“He never said so!”
“Oh no, poor darling! But he asked me to forgive him for—for having failed at such a crisis, and left me in the lurch, and it almost broke my heart, because if it weren’t for my crushing debts, he could marry Patience tomorrow. I begged him not to think of them, but although he laughed, and turned it off, he was obliged to own that he does think of them, and—and has no hope of being able to marry Patience for years and years—which is as good as to say Never! Because it would be folly to suppose that his Uncle Brumby will approve of such a match, you know. And then he tried to joke me, saying that it was not my fault at all, but his, for having made his father think him too volatile to be trusted to manage his affairs, and that was almost more than I could bear, Cressy! Only, when he saw how distressed I was, he rallied me, in his enchanting way, saying that we were both blue-devilled, and that things weren’t so very bad, because even though it might not be in his power to discharge my debts at present, he knew he could compound with my creditors, or some such thing, and so there was nothing for me to worry about, or him either. I dare say you will think it very foolish of me to have believed he could do it, but—but when Evelyn sets out to coax me out of the hips, he is so very gay and persuasive that one cannot help feeling reassured! And I did feel that perhaps something could be done, if people knew they would be paid back as soon as Evelyn is thirty, and I was quite cheerful when I left him. And then the post came in, and—and brought me a shattering letter!” She ended on a sob and dabbed at her eyes again. “Mr—well, never mind his name! You wouldn’t know him, but he lent me rather a large sum of money some years ago, when I was quite at my wits’ end. I truly believed I should be able to give it back to him at the next quarter, when my allowance was paid, but it turned out to be otherwise. Indeed, it was wholly impossible, as I was obliged to explain to him. But I did contrive to pay him the interest, and invited his daughter to one of my parties, besides taking her for two drives with me in the Park, and introducing her to hosts of people, so what more could I do? And now he has written me a long letter, saying that much as he sympathizes with me, he cannot afford to continue in this way, because he has had a great many expenses which have been a sad drain on his purse, and so he must, though with the utmost reluctance, beg me to refund the sum he lent me. And, which I find more upsetting than anything, and quite outweighs his civility, he didn’t even get a frank for his letter, so that I have had to pay two shillings for it! At least, someone did, probably Norton, but it is the same thing—except that it will be poor Evelyn who will pay it in the end, when he pays all the household accounts.”
With only the faintest tremor in her voice, Cressy replied gravely: “A—a want of delicacy in him, to be sure, ma’am!”
“Exactly so! And in general, you know, he is a very gentlemanlike person.” She sighed. “I shall be obliged to repay him, but Evelyn is to know nothing about it. No, and not Kit either, mind that, Cressy! I trust you not to mention it to him!”
“Very well, ma’am, but—but can you repay the sum?” asked Cressy diffidently.
“Yes,” Lady Denville replied, “All my debts—all of them!” She rose, and picked up the offending letter, and carried it to her tambour-topped writing-desk, and put it away in one of the drawers. She said, in a constricted tone: “I have quite made up my mind to it. I ought to have done so when Denville died, but I could not bring myself to it. But now I can, and I will, because however bad a mother I have been there is nothing I wouldn’t do for my beloved sons! Now, pray, Cressy, don’t tell Kit that I cried a little!”
Cressy got up from her knees. “I won’t tell him anything you don’t wish me to, Godmama, but won’t you tell me how you mean to pay your debts, and—and why it makes you so unhappy?”
“Well, to own the truth, dearest, it utterly sinks my spirits only to think of going to live abroad, with a sensible female companion—but I dare say I shall soon grow accustomed!” said her ladyship, gallantly smiling.
“Going to live abroad with a—But why?” demanded Cressy, in bewilderment.
“Henry will insist on it. I know he will! Once before, when the twins were babies, he and Louisa—his sister—persuaded Denville that that was the only thing to be done with me, because—Oh, there were so many reasons, but it is a long time ago now, and it never happened, because the continent became quite unsafe, on account of Napoleon, which is why I never could dislike him as much as others did! But now the war is over, and people who find themselves run off their legs, like poor Brummell, go and live at horridly cheap places, where there are no parties, or gaming, or races, or anybody one knows!”
Cressy said indignantly: “Lord Brumby couldn’t be so inhuman!”
“Yes, he could,” answered her ladyship. “Either that, or the Dower House here—and very likely he won’t even offer me the Dower House, because he will think it is situated too close to Brighton, or that he couldn’t stop me going up to London, once my debts were paid.”
“Well, one thing is certain!” said Cressy, her eyes kindling. “Neither Evelyn nor Kit would countenance such an arrangement!”
“No,” agreed her ladyship. “Not if they know about it, and that is a very comforting thought! But I shall say that I would like to go abroad for a time, when Evelyn is married. And perhaps I shall be able to visit you and Kit, so it won’t be so very bad!”
After a slight pause, Cressy said slowly: “I think it would be very bad. Not at all the thing for you, Godmama! You would find living with a respectable female a dead bore.”
“I know I shall,” sighed Lady Denville. “And if it has to be my sister Harriet, it will be worse than a bore!”
“Oh no, that wouldn’t do at all!” Cressy said decidedly. She glanced at her ladyship, and gave a little laugh. “You mustn’t live with any female, ma’am! Consider, you have been used always to live with a gentleman! I know myself that one can’t easily accustom oneself to female companionship when that has been the case. That was why I was ready to accept Evelyn’s offer, even though I didn’t love him.”
“Yes, but—” Lady Denville broke off, an arrested expression on her face. Watching her, Cressy saw the mischievous look creep into her eyes. Suddenly she gave a tiny gurgle of laughter, and turned, and impulsively embraced Cressy. “Dearest, you have put a—a notion into my head! It is too absurd, and I am not at all sure—or even if—Well, I must think! So go away now, dear child, and don’t say a word to anyone about the talk we’ve had!”
“No, I won’t, I promise you,” Cressy said. “I am going to drive out with Grandmama for an hour. Papa’s letter has wonderfully restored her! She is aux anges, and is even prepared to forgive Albinia for having married him. I am strongly of the opinion that now is the moment to tell her that Kit is Kit, and not Evelyn, and if she continues in this benign humour I mean to do it!”
19
Sir Bonamy, waking from his afternoon nap, yawned, sighed, and refreshed himself with a pinch of snuff. He then picked up the Morning Post, which Norton, tiptoeing into the room, had laid on a table at his elbow, and cast a lacklustre eye over its columns. The only items of interest to him were contained on the page devoted to the activities of the ton; and, since London, in July, was almost deserted, these consisted mostly of such arid pieces of information as that Lady X, with her three daughters, was visiting Scarborough; or that the Duchess of B—was taking the waters at Tunbridge Wells. Brighton news occupied most of the space; and Sir Bonamy read, nostalgically, that His Royal Highness the Prince Regent had entertained a party of distinguished guests at the Pavilion, dinner, to which a select company had been invited, having been followed by a brilliant soirée, with music. Sir Bonamy could not have been said to have shared his royal crony’s taste for music, but he would have enjoyed the dinner, to which he would most certainly have been bidden. Then he read that His Royal Highness the Duke of York was expected to arrive at the Pavilion at the end of the week; and this so painfully sharpened his nostalgia that he decided that the end of the week should also see the return of Sir Bonamy Ripple to the Pavilion.