Regency Buck (26 page)

“Softly, my child: I thought neither of these things,” said his lordship, slightly amused. “My experience of you led me instead to suppose that you had sent your suitor to me in a spirit of pure mischief. Was that an injustice too?”

Miss Taverner was a little mollified, but said stiffly: “Yes, it was, sir. The Duke of Clarence would not believe I meant what I said, and the best I could think of was for you to help me. I made sure you would refuse your consent!”

“I did,” said the Earl, taking snuff.

“Then why,” demanded Miss Taverner, relieved, “did you say you wished me joy?”

“Merely to alarm you, Clorinda, and to teach you not to play tricks on me.”

“It was no trick, and you are abominable!”

“I humbly beg your forgiveness.”

She flashed an indignant look at him, and set her empty glass down on the table with a snap. The Earl offered her his snuff-box. “Will you try this mixture? I find it tolerably soothing to the nerves.”

Miss Taverner relented. “I am very sensible of what an honour
that
is,” she said, helping herself to an infinitesimal pinch. “I suppose you could do no more.”

“Not while I continue to occupy the post of guardian,” he agreed.

She lowered her gaze, and said in a hurry: “Did the Duke mention his plan of inviting me (and you too) to Bushey for Christmas?”

“He did,” said the Earl. “But I informed him that you would be spending Christmas at Worth.”

Miss Taverner drew in her breath sharply, inhaled far more of his lordship’s snuff than she had meant to, and sneezed. “But I am not!” she said.

“I am sorry if it should be repugnant to you, but you are certainly spending Christmas at Worth,” he replied.

“It is not repugnant, precisely, but—”

“You relieve my mind of a weight,” said his lordship satirically. “I was afraid it might be.”

“It is very obliging of you, but since you have refused your consent to the Duke’s paying his addresses to me he cannot now expect me to make one of his party. I should prefer to spend Christmas with Perry.”

“Naturally,” said the Earl. “I was not proposing that you should come to Worth without him.”

“But Perry has no notion of going to Worth!” protested Miss Taverner. “I daresay he has quite different plans in his mind!”

“Then he will put them out of his mind,” replied the Earl. “I prefer to keep Perry under my eye.”

He offered his arm, and after a slight hesitation she rose, and laid her hand on it, and allowed him to lead her back into the ballroom. It had occurred to her that she was by no means averse to going on a visit to Worth.

Chapter XIV

It was fortunate for Miss Taverner that, by reason of Christmas being at hand, she must soon be removed from the Duke of Clarence’s neighbourhood. He by no means despaired of winning her, and though momentarily cast-down, and inclined to be indignant at Worth’s refusing his consent, he was very soon consoling himself with the reflection that Miss Taverner would be free in less than a year from the Earl’s guardianship. He was sanguine, and, calling in Brook Street again, assured Judith that when she came to know him better she would perceive all the advantages of the match as clearly as he did himself.

Peregrine’s feelings upon being informed that he was to go to Worth were not at all complacent. He asserted that he should not go, thought it a great imposition, suspected the Earl of trying to fix his interest with Judith, and had a very good mind to write a curt refusal. However, the intelligence that Miss Fairford had received a most distinguishing invitation from Lady Albinia Forrest, the Earl’s maternal aunt, to make one of the party, quite put an end to his ill-humour. The Earl became immediately a very good sort of a fellow, and from having been disconsolately expecting a party insipid beyond everything, he was brought to look forward to it with no common degree of pleasure.

Judith also looked forward to it in the expectation of considerable enjoyment. She had an ambition to see Worth, which Mrs. Scattergood had described to her in the most eulogistic terms; the party was to be select, comprised for the most part of her most particular friends; and her only regret was that the greatest of her friends, Mr. Bernard Taverner, was not to be present. When she told him of the invitation and saw him look sadly out of countenance, she said impulsively that she wished he might be going with them. He smiled, but shook his head. “The Earl of Worth would never invite me to join any party of which you were a member,” he said. “There is no love lost between us.”

“No love lost!” she exclaimed. “I had thought you barely acquainted with him. How is this?”

“The Earl of Worth,” he said deliberately, “has been good enough to warn me against making your well-being my concern. He does me the honour of thinking me to stand in his way. What will be the issue I do not know. If he is to be believed, I stand in some danger of being put out of his way.” He gave a little laugh. “The Earl of Worth does not like to have his path crossed.”

