I really had not courage to take my usual canter the morning after
Hampton Races. I did not feel as if I could face the umbrella and the
cigar at the rails in "the Ride," and yet I rang the bell once for my
maid to help me on with my habit, and had my hand on it more than once
to order my horse; but I thought better of it. Poor Aunt Deborah's
cold was still bad, though she was downstairs; so I determined to take
care of her, in common gratitude, and give her the advantage of my
agreeable society. I am very fond of Aunt Deborah in my own way, and I
know there is nothing she likes so much as a "quiet morning with
Kate."
The hours passed off rather slowly till luncheon-time. I did forty-two
stitches of worsted-work--I never do more than fifty at a time, unless
it's "grounding"--and I got off Hannah More because Aunt Deborah was
too hoarse to read to _me_, and I really cannot read that excellent
work to _her_ without laughing; but I thought luncheon never would be
ready, and when it did come I couldn't eat any. However, I went
upstairs afterwards, and smoothed my hair and set my collar straight,
and was glad to hear Aunt Deborah give her usual order that she was
"at home" with her usual solemnity. I had not been ten minutes in the
drawing-room before a knock at the door brought my heart into my
mouth, and our tragic footman announced "Captain Lovell" in his most
tragic voice. In marched Frank, who had never set eyes on my aunt in
his life, and shook hands with _me_, and made _her_ a very low bow,
with a degree of effrontery that nothing but a _man_ could ever have
been capable of assuming. Aunt Deborah drew herself up--and she really
is very formidable when she gets on her _high horse_--and looked first
at me, and then at Frank, and then at me again; and I blushed like a
fool, and hesitated, and introduced "Captain Lovell" to "My aunt, Miss
Horsingham!" and I didn't the least know what to do next, and had a
great mind to make a bolt for it and run upstairs. But our visitor
seemed to have no misgivings whatever, and smoothed his hat and talked
about the weather as if he had known us all from childhood. I have
often remarked that if you only deprive a man of the free use of his
hands there is no difficulty which he is unable to face. Give him
something to handle and keep fidgeting at, and he seems immediately to
be in his element, never mind what it is--a paper-knife and a book to
open, or a flower to pull in pieces, or a pair of scissors and a bit
of thread to snip, or even the end of a stick to suck--and he draws
inspiration, and what is more to the purpose, _conversation_, from any
and all of these sources.
But let him have his hands entirely to himself, give him nothing to
"lay hold of," and he is completely dumbfoundered on the spot. Here
was Frank brushing and smoothing away at his hat till it shone like
black satin, and facing my aunt with a gallantry and steadiness beyond
all praise; but I believe if I could have snatched it away from him
and hid it under the sofa, he would have been routed at once, and must
have fled in utter bewilderment and dismay. After my aunt had replied
courteously enough to a few commonplace observations, she gave one of
her ominous coughs, and I trembled for the result.
"Captain _Beville_," said my aunt. "I think I once knew a family of
your name in Hampshire--the New Forest, if I remember rightly."
"Excuse me," said Frank, nowise disconcerted, and with a sly glance at
me, "my name is Lovell."
"Oh," replied my aunt, with a considerable assumption of stateliness,
"then--ahem!--Captain _Greville_, I don't think I have ever had the
pleasure of meeting you before."
And my aunt looked as if she didn't care whether she ever met him
again. This would have been a "poser" to most people; but Frank
applied himself diligently to his hat, and opened the trenches in his
own way.
"The fact is, Miss Horsingham," said he, "that I have taken advantage
of my intimacy with your nephew to call upon you without a previous
introduction, in hopes of ascertaining what has become of an old
brother officer of mine, a namesake of yours, and consequently, I
should conclude, a relative. There is, I believe, only one family in
England of your name. Excuse me, Miss Horsingham, for so personal a
remark, but I am convinced he must have been a near connection from a
peculiarity which every one who knows anything about our old English
families is aware belongs to yours: my poor friend Charlie had a
beautiful 'hand.' _You_, madame, I perceive, own the same advantage;
therefore I am convinced you must be a near connection of my old
comrade. You may think me impertinent, but there is no mistaking 'the
Horsingham hand.'"
Aunt Deborah gave in at once.
"I cannot call to mind at this moment any relative of mine who is
likely to have served with you" (nor was this to be wondered at, the
warrior _aux blanches mains_ being a fabulous creation of wicked
Frank); "but I have no doubt, Captain Lovell, that you are correct. I
have great pleasure in making your acquaintance, particularly as you
seem well acquainted with our belongings. Do you stay any length of
time in town?"
"I seldom remain till the end of the season; but this year I think I
shall. By the way, Miss Horsingham, I saw a curious old picture the
other day in the West of England, purporting to be a portrait of the
celebrated 'Ysonde of Brittany, with the White Hand,' in which I
traced a strong resemblance to some of the Horsinghams, with whom I am
acquainted. Yours is, I believe, an old Norman family; and as I am a
bit of an antiquary" (O Frank, Frank!), "I consulted my friend Sir J.
