The Grand Sophy (16 page)

“It will be a delightful expedition,” said Miss Wraxton brightly. “I am almost tempted, dear Lady Ombersley, to beg a place in your carriage!”

Lady Ombersley was too well bred to betray consternation, but she said a little doubtfully, “Well, my dear, of course—if Sophy does not think that there might be rather too many of us for the Marquesa! I should not wish to put her out in any way.”

“Not at all!” Sophy replied instantly. “It is not in your power to put Sancia out, dearest Aunt Lizzie! She will not bestir herself in the least, but will leave everything to her major-domo. Her is a Frenchman, and will be delighted to make arrangements for even so small a party as ours. I have only to write Sancia a letter, beg a frank from my uncle, and the thing is done—if only she will rouse herself sufficiently to convey my message to Gaston.

“How interesting it will be to meet a real Spanish lady!” remarked Miss Wraxton.

“For all the world as if Sancia had been a giraffe!” as Sophy afterward said to Cecilia.

“I wish I had known you meant to accompany my mother!” Mr. Rivenhall said, when he presently escorted Miss Wraxton to her carriage. “I should have offered you a place in my curricle. I cannot cry off now, but it is a bore. I should not have said I would go had I not heard that Talgarth was to be of the party. God knows I don’t care a jot whom my cousin marries, but I suppose, in the circumstances, we owe it to my uncle not to encourage that connection!”

“I am afraid her visit has brought extra cares upon you, my dear Charles. Much must be forgiven to a girl who has never known a mother’s care, but I confess I had hoped that under your mama’s guidance she would have tried to conform to English standards of propriety.”

“Not she!” he said. “It’s my belief she delights in keeping us all upon tenterhooks! There is no guessing what she will be at next, while the terms she stands on with every rattle who ever wore a scarlet coat—not that I care for that! But to be encouraging Talgarth to dangle after her is the outside of enough. All very well to say she can look after herself. I daresay she can, but if she is seen too much in his company, she will be talked about by every scandalmongering busybody in town!”

Miss Wraxton, treasuring up these hasty words, was unwise enough to repeat the gist of them to Sophy not forty-eight hours later. During the hour of the fashionable Promenade, when walking in the Park with her maid, she came upon Sophy’s phaeton, drawn up to allow Sophy to exchange a few words with the reprehensible Sir Vincent. He had one hand negligently on the step of the phaeton, and she was leaning a little down to say something that seemed to afford them both amusement. She saw Miss Wraxton, and nodded smilingly to her, but looked rather surprised when Eugenia came toward the phaeton, and addressed her.

“How do you do? So this is the carriage I hear so much of! At all events, you have a fine pair of horses, I see. You drive them tandem! You are to be congratulated. I do not think I would trust myself to do so.”

“You are acquainted with Sir Vincent Talgarth, I believe,” Sophy said.

Sir Vincent received the coldest of bows and the merest hint of a smile.

“Do you know,” said Miss Wraxton, looking up at Sophy, “I really think I must ask you to take me up beside you for one turn! I am quite jealous of your prowess, I assure you!”

Sophy signed to John to alight, saying politely, “Pray come with me, Miss Wraxton. I shall naturally be put on my mettle. Sir Vincent, we meet on Friday, then. You will call for us in Berkeley Square!”

Miss Wraxton, assisted by John Potton, mounted with credible grace into the awkwardly high carriage and sat down beside Sophy, disposing her skirt neatly, and acknowledging Tina’s presence by uttering, “Dear little doggie!” a form of address which made the little greyhound shiver and press closer to her mistress. “I am so happy to have this opportunity of speaking with you, Miss Stanton-Lacy. I had come to think it impossible to find you when you should be alone! You are acquainted with so many people.”

“Yes, am I not fortunate?”

“Indeed, yes!” agreed Miss Wraxton, honey sweet. “Though sometimes, dear Miss Stanton-Lacy, when one has a multitude of friends, one is inclined not to be as careful as one should be, perhaps. I wonder if I might venture to put you a little on your guard? In Paris and Vienna I am sure you would be able to tell me how I should go on, but in London I must be more at home than you.”

