False Colours

several days, for he told me that he had matters to attend to at home, and might be absent from London for perhaps as much as a sennight. But he left Ravenhurst the very next morning, and under the most peculiar circumstances!”

“In what way peculiar, Mama?”

“He took only his night-bag with him, and he sent Challow back to London with the rest of his gear, saying that he had no need of him.”

“Oh!” said Kit. His tone was thoughtful, but not astonished. “Did he tell Challow where he was going?”

“No, and that is another circumstance which makes me very uneasy.”

“It need not,” he said, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Did he send his valet back to London too? I take it that Fimber is still with him?”

“Yes, and that is another thing that cuts up my peace! He wouldn’t take Fimber to Sussex: he said there was no room for him in the phaeton, which is true, of course, though it set up all Fimber’s bristles. I must own that I wished he might have found room for him., because I know Fimber will never let him come to harm. Challow is very good too, but not—not as firm! It is the greatest comfort to know that they are both with Evelyn when he goes off on one of his starts.”

“I’m sure it is, Mama,” he said gravely.

“But that’s just it!” she pointed out. “Neither is with him! Kit, it’s no laughing matter! I’m persuaded that some accident has befallen him, or that he’s in some dreadful scrape! How can you laugh?”

“I couldn’t, if I thought it was true. Now, come out of the dismals, Mama! I never knew you to be such a goose! What do you imagine could have happened to Evelyn?”.

“You don’t think—you don’t think that he did see Silverdale, and quarrelled with him, and—and went off alone that day to meet him?”

“Taking his night-bag with him in place of a second! Good God, no! You have put yourself into the hips, love! If I know Evelyn, he’s gone off on a private affair which he don’t want you to know anything about! You would, if he had taken Fimber or Challow with him, and he’s well aware of that. They may be a comfort to you, my dear, but they’re often a curst embarrassment to him! As for accidents—fudge! You’d have been apprised of anything of that nature: depend upon it, he didn’t set out to visit Silverdale without his card-case!”

“No, very true!” she agreed. “I never thought of that!” Her spirits revived momentarily, only to sink again. Her beautiful eyes clouded; she said: “But at such a moment, Kit! When so much hinges upon his presenting himself in Mount Street tomorrow! Oh, no, he could not have gone off on one of his adventures!”

“Couldn’t he?” said Kit. “I wonder! I wish you will tell me a little more about this engagement of his, Mama. You’ve said that there has been no time for him to tell me about it himself, but that’s doing it very much too brown, my dear! There might have been no time for a letter to have reached me, telling me that he had come to the point of offering for this girl; but he never mentioned her name to me in the last letter I had from him, far less the possibility that he would shortly be married; and that, you know, is so unlike him that if anyone but you had broken this news to me I should have thought it a Banbury story. Now, I know of only one reason which would make Evelyn withhold his confidence from me.” He paused, his eyelids puckering, as though he were trying to bring some remote object into focus. “If he were in some fix from which I couldn’t help him to escape—if he were forced into doing something repugnant to him—”

“Oh, no, no, no!” cried Lady Denville distressfully. “It is not repugnant to him, and he was not forced into it! He discussed it with me in the most reasonable manner, saying that while he was resolved on matrimony, he believed it would suit him best to—to enter upon a contract in the old-fashioned way, without violence of feeling on either side. And I must say, Kit, that I think he is very right, for the females he falls in love with are never eligible—in fact, excessively ineligible! Moreover, he is so very prone to fall in love, poor boy, that it is of the first importance to arrange a match for him with a sensible, well-bred girl who won’t break her heart, or come to points with him, every time she discovers that he has a chère amie.”

“Of the first importance—!” he exclaimed. “For Evelyn, of all men! I collect that if she is sufficiently indifferent and well-bred nothing else is of consequence! She may be bran-faced or swivel-eyed or—”

“On the contrary! It goes without saying that there must be nothing in her appearance to give Evelyn a disgust of her; and also that each of them should be ready to like the other.”

He sprang up, ejaculating: “Oh, good God!” He glanced down at her, his eyes very bright, but not with laughter. “You made such a marriage, Mama! Is that what you wish Evelyn to do? Is it?”

She did not answer for a moment; and when she did speak it was with a little constriction. “I didn’t make such a marriage, Kit. Your father fell in love with me. The Fancots said he was besotted, but nothing would turn him from his determination to marry me. And I—well, I was just seventeen, and he was so handsome, so exactly like the heroes schoolgirls dream of—! But the Fancots were right: we were very ill-suited.”

He said, in an altered tone: “I didn’t know—I beg your pardon, Mama!—I shouldn’t have spoken to you so. But you haven’t told me the truth. All this talk of Evelyn’s being resolved on matrimony, as though he were four-and-thirty rather than four-and-twenty—! Flummery!”

“I have told you the truth!” she declared indignantly. She read disbelief in his face, and amended this statement. “Well, some of it, anyway!”

He could not help smiling at this. “Tell me all the truth! A little while ago you said it was my uncle’s fault— also your fault—but in what conceivable way could either of you make it necessary for Evelyn to contract a marriage of convenience? Evelyn doesn’t depend on my uncle for his livelihood, nor is he answerable to him for anything he may choose to do! The only power my uncle has is to refuse to permit him to spend any part of his principal—if he should wish to do so!”

“But that is just what he does wish to do!” she replied. “At least, I can’t suppose that he wishes to do it precisely—except that it would be a great relief to him to be rid of all the worry and bother of my debts.”

“Your debts! But—Is Miss Stavely an heiress? and is Evelyn crazy enough to imagine that he will be able to dispose of her fortune as he pleases? It isn’t possible!”

“No, and he wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing, if it were! He means to settle my debts out of his own fortune.

He says—and you did too, Kit!—that Papa should have done so, and that it is just the same as if he had. And also he says that he is determined your uncle shall know nothing about it. So he went to see him, to try if he couldn’t prevail upon him to end the Trust—putting it on the score of his age, and how much he dislikes being treated as though he were a schoolboy. Which is true, Kit!”

“Yes, I know it is. What had my uncle to say to that?”

“Well, he didn’t say very much to Evelyn—only that he would be glad to be rid of the Trust, and would willingly end it the instant Evelyn had finished sowing his wild oats. But afterwards he came to see me, and although he was very stiff, I do him the justice to acknowledge that he discussed the matter with far less of that reserve of his which I find so daunting! He spoke very kindly of Evelyn, saying that he has many excellent qualities, and that in spite of being far too heedless and rackety he doesn’t commit horrid excesses, or frequent low company, which (Henry says) has become the fashion amongst a certain set of young men. And then he said he would be happy to see him married to some female of character, since he had been brought to believe that marriage would be the making of him, and cause him to become more settled and responsible— though not, he fears, such a pattern-card as you!”

“Much obliged to him! What can have possessed him to say anything so foolhardy? Did you give him snuff?”

She laughed. “No, I was more inclined to embrace him for holding you in esteem. Besides, I know it to be true. Oh, I don’t mean that you are a pattern-card of virtue, so you needn’t look so—so —”

“Dog-sick?” suggested her ungrateful offspring.