Arthur looked rather startled, but it was Lindeth who interposed, saying: “It is very natural that she should wish for her mama, don’t you think!”

“No!” Tiffany replied crossly. “For she would as lief have Ancilla! Oh, I know! Ancilla shall be hostess in your stead, aunt! Famous! We shall do delightfully!”

But Mrs Underhill was steadfast in refusing to entertain this suggestion. Observing the rising storm signals in Tiffany’s eyes, she sought to temper the disappointment by promising to hold the ridotto as soon as she returned from Bridlington but this only made Tiffany stamp her foot, and declare that she hated put-offs, and marvelled that her aunt should be taken in by Charlotte’s nonsense. “For my part, I believe she could be perfectly stout if she chose! She is putting on airs to be interesting, which I think quite odious, and so I shall tell her!”

“Here!” protested Arthur, shocked. “That’s coming it a bit strong! I beg pardon, but—but you shouldn’t say that!” He added haltingly: “And although I should have enjoyed it, there—there are several people who don’t take to the notion. Well—Mrs Chartley won’t permit Patience to come, and, as a matter of fact—Mama won’t let my sisters either. Not to a moonlight party in the gardens!”

“There! if I didn’t say it wasn’t the thing!” exclaimed Mrs Underhill.

“Who cares whether they come or not?” said Tiffany scornfully. “If they choose to be stuffy, I promise you I don’t!”

Arthur reddened, and got up to take his leave. Mrs Underhill, acutely embarrassed, pressed his hand warmly, and gave him a speaking look; but Tiffany turned her shoulder on him, saying that he was quite as stuffy as his sisters.

“I must be going too, ma’am,” Lindeth said. “Pray tell Charlotte how sorry I am to hear that she’s so much pulled, and tell her to take care she don’t get her toes pinched by a crab when she goes sea-bathing! ... Are you coming, Laurie?”

“Oh, don’t wait for me! I have been thinking, Miss Wield, if we might perhaps get up a party to dance at one of the Assemblies in Harrogate—instead of the ridotto. Would you countenance it, ma’am? With Miss Trent, of course, or some older lady, if any might be persuaded?”

Tiffany’s eyes lit up, but Mrs Underhill looked dismayed, and faltered: “Oh, dear! No, no, don’t suggest it, Mr Calver, for it’s the very thing Mr Burford—that’s Tiffany’s uncle, and her guardian, you know—don’t wish for! Because she ain’t out yet, and he won’t have her going to public dances, for which, of course, he can’t be blamed.”

“It wasn’t he, but Aunt Burford!” said Tiffany. “The greatest beast in nature! Why shouldn’t I go to an Assembly in Harrogate! I will go. I will!”

Lindeth went quietly away, hearing the storm break behind him. Miss Trent was coming down the stairs, and paused, looking enquiringly at him. “How do you do? Tell me at once! The ridotto?”

He burst out laughing. “Well, yes! Coupled with Mrs Underhill’s saying she might not go to a Harrogate Assembly.”

Miss Trent closed her eyes for an anguished moment. “I see. How prudent of you to slip away, sir! Would that I could do so too! She will sulk for days!”

Chapter 12

That Tiffany refrained from sulking was due to Miss Trent, who waited only until they were alone in the room to utter words which provided her with food for reflection. She said cheerfully that she did not wonder at it that Tiffany was bored with her admirers, but that she thought she might have chosen a better way of being rid of them. Tiffany stared at her.

“Nothing, of course, makes a gentleman retire more quickly than a fit of the tantrums; but you should recollect that a reputation for being ill-tempered would be most prejudicial to your success. As for being rude and unkind to your aunt—indeed, Tiffany, I had not thought you such a wet-goose! What will become of you if you drive off all your admirers?”

“I d-don’t! I c-couldn’t!” Tiffany stammered.

“It can be done more easily than you know,” replied Ancilla. “You have accomplished it with Lord Lindeth; and, unless I am much mistaken, we shan’t see Arthur Mickleby at Staples for some time to come. Your aunt tells me that you spoke slightingly of his sisters. How stupid of you, Tiffany! and how dreadfully ill-bred! How came you to do such a thing?”

“I don’t care! I only said they were stuffy, and they are! And I don’t care a button for Arthur either! And I didn’t drive Lindeth off! I didn’t! He’s jealous, because his cousin is teaching me to drive! I have only to smile, at him—How dare you look like that? I tell you—”

“You will be wasting your breath,” interrupted Miss Trent. “Try to believe that I am rather more up to snuff than you! I am, you know. Don’t glare at me! When your aunt Burford engaged me to be your companion, she particularly desired me to teach you how to go on in society, and if I didn’t warn you that your conduct lately has been such as to give people a disgust of you, I should be failing in my duty.”

