A Civil Contract Read online

  ‘Do you like it?’ Jenny asked anxiously. ‘I haven’t very good taste myself – not that I had anything to do with furnishing the house: Papa did it, while we were at Rushleigh, to – to surprise us. Only I’m afraid he made it all rather too – too grand!’

  ‘For my part,’ said Lydia, ‘I shouldn’t care a rush for that. How truly splendid to have a father who gives you such sumptuous surprises!’ She hesitated, and then said shyly: ‘He won’t change Fontley, will he? Not too much?’

  ‘No, no, I promise you it shan’t be changed at all!’ Jenny replied, her colour rushing up.

  ‘I don’t mean that this house isn’t very elegant!’ said Lydia hastily. ‘Only that it wouldn’t suit Fontley so well!’

  It was the opinion of the Dowager, when she descended to the drawing-room, that the style favoured by Mr Chawleigh would suit no house; and at the first opportunity she expressed this opinion to Adam with great freedom. He found himself defending even the green stripes. He said doggedly that stripes were of the first stare. ‘Such a very vulgar shade!’ said the Dowager, with a shudder. ‘Far too much bullion on the curtains too! Alas, when I remember how this room once appeared I can’t but grieve at such a transformation!’

  He was goaded into retorting: ‘It could hardly appear the same, ma’am, once you had removed from it everything but the carpet and three of the pictures!’

  This unfilial rejoinder wounded her so deeply that not only were the ghosts of Stephen and Maria evoked, but she said, when Jenny told her of the small party arranged for her pleasure, that no doubt dear Jenny had forgotten that she was in deep mourning.

  ‘As though any of us could forget it, when she is positively dripping black crape!’ said Lydia. ‘But don’t be in a worry, Jenny! She won’t retire to her room, I promise you!’

  Jenny was obliged to be satisfied with this assurance, but her anxiety was not really allayed until the Dowager came downstairs just before eight o’clock arrayed in black silk, and with Adam’s mantilla pinned over a Spanish comb (also his gift) set in her fair locks.

  ‘Oh, how pretty you look!’ Jenny exclaimed involuntarily. ‘I beg your pardon! I couldn’t resist!’

  ‘Dearest child!’ murmured the Dowager indulgently.

  ‘I take great credit to myself for knowing that nothing would become you better than a mantilla,’ said Adam. ‘Perfect, Mama!’

  ‘Foolish boy!’ she said, rapidly mellowing. ‘I thought it right to make the effort, since you have invited these people particularly to meet me. I daresay, if you were to mention that I have a fatiguing journey before me tomorrow, they will not stay very late.’

  This did not sound propitious, but it was misleading. From the moment that Rockhill, after holding her hand while he gazed admiringly at her countenance, carried it to his lips with old-fashioned courtesy, the Dowager’s enjoyment of the party was assured.

  The arrival of the Oversleys coincided with that of Brough; and in the confusion of greetings no one noticed that Adam and Julia stood handlocked for longer than was customary, or heard Julia say: ‘This was not of my contrivance!’

  ‘Nor of mine,’ he returned, in a low voice. ‘You know that I cannot, must not say to you –’ He checked himself, and pressed her hand before releasing it. ‘Only tell me that you are better! The anguish of that moment, at my aunt’s, will haunt me all my life, I think.’

  ‘Oh, don’t let it do so! I shan’t mortify you again, I promise you! We shall grow accustomed, they tell me – forget that there was ever anything but friendship between us. I must wish you happy. Can you be?’ A tiny headshake answered her. She smiled faintly. ‘No, your heart is not fickle. I’ll wish you content only.’

  She turned from him as she spoke to meet Lydia, who came up to her, saying: ‘I am so glad to see you, Julia! What an age it has been! The things I have to tell you!’

  Adam moved away to mingle with his other guests, only a slight rigidity of countenance betraying that he was labouring under stress. Lydia, who had a schoolgirl’s admiration of Julia, was chattering away to her, and Julia seemed to be interested and amused. Adam heard her silvery laugh, and was thankful; for joined with the pain of being so close to her was the unacknowledged dread that she might allow her sensibility to overcome her upbringing, and precipitate them all into embarrassment. He wondered if Jenny, placidly talking to Lord Oversley, had any conception of the ordeal to which she had exposed both himself and Julia. She appeared unconscious; and when she chanced to meet his eyes there was no suspicion in hers, but only a little, friendly smile. She seemed to be enjoying herself; and although this set her poles apart from him it relieved another of his anxieties: at his aunt’s assembly, and at Lady Bridgewater’s, her shyness had made her an awkward guest, but in her own house it was otherwise. There would be no need for him to keep a watchful eye on her, ready to help her over conversational hurdles, or to nudge her into a hostess’s duties: she was quiet, but she was quite assured, because she had been mistress of her father’s house for years, and was accustomed to entertaining his friends.

  The dinner which was presently served was excellent; and since there were several topics of immediate public interest to be discussed conversation did not flag. Chief amongst these was the betrothal of the Princess Charlotte to the Prince of Orange, for so persistent were the rumours that the Princess had cried off that it was naturally a subject of paramount interest. Various reasons for the rupture were suggested; but Rockhill, who, being one of the Carlton House set, was probably better informed than anyone else present, said that he believed that the rift had arisen from the question of domicile: the Prince expected his bride to live in the Low Countries; the Princess, standing as she did in direct succession to the English throne, was determined to remain in her own country. This resolution, after some discussion, was approved; but it remained for Jenny to say that it seemed strange that the Regent should be willing to send his only child packing to foreign parts.

  ‘Yes, indeed!’ agreed Lady Oversley. ‘It really makes one wonder – But I believe she is excessively like him!’ She then realized that her inconsequent tongue had betrayed her, and exclaimed, with even more inconsequence: ‘Which reminds me, Adam, that you must take your seat! Oversley was saying only the other day – weren’t you, my love? – that he must put you in mind of it.’

  ‘Yes, I must, I suppose,’ said Adam. ‘My uncle was speaking to me about it the other evening. He says he will go with me, and tell me what I must do when I get there – for I’m ashamed to say I don’t know!’ He saw that Jenny was at a loss, and he smiled at her, saying: ‘In the House: I’ve a seat there, and must take an oath, or some such thing. I’m not obliged to make a speech, am I, sir?’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Oversley reassured him. ‘To be sure, Nassington is the man to sponsor you, except that –’

  ‘But he is not the man!’ protested Brough. ‘Have my father, Lynton!’

  The Dowager gave this her support. She distinctly recalled having heard the late Viscount deplore Lord Nassington’s Toryism, and was consequently sure that he would be much disturbed if he knew that his son was to take his seat under the aegis of a Government supporter. She then recounted a slightly muddled anecdote, told her by her father, about a party given by Mrs Crewe at the time of the great Westminster Election, at which the guests had worn blue and buff favours, which had something to do with General Washington. Or was it Mr Fox? Well, at all events, the toast had been True Blue.

  ‘True Blue and Mrs Crewe, ma’am,’ corrected Brough, well-versed in the annals of Whiggery. ‘Often heard m’father tell that tale. The Prince proposed it, and she whipped back with True Blue and all of you! Took very well.’

  This naturally brought to mind the Prince’s sad change of front, now that he had become Regent; and the discussion became extremely animated. Adam took no part in it, but there was a decided twinkle in his eye; and when Brough said: ‘Go with m’father, and take care you sit down on the Opposition bench!’ he replied in a soft, apologe