Cotillion

‘I should think he would drive anyone out of her wits,’ observed Meg, sipping her coffee. ‘He must be the most odious person imaginable!’

‘Yes, but in her last letter Fish wrote that he was behaving quite amiably. Besides, she is really so much accustomed to his odd ways that she would not make a fuss only because he had thrown his stick at her, or something of that nature. But there can be no doubt that something is amiss, for she begs me to return so that she may tell me what has happened.’

‘But you cannot!’ said Meg, putting down her cup.

‘No, and she seems to feel that, for there is something here which I think is spare you for one day. That must mean you, Meg. Oh, yes! Now I see! That word, which I took to be Ladybirds, must be Lady Buckhaven! Then there is something I cannot read, and being thought a cockatrice.’

‘Who?’ demanded Meg. ‘If she means me, I think it is excessively uncivil of her, besides being unjust, for I never saw her but once in all my life!’

‘Perhaps it isn’t cockatrice. Yet it certainly looks like it. However, here, on the very next line, is something about Henry VIII, so I don’t think it can be.’

‘She cannot be writing to you about Henry VIII!’ objected Meg.

‘Well, one would think not, but you may see for yourself!’ replied Kitty, showing her the sheet.

The fair head and the dark were bent over it. ‘I must say, it does seem to be Henry VIII,’ admitted Meg. ‘Perhaps she is likening Uncle Matthew to him! He was very disagreeable too, wasn’t he?’

‘Yes, so he was! He had rages, and cut off people’s heads. No doubt that is it! But who can this Katherine be?’

‘Katherine of Aragon!’ said Meg brilliantly.

‘No, I am sure it’s not Aragon. Besides, how absurd! They must have been obliged to turn one of the maids off, and hire a new one. Perhaps Uncle Matthew has taken a

dislike to her. He usually does.’

‘I cannot conceive why Miss Fishguard should beg you to go home only because she has engaged a new servant.’

‘Oh, no, and it seems not to be that at all, for I can distinctly make out unable to write it, and, a little farther on something about my generosity. Then there is a word which looks like treason, so it can have nothing to do with this Katherine. It must be Henry VIII again, and yet—You know, Meg, I think I shall be obliged to post down to Arnside, if Freddy will be so good as to take me, when he comes back to town, for there can be no doubt that poor Fish is in great distress!’

Meg agreed to it, though rather reluctantly. She said that she feared that Kitty would be persuaded to remain at Arnside; and Kitty, once more stricken by the warm kindliness of the Standens, forbore to tell her that the day was rapidly approaching when she must for ever lose her young chaperon. The only salve Kitty could find to apply to her unquiet conscience was the knowledge that she had really been of use to Meg.

Soon after breakfast, Meg, arrayed in a blue velvet pelisse, and the only one of her hats which she thought likely to escape the criticism of the censorious, went off to pay a dutiful call on her husband’s Aunt Maria, with whom she had untruthfully announced her intention of dining, on the night of the masquerade. Kitty offered to accompany her, but Meg thought that it would be better if Aunt Maria did not set eyes on her. Having contrived to convey to the formidable lady, who, mercifully, disapproved so strongly of frivolity that she rarely went into society, the impression that Freddy’s betrothed was a very sober girl, of strict upbringing and rigid principles, it would clearly be an act of madness to present to her a dashing young female, ravishingly attired in a morning dress of twilled French silk, and with her hair cut and curled in the very latest mode. ‘Besides, Aunt Maria would be bound to say you were fast, because she thinks all pretty females must be.’

‘I?’ gasped Kitty. ‘Pretty?’

‘Now, Kitty, don’t be missish! You know you are! Papa was saying only the other day that you have a great deal of countenance. Of course, the thing that particularly pleases Mama is that you have such excellent taste. She sets the greatest store by that, you know, and says she shall be very glad to take you about with her as soon as she is able, because you will do us all such credit! Shall you be going out? If you are in Bond Street, I wish you will take back The Pastor’s Fireside to Hookham’s—unless you mean to read it yourself, but I do not at all recommend it!’

She then departed, leaving her guest to peruse the morning papers before sallying forth on her errand. She had just put on her hat and pelisse, and was descending the stairs to the hall when Lord Dolphinton, having tugged violently at the bell and banged the knocker several times for good measure, was admitted into the house.

‘Miss Charing!’ uttered his lordship, in agitated accents.

‘I fancy, my lord, that Miss has but this instant stepped out, but I will enquire,’ bowed Skelton.

‘Wait for her!’ said Dolphinton, thrusting his hat and cane upon the slightly startled butler. ‘Must see her! Important!’

‘Good gracious, Dolph, whatever is the matter?’ exclaimed Kitty, hurrying down the stairs.

Dolphinton clutched her hand, and said in a gasp: ‘Must see you!’

‘Yes, yes, of course!’ said Kitty. ‘Come into the breakfast-parlour, and tell me all about it!’

He allowed himself to be led into this apartment; but when she had shut the door, and pushed him gently into a chair by the fire, he seemed to find the greatest difficulty in enunciating a word. He sat opening and shutting his mouth for some moments, staring at her with such an expression of misery on his face that she became alarmed, and begged him to tell her if anything terrible had happened to Miss Plymstock.

He swallowed convulsively. ‘Not Hannah. Me! Don’t know what to do. Obliged to offer for you again!’

She could not help laughing. ‘Now, Dolph, don’t be absurd! I collect that your Mama has been teasing you?’

He nodded. ‘Says I must sweep you off your feet. I don’t want to. Don’t want to sweep anybody off her feet. Not even Hannah. Don’t know how. Besides, Freddy wouldn’t like it. Might call me out. Not going to fight a duel with Freddy! Won’t do it! I like Freddy! Like him better than Hugh, or—’