The Determined Bachelor (19 page)

“We are all of us fallible, Sir.”

“Yes: but some of us ought not to be so. And when we are, we ought to be capable of accepting our errors. You yourself very justly criticized my shortcomings not long ago, and I have struggled to improve. But princes may not be so easily berated, nor are they inclined to accept advice so humbly.”

Anne's smile broadened: She did not know whether this conversation was about Sir Basil or the Prince, but in either case, the word
humble
did not seem very appropriate. Sir Basil was watching her keenly.

“You think me disloyal? Or perhaps only arrogant? My effort was real, you know, even if it was not as effective as you might have wished.”

“Neither, Sir—I think you neither arrogant nor disloyal. As to the Prince, I cannot say, nor could have any way of understanding your feelings. As to
you
, Sir——”

“Ah!”

“As to you, sir,” continued Anne, firmly, “I would have spoken of my own accord, had I not supposed you would
think I was rude in doing so. It is not my place to criticize you, Sir. I only meant to speak on my pupil's behalf. And you have done much more than I asked.”

Sir Basil looked pleased, almost threatened to break into a smile, but seeming to remember himself, replied formally:

“Thank you, Miss Calder. It is not such a frightening task as I thought it might be.”

Now it was Anne's turn to wish to grin, and to suppress the urge.

“Children
can
be rather frightening, Sir. They always speak their minds, which is an addiction grown-ups seem to be rid of.”

“
Some
grown-ups, Miss Calder.”

“If you mean that I spoke out of turn, Sir Basil, I am heartily sorry for it, and should be
more
sorry still if it had been to no avail. But Nicole has improved so much since you have taken the trouble to be affectionate with her, that I can only be glad I spoke out of turn, no matter how angry it made you.”

Sir Basil's expression, observed carefully by Anne, gave no indication of his feelings. He said nothing for a moment, and then, taking a chair and very deliberately turning it a little toward the young woman's, sat down.

“It did not make me angry, Miss Calder. “I very seