“I knew you would!” cried Felix. “I told Jessamy you would!” He paused, before adding tentatively: “In your phaeton, sir?”
“Now, what do you care for phaetons, or horses?” asked Alverstoke. “What you would like me to do would be to drive you to Hyde Park in a Catch-me-who-can!”
“Yes, by Jupiter, wouldn’t I just!” exclaimed Felix, his eyes kindling. “Only you couldn’t, you know, because it ran on lines. The thing is that Jessamy is getting to be so top-lofty, because you let him drive your team, besides riding with him, that there’s no bearing it! So it would be splendid, if you took me instead of him!” A doubt shook him; he cast a look at Lady Elizabeth, and said politely: “If you wouldn’t object to it, ma’am!”
“Certainly not! I shouldn’t dream of watching a balloon ascension from anything so stuffy as a barouche,” she said promptly. “Besides, how else could we take the shine out of Cousin Buxted?”
This very proper speech confirmed him in his impression that she was a right one, and earned for her his fervent gratitude. A caveat, entered by Alverstoke, that phaetons were not designed to accommodate three people, was summarily disposed of, and he then took himself off, leaving Lady Elizabeth to the enjoyment of the mirth that had been consuming her.
XVIII
As a result of Felix’s visit, Lady Elizabeth went to visit Lady Jevington on the following morning. It was surprising, but understandable, that Alverstoke should take an interest in so engaging a young gentleman; but it appeared, from Felix’s artless conversation, that his interest extended to Jessamy — whom he permitted to drive his cherished horses; and that was by no means so understandable, unless this unprecedented behaviour sprang from a wish to gratify the Beauty of the family. Eliza had learnt all about the divine Charis from one of her oldest friend’s rare letters, but she had not set much store by Sally Jersey’s prophecy that Alverstoke would marry a girl who had not yet attained her twentieth birthday. Sally might say that it was always so with hardened bachelors, but she fancied she knew her brother rather better than Sally did, and she had dismissed the prophecy as a mere on-dit.
Dining tête-à-tête with him, she was careful to evince little curiosity about the Misses Merriville, merely saying: “I hope you mean to introduce them to me. If they are as delightful as Felix, I don’t wonder at it that you consented to befriend them! How do they go on? Did you contrive to fire them off successfully?”
“Yes, and without the smallest exertion. I had merely to present them to the ton. I wish you might have seen Louisa’s face when they came into the room! She had met Frederica already, and was agreeably surprised, I fancy, to discover that she is neither in the first blush of youth, nor a beauty, but a passably goodlooking young woman, with a great deal of commonsense, and a somewhat masterful disposition. Louisa was therefore unprepared for Charis.” A reminiscent smile curled his lips. “I suppose I must have seen the Beauties of close on twenty seasons, but I must own I have never seen one comparable to Charis Merriville.” He raised his wineglass, and drank a little. “Face and figure are perfection, and her expression most winning. Impossible to find a fault! Even her carriage is graceful; and it is universally agreed that her manners are particularly pleasing.”
Startled, and considerably dismayed, Eliza said: “Good gracious! I must certainly meet this paragon!”
“You may do so tomorrow, if you choose. She will be at the assembly the Seftons are holding, I imagine. You had better accompany me to it — if only to spare me the gush of reproaches Maria Sefton would swamp me with for not having brought you. I shall be astonished if Charis doesn’t take your breath away.”
Unlike her sisters, Eliza had never tried to provide her only brother with an eligible wife. Relations between them had always been amicable, even mildly affectionate, but no strong ties bound any member of the Dauntry family to another. Happily married to her John Kentmere, absorbed in her progeny, and rarely visiting London, she had little interest in Alverstoke’s future, and had once infuriated Louisa by saying that his marriage was no concern of hers. But installed once more in Alverstoke House, picking up the threads of her old life, she did feel some concern, for it seemed to her that he was on the verge of contracting an alliance which could only end in disaster. However beautiful she might be, this school-room-miss of his would become a dead bore to him within a year of their marriage — probably even sooner! She had set no great store by Lady Jersey’s disclosures, and even less by an impassioned letter from Louisa, recommending her to try what her supposed influence over Alverstoke would do to save him (and the Family) from a shocking mesalliance; but the dithyramb Alverstoke had sung in praise of Charis Merriville had the effect of sending her off next day to visit Augusta. With all her faults, Augusta did not want for sense or judgment.
Lady Jevington received her with temperate pleasure, enquired, with meticulous civility, after the health of her family, and expressed the hope that she would replenish her wardrobe while she was in London. “For I should be failing in my duty as your eldest sister, Eliza, if I did not tell you that that outmoded gown you are wearing gives you a very off appearance,” she said. “No doubt you have come to London for that purpose.”
“Well, I haven’t,” replied Eliza. “I’ve come to discover if it’s true that Vernon had fallen head over ears in love with some highly finished piece of nature not yet out of her teens.”
“Not to my knowledge,” replied Lady Jevington, with majestic cairn. She favoured her sister with a thin smile, in which tolerance and contempt were nicely mixed. “I collect that Louisa has been writing to you. Louisa is a fool.”
“Yes, but Sally is no fool, and she too wrote to me that Vernon stands within an ace of committing what I can’t but feel would be the greatest imprudence of his life!”
“I have never,” stated Lady Jevington, “rated Sarah Fane’s understanding above the average.”
“Augusta, he described the girl to me last night in such terms as I have never heard him use before!”
“He was hoaxing you,” said Lady Jevington.
Eliza frowned in perplexity. “Do yon mean to say that she is not so excessively lovely? But, if that’s so, why should he — ”
“I do not think I have ever seen a more beautiful girl than Charis Merriville — and rarely one who is more prettily behaved,” pronounced her ladyship judicially. “She made an instant hit when she appeared at Ver-non’s ball, which was not wonderful, and now has more than half the eligible bachelors languishing at her feet. Gregory,” she added, with unruffled composure, “is one of them. But nothing will come of that, and I am happy to know that his first fancy should have alighted on a modest girl of excellent principles. I daresay it will do him a great deal of good.”
Eliza said impatiently: “Yes, but Vernon? If he is not in love with the girl, what in the world prevailed upon him to bestir himself, not only on her behalf, but on her brothers’ as well? It is not at all like him!”
“I do not pretend to be in his confidence, but I am tolerably well-acquainted with him, and I believe he presented the Merriville girls merely to spite Louisa, and Lucretia. That Woman,” said Augusta, with awful restraint, “was not behindhand in badgering him to hold a ball at Alverstoke House, to mark Chloë’s come-out, as well as Jane’s. One may guess the means he used to compel Louisa to chaperon the girls! He is at liberty to indulge his freakish whims as he pleases, but I consider that his conduct was most reprehensible. Indeed, I strongly advised him not to yield to Louisa’s and Lucretia’s importunities.”
Restraining the impulse to remind her that Alverstoke had never been known to listen to sisterly advice, Eliza said: “I dare say he might have invited the Merrivilles to his ball to punish Louisa, but that doesn’t account for the rest of it. One of his so-called wards — Felix: the most delightful urchin! — invaded the house yesterday, and it was perfectly plain that he looks upon Vernon as a certain source of indulgences. He doesn’t stand in the least awe of him either, which tells its own tale. Now, why, pray, should Vernon, who is utterly indifferent to our children, interest himself in the Merrivilles, if not because he wishes to make himself acceptable to their sister?”