Ernestina's grandfather may have been
no more than a well-to-do draper in Stoke Newington when he was young;
but he died a very rich draper--much more than that, since he had moved
commercially into central London, founded one of 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
no more than a well-to-do draper in Stoke Newington when he was young;
but he died a very rich draper--much more than that, since he had moved
commercially into central London, founded one of 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
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