False Colours

‘No, certainly not any man, but one who loved her, and could be trusted to take care of her, yes! What I do not wish is to see her setting up an establishment of her own – and getting her affairs into heaven only knows what sort of a tangle!’

‘No, by God!’ ejaculated Sir Bonamy. ‘I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re very right, my boy! It wouldn’t do at all! At least I shan’t have that to worry about!’

‘You won’t have anything to worry about!’ Cressy assured him. ‘Will you think me very saucy if I say that never did a knight more thoroughly deserve to win his lady than you, dear sir?’

‘No, no!’ protested Sir Bonamy, much discomposed. ‘Nonsense! Very obliging of you to say so, but no such thing! As a matter of fact, I’m a baronet.’

‘To me,’ said Cressy, avoiding Kit’s eye, ‘you have always seemed like a knight of ancient chivalry!’

‘What, one of those fellows who careered all over, looking for dragons? Well, whatever put such a silly notion as that into your head, my dear girl? Rigged out in armour, too! Why, it makes me hot only to think of it! Not the style of thing I care for at all, I promise you!’

‘Ah, you misunderstand me! It wasn’t dragons I had in mind but your unswerving faithfulness to Godmama! You have been her sworn knight throughout the years!’

‘Baronet,’ interpolated Kit unsteadily.

‘I’ve so often thought how lonely you must have been,’ pursued Cressy, ignoring this frivolity. ‘In that great house of yours, quite alone, and – as it must have seemed to you – with nothing to look forward to!’

‘Very true! Except that one grows accustomed, you know, and I don’t live in it alone precisely.’

‘You have servants, of course, but what do they signify? So very little!’

Sir Bonamy, who employed an enormous staff which included three cooks wholly indispensable to his comfort, thought that they signified a great deal, but refrained from saying so.

‘But now how different it will be!’

‘I know it will,’ he agreed, with a deep sigh.

‘And, oh, how you will be envied!’ she said, hastily changing her note. ‘They will be ready to murder you, all Godmama’s disappointed suitors! I can’t but laugh when I picture to myself the chagrin of certain of their number when you walk off with her from under their noses!’

It was plain that this aspect had not previously occurred to him. He considered it, puffing out his cheeks a little, as he always did when anything pleased him. ‘Yes, by Jupiter!’ he said. ‘They will be ready to murder me! The loveliest, most sought-after woman in the ton, and she chose me! A triumph that, eh? Lord, I’d give a monkey to see Louth’s face when he reads the advertisement! He’ll be ready to murder me, if you like!’ A less agreeable thought occurred to him: he said gloomily: ‘Yes, and I know of someone else who’ll be fit to cut my liver out, and that’s young Denville! I was forgetting him. Kit, if this marriage was to cause a breach between him and your mother, she’d break her heart, and I’d give her up sooner than do that!’

‘Don’t worry, sir: it won’t!’ Kit replied. ‘I can’t promise that Evelyn will take very readily to the marriage, but never fear! he’ll come round, and under no circumstances would he become estranged from Mama. That you may depend on!’

‘I daresay you know best,’ said Sir Bonamy, accepting his fate. He rose ponderously to his feet. ‘Time I went up to change my dress!’

‘We don’t change this evening, sir: General Oakenshaw drove over an hour ago to pay his respects to my mother, and she has persuaded him to remain to dine here.’

‘You don’t mean it! Why, I thought that old spider-shanks had gone to roost years ago!’ exclaimed Sir Bonamy. ‘Well, well, what a day this has been! One surprise after another! I won’t put on my evening rig, but I must change my coat, and I don’t know but what I won’t take a little rest before dinner, just to pluck me up, you know!’

‘And perhaps a cordial?’ suggested Kit.

‘No, no, I don’t want a cordial! The thing is that I’ve had a lot of excitement today, which I ain’t accustomed to, and I feel a trifle fagged! A short nap will set me to rights again!’

‘As you wish, sir,’ said Kit, holding open the door for him, and bowing him out of the room.

Shutting it again, he turned to find that Cressy had collapsed into a chair, in fits of laughter. She uttered, between gusts: ‘Oh, Kit! Oh, Kit! I thought I should die! Poor Sir Bonamy!’

‘You and your knights!’ he said.

That sent her into a fresh paroxysm. ‘Baronets!’ she wailed. ‘Wretch that you are! That was nearly my undoing! Oh, don’t make me laugh any more! It positively hurts!’ She mopped her eyes. ‘But it will be a happy marriage, won’t it? When he has accustomed himself to the idea?’

‘I should think it might well be, if he can be brought up to the scratch. What I want to know, my love, is whether this was one of Mama’s nacky notions, or yours? Out with it, now!’

‘Kit

, how can you suppose that I would venture to suggest to Godmama that she should marry Sir Bonamy, or anyone else?’

‘I don’t. But I strongly suspect that it was you who put the idea into her head! Well?’