False Colours

‘Not one of your more diverting jokes, brother,’ replied Kit. ‘I mean it hasn’t sent me into whoops, precisely!’

‘I know, I know! don’t rake me down!’ Evelyn begged, in a penitent voice. ‘The fact is, I’m blue-devilled!’

Kit nodded, but said: ‘Very likely. Of course we’re in the deuce of a hobble, but we shall bring ourselves off! When did we ever fail to?’

Evelyn smiled at him. ‘True! Don’t let us talk about my affairs: I’ll retire to Leicestershire. Let’s discuss yours instead! I suppose you can’t immediately announce your engagement to Cressy, but I’m strongly of the opinion that you should see Stavely before you go back to Vienna, and get his consent. I’ve been considering that, and I think I should go with you to Mount Street.’

‘I don’t know that, but I agree that I must see Stavely as soon as may be possible. But my affairs are simpler than yours, and don’t call for discussion, Eve.’

‘Mine are beyond discussion,’ Evelyn answered. ‘I’ve had plenty of time for thought, and I can see that my case is pretty hopeless. You said as much last night, didn’t you?’

‘I neither said it nor thought it.’

‘Well, you said that my uncle will be opposed to my marriage to Patience Askham, and that is the same thing. I’ve tried to think he might not dislike it, but of course he will. How could I ask Patience to wait for six years? Even if I were sure that she loved me! I haven’t – I haven’t tried to fix her interest, and as things are – No, even if her father would permit me to declare myself, I mustn’t do it.’

‘If ever I knew such a fellow!’ exclaimed Kit, in a rallying tone. ‘Either you’re in alt, or in flat despair!’ He laid a hand on Evelyn’s knee, and gripped it. ‘You’re not quite knocked up, you gudgeon! I shall try to see my uncle before I leave England, and though I don’t yet know just what I shall tell him you may depend upon it that your part in my story will be positively saintly!’

‘If you try to pitch it as rum as that, he’ll smell out a hoax immediately!’ Evelyn interrupted, laughing in spite of himself.

‘Not at all! I fancy you sacrificed your own interests to further mine – and that he will believe. It won’t do to say anything about Miss Askham, and I don’t mean to. You will have to wait for a period, but not for very long, if you will but stop committing what he calls extravagant follies. Spend more of your time here, twin, and interest yourself in the estate! In fact, interest yourself to such a pitch that he’ll be only too glad to relinquish his authority! Urge improvements, demand information – pester him! Add a melancholy air to your demeanour, as though you had suffered a disappointment, and ten to one he’ll be so much concerned that he’ll greet with relief your engagement to Miss Askham!’

He spoke with a gay confidence which amused Evelyn, and served, for the moment, to put up his spirits; but he was not himself convinced. He knew his uncle’s inflexible nature too well to believe that he could be easily persuaded; nor was he able to entertain any hopes that he would look with favour upon Evelyn’s marriage to one whom he would infallibly consider a nobody. Knowing his twin, he entertained almost as little hope that Evelyn would adhere for any length of time to the line of conduct he had suggested to him. His disposition was too impetuous, his spirits too volatile, to enable him to wait, enduring boredom and frustration with patience. He would fall into one of his fits of despair, and seek alleviation in sprees and revel-routs.

It was therefore in a mood of considerable anxiety that Kit at last left his twin, and walked slowly back to the house, cudgelling his brain to discover a way to overcome difficulties which bore all the appearance of being insuperable. He began to feel almost as depressed as Evelyn, and was not cheered by the intelligence, imparted to him by Norton, upon his entering the house, that Miss Stavely had driven out with the Dowager. By way of solace, Norton offered him the newspapers, the post having come in some time previously.

It had brought no letters for Evelyn, but several for Lady Denville, and two franked by Lord Stavely, and addressed to his mother and his daughter.

