“Baggage!” said the Dowager, in no way deceived, but palliating the severity of this remark by pinching Cressy’s cheek. “Now, you listen to me, girl! You’ll find that this brat of Albinia’s has put your nose out of joint, so, if you take my advice, you’ll bring all this paltering of yours to an end, and accept Denville’s offer. I said I wouldn’t press you, and I stand by my word; but I know Albinia, and I tell you to your head that if you found her hard to deal with before she gave birth to a son you’ll find her insupportable now that she’s puffed up in her own conceit! What’s more, she won’t rest until she’s rid of you: make up your mind to that! As for your father, he’s fond of you, but he won’t take your part: he’s a weak man—none of my sons ever had an ounce of spunk between them! Took after their father, more’s the pity! Bag and baggage policy was all you could look for in any of ’em.”
“Well, I shouldn’t wish Papa to take my part, ma’am—or, rather, I know that it would be very improper to encourage him to do so!”
“It wouldn’t fadge if you did. If Albinia ain’t a shrew I’m much mistaken!”
“Impossible!” Cressy said, laughing at her.
The dowager’s fierce eyes gleamed, but she said: “None of your impudence, miss! Not that I’m often mistaken, for I haven’t lived to be an old woman without learning to know one point more than the devil, as they say.” Her eyes softened, as she looked down into Cressy’s face. “Never mind that! I’ve more fondness for you than for anyone, child, and I want to see you established, and happy. I told you at the outset I set no store by Denville’s rank or fortune, and no more I would have, if I’d discovered him to be the frippery young care-for-nobody Brumby thinks him. Not but what he’s a prize catch, and has had ’em all on the scramble for him ever since his come-out! However, I’ve lived long enough to know that it ain’t by any means everything to land a big fish, and not a word of censure would you have heard from me, Cressy, if you’d had a preference for some lesser gentleman—provided, of course, that his birth matched your own, and he was up to the rig!”
“You like him, don’t you, Grandmama?” said Cressy.
“Yes, I do—not that it signifies! A very proper man, I call him, and one that knows what’s o’clock, and ain’t afraid to look one in the face, and give one back as good as he gets!” the Dowager replied, with a dry chuckle. “No want of proper spunk in him, for all his engaging manners! But what I want to know, my girl, is whether you like him?”
“Oh, yes! I think everyone does,” Cressy responded. “He is very charming!”
“I’d a notion you thought so!” remarked the Dowager caustically.
“Oh, I do! But I am not very well-acquainted with him yet, you know,” said Cressy pensively.
“I know nothing of the sort!” declared the Dowager, staring down at her under frowning brows. “Pray, how much better acquainted with him do you expect to be, miss?”
“Much better, ma’am! But however well-acquainted with him I may be I shall never marry him!”
“Well, upon my word!” uttered the Dowager, her eyes snapping. “Have you taken leave of your senses, girl, or are you no better than a common flirt? You’ve lived in his pocket above a sennight—smelling of April and May, the pair of you! and very well pleased I’ve been to see it! I wasn’t in favour of the match at the outset, and I know very well you were of two minds, Cressy! Which was why I brought you here! I’ll thank you to tell me why, if you was ready enough to accept his offer at the outset, you’ve changed your mind! What, in heaven’s name, do you look for in your husband, wet-goose? As handsome a young man as I’ve clapped eyes on this many a day, with a well-formed person, excellent style, easy manners, an address many an older man might envy, superior understanding, and a smile I could not have withstood when I was a girl, and you choose to turn niffy-naffy! Good God, Cressy, have you windmills in your head? You told me you had made up your mind to a mariage de convenance, but if you don’t know he’s nutty upon you, you’re no better than a moon-ling, and I wash my hands of you!”
Cressy, a mixture of guilt and amusement in her face, possessed herself of one of these hands, and nursed it to her cheek. “Indeed I’m not a moonling, Grandmama!” she said, her voice quivering on the edge of laughter. “I told you the truth, moreover! I did think that such a marriage would be preferable to remaining in Mount Street, and Denville never pretended that he felt any warmer affection for me than I felt for him! As for being nutty upon me, he never was, and never will be! Which I am heartily glad of, dear ma’am, because I tumbled quite—quite desperately in love with his brother, and he is the man I am going to marry, whatever you, or Papa, or anyone may say!”
The Dowager’s claw-like hand closed on hers like a vice. “What?” she demanded. “Denville’s brother?”
Cressy raised glowing eyes to hers. “His brother, Grandmama. You have never met Denville. Kit is so like him that even I was deceived at first! But there is no comparison! I—I felt the difference when he came to Mount Street in Denville’s place, to meet you; and that was why I was willing to come here with you!” She drew the Dowager’s twisted hand to her mouth, and kissed it. “You will perceive the difference, because you’re so wise, ma’am, and so discerning! Oh, I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to know that you think so well of Kit!”
“You’re out!” interrupted the Dowager harshly, snatching her hand away. “Jackanapes!” she uttered, her jaws working. “So he’s been making a May game of me, has he? A more impudent imposture I never heard of, not in all my days!”
Cressy smiled lovingly at her. “You will discover him to be in perfect agreement with you, ma’am, for that is precisely what he thinks. He entered into it against his will, and would have escaped from it had you not proposed this visit to Lady Denville! I must try to make you understand the circumstances—the bond that exists between him and Denville! But I am much inclined to think that no one who was not born a twin could wholly understand the—the strength of that bond!”
“What I understand, and without difficulty, is that he’s a cozening rascal who knows just how to bring you round his finger, nickninny!” retorted the Dowager, in no way appeased.
“Well, he hasn’t tried to do so, but I haven’t the least doubt that he could!” admitted Cressy, unabashed. “I have no more knowledge than you, Grandmama, of what it means to be a twin, but I collect that, if they are as close as Kit and Evelyn, each knows when the other is in trouble, or has suffered a physical injury—and neither would hesitate, no matter what the cost, to fly to the other’s rescue. It seems,” she said slowly, knitting her brows, “that they can’t help but do so!”
“Does it indeed?” snorted the Dowager. “Well, perhaps you’ll explain to me, my girl, what trouble Denville was in which caused his brother to practise this abominable cheat!”
“Yes, indeed I will, ma’am!” Cressy said, with disarming readiness. She chuckled. “It is quite fantastic, you know, but for my part I have never enjoyed anything more in my life! Only a Fancot could have embarked on such a crazy adventure—and only Kit could have carried it with such a high hand! He doesn’t want for proper spunk, Grandmama!”
“Cut no wheedles for my benefit!” commanded the Dowager, “A round tale is all I wish to hear!”
It was not quite a round tale which Cressy, disposing herself more comfortably at her knee, recounted, for it underwent certain expurgations; but it was true in all its essentials, and the Dowager listened to it in silence. It could not have been said that there was any relaxing in her countenance; but she appeared, several times, to be afflicted with a tic, which twitched the muscles in her cheek; and once, when Cressy, knowing her love of a salted story, ventured to describe the encounter with Mrs Alperton, she was seized by a choking fit, which, glaring at her granddaughter, she ascribed to asthma. But when the tale was told she declared that a more disgraceful one she had never heard, adding shrewdly: “I notice that that pretty, silly gadabout whom you choose to call your dearest Godmama don’t figure in it! Trying to put the change on me, ain’t you? You may hang up your axe, Cressy! I’m not a pea-goose, and never was, so if you mean to tell me she wasn’t at the back of it, spare your breath!”