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Authors: Georgette Heyer

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BOOK: Charity Girl
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   As for Charlie, she had little doubt that if some dashing beauty were to come within his ken he would have no thoughts to spare for Cherry. Unfortunately, there were no dashing beauties living in the vicinity, and very few unattached young females of any description. Whether it was unfortunate that his particular cronies, none of whom hailed from Hertfordshire, were either disporting themselves at Brighton, or had retired to their parental homes in distant parts of the country, to recover from the ravages to their constitutions and purses caused by too many sprees, jollifications, and revelrouts, was a moot point. Lady Silverdale was for ever saying that if only two or three of his friends lived within visitingdistance they could have ridden over to entertain him; and she even went so far as to suggest to him that he should invite one of them to spend a week or two at Inglehurst. He spurned the notion, saying ungraciously that his friends would think it curst flat to be stuck down in the country with nothing to do all day, and nothing to enliven the evenings but short whist, or half-guinea commerce. Having uttered this disagreeable speech, he found that his sister had raised her eyes from her book and was steadily regarding him from under lifted brows. He coloured, and begged his mother's pardon, saying: 'I didn't mean to be uncivil, ma'am, but you don't understand how it is! I mean – oh, dash it, how could it be possible to invite anyone to visit me when I can't ride, or drive, or play billiards, or – or
anything
?'
   Lady Silverdale saw the force of this argument; but as she continued to regret it for the next twenty minutes Henrietta could hardly blame Charlie for dragging himself up from the sofa, and walking out of the room.
   She was sorry for him, but she had suspected long since that his haggard appearance and slow recovery from his injuries were due not so much to his accident, but to the dissipated life he had been leading, in the company of those choice spirits who, in her private opinion, belonged to a fast, rackety set, and were rapidly ruining his character. The suspicion had been confirmed by the Squire, who had visited him two days after his accident, and had told her bluntly that it was just as well that the young ram-stam
had knocked himself up. He wa
s one of Charlie's trustees, and had been intimately acquainted with both him and his sister all their lives, and he saw no need to mince his words. He said that what Charlie wanted was a long repairing lease. 'Been going the pace, m'dear: only have to look at him to know that! I warned your mother he was too callow to be let loose on the town, but all she would do was to talk gibble-gabble about not keeping him tied to her apron-strings, and having complete confidence in him, and a lot more to that tune. "All very well," I told her, "if the boy's father were alive, or he had elder brothers, or a
male guardian
, to tell him how he should go on, and warn him against the things no female knows anything about, but – " Oh, well! No use crying over spilt milk, so I'll say no more. Though how your father, as shrewd a man as ever I knew, could have allowed her ladyship to bamboozle him into appointing her to be Charlie's guardian – Well, well, my tongue runs away with me, but you're a sensible girl, Hetta, and you won't take it amiss! We must hope that this latest bit of folly will have taught Charlie a lesson!' He refreshed himself with a pinch of snuff, and added, in a heartening tone: 'No reason why he shouldn't turn out to be as good a man as his father! Most codlings take time to find their feet, y'know, Hetta! Best thing for him would be to get himself buckled to a nice girl! He's been philandering after dashing women of fashion, but there's no harm in that! He don't have petticoat affairs with straw damsels, and you may take it from me that's true, for I've had my eye on him, ever since he set up for himself in London!'
   'What can I do, Sir John?' she asked straitly.
   'Can't do anything!' he answered, restoring his snuff-box to the capacious pocket of his riding-coat. 'Just try what you can to keep him amused, so that he don't run off before he's in better point than he is now!'
   With this piece of advice she had to be satisfied, but she found it almost impossible to follow. The only things that amused Charlie were the country-sports which he was debarred from pursuing, and almost every variety of gaming. To do him justice, he enjoyed, for their own sake, such games as offered a challenge to his skill, but Henrietta, who played a good game at chess, had so little card-sense that it bored him to play with her. Cherry, on the other hand, had neither the desire nor the ability to master the intricacies of chess, but she possessed a certain quickness which enabled her to grasp the rules and the objects of any card game he taught her, and to play well enough to make him declare that it wouldn't be long before she became a dashed dangerous opponent.
