She knew it; and since she too was a stranger to love or tenderness she shrugged as carelessly as she could, and was clever enough to let it be seen, before his waning interest had been observed by the ton, that it was she who had wearied of him. Not quite as clever as Lady Jersey, she did not doubt that the beautiful Miss Charis Merriville was Alverstoke’s latest inamorata, but she bore the introduction with smiling equanimity, merely murmuring to him, at a convenient moment: “Take care, dear friend! When men of your age develop tendres for schoolgirls it is held to be a sign of senility!”
“I’ll take care!” he promised, answering smile with smile.
Charles Trevor had warned the Marquis that Endymion might not relish having his cousin Jane as his dinner-partner, but he soon realized that not Endymion but Jane was the principal sufferer. He and Charis were seated immediately opposite the cousins; and Endymion, either bemused, or feeling that he owed no particular civility to Jane, spent the better part of his time gazing raptly across the table at the fair vision before him. It was not the least part of Charis’s charm that she rated her beauty low; and, as she always gave her attention to whatever person happened to be conversing with her, she was generally unconscious of the admiring looks cast at her. If she did become aware that she was being stared at she was not at all gratified, but mentally condemned the admirer as a horridly rude person, and wondered if she had a spot forming, or had smudged her face. Neither of these fears crossed her mind when she looked up to find Endymion’s brown eyes worshipfully upon her. She blushed, and immediately looked away, but although she wished he would not stare at her it did not occur to her that he was being horridly rude. He was the most splendid young man she had ever seen: the personification of all the heroes who (according to Aunt Seraphina) had no existence beyond the bounds of balladry, or the marbled covers of a romantic novel. If she had not known that he was watching her she would have stolen several glances at him; but she did know it, and, being a well-brought-up girl, she took care not to look at him again.
Farther up the table, Frederica, with every appearance of interest, was encouraging Lord Buxted to instruct her in the details of estate management. Lady Jersey, on the other side of the table, observed both sisters from under her lashes, and said suddenly: “Very well indeed, Alverstoke! I like them. Easy, unaffected manners, both of them; and the Beauty has a modesty which is particularly engaging. Did you invite me here to coax me to bestow vouchers for Almack’s on them?”
This challenge, delivered with one of her ladyship’s rapier-looks, in no way disconcerted him. Satisfied that Lady Sefton, on his left hand, was engaged in conversation with Mr Moreton, he replied coolly: “No. Only to save me from insufferable boredom, Sally! I rely upon Louisa to procure vouchers for them.”
“She won’t do it,” said Lady Jersey decidedly. “She will tell you that Mrs Burrell refused to oblige her; and even you, unfeeling monster that you are, could scarcely expect her to apply to Emily Cowper at this moment! The Lambs are all shattered by Lady Melbourne’s death, and none of them more so than Emily.” She cast another look down the table, and gave a stifled giggle. “Oh, goodness me, look at Louisa! I’ll do it! Yes, I will do it! If only to bring you to our assemblies; Vernon!”
“It won’t do so, my loved one: I never lay myself open to snubs! Or are your snubs reserved for Dukes?”
A ripple of appreciative laughter broke from her.
“Wellington? But he tried to violate our rules, which you, I am persuaded, would never do!”
“Much you know about it! Ask my loving sisters!”
“No need! I know the answer. How they did snub me — Augusta and Louisa, not my dearest Eliza, be sure! — when they were young ladies, and I a scrubby schoolgirl! Will it vex them to death if I sponsor your wards? Oh, goodness me, of course it must! Maria!” Lady Sefton, her attention thus peremptorily claimed, turned an amiably enquiring gaze upon her friend. “Shall we admit Alverstoke’s wards to Almack’s?”
“Oh, yes, I think we should do so, don’t you? Such, pretty-behaved girls — don’t you agree? Poor Fred Merriville’s daughters, too! Oh, I think we should do what we can for them!” agreed. Lady Sefton, turning back to Mr Moreton.
“Well, I will,” said Lady Jersey. “Oh, but how provoking! Oh, goodness me, what a pea-goose I am! I shall never know now whether that was why you invited me, or not!”
“Never mind!” Alverstoke replied consolingly. “Think how much you will enjoy putting my sisters all on end!”
“Very true!” She sent another glance down the table. “The Beauty will become the rage, of course. The elder has more countenance, but — What’s their fortune, Alverstoke?”
“Respectable.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Ah, that’s a pity! However, one never knows! With that face the younger at least need not despair of achieving an eligible alliance. We shall see!”
XI
One part at least of Lady Jersey’s prophecy was swiftly realized: Miss Charis Merriville could truly be said to have become the rage overnight. Long before the last of the guests had been received by Alverstoke and his sister Louisa, her hand had been bespoken for every dance; and young gentlemen of high fashion, arriving late, were denied the felicity of encircling her waist in the waltz, and even of leading her into a set of country dances. She would not stand up more than twice with anyone, but she allowed Endymion to escort her down to supper, yielding to his earnest assurance that their relationship made all as right as a trivet. He added, reading doubt in her face: “I’ll beg your sister to join us, hey? There she is, with young Greg — m’cousin, you know! You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Oh, yes! How very comfortable! And do, pray, beg your sister to join us!”
He did not care very much for this suggestion, Chloë being squired at the moment by young Lord Wrenthorpe, who was one of the latecomers who had failed to secure a dance with Charis. One of Endymion’s fellow-officers, he had not hesitated to express his opinion of sneaking rascals who stole marches on their friends; and as he was a prime favourite with the ladies, being as audacious as he was lively, Endymion was not at all anxious to include him in the supper-party. He said: “Oh — ah — yes, but she’s with Wrenthorpe, y’know!”
“Wouldn’t he wish to join us?” she asked innocently. “Your mama introduced him to me, and he was so agreeable, and so droll, too, when I was obliged to tell him I couldn’t stand up with him! Your mania said that he was a friend of yours: isn’t he?”
“Oh, yes! Yes, of course! Best of good fellows!”
said Endymion. “Just thought you might not like — family party, y’know! Not one of the family!”
But the matter was then taken out of his control by that best of good fellows, who descended upon them at that moment with Chloë on his arm, having been struck by the same happy notion of forming a cosy supper-party. In this he was warmly seconded by Chloë, who had conceived a youthful admiration for her wonderful new cousin, and was shyly hoping to be admitted to the ranks of her friends. It was useless for Endymion to talk about family parties; his insouciant friend retorted gaily that families always came to cuffs unless a stranger were inserted into their midst. So Endymion had nothing to do but find Frederica and his cousin Gregory, and to bid them to the feast: sped on his errand by his perfidious friend, who adjured him to: “Bustle about, Noddy, or we shan’t be in tune to snabble all the lobster patties!”