Black Sheep Read online

  'It's horrid without you!' Fanny said, giving her hands a squeeze. 'You can't think!'

  Abby bent to drop a kiss on her cheek, but said with mock sympathy: 'My poor darling! So strict and unkind as Aunt Selina has been! I feared it would be so.'

  'That's what I've missed so much!' Fanny said, with a ripple of mirth. 'I am most sincerely attached to Aunt Selina, but – but she is not a great jokesmith, is she? And not a bit corky!'

  'I shouldn't think so,' responded Abby cautiously. 'Not that I know what corky means, but it sounds very unlike Selina – and, I may add, sadly unlike the language to be expected of a girl of genteel upbringing!'

  That made Fanny's eyes dance. 'Yes – slang! It means – oh, bright, and lively! Like you!'

  'Does it indeed? I collect you mean to pay me a handsome compliment, but if ever you dare to attach such an epithet to me again, Fanny, I shall – I shall – well, I don't yet know what I shall do, but you may depend upon it that it will be something terrible! Corky! Good God!'

  'I won't,' Fanny promised. 'Now, do, do be serious, beloved! I have so much to tell you. Something of – of the first importance.'

  Abby knew a craven impulse to fob her off, but subdued it, saying in what she hoped was not a hollow voice: 'No, have you? Then I will engage to be perfectly serious. What is it?'

  Fanny directed a searching look at her. 'Didn't Aunt Selina – or Uncle James, perhaps – tell you about – about Mr Calverleigh?'

  'About Mr – ? Oh! Is he the London smart you've slain with one dart from your eyes? To be sure they did, and very diverting I thought them! That is to say,' she corrected herself, in a ludicrously severe tone, 'that of course they are very right in thinking you to be far too young to be setting up a flirt! Most forward of you, my love – quite improper!'

  She won no answering gleam. 'It isn't like that,' Fanny said. 'From the very first moment that we met –' She paused, and drew a long breath. 'We loved one another!' she blurted out.

  Abby had not expected such an open avowal, and could think of nothing to say but that it sounded like a fairy-tale, which was not at all what she ought to have said, as she realised an instant later.

  Raising glowing eyes to her face, Fanny said simply: 'Yes, it is just like that! Oh, I knew you would understand, dearest! Even though you haven't yet met him! And when you do meet him – oh, you will dote on him! I only wish you may not cut me out!'

  Abby accorded this sally the tribute of a smile, but recommended her ecstatic niece not to be a pea-goose.

  'Oh, I was only funning!' Fanny assured her. 'The thing is that he isn't a silly boy, like Jack Weaverham, or Charlie Ruscombe, or – or Peter Trevisian, but a man of the world, and much older than I am, which makes it so particularly gratifying – no, I don't mean that! – so wonderful that in spite of having been on the town, as they say, for years and years he never met anyone with whom he wished to form a lasting connection until he came to Bath, and met me!' Overcome by this reflection, she buried her face in Abby's lap, saying, in muffled accents: 'And he must have met much prettier girls than I am – don't you think?'

  Miss Wendover, aware that her besetting sin was a tendency to give utterance to the first thought which sprang to her mind, swallowed an impulse to retort: 'But few so well-endowed!' and replied instead: 'Well, as I'm not acquainted with any of the latest beauties I can't say! But to have made a London beau your first victim is certainly a triumph. Of course I know I shouldn't say that to you – your Aunt Cornelia would call it administering to your vanity! – so pray don't expose me to her censure by growing puffed-up, my darling!'

  Fanny looked up. 'Ah, you don't understand! Abby, this is a – a lasting attachment! You must believe that! Has my uncle told you that he is a desperate flirt? Such a sad reputation as he has! He told me so himself ! But I don't care a rush, because, although he has frequently fancied himself to be in love, he never wished to marry anyone until he met me ! And if my uncle said that he is a trifle rackety he might have spared his breath, for Stacy told me that too. He said – oh, Abby, he said he wasn't fit to touch my hand, and no one could blame my uncle

  if he refused to give his consent to our marriage!'

  She once more hid her face in Abby's lap, raising it again to add: 'So you see – !'

  Abby thought that she did, but she only said, stroking the golden head on her knee: 'But what is there in all this to cast you into agitation? Anyone would suppose that your uncle had already refused his consent, and had threatened you both with dire penalties into the bargain!'

  'Oh!' breathed Fanny, looking eagerly up at her. 'Do you mean that you think he won't refuse it?'

  'Oh, no!' said Abby. 'I am very sure that he will! And although I have no very high opinion of his judgment I give him credit for not being such a niddicock as to accept the first offer made to him for your hand! A pretty guardian he would be if he allowed you to become riveted before your first season! Yes, I know that sets up all your bristles, my darling, and makes you ready to pull caps with me, but I beg you won't! Your uncle may dream of a splendid alliance for you, but you know that I don't! I only dream of a happy one.'

  'I know – oh, I know!' Fanny declared. 'And so you will support me! Best of my aunts, say that you will!'

  'Why, yes, if you can convince me that your first love will also be your last love!'

  'But I have told you!' Fanny said, sitting back on her heels, and staring at her in rising indignation. 'I could never love anyone as I love Stacy! Good God, how can you – you ! – talk like that to me? I know – my aunt told me! – how my grandfather repulsed the man you loved! And you've never loved another, and – and your life was ruined!'

  'Well, I thought so at the time,' Abby admitted. A smile quivered at the corners of her mouth. 'I must own, however, that whenever that first suitor of mine is recalled to my mind I can only be thankful that your grandfather did repulse him! You know, Fanny, the melancholy truth is that one's first love very rarely bears the least resemblance to one's last, and most enduring love! He is the man one marries, and with whom one lives happily ever after!'

  'But you have not married!' muttered Fanny rebelliously.

  'Very true, but not because I carried a broken heart in my bosom! I have fallen in and out of love a dozen times, I daresay. And as for your Aunt Mary – ! She, you know, was always accounted the Beauty of the family, and you might have reckoned her suitors by the score! The first of them was as unlike your Uncle George as any man could be.'

  'I thought that my grandfather had arranged that marriage?' interpolated Fanny.

  'Oh, no!' replied Abby. 'He certainly approved of it, but George was only one of three eligible suitors! He was neither the most handsome nor the most dashing of them, and he bore not the smallest resemblance to any of your aunt's first loves, but theirs is a very happy marriage, I promise you.'

  'Yes, but I am not like my aunt,' returned Fanny. 'I daresay she would have been as happy with any other amiable man, because she has a happy disposition, besides being very – very conformable!' She twinkled naughtily up at Abby. 'Which I am not! My aunt is like a – oh, a deliciously soft cushion, which may be pushed and pummelled into any shape you choose! – but I – I know what I want, and have a great deal of resolution into the bargain!'

  'More like a bolster, in fact,' agreed Abby, with an affability she was far from feeling.

  Fanny laughed. 'Yes, if you like – worst of my aunts! In any event, I mean to marry Stacy Calverleigh, whatever my uncle may say or do!'

  Well aware that few things were more invigorating to high spirited adolescents than opposition, Abby replied instantly: 'Oh, certainly! But your father, you know, was an excellent dragsman, and he was used to say that you should always get over heavy ground as light as possible. I am strongly of the opinion that you – and Mr Calverleigh – should refrain from declaring your intentions to your uncle until you can also present him with proof of the durability of your attachment.'

  'He wouldn't care: you