The Nonesuch

“Oh, no! He is very young. But he has a number of friends amongst the Corinthian set. I thought perhaps you might have encountered him.”

He shook his head; and as Sir Ralph Colebatch came up at that moment she excused herself, and moved away to find Charlotte. She soon saw her, going down the dance with Arthur Mickleby; and realized ruefully, but with a little amusement, that while she had been engaged with the Nonesuch her enterprising pupil had contrived to induce Arthur to lead her into the set. Some mothers, she reflected, would have censured her pretty severely for not having kept a stricter chaperonage over a schoolgirl admitted to the drawing-room merely to watch the dancing for an hour, before going demurely upstairs to bed; but she was not surprised to find Mrs Underhill complacently eyeing her daughter’s performance, or to learn that she had given Charlotte leave to dance.

“Well, I daresay I ought to have said no,” she admitted, “but I like to see young people enjoying themselves, which it’s plain she is, bless her! I’m sure there’s no harm in her taking her place in a country-dance or two, for it’s not as if there was to be any waltzing, that you may depend on! Nor it isn’t a formal ball, which would be a very different matter, of course.” She withdrew her gaze from Charlotte, and said kindly: “And if any gentleman was to ask you to stand up with him, my dear, I hope you’ll do so! There’s no one will wonder at it, not after seeing Sir Waldo going smash up to you, the way he did, and stand talking to you as though you was old friends!”

“He was speaking to me of my uncle, ma’am!” and Miss Trent, snatching at the excuse offered her by the Nonesuch, but flushing a little. “They are acquainted, you see.”

“Ay, that’s just what I said to Mrs. Banningham!” nodded Mrs. Underhill. “‘Oh,’ I said, ‘you may depend upon it Sir Waldo is acquainted with the General, and they are chatting away about him, and all their London friends! I’m sure nothing could be more natural,’ I said, ‘for Miss Trent is very well-connected,’ I said. That made her look yellow, I can tell you! Well, I hope I’m not one to take an affront into my head where none’s intended, but I’ve had a score to settle with Mrs B. ever since she behaved so uppish to me at the Lord-Lieutenant’s party!” A cloud descended on her brow; she said: “However, there’s always something to spoil one’s pleasure, and I don’t scruple to own to you,Miss Trent, that the way his lordship looks at Tiffany has put me in a regular fidget! Mark me if we don’t have him sitting in her pocket now, for anyone can see he’s nutty upon her!”

This was undeniable. Miss Trent thought it would have been wonderful if he had not been looking at Tiffany with that glow of admiration in his eyes; for Tiffany, always responsive to flattery, was at her most radiant: a delicate flush in her cheeks, her eyes sparkling like sapphires, and a lovely, provocative smile on her lips. Half-a-dozen young gentlemen had begged for the honour of leading her into the first set; she had scattered promises amongst them, and had bestowed her hand on Lord Lindeth, taking her place with him while three less fortunate damsels were still unprovided with partners. But that was a circumstance she was unlikely to notice.

“Miss Trent, if he thinks to stand up with her more than twice that’s something I won’t allow!” said Mrs Underhill suddenly. “You must tell her she’s not to do so, for she’ll pay no heed to me, and it’s you her uncle looked to, after all!”

Ancilla smiled, but said: “She wouldn’t flout you publicly, ma’am. I’ll take care, of course—but I fancy Lord Lindeth won’t ask her for a third dance.”

“Lord, my dear, what he’d like to do is to stand up with her for every dance!”

“Yes, but he knows he can’t do so, and has too much propriety of taste, I’m persuaded, to make the attempt. And, to own the truth, ma’am, I think Tiffany wouldn’t grant him more than two dances in any event.”

“Tiffany?” exclaimed Mrs Underhill incredulously. “Why, she’s got no more notion of propriety than the kitchen cat!”

“No, alas! But she is a most accomplished flirt, ma’am!” She could not help laughing at Mrs. Underhill’s face of horror. “I beg your pardon! Of course it is very wrong—shockingly precocious, too!—but you will own that a mere flirtation with Lindeth need not throw you into a quake.”

“Yes, but he’s a lord!” objected Mrs. Underhill. “You know how she says she means to marry one!”

“We must convince her that she would be throwing herself away on anyone under the rank of a Viscount!” said Ancilla lightly.