Джорджетт Хейер - Cotillion

Mr. Standen, arriving in Berkeley Square just after noon, allowed Skelton to help him out of his many-caped driving coat, laid his hat and gloves on a side-table, and paused under a large Venetian gilt mirror to adjust his cravat. “Ladies at home, Skelton?” he enquired.

“Her ladyship is partaking of luncheon in the breakfast-parlour, sir. Miss Charing went out of town this morning, and will not be back, I understand, until tomorrow.”

Freddy looked mildly surprised. “Did she, though? What made her do that?”

“I couldn’t say, sir.”

“Queer start!” remarked Freddy. “No need to announce me.”

Skelton bowed, but opened the door of the parlour at the back of the house for him. Freddy wandered into the room, and accorded his sister a brotherly greeting. “Hallo, Meg! What’s this Skelton tells me about Kit? Where has she gone to?”

“Oh, Freddy, is that you?” exclaimed Meg. “How quick you have been! Kitty might just as well have waited for you! Not that I believed a word of that story, for I hope I am not such a dummy! She has gone off to Arnside, but she means to return tomorrow.”

“Old gentleman taken ill, or something?” enquired Freddy, seating himself at the table, and selecting an apple from the dish of fruit in the middle of it.

“No, I don’t think that was it. She had a most peculiar letter from Miss Fishguard yesterday, all about Henry VIII, and she said it was plain to her that something must be amiss at Arnside.”

“All about Henry VIII?” repeated Freddy incredulously. “What’s he doing at Arnside? Well, what I mean is, can’t be doing anything! Fellow’s been dead for centuries. Good thing, if he’s the one I’m thinking of.”

“Well, that is what we couldn’t discover, for the stupid creature wrote so wildly neither of us could read her letter. There was something about a cockatrice, and a girl called Katherine, whom Kitty thinks must be a new servant, and then, a little farther down the page, something about treason. There was no understanding it at all!”

“Plain as a pikestaff!” said Freddy, delicately peeling his apple. “Touched in her upper works. Thought as much, when I was down there.”

“Yes, but that is not all, Freddy. First, Kitty said she should ask you to take her home, to discover what was the matter. And then, that very same morning, she said she would not wait for you, but would ask Dolph to take her instead! I assure you, I tried to dissuade her, but she wouldn’t listen to me, and she has gone with Dolph!”

Mr. Standen, having peeled his apple, now quartered it. “Shouldn’t have done that,” he said, shaking his head. “Much better have waited for me! No use taking Dolph: he’s touched in his upper works too. Won’t know what to do, if that Fish turns out to be violent.” He ate one of the quarters, and added reflectively: “Come to think of it, shouldn’t know what to do myself. Still, might make a push to do something, which he won’t.”

“Upon my word, Freddy, you take it very coolly!” cried Meg. “Here’s Kitty, running off in this mysterious way with Dolph, and you seem not to care a button!”

“Well, I don’t,” replied Freddy. “She won’t come to any harm with Dolph.”

“For anything you know she may have eloped with him! You are the most extraordinary creature!”

“I know dashed well she hasn’t eloped with him, and if you weren’t so bird-witted you’d know it too.”

“Well, I do know it, but you must own that after the way he has been dangling round her it would not be surprising! But, in fact, she took that very odd friend of hers as well—Miss Plymstock.”

Freddy was subjecting the dish of fruit to a close scrutiny, but at these words he let his eyeglass fall, and said; “Did she, though! Then that explains it! At least, don’t quite see why she’s gone to Arnside, but I daresay there’s a very good reason.”

“So you do understand it!” said Meg. “To be sure, Kitty said you would, but I thought she was hoaxing me. Freddy, what is she doing? Not one word would she vouchsafe to me, except that it would be better if I didn’t know, which nearly sent me into hysterics!”

“Daresay she was right,” said Freddy, considering the matter. “Might be the devil of a dust over it—if she’s doing what I think she is, which, mind you, I ain’t sure of.”

“You had better read the letter she wrote to you,” said Meg, suddenly remembering the existence of Kitty’s letter, and producing it from her reticule.

“I should dashed well think I had!” said Freddy indignantly. “If it ain’t just like you, Meg, to sit there prosing on for ever instead of giving it to me at once!”

“I had forgot I had it,” apologized Meg, giving it to him.

