“Yes, Mama, and the champagne!” said Selina, determined to discharge the whole of her errand. “Should it be ordered from Gunter’s, with all the rest?”

“You may inform our cousin,” interrupted Mr. Rivenhall, “that the champagne will be provided from our own cellars!” He then turned his shoulder on his young sister, and demanded of his parent, “How does it come about that Eugenia has not mentioned this affair to me? Has she not been invited to your ball?”

One desperately inquiring eye emerged from the handkerchief wildly seeking enlightenment of Selina.

“Good gracious, Charles!” said that damsel, shocked. “Can you have forgotten the bereavement in Miss Wraxton’s family? I am sure if she has told us once she has told us a dozen times that propriety forbids her to attend any but the most quiet parties!”

“This, too, is my cousin’s work, I collect!” he said, his lips tightening. “I must say, ma’am, I might have expected, if you were bent on this folly, that you would have sent a card to my promised wife!”

“Of course, Charles, of course!” said Lady Ombersley. “If it has not been done, it is a foolish oversight! Thought it is perfectly true that Eugenia has told us that while she is in black gloves — ”

“Oh, Mama, don’t!” cried Selina impetuously. “You know she will cast a damper over everything, with that long face of hers, just like a horse — ”

“How dare you?” interrupted Mr. Rivenhall furiously.

Selina looked a little frightened, but muttered, “Well, she does, whatever you may choose to think, Charles!”

“More of my cousin’s work, no doubt!”

Selina flushed, and cast down her eyes. Mr. Rivenhall turned to his mother. “Be so good as to tell me, ma’am, in what manner this affair is arranged between you and Sophy! Does she give you a draft on my uncle’s bank, or what?”

“I — I don’t precisely know!” said Lady Ombersley. “I mean, it has not been discussed yet! Indeed, Charles, I did not know myself until just the other day that so many people had been invited!”

“Well, I know, Mama!” said Selina. “The bills are all sent to Sophy, and you will not be troubled with them at all.”

“I thank you!” Charles said, and walked abruptly out of the room.

He found his cousin in the small salon at the back of the house which was generally known as the Young Ladies’ Room. She was engaged in compiling some kind of a list, but she looked up at the opening of the door and smiled at Charles. “Are you looking for Cecilia? She has gone out to do some shopping in Bond Street with Miss Adderbury.”

“No, I am not looking for Cecilia!” he answered. “My business is with you, Cousin, and will not take me long. I am informed that my mother is giving a ball in your honor on Tuesday, and by some extraordinary piece of mismanagement the bills for this have been sent to you. Will you be so obliging as to find them and give them to me?”

“On your high ropes again, Charles?” she said, lifting her brows. “This is Sir Horace’s ball, not my aunt’s. There is no mismanagement.”

“Sir Horace may be master in his own house — though that I doubt — but he is not master in this one! If my mother chooses to hold a ball, she may do so, but in no circumstances will the charge fall upon my uncle. It is intolerable that you should have persuaded my mother to consent to such a scheme! Give me what bills you have, it you please!”

“But I do not please,” replied Sophy. “Neither Sir Horace nor you, dear Cousin, is the master in this house. I have my Uncle Ombersley’s consent to what I have done.” She saw with satisfaction that she had utterly taken him aback, and added, “If I were you, Charles, I would go for a nice walk in the Park. I have always found that there is nothing so beneficial to the temper as exercise in the fresh air.”

He controlled himself with a strong effort. “Cousin, I am in earnest! I cannot and I will not tolerate such a situation as this!”

“But no one has asked you to tolerate anything at all,” she pointed out. “If my uncle and aunt are satisfied with my arrangements, pray what have you to say to them?”

He said through shut teeth, “I think I told you once before, Cousin, that we did very well here before you came to upset all our comfort!”

“Yes, you did, and what you meant, Charles, was that until I came no one dared to flout you. You should be grateful to me — or at any rate, Miss Wraxton should, for I am sure you would have made an odious husband before I came to stay with your mama.”

This put him in mind of a complaint he could with justice make. He said stiffly. “Since you have brought up Miss Wraxton’s name, I shall be much obliged to you, Cousin, if you will refrain from telling my sisters that she has a face like a horse!”