She was staring at him in great astonishment. “This is beyond everything, upon my word! You cannot, I am persuaded, have properly understood him! Why should he threaten you? When have you met? Where did this conversation take place?”

“It took place,” said Mr. Taverner, “in a certain tavern known as Cribb’s Parlour, upon the day that Perry went out to fight Farnaby. I found his lordship there in close conversation with Farnaby himself.”

“With Farnaby! Good God! what can you mean?”

He took a short turn about the room. “I do not know. I wish that I did. It was not my intention to speak of this to you, but lately I have thought that his lordship has been making headway with you. However little I may relish the office of informer, it is only right that you should be put upon your guard. What Worth’s business with Farnaby may have been I have no means of knowing. It must be all conjecture. To see them with their heads together was to me something of a shock, I own. I impute nothing; I merely tell you what I saw. The Earl, perceiving me, came across the room to my side; what passed between us I shall not repeat. It was enough to assure me that Worth regards me as a menace to whatever scheme he may have in mind. I was warned not to meddle in your concerns. Whether I am very likely to be intimidated by such a threat I leave it to yourself to decide.”

She was silent for a moment, frowning over it. She could not but perceive that there might be some jealousy at work here, on both sides perhaps. She said presently in a tone of calm good sense: “It is very odd, indeed, but I must believe you to be mistaken, in part at least. Lord Worth, being Perry’s guardian, may easily have conceived it to be his duty to inquire more fully into the cause of that projected meeting.”

He looked at her intently. “It may have been so, yet I shall not conceal from you, Judith, that I neither like nor trust that man.” She made a gesture as though to silence him. “You do not wish me to speak. Perhaps I should not; perhaps I am wrong. I will only beg of you to take care how you put yourself in his power.”

She returned his look a little sternly, but as though pulling over what he had said. “Lord Worth told me to trust him,” she said slowly.

“That is easily said. I do not tell you to trust me. Mistrust me, if you please: I shall continue to do what I can to serve you.”

His frank, manly way of speaking induced her to stretch out her hand to him. “Why, of course I trust you, cousin,” she said, “even though I think you are mistaken.”

He kissed her hand, and said no more, but left her very soon to ponder over it, to recall incidents, words, that might guide her understanding. Lately, it had seemed to her as though Worth too might become a suitor to her hand, yet no man had it in his power to compel her into marriage, and she could see no reason for fearing him. Her cousin she believed to be strongly attached to her, and allowance must be made for the very natural jealousy of a man deeply in love. Neither man could like the other: it had been apparent from the first. She supposed each must find it easy to mistrust the other. She put the matter out of mind, yet was still worried by it.

A few days would now bring Christmas upon them; the Taverners, accompanied by Mrs. Scattergood and Miss Fairford, were to travel into Hampshire, to Worth, upon the twenty-third of December, and every moment before their departure seemed to Miss Taverner to be occupied in writing graceful notes of acknowledgment for the shower of gifts that descended upon her. The most elegant trifles were sent for her acceptance: she was in despair, half-inclined to return them all, but dissuaded from it by her chaperon, who inspected each offering with the strictest regard for propriety, and pronounced all to be in the best of taste, quite unexceptionable, impossible to decline!

Amongst the collection of snuff-boxes, etuis, china figures, and fans that arrived for his sister, the tokens Peregrine had received made, he complained, a meagre show. Some handkerchiefs, hemmed for him by Lady Fairford, a brace of partridges from Sussex, where Mr. Fitzjohn had retired for the month, a locket with his Harriet’s eye painted on ivory, a small jar of snuff from which the sender’s card was missing, and a fob from his cousin made up the sum of his presents. However, he was in raptures over the locket, and very well satisfied with the rest. The handkerchiefs must always be useful; the birds could be roasted for dinner; the fob was added to his already large collection; and the snuff was no doubt a capital mixture. Like a great many other young gentlemen, Peregrine never stirred out without his box, and inhaled a vast quantity of snuff without having very much taste for it, or discrimination in the sorts he chose. Brown rappee was the same to him as Spanish bran; he could detect very little difference. As for this elegant, glazed jar which had been sent him he liked it excessively, and only wished he might know the donor. A prolonged search amongst the litter of cards, notes, and silver-paper wrappings which surrounded his sister failed to discover the missing card; he had to resign himself to its being lost.

Judith took a pinch of his snuff, and wrinkled her nose at it. “My dear Perry, it reeks of Otto of Roses! It is detestable!”