“Disgust! Of me?It’s not true!” Tiffany gasped, white with rage.

“If you will stop preening yourself on your beauty, and allow yourself the indulgence of a few moments’ reflection, I think you must realize that it is true,” responded Miss Trent. “Before you began to fancy yourself to be a Nonpareil beyond criticism you were used to take care not to fly into unbecoming rages when any stranger was present; but during these past weeks you have grown to be so puffed up in your own conceit that you seem to think you may go your unbridled length and still command everyone’s admiration. Well, you were never more mistaken! That is all I have to say to you—and I’ve said it only because I can’t reconcile it with my conscience not to warn you to mend your ways.”

She then opened a book, and apparently became so absorbed in it that the furious tirade directed at her did not cause her to betray by the flicker of an eyelid that she heard a word of it. Tiffany slammed out of the room, and was not seen again until she came down to dinner; but as she then seemed to be in her softest mood, even speaking affectionately to Charlotte, and politely to her aunt, Miss Trent was encouraged to suppose that her words had not failed of their intended effect. Towards her, Tiffany adopted a manner of frigid disdain, which had not abated by the following morning, when she refused every offer made by her companion to minister to her entertainment. So Miss Trent, unabashed, left her to her own devices, or (as she suspected) to the attentions of Mr Calver, and seized the opportunity to pay a call on Mrs Chartley, with a copy of the recipe for pickling white mushrooms tucked into her reticule. Charlotte was fretful, and would not go with her, so she went to the village alone, and, having delivered a large parcel at the Crown, to be picked up by the carrier, drove the gig into the Rectory stableyard.

She found Mrs Chartley in her morning-parlour, and received the usual kind welcome from her. Mrs Chartley thanked her for the recipe, enquired after Charlotte, and, when Ancilla would have taken her leave, begged her to sit down for a few minutes.

“I am very glad to see you, Miss Trent,” she said, “because I fancy you can perhaps answer a question which is teasing me a good deal.” She smiled. “Rather an odd question, you may think—but I know I may depend upon your discretion.”

“Certainly you may, ma’am.”

Mrs Chartley hesitated. “Yes. If I did not—Miss Trent, I find myself in a quandary! I daresay you are aware that Lord Lindeth is growing extremely particular in his attentions to Patience?”

“I wasn’t aware of it, ma’am. I have been constantly with Charlotte, you know. But I am not at all surprised. He always liked her, and I have frequently thought that he and Miss Chartley might have been made for one another. I hope you don’t dislike it? I have a great regard for Lord Lindeth—as far as I know him—and I believe him to be really worthy of Miss Chartley.”

“No. No, I don’t dislike it—though I own to some feelings of doubt at the outset. He appeared to me to be violently in love with Tiffany, which argues a volatility I cannot like.”

“I had rather say that he was dazzled by her, as so many have been. He might have loved her if her disposition had matched her face, which, alas, it does not! You are thinking that the change in his sentiments was very sudden, but I fancy he began to be disillusioned quite early in their acquaintance. There were several occasions when—But I should not be talking of them!”

“You need not scruple to speak frankly: if her conduct at Leeds is anything to judge by, I can readily understand Lindeth’s disillusionment. But to turn so soon from Tiffany to Patience does disquiet me! The Rector, however, sets very little store by it. Indeed, he seems to think it perfectly natural that a young man, when he is ripe for falling in love (as he puts it), should transfer his affection to another, when he finds he has mistaken his own heart. It seems very odd to me, but I am well aware, of course, that men are odd, even the best of them!”

“And Miss Chartley, ma’am?” Ancilla said, smiling.

“I am very much afraid that she is in danger of forming a lasting attachment,” replied Mrs Chartley, with a sigh. “She is not volatile, you know, and if he were again to discover that he had mistaken his heart—”

“Forgive me!” Ancilla interposed. “I collect that you believe Lindeth to be fickle. But I have been a great deal in his company, and I have had the opportunity to observe his infatuation. AsIhave said, it might have deepened into love,but it never did so. And—I do assure you, ma’am, that it would have been wonderful indeed if an ardent young man, having at that time formed no real attachment, had not succumbed to Tiffany’s beauty, and to the encouragement he received from her.”