“But, Charles, no blame attaches to Miss Wraxton! She cannot help it, and that, I assure you, I have always pointed out to your sisters!”

“I consider Miss Wraxton’s countenance particularly well bred!”

“Yes, indeed, but you have quite misunderstood the matter! I meant a particularly well-bred horse!”

“You meant, as I am perfectly aware, to belittle Miss Wraxton!”

“No, no! I am very fond of horses!” Sophy said earnestly.

Before he could stop himself he found that he was replying to this. “Selina, who repeated the remark to me, is not fond of horses, however, and she — ” He broke off, seeing how absurd it was to argue on such a head.

“I expect she will be, when she has lived in the same house with Miss Wraxton for a month or two,” said Sophy encouragingly.

Mr. Rivenhall, restraining an impulse to box his cousin’s ears, flung out of the room, slamming the door behind him. At the foot of the stairs he encountered Lord Bromford, who was handing his hat and overcoat to a footman. Mr. Rivenhall, seeing how he might, in some measure, be revenged on Sophy, greeted him with great affability, asked him if meant to attend Tuesday’s ball, and, upon hearing that lordship was much looking forward to the engagement, said “Have you come to bespeak my cousin’s hand for the cotillion? You are wise! She will certainly be besieged with solicitations! Dassett, you will find Miss Stanton-Lacy in the Yellow Saloon! Take his lordship up to her!”

“Do you think I should?” said Lord Bromford anxiously. “It was not danced in Jamaica, you know, but I have been taking lessons, and two of the steps I know tolerably well. Will there be waltzing? I do not waltz. I do not think it seemly. I hope Miss Stanton-Lacy does not waltz. I do not like to see a lady doing so.”

“Everyone waltzes nowadays,” said Mr. Rivenhall, bent on his fell intent. “You should take lessons in that too, Bromford, or you will be quite cut out!”

“I do not think,” said Lord Bromford, having considered the matter gravely, “that one should sacrifice one’s principles to gratify a female’s whim. I do not think the cotillion objectionable, although I am aware that there are many who do not permit it to be danced in their houses. In the country dance I am prepared to take my part. There is authority for the exercise of dancing, by which I mean to signify the round, or country dance, in the works of the ancients. Plato, you know, recommended that children should be taught to dance; and several classic writers deemed it an excellent recreation after serious study.”

But at this point Mr. Rivenhall bethought him of a pressing engagement and fled the house. Lord Bromford followed the butler upstairs to the drawing room, Dassett having his own ideas on the impropriety of ushering single gentlemen into the Young Ladies’ Room. When Sophy, duly chaperoned by Selina, joined him there, he lost no time in begging her to dance the cotillion with him. Sophy, trusting that one of her Peninsular friends would come to her rescue, said how sorry she was to be obliged to refuse him. She was, she said, already engaged. His face fell, and he looked even a little offended, exclaiming, “How can this be, when your cousin told me to make haste to be first with you?”

“My cousin Charles? Did he indeed?” said Sophy appreciatively. “Well, no doubt he did not know that my hand has been claimed these past three days. Perhaps we may stand up together for one of the country dances.”

He bowed, and said, “I have been telling your cousin that we have good authority for indulging in country dances. They cannot, I believe, be considered harmful. The waltz, on the other hand, I cannot approve of.”

“Oh, do you not waltz? I am so glad — I mean, one does not think of you indulging in anything so frivolous, Lord Bromford!”

He appeared to be pleased by this; he settled himself deeper in his chair, and said, “You raise an interesting thesis, ma’am. One is familiar with the phrase, A man may be known by the company he keeps; can it be that he may also be known by the dances he permits himself to indulge in?”

Since neither lady had any views to advance on this subject, it was fortunate that his question was purely rhetorical. He began to expand the topic and was only interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Wychbold, who came first to offer to escort Sophy and her cousins to witness a wild beast show, and second to beg the honor of partnering her in the cotillion. She was obliged to deny him, but with regret, for Mr. Wychbold was a notable dancer, performing every step in the cotillion with grace and elegance.

However, when Tuesday dawned she had acquired a far from contemptible partner in Lord Francis Wolvey. The fact that he had first applied for Miss Rivenhall’s hand she bore with great fortitude, saying that in Christian charity to all other young females Cecilia should lose no time in disposing of herself in wedlock.