Part 2 (1/2)
We had had a nice scamper, and had turned to come back not far from the Park, when who do you think came riding up?--Lord Valmond! The last person one expected to see down here! He never waited a second when he saw me, but jumped off his horse and beamed--just as if we had parted the best of friends!!! _Did_ you ever hear such impudence? Of course I should have walked on without recognising him, if I had been left to myself, but he took me so by surprise that I had shaken hands before I knew, and then it was too late to walk on. It appears he has a place down here which he never comes to generally, but just happened to now--to see how the young pheasants were doing. He began at once to talk, as if I had never been angry or boxed his ears at all! It really exasperated me, so at last I said he had better get on his horse again, as I wanted to run on with Fido; so then he said he had just been on his way to call on Aunt Maria, and would come with me.
I said I was sure that wasn't true, as he was going the other way. So he said that he had only been going that way to give his horse a little exercise, and that he intended to go in at the other gate.
I said I was sure that wasn't true either, as there was no way round that way, unless one jumped the park palings. So he said that was what he had intended to do. Just then we came to the turnstile of the right-of-way, so I slipped through and called out, ”Then I won't keep you from your exercise,” and walked on as fast as I could.
[Sidenote: _Lady Farrington's Nap_]
What do you think he did, Mamma? Simply got on his horse, and jumped those palings there and then! I can't think how he wasn't killed. There was almost no take-off, and the fence is so high. However, there he was, and I could not get away again, because, if I had run, the horse could easily have kept up with me. But I only said ”Yes” and ”No” all the way to the house, so he could not have enjoyed it much. We went straight to the drawing-room, where tea was almost up, and there was Lady Farrington alone--still asleep, and her cap had fallen right back, and all the bald was showing; and just then a carriage drove up to the door, and we heard visitors and the footsteps in the hall. I had just time to cry to Lord Valmond, ”Keep them back while I wake her!” and then I rushed to Lady Farrington, and shouted in her ear, ”Visitors!
and--and--your cap is a little crooked!” ”Eh! what?” she screamed, and her teeth as nearly as possible jumped on to the carpet. She simply flew to the mirror, but, as you know, it is away so high up she couldn't see, so she made frantic efforts with her hands, and just got it to cover the bald, in a rakish, one-sided way, when the whole lot streamed into the room. Lord Valmond looked awfully uncomfortable.
Goodness knows what he had said to them to keep them back! Anyway, Harvey announced ”Mrs. and the Misses Clarke,” and a thin, very high-nosed person, followed by two buffish girls, came forward. Lady Farrington said, ”How d'ye do?” as well as she could. They were some friends of hers and Aunt Maria's, who are staying with the Morverns, I gathered from their conversation. They _must_ have thought she had been on a spree since last they met! I could hardly behave for laughing, and did not dare to look at Lord Valmond.
They had not been there more than five minutes when another carriage arrived, and two other ladies were announced. ”The Misses Clark!” The other Clarkes glared like tigers, and Lady Farrington lowered her chin and eyelashes at them (she has just the same manners as the people at Nazeby, although she is such a frump--it is because she is an earl's daughter, I suppose), and she called out to Harvey at the top of her voice, ”Let Lady Worden be told at once there are visitors.” The poor new things looked so uncomfortable, that I felt, as I was Aunt Maria's niece, I at least must be polite to them; so I asked them to sit down, and we talked. They were jolly, fat, vulgar souls, who have taken the Ortons' place they told me, and this was their return visit, as the Ortons had asked Aunt Maria to call. They were quite old maids, past thirty, with such funny, grand, best smart Sunday-go-to-meeting looking clothes on.
[Sidenote: _An Afternoon Call_]
It appears that Harvey had sent a footman up to Aunt Maria's door, to tell of the first Clarkes' arrival, and then, terrified by Lady Farrington's voice, had rushed up himself to announce the second lot, and he met Aunt Maria on the stairs coming down, and of course she never heard the difference between ”Mrs.” and the ”Misses,” and thought he was simply hurrying her up for the first set. So in she sailed all smiles, and as Mrs. Clarke was nearest the door, she got to her first, and _was_ so glad to see her.
”Dear, dear, _years_ since we met, Honoria,” she said; ”and these are all your bonny girls, tut, tut!” and she looked at the fat Clarks who came next. ”Ah! yes I can see! What a wonderful likeness to poor dear Arthur!”
Furious glances from Mrs. Clarke, whose daughters are my age!
”And this must be Millicent,” she went on, taking the second fat Clark's hand. ”Yes, yes; why, she takes after you, my dear Honoria, tut, tut!” and she squeezed hands, and beamed at them all in the kindest way. Mrs. Clarke, bursting with fury, tried to say they were no relations of hers; but, of course, Aunt Maria could not catch all that, only the word ”relations,” and she then caught sight of the buff Clarklets in the background.