“Pho, nonsense, you are a great deal too nice! Since you took to using snuff you think you know everything about it.”

“I know this mixture would never be tolerated by Lord Petersham, or Worth,” she retorted. “It is not at all unlike the sort Worth has made up for the Regent, only more scented. Do not be offering it to him, I beg of you! Who can have sent it to you? How awkward it is that you have lost the card!”

“I believe there never was a card. I believe it must have been forgotten. If you do not like the mixture I am glad, for you won’t be wanting to fill your box from my jar.”

“No, indeed! I imagine no one would suspect
me
of taking scented snuff,” retorted Judith.

The day of setting forward on the journey arrived at last. The trunks and the bandboxes were safely strapped to the chaise: Mrs. Scattergood predicted a fall of snow; Peregrine mounted his horse; Miss Fairford was picked up in Arlington Street; and the whole party started on the journey not more than an hour later than had originally been intended.

No fall of snow occurred to render the roads impassable; the weather, though wintry, was not cold enough to make travelling insupportable; and with only one halt of any length upon the way they arrived at Worth by four in the afternoon, to be welcomed with all the comfort of large fires, hot soup, and cheerful company.

It was dusk when they turned in at the iron gates of Worth, and no impression of the park, or the exterior of the house could be had; but the interior struck Miss Taverner at once with a sense of its elegance, noble apartments, and handsome furnishings. It was just what a gentleman’s residence should be; everything spoke its owner’s taste. Judith could not but be pleased with all that she saw, and wish to explore further, at a more convenient time, into the older part of the house, which she understood to date back as much as two centuries.

Lady Albinia was there to receive the travellers. She was a short-sighted, vague woman of no particular beauty, and a total disregard for the prevailing fashion. A Paisley shawl, which she wore to protect her from the draughts, was continually slipping from her shoulders and becoming entangled in the furniture. When this happened she immediately summoned up any gentleman who chanced to be near, and commanded him to disengage her tiresome fringe. She seemed incapable of helping herself, and when she dropped her fan or her handkerchief, as she frequently did, merely waited for someone to pick it up for her, breaking off in the middle of whatever she was saying, and resuming again the instant her property was restored to her. She had a habit of uttering her thoughts aloud, which was disconcerting to those not much acquainted with her, but which no one who knew her paid the least attention to. She greeted the Taverners kindly, and having led the ladies to the fire, and begged them to sit down by it and warm their chilled hands, looked Judith over with an expression of mild approval, and said in her inconsequent way: “Such bad weather for travelling, though to be sure it does not snow, and the roads nowadays are so good that one is hardly ever in danger of being held up. Eighty thousand pounds, and quite a beauty besides! Worth is fortunate indeed, if only he may have the sense to realize it.”

Miss Taverner, who had been warned by Mrs. Scattergood what to expect, tried to look unconscious, but could not prevent a blush creeping into her cheeks. Mrs. Scattergood said severely: “Albinia, where is Julian?”

It appeared that the gentlemen had gone out for a day’s shooting, and were not yet returned. The travellers were escorted upstairs to their bedchambers, and left to recover from the fatigues of the journey before dressing for dinner.

By dinner-time the rest of the party had arrived, and the sporting gentlemen returned from their expedition. The remaining guests comprised Lords Petersham and Alvanley, Mr. Brummell, and Mr. Forrest, Lady Albinia’s taciturn spouse, and Mrs. and Miss Marley, particular friends of Miss Taverner. Everyone was acquainted; nothing, Mrs. Scattergood declared, could have been more charming. Lord Alvanley, except for his habit of putting out his bedroom candle by stuffing it under his pillow, must always be an acceptable guest; Lord Petersham, the most finished gentleman alive, was courteous and amiable; the Earl was a calm but attentive host; Mr. Brummell was in a conversable mood, and a pleasant evening was spent in one of the saloons, playing cards, drinking tea, and chatting over a noble fire. The only discomfort Judith had to endure was the sight of her brother begging Lord Petersham to give an opinion on his new snuff, the whole history of which he had been recounting a moment previous. Lord Petersham was obliging enough to help himself to a pinch, and to say courteously that he had no doubt of its being a superior mixture. Lord Worth, less polite, put up his glass when the box was offered to him, and upon hearing that it was highly scented waved it away. “No, thank you, Peregrine. I will believe it to be all you say. I hope you are not using it, Miss Taverner?”