Cotillion Read online

  ‘No, no!’ faltered Kitty, tightly clasping her hands. ‘Only—only a very little, sir, I promise!’

  ‘I can’t afford it!’ said Mr Penicuik, relapsing into decrepitude. ‘You’ll ruin me!’

  ‘You did say I should have a hundred pounds for my bride-clothes!’ Kitty reminded him desperately.

  He shook his head sadly. ‘You’d want more. Peacocking about the town! I know!’

  ‘No, indeed I should not!’ she assured him.

  ‘Yes, you would,’ interrupted Freddy. ‘Told you so last night!’

  ‘Oh, Freddy, do pray hold your tongue!’

  ‘Dashed if I will!’ said Freddy, feeling himself to be on firm ground. ‘You can’t buy town rig for a hundred pounds: shouldn’t think it would purchase more than one gown, myself.’

  ‘What?’ screamed Mr Penicuik.

  ‘Well, say a couple!’ conceded Freddy, willing to stretch a point.

  ‘Oh, Uncle Matthew, pray don’t heed him!’ begged Kitty.

  Perceiving that he had dealt his aged relative a severe blow, Freddy said kindly: ‘No need to put yourself about, sir: daresay m’mother will buy Kit some toggery. Always ready to sport the blunt!’

  This turned out to be a lucky suggestion, for however much he disliked spending money Mr Penicuik disliked still more to be thought impecunious. He instantly raised his drooping head, and withered Freddy with a few well-chosen words. After that, stifling another heavy groan, he desired Kitty to fetch him the box she would find in the cupboard beside his bed. This being done, he produced a key, and unlocked the case. Taking care that neither she nor Freddy should obtain a glimpse into the interesting box, he searched in it, and presently produced a roll of bills, tied up with tape. He regarded it wistfully for a moment, and then thrust it into Kitty’s hand, turning away his head, and moaning: ‘Take it! Put it up safely, girl! Oh dear, oh dear! Don’t let me see it again! To think of all that money squandered!’

  Kitty stuffed the roll into her pocket, terrified lest his feelings should overcome him and he should change his mind. She tried fittingly to express her gratitude, but he cut her short, saying that no one need accuse him of stinting her. Hardly had he spoken the words than a fresh nightmare presented itself to him, and for some agonizing minutes it seemed as though the whole scheme must fail. The problem of Kitty’s transport to London appeared to be insoluble. Her suggestion that she should travel on the stage was rejected, for, as Mr Penicuik pointed out, she had no maid to accompany her. He added that he had no doubt she expected him to engage one for her, but as such an idea had never so much as crossed her mind she was easily able to assuage his indignation. She ventured to suggest next that one of the chambermaids might go to London with her, but the thought of being obliged to pay this damsel’s coach-fare to London and back again cast him into renewed fury. A further, and most unwise, suggestion that Kitty should hire a post-chaise and pay for it with some of the money he had given her, shocked him so much that he seemed much inclined to take the bills back again. After a painful interlude, during which he reckoned up the extortionate charges of post-boys, the exact number of changes which would be necessary on the journey, and every other expense she might be expected to incur, Freddy, who was getting bored, intervened with a very simple solution. ‘Take her to town with me,’ he said.

  This offer, which, as he instantly perceived, relieved him of all the expense of his ward’s journey, found instant favour with Mr Penicuik; and he regarded Freddy with real if brief approval. It was Kitty who demurred. She could not but feel that Lady Legerwood might wish to receive notice of the impending visit—even of her eldest son’s betrothal. Both Freddy and Mr Penicuik thought this frivolous, Mr Penicuik being outraged by the suggestion that his niece might not welcome any ward of his into her family; and Freddy maintaining that the thing was more likely to come off right if his parents were taken by storm than if they were allowed time for reflection.

  This speech caused Mr Penicuik to direct one of his penetrating looks at him; but he said nothing, merely inhaling another pinch of snuff, and glancing sideways at Kitty. She still could not like the scheme, but as her fond guardian informed her that if she did not choose to go to London with Freddy she should not go at all, she was obliged to yield.

  Mr Penicuik then relapsed into profound thought, but just as the engaged couple, having exchanged speaking looks, were about to leave him, he emerged from his abstraction, and said: ‘No need to puff it off in the newspapers yet!’

  Freddy, who had no desire to advertize his engagement, accepted this with relief unmarred by any ulterior thought. Kitty, her mind more enquiring than his, looked suspiciously at Mr Penicuik, and demanded bluntly: ‘Why should we not, Uncle Matthew?’

  ‘Never mind why you should not!’ said Mr Penicuik irascibly. ‘Good God, girl, d’ye take me for a fool? Think I don’t know you’re playing deep?’ He observed, with satisfaction, the flush that coloured his ward’s cheeks, and chuckled. ‘You’re a good girl!’ he approved. ‘I daresay, if you were tricked out in all manner of finery, you wouldn’t look so ill, either. But, mind! I won’t be left with that Fish for more than a month!’

  On which valedictory utterance he dismissed his visitors, with the parting adjuration to make speedy preparations for their journey, because he had been put to enough expense already without having to provide dinner for Freddy that day.

  Once out of earshot, Kitty clasped Freddy’s arm, and said, in a rush of gratitude: ‘Oh, Freddy, how can I thank you sufficiently? I hope you may not dislike it excessively!’

  ‘No, no!’ said Freddy, always the soul of courtesy. ‘Thing was, thought it was time to give the old hunks the go-by! Never met such a cheese-paring fellow in all my life!’

  Six

  Since Miss Charing’s wardrobe was not extensive, the task of packing it was speedily accomplished, and it was not long after noon when the betrothed pair set forward upon the journey to London. Miss Charing’s almost dizzy delight at having so easily won her guardian’s consent to the visit was marred only by her fear that her hostess might not feel an equal degree of pleasure at the treat in store; and by the lachrymose conduct of Miss Fishguard, who wept without restraint while she helped her charge to pack, and asserted that she did not know what was to become of her, or how she was to look after Mr Penicuik to his satisfaction. It did not console her to be reminded that no one had ever succeeded in doing this; and the prospect of being separated from Kitty for a month so wrought upon her sensibility that she suddenly declaimed, between sobs: ‘“For all that pleased in wood or lawn, While peace possessed these silent bowers, Her animating smile withdrawn, Has lost its beauty and its powers!”’

  Kitty, always of a more practical turn of mind than her governess, wrinkled her brow at this, and said: ‘Well, but it is so horridly damp and cold at this season that the woods and lawns don’t please at all, Fish! And peace cannot possess Arnside when Uncle Matthew’s gout is so painful!’

  ‘Sometimes, Kitty,’ said Miss Fishguard tragically, ‘I wonder at you! Is “the pang which parts us from our weeping friends” unknown to you?’

  This reproach made Kitty feel so guilty that for the first stage of the journey her spirits were subdued, and she replied in monosyllables to such remarks as her companion addressed to her.

  ‘Not feeling quite the thing?’ enquired Freddy kindly.

  ‘Oh, yes, but I feel a wretch, Freddy!’ she confided. ‘Poor Fish asked me if I did not feel a pang at parting from her, and I do not!’

  ‘I should rather think you wouldn’t!’ said Freddy, without hesitation. ‘Can’t make the woman out at all, myself. Know what she said to me this morning? Asked me if I’d slept well, and when I told her that it beat me how anyone could sleep at all, with a dashed lot of cockerels crowing their heads off, she said that rural sounds exhilarate the spirit, and do something or other to languid nature!’