[Sidenote: _A Friendly Invitation_]
”Ah, yes! I see, these are your girls; I have mistaken your other relations for them.” Then she turned again to the fat Clarks, evidently liking their jolly faces best. ”But one can see they are Clarkes. Let me guess. Yes, they must be poor Henry's children!” At this, Lord Valmond had such a violent fit of choking by the tea-table, that Aunt Maria, who hears the oddest, most unexpected things, caught that, and saw him, and saying, ”Howd' ye do?” created a diversion. Presently I heard Lady Farrington roaring in a whisper into her ears the difference between the Clarkes and the Clarks, and the poor dear was so upset; but her kind heart came up trumps, and she was awfully nice to the two vulgar Clarks, who had the good sense to go soon, and then the others went. Then she got Lord Valmond on to her sofa, and he screamed such heaps of nice things into her ear, just as if she had been Mrs. Smith, and she was _so_ pleased. And Uncle John came in, and they talked about the pheasants, and he asked Lord Valmond to dinner on Sat.u.r.day night (to-morrow), and he looked timidly at me, to see if I was still angry with him and wanted him not to come, so I smiled _sweetly_, and he accepted joyfully. Isn't it lovely, Mamma? I shall be home with you by then, and Lady Farrington and Major Orwell are going too! So he will have to play dummy whist all the evening with Uncle and Aunt, and eat his dinner at half-past six! Now, good-night.--Your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.
HAZELDENE COURT
Hazeldene Court,
_Tuesday, 9th August_.
[Sidenote: _The Horse Show_]
Dearest Mamma,--There is a huge party here for the Horse Show, and I daresay I shall enjoy myself. We had no sooner got into the station at Paddington than in the distance I caught sight of Lord Valmond. I pretended not to see him, and got behind a barrow of trunks, and then slipped into the carriage and made Agnes sit by the door. We saw him walking up and down, and, just before the train started, he came and got into our carriage. He seemed awfully surprised to see me, said he had not an idea he should meet me, and apologised for disturbing me, but he said all the other carriages were full. He seemed so uppish and unconcerned that I felt obliged to ask him how he enjoyed his dinner with Aunt Maria on Sat.u.r.day. He said he had enjoyed it awfully, and that Aunt Maria was a charming hostess. He asked me if I was going far down the line, or only just on the river. I said not very far. I tried to be as stiff as possible and not speak, and I did not tell him where I was going, but, do you know, Mamma, there is no snubbing him. He said at once that he was going to Hazeldene Court, to stay with his cousins the Westaways. I said, ”Indeed!” and he said, ”Yes, aren't they cousins of yours too?” and when I said ”Yes,” he said he felt sure we were related, and mightn't he call me Elizabeth!!! I just told him I thought him the rudest, most detestable man I had ever met; and if he spoke to me again at all, I should ask the guard to find me another carriage.
[Sidenote: _Lord Valmond Presumes_]
He was awfully surprised, and said he had not meant to be the least rude; he thought it was the custom for cousins to call each other by their Christian names, and _his_ name was Harry. (Just as if I did not know that, after hearing Mrs. Smith calling him every few minutes!) I said in a freezing tone we were not related in any way, and I wished to read the paper, upon which he produced every imaginable kind, lots of ladies' papers that he could not possibly have wanted for himself. I don't know who he expected to meet. However, I would not have any of them, but looked at a _Punch_ I had bought myself. You know that uncomfortable feeling one has when some one is staring at one--it makes one obliged to look up--so after a while our eyes met over the _Punch_, and he smiled, and his teeth are so white. All he said was, ”I was thinking of the Clarkes and Clarks.” And in spite of my being indignant with him I could not help laughing, when I remembered about them, and then it was hard to be very stiff again at once.
[Sidenote: _The Offending Dimple_]
Just about this time Agnes went to sleep in the other corner, and the moment Lord Valmond saw she was really off, he bent forward and said in such a humble voice, that he was sorry he had offended me at Nazeby; he had yielded to a sudden temptation, and he could only ask me to forgive him. He had quite mistaken my character he said, he now saw I was a serious person, but he had been deceived by the dimple in my left cheek. (Now isn't it provoking, Mamma, to have a dimple like that, that gives people the impression they may treat you with want of respect?) I said I did not believe a word of it, and, as we were only the merest acquaintances, it did not matter whether I forgave him or not, and I hoped he would not mention the subject again. He then asked me if I was going to stop at Hazeldene until Sat.u.r.day. So you see, Mamma, he must have known I was going there all along; aren't men odd? You can't trust them one minute not to be deceiving you, only I think on the whole I prefer them to women, they can't copy your clothes at all events. After that he seemed to think we had quite made everything up, and went on talking in the friendliest way, but I _would not_ thaw; he shall not have the chance of blaming my dimple again for any of his misconduct!
At last I said I hated talking in the train, and pretended to go to sleep. But I could not get really off, because every time I opened my eyes just to see where we were, I found him looking at me. A huge omnibus was waiting for us when we arrived, and several more guests had come by the same train and we all drove to the house together. They were having tea on the croquet lawn--Lady Westaway and some other people, and the eldest son's wife. You remember what a fuss there was when he married, how Lady Westaway had hysterics for three days. Well, she looks as if she could have them again any moment.
[Sidenote: _An Attractive Woman_]