Fanny could almost have believed her to be disappointed. The note was torn up, and Serena began to talk of something else.

Fanny herself was profoundly relieved. If Rotherham should dislike the match, as she feared he would, he would not scruple, she thought, to treat the Major with wounding contempt. Her imagination quailed at the scene; she felt that she could almost have interposed her own shrinking person between the Marquis and his prey; and was thankful that for the present, at any rate, this deed of heroism would not be necessary. She did not know that Fate had another trial in store for her. Her father arrived in Bath, without invitation or advertisement.

He was ushered into the drawing-room in Laura Place when, as ill-luck would have it, Major Kirkby was with her. She was not precisely discomposed, but she was certainly startled, and jumped up with a cry of: “Papa!”

He embraced her kindly enough, but his countenance was severe, and the glance he cast at the Major repulsive.

“Papa, I had no notion I was to have this pleasure! Oh, is there something amiss at home? Mama? My sisters?”

“All perfectly stout!” he replied. “I have been spending a few days with my friend, Abberley, at Cheltenham, and while I was in the west I thought I would come to see how you go on.”

“How very much obliged to you I—am! Very comfortably, I assure you! Oh, I must introduce Major Kirkby! My father, Sir William Claypole, Major!”

The Major bowed; Sir William nodded, in no very encouraging style, saying briefly: “How d’ye do?”

“The Major,” said Fanny perseveringly, “has spent some years in the Peninsula, Papa. Only fancy! He thinks he once met my cousin Harry, when they were both in Lisbon!”

“Ay, did you so? Very likely! Are you on furlough, sir?”

“I’ve sold out, sir.”

This information appeared to displease Sir William. He said: “Ha!” and turned to ask Fanny how she liked her situation in Laura Place. She was distressed by his evident dislike of her visitor, and could not forbear looking at the Major, to see whether he was as much offended as she feared he must be. She encountered such a rueful smile, so much amused understanding in his eyes, that she was at once reassured and embarrassed. Within a few minutes, he recollected an engagement, and took his leave, saying in an undervoice, as she gave him her hand: “It will be better if I don’t ride with Serena tomorrow.”

He went away, and she turned to face her father. He broke in immediately upon her inquiries after the other members of her family. “Fanny, how is this? I promise you I thought the whole tale a Banbury story, but, upon my soul, what do I find but that fellow closeted with you!”

“The whole tale?” she repeated. “What tale, if you please?”

“Why, that there is some half-pay officer dangling after you, and making you the talk of the town!”

“It is untrue!”

“Very well, very well, it appears he has sold out, but that’s mere quibbling!” he said testily.

“He is not dangling after me.”

The quiet dignity of her tone seemed to strike him. She had, indeed, never looked more the great lady. He said, in a milder voice: “Well, I am happy to receive your assurance on that head, my dear, but I did not expect to find you entertaining a young man tête-à-tête.”

“Papa, I think you must forget my condition! I am not a girl! If my widowhood—”

“The fact is, my dear, your widowhood is no protection!” he interrupted bluntly. “I don’t say, if you were older—But you’re little more than a child, and a deal too pretty to rely upon that cap you wear, to save you from having advances made to you! I knew how it would be, the instant you informed us you were removing to Bath!”

“Pray, Papa, will you tell me, if you please, who has had the monstrous impertinence to tell such stories about me?”

“I had it from that old fool, Dorrington, and you may suppose I did not inquire who might be his informant. I daresay he may have friends in Bath. I gave him a pretty sharp set-down, and let him see I did not relish his style of humour.”

“Oh, how right Serena is!” she cried, pressing her hands to her hot cheeks. “Of all the odious people in the world there can be none so detestable as the Bath quizzes! I wonder you have not been told that General Hendy is dangling after me!”

“What, is he staying here? Well, he always had an eye for a pretty female, but as for dangling after you—Good God, Fanny, he must be sixty if he’s a day! It’s a different matter, my dear, when a young jackanapes like this Major Kirkby of yours throws out lures! Now, don’t put yourself in a fuss! I daresay there’s no harm done but what may be put right very easily. I told Mama that if you had been indiscreet it must have been all innocence. The thing is it won’t do for you to be living here with no better chaperon than Lady Serena. We must decide what is best to be done.”

