False Colours Read online

  Watching him, Cressy said gently: ‘Vexed, sir?’

  His eyes, which had been looking frowningly ahead, travelled to her face, and smiled again. ‘No, far from it!’

  ‘In a little worry, then?’

  ‘A little,’ he acknowledged. ‘For reasons which I can’t, at present, explain to you. Bear with me!’

  ‘Why, of course!’ She strolled on beside him for a few paces. ‘Did you wish to say something of a particular nature when you asked me to come into the garden?’

  ‘No – that is, I have much to say to you of a very particular nature, but not yet!’ He broke off, as the evils of his situation came home to him more forcibly than ever before. He felt himself to be at a stand, for, although every impulse urged him to disclose the truth to Cressy, to do so under the existing circumstances, and while he was uncertain of her mind, would be to run the risk of flooring not only himself but Evelyn as well.

  That she was inclined, for some inscrutable reason, to prefer him to his twin, he knew; but he was no self-flatterer: he thought Evelyn his superior in all the qualities that might be supposed to captivate a lady; and he knew that in position and fortune Evelyn wholly eclipsed him. Cressy’s affections were not engaged – that had been made plain to him at the outset, when he had consented to impersonate his twin for one, vital evening. Under no other circumstance would he have lent himself to such a hoax, but this now seemed to make the situation worse rather than better. Cressy, entering into a marriage of convenience, had shown herself willing to accept an offer which the ton would certainly think splendid. In Kit’s view, that was a sensible thing to do: one could not have everything in an imperfect world, so if one was denied the best thing of all it would be foolish not to accept an offer that carried with it the promise of ease and social distinction. Kit’s own affections might be very thoroughly engaged, but it seemed incredible to him that Cressy, apparently impervious to Evelyn’s charm, had fallen in love with him. She certainly liked him, but it would take more than mere liking to overcome the revulsion she must surely feel if he told her how outrageously she had been deceived. It did not so much as cross his mind that she need never be told: he was going to tell her the whole truth just as soon as he could do it, with Evelyn’s knowledge, and when Cressy was no longer in the intolerable position of being a guest at Ravenhurst. The hoax, at no time acceptable to him, had begun to assume the colour of an unforgivable piece of chicanery. He would not have thought it surprising if Cressy, learning the truth, shook the dust of Ravenhurst from her feet with no more delay than would serve to put her grandmother in possession of the facts. Setting aside his own prospects, he thought there was scarcely a worse turn he could serve Evelyn. Such a break-up to the party would inevitably set tongues wagging, and wits to work; and though the Stavelys would be unlikely to repeat the story there was no dependence to be placed on the reticence of the servants. If only one amongst the score at Ravenhurst guessed the truth, the scandal, probably garbled out of recognition, would spread with the rapidity of a forest-fire. Better by far would it have been to have left Evelyn to make what excuses he could for his defection than to have set out to rescue him, and then to draw back from a task which proved to be harder and more distasteful than had been foreseen, leaving him in very much more serious straits. There was no intention of furthering his pretensions to Cressy’s hand in Kit’s head: loyalty to his twin might be strong, but it stopped short of helping Evelyn to marry, for expedience’s sake, the girl he himself loved. Evelyn would never expect that of him; but Evelyn would expect – only that was the wrong word to use for what each of them knew to be a certainty – that in all other predicaments his twin would stand buff.

  Cressy’s voice intruded upon these reflections, telling him that the arrival that morning of the post with the previous day’s London papers had ruffled the temper of one of his guests. She said this very gravely, but he was not deceived, and replied promptly: ‘You terrify me! Tell me the worst!’

  Her mouth quivered. ‘It is very bad, I warn you! Your uncle has seen that the Gazette and the Morning Post have received the information that your mama has left London for Ravenhurst Park, and he is very much put out.’

  He knew that Lady Denville had sent this notice to the two journals Evelyn was most likely to read; but what concern it was of Cosmo’s he had no idea. Cressy, meeting the surprised question in his eyes with a decided twinkle in her own, said reproachfully: ‘One would have supposed that dear Godmama would have thought it proper to have mentioned that she was entertaining visitors to Ravenhurst, amongst whom –’

  ‘– are the Hon. Cosmo and Mrs Cliffe, and Ambrose Cliffe, all of whom their host wishes otherwhere!’

  ‘I don’t think that was precisely how he feels the notice should have been phrased,’ she said, in a considering tone.

  He laughed. ‘I’m very sure it’s not! Feels he has been slighted does he? What the deuce does it matter to him? You’d think he must be some trumped up April-squire, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘I daresay it may come of his being a younger son.’

  ‘No, that it does not!’ he exclaimed, revolted.

  She glanced speculatively at him. ‘A younger son jealous of his elder brother’s position, and one who has made no mark in the world,’ she amended.

  He had by this time recollected himself, and merely said: ‘No, it comes from having a maggoty disposition and a vast quantity of self-importance.’

  She told him that he was too severe, and passed easily to an indifferent subject. They continued chatting companionably on a variety of topics until Cressy, hearing the stable-clock strike the hour, remembered her promise to her hostess, and was conscience-smitten by the realization that she must have kept her waiting for at least twenty minutes. This, she exclaimed, was the height of bad manners; and despite all Kit’s amused assurances that his mother was more likely to have forgotten that she had planned to send out her invitation cards that morning than to complain of her young guest’s want of conduct, she insisted on hastening back to the house. Kit went with her, offering her handsome odds against the chance that his mother would be found, as expected, in her own drawing-room. But she was found there, though with no thought of directing invitations in her head. She was standing in front of the gilded mirror hanging above the fireplace, surveying, with every sign of disapprobation, her own delightful reflection. A litter of crumpled wrapping-paper on the floor, an open box on the table, with a necklace composed of fine topazes set in filigree lying beside it, indicated that she had received a valuable package from London; sent, possibly, and at a moderate charge, through the medium of the Newhaven Mailcoach, and deposited, with the post, at the receiving office in Nutley; and more probably, as Kit knew, by a special messenger, at large cost.

  It was difficult to perceive why Lady Denville was dissatisfied with her appearance, for she was attired in an underdress of deep gold, which matched her hair, veiled by a tunic of pale muslin, and the effect was at once dashing, and extremely becoming, but she speedily explained the matter. ‘Was there anything ever more provoking?’ she demanded. ‘I purchased these horrid beads, because it struck me that they were just the thing to wear with this dress, and I even had them restrung to the exact length I required, and now I don’t like them at all! In fact, I think them hideous!’

  ‘Oh, no, no!’ exclaimed Cressy. ‘The most beautiful clear amber! How can you call them hideous, ma’am? You look charmingly!’

  ‘No, Cressy, I do not look charmingly!’ said her ladyship firmly. ‘I don’t know how it is, but no matter how dear they may be, there is something about beads which makes one look shabby-genteel. If I were to wear these, even Emma would think I bought made-up clothes in Cranbourne Alley!’

  This seemed an unlikely contingency, but neither Kit nor Cressy ventured to say so. Kit, picking up the topaz necklace, asked, with a sinking heart, if she had bought it at the same time.