He said, “What a spoilsport you are!” but soon found an opportunity to drop it into her lap, for although it had seemed, at the time, a splendid idea to lock the gate into the wood, he had been realizing for some minutes that to release the imprisoned couple without scandal might prove to be rather more difficult.
“It is so unlike dear Eugenia!” said Lady Ombersley. “I cannot think what they can be about!”
“En verdad, it is not difficult to imagine!” remarked the Marquesa, rather amused. “So beautiful a young man and so romantic a scene!”
“I will go and look for them,” said Mr. Rivenhall, getting up, and walking out of the room.
Hubert began to look a little alarmed, but Sophy exclaimed suddenly, “I wonder if one of the gardeners can have locked the gate again, thinking that we had all left the wood! Excuse me, Sancia!”
She overtook Mr. Rivenhall in the shrubbery, and called out, “So stupid! Sancia, you know, lives in dread of robbers and has trained all her servants never to leave a gate or a door unlocked! One of the gardeners, supposing us all to have gone back to the house, locked the gate into the wood. Gaston had the key; here it is!”
A bend in the gravel walk brought the gates into the wood within view. Miss Wraxton was standing by them, and it was plain to the meanest intelligence that she was in no very amiable humor. Behind her, seated upon a bank, and absorbed in metrical composition, was Mr. Fawnhope, to all appearances divorced from the world. As Mr. Rivenhall fitted the key into the lock, Sophy said, “I am so sorry! It is all the fault of Sancia’s absurd terrors! Are you very bored and chilled, Miss Wraxton?”
Miss Wraxton had endured a trying half hour. Upon finding herself shut into the wood, she had first asked Mr. Fawnhope if he could not climb over the fence, and when he had replied, quite simply, that he could not, she had requested him to shout. But the ode that was burgeoning in his head had by this time taken possession of him, and he had said that the sylvan setting was just the inspiration he needed. After that, he sat down on the bank and drew out his notebook and a pencil, and whenever she begged him to bestir himself to procure her release, all he said, and that in a voice that showed how far away were his thoughts, was “hush!” Consequently she was in a mood ripe for murder when the rescue party at last arrived on the scene and was betrayed into an unwise accusation. “You did this!” she flung at Sophy, quite white with anger.
Sophy, who felt sorry for her being discovered in so ridiculous a situation, replied soothingly, “No, it was a foolish servant, who thought we had all gone back to the house. Never mind! Come and drink some of Sancia’s excellent tea!”
“I don’t believe you! You are unprincipled and vulgar and — ”
“Eugenia!” said Mr. Rivenhall sharply. She gave an angry sob, but said no more. Sophy went into the wood to rouse Mr. Fawnhope from his abstraction, and Mr. Rivenhall said: “It was nothing but an accident, and there is no need to be so put out.”
“I am persuaded your cousin did it to make me a laughing stock,” she said in a low voice.
“Nonsense!” he replied coldly.
She saw that he was by no means in sympathy with her, and said, “I need hardly tell you that my aim was to prevent your sister spending the whole afternoon in that odious young man’s company.”
“With the result that she spent it in Talgarth’s company,” he retorted. “There was no reason for you to be so busy, Eugenia. My mother’s presence, not to mention my own, made your action — I shall say unnecessary!”
It might have been supposed that these words of censure filled Miss Wraxton’s cup to the brim, but upon entering the drawing room she found that she had still to endure the Marquesa’s comments. The Marquesa favored the company with a disquisition on the license allowed to young English ladies, contrasting it with the strict chaperonage of Spanish damsels, and everyone with the exception of Mr. Rivenhall, who was markedly silent, felt for Miss Wraxton in her chagrin and made great efforts to placate her, Sophy going so far as to give up her place in the curricle to her on the homeward journey. She was insensibly mollified, but when, later, she tried to justify her actions to her betrothed, he cut her short, saying too much noise had been made already over a trivial occurrence.
“I cannot believe that any of the servants were responsible,” she insisted.
“You would do better to pretend to believe it, however.”
“Then you do not think so either!” she exclaimed.
“No, I think Hubert did it,” he replied coolly. “And if I am right, you have my cousin to thank for speedily releasing you.”
“Hubert!” she cried. “Why should he do such an un-gentlemanly thing, pray?”
He shrugged. “Possibly for a jest, possibly because he resented your interference in Cecilia’s affairs, my dear Eugenia. He is much attached to his sister.”
She said in a deeply mortified tone, “If that is so, I hope you mean to take him to task!”
“I shall do nothing so ill judged,” responded Mr. Rivenhall, at his most blighting.
Chapter 9
SHORTLY AFTER this not entirely successful day in country, Mr. Rivenhall announced his intention of going down to Ombersley for a spell. His mother had no objection to advance, but realizing that the dread moment of disclosure had now come, said, with an assumption of calm she was far from feeling, that she hoped he would come back to London in time to attend Sophy’s party.
“Is it so important?” he asked. “I have no turn for dancing, Mama, and such an evening as you will no doubt pass is of all things the most insipid!”
“Well, it is rather important,” she confessed. “It would be thought strange if you were absent, dear Charles!”
“Good heavens, Mama, I have been absent from all such affairs in this house!”
“As a matter of fact, this party is to be a little larger than we first thought it would be!” she said desperately.
He bent one of his disconcerting stares upon her. “Indeed! I had collected that some twenty persons were to be invited?”
“There — there will be a few more than that!” she said.
“How many more?”
She became intent on disentangling the fringe of her shawl from the arm of her chair. “Well, we thought perhaps it would be best — since it is our first party for your cousin, and your uncle particularly desired me to launch her upon society — to give a set ball, Charles! And your father promises to bring the Duke of York to it, if only for half an hour! It seems he is well acquainted with Horace. I am sure it is most gratifying!”
“How many persons, ma’am, have you invited to this precious ball?” demanded Mr. Rivenhall, ungratified.
“Not — not above four hundred!” faltered his guilty parent. “And they will not all of them come, dear Charles!”
“Four hundred!” he ejaculated. “I need not ask whose doing this is! And who, ma’am, is to foot the bill for this entertainment?”
“Sophy — that is to say, your uncle, of course! I assure you the cost is not to come upon you!”
He was not in the least soothed by this, but, on the contrary, rapped out: “Do you imagine I will permit that wretched girl to pay for parties in this house? If you have been mad enough, ma’am, to consent to this scheme — ” Lady Ombersley prudently sought refuge in tears, and began to grope for her smelling salts. Her son eyed her in a baffled way, and said with painstaking restraint, “Pray do not cry, Mama! I am well aware whom I have to thank for this.”
An interruption, welcome to Lady Ombersley, occurred in the shape of Selina, who bounced into the room, exclaiming: “Oh, Mama! When we gave the ball for Cecilia, did we — ” She then perceived her eldest brother, and broke off short, looking extremely conscious.
“Go on!” said Mr. Rivenhall grimly.