The Determined Bachelor (6 page)

“My
complacency!
” No words could describe the look of ill-usage upon Sir Basil's face upon hearing this estimation of himself. His cheeks were drained of colour, the tips of his ears turned crimson, and his nostrils, which were extremely elegant and fine, were quivering slightly. Lady Diana could barely suppress the urge to laugh.

“My complacency, Diana!” repeated Sir Basil, with a wounded look. “Is this you? The same friend who has professed to admire my conduct these many years? I hope you are not forgetting, in your present mood, that my career had been marked precisely by proof of my willingness to
compromise, to sacrifice, to give place in any matter for the greater benefit of my country and my King!”

Lady Diana was occupied in twiddling a ribbon on her shawl. A shadow falling across her cheek hid her smile.

“I make no doubt of it, Basil,” replied she softly. “But do such compromises as you speak of take any real toll of your life? When you have just done giving up some piece of land in favour of a more lenient policy between Britain and France, does the sacrifice follow you to bed? Are your days and nights affected by the work? Are you forced to regard the happiness and health of the French Foreign Minister as dearer than your own? Do you worry if he grows aguish or takes a chill? Are his joys your joys and his sorrows your sorrows?”

Sir Basil stared back, disbelieving his ears. “Don't be foolish, Diana. Of course not.”

For some reason the Ambassador could not make out, Lady Cardovan looked triumphant at this admission.

“Aha!” cried she. “But it is these very things which you should be forced to concern yourself about, had you the custody of a child. You are beginning, my dear friend—if I may speak frankly—to grow into a perpetual bachelor. You are five and thirty, and I suppose shall never marry, since you seem to regard all women as superfluous creations of the Lord. Take care, my friend, that you don't lose your humanity whilst you are governing the destiny of the human race.”

Lady Diana had spoken softly, but with force. Her words, if they had been strong, had come from the bottom of her heart and from a real desire to see this man, whom she had always admired, remain admirable. She watched him now, standing before the mantle, determined to avoid her eyes, and immersed in a perusal of a little painted bird. The room was quiet save for the distant ticking of the clock at the other end of the room. That quiet, the thin stream of sunshine lying across the Turkish carpet, the inaudible rustling of the trees and shrubberies beyond the French windows, began to have an insufferable effect upon the Baronet. It was one of those moments—very rare in Sir Basil's life—when he felt the world had suddenly changed without his noticing. All at once his customary confidence in his actions and beliefs was disturbed. Could it be that Lady Cardovan was right? Could it be that he had really grown stiff and rigid in the past few years? She was condemning him
every moment with those glowing, intelligent eyes, which seemed to look quite through him in a damnably intimate and knowing way, quite unlike the gaze of any man. He felt an odd prickling sensation run up his spine, and felt suddenly clumsy. The little bird in his hand nearly escaped his fingers. In vain did he attempt to summon up the arguments which had just been on the tip of his tongue. She was only a woman—superior, it is true, to any other of his acquaintance—yet still, only a woman. What right had she to upbraid him thus? Did not the everyday actions of his life affect the course of the whole civilized world? Did not he accomplish his aims in a way both universally admired and morally (according to his own and HRH's lights) in accordance with the high standards of British foreign policy? Ought he, a celebrated diplomatist, to be put in a state of schoolboy panic by these accusations?

“Oh, Lord,” he murmured at last, “I was so sure this would be such an easy matter to dispatch!”

Lady Diana smiled. “
Dear
Basil!”

“Well, then, how ought we to begin? You shall help me?” There was a look of mingled resignation and terror on the Baronet's face.

Lady Diana rose and, stretching out her hand, went toward him. “Of course I shall. You ought first to have a governess. I shall undertake to procure one.”

Sir Basil looked shocked. “Good God! I suppose you are right! Thank you, Diana,” he said humbly. “Is there—I mean to say, is there anything else I ought to do?”

“It wouldn't,” she said thoughtfully, “do any harm if you could stay in England for a month or two. I suppose that is quite out of the question?”

Sir Basil felt the reins slowly slipping out of his hands. In a resigned voice, he replied, “It might be possible. This is as good a time as any to be away. The King won't budge on the question of abolishing the slave trade. It might actually persuade him a little to our side if I were to remove myself for a short time, and give him a jolt.”

“Perfect!” Lady Diana was now all bustling business. “Well then, I think you should take a house for the Season—or in any case a month or two,” she corrected herself, upon seeing him beginning to look stubborn. “A month or two should suffice to make our little Nicole feel at ease with her new papa. You ought to get accustomed to the idea
sometime
, you know. In the meantime, I shall begin at once to find you the
best governess in England, who shall not feel incommoded by changing her residence, and who shall, if we have any luck at all, be fluent in eight or nine tongues so that you may move from Embassy to Embassy as you please.”

“It all sounds,” said Sir Basil, in a rather dubious voice, “quite delightful and easy.”

Lady Diana only smiled brightly and said nothing.

Chapter IV

The business of procuring a governess proved more difficult than Lady Cardovan had imagined. A week after her interview with Sir Basil, she was so much depressed by the stream of Miss Browns and Miss Smiths who had stood in line at her door nearly the instant her advertisement was sent in to the
Courier
, that she began to think it was impossible to find a decent governess. They were all admirably fitted up with recommendations, which struck her as nearly as much alike as their faces, manners, and clothing. Not a cheerful face was amongst them—they were a gaggle of dour old shrews, and endowed, besides, with an overwhelming snobbery, cultivated at the various Schools for Young Ladies which they had all attended. Was not there a fresh young person to be found, a governess who would neither frighten off a little girl nor teach her to hate life and learning with an equal passion? Lady Cardovan had herself been taught by a wonderful young woman, sensible, kind, and herself exhilarated by knowledge: It was just such a young lady whom she now sought, but like a barrel of apples that has sat too long in the hot sun, she thought there was not a fresh one among them.

