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‘Well, there’s no sense in going to look at that!’ said Freddy, relieved. ‘What’s it say about the Bank of England?’
‘“One of the wonders of commerce; and one of the abortions of art,”’ read out Miss Charing.
‘Is it, though? Well, that settles it! We needn’t go to Cornhill at all. You know, Kit, that’s a dashed good book! We can go home now!’
‘Yes, for we should scarcely have time to visit the Tower, I suppose,’ agreed Kitty. ‘Only do you think we should see some of the prisons?’
‘See the prisons?’ exclaimed Freddy. ‘Why?’
‘Well, I don’t precisely know, but the book says that “no stranger who visits London should omit to view these mansions of misery.”’
But Freddy decided that they had had enough misery for one day, and bade the coachman drive back to Berkeley Square, reminding Miss Charing, when she suggested that they ought, perhaps, to pause at the Temple on the way, that since she was accompanying Meg to an informal party that evening it would not do for her to be late in returning home. She agreed to this, consoling herself with the reflection that the Temple might easily be visited on their way to the Tower on the morrow.
Freddy groaned, but attempted no remonstrance. Any hope that he might have cherished that Miss Charing would be too weary to embark upon a second voyage of exploration was slain by her appearance on the following morning, dressed in a very smart habit, and obviously in fine fettle. She took her place beside him in the carriage, drew The Picture of London from her muff, and proved to him, by reading aloud from this book, that it clearly behooved her to see the Guildhall on the way to the Tower. This ordeal behind them, the rest of the day was spent more agreeably than Freddy had expected. He would not have chosen to waste his time in such a fashion, and he could only deprecate Miss Charing’s determination to omit no corner of the various buildings from her tour; but he was pleasantly surprised to find that the Tower housed a fine collection of wild beasts; and he was even roused to real interest in the Mint, where they were allowed to watch the stamping of various coins. A tendency on Miss Charing’s part to brood over the sufferings of such former visitors to the Tower as Lady Jane Grey and Sir Walter Raleigh he quelled, saying that there was no sense in falling into a fit of the dismals about things which had happened in the Middle Ages; and a moving account of the behaviour of the Princess Elizabeth at the Traitors’ Gate quite failed to impress him.
‘Silly thing to do!’ he remarked. ‘Shouldn’t wonder at it if she caught a chill. I had an uncle who got soaked to the skin once. Had an inflammation of the lungs. Dead as a herring within the week. Come along, let us take a look at this Ladies’ Line they talk about!’
It was upon their return from this expedition, and while Kitty was still describing to Meg some of the things she had seen, that Mr Jack Westruther paid a formal call in Berkeley Square, and brought with him the Chevalier d’Evron.
Any apprehensions engendered by Freddy’s gloomy forebodings were put to flight on the instant. The Chevalier was a handsome young man, with a lively, intelligent pair of eyes, beautifully glossy locks of a light brown, cut and curled à la cherubim, and an air and deportment worthy of the first circles. His long-tailed coat of bottle-green had obviously been fashioned for him by a master; his fawn pantaloons admirably became a pair of really excellent legs; his linen was meticulously starched; and his Hessian boots would have furnished anyone with a very tolerable mirror. If Mr Westruther, a careless beau, thought those cherubim ringlets a trifle effeminate; and Mr Standen, a high stickler, considered the Chevalier’s waistcoat to be rather too florid, these were faults of style which the ladies were easily able to overlook. The Chevalier’s bow almost put Freddy’s to shame; air and address were alike distinguished; and when, to the advantages of a handsome face and a good figure, he was found to add a very slight fo
reign accent to his speech, his success with the fair sex was assured.
Kitty, who had been staring at him while he bowed over Meg’s hand, exclaimed suddenly: ‘But—You are Camille!’
He turned towards her, smiling. ‘But yes! I am Camille, little cousin! I did not dare to think that I could hold a place in your memory. Tell me, I beg of you!—did she long survive my surgery, that blonde beauty? Alas, that I should have forgotten her name!’
She laughed, warmly shaking hands with him. ‘Rosabel—and indeed she survived for many years! I am so happy to see you again! I hope my uncle, and your brother, are both well?’
‘I thank you, very well. And your amiable guardian?’
‘Yes, indeed. Are you upon a visit to England? Where do you stay?’
He told her that he was lodging in Duke Street, which, however little it might convey to country-bred Kitty, served to convince Meg that his domicile was as unimpeachable as his manners. Very well-pleased to add so personable a young man to her circle, she extended to him an invitation to a small rout-party she was holding three days later. He accepted with just the right degree of gratitude, and took his leave, after a visit lasting for a correct half-hour, in an atmosphere of general approval, even Freddy acknowledging that he seemed to be a tolerable fellow. It had transpired, during the course of conversation, that he, like Lady Buckhaven and the engaged couple, meant to be present at the Non-Pareil Theatre that evening, to see a new play which was being put on there; he begged to be allowed to visit her ladyship’s box during the interval, was accorded a gracious permission, and bowed himself out in a manner which led Meg to say that only a man accustomed to move in the world of ton could get himself out of a room with such ease and grace.
Kitty was so much delighted to have met again one of whom she cherished the kindest memories that her transports might have been expected to have cast her betrothed into agonies of jealousy. Mr Standen managed without effort to preserve his equanimity, a fact of which his cousin’s amused eyes took due note.
‘Seems a good enough sort of a fellow,’ Freddy said cautiously. ‘Mind, I didn’t like his waistcoat, but, then, I don’t like yours either, coz, so I daresay it don’t signify. Where did you meet him? I haven’t seen him before.’
‘But you have been in Leicestershire, Freddy,’ Jack reminded him. ‘I fancy the Chevalier has not long been amongst us, though I am told that he was reared in England.’
‘Yes, that is quite true,’ Kitty said. ‘I think my uncle came to England on account of the troubles in France, but Uncle Matthew so much dislikes French people that he would never invite my relations to Arnside. And so I never saw Camille more than once in my life, and that was when I was quite a little girl. But I never forgot him, or how kind he was in mending the doll Claud sent to the guillotine!’
‘I cannot tell you, my dear Kitty, how happy I am that it has been my privilege to bring you together again,’ said Jack, rising from his chair. ‘I must tear myself from you, Meg. How unkind it was of you, by the way, not to have invited me to go with you tonight! Our dear Kitty’s first visit to the theatre! It is an event—one which I would give much to witness. But you will tell me all about it, Kitty, won’t you?’
‘You would find that a great bore, I am persuaded!’ she retorted.
‘No, no! When have I ever been bored by your confidences?’ he said, quizzing her.
‘But, Jack, I will not be so wronged!’ Meg cried. ‘It is Freddy’s party, you must know, not mine!’
‘Then it was very unkind of Freddy,’ he said, raising her hand to his lips.
‘Thought you was promised to Stichill tonight?’ said Freddy.
‘I am, of course,’ admitted Mr Westruther. ‘But it was still very unkind of you not to have invited me!’ He then took an unconventional leave of Kitty, pinching her chin, and bidding her enjoy herself, and went away.
‘Never knew such a complete hand!’ said Freddy. ‘I must say, I’m glad he ain’t coming. For one thing, he’d very likely cut the piece up, and for another, five’s an awkward number. Stonehouse is going along with us, and we’ll have supper afterwards at the Piazza. You’ll like that, Kit.’
