Anne Yeo
'Would you like me to play to you a little?' Anne asked, when Hyacinth
had returned and was sitting in the carved-oak chimney-corner, looking
thoughtful and picturesque.
'Oh no, please don't! Besides, I know you can't'
'No, thank goodness!' exclaimed Anne. 'I know I'm useful and practical,
and I don't mind that; but anyhow, I'm not cheerful, musical, and a
perfect lady, in exchange for a comfortable home, am I?'
'No, indeed,' said Hyacinth fervently.
'No-one can speak of me as "that pleasant, cultivated creature who lives
with Miss Verney," can they?'
'Not, at any rate, if they have any regard for truth,' said Hyacinth.
'I wish you wouldn't make me laugh. Why should I have a sense of humour?
I sometimes think that all your friends imagine it's part of my duty to
shriek with laughter at their wretched jokes. It wasn't in the contract.
If I were pretty, my ambition would have been to be an adventuress; but
an adventuress with no adventures would be a little flat. I might have
the worst intentions, but I should never have the chance of carrying
them out. So I try to be as much as possible like Thackeray's shabby
companion in a dyed silk.'
'Is that why you wear a sackcloth blouse trimmed with ashes?' said
Hyacinth, with curiosity.
'No, that's merely stinginess. It's my nature to be morbidly economical,
though I know I needn't be. If I hadn't had £500 a year left me, I
should never have been able to come and live here, and drop all my
horrid relations. I enjoy appearing dependent and being a spectator, and
I've absolutely given up all interest in my own affairs. In fact, I
haven't got any. And I take the keenest interest in other
people's--romances. Principally, of course, in yours.'
'I'm sure I don't want you to be so vicarious as all that--thanks
awfully,' said Hyacinth. 'At any rate, don't dress like a skeleton at
the feast tomorrow, if you don't mind. I've asked the little Ottleys to
dinner--and, I want Charles to come.'
'Oh, of course, if you expect Cecil Reeve!--I suppose you do, as you
haven't mentioned it--I'll put on my real clothes to do you credit.' She
looked out of the window. 'Here's poor old Charles again. How he does
dislike Lady Cannon!'
'What a shame, Anne! He's angelic to her.'
'That's what I meant,' said Anne, going out quickly.
'Charles, how nice of you to call and return your own visit the same
day! It's like Royalty, isn't it? It reminds me of the young man who was
asked to call again, and came back in half an hour,' said Hyacinth.
'I didn't quite see my way to waiting till Monday,' he answered. 'We're
going away the end of the week. Janet says she needs a change.'
'It would be more of a change if you remained in town alone; at least,
without Aunty.'
From the age of ten Hyacinth had resented having to call Lady Cannon by
this endearing name. How a perfect stranger, by marrying her cousin,
could become her aunt, was a mystery that she refused even to try to
solve. It was well meant, no doubt; it was supposed to make her feel
more at home--less of an orphan. But though she was obedient on this
point, nothing would ever induce her to call her cousin by anything but
his Christian name, with no qualification. Instinctively she felt that
to call them 'Charles and Aunty', while annoying the intruder, kept her
guardian in his proper place. What that was she did not specify.
'Well, can't you stay in London and come here, and be confided in and
consulted? You know you like that better than boring yourself to death
at Redlands.'
'Never mind that. How did you enjoy your drive?'
'Immensely, and I've asked both the little Ottleys to come to dinner
tomorrow--one of those impulsive, unconsidered invitations that one
regrets the second after. I must make up a little party. Will you come?'
'Perhaps, if I arranged to follow Janet to Redlands the next day, I
might. Who did you say was the other man?'
'I expect Cecil Reeve,' she said. 'Don't put on that air of marble
archness, Charles. It doesn't suit you at all. Tell me something
about him.'
'I can't stand him. That's all I know about him,' said Sir Charles.
'Oh, is that all? That's just jealousy, Charles.'
'Absurd! How can a married man, in your father's place, a hundred years
older than you, be jealous?'
'It is wonderful, isn't it?' she said. 'But you must know something
about him. You know everyone.'
'He's Lord Selsey's nephew--and his heir--if Selsey doesn't marry again.
He's only a young man about town--the sort of good-looking ass that your
sex admires.'
'Charles, what a brute you are! He's very clever.'
'My dear child, yes--as a matter of fact, I believe he is. Isn't he ever
going to _do_ something?'
'I don't know,' she said. 'I wish he would. Oh, _why_ don't you like
him?'
'What can it matter about me?' he answered. 'Why are you never satisfied
unless I'm in love with the same people that you are?'
'Charles!' she exclaimed, standing up. 'Don't you understand that not a
word, not a look has passed to suggest such a thing? I never met
anyone so--'
'So cautious?'
'No, so listless, and so respectful; and yet so amusing.... But I'm
pretty certain that he hates me. I wish I knew why.'
'And you hate him just as much, of course?'
'No, sometimes I don't. And then I want you to agree with me. No-one
sympathises really so well as you, Charles.'
'Not even Miss Yeo?'
'No, I get on so well with Anne because she doesn't She's always
interested, but I prefer her never to agree with me, as she lives here.
It would be enervating to have someone always there and perpetually
sympathetic. Anne is a tonic.'
'You need a little opposition to keep you up,' said Sir Charles.
'Didn't I once hear something about his being devoted to someone? Wasn't
there a report that he was going to be married to a Mrs. Raymond?'
'I believe it was once contradicted in the _Morning Post_ that he was
engaged to her,' said Sir Charles. 'But I'm sure there's no truth in it.
I know her.'
'No truth in the report? Or the contradiction?'
'In either. In anything.'
'So you know her. What's she like?' Hyacinth asked anxiously.
'Oh, a dear, charming creature--you'd like her; but not pretty, nor
young. About my age,' he said.
'Oh, I see! _That's_ all right, then!' She clapped her hands.
'Well, I must go. I'll arrange to turn up to dinner tomorrow.' He took
his hat, looking rather depressed.
'And try to make him like me!' she commanded, as Sir Charles took leave.