He cast her a look of scorn, broke the wafer, and spread open the sheets. His sister sat in growing impatience while he slowly perused the whole, every now and then turning back to consult some phrase on a previous page, Restraining her ardent wish to demand enlightenment, she waited until he had, come to the end before saying: “Well?”

Mr. Stand en, who appeared to be wrestling with some knotty problem, paid not the smallest heed to this interjection, but, to Meg’s intense annoyance, began to read the letter all over again. He then said cryptically: “If you ask me, she’s made a muff of it!”

“Well, I do ask you!” said Meg, pardonably incensed. “Made a muff of what!”

“It don’t signify,” said Freddy, rising to his feet. “Good thing she wrote to me, though. Might have caught cold at this!”

“Freddy!” shrieked Meg. “You don’t mean to leave me without telling me what has happened?”

“Yes, I do,” he replied. “Tell you all about it presently! For one thing, haven’t time just now: got something important to do! For another, Kit don’t want me to.”

“Oh, it is the most infamous thing!” Meg cried.

“No, no, it ain’t as bad as that!” said Freddy earnestly. “Don’t say there won’t be the deuce of a dust kicked up, because there will be. I can stand the huff, but you wouldn’t like it.”

On these tantalizing words, he left the room, bestowing a kindly pat on his sister’s shoulder as he passed her chair. He shrugged himself into his driving-coat again, picked up his curly-brimmed beaver, set it on his head with nicety and precision, took his gloves in his hand, and let himself out of the house.

It was his intention to walk to the nearest thoroughfare, there to find a hackney-coach; but as he paused on the top step to consult his watch, one of these useful vehicles rounded the corner of the Square, and, in another minute, drew up outside the Buckhaven house. Freddy, restoring his watch to his pocket, descended the steps, vaguely wondering who might have come to visit his sister in a common hack. The answer to this problem then burst upon his vision: Miss Broughty almost tumbled out of the coach, and began to search in her reticule for the recompense needed to satisfy the demands of the Jehu seated on the box. These appeared to be beyond her means, for she embarked on a somewhat agitated argument with her creditor. Freddy was not one of Miss Broughty’s admirers, but an inner voice warned him that his affianced bride would certainly expect him to befriend any protégée of hers, so he stepped forward, removing his hat, and bowing with his peculiar grace. “Beg you will allow me!” he murmured.

“Oh!” gasped Olivia, startled, and dropping her reticule. “Mr. Standen!”

He restored her property to her. “How do you do? Very happy to be of assistance! Shocking robbers, these jarveys!”

The gentleman on the box began indignantly to recite the lawful charges for the hire of hackney vehicles, but when he discovered that the swell in the sixteen-caped coat had not the slightest intention of disputing these with him, changed his tone, and said that if he could have his way he would never drive any but a member of the Quality. He then pocketed the handsome sum handed up to him, winked expressively, and drove off, with a twirl of his whip.

“Oh, Mr. Standen!” faltered Olivia. “You are so very obliging! I do not know what to say! I had no notion—! My one thought was to reach dear Miss Charing, and I just hailed the first coach I saw, and jumped into it!”

The inner voice which seldom added anything to Mr. Standen’s comfort now warned him that trouble loomed in front of him. He said: “You want to see Miss Charing?”

“Oh, yes, for I am in the greatest distress, and she said that she would help me!”

“Very sorry to be obliged to disappoint you: gone out of town!” said Freddy apologetically.

This time, Miss Broughty dropped her muff as well as her reticule upon the flagway. “Gone out of town!” she repeated, looking perfectly distraught, “Oh, heavens, what shall I do?”

Freddy once more retrieved her belongings. Taking Miss Broughty’s exclamation in its most literal sense, he replied with great civility: “Very difficult for me to say. Happy to do anything in my power, but not in possession of the facts. No use asking for Miss Charing today: call again tomorrow!”

“Too late!” uttered Miss Broughty, in tragic accents. “I am lost, for there is no one I may turn to, except Mr. Westruther, and I cannot, I cannot!”

Mr. Standen now knew that his inner voice had not deceived him. His instinct was to extricate himself with what dexterity he could summon to his aid from a situation which bade fair to plunge him into the sort of embarrassment his fastidious soul loathed; but an innate chivalry bade him stand his ground. He said, with a deprecatory cough: “Very understandable! Shouldn’t turn to him, if I was you. Better tell me! Do my best to assist you: betrothed to Miss Charing, you know!”