She would have been less complacent had she known that he made it his business to call in Upper Wimpole Street on the following day, to see how the ladies went on after what he termed, with slightly ponderous humour, their night’s raking. He was by no means their only visitor, several other gentlemen having presented themselves on the slimmest of pretexts, and Endymion Dauntry on no pretext at all; but he was generally felt to have scored a point by stressing his relationship to the Merrivilles, and by adopting towards them an air of kindness which verged on the avuncular, and would have aroused feelings of strong resentment in the breasts of the three gentlemen he found in possession had he not made it plain that it was Frederica, and not Charis, who was the object of his solicitude.
During the week after the Alverstoke ball, the Misses Merriville received a number of invitations; and Miss Winsham was honoured by a visit from Lady Jersey, who brought with her the promised vouchers for Almack’s. She came partly because she was curious, partly because she wished to oblige Alverstoke, and to disoblige his sister Louisa; and by the time she was treading up the stairs in Buddle’s wake she was regretting her condescension. She was capricious, but she placed herself on a high form, and had never yet been known to tolerate mushrooms, still less to lend them consequence. She thought the house shabby-genteel; and remembered that Fred Merriville was said to have married a provincial nobody. It was too late to draw back, but she entered the drawing-room with every intention of keeping Miss Winsham at a proper distance. Two minutes were enough, however, to make her abandon her high and imposing manners: Miss Win-sham’s dress might be old-fashioned, and she was certainly eccentric, but she was not shabby-genteel, and she set as little more by a visit from the Queen of the Ton as she had set by Lady Buxted’s previous call. In one of her top-lofty moods, Lady Jersey might have got on to her high ropes; she chose instead to be diverted; and by the time Miss Winsham had favoured her with her opinion of London houses in general, and furnished ones in particular; of marriage, of coxcombs, and of the groundless self-satisfaction of the male sex, she was in a ripple of laughter, and went away to spread a report amongst her friends that Miss Winsham was the drollest creature — very blue — full of dry humour — and without an ounce of flummery about her.
Lady Jersey was not universally popular, her airs and graces leading ill-disposed persons to liken her to a Tragedy Jill, and her frequent gross incivilities to those unfortunate enough to have incurred her displeasure shocking even such haughty dames as Mrs Burrell and the Countess Lieven, but where she led few ladies refused to follow. Miss Winsham, therefore, received a number of visits which should have gratified her very much more than they did; and when (under strong protest) she escorted her nieces to Almack’s. she found herself so much sought-after, and her lightest pronouncements greeted with so much appreciation, that she might have began to have thought herself a wit of the first water had she been susceptible to flattery. As it was, she was obliged to transform a twinge of rheumatism into a severe attack of sciatica, and on this score to refuse all the invitations showered upon her, delegating the task of chaperoning her nieces to Lady Buxted, or to Mrs Dauntry.
Which of these two ladies was the more reluctant to perform this office would have been hard to decide; but each was constrained by much the same considerations to do so with the appearance, at least, of goodwill, Lady Buxted having the liveliest fear that her unnatural brother would not hesitate to repudiate the steadily rising pile of bills from the modistes supplying Jane (and, indeed, herself) with gowns, shawls, hats, gloves, and all the embellishments indispensable to those wishing to make a creditable appearance in tonnish circles; and Mrs Dauntry, while not grudging one of the guineas she lavished upon her elder daughter’s raiment, foreseeing that unless she could depend upon Alverstoke for rescue she would be obliged to practise a number of extremely disagreeable economies. Of the two, however, she was the more to be pitied, for whereas Lady Buxted knew that Carlton was not attracted by Charis, and believed that he had too much commonsense even to consider contracting an engagement to Frederica, Mrs Dauntry had no such consolations. Endymion, dazzled at the outset by Charis, had fallen violently in love with her, and was behaving, as even his doting parent was obliged to own, like a mooncalf, bestowing every degree of attention upon Charis, gazing adoringly at her, positively sitting in her pocket, and showing alarming signs of trying to fix his interest with her. Mrs Dauntry could only hope that his passion would wane as swiftly as it had waxed, for on his commonsense she had no dependence at all. To make matters worse, Chloë had struck up an ardent friendship with Charis: a circumstance which provided Endymion with an excellent excuse for haunting Upper Wimpole Street. Always, in his indolent way, a kind brother, he became overnight a paragon, devoting himself (as much as his not very arduous military duties allowed) to her entertainment. He squired her to parties, and even to Almack’s, which he had previously avoided, thinking the select assemblies very poor sport; he promenaded with her in the park; and whenever she visited Charis she could be pretty sure of his escort. From their earliest days she and her sister, Diana, had adored and admired him, but as he was some years their senior they had regarded him more in the light of a magnificent personage who bestowed sugar-plums upon them, and occasionally took them to Astley’s Royal Amphitheatre, or to the pantomime at Sadler’s Wells, than as their contemporary. Chloë had not expected him to bestir himself on her behalf, even though she was no longer a schoolgirl, but a young lady launched into her first season, and she was touchingly grateful, telling her mother, in a burst of confidence, that to possess a big brother as handsome and as goodnatured as Endymion was the most charming thing in the world. “It gives me such a wonderful feel, Mama, when he accompanies us to parties! And you can’t think how delightful it is to go out walking with him, and not with Diana and Miss Nunny! I’m sure no one ever had such a splendid brother!”
Only Mrs Dauntry’s sincere fondness for her children enabled her to respond, after a short struggle with herself: “Very true, dearest!” To her devoted cousin Harriet, however, she later expressed herself with great freedom, bewailing Endymion’s infatuation, and saying that it went to her heart to see her poor, innocent Chloë so much deluded. “Well do I know that he only escorts us to parties because he wants an excuse for dangling after that wretched Charis Merriville! Oh, my dear Harriet, she has positively bewitched him — yes, and Chloë too! Oh, what a designing creature she is!”
To these remarks, and to a great many others of the same nature, Miss Plumley responded with soothing duckings, and a number of contradictory statements which appeared to exercise a beneficial effect on the widow. She was sure that Endymion was not bewitched; and in the same rambling sentence recalled to his mother’s mind the various damsels with whom he had previously fallen madly in love. She could not think that Charis was a designing girl, but she suspected her of setting her cap at Lord Wrenthorpe, or Sir Digby Meeth. Nor could she think that Endymion — such an excellent brother! — had any ulterior motive in squiring dear Chloë to balls; although she could not help feeling how fortunate it was that the hope of meeting Charis at them made him so willing to escort his sister to a form of entertainment to which he was not, in general, much addicted. Such a comfort it must be to dearest Lucretia, in her indifferent state of health, to be able to entrust Chloë to his care!