   'Such a good thing, dearest!' Lady Silverdale confided to her daughter. 'At last we have hit upon something that keeps him tolerably well entertained! Gentlemen, you know, always like to
instruct
one, but they are much inclined to be vexed when people like you and me, my love, show no aptitude, or, at any hand, don't instantly comprehend what they tell us. What a fortunate circumstance it is that dear little Cherry has a turn for cards! I declare I am positively grateful to Desford for having brought her to me!'
   But two days later Cherry's star suffered a temporary eclipse, when the most longstanding of Lady Silverdale's cicisbeos was so ill-advised as to beg her to bestow on him one of the roses she was carrying into the house. With playful gallantry he insisted that she should put it into his buttonhole with her own fair hands, saying that it would smell the sweeter. Since she regarded him in the light of a grandparent, which indeed he was, she complied with his requests, but could not help giggling a little at the fulsome compliment he had paid her. Lady Silverdale, on the other hand, was not amused; and for an anxious moment Henrietta feared that Cherry's popularity had already come to an end. Happily, Lady Silverdale's faithful admirer had the wit to say (after one look at her stiffening countenance) that he was glad Cherry had gone into the house, because he never knew what to say to chits of her age, adding, as he sat down again on the rustic seat beside my lady: 'Now we can be comfortable together, my lady!' This mollified her so much that instead of scolding Cherry she merely warned her not to encourage strange gentlemen to flirt with her. But even this mild reproof made startled tears spring to Cherry's eyes as she exclaimed in trembling accents: 'Oh, no, no! Indeed I didn't! I thought he was being kind to me because you had asked him to be, ma'am!' She added imploringly, as the tears coursed down her face: 'Don't be vexed with me! Pray don't be vexed with me, dear, dear Lady Silverdale! I can't bear you to be displeased with me, for I wouldn't displease you for the world, after all your goodness to me!'
   Much touched by this speech, Lady Silverdale melted completely, to the extent of shedding a few tears herself; and within the hour told her dresser, when that jealous spinster uttered a sly criticism of Cherry, that she was a nasty, illnatured creature, and if she ever again dared to speak of Miss Steane as
That
Miss Steane she would find herself turned off without a character. Upon which, Cardle too burst into tears, but as this display of sensibility was accompanied by lamentations that her own virtues should go unrecognized, and a pious hope that my lady would learn before it was too late who were her real friends, Lady Silverdale was easily able to refrain from succumbing to her own tendency to become lachrymose upon the smallest provocation. She accepted an apology from Cardle, but with chilly dignity; and immediately went off to tell Henrietta that Cardle was growing to be intolerably bumptious, and that if it weren't for the circumstances of her being such an excellent dresser she would be much inclined to get rid of her. Henrietta knew, of course, that nothing would prevail upon her to put this threat into execution, but her mother's account of the painful scene which had taken place, made her heart sink. Nothing, she thought, could have more surely increased Cardle's jealousy of one whom she persisted in believing to be her rival. She embarked on the task of peacemaking, soothing her ruffled parent by agreeing that Cardle was detestably uppish, but saying that she was so devoted to her mistress that she resented it if even Mama's own daughter dared to perform any service for her which she regarded as her sole prerogative. 'Do, pray, say something kind to her, Mama, when she puts you to bed tonight! She'll cry herself to sleep, if she thinks you are still angry with her!'