“Oh, I should never be so impertinent as to tell you how to go on anywhere!” Sophy declared.

“Well, perhaps it would not be necessary,” acknowledged Miss Wraxton graciously. “My mama has always been a most careful parent, and very strict in her choice of governesses for her daughters. I have felt so much compassion for you, dear Miss Stanton-Lacy, situated as you are. You must so often have felt the want of a mother!”

“Not at all. Don’t waste your compassion on me, I beg! I never wanted a mother while I had Sir Horace.”

“Gentlemen,” said Miss Wraxton, “are not the same.”

“An unarguable statement. How do you like my bays?”

Miss Wraxton laid a hand on her knee. “Allow me to speak without reserve!” she begged.

“Short of overturning you I can hardly prevent you,” Sophy replied. “But you had much better not, you know! I am very unbiddable, and if I were to lose my temper I might do what I should afterward be sorry for.”

“But I must speak!” Miss Wraxton said earnestly. “I owe it to your cousin!”

“Indeed! How is this?”

“You will understand that he does not like to mention the matter to you himself. He feels a certain delicacy—”

“I thought you were talking of Charles!” interrupted Sophy. “Which cousin do you mean?”

“I am talking of Charles.”

“Nonsense! He has no delicate scruples.”

“Miss Stanton-Lacy, believe me, this air of levity is not becoming!” said Miss Wraxton, losing some of her sweetness. “I do not think you can be aware of what is expected of a woman of quality! Or—forgive me—how fatal it is to set up the backs of people and to give rise to such gossip as must be as painful to the Rivenhalls as I am persuaded it would be to you!”

“Now, what in heaven’s name comes next?” said Sophy, quite astonished. “You cannot be so Gothic as to suppose that because I drive a high-perch phaeton I give rise to gossip!”

“No, though one would have preferred to have seen you, in some vehicle less sporting. But the habits of easy intercourse you are on with so many military gentlemen—rattles in scarlet coats, as Charles divertingly phrases it—and in particular with that man I saw you conversing with a moment ago, make you appear a little fast, dear Miss Stanton-Lacy, which I know you would not wish! Sir Vincent’s company cannot give you consequence,” indeed, quite the reverse! A certain lady—of the first consideration—commented to me only today upon his attaching himself to you so particularly.”

“I expect she has an interest there herself,” observed Sophy. “He is a shocking flirt! And did my cousin Charles desire you to warn me against all these rattles?”

“He did not precisely desire me to do so,” answered Miss Wraxton scrupulously, “but he has spoken to me on this head, and I know what his sentiments are. You must know that Society will look indulgently upon mere pranks, such as driving off in Charles’s curricle, for Lady Ombersley’s protection must give you countenance.”

“How fortunate I am!” said Sophy. “But do you think you are wise to be seen in my company?”

“Now you are quizzing, Miss Stanton-Lacy!”

“No, I am only afraid that you may suffer for being seen in such a vehicle as this, and with so fast a female!”

“Hardly,” Miss Wraxton said gently. “Perhaps it may be thought a little odd in me, for I do not drive myself in London, but I think my character is sufficiently well established to make it possible for me to do, if I wished, what others might be imprudent to attempt.”

They were by this time within sight of the gate by Apsley House. “Now let me understand you!” begged Sophy. “If I were to do something outrageous while in your company, would your credit be good enough to carry me off?”

“Let us say my family’s credit, Miss Stanton-Lacy. I may venture to reply, without hesitation, yes.”

“Capital!” said Sophy briskly, and turned her horses toward the gate.

Miss Wraxton, losing some of her assurance, said sharply, “
tray
, what are you about?”

“I am going to do what I have been wanting to do ever I since I was told I must not, on any account!” replied Sophy. “It is with me a kind of Bluebeard’s chamber.” The phaeton swung through the gateway and turned sharply to the left, narrowly escaping collision with a ponderous lozenge coach.

Miss Wraxton uttered a stifled shriek and clutched the side of the phaeton. “Take care! Please pull up your horses at once! I do not wish to drive through the streets! Have you taken leave of your senses?”