Sir Basil, besides, was daily calling upon her with urgency. Where was the promised governess? He had taken a house in Regent's Terrace, admirably fitted up with a schoolroom and every other amenity. Miss Lessington was still in the custody of the orphanage and must be brought to London at once. Exasperated, Lady Cardovan tried to put him off, but with little success. And just when she had herself begun to give up all hope, a young woman appeared at her door who seemed to fit every qualification. On the tenth day following the beginning
of her search, a Miss Anne Calder took her place on the little sofa where Lady Cardovan was used to interviewing the prospective governesses. Though seeming to answer none of the usual qualifications of her trade, she was modest, intelligent, and amiable. Lady Diana might have said she was much more than that, might indeed have called her charming: but whatever the case, she took an instant liking to the young woman. It may be said that Miss Calder was equally enthusiastic in her reactions to the Countess.

The interview commenced like all the others. Experience, place of birth, family, and references were inquired into. Miss Calder replied with a delightful ingenuity, seemingly unaware of how different she was from the rank and file of her kind. Her father was a clergyman in Devonshire, she was the second eldest of nine children, four of whom she had tutored until they were sent away to school. Her family had resided for some time in Devonshire, and were a very respectable kind of people—by which Lady Cardovan understood, genteel but rather short of pocket. And no wonder, with nine children, four of them daughters! Miss Calder hinted, without saying it out loud, that she was much depended upon to find a favourable situation.

“But you have never been a governess before?” inquired Lady Diana.

Miss Calder looked nervous. She was a very handsome girl, tall without being strapping, with a natural elegance about her features and carriage. Her manner was as unlike that of a governess as her clothes—she was dressed in a pretty muslin frock and had a coloured ribbon in her auburn waves. She seemed unaware that the general demeanor of a governess was meant to be self-effacing and prudish. Her own manner was direct, her gaze frank, and a hint of humour in her voice and eyes appealed at once to her interviewer.

“No,” she replied, evidently ashamed of the fact, “I have not. But I believe I have had so much experience with children. Your Ladyship——”

“Yes, yes—don't bother to explain. You are certainly better qualified than some women who have spent all their lives tutoring children. You are fond of little girls?”

“Very. And of little boys. So long as they behave themselves and work hard. I believe learning ought to be fun, don't you?”

“Absolutely!” Lady Cardovan was delighted.

“I am a great reader, your ladyship, and what I cannot do
myself, I am still capable of teaching. Music and drawing are not my own forte, but I know enough to say when something is well done, and when it is not, and to teach the basic principles, even if I cannot apply them with much expertise.”

What a difference there was here from the women who had filled Lady Diana's ears with their accomplishments!

“And what
is
your forte?” demanded she.

Miss Calder seemed to flush. “Literature, Your Ladyship. Also history and geography.”

“Do you read much history?” demanded Her Ladyship keenly.

“Do you mean, have I read your books? Yes, I am a great admirer of yours, but hesitated to say so at once——”

“Never mind, my dear! Save your praise, I beg of you. You need not say you like them.”

“Oh, but I do!” exclaimed Miss Calder very warmly. “I like them immensely! They are so very much alive, and quite unlike any other histories I have read, which are often dry, factual, and unadorned by even the slightest attempt at a lively style!”

Lady Cardovan could scarcely help responding to such warmth and ingenuous enthusiasm. She smiled.

“I am very flattered, Miss Calder. What else do you read?”

“Well,” Miss Calder thought a moment. “I have been reading since I was a child. In general, I have read everything I could get hold of, indiscriminately. I probably should not admit it—but how is one to know what is good and what is not, if one has not some knowledge of
both?
”

Lady Cardovan, smiling, expressed her agreement. A further interrogation rendered up the knowledge that Miss Calder had certain strong opinions. One of these, it appeared, was a hearty dislike of romances. Another was (or seemed to be) a disdain for marriage.

The idea had first crossed Lady Cardovan's mind when she glimpsed Miss Calder, that she would have been far better off well married than well employed: so much easy grace, beauty, and education might have been much prized by any gentleman. But a delicate inquiry into the matter, for Miss Calder had given her age as seven and twenty, brought forth the following:

“Oh! I hope you are not going to tell me I had better find a husband, Your Ladyship! Am I so undesirable as a governess?”

“Not at all! I only thought you might be even more desirable as a wife!”

Miss Calder flushed, but only for an instant. Then she looked her companion directly in the eye, and said, “I have had some opportunities to marry, Your Ladyship. But I had rather not.”

“Even if it means taking up a post which is hardly better than a servant's?”

“I have observed wives who are hardly better than servants.”

Lady Cardovan could not suppress her smiles. How keen was this young woman!

“Nevertheless, you shall have to answer to someone at all times. A gentleman, I might add, so little used to dealing with females that he is often perfectly impossible.”

“The gentleman you mean is Sir Basil Ives?”

“Yes, our Ambassador to France. He has just been relegated the guardianship of a child.”

Miss Calder inquired into the situation, and was soon in possession of as many facts as Lady Cardovan was herself, besides a smattering of hints:

“I should tell you before you agree to take the post, Miss Calder, that Sir Basil may not be the easiest employer to deal with. He has been a bachelor all his life—is what one might almost call a
determined
bachelor: and determined, likewise, to dislike women upon principle. He has made an exception of
me
—sometimes I do not know whether to take it as a compliment or an insult. However that may be, he is still one of our kingdom's most distinguished subjects, a gentleman in every meaning of the word, and if sometimes a trifle overriding in his convictions, must be respected and admired for what he has done for England. He is, besides, a very dear friend of mine.