Cressy was carrying her letter when she entered Lady Denville’s drawing-room, and she said, as she shut the door: ‘Godmama, I have had such good news from Papa! Albinia was brought to bed on Tuesday, and was delivered of a son! Papa is so delighted! He writes very briefly – just to tell me that it is a very fine child, and Albinia going on prosperously, in spite of a difficult labour.’ She broke off suddenly perceiving that Lady Denville had been crying. She went swiftly forward, falling on her knees beside her ladyship’s chair, and saying: ‘What is it? Dearest, dearest Godmama, what has happened?’

Lady Denville made a huge effort to pull herself together, responding, with a valiant smile: ‘Why, nothing in the world, dear child! What was that you said? Your father has a son? Well, that is charming – at least, I suppose one must say it is, though for my part I consider he should have been content with his daughter, for it isn’t as though he had no brothers to succeed him, and I cannot think that any son of Albinia Gillifoot’s will be anything but an odious child!’

Cressy gave an involuntary giggle, but said: ‘Never mind that! Only tell me what has happened to distress you, ma’am!’ Her eyes fell upon a closely written sheet of paper, lying on the table at Lady Denville’s elbow. ‘You have received disturbing news, ma’am? I do most sincerely trust you – you haven’t suffered a bereavement? One of your sisters, or your brothers?’

‘Oh no, nothing of that nature!’ Lady Denville assured her. ‘Much, much worse! Of course, I should be excessively sorry to hear that any of them had died, but I shouldn’t cry about it, because I hardly ever see any of them, and Baverstock and Amelia I positively dislike! To own the truth, it made me feel very low when I saw Evelyn this morning. Just when Kit had made me so happy, too! Dearest Cressy, indeed I am overjoyed! You are the very wife for my darling Kit, and so I’ve been thinking for the past sennight!’

Emerging from her ladyship’s scented embrace, Cressy blushed, laughed, and said: ‘Thank you, ma’am! I hope I may prove you right!

I only know that he is the very husband for me! But why did it make you feel low to see Evelyn? Do you fear he may be worse injured than Kit thinks?’

‘Oh no, I shouldn’t think so! To be sure, he does look rather pulled, poor lamb, but that’s nothing! Cressy, did Kit tell you about Miss Askham?’

‘To be sure he did! I understand she is a very beautiful and – and sweet girl!’

‘Well, she may be,’ said Lady Denville doubtfully. ‘But her name is Patience!’

‘How pretty!’ said Cressy, in encouraging accents. ‘Rather – rather Quakerish, and refreshingly unusual!’

‘Do you think so?’ Lady Denville grew still more doubtful. ‘But I fear she is Quakerish, Cressy, and, try as I will, I cannot feel that she will suit Evelyn! You know, my love – and I can say this to you now, without any hiding of the truth! – the girls he has previously fallen in love with have all been very lively and dashing!’

Cressy smiled. ‘But he has quite quickly fallen out of love with them, hasn’t he, ma’am? Perhaps – being so dashing himself? – a quiet, gentle girl will suit him much better. I believe it is often so.’

‘Yes, that is what Kit says. Kit thinks that this time Evelyn has formed a lasting passion, and of course Kit knows him as no one else does. But if he wanted a quiet girl I can’t conceive why he couldn’t have fallen in love with you, dearest! It seems so capricious of him! Not that I grudge you to Kit, for Evelyn is not my favourite son, whatever Kit may say. I love them both equally, and so he knows! The thing is that Evelyn is closer to me, because we have always lived together; but Kit is so much more dependable, and the greatest comfort to me! And I should think,’ she added reflectively, ‘that he will make a charming husband.’

‘Yes, so do I,’ agreed Cressy, her eyes warm with amusement. She clasped one of Lady Denville’s hands, and ventured to say: ‘I feel, too, that Miss Askham will make a charming wife.’

‘No,’ said her ladyship decidedly. ‘Not charming, Cressy! A good wife, I daresay – in fact, I am sure of it, and it does make me feel very low, because she sounds to me to be such an insipid girl!’

Cressy patted her hand. ‘Oh no, I am persuaded you won’t think her so! I expect she is shy merely.’