THE COMMONSTONE BALL.
The same evening that all this discussion--one might almost say
plotting and counter-plotting--concerning the Commonstone ball was
going on at the Grange, there was a conversation going on at Todborough
Rectory, which, could she but have heard it, would have somewhat opened
Lady Mary's eyes to the conspiracy of which she had been the victim.
"I wonder," exclaimed Laura Chipchase, "whether Jim has carried his
point? He vowed to-day the Grange party should go to the ball, and I
hope they may."
"Yes," said Miss Sylla, "it is always nicer, I think, to be one of a
large party in an affair of this sort. You are quite independent
then,--a ball within a ball, as it were."
"Just so," said the younger sister. "And though we know plenty of
people, and are not likely to want for partners, yet it's not the fun
of going a big party. As for you, Sylla, I can't imagine your wanting
partners anywhere." And the girl gazed with undisguised admiration at
her pretty cousin.
"The young men are mostly good to me," replied Miss Sylla demurely.
"But what made Lady Mary set her face so dead against this ball? You
told me she was full of fun, and either assisted at or promoted all the
gaiety in the neighbourhood."
"Ah, I cannot understand that," rejoined Laura. "The excuse about
Blanche requiring rest is all nonsense. Why, she told me to-day, she
was never better, and, as you yourself heard, said she should like to
go to this ball immensely."
"Ah, well," said Sylla, with a shrug of her shoulders and a slight
elevation of her expressive eyebrows, "I don't think I care much about
your Lady Mary; your word-painting has been a little too flattering."
"You mustn't condemn her just because she has got this whim in her
head. We know her well, and like her very much. We have been brought
up so much with her own children, you know. But you never told us you
knew Mr. Cottrell."
"Why should I?" rejoined Sylla. "I hadn't the slightest idea he was in
these parts until I saw him. He is a dear clever old gentleman" (if
Pansey could but have heard that!), "and one of my most devoted
admirers. I met him at the Hogdens' last autumn. It amused me so much
to see how he always got his own way about everything, that I struck up
a desperate flirtation with him, and then, you see, I got mine. Oh,
you needn't look shocked. It's great fun when they have arrived at
years of discretion, like Mr. Cottrell; they always get you everything
you want, and are no more in earnest than you are. Then they are
always at hand to save you 'an infliction.' I always said I was
engaged to Mr. Cottrell whenever I didn't want to dance with any one
who claimed me, and if I made him a pretty speech, he would always
forgive my throwing him over. My dear Laura," continued the young lady
gravely, "an admirer of that sort is worth a good half-dozen younger
ones. But tell me a little more about the Bloxams."
"There is nothing much to tell," rejoined Laura. "The Squire is just
what you saw him--a fresh, genial, and hospitable country gentleman.
Blanche is a dear unaffected girl, a good horsewoman, and good at lawn
tennis, billiards, and all that sort of thing. Jim Bloxam is what you
see--as gay, light-hearted, and rattlepated a dragoon as any in the
service; and as for Lady Mary, she is very much better than you give
her credit for."
"Whether the big house goes or not makes a difference in our staff of
partners," observed the younger Miss Chipchase sententiously. "Let's
see: there's Captain Bloxam, Captain Braybrooke, and Mr. Sartoris--all
most eligible, don't you think so, Laura? I wonder what this other man
is like whom Blanche talked about--Lionel Beauchamp? he comes to-night."
"What, Lionel Beauchamp!" exclaimed Sylla: "do you mean to say Lionel
Beauchamp is coming to the Grange?"
"So Blanche told me this afternoon; why, do you know him?"
"Know him? yes, pretty much in the same way you know Jim Bloxam. By
the way, do you call him 'Jim'?" (The two girls nodded assent.) "Ah,
I like to ask about these things: proprieties differ in different
counties; it strikes me Fernshire is of the rigidly decorous order."
"Well," laughed Miss Chipchase, "it is past twelve; and if Todborough
Rectory is to keep its character, we must be off to bed and listen no
more to your Suffolk gabbling. It's well mamma is laid up with a cold,
or we should have been broomed off long ago."
