False Colours

hope you know me better than to suppose I should do such a selfish thing as that!”

A wry smile twisted his lips. “I’m beginning to, Mama! I wish you will tell me how you expected to settle matters, though, if you didn’t tell Evelyn?”

“Well, I didn’t know then that I should be obliged to,” she explained. “I mean, I never had done so, except now and then, in a gradual way, when I was particularly asked to, so you can imagine what a shock it was to me when Mr Child positively refused —though with perfect civility—to lend me £3000, which would have relieved my immediate difficulties, and even begged me not to overdraw the account by as much as a guinea more—just as if I hadn’t paid the interest, which, I promise you, I did!”

Mr Fancot, considerably bemused, interrupted, to demand: “But what’s this talk of Child, Mama? My father never banked with him!”

“Oh no, but my father did, and your Uncle Baverstock does, of course, now that Grandpapa is dead, so I have been acquainted with Mr Child for ever—a most superior man, Kit, who has always been so very kind to me!—and that is how I come to have an account with him!”

Mr Fancot, his hair lifting gently on his scalp, ventured to inquire more particularly into the nature of his mama’s account with Child’s Bank, As far as he could ascertain from her explanation, it had its sole origin in a substantial loan made to her by the clearly besotted Mr Child. Something in his expression, as he listened in gathering dismay, caused her to break off, laying a hand on his arm, and saying imploringly: “Surely you must know how it is when one finds oneself—what does Evelyn call it?—oh, in the basket!. I collect that has something to do with cock-fighting: so disgusting and vulgar! Kit, haven’t you got debts?”

He shook his head, a rueful gleam in his eyes. “No, I’m afraid I haven’t!”

“None?” she exclaimed.

“Well, none that I can’t discharge! I may owe a trifle here and there, but—oh, don’t look at me like that! I promise you I’m not a changeling, love!”

“How can you be so absurd? Only it seems so extraordinary—but I expect you haven’t had the opportunity to run into debt, living abroad as you do,” she said excusingly.

He gave a gasp, managed to utter: “J-just so, Mama!” and went into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, dropping his head in his hands, and clutching his chestnut locks.

She was not in the least offended, but chuckled responsively, and said: “Now you sound like yourself again! Do you know, for a moment—only for a moment!—you looked like your father? You can’t conceive the feel it gave me!”

He lifted his head, wiping his streaming eyes. “Oh, no, did I? Was it very bad? I’ll try not to do so again! But tell me! When Child would give you no credit didn’t you then tell Evelyn?”

“No, though I did think I might be obliged to, till it darted into my mind, in the middle of the night, to apply to Edgbaston for a loan. Isn’t it odd, dearest, how often the answer to a problem will flash upon one in the night?”

“Applied to Lord Edgbaston?” he ejaculated.

“Yes, and he agreed to lend me £5000—at interest, of course!—and so then I was in funds again. Oh, Kit, don’t frown like that! Are you thinking that I should rather have applied to Bonamy Ripple? I couldn’t, you see, because he had gone off to Paris, and the matter was—was a little urgent!”

For as long as Kit could remember, this elderly and extremely wealthy dandy had run tame about his home, regarded by himself and Evelyn as a fit subject for ridicule, and by their father with indifference. He had been one of Lady Denville’s many suitors, and when she had married Lord Denville he had become her most faithful cicisbeo. He was generally supposed to have remained a bachelor for her sake; but since his figure resembled nothing so much as an over-ripe pear, and his countenance was distinguished only by an expression of vacuous amiability and the snuff-stains on his fat cheeks, not even the more determined brewers of scandal-broth could detect anything in his devotion but food for mockery. The twins, inured to his frequent appearances in Hill Street, accepted him with much the same contemptuous tolerance as they would have felt for an over-fed lap-dog which their mama chose to encourage. But although Kit would have hooted with ribald laughter at the suggestion that any impropriety attached to Sir Bonamy’s fidelity he was far from thinking it desirable that his mother should apply to him for help in her financial difficulties, and he said so.

