‘You were modest, weren’t you?’ said Evelyn.
‘Certainly I was! Noble, too, don’t you think?’
‘No,’ replied Evelyn frankly. ‘Buffleheaded!’
‘Dear one, Evelyn is perfectly right!’ said Lady Denville. ‘You couldn’t have been such a goose! Depend upon it, everyone must know that you came into a comfortable fortune when your father died!’
‘Let the boy alone!’ commanded the Dowager. ‘Stavely thought it not large enough: I’ll attend to that! Go on!’
‘I’m much obliged to you, ma’am! Well, I withdrew, never dreaming that my passion was reciprocated, and that I was dashing Cressy’s hopes to the ground.’
‘Oh, Kit, no!’ Cressy uttered imploringly. ‘Don’t tell me I hadn’t the wit to throw out even one lure!’
‘No, no!’ he assured her. ‘You had too much maidenly reserve to do so! And far too much pride to let anyone suspect your secret. You resolutely thrust me out of your mind.’
‘No, I didn’t: I wondered if Evelyn wouldn’t suit me just as well. After all, he’s as like you as he can stare!’
‘That’s an even better notion,’ said Kit approvingly. ‘We now arrive at the point where we stand on unassailable ground. My godfather died, leaving his entire fortune to me. I built the whole story round that circumstance, because it is precisely what did happen! Naturally, this altered the complexion of the affair. I came home, full of hope, to find you on the brink of becoming betrothed to my brother. We met, our feelings were too strong to be mastered, and either Evelyn discovered us locked in a fond embrace, or we disclosed our touching story to him – whichever you fancy, Eve! – whereupon he too succumbed to an attack of nobility, and gracefully retired from the lists.’
‘Only if I can also have too much pride to let anyone suspect my secret!’ stipulated Evelyn. ‘Not even for you am I going to languish with a broken heart, Kester!’
Sir Bonamy, who had listened in rapt interest to the tale, said: ‘Well, if ever I knew you had it in you, Kit! Why, I shouldn’t wonder at it if you could write a book, or a play, or some such thing!’ He perceived, with faint surprise, that Cressy had collapsed into helpless giggles. ‘I’m bound to say I don’t see what there is to laugh at: in my opinion you made a dashed moving thing of it, my boy! You know, Amabel, I begin to think he’ll go a long way after all!’
‘I know he will!’ she responded proudly. ‘I’ve frequently told you that Kit was always equal to anything!’
Kit’s lips twitched at these tributes, but he was looking at the Dowager. ‘Will it do, ma’am?’
She was not attending, and vouchsafed no answer. He waited; and after a short interval she said abruptly: ‘I’ll write to Stavely: no sense in leaving anything to chance! You’ll give the letter to him, and take care he reads it! I never in my life listened to a sicklier, stupider story, but, from what I’ve seen of you, all you would do, if I was to tell you I wouldn’t have it, would be to think of something even more outrageous! Cressy, you may give me your arm! I’m going to bed, for I’m fagged to death!’ She bade the assembled company a cursory good night, but informed Kit, holding open the door for her, that she would thank him not to get himself hanged while she was still alive, and able to feel the shame of being connected with a gallows-bird. After that, she allowed him to kiss her hand, and withdrew, leaning heavily on Cressy’s arm.
‘Kester, if you do indeed mean to spread this story, we must give it a new touch! You could no more tell it as it stands than I could. Anyone who knows us would guess we were cutting a sham!’
‘Good God, we aren’t going to spread it!’ replied Kit. ‘That’s the last thing we should do, if it happened to be true! There’s no need to dress it up. We have only to put Fimber and Challow in possession of the bare bones of it, and leave them to tell it as they please. Give Challow half-an-hour amongst his cronies at the Running Footman, and I’ll lay you any odds you like that there’ll be upwards of a dozen garbled versions spreading all over London within a day! Lord, how many times has Challow favoured you with a choice morsel of gossip? If Stavely consents to Cressy’s marriage, he’ll be only too glad to adopt the story; and I don’t mean to tell Mama what sort of touch to give it!’
‘Oh, no!’ agreed Lady Denville. ‘I know just how I shall tell it, if anyone ventures to ask me any questions, when the advertisement of the engagement appears! Of course, only my particular friends will venture, but I know one who will, and it doesn’t matter a rush if not another soul does!’
‘For my part,’ said Sir Bonamy firmly, ‘I shall say I ain’t on the high gab!’
‘That’s the ticket, sir!’ said Kit, grinning at him. ‘Give ’em a set-down!’
‘Yes, but do you think it might give people quite a wrong notion?’ suggested Lady Denville. ‘Could you, perhaps, say that it is a – a most touching romance?’
‘I might do that,’ conceded Sir Bonamy, having subjected the proposition to careful consideration.
‘What do you think Evelyn should say, Kit?’ asked her ladyship anxiously.
‘Nothing whatsoever!’ he replied.
‘That’s fortunate!’ remarked his twin.
‘All Evelyn has to do,’ said Kit, answering the doubtful question in her ladyship’s eyes, ‘is to behave exactly as he would if the story were true! Poker up, assume an air of distant civility, look down his nose – You know what he is when he gets on his high ropes, Mama!’
‘And how, you uppish Jack-in-the-pulpit, do you mean to answer the curious?’ inquired Evelyn.
‘If it please your lordship – or even if it doesn’t! –’ retorted Kit, ‘I shan’t be obliged to answer them, because by the time the news is out, I shall be in Vienna! Now, don’t eat me! Before I make good my escape, I am going to divulge my apocryphal story to the person for whose benefit it was principally designed. And if you imagine, Eve, that –’ He broke off, as the door opened, and looked quickly round.
But it was Cressy who came into the room, and, as she told him, only to bid him goodnight, and to tell him that she had left the Dowager chuckling. ‘I said I was positive you would make a stir in the world, and that’s what set her off: she said she hadn’t a doubt you would, and fell into such a fit of choking that I was in the greatest dread that it would carry her off! Kit, only a Fancot could have fabricated such a story! Of all the – No, I will not start laughing again!’ Her hands were clasped in his, and her slender fingers tightened. ‘When shall I see you again?’ she asked, looking up into his face.
‘Tomorrow, love,’ he answered, smiling tenderly down at her.