“Come in, dear Sophy!” Lady Ombersley said, in a welcoming tone. “You see that I am wearing the beautiful mantilla instead of a shawl! Such exquisite lace! Miss Wraxton has been much admiring it. You will let me introduce Miss Stanton-Lacy to you, my dear Eugenia. Cecilia will have told you, Sophy, that we are soon to have the joy of counting Miss Wraxton one of the family.”
“Yes, indeed!” said Sophy, smiling, and holding out her hand. “I wish you very happy, Miss Wraxton, and my cousin also.” She turned, having briefly clasped Miss Wraxton’s hand, and extended her own to Charles. “How do you do?”
He shook hands, and discovered that he was being looked at in a manner quite as critical as his own. This surprised him, but it amused him too, and he smiled. “How do you do? I shall not say that I remember you very well, Cousin, for I am sure that neither of us has the least recollection of the other!”
She laughed. “Very true! Not even Aunt Elizabeth could remember me! Cousin — Hubert, is it? — tell me, if you please, about Salamanca, and John Potton! Did you see both safely bestowed?”
She moved a little aside, to talk to Hubert. Lady Ombersley, who had been anxiously watching her son, was relieved to see that he was looking perfectly amiable, even rather appreciative. A half smile lingered on his lips, and he continued to observe Sophy until his attention was recalled by his betrothed.
The Honorable Eugenia Wraxton was a slender young woman, rather above the average height, who was accustomed to hearing herself described as a tall, elegant girl. Her features were aristocratic, and she was generally held to be a good-looking girl, if a trifle colorless. She was dressed with propriety but great modesty in a gown of dove-colored crape, whose sober hue seemed to indicate her mourning condition. Her hair, which she wore in neat bands, was of a soft tint between brown and gold; she had long, narrow hands and feet; and rather a thin chest, which, however, was rarely seen, her mama having the greatest objection to such low-cut bodices as (for instance) Miss Stanton-Lacy was wearing. She was the daughter of an Earl, and, although she was always careful not to appear proud, perfectly aware of her worth. Her manners were gracious, and she took pains to put people at their ease. She had had every intention of being particularly gracious to Sophy, but when she rose to shake hands with her she had found herself looking up into Sophy’s face, which made it very difficult to be gracious. She felt just a little ruffled for a moment, but overcame this, and said to Charles in a low voice, and with her calm smile: “How very tall Miss Stanton-Lacy is! I am quite dwarfed.”
“Yes, too tall,” he replied.
She could not help being glad that he apparently did not admire his cousin, for although she perceived, on closer scrutiny, that Sophy was not as handsome as herself, her first impression had been of a very striking young woman. She now saw that she had been misled by the size and brilliance of Sophy’s eyes; her other features were less remarkable. She said, “Perhaps, a trifle, but she is very graceful.”
Sophy at this moment went to sit down beside her aunt, and Charles caught sight of the fairylike little greyhound, which had been clinging close to her skirts, not liking so many strangers. His brows rose; he said, “We seem to have two guests. What is her name, cousin?”
He was holding down his hand to the greyhound, but Sophy said, “Tina. I am afraid she will not go to you, she is very shy.”
“Oh, yes, she will!” he replied, snapping his fingers.
Sophy found his air of cool certainty rather annoying, but when she saw that he was quite right, and watched her pet making coquettish overtures of friendship, she forgave him, and was inclined to think he could not be as black as he had been painted.
“What a pretty little creature!” remarked Miss Wraxton amiably. “I am not, in general, fond of pets in the house. My mama, dear Lady Ombersley, will never have even a cat, you know, but I am sure this must be quite an exception.”
“Mama has a great liking for pet dogs,” said Cecilia. “We are not usually without one, are we, ma’am?”
“Fat and overfed pugs,” said Charles, with a grimace at his mother. “I prefer this elegant lady, I confess.”
“Oh, that is not the most famous of Cousin Sophy’s pets!” declared Hubert. “You wait, Charles, until you see what else she has brought from Portugal!”
Lady Ombersley stirred uneasily, for she had not yet broken the news to her eldest son that a monkey in a red coat was now king of the schoolroom. But Charles only said, “I understand, Cousin, that you have brought your horse with you too. Hubert can talk of nothing else. Spanish?”
“Yes, and Mameluke-trained. He is very beautiful.”
“I’ll go bail you’re a famous horsewoman, cousin!” Hubert said.
“I don’t know that. I have had to ride a great deal.” The door opened just then, but not, as Lady Ombersley had expected, to admit her butler, with an announcement that dinner awaited her pleasure. Her husband walked in, announcing that he must just catch a glimpse of his little niece before going off to White’s. Lady Ombersley felt that it was bad enough of him to have refused to dine at home in Miss Wraxton’s honor without this added piece of casual behavior, but she did not let her irritation appear; merely saying, “She is not so very little, after all, my love, as you may see.”
“Good Gad!” exclaimed his lordship, as Sophy rose to greet him. Then he burst out laughing, embraced Sophy, and said: “Well, well, well! You’re almost as tall as your father, my dear! Devilish like him, too, now I come to look at you!”
“Miss Wraxton, Lord Ombersley,” said his wife reprovingly.
“Eh? Oh, yes, how-de-do?” said his lordship, bestowing a cheerful nod on Miss Wraxton. “I count you as one of the family, and stand on no ceremony with you. Come and sit down beside me, Sophy, and tell me how your father does these days!”
He then drew Sophy to a sofa, and plunged into animated conversation, recalling incidents thirty years old, laughing heartily over them, and presenting all the appearance of one who had completely forgotten an engagement to dine at his club. He was always well disposed toward pretty young women, and when they added liveliness to their charms, and guessed exactly how he liked to conduct a flirtation, he enjoyed himself very much in their company, and was in no hurry to leave them. Dassett, coming in a few minutes later to announce dinner, took in the situation immediately, and after exchanging a glance with his mistress withdrew again to superintend the laying of another place at the table. When he returned to make his announcement, Lord Ombersley exclaimed: “What’s that? Dinnertime already? I declare, I’ll dine at home after all!”
He then took Sophy down on his arm, ignoring Miss Wraxton’s superior claims to this honor, and as they took their places at the dining table commanded her to tell him what maggot had got into her father’s head to make him go off to Peru.
“Not Peru; Brazil, sir,” Sophy replied.
“Much the same, my dear, and just as outlandish! I never knew such a fellow for traveling all over the world! He’ll be going off to China next!”
“No, Lord Amherst went to China,” said Sophy. “In February, I think. Sir Horace was wanted for Brazil because he perfectly understands Portuguese affairs, and it is hoped he may be able to persuade the Regent to go back to Lisbon. Marshal Beresford has become so excessively unpopular, you know. No wonder! He does not know how to be conciliating and has not a grain of tact.”
“Marshal Beresford,” Miss Wraxton informed Charles, in a well-modulated voice, “is a friend of my father’s.”
“Then you must forgive me for saying that he has no tact,” said Sophy at once, and with her swift smile. “It is perfectly true, but I believe no one ever doubted that he is a man of many excellent qualities. It is a pity that he should be making such a cake of himself.”