“Good gracious, Kit, as though I hadn’t often done so!” she exclaimed. “It is by far the most comfortable arrangement, because he is so rich that he doesn’t care how many of my bonds he holds, and never does he demand the interest on the loans he makes me! As for dunning me to repay him, I am persuaded such a notion never entered his head. He may be absurd, and growing fatter every day, but I have been used to depend on him for years, in all manner of ways! It was he who sold my jewels for me, and had them copied, for instance, besides—” She stopped abruptly. “Oh, I wish I had never mentioned him! It has brought it all back to me! That was what made Evelyn go away!”

“Ripple?” he asked, wholly at sea.

“No, Lord Silverdale,” she replied.

“For the lord’s sake, Mama—!” he expostulated. “What are you talking about? What the deuce has Silverdale to say to anything?”

“He has a brooch of mine,” she said, sunk suddenly into gloom. “I staked it, when he wouldn’t accept my vowels, and continue playing. Something told me the luck was about to turn, and so it might have, if Silverdale would but have played on. Not that I cared for losing the brooch, for I never liked it above half, and can’t conceive why I should have purchased it. I expect it must have taken my fancy, but I don’t recall why.”

“Has Evelyn gone off to redeem it?” he interrupted. “Where is Silverdale?”

“At Brighton. Evelyn said there was no time to be lost in buying the brooch back, so off he posted—at least, he drove himself, in his phaeton, with his new team of grays, and he said that he meant to go first to Ravenhurst, which, indeed, he did—”

“Just a moment, Mama!” Kit intervened, the frown returning to his brow. “Why did Evelyn feel it necessary to go to Brighton? Of course he was obliged to redeem your brooch—Silverdale must have expected him to do so!— but I should have supposed that a letter to Silverdale, with a draft on his bank for whatever sum the brooch represented, would have answered the purpose.”

Lady Denville raised large, stricken eyes to his face. “Yes, but you don’t perfectly understand how it was, dearest. I can’t think how I came to be so addlebrained, but when I staked it I had quite forgotten that it was one of the pieces I had had copied! For my part, I consider Silverdale was very well served for having been so quizzy and disobliging about accepting my vowels, but Evelyn said that it was of the first importance to recover the wretched thing before Silverdale discovered that it was only a copy.”

Mr Fancot drew an audible breath. “I should rather think he might say so!”

“But, Kit!” said her ladyship earnestly, “that is much more improvident than anything I should dream of doing! I set its value at £500, which was the value of the real brooch, but the copy isn’t worth a tithe of that! It seems to be quite wickedly extravagant of Evelyn to be squandering such a sum on mere trumpery!”

Mr Fancot toyed for a moment with the idea of explaining to his erratic parent that her view of the matter was, to put it mildly, incorrect. But only for a moment. He was an intelligent young man, and he almost instantly realized that any such attempt would be a waste of breath. So he merely said, as soon as he could command his voice to say anything: “Yes, well, never mind that! When did Evelyn set forth on this errand?”

“Dear one, you cannot have been attending! I told you! Ten days ago!”

“Well, it wouldn’t have taken him ten days to accomplish it, if Silverdale was in Brighton, so it seems that he can’t have been there. Evelyn must have discovered where he was gone to, and decided to follow him.”

She brightened. “Oh, do you think that is what happened? I have been a prey to the most hideous forebodings! But if Silverdale has gone to that place of his in Yorkshire it is very understandable that Evelyn shouldn’t have returned yet.” She paused, considering the matter, and then shook her head. “No. Evelyn didn’t go to Yorkshire. He spent one night at Ravenhurst, just as he told me he would; and then he drove to Brighton. That I do know, for his groom accompanied him; but whether he found Silverdale there or not I can’t tell, because, naturally, Challow doesn’t know. But he returned to Ravenhurst the same day, and stayed the night there. I thought he would do that—in fact, I thought he must have stayed for