The Nonesuch

He laughed, blushing. “No, no, I didn’t mean it so! You know I didn’t! Miss Wield, what do you say?” He smiled at her, adding softly: “Instead of the nuncheon we didn’t eat at Knaresborough! You won’t be so cruel as to refuse!”

It piqued her to be the last to receive his invitation, but she was on her best behaviour, and she replied at once: “Oh, no! A delightful scheme! The very thing to revive us after all our shopping!”

She then went off, with every appearance of alacrity, to visit Elizabeth; and Lady Colebatch remarked that she didn’t know what Lizzie had done to deserve such kind friends.

When Tiffany came down again she was accompanied by Miss Chartley, and the whole party took their leave. Miss Trent wondered whether his infatuation would prompt Lindeth to offer to take Tiffany up in place of Patience, and hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry when he made no such suggestion. It was Patience who hesitated, as he stood waiting to hand her up into the carriage, glancing towards Tiffany with a question in her eyes, and saying in her gentle way: “Wouldn’t you prefer to go in the phaeton, Tiffany?”

Tiffany would infinitely have preferred it, and had Julian invited her she would have accepted, after a graceful show of reluctance. But Julian had not invited her, and he did not now add his voice to Miss Chartley’s. That it would have been scarcely civil of him to have done so never occurred to Tiffany; if it had, she would have brushed such an excuse aside: he had chosen to be civil to Patience at her expense, and that, in her eyes, was an unpardonable offence. As for accepting a seat in the phaeton at Patience’s hands, she would have chosen rather to walk back to Staples. She uttered a brittle laugh, and said: “No, I thank you! I detest riding in phaetons, and am in a constant quake—unless they are being driven by someone I know won’t overturn them!”

Miss Trent, who had been stroking one of the leaders, said, in a voice that had in the past more than once abashed a pert pupil: “My dear Tiffany, surely you are able to distinguish between perch-phaeton and a high-perch phaeton?” She paid no further heed to Tiffany, but smiled at Lindeth: “The fact that you are driving your cousin’s team tells me that you’re no whipster, Lord Lindeth! Or did you steal them when his back was turned?”

He laughed. “No, I shouldn’t dare! Waldo always lets me drive his horses. He must, you know, for it was he who taught me to handle the reins in form. Only think of the wound his pride would suffer if he had to own that his pupil was not fit to be trusted with his horses! Don’t be afraid, Miss Chartley! I’m not a top-sawyer, but I shan’t overturn you!”

“Indeed, I haven’t the smallest fear of that,” she replied, glancing shyly up at him. “You drove me here so comfortably!”

“Thank you!” He saw that Tiffany was preparing to get into the barouche, and walked across to her, to hand her in. “I mean to make you unsay those words one of these days!” he said playfully. “The grossest injustice! I wish we hadn’t to part so soon: I’ve scarcely exchanged half-a-dozen sentences with you. Did you find Miss Colebatch better? Her mama assured me we need not be afraid of a put-off of their ball next week. Will you dance the waltz with me?”

“What?” she exclaimed, her sulks instantly forgotten. “Lindeth, you can’t mean we are to waltz? Oh, you’re hoaxing me!”

He shook his head. “I’m not! Dashing, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes, and such fun!” she cried, clapping her hands. “I declare I’m ready to dote on Lady Colebatch! But how does she dare to be so dreadfully fast? Only think how Mrs. Mickleby will look!”

“It has her sanction—almost her blessing!”

“Impossible!”

“I assure you!” His eyes danced. “Lady Colebatch sought her counsel, and she—naturally!—applied to those tonnish London cousins of hers. They informed her that the waltz is now all the crack, and is even permitted at Almack’s. Only rustics, they wrote, still frowned on it. So—!”

“Oh, famous, famous!” she giggled. “The great Mrs. Mickleby a rustic? Now I understand!”

“And you’ll stand up with me?”

“If my aunt permits!” she replied demurely.

He smiled, pressed her hand fleetingly, and went back to the phaeton. Tiffany was so much delighted with his news that she was not only able to bear with equanimity the sight of him driving off with Patience beside him, but to chat merrily to Miss Trent about the treat in store all the way back to Staples.

Chapter 9

Meanwhile, Lord Lindeth, driving Miss Chartley home at an easy pace, naturally told her that the waltz would be danced at the Colby Place ball. She was quite as much surprised as Tiffany had been, but she received the news very differently, saying wistfully: “I have never learnt to waltz, but I shall enjoy watching it.”

“You could learn the steps in a trice,” he assured her. “I know how well you dance, Miss Chartley! Any caper-merchant could teach you in one lesson! Why, I could do it myself—though I’m no dab at it! Do let me!”