"Very well, Laura; in revenge for that last aspersion I will tell you
nothing whatever more about Lionel Beauchamp. Only promise me one
thing: don't let out that he and I have known each other from
childhood, please don't. I do so want to see Lady Mary's face when she
hears me call him Lionel. I suspect she is inclined to think me a very
fast young woman. She shall!" and with this ominous menace Miss Sylla
danced upstairs to bed. Lady Mary, when she found that she must yield
in the matter of the ball, was far too clever a diplomatist not to give
a most gracious assent. She laughed, and vowed that she really thought
a set of Londoners like they all were would have looked forward to
quiet during the Easter holidays; but as they preferred racket, well,
racket be it to their hearts' content. Her duty towards her guests as
hostess was simply to promote the happiness of the greater number.
They would all go to Commonstone, and it only remained now to settle
the matter of transport. The break would hold eight comfortably. If
Mr. and Mrs. Evesham with their daughters, Mr. and Mrs. Sartoris, Mr.
Cottrell, and the Squire would go in that, then she, Blanche, and
either Captain Braybrooke or Mr. Beauchamp could go in the carriage,
and Jim could drive one gentleman over in the dog-cart.
Jim Bloxam knew that he had carried his point sorely against his
mother's inclination; but he had got his cue now, and resolved to
second all her arrangements loyally.
"All right, mother," he said, "that will do very well, you take
Beauchamp in the carriage, and Braybrooke can come in the cart with me."
Although the party generally cared little about the manner of their
going to the ball, there was one exception, and this was Mr. Pansey
Cottrell. That gentleman was extremely fond of his own ease and
comfort, and when a hostess presumed to take him out to a country ball,
he did consider that she was at least bound to find him a front seat in
a most comfortable carriage. "Breaks are all very well," quoth Mr.
Cottrell, "for tough country gentlemen; but I don't expect to be carted
about as if I was a stag on Easter Monday." In short, although Pansey
Cottrell could hardly have been said to be seriously annoyed, yet he
held Lady Mary guilty of a want of consideration for a man of his
status in the fashionable world. To the mischief inherent in his
disposition, and which so often led him to thwart the schemes of those
about him, was now added a mild feeling of resentment, not amounting to
anger, but a feeling that he owed it to himself to mete out some slight
punishment to his hostess. "Yes," he muttered, as he arranged his
white tie in the glass just before dinner, "I think, Lady Mary, the
chances are that I shall contrive to make you a little uncomfortable
this evening. That Sylla Chipchase is as full of devilry as she can
be, and with a very pretty taste for privateering besides. If I give
her a hint of your designs, I should think there is nothing she would
like better than to do a little bit of cutting-out business, and
temporarily capture Lionel Beauchamp under the very guns of the fair
Blanche; however, I shall be guided by events. But there is one thing,
my lady, you may be sure--I shall not forget I was relegated to a
break."
When the ringers are not in accord the result is wont to be
"Sweet bells jangled, out of tune."
Upon arrival at Commonstone it became at once evident that Lady Mary
had shamefully libelled the Easter ball. It was a mixed ball,
certainly; but by no means the tag, rag, and bobtail affair that Lady
Mary had stigmatized it. If there was a sprinkling of the tradespeople
and also of strangers, there was also a large muster of all the best
people in Commonstone and its neighbourhood. The Rockcliffe camp, too,
had sent a strong contingent; and altogether, with a good room and good
music, there was every prospect, as Jim Bloxam said, of a real good
dance. That the Misses Chipchase should meet the Grange party and
attach themselves to it was but natural. They had always been
encouraged to do so, and how were they to know that the _avatar_ of
such an incarnation of fun, spirits, and beauty as Sylla should have
made Lady Mary repent of former good-nature? However, Jim showed the
way with Mrs. Sartoris, and the whole party were soon whirling away to
the strains of the "Zingari" valses.
"At last, Mrs. Sartoris," said Jim, "I taste the sweets of successful
diplomacy, and in the Commonstone terpsichorean temple publicly
acknowledge the valuable assistance you lent me in the late great
crisis."