“No, no, do not be afraid. I am quite sane. How glad I am that you chose to drive with me! Such an opportunity as this might never else have come in my way!”

“Miss Stanton-Lacy, I do not know what you mean, and again I must beg of you to pull up! I am not at all diverted by this prank, and I wish to, alight from your phaeton instantly!”

“What, and walk along Piccadilly unattended? You cannot mean it!”

“Stop!” commanded Miss Wraxton, in almost shrill accents. “On no account. Dear me, what a lot of traffic! Perhaps you had better not talk to me until I have weaved my way through all these carts and carriages.”

“For heaven’s sake, at least slacken your pace!” Miss Wraxton besought her, in the liveliest alarm.

“I will, when we come to the turning,” promised Sophy, passing between a waggon and a mail coach, with a matter of inches to spare. A moan from her companion caused her to add kindly, “There is no need to be in a fright. Sir Horace made me drive through a gateway until I could be trusted not even to scrape the varnish.”

They were now ascending the rise in Piccadilly. With a strong effort at self-control, Miss Wraxton demanded, “Tell me at once where you are taking me!”

“Down St. James’s Street,” replied Sophy coolly.

“What?” gasped Miss Wraxton, turning quite pale. “You will not do such a thing! No lady would be seen driving there! Amongst all the clubs, the object of every town saunterer! You cannot know what would be said of you! Stop this instant!”

“No, I want to see this Bow Window I hear so much of and all the dandies who sit there. How wretched that Mr. Brummel has been obliged to go abroad! Do you know, I never saw him in my life? Are you able to point out the various clubs to me? Shall we recognize White’s, or are there other houses with bow windows?”

“This is your notion of raillery, Miss Stanton-Lacy! You are not serious?”

“Yes, I am. Of course, I should not have dared to do it without you sitting beside, me to lend me credit, but you have assured me that your position is unassailable, and I see that I need have no scruple in gratifying my ambition. I daresay your consequence is great enough to make it quite a fashionable drive for ladies. We shall see!”

No argument that Miss Wraxton could advance, and she advanced many, had the power to move her. She drove on inexorably. Wild ideas of springing from the phaeton crossed Miss Wraxton’s mind, only to be rejected. It was too dangerous to be attempted. Had she been wearing a veil she might have pulled it over her face, and hoped to have escaped recognition, but her hat was a perfectly plain one and bore only a modest bow of ribbon. She had not even a parasol and was obliged to sit bolt upright, staring rigidly ahead of her the length of that disgraceful street. She did not utter a word until the horses swung round into Pall Mall, and then she said in a low voice, unsteady with rage and chagrin, “I will never forgive you! Never!”

“How uncharitable of you!” said Sophy lightly. “Shall I set you down now?”

“If you dare to abandon me in this locality—”

“Very well, I will drive you to Berkeley Square. I do not know whether you will find my cousin at home at this hour, but at all events you may complain of me to my aunt, which I am sure you must be longing to do.”

“Do not speak to me!” said Miss Wraxton throbbingly. Sophy laughed.

Outside Ombersley House she broke the silence. “Can you get down without assistance? Having cast off my groom, together with your maid, I must drive the phaeton round to the stables myself.”

Miss Wraxton, vouchsafing no answer, climbed down, and walked up the steps to the front door.

It was half an hour later before Dassett admitted Sophy into the house. She found Mr. Rivenhall at the very moment coming down the stairs, and said at once, “Ah, so you were at home! I am so glad!”

He was looking very stern, and replied in a level tone, “Will you come into the library for a few minutes?”

She accompanied him there and began to drag off her driving gloves with hands that were not quite steady. Her eyes were still sparkling, and a not unbecoming flush mantled her cheeks. “Cousin, what, in God’s name, possessed you?” demanded Mr. Rivenhall.

“Oh, has not Miss Wraxton told you? I have realized an ambition!”

“You must be mad! Don’t you know how improper it was of you to do such a thing?”

“Yes, indeed I knew, and should never have dared to do it without the protection of Miss Wraxton’s presence! Do not look so dismayed! She assured me that even though I did something outrageous in her company her credit was good enough to carry me off! Surely you cannot doubt it!”