AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘My love!’ cried Mrs Scattergood, coming suddenly into the room, in her street dress and hat, ‘you must instantly drive with me to Bond Street! I have seen the most ravishing sea-coast promenade gown! I am determined you must purchase it. Nothing could be more desirable, more exactly suited to the seaside! It is of yellow craped muslin, confined at the bosom and down the entire front with knots of green ribbon, and bound round the neck with, I think, three rows of the same. You may imagine how neat! There is a high lace tucker, and ruffles on the sleeves, and a Zephyr cloak to wear with it, made of lace, falling in long points to the feet, with green tassels to finish each point, and a sash round the waist. You could wea
r your yellow morocco sandals with it, and the pebble ear-rings and necklace, and the beehive bonnet with the long veil. Oh, and what do you think, my dear? I met Charles Audley on my way, and he told me Worth is to go to Brighton too, and has taken a house on the Steyne for the whole summer. But what is the matter? Why do you look at me like that? Have you received bad news?’
Judith sprang up, and screwing the Earl’s letter into a ball, hurled it into the empty grate. ‘I think,’ she said stormily, ‘that Lord Worth is the most odious, provoking, detestable creature alive!’
Sixteen
WORTH’S DUPLICITY, WORTH’S DESPICABLE STRATEGY, WORTH’S infamous triumph, possessed Miss Taverner’s mind for many days. In all the business of choosing muslins, gauzes, French cambrics, and crapes for the making up for gowns to wear at Brighton, plans for revenge on him were revolving in her head, and her thoughts wandered even when she was engaged in choosing between sandals made of white kid, and Roman boots of Denmark satin. Mrs Scattergood was in despair, and when Miss Taverner cast an indifferent glance at two hats displayed by a milliner (the one an enchanting Lavinia chip tied down with sarcenet ribbons, and the other a celestial-blue bonnet with a jockey-front edged with honey-comb trimming) and said that she liked neither, her chaperon, seriously alarmed, spoke of sending for Dr Baillie to prescribe a tonic.
Miss Taverner declined seeing a doctor, but continued to brood darkly over Worth’s enormities.
Somewhat to Peregrine’s disappointment, the Fairfords were not going to Brighton, but to Worthing instead, a resort much patronised by persons to whom the racket of Brighton was distasteful. Nothing but the discovery that Worthing was situated only thirteen miles from Brighton reconciled him to his sister’s choice of watering-place, and with the smallest encouragement he would have forgone all the gaiety of Brighton and secured lodgings at Worthing instead. But Judith was adamant, and he was forced to be content with the prospect of riding over to see his Harriet three or four times a week.
The time for their departure from London drew near; everything was in train; all that remained to be done was to pack their trunks, and to decide upon the route to be followed. There could be little question: all the advantages of the New Road, which was shorter and in better condition than any other, were felt. At the most four carriages only could be thought necessary, and with her own horses posted on the road, Judith might expect to accomplish the journey in five hours or less. Twenty-eight stage-coaches a day ran between London and Brighton during the season, but Peregrine could not discover that any of them made the journey in less than six hours. He was of the opinion that a light travelling chaise-and-four might very well accomplish it in five, though he, driving his curricle, had every expectation of rivalling the Regent’s performance in 1784, when, as Prince of Wales, he had driven a phaeton drawn by three horses, harnessed tandem-fashion, from Carlton House to the Marine Pavilion in four hours and a half.
‘Though I shan’t drive unicorn, of course,’ he added. ‘I shall have four horses.’
‘My dear, you could not drive unicorn if you wanted to,’ said Judith. ‘Those randoms are the most difficult of all to handle. I wish I might go with you. I hate travelling boxed up in a chaise.’
‘Well, why don’t you?’ said Peregrine.
She had spoken idly, but the notion having entered her head it took root, and she began seriously to consider whether it might not be possible. She very soon convinced herself that there could be no harm in it; it might be thought eccentric, but she who took snuff and drove a perch-phaeton for the purpose of being remarkable, could scarcely regard that as an evil. Within half an hour of having first mentioned the scheme she had decided to put it into execution.
In spite of having assured herself that no objection could be made to it, she was not surprised at encountering opposition from Mrs Scattergood. That lady threw up her hands, and pronounced the plan to be impossible. She represented to Judith all the impropriety of rattling down to Brighton in an open carriage, and begged her to consider in what a hoydenish light she must appear if she adhered to the scheme. ‘It will not do!’ she said. ‘It is one thing to drive an elegant phaeton in the Park, and in the country you may do as you please without occasioning remark; but to drive in a curricle down the most crowded turnpike-road in the country, to be quizzed by every vulgar Corinthian who sees you, is not to be thought of. It would look so particular! Upon no account in the world must you do it! That sort of thing can be allowable only in such women as Lady Lade, and I am sure no one could wonder at whatever she took it into her head to do.’
‘Do not make yourself uneasy, ma’am,’ said Judith, putting up her chin. ‘I have no apprehension of being thought to rival Lady Lade. You can entertain no scruple in seeing me drive away with my own brother.’
‘Pray do not think of it, my love! Every feeling must be offended! But you only wish to tease me, I know. I am persuaded you have too much delicacy of principle to engage on such an adventure. I shudder to think what Worth would say if he were to hear of it!’
‘Indeed!’ said Judith, taking fire. ‘I shall not allow him to be a judge of my actions, ma’am. I believe my credit may survive a journey to Brighton in my brother’s curricle. You must know that my determination is fixed. I go with Perry.’
No arguments could move her; entreaties were useless. Mrs Scattergood abandoned the struggle, and hurried away to send off a note to Worth.
Upon the following day Peregrine came to his sister and said, with a rueful grimace: ‘Maria must have split on you, Ju. I’ve been at White’s that morning, and met Worth there. The long and short of it is that you are to go in a chaise to Brighton.’
An interval of calm reflection had done much to soften Miss Taverner’s resolve; she could not but admit the justice of her chaperon’s words, and was more than a little inclined to submit gracefully to her wishes. But every tractable impulse, every regard for propriety, was shattered by Peregrine’s speech. She cried out: ‘What? Is this Lord Worth’s verdict? Do I understand that he takes it upon himself to arrange my mode of travel?’
‘Well, yes,’ said Peregrine. ‘That is to say, he has positively forbidden me to take you up in my curricle.’
‘And you? What answer did you make?’
‘I said I saw no harm in it. But you know Worth: I might as well have spared my breath.’
‘You submitted? You let him dictate to you in that insufferable fashion?’
‘Well, to tell you the truth, Ju, I did not see that it was such a great matter after all. And, you know, I don’t wish to quarrel with him just now, because I am in hopes that he will consent to my marriage this summer.’
‘Consent to your marriage! He has no notion of doing so! He told me as much months ago. He does not mean you to be married if he can prevent it.’
Peregrine stared at her. ‘Nonsense! What difference can it make to him?’
She did not answer, but sat tapping her foot for a moment, glowering at him. After a pause she said curtly: ‘You agreed to it, then? You told him you would not drive me to Brighton?’
‘Yes, in effect I did, I suppose. I daresay he may be right; he says you are not to be making yourself the talk of the town.’
‘I am obliged to him. I have no more to say.’
He grinned at her. ‘That’s not like you. What have you got in your head now?’