"I am very glad, Captain Bloxam," replied Mrs. Sartoris, laughing,
"that my poor exertions have been so fully recognized. I am terribly
afraid that Lady Mary has registered a black mark against my name as a
giddy and contumacious guest, not to be lightly entertained for the
future."
"No," replied Jim, "I must stand up for my mother; she may fume a good
deal at the time, but she never bears malice. But here comes one of my
greatest allies, Dick Conyers; I hope you will allow me to present him
to you."
Mrs. Sartoris bowed assent; the introduction made, his name duly
inscribed on the lady's tablets, and Captain Conyers exclaimed,
"Of course you are coming to 'our athletics' to-morrow? I know cards
have been duly sent to the Grange--for the matter of that, round the
country generally. There will be lunch all over the camp; but mind, I
expect you to patronize our mess in particular. Mile races, half-mile
races, quarter-mile races, sack races, barrow races,--in short,
humanity contending on its feet in every possible shape."
"The very thing," said Jim, "after a ball; don't you think so, Mrs.
Sartoris? Fresh air, amusement, gentle exercise, and a little
stimulant close at hand if we feel low."
"Ah, Mrs. Sartoris," replied Conyers, "and I really am a little low
about to-morrow. The best race of the day is a quarter-mile race for
the 'All Army Cup.' There is a horribly conceited young Engineer of
the name of Montague who already regards it as his own property; and
saddest of all remains the fact that, notwithstanding his crowing, he
can run above a bit; we have nobody in the camp with a chance of
defeating him."
"Why don't you make Captain Bloxam, here, run?" said Mrs. Sartoris.
"Why, you know," she said, turning to Jim, "that you beat all the men
at the Orleans Club a fortnight ago across the cricket-ground in that
impromptu handicap."
"Of course," replied Conyers; "I never thought of that. I remember now
you won the quarter mile at Aldershot last year. Capital! this race is
open to the whole army, and the entries don't close till to-morrow.
I'll stick your name down; and if ever you wish to do me a turn, mind
you cut Montague's comb for him to-morrow."
"Well, I can only say," replied Jim, "I am good to have a shy, and will
do my best."
Enthroned amongst the chaperons, and keeping a watchful eye upon her
flock, Lady Mary so far views their proceedings with much complacency.
After two successive dances with Blanche, Lionel Beauchamp has
disappeared with that young lady, and though her daughter is no longer
under her eye, still Lady Mary feels that events are marching in the
right direction. However, it seemed as if Miss Bloxam had retired into
the purlieus of the ball-room for the evening, and though, under the
circumstances of her disappearance, Lady Mary felt no whit disturbed,
about it, yet she thought she should like a cup of tea, and asked Mr.
Sartoris to be her escort. But upon arrival at the tea-room, her
equanimity was destined to be somewhat upset, for the first sight that
met her eyes was Lionel Beauchamp and Sylla Chipchase seated in one of
the corners, and apparently engaged in a tolerably pronounced
flirtation. Now, in the confusion of the greeting between the Grange
party and the rectory people, it had quite escaped Lady Mary that
Lionel Beauchamp shook hands like an old acquaintance with Sylla. She
had, therefore, no idea that they had met before this evening, and her
dismay at finding Mr. Beauchamp improving his opportunities with Miss
Sylla, when she had pictured him similarly engaged with Blanche, may be
easily imagined. However, crossing over to the culprit, she observed,
with a pleasant smile,
"Not half a bad ball, Mr. Beauchamp, I think. I can only hope you find
it so. I really am quite glad I was persuaded into coming. By the
way, what have you done with Blanche? She was dancing with you when I
last saw her some half-hour ago."
"Oh, the room was so warm,", replied Lionel, "we came down here to get
cool; and then Mr. Cottrell and Miss Sylla joined us; and then Cottrell
told Miss Bloxam that it was his dance--or you wanted her--or
something, and----"
"Left me as a substitute," interrupted Sylla Chipchase.
