She gave him her hand, gloved in lemon kid. “How do you do? I believe one is sure of meeting everyone at Hookham’s, soon or late. Tell me, have you read this novel? I have just picked it at random from the shelf. I don’t know who wrote it, but do, my dear cousin, read where I have quite by accident opened the volume!”
He looked over her shoulder. Her finger pointed to a line. While he read she watched him, smiling, to see what effect the words must produce on him.
“I am glad of it. He seems a most gentleman-like man; and I think, Elinor, I may congratulate you on the prospect of a very respectable establishment in life,”
“Me, brother! What do you mean?”
“He likes you. I observed him narrowly, and am convinced of it. What is the amount of his fortune?”
“I believe about two thousand a year.”
“Two thousand a year?”and then working himself up to a pitch of enthusiastic generosity, he added: “Elinor, I wish with all my heart it were twice as much for your sake.”
A laugh assured Miss Taverner that this passage had struck her cousin just as she believed it must. She said, closing the volume: “Surely the writer of that must possess a most lively mind? I am determined to take this book. It seems all to be written about ordinary people, and, do you know, I am quite tired of Sicilians and Italian Counts who behave in such a very odd way. Sense and Sensibility! Well, after Midnight Bells and Horrid Mysteries that has a pleasant ring, don’t you agree?”
“Undoubtedly. I think it has not yet come in my way, but if you report well of it I shall certainly bespeak it. Are you walking? May I be your escort?”
“My carriage is waiting outside. I have to call at Jones’s for Mrs. Scattergood. I wish you may accompany me.”
He was all compliance, and having handed her into the carriage, took his seat beside her, and said with a grave look: “I believe my father has been to call on you this morning.”
She inclined her head. “Yes, my uncle was with us for about an hour.”
“I can guess his errand. I am sorry for it.”
“There is no need. He considers that Perry is too young to be thinking of marriage, and in part I agree with him.”
“Perry’s friends must all feel the truth of that. It is a pity. He has seen very little of the world, and at nineteen, you know, one’s taste is not fixed. My father has never been a believer in early marriages. But it may yet come to nothing, I daresay.”
“I do not think it,” Judith said decidedly. “Perry is young, but he knows his own mind, and once that is made up there is generally no changing it. I believe the attachment to be deep; it is certainly mutual. And, you know, however much I may regret an engagement entered into so soon I could not wish to see it broken.”
He assented. “It would be very bad. We can only wish him happy. I am not acquainted with Miss Fairford. You like her?”
“She is a very amiable, good sort of girl,” responded Judith.
“I am glad. The wedding, I conclude, will not be long put off?”
“I am not perfectly sure. Lord Worth spoke of six months, but Perry hopes to be able to induce him to consent to its taking place sooner. I don’t know how he will succeed.”
“I imagine Lord Worth will be more likely to find the means of postponing it.”
She turned an inquiring look upon him. He shook his head. “We shall see, but I own myself a little worried. I don’t understand Worth’s consenting to this marriage. But it is possible that I misjudge him.”
The barouche drew up outside the haberdasher’s, and Mrs. Scattergood coming out of the shop directly Judith could not pursue the subject further. Her cousin stepped down to help Mrs. Scattergood into the carriage. He declined getting in again; he had business to transact in the neighborhood; they left him on the pavement, and drove slowly on down the street. Coming opposite to Jackson’s again some little press of traffic obliged the coachman to pull his horses in to a standstill, and before they could move on two gentlemen came out of the Saloon, and stood for a moment on the pavement immediately beside the barouche. One was the Earl of Worth; the other Colonel Armstrong, a close friend of the Duke of York, with whom Miss Taverner was only slightly acquainted. Both gentlemen bowed to her; Colonel Armstrong walked away up the street, and Worth stepped forward to the barouche.
“Well, my ward?” he said. “How do you do, cousin?”
“Do you go our way?” inquired Mrs. Scattergood. “May we take you up?”
“To the bottom of the street, if you will,” he answered, getting into the carriage.
Miss Taverner was gazing at a milliner’s window on the opposite side of the road, apparently rapt in admiration of a yellow satin bonnet embossed with orange leopard-spots, and bound with a green figured ribbon, but at Mrs. Scattergood’s next words she turned her head and unwillingly paid attention to what was being said.
“I am excessively glad to have fallen in with you, Julian,” Mrs. Scattergood declared. “I have been wanting to ask you these three days what you were about to let Perry tie himself up in this fashion. Not that I have a word to say against Miss Fairford: I am sure she is perfectly amiable, a delightful girl! But you know he might do much better for himself. How came you to be giving your consent so readily?”
He said lazily: “I must have been in an uncommonly good temper, I suppose. Don’t you like the match?”
“It is respectable, but not brilliant, and I must say, Worth, I think Perry much too young.”
He made no reply. Miss Taverner raised her eyes to his face. “Do you think it wise to let him be married?” she asked.
“I think he is not married yet, Miss Taverner,” replied Worth.
The carriage began to move forward. Judith said: “Now that it has been so publicly announced it must be a settled thing.”
“Oh, by no means,” said Worth. “A dozen things might happen to prevent it.”
“He cannot in honour turn back from an engagement.”
“True, but I might turn him back from it if I thought it proper to do so,” said the Earl.
“If you do not like the engagement why did you permit him to enter into it?” asked Miss Taverner rather sternly.
“Because I had not the smallest desire to see him persuade Miss Fairford into a runaway match,” replied Worth.
She frowned. “I am to understand that you don’t wish to see him married?”
“Not at all. Why should I?” He turned to address the coachman, desiring to be set down at the corner. The carriage turned into Piccadilly, and stopped. He got out, and stood for a moment with his hand on the door. His face softened as he looked at Miss Taverner, but he only said: “Believe me, I have your affairs well in hand. Where do you go from here? Shall I direct your coachman?”
“Oh, we are going to look at the new bridge across the river,” said Mrs. Scattergood. “But he knows. Well, I am glad we met you, and I have no doubt there is a great deal in what you say. You are off to White’s, I suppose? I am sure I do not know what you gentlemen would do if there were no clubs to spend the day in!”
He returned no answer to this observation, but merely bowed and stepped back.
“Well, my love,” said Mrs. Scattergood as the carriage moved on, “you may say what you will, but excepting only Mr. Brummell, there is no one in town who dresses so well as Worth! Such an air of fashion! I believe you may see your face in his boots as well as in your mirror.”
“I have never denied Lord Worth’s ability to be in the mode,” replied Miss Taverner indifferently. “The only thing that surprises me is to see him come out of a boxing saloon.”
“Oh, my dear, I daresay he went only to accompany Colonel Armstrong,” said Mrs. Scattergood excusingly.
“More than likely,” agreed Judith, with a contemptuous smile.