the West End's great stores and
extended his business into many departments besides drapery. Her
father, indeed, had given her only what he had himself received: the
best education that money could buy. In all except his origins he was
impeccably a gentleman; and he had married discreetly above him, a
daughter of one of
the
City's most successful solicitors, who could number an
Attorney-General, no less, among his not-too-distant ancestors.
Ernestina's qualms about her social status were therefore rather
farfetched, even by Victorian standards; and they had never in the
least troubled Charles.
"Do but think,"
he had once said to her, "how disgracefully plebeian a name
Smithson is."
"Ah indeed--if you
were only called Lord Brabazon Vavasour Vere de Vere--how much more I
should love you!"
But behind her
self-mockery lurked a fear.
He had first met her the
preceding November, at the house of a lady who had her eye on him for
one of her own covey of simperers. These young ladies had had the
misfortune to be briefed by their parents before the evening began.
They made the cardinal error of trying to pretend to Charles that
paleontology absorbed them--he must give them the titles of the most
interesting books on the subject--whereas Ernestina showed a gently
acid little determination not to take him very seriously. She would,
she murmured, send him any interesting specimens of coal she came
across in her scuttle; and later she told him she thought he was very
lazy. Why, pray? Because he could hardly enter any London drawing
room without finding abundant examples of the objects of his
interest.
To both young people it
had promised to be just one more dull evening; and both, when they
returned to their respective homes, found that it had not been so.
They saw in each other a
superiority of intelligence, a lightness of touch, a dryness that
pleased. Ernestina let it be known that she had found "that Mr.
Smithson" an agreeable change from the dull crop of partners
hitherto presented for her examination that season. Her mother made
discreet inquiries; and consulted her husband, who made more; for no
young male ever set foot in the drawing room of the house overlooking
Hyde Park who had not been as well vetted as any modern security
department vets its atomic scientists.
Charles
passed his secret ordeal with flying colors.
Now Ernestina had seen
the mistake of her rivals: that no wife thrown at Charles's head
would ever touch his heart. So when he began to frequent her mother's
at homes and soirees he had the unusual experience of finding that there was no sign of
the usual matrimonial trap; no sly hints from the mother of how much
the sweet darling loved children or "secretly longed for the end
of the season" (it was supposed that Charles would live
permanently at Winsyatt, as soon as the obstacular uncle did his
duty); or less sly ones from the father on the size of the fortune
"my dearest girl" would bring to her husband. The latter
were, in any case, conspicuously unnecessary; the Hyde Park house was
fit for a duke to live in, and the absence of brothers and sisters
said more than a thousand bank statements.
Nor did Ernestina,
although she was very soon wildly determined, as only a spoiled
daughter can be, to have Charles, overplay her hand. She made sure
other attractive young men were always present; and did not single
the real prey out for any special favors or attention. She was, on
principle, never serious with him; without exactly saying so she gave
him the impression that she liked him because he was fun-- but of
course she knew he would never marry. Then came an evening in January
when she decided to plant the fatal seed.
She saw Charles standing
alone; and on the opposite side of the room she saw an aged dowager,
a kind of Mayfair equivalent of Mrs. Poulteney, whom she knew would
be as congenial to Charles as castor oil to a healthy child. She went
up to him.
"Shall you not go
converse with Lady Fairwether?"
"I
extended his business into many departments besides drapery. Her
father, indeed, had given her only what he had himself received: the
best education that money could buy. In all except his origins he was
impeccably a gentleman; and he had married discreetly above him, a
daughter of one of
the
City's most successful solicitors, who could number an
Attorney-General, no less, among his not-too-distant ancestors.
Ernestina's qualms about her social status were therefore rather
farfetched, even by Victorian standards; and they had never in the
least troubled Charles.
"Do but think,"
he had once said to her, "how disgracefully plebeian a name
Smithson is."
"Ah indeed--if you
were only called Lord Brabazon Vavasour Vere de Vere--how much more I
should love you!"
But behind her
self-mockery lurked a fear.
He had first met her the
preceding November, at the house of a lady who had her eye on him for
one of her own covey of simperers. These young ladies had had the
misfortune to be briefed by their parents before the evening began.
They made the cardinal error of trying to pretend to Charles that
paleontology absorbed them--he must give them the titles of the most
interesting books on the subject--whereas Ernestina showed a gently
acid little determination not to take him very seriously. She would,
she murmured, send him any interesting specimens of coal she came
across in her scuttle; and later she told him she thought he was very
lazy. Why, pray? Because he could hardly enter any London drawing
room without finding abundant examples of the objects of his
interest.
To both young people it
had promised to be just one more dull evening; and both, when they
returned to their respective homes, found that it had not been so.
They saw in each other a
superiority of intelligence, a lightness of touch, a dryness that
pleased. Ernestina let it be known that she had found "that Mr.
Smithson" an agreeable change from the dull crop of partners
hitherto presented for her examination that season. Her mother made
discreet inquiries; and consulted her husband, who made more; for no
young male ever set foot in the drawing room of the house overlooking
Hyde Park who had not been as well vetted as any modern security
department vets its atomic scientists.
Charles
passed his secret ordeal with flying colors.
Now Ernestina had seen
the mistake of her rivals: that no wife thrown at Charles's head
would ever touch his heart. So when he began to frequent her mother's
at homes and soirees he had the unusual experience of finding that there was no sign of
the usual matrimonial trap; no sly hints from the mother of how much
the sweet darling loved children or "secretly longed for the end
of the season" (it was supposed that Charles would live
permanently at Winsyatt, as soon as the obstacular uncle did his
duty); or less sly ones from the father on the size of the fortune
"my dearest girl" would bring to her husband. The latter
were, in any case, conspicuously unnecessary; the Hyde Park house was
fit for a duke to live in, and the absence of brothers and sisters
said more than a thousand bank statements.
Nor did Ernestina,
although she was very soon wildly determined, as only a spoiled
daughter can be, to have Charles, overplay her hand. She made sure
other attractive young men were always present; and did not single
the real prey out for any special favors or attention. She was, on
principle, never serious with him; without exactly saying so she gave
him the impression that she liked him because he was fun-- but of
course she knew he would never marry. Then came an evening in January
when she decided to plant the fatal seed.
She saw Charles standing
alone; and on the opposite side of the room she saw an aged dowager,
a kind of Mayfair equivalent of Mrs. Poulteney, whom she knew would
be as congenial to Charles as castor oil to a healthy child. She went
up to him.
"Shall you not go
converse with Lady Fairwether?"
"I
Similar Books
