The Guinea Stamp (14 page)

“But to be wholly sane,” replied Joanna, with a twinkle.

Kitty sighed. “I wish I could be more like you,” she said, ruefully. “You always seem to know just how to act, and what to think!”

Joanna laughed softly. “You make me sound odious, Kit! What an impossible creature I must be, if this were true!”

“Isn’t it?”

Joanna shook her head. “There have been occasions when—I have acted most unwisely,” she said, slowly, “when I have certainly not followed the dictates of good sense.”

“I am delighted to hear it!” said the irrepressible Kitty. “I should never have guessed such a thing was possible! But when, my dear Jo, and where? Do, pray, tell me the whole!”

“Not now—it’s too late,” said Joanna, quickly. “In any case, there’s little to relate. But you know, Kitty,” she went on, ingeniously, “I could wish that I knew just how to think and act on the morrow! You may not realize it, my love, but the thought of Mr. Cholcombe’s arrival puts me in a certain flutter of spirits!”

“Of course,” said Kitty, with ready sympathy. “I am a brute! I have been so full of my own troubles, that I was forgetting what an ordeal that meeting must be for you. Do you suppose that he will make a formal offer at once?”

“I trust not,” said Joanna, alarmed at this suggestion of unseemly haste. “I had imagined that he would allow a little time to elapse: it would certainly be more proper.”

Kitty nodded thoughtfully. “Don’t worry, dearest Jo,” she said, at last. “I dares ay that, as usual, you will know just how to act—but, if not, you may count on me!”

Joanna might be pardoned for reflecting that she could expect little help from one so palpably unable to manage her own affairs successfully: but she merely thanked Kitty affectionately, begged her not to tease Mr. Dorlais on the morrow, and bade her good night. She retired to her own room, taking a feeling of unease as a bedfellow.

TEN - Arrival of Mr. Cholcombe

The party at Shalbeare House was sitting in a salon on the ground floor on the following afternoon, trying to decide whether it was worth leaving the leaping fire on the hearth for the attractions of a windy walk among the dead leaves in the shrubbery. It was one of those cold, grey days for which November is justly famed, when even to the enthusiast, the out of doors can hold little appeal. While the opposing merits were being debated with as much animation as could be expected after an excellent luncheon, the sound of a carriage approaching the house drew everyone present to the window.

A vehicle was observed coming up the drive, and presently four handsome bay horses swept round the bend before the entrance, bringing to a standstill the elegant carriage to which they were harnessed. Scarcely had the coachman drawn rein, before a second vehicle arrived, this one piled high with luggage.

A servant jumped down from the first carriage, and opened the door with its crested panels. The figure of a gentleman emerged, wearing a curly brimmed beaver, a dark blue riding coat ornamented with exactly the right number of capes, and a pair of shining, tasselled Hessians. With one gloved hand, he anchored the beaver firmly on to his head as he stepped from the coach, and, pausing only for a brief word with the man who had now emerged from the second vehicle, mounted the steps to the door of the house.

Miss Feniton quickly withdrew from the window, her heart beating a trifle faster than usual. Kitty threw her a sympathetic look, and edged near enough to squeeze her hand surreptitiously.

“This will be Algernon Cholcombe!” exclaimed Lady Feniton. “Did ever you see so many traps? I am aware that he has a certain reputation as a dandy, but surely he must be persuaded that he is to be staying with us for no less than six months!”

“I only wish he will stay long enough for his man to confide to mine the secret of that blacking,” muttered Guy Dorlais, ruefully.

“I think nothing of dandies, for my part!” cried Miss Masterman, with a toss of her golden head. “I am always telling my brother that nothing so much becomes a man as military uniform; and there is nothing dandified in that, you know,” she added, looking coyly at Guy.

Miss Lodge glanced quickly at her betrothed, half mocking, half serious: unwittingly, Georgina Masterman had said quite the wrong thing to please that gentleman.

“My dear Miss Masterman, I am sure we are all delighted to have your opinion,” said Lady Feniton, in her most repressive voice. “However, it may not be quite the last word on the subject.”

Miss Masterman subsided, and in response to a glance from her brother, said humbly that she was very sorry if she had given offence to anyone present.

“Not at all,” replied her hostess. “No one here, I hope, is so foolish as to take umbrage at idle chatter.”

By this time, Joanna was almost beginning to feel sorry for Georgina, and would have intervened with some softly spoken word: but at that precise moment, a footman announced the Honourable Algernon Cholcombe.

Mr. Cholcombe came forward into the room, and made a graceful, finicking bow to the assembled company. He offered his hand to Lady Feniton.