Burke on the subject, who assures me that the 'Le Montants'--Godfrey
le Montant, if you remember, distinguished himself highly in the
second crusade--that the Le Montants claimed direct descent from the
old Dukes of Brittany, and consequently from the very lady of whom we
are speaking. Roger le Montant came over with the Conqueror, and
although strangely omitted from the Roll of Battle Abbey, doubtless
received large grants of land in Hampshire from William; and two
generations later we can trace his descendant, Hugo, in the same
locality, under the Anglicized name of Horsengem, now corrupted to
Horsingham, of which illustrious family you are, of course, aware
yours is a younger branch. It is curious that the distinguishing mark
of the race should have been preserved in all its shapely beauty,"
added Frank, with the gravest face possible, and glancing at the
lavender kids, "through so many changes and so many successive
generations."
Aunt Deborah was delighted. "Such a clever young man, my dear!" she
said to me afterwards. "Such manners! such a voice! _quite_ one of the
old school--evidently well-bred, and with that respect for good blood
which in these days, I regret to say, is fast becoming obsolete. Kate,
I like him vastly!"
In the meantime she entered freely into conversation with our visitor;
and before he went away--by which time his hat looked as if it had
been ironed--"she hoped he would call again; she was always at home
till two o'clock, and trusted to have the pleasure of his company at
dinner as soon as she was well enough to get anybody to meet him."
So Frank went off to ride in the Park on the neatest possible brown
hack; for I saw him quite plainly trot round the corner as I went into
the balcony to water my poor geraniums.
Well, I waited and waited, and John never came for me, as was his
usual habit; and I began to think I must lose my ride, for I am not
allowed to go by myself in the afternoons; and at last I was obliged
to coax Aunt Deborah to take me out in the open carriage, for it was a
beautiful day, and it would be just the thing for her cold. So we went
dowagering about, and shopped in Bond Street, and looked at some lace
in Regent Street, and left cards for Lady Horsingham, as in duty
bound, after helping her to "make a good ball;" and then we went into
the Ring, and I looked and looked everywhere, but I could not see
anything like Frank or his brown hack. To be sure the Ride was as
crowded as a fair. But I _did_ see Cousin John, and I _must_ say it
was too bad of him to keep me waiting and watching all the afternoon,
and then never to take the trouble of sending a note or a message, but
to start off by himself and escort Miss Molasses, as if he was her
brother _at least_, if not a nearer relation. Miss Molasses, forsooth,
with her lackadaisical ways and her sentimental nonsense; and that
goose John taking it all in open-mouthed, as if she was an angel upon
earth. Well, at all events she don't _ride_ like me. Such a figure _I_
never saw on a horse!--all on one side, like the handle of a teapot,
bumping when she trots and wobbling when she canters, with braiding
all over her habit, and a _white_ feather in her hat, and gauntlet
gloves (_of course_ one may wear gauntlet gloves for hunting, but
_that's_ not London), and her sallow face. People call her
interesting, but _I_ call her _bilious_. And a wretched long-legged
Rosinante, with _round_ reins and tassels, and a netting over its
ears, and a head like a fiddle-case, and no more action than a
camp-stool. Such a couple I never beheld. I wonder John wasn't ashamed
to be seen with her, instead of leaning his hand upon her horse's
neck, and looking up in her face with his broad, honest smile, and
taking no more notice of her sister Jane, who is a clever girl, with
something in her, than if she had been the groom. I was provoked with
him beyond all patience. Had it been Mrs. Lumley, for instance, I
could have understood it; for she certainly is a chatty, amusing
woman, though dreadfully _bold_, and it is a pleasure to see her
canter up the Park in her close-fitting habit and her neat hat, with
her beautiful round figure swaying gracefully to every motion of her
horse, yet so imperceptibly that you could fancy she might balance a
glassful of water on her head without spilling a drop. To say nothing
of the brown mare, the only animal in London I covet, who is herself a
picture. Such action! such a mouth! and such a shape! I coaxed Aunt
Deborah to wait near Apsley House, on purpose that we might see her
before we left the Park. And sure enough we did see her, as usual
surrounded by a swarm of admirers; and next to her--positively next to
her--Frank Lovell, on the very brown hack that had been standing an
hour at our door. He saw me too, and took his hat off; and she said
something to him, and they both laughed!
I asked Aunt Deborah to go home, for it was getting late, and the
evening air was not very good for her poor cold. I did not feel well
myself somehow; and when dear aunty told me I looked pale, I was
forced to confess to a slight headache. I am not subject to low
spirits generally--I have no patience with a woman that is--but of
course one is sometimes a "little out of sorts;" and I confess I did
not feel quite up to the mark that evening, I cannot tell why. If John
flatters himself it was because he behaved so brutally in
disappointing me, he is very much mistaken; and as for Captain Lovell,
I am sure he may ride with anybody he likes for what I care. I wonder,
with all his cleverness, he can't see how that woman is only laughing
at him. However, it's no business of mine. So I went into my boudoir,
drank some tea, and then locked myself in and had a "good cry."