In the greatest dismay, she stammered: “Papa, you are quite, quite mistaken! Major Kirkby does not come here to see me!”

He gave a low whistle. “You don’t mean to tell me Lady Serena is the object of his gallantry?” She nodded. “Well! So it was true! Neither your mama nor I would credit it! I should have thought the young lady too high in the instep to have encouraged the attentions of a mere nobody! She must be the most outrageous flirt!”

“Oh, no, no!” she uttered, almost extinguished.

“Well, I won’t argue with you, but I can tell you this, Fanny, if she should get into a scrape you will be blamed for it!”

“Who told you this story?” she asked faintly.

“Your Aunt Charlotte had it in a letter from Mrs Holroyd, and told your mama. She said your Major was for ever in Laura Place, and careering all over the countryside with Lady Serena besides. I need not tell you that was coming a bit too strong for me, my dear! It made your mama and me disbelieve the whole.”

Fanny sat limply down, and covered her face with her hands. “Oh, how careless I have been! I should not have allowed—I should have gone with them!”

Sir William regarded her in the liveliest consternation. “You don’t mean to tell me it’s true? Upon my word, Fanny!”

“No, no, it is not what you think! Papa, you must not spread it about—Serena does not wish it to be known while she is in mourning—but they are engaged!”

“What?” he demanded. “Lady Serena engaged to a Major Kirkby?”

“Yes!” she said, and, for no very apparent reason, burst into tears.

12

Beyond saying: “Well, well, there is nothing for you to cry about, my dear!” Sir William paid very little heed to Fanny’s sudden spring of tears. Women, in his view, were always bursting into tears for no reason comprehensible to the sterner sex. He was very much taken aback by the news she had confided to him, and, at first, inclined to dislike it almost as much as he would have disliked the news of her own engagement. But Fanny, quickly wiping her eyes, soon contrived to talk him out of his disapproval. He was not much impressed by the touching picture she painted of a seven-year attachment. “Very fine talking!” he said. “It may be so with him, though I take leave to doubt it! He may think he never fancied another female, but all I can say, if he found no little love-bird to entertain him in seven years, is that he must be a nincompoop! No, no, my dear, that’s doing it too brown! As for Lady Serena, all this constancy didn’t prevent her from becoming engaged to Rotherham! But what you tell me of his having come into property puts a different complexion on the matter. Not that I think the Carlows will take kindly to the match, but that’s no concern of mine!”

Guiltily aware of having conveyed to him the impression that the Major’s estate was extensive, and his fortune handsome, Fanny devoutly trusted that he would not question her too closely on the subject. He did ask her in what part of the country the estate was situated, but the timely entrance of Lybster, with wine and glasses on a large silver tray, made it unnecessary for her to say more than: “In Kent, Papa.” His attention was drawn off; he poured himself a glass of sherry; was agreeably surprised at its quality; and for some minutes was more interested to learn where it had been procured than in the size or whereabouts of the Major’s property.

By the time Lybster, after discussing with Sir William the respective merits of Bristol Milk, Oloroso, and Manzanilla, had departed, Sir William had refilled his glass, and was feeling in charity with the world. He told his daughter that she had a good butler; bored her very much by recalling how in his youth Mountain-Malaga had been much drunk; what he had paid for a tun in the ’80s; how one was rarely offered it in these degenerate days: and at last came back to the subject of Serena’s engagement. The more he thought of it the more he liked it, for if Serena were to be married before the end of the year the way would be clear for Agnes to pay her sister a prolonged visit. “That is to say, if she doesn’t go off this Season, and although your mama is making every effort I need not scruple to tell you, my dear, that I entertain very few hopes. She does not take. It’s a pity you cannot give her a little of your beauty! Though to my mind handsome is as handsome does, and a spoonful of honey on her tongue would get her a respectable husband sooner than a bushel of strawberries squashed on her face. Yes, Mama is determined to clear her complexion, and they say strawberries will do the trick. I hope they may, but so far it seems to me a great waste of good fruit. Kitty, now, is another thing. You would be surprised at the improvement in her since you saw her last! She is not unlike what you were at her age, and should go off easily, Mama thinks.”