“How d’ye do, ma’am? It is many years since I had this pleasure.”

His voice was pleasant, thought Joanna, clear and mellow, with just the right amount of fashionable drawl. She took note of his attire, and approved the well-cut coat of dark green superfine and the waistcoat of quilted white Marcella, but she was uncertain whether the pantaloons of yellow kerseymere were in quite such good taste. Mr. Dorlais and Captain Masterman could have assured her, however, that these were all the crack in Town. The latter gentleman was also admiring the fall of Mr. Cholcombe’s spotless cravat: he had a particular reason for closely observing the newcomer. Evidently this man favoured the tasteful, elegant style of Beau Brummel, rather than the colourful eccentricities of the more ostentatious dandy. It was a point in his favour, Masterman grudgingly admitted.

The man himself was in no way remarkable, the Captain went on to reflect. True, Mr. Cholcombe’s light brown hair was cut in the prevailing Roman style, and his features were pleasing; but no one could truthfully assert that he was an Adonis. His only claim to notice lay in his superb tailoring, and possibly in the natural grace of his movements. He was bowing to Miss Feniton at that moment, and his bow, thought Captain Masterman bitterly, was a triumph of the art of courtesy.

The confusion of Joanna’s feelings may be readily imagined. It caused her manner to become even more stiff than usual. After one quick glance into his face, she had lowered her eyes, and they remained steadfastly fixed upon the carpet during the very short time when she and the new guest were in conversation together. He had soon turned away to be introduced by his hostess to the other members of the party. On seeing Guy Dorlais, he exclaimed in delight.

“Ah, Dorlais! How splendid to meet you again! Do you recollect the theatricals at Trelawney’s place? ‘Pon my word, you made an excellent Benjamin Backbite—I declare we all felt uncommon nervous of you, afterwards!”

Joanna, watching Guy’s expression closely for some reason that she could not quite define, noticed a guard come over it.

“You are very good,” he replied. “But I fear we were all outshone by your own performance on that occasion! Have you seen Trelawney lately, by the by? I believe I owe him a letter.”

She paid scant attention to the reply. The worst moment—that of meeting Mr. Cholcombe—was now over, and she could let matters take their course. She manoeuvred into position beside Kitty on the sofa.

“What do you think of him?” Kitty whispered.

“How can I possibly say as yet?” replied Joanna, with one eye on her grandmother.

“You do not mind if I say this, Jo,” whispered back Kitty, in an apologetic tone, “but I do not consider him as handsome as Guy!”

“Perhaps not.” Joanna considered Algernon Cholcombe dispassionately. He was at present chatting to Sir Walter, an animated expression on his mobile face. “It is a pleasant countenance, however; I fancy there is good humour and sensitivity in it. He carries himself well, and his address is good: so far, there is nothing to complain of.”

“Oh, Jo!” exclaimed her friend, in deep disappointment. “It does not sound as though you are become a victim to love at first sight!”

Joanna shook her head, laughing, and, in response to a signal from her grandmother, moved away to another part of the room to join in the conversation there.

Her first opportunity to become better acquainted with Mr. Cholcombe came over dinner. He had the place of honour, next to Lady Feniton and Joanna was seated upon his other side. He soon proved himself an entertaining companion: she had not been wrong in detecting a sense of humour in his face. Lady Feniton had done full justice to the appetites of her guests. An excellent turtle soup was followed by turbot with lobster sauce; when this was removed, boiled fowls, a saddle of mutton and an enormous game pie were carried in by the footmen.

“I am irresistibly reminded,” said Mr. Cholcombe in a low tone to Joanna, “of another occasion when I was regaled with game pie at Shalbeare House.”

“You mean—” she asked, uncertainly.

His eyes smiled down into hers. “You cannot have forgotten—although perhaps you might, for you were very young at the time—scarcely more than a babe in arms!”

“If you mean the occasion when I carried a piece of pie from the table, requiring Nurse to take it to you, when you were in disgrace,” she said, “I was all of five years old, let me tell you!”

“Were you so?” He pretended to be impressed, twinkling at her. “I had thought you the merest babe, and rated your exploit the more highly on that account.”

“It was a little daring of me,” said Joanna, reminiscently. “But then, I felt your punishment to be totally undeserved!”

“Do you know,” he said, laughing. “I’ve quite forgotten the fault for which I was punished? At this distance in time, I can only remember my indignation and your compassion—and how good that pie tasted, after a long fast!”

“It was about your name,” explained Joanna. “My grandmother—”

“Oh, yes, I recollect now!” he interposed, swiftly. “She insisted upon dubbing me Algernon—I see it still sticks!”