"Ah, well," said Lady Mary, "if Mr. Cottrell is taking care of her,
Blanche is in good hands; I need not trouble myself much about her."
"You make a terrible mistake there, Lady Mary," said Sylla, in accents
of mock anguish. "Mr. Cottrell is one of the most dangerous and
inconstant of his sex. He made most desperate love last year to me in
Suffolk, whispers pretty speeches into my ear the whole of this
evening, and then turns me over--consigns me, I believe, is the proper
term--to Mr. Beauchamp as if I were a bale of calico!" And the young
lady assumed the prettiest attitude of most pitiable resignation.
"I was quite right," thought Lady Mary, as she resumed her cavalier's
arm: "it is as I thought; that girl is as practised and brazen a flirt
as ever crossed a poor woman's schemes. It was an ill wind that blew
her into Fernshire this Easter."
"Come along, Lionel," said Sylla; "remember that here we must not call
each other by our Christian names. Fernshire don't understand that we
have been brought up together. In Suffolk it's different; but
Fernshire will be putting it down as my habit to call all gentlemen by
their Christian names, and I certainly don't want that."
"As you like, Syl--I mean, Miss Chipchase," replied Lionel; and with
that they made their way to the ball-room, where Jim Bloxam immediately
claimed the young lady's hand.
In the course of their dance Jim told his partner all about the
programme for the morrow; how it was arranged that they should all
drive up to the camp to lunch, look at the games, and either walk or
drive back as seemed good to then. Then he confided to her how he was
going to enter for the "All Army Cup." "Principally," continued Jim,
"to oblige Dick Conyers, who is so extremely anxious to see the conceit
taken out of a fellow in the Engineers called Montague."
"And you," said Sylla, who manifested great interest in the affair,
"are you really a good runner?"
"Well, no, I can hardly say that--remember that is rather a big thing
to say; but I am a bit above the average, and have beaten good fields
upon three or four occasions."
"I understand; and what chance do you think you have with this Mr.
Montague? Recollect, I mean plunging in gloves unless you assure me it
is hopeless."
"Well, if I thought it that," replied Jim, "I shouldn't run, and that's
about as much as I can say. I have never seen Montague run, and I
don't think either of us can possibly draw an estimate of the other's
form; still, the best man in a camp like Rockcliffe must be a pretty
good amateur. I can only take for my comfort that Aldershot is bigger,
and I proved myself the best man there over a similar distance last
year."
"That's good enough for me. You must pardon my getting a little
slangy," replied Sylla, laughing; "but, dear me! when we come down to
pedestrianism we can't help it. I like your friend Captain Conyers.
He is very anxious, you tell me, to see Mr. Montague's colours lowered."
"Yes, I assure you he was quite pathetic in his adjuration to me to do
my utmost," rejoined Jim.
"Ah, well, we must hope he will be gratified, and in spite of _Punch's_
wicked comparison of the dismounted dragoon to the goose on the
turnpike-road, I shall hope to see the camp champion go down before
Todborough to-morrow. But now tell me, how long have you known Lionel
Beauchamp?"
"I met him this year in London for the first time."
"What do you think of him?"
"He is a very good fellow as far as I can judge," replied Jim; "very
quiet; but you know I have had no opportunity of seeing much of him."
"You never saw him ride, I suppose?"
"No, except in the Row. Does he hunt?"
"Oh, yes, he hunts in his own county," replied Sylla. "You never saw
him shoot, I suppose?"
"No, he doesn't attend Hurlingham; that is to say, I mean he doesn't go
in for pigeons. But why all these questions, Miss Sylla?"
"Never mind; that's my secret. You may be sure it is intended for your
good," laughed his interrogator. "In short, you never saw him ride,
shoot, nor do any of those things."
"No," rejoined Jim, much amused; "I never saw him commit himself to
rackets, skating, billiards, or any of those things."
"Ah," rejoined Sylla, "I was curious to see how much you knew about
him. And now I think I must go and join the rest of them."