   These tactics succeeded very well with Lady Silverdale, but Henrietta failed to induce any softening of Cardle's heart towards Cherry. Not even a casual reference to the probability that Cherry's visit would soon come to an end had the least effect on Cardle. 'And the sooner the better, miss!' she said tartly. '
One
thing's certain! The day my lady invites her to
live here is the day I leave this house! I pity you, Mis
s Hetta, having your nose put out of joint by that designing little hussy, and being taken in by her coaxing ways, every bit as much as my poor deluded mistress is! And it's no good telling me I've got no business to say she's a designing hussy, which I wouldn't have presumed to do if you hadn't opened the subject, for I know what I know, and I hope and pray you won't regret your kindness to her!'
   Henrietta went down to dinner fervently hoping, for her part, that Desford's return from Harrowgate would not be long delayed.
   In fact, it was delayed for longer than the Viscount had antici pated, for his journey south was not attended by the good fortune which had made his northward journey so speedy. A series of mishaps befell him, the most serious of which, the loss of a tyre, kept him kicking his heels for a day and a half, this accident occurring on the first day out from Harrowgate, which hap pened to be a Saturday, midway between Chesterfield and Mansfield. By the time the chaise bumped its way into Mansfield it was too late for the necessary repair to be effected, and on the Sunday the premises of both the wheelwright and the blacksmith were found to be closed: the one because its owner was a stern opposer of Sunday Travel; the other because the smith had gone off to spend the day with his married sister. It was not until Monday morning was merging into Monday afternoon that a new tyre was fitted to the wheel, and the Viscount was able to proceed on his way. And then (proving to him his belief that his luck had run out) one of his wheelers went dead lame, so that his progress to the next post-house more nearly resembled a funeral cortège than the swift journey of a gentleman of wealth and fashion. What with this, and several minor hindrances, it was four days before he reached Dunstable, where he decided to put up for the night, since there were still almost thirty miles to cover to Inglehurst, and he had no wish to arrive there long after the dinner-hour.
   So it was not until a fortnight after he had deposited Cherry at Inglehurst that Henrietta, a little before noon, was at last gratified by having him ushered into her presence. Grimshaw announced him, in a sepulchral voice, and she started up out of her chair in front of the writing-desk, exclaiming impulsively: 'Oh, Des, I am so thankful you've come at last!'
   'Good God, Hetta, what's amiss?' he demanded, brought up short in his advance across the room.
   'Nothing! – that is to say, I
hope
nothing, but I am much afraid that things are beginning to go amiss.' He had taken her hands in his, and kissed them both, and was still holding them in his strong clasp, but she gently drew them away, and said, scanning his face: 'Your errand hasn't prospered, has it?'
   He shook his head. 'No. Nettlecombe has become an April-gentleman!'
   Her eyes widened. '
Married?' she asked incredulously
.
   'That's it: leg-shackled to his housekeeper – oh, I beg her pardon! his
lady
-housekeeper!'
   'Ah!' she said, with a twinkle of perfect comprehension. 'No doubt she told you so herself !'
   He grinned at her. 'No, she told Nettlecombe, when
he
told me that he had married his cook. She said she would thank him to remember it, too, and I don't doubt he will. Oh, Hetta, you can't think how much I longed for you to be present at that interview! You must have laughed yourself into stitches!'
   She moved to the sofa, and sat down, patting the place beside her. 'Tell me!' she invited.
   He did tell her, and she appreciated the story just as he had known she would. But he ended on a sober note, when, having described the final scene, in the corridor, he paused for an instant, before saying abruptly: 'Hetta, I
could not thrus
t that unfortunate child into such a household!'
   'No,' she agreed, her own brow as troubled as his. 'Only – Des, what is to be done with her? Mama said, a week ago, that if Nettlecombe repudiated her she had a good mind to keep her here, but – it wouldn't do – I
know it wouldn't do
! It is always the same when Mama takes a violent fancy to anyone! At first she thinks the new treasure perfect, and then she begins to per ceive faults in her – and even when they are quite trivial faults she exaggerates them in her mind, and – which is worse! – remembers them, and adds them on to the next error her wretched favourite falls into!'
BOOK: Charity Girl
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