“Yes,” said Joanna, doubtfully. “It is not your name, then?”

“On the contrary. It is one of the many names which my parents saw fit to bestow upon me. Algernon is my first name; my mother particularly fancied it, because, so she said, she found it so very English. She is French, as you most likely know,” he added, in explanation.

“Yes, I was aware of the fact,” replied Joanna, uncertain how to proceed. She recollected having been told by her grandmother how Lord Cholcombe had many years ago created quite a stir in London society by his marriage to a French actress.

“However, my mother never called me by it,” proceeded Mr. Cholcombe. “She found it almost impossible to pronounce with a sufficiently English accent. On the few occasions when I have heard her make the attempt, the result was something like this—” and he produced a laughably Gallic version of the name.

His eyes lit up as he listened to Miss Feniton’s rare laughter. Joanna was on the verge of asking him by what name his mother was used to call him, but she suppressed the question, fearing it might sound too pert and inquisitive at this early stage of their acquaintance.

“One can scarcely blame you for objecting to be called by a name other than the one to which you were accustomed,” she said.

“You did not, at any rate! I was never more in need of a tender heart, either, for my appetite at that time was something prodigious!”

“In that you are changed, evidently,” she remarked, watching him wave away the gooseberry tart.

“Not at all! It is merely that I have a rooted dislike of gooseberries,” he answered. “Now, when I am asked to partake of that seductive looking dish of peaches over there, you will observe that it is quite another matter.”

“Did I hear you say peaches, Algernon?” put in Lady Feniton, who had noticed his rejection of the one dish, and was anxious to ply him with another. “William—”

Miss Feniton raised her eyes at Lady Feniton’s words, and in so doing, managed to intercept a glance which passed from Guy Dorlais, who sat at the opposite side of the table, to Mr. Cholcombe. It was full of mockery. She told herself, surprised, that there must surely exist a greater degree of intimacy between the two gentlemen than she had at first supposed, or than Guy had given Kitty and herself to understand.

“And how do you occupy yourself throughout the long winter months, Miss Feniton?” asked Mr. Cholcombe, having been helped to the fruit. “Do you have many private balls hereabouts, or must you rely solely upon the Assemblies at Totnes or Exeter?”

“It is but seldom that we venture as far as Exeter, sir, at this time of year. We dine with a number of families in the county, but, truth to tell, seldom enjoy any dancing. Our chief employments in company are music, cards and conversation.”

“And which of these employments do you prefer?” he asked, smiling down at her.

“It is difficult to say,” answered Joanna, wrinkling her brow. “I am neither a gifted singer nor instrumentalist, and I play but an indifferent game of cards. I suppose, therefore, that my choice must rest with conversation.”

“ ‘Pon my word, madam,” he said, “I find you very modest! I fear you can scarcely be doing yourself justice. Since you will have it that you are not gifted in music, I take it that you must be most accomplished at drawing and painting?”

Joanna shook her head, smiling.

“What?” he raised his quizzing glass, and affected to study her through it. “Not even painting, my dear young lady?”

Again she shook her head, amused at his manner.

“I fear not,” she answered, gravely.

He let the glass drop, and surveyed her sadly. “Miss Feniton,” he said, in mournful accents, “I fear I must positively decline to know you. It will not do at all.”

She started a little, for she was unused to raillery from anyone on so short an acquaintance. Then she began to laugh softly.

“You may laugh, ma’am, but I assure you that I am in deadly earnest. What, not even one single accomplishment? When I am informed on all sides that all young ladies nowadays are highly accomplished in every one of the arts? Indeed, it will not do, madam: you must see that my credit in the world would suffer, were I to prolong our acquaintance!”

“I am very sorry for it,” she answered, still laughing. “But I cannot help the way I am made. However, if you should be interested in painting, my grandfather has an excellent seascape hanging in his library, which I’m sure he would be delighted to show you after dinner.”

“Indeed? I must remember to ask him, later. But at present, I am far more interested in learning the reason for your having managed successfully to avoid becoming an accomplished young lady. Pray, how did you do it, ma’am?”

“Well, really, I don’t know how it is,” replied Joanna. “I was certainly offered every advantage, and had all the best masters. Perhaps I am more than common stupid.”

“No, I cannot allow that.” He sipped his wine thoughtfully. “I believe it is that you are unduly modest,” he said, with the air of one making a discovery. “However, I shall very soon have an opportunity of judging your performance in some of these arts for myself. I will give you my considered opinion of your talents later on in my visit, I promise you.”