Upon arriving at the part of the ball-room in which Lady Mary had taken
up her abode, they found most of the elders of the party assembled, and
the expediency of a move homewards prominently under discussion.
"Ah, make room for me, please," exclaimed the vivacious young lady, "in
that corner next to you, Mr. Cottrell. You have neglected me
shamefully the whole of the evening, you know. The sole admirer I can
reckon on in all Fernshire, an adorer privileged to say sweet things to
me, and whose bounden duty it is never to neglect an opportunity of
administering such sugarplums--how dare you treat me so? You abandon
me in the tea-room, leaving me to be picked up like any other derelict
by the passing stranger. Now, Mr. Cottrell, I should just like to hear
what you have got to say in your defence."
"Well, Miss Sylla," rejoined the accused, "I left you under very
tolerable protection, and Lady Mary had given me a hint to find Miss
Bloxam for her if I could."
"I don't believe a word of it," replied the young lady. "You got rid
of me, you know you did, because you felt lazy and unequal to the
exigencies of the situation."
Of course Pansey Cottrell knew that this was all fooling; but then,
like many other middle-aged gentlemen, he rather liked such fooling
with a pretty girl; in fact, was somewhat given to what may be
designated as fatherly flirtation.
"I don't think I left you quite so desolate as you make out. I should
imagine Beauchamp an eligible cavalier. He comes from your county, so
no doubt you know him."
"Yes, Mr. Beauchamp and I have foregathered before to-day."
"Ah, it was provoking," continued Cottrell, "after all the pains I took
on your behalf, that Lady Mary, looking upon you as one of her charges,
should be so sternly determined to do her duty by you as to penetrate
the tea-room and nip such a promising flirtation in the bud."
"Yes," said the girl musingly, "I don't think she was altogether
pleased at finding me there. Still, I can't see that Lady Mary's duty
extends to us just because we have joined her party."
"Can't you really, Miss Sylla?" replied Cottrell, with a twinkle in his
eye and a preternatural solemnity of manner that immediately aroused
the young lady's attention. "Don't you know that one of the most
important duties of the governors of all communities is to see that the
right men are in the right place?"
"I don't understand you," said Sylla.
"To speak more plainly, then, it is the duty of chaperons to see that
the right men don't sit out with the wrong ladies."
"Ah," replied Sylla, her eyes dancing with fun, "I think I begin to
understand you now. I was the wrong young lady."
"Well," said Cottrell, "I am very much afraid you were. Do you see now
why I so basely deserted you and changed partners with Beauchamp? You
used to be quick enough in abetting me in such pranks last winter."
"I declare," rejoined Sylla, laughing, "you are the wickedest and most
amusing man I ever came across. You dare to tell me that these Bloxam
people have the audacity to come poaching on our Suffolk preserves?"
"Oh, I don't say that; still, people are so unscrupulous now-a-days.
But I want your help in another little bit of mischief."
"What is it?" rejoined the young lady, with an animation which promised
ready assent.
"Do you know Beauchamp well enough to ask him to dance?"
"Yes, certainly; only don't you let them know it at the Grange."
"Not I. The carriages have just been sent for; make him dance with
you, and take him out of the way when I signal to you. He came here
with Lady Mary and Miss Bloxam in the carriage. When he is not to be
found, I shall volunteer to take his place, leaving him to follow and
take mine in the break; and shall take care that the fact of his being
left dancing with you does not escape Lady Mary's attention."
"Go across and tell Mr. Beauchamp I want him," said Sylla. "I'll take
care he is out of the way when wanted."
This little conspiracy was crowned with success; and when the carriage
was announced, Lionel Beauchamp was nowhere to be seen.
"It's nonsense waiting for him, Lady Mary," said Mr. Cottrell. "As
Miss Bloxam is not dancing, you had better be off at once; I will come
with you, and Beauchamp can take my place in the break. What has
become of him and Sylla Chipchase, goodness only knows!"
There was nothing for it but to submit to circumstances; and, with a
feeling of no little asperity towards that "flirting Suffolk girl,"
Lady Mary drove home to Todborough.