Grand Sophy Read online

  ‘When?’ demanded Sir Horace. ‘How comes it about that I never heard a word of this before today?’

  ‘It was rather more than two years ago, and –’

  ‘That accounts for it, then: I was devilish busy, dealing with Angoulême, and all that set. Must have happened at the time of Toulouse, I dare swear. But when I saw you last year you never spoke a word, Lizzie!’

  She was stung by the injustice to this, and said indignantly: ‘I am sure I don’t know how I should have been thinking of such paltry things, with that Monster at large, and the Champs de Mars, and the banks suspending payment, and heaven knows what beside! And you coming over from Brussels without a word of warning, and sitting with me a bare twenty minutes! My head was in a whirl, and if I answered you to the point it is more than I would have bargained for!’

  Sir Horace, disregarding this irrelevancy, said, with what for him was strong feeling: ‘Outrageous! I don’t say Ombersley’s not a shocking loose-screw, because there’s no sense in wrapping plain facts up in clean linen, but to be cutting a man out of one’s will and setting up his son to lord it over him – which I’ll be bound he does!’

  ‘No, no!’ expostulated Lady Ombersley feebly. ‘Charles is fully sensible of what is due to his father! It is not that he is ever lacking in respect, I do assure you! Only poor Ombersley cannot but feel it a little, now that Charles has taken everything into his own hands.’

  ‘A pretty state of affairs!’

  ‘Yes, but one comfort is that it is not generally known. And I cannot deny that in some ways it is by far more pleasant. You would scarcely credit it, Horace, but I do believe there is not an unpaid bill in the house!’ A moment’s reflection caused her to modify this statement. ‘At least, I cannot answer for Ombersley, but all those dreadful household accounts, which Eckington – you remember our good Eckington, Ombersley’s agent? – used to pull such a face over; and the fees at Eton and Oxford – everything, my dear brother, Charles takes care of !’

  ‘You aren’t going to tell me Charles is fool enough to fritter away old Matt Rivenhall’s fortune paying all the expenses of this barrack of a house!’ exclaimed Sir Horace.

  ‘No. Oh, no! I have not the least head for business, so it is of no use to ask me to explain it to you, but I believe that Charles persuaded his father to – to allow him to administer the estate.’

  ‘Blackmailed him into it, more like!’ said Sir Horace grimly. ‘Rare times we live in! Mind, I see the boy’s point, Lizzie, but, by God, I’m sorry for you!’

  ‘Oh, pray believe it’s no such thing!’ cried Lady Ombersley, distressed. ‘I did not wish you to think – to give you cause to suppose that Charles is ever disagreeable, for indeed he is not, except when he is put out of temper, and one must own that he has a great deal to try his patience! Which is why I can’t but feel, dear Horace, that if he does not like me to take charge of Sophia for you, I ought not to tease him!’

  ‘Fiddlesticks!’ said Sir Horace. ‘And why shouldn’t he like it?’

  ‘We – we decided not to give any parties this season, beyond what must be thought necessary. It is a most unfortunate circumstance that Charles’s wedding has had to be postponed, on account of a bereavement Miss Wraxton has suffered. One of Lady Brinklow’s sisters, and they will not be out of black gloves for six months. You must know that the Brinklows are very particular in all matters of correct conduct. Eugenia goes only to very quiet parties, and – and naturally one must expect Charles to partake of her sentiments!’

  ‘Lord, Elizabeth, a man don’t have to wear black gloves for the aunt of a female he ain’t even married to!’

  ‘Of course not, but Charles seemed to feel – and then there is Charlbury!’

  ‘What the devil ails him!’

  ‘Mumps,’ replied Lady Ombersley tragically.

  ‘He?’ Sir Horace burst out laughing. ‘Well, what a fellow he must be to have mumps when he should be getting married to Cecilia!’

  ‘Really, Horace, I must say that I think that most unjust of you, for how could he help it? It is so mortifying for him! And, what is more, excessively unfortunate, because I don’t doubt that had he been able to attach Cecilia – which I am sure he must have done, for nothing could be more amiable than his disposition, while his manners and address are just what they ought to be! But girls are so foolish, and take romantical notions into their heads, besides all kinds of encroaching fancies – however, I am happy to think that Cecilia is not one of those dreadful modern misses, and of course she will be guided by her parents! But no one can deny that nothing could be more ill-timed than Charlbury’s mumps!’

  Sir Horace, once more opening his snuff-box, regarded her with an amused and a sapient eye. ‘And what is Miss Cecilia’s particular encroaching fancy?’ he enquired.

  Lady Ombersley knew that her eldest son would have counselled her to preserve a discreet silence; but the impulse to unburden herself to her brother was too strong to be denied. She said: ‘Well, you will not repeat it, I know, Horace, but the fact is that the silly child thinks she is in love with Augustus Fawnhope!’

  ‘One of Lutterworth’s boys?’ asked Sir Horace. ‘I don’t think much of that for a match, I must say!’

  ‘Good heavens, don’t mention such a thing! The youngest son, too, with not the least expectation in the world! But he is a poet.’

  ‘Very dangerous,’ agreed Sir Horace. ‘Don’t think I ever saw the boy: what’s he like?’

  ‘Quite beautiful!’ said Lady Ombersley, in despairing accents.

  ‘What, in the style of Lord Byron? That fellow has a great deal to answer for!’

  ‘No-no. I mean, he is as fair as Cecilia is herself, and he doesn’t limp, and though his poems are very pretty, bound up in white vellum, they don’t seem to take very well. I mean, not at all like Lord Byron’s. It seems sadly unjust, for I believe it cost a great deal of money to have them printed, and he had to bear the whole – or, rather, Lady Lutterworth did, according to what I have heard.’

  ‘Now I come to think of it,’ said Sir Horace, ‘I do know the boy. He was with Stuart, in Brussels last year. If you take my advice, you’ll marry Cecilia off to Charlbury as quickly as you can!’

  ‘Well, and so I would, if only – that is to say, of course I would not, if I thought she held him in aversion! And you must see, Horace, that it is quite out of my power to do anything of the sort when he is in bed with the mumps!’

  Sir Horace shook his head. ‘She will marry the poet.’

  ‘Do not say so! But Charles thinks that I should do wisely not to take her where she is bound to meet the young man, which is another reason why we are living in a quiet style for the present. It is of all things the most awkward! Indeed, sometimes I feel that it would be much easier if the wretched creature were quite ineligible – a fortune-hunter, or a merchant’s son, or something of that nature! One could then forbid him the house, and forbid Cecilia to stand up with him at balls, only it would not be in the least necessary for we should never meet him in society. But naturally one meets the Fawnhopes everywhere! Nothing could be more provoking! And although I am sure Charles’s manner towards him is most repellent, even he acknowledges the impropriety of being so repulsive to him as to offend his family. Almeria Lutterworth is one of my oldest friends!’

  Sir Horace, who was already bored with the subject, yawned, and said lazily: ‘I daresay there is no occasion for you to be on the fidgets. The Fawnhopes are all as poor as Church mice, and very likely Lady Lutterworth desires the match as little as you do.’

  ‘Nothing of the sort!’ she replied, quite crossly. ‘She is foolish beyond permission, Horace! Whatever Augustus wants he must have! She has given me the most unmistakable hints, so that I scarcely knew where to look, much less what to say, except that Lord Charlbury had requested our leave to address Cecilia, and I believed her to be – well, not indifferent to him! It never entered my head that Augustus was so lost to all sense of propriety as to apply to Cecilia witho