mother. Not while she is in such deep mourning, I mean! Well, it will have to be me, though I am strongly of the opinion that if we could but hit on a member of your own family it would create a better impression.”

“My Aunt Nassington?” suggested Adam.

“Would she?”

“I think she might.”

“Well, if you can coax her into it, do so! No one could answer the purpose better, because she’s of the first consequence, and positively famous for the crushing set-downs she gives to perfectly respectable persons! Her approval must be of the greatest value. As for the rest, I don’t think you should go to balls. Dinner-parties and assemblies, yes! Balls, no! At least, you might attend one, but you shouldn’t dance at it.”

“I can’t,” Adam pointed out. “Too lame, ma’am! What a figure I should cut!”

“So you would!” she agreed, brightening perceptibly.

She did not disclose that the recollection of his disability had relieved her mind of a severe anxiety; and if he guessed that she had been racking her brain to think how she could induce the haughty patronesses of Almack’s to bestow vouchers on Jenny he did not say so. But he must have known that the right of entry to these chaste Assembly Rooms in King Street conferred on the recipient a greater distinction than a Court presentation, and was far more difficult to obtain. The club was presided over by six great ladies, who imposed rules that were as inflexible as they were arbitrary. Mere rank was no passport to Almack’s; and although the disappointed marvelled that anyone should covet a ticket to an assembly where no more stimulating beverage than orgeat could be got, and where nothing was danced but Scotch reels and country dances, such disgruntled animadversions hoaxed no one. It might be more amusing to twirl round a ballroom in the new German waltz, or to embark on the intricacies of the quadrille; and there was not a hostess in London who would have dreamt of regaling her guests on tea and stale bread-and-butter; but no one could pretend that invitations to all the smartest balls of the season conveyed the cachet won by a single appearance at Almack’s.

Having passed the six hostesses under mental review, Lady Oversley was so much relieved to be spared the task of begging Lady Sefton or Lady Castlereagh, both very good-natured, to bestow vouchers on Jenny that she offered to act as matron of honour at the wedding. This, however, Jenny refused, saying that she had invited a Miss Tiverton to support her on the occasion. She told Adam that Miss Tiverton was perfectly genteel. The remark grated on him, but he said lightly: “If you like her I’m sure she must be an amiable girl. Your chaperon I cannot like! Will you feel yourself obliged to invite her to your parties?”

“Oh, no! I don’t mean to keep up the acquaintance,” she said calmly. “I dislike her very much.”

There was a hint of her father’s ruthlessness in this, which dismayed him. She saw that he was looking grave, and added: “I don’t feel under an obligation to her, you know. She has been handsomely paid, and she has been able to feather her nest in a great many ways. All my wedding-clothes are being made at the most expensive houses, you know, and so of course she receives commissions for having put business in their way.”

“Good God! Surely it is most improper of her to be urging you to extravagance so that she may make a profit? You will indeed be well rid of her!”

“Oh, yes, but I daresay she feels it to be of no consequence, since Papa likes me to shop at all the most expensive places.” She hesitated, and then asked shyly: “That puts me in mind of something I wish to ask you: must I engage a dresser? Mrs Quarley-Bix says I must, and I’ll do what you think right — only I would very much prefer to keep my old maid with me! I know a grand dresser would despise me!”

“If all dressers are like my mother’s Miss Poolstock she’d hold up her nose at both of us. A more top-lofty female I never encountered!”

“Then may I tell Papa you don’t think it necessary?”

“Yes, tell him Miss Poolstock has given me such a hatred of dressers that I won’t have one in the house! And, talking of houses, what do you wish me to do about a town-house? Wimmering tells me there will be no difficulty in selling the one in Grosvenor Street, so perhaps we should be looking about us for another — if either of us can spare the time, which I doubt! Shall I tell Wimmering to try what he can find for us while we are in Hampshire? then, if he saw any he thought suitable we may inspect them before I take you to Fontley.”

She agreed at once; and asked if they were to go to Fontley immediately after the honeymoon.

“Unless you should dislike it I want to make you acquainted with it, and with my people.”

“Would you like to remain there? Not come to town at all this season?”

“What, miss all the season?” he replied in a rallying tone, “No, indeed! Have you forgotten that you are to be presented? We ought to make a push to be back in town before the middle of May, which will relegate our stay at Fontley to a very few days.”

“I only thought — since you are in mourning — that perhaps you had liefer not go to parties?”

“On the contrary, I’ve consulted Lady Oversley, and she assures me that it will be proper for us to do everything but dance. And I don’t dance, you know — though I’ll engage to escort you to balls next year, and stand, as my sister tells me Byron does, gloomily surveying the company!”

Chapter VI

Lady Lynton took two days to reach London, since she elected to travel in the family coach, an old-fashioned vehicle which had not been designed for swift progress. It had the advantage of being roomy enough to accommodate Miss Poolstock, as well as herself and Charlotte, but she did not mention this when she explained to Adam why she had lumbered up to town in it. She reminded him instead that one of his first economies had been to dismiss the postilions always kept by his father. “Whether that was quite wise, dearest, I must leave it to you to decide. I am sure you did what you thought right, and I don’t regard the inconvenience to myself.”

“But you could have hired postilions, and come in the postchaise, Mama!” expostulated Adam.

He would have done better to have held his peace, for he was speedily brought to a sense of his shortcomings. These included a callousness which made it possible for him to contemplate with equanimity all the dangers to which his mother would be subjected were she to entrust herself to hired post-boys.

He had time, while this homily was being delivered, to assimilate the details of her raiment; and as soon as he found himself alone with his sister he demanded to be told whether Mama meant to call in Russell Square rigged out in crimped crape, and with her only ornament a large mourning-brooch, depicting, in grisaille on mother-of-pearl, a female drooping miserably over a tomb. “And why hasn’t Lydia come with you?”

Charlotte was obliged to confess that Lydia had not wished to come. “She is so very much attached to you that she felt she couldn’t bear — that is to say, she — ”

“I understand you,” he interrupted. “She is mistaken, however. Miss Chawleigh is a very agreeable girl. I think Lydia will like her. I hope she will, for if she doesn’t it must lead to a breach between us, which would grieve me very much indeed.”

She bowed her head, but ventured to say: “Only let me once tell you, my dear brother, how deeply sensible I am of the sacrifice you are making! When I reflect that if I had had your resolution — ”

“Charlotte, don’t be a goose! You are not assisting at a tragedy! Oh, I know what’s in your mind, but that was put out of the question whether I married, or stayed single. Don’t, I beg of you, make a piece of work of it!” He gave her a slight hug, which told her more than anything he had said. “Has Mama made up her mind where she wishes to live? Does she remain at Fontley, or does she hold by the Bath scheme?”

“By the Bath scheme, and — oh, Adam, I am in such a worry over it, and can’t help feeling that perhaps it is my duty to accompany her! But Lambert thinks that if once I go to Bath Mama will renew all her objections to my marriage. I am in the wretchedest indecision, and wish you will advise me!”