The Grand Sophy Read online

  ‘Yes, because he has gone out to kill chickens,’ replied Sophy. ‘Cecy, help me to collect the ducklings, and put them back into the box! If we were to place your muff on top of them they will very likely believe it to be their mother, and settle down!’

  Cecilia having no fault to find with this scheme, it was at once put into execution. Miss Wraxton, who had coaxed Lord Bromford into a deep chair by the fire, said: ‘This levity will not serve, Miss Stanton-Lacy! Even you will allow that your conduct demands some explanation! Are you aware of the terrible consequences which must have followed on this – this escapade, had your cousin and I not come to rescue you from the disgrace your appear to regard so lightly!’

  Lord Bromford sneezed.

  ‘Oh, hush, Eugenia!’ begged Cecilia. ‘How can you talk so? All’s well that ends well!’

  ‘You must be lost to every scruple of female delicacy, Cecilia, if you can think it well for your cousin to show such a brazen face, when she has lost both character and reputation!’

  The door at the back of the hall opened to admit the Marquesa, a sacking-apron tied round her waist, and a large ladle in her hand. ‘Eggs I must instantly have!’ she announced. ‘And Lope de Vega I will not have, though in general a fine poet, but not in the kitchen! Someone must go to the chicken-house, and tell Vincent to bring me eggs. Who are these people?’

  It might have been supposed that the appearance on the scene of the Marquesa would have filled Miss Wraxton’s Christian soul with relief, but no such emotion was visible in her countenance, which, on the contrary, froze into an expression of such chagrin as to be almost ludicrous. She could find not a word to say, and was unable to command herself enough even to shake hands with the Marquesa.

  Lord Bromford, always punctilious, rose from his chair and bowed. Sophy presented him, and he begged pardon for having contracted what he feared would prove to be a dangerous cold. The Marquesa held him off with the ladle, saying: ‘If you have a cold, do not approach me! Now I see that it is Miss Rivenhall, whose beauty is entirely English; and that other one, also in the English estilo, but less beautiful. I do not think two chickens will be enough, so that man with the cold must eat the pig’s cheek. But eggs I must have!’

  Having delivered herself of this ultimatum, she withdrew, paying not the smallest heed to Lord Bromford’s agitated protest that all forms of pork were poison to him, and that a bowl of thin gruel was all that he felt himself able to swallow. He seemed to feel that Miss Wraxton was the only person amongst those present who was likely to sympathize with him, for he looked piteously at her. She responded at once, assuring him that he should not be asked to eat the pig’s cheek. ‘If it were possible to remove you from this draughty hall!’ she said, casting an angry glance at Sophy. ‘Had I known that I was coming to an establishment which appears to be something between a fowl-yard and Bedlam, I would never have set forth from town!’

  ‘Well, I must say I wish you had known it, then,’ said Sophy candidly. ‘We could have been comfortable enough, if only you and Lord Bromford had minded your own business, and now I suppose we must make gruel, and mustard foot-baths!’

  ‘A mustard foot-bath,’ said Lord Bromford eagerly, ‘would be the very thing! I do not say that it will entirely arrest the chill: we must not raise our hopes too high! but if we can prevent its descending upon the lungs it will be a great thing! Thank you! I am very much obliged to you!’

  ‘Good gracious, you absurd creature, I did not mean it!’ Sophy cried, breaking into laughter.

  ‘No!’ said Miss Wraxton. ‘We may readily believe you have not a grain of womanly compassion, Miss Stanton-Lacy! Do not be uneasy, Lord Bromford! If any efforts of mine can save you from illness they shall not be spared!’

  He pressed her hand in a speaking way, and allowed her to press him gently down again into his chair.

  ‘Meanwhile,’ said Charlbury, ‘let us not forget that eggs the Marquesa must have! I had better try to find Talgarth and the hen-house.’

  Sophy, who was looking thoughtful, said slowly: ‘Yes. And I think – Charlbury, bring a candle into the breakfast-parlour, and let us see if it is warm enough yet for Lord Bromford to sit in!’

  He went with her into this apartment, and had no sooner passed the doorway than she clasped his wrist, and said in an urgent undervoice: ‘Never mind the eggs! Go to the stables, and direct the Ombersley servants to pole up the horses again! You may change them at the inn in the village, or, if not there, at Epsom! Take Cecilia back to London! Only think how embarrassing for her to be obliged to meet Augustus now! She would dislike it excessively! Besides, it is quite ridiculous for so many people to be crowded into the house, and not at all what I bargained for!’

  He grimaced, but said: ‘If I do it, will you go with us?’

  ‘What, to sit bodkin between you? No, I thank you!’

  ‘But I cannot leave you here!’

  ‘Nonsense! It would not suit me at all to be going to London yet!’

  He set the candlestick down, and took her hands in his, and held them firmly. ‘Sophy, I owe you a debt of gratitude: thank you, my dear! You may command me in anything: shall I remove Miss Wraxton?’

  ‘No, for I have had a capital notion about her. She shall stay to nurse Bromford, and very likely they will make a match of it!’

  His shoulders shook. ‘Oh, Sophy, Sophy!’

  ‘No, do not laugh! I do feel I ought to make some provision for her, poor girl! I cannot permit her to marry Charles, and make them all unhappy at Ombersley House, but I am persuaded she and Bromford would deal extremely. Do not make me any more pretty speeches, but go down to the stables at once! I’ll tell Cecy!’

  She then thrust him back into the hall, and, while he let himself out of the house, went back to the group about the fire, and said: ‘It is tolerably cosy in the parlour, and if you choose to sit there for a little while, Lord Bromford, one of the bed-chambers shall be prepared for you, and I will send Clavering to pull off your boots. Do you take him in, Miss Wraxton, and see him comfortably bestowed!’

  ‘I trust the chimney may not smoke as badly as this one!’ said Miss Wraxton acidly. ‘Nothing could be worse! Lord Bromford has coughed twice already!’

  ‘How shocking! You should take him away at once.’

  His lordship, who was sitting in a miserable huddle, shivering and sneezing, thanked her in a feeble voice, and rose from his chair with Miss Wraxton’s kindly help. Hardly had they gone into the parlour, than Mr Fawnhope came into the hall, saying severely: ‘The drawing of hens is revolting! No one should be called upon to witness such an operation! The Marquesa must have eggs.’

  Cecilia, who had given a violent start, and perceptibly changed colour, exclaimed: ‘Augustus!’

  ‘Cecilia!’ said Mr Fawnhope, staring at her in astonishment. ‘You were not here before, were you?’

  ‘No,’ she said, blushing furiously. ‘Oh, no! I – I came with Miss Wraxton!’

  ‘Oh, was that how it was?’ he said, rather relieved. ‘I did not think I had seen you.’

  She said resolutely, but in some little agitation: ‘Augustus, I will not trifle with you! I must tell you I find I have made a great mistake. I cannot marry you!’

  ‘Noble, noble girl!’ Mr Fawnhope said, much moved. ‘I honour you for this frankness, and must ever deem myself fortunate to have been permitted to adore you. The experience has purified and strengthened me: you have inspired me with a poetic fervour for which the world may yet thank you, as I do! But marriage is not for such as I am. I must put aside the thought. I do put it aside! You should marry Charlbury, but my play you must allow me to dedicate to you!’

  ‘Th-thank you!’ faltered Cecilia, a good deal taken aback.

  ‘Well, she is going to marry Charlbury,’ said Sophy bracingly. ‘And now that that is settled, Augustus, pray will you go and find the eggs for Sancia?’

  ‘I know nothing of eggs,’ he said. ‘I fetched Talgarth from the cellar, and he has gone in search of t