Author: Georgette Heyer
Category: Historical
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Lady Buxted, in whose breast her defeat at his hands still rankled, bade him a cold good-morning, and added that she had not the least guess what could have brought him to visit her.
His groom having run to the horses’ heads, Alverstoke flung off the rug that covered his legs, and descended lightly from the curricle, saying: ‘How should you?’ He looked her over critically. ‘Accept my compliments! that’s a good rig, and I like your neck-ruff.’
Lady Buxted might deplore her frivolous brother’s à la modality, but she could not help preening herself a little. It was not often that her taste won his approbation. She touched the little ruff of goffered lawn which supported her chin, and said: ‘My fraise, do you mean? I’m indeed flattered to meet with your approval, Alverstoke!’
He nodded, as though he took this for granted, but addressed himself to his nieces. ‘You two – Jane, and – Maria, is it? – wait for your mother in the carriage! I shan’t keep her many minutes.’
Lady Buxted, by no means relishing this cavalier treatment of her daughters, was torn between a desire to send her brother about his business, and a rampant curiosity. Curiosity won; and she turned to go back into the house, saying, however, that five minutes were all she could spare. He vouchsafed no response, but followed her up the steps, and into the dining-room. Lady Buxted did not invite him to sit down. ‘Well, what is it?’ she asked. ‘I have a great deal of shopping to do, and –’
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‘More, even, than you bargained for, I daresay,’ he interrupted. ‘Take that eldest girl of yours to your dressmaker, and tell her to make a ball-dress for her! And, for the lord’s sake, Louisa, don’t let it be white, or pale blue, or pink! She’s as bran-faced as ever she was, and the only thing for it is to rig her out in amber, or jonquil, or straw!’
The unexpected hope which this command rekindled in Lady Buxted’s breast made it easy for her to overlook the animadversion on Miss Buxted’s freckles. Surprise almost took her breath away, but she managed to utter: ‘Alverstoke! Do you mean – can you mean – that you will give a ball for her?’
‘Yes, that’s what I mean,’ he replied. He added: ‘Upon terms, dear Louisa!’
She scarcely heeded this rider, but exclaimed: ‘Oh, my dear Vernon, I was positive I could depend on you! I knew you were bantering me! What a wicked, freakish wretch you are! But I shan’t scold you, for I know it is just your way! Oh, Jane will be cast into transports!’
‘Oblige me, then, by telling her nothing about it until I’m out of reach!’ said his lordship acidly. ‘And do, for God’s sake, abate your own ecstasies! I prefer your jobations to your raptures! Sit down, and I’ll tell you what I want you to do!’
She looked for a moment as though she was on the brink of answering him in kind, but only for a moment. The prospect of bringing Jane out at a magnificent ball for which she would not be called upon to disburse as much as a halfpenny made it easy for her to ignore his lordship’s incivility. She sat down, throwing open her olive-brown pelisse. ‘To be sure! How much we have to discuss! Now, when shall
it be? I am inclined to think that it would be best to fix on a date at the beginning of the season.’
‘That’s fortunate: it will be next month. Three weeks from now, let us say.’
‘April! But you cannot have considered! May is the month for the really tonnish parties!’
‘No, is it indeed?’ he mocked. ‘And does it occur to you that May is already overcrowded with balls, routs, and assemblies of every description?’
‘There is that, of course,’ she agreed, frowning over it. ‘But in only three weeks the season will barely have begun!’
‘It will begin, then, at Alverstoke House,’ he replied coolly. ‘And if you imagine, Louisa, that we shall find ourselves thin of company, let me reassure you!’
She was well aware that he was one of the leaders of fashion, but the top-loftiness of this remark made her long to give him a set-down. She refrained, saying instead: ‘I hardly know how I shall contrive! All the arrangements –’
‘Don’t give them a thought! They won’t fall on you. Let Charles Trevor have a list of those you wish to be invited: that is all you have to do.’
She said, with a touch of asperity: ‘Since the ball is for my daughter, I assume I shall be the hostess!’
He regarded her thoughtfully. ‘Why, yes! You may be the hostess, but the ball won’t be wholly for Jane’s benefit. Lucretia will bring her elder girl to it, and –’
‘Chloë!’ she ejaculated, stiffening. ‘Do you dare to tell me, Alverstoke, that I owe this – this change in your sentiments to That Woman’s cajolery?’
‘No, you owe it to an unforeseen and damnably troublesome circumstance. Do you recall Fred Merriville?’
She stared at him. ‘Fred Merriville? Pray, what has he to say to anything?’
‘The poor fellow has nothing to say: he’s dead, alas!’
Her colour was rising ominously. ‘I beg you won’t try to play off your tricks on me, Alverstoke! I’m sure it’s nothing to me whether he’s dead or alive!’
‘Unfortunately it has a great deal to do with me. He consigned his family to my – er – protection. When I tell you that there are no fewer than five of them –’
‘Do you mean that he made you their guardian?’ she interrupted.
‘No, thank God! it’s not as bad as that. He commended them to my care. Two of them are of age, but –’
‘For heaven’s sake!’ she exclaimed. ‘He must have been out of his senses! You, of all persons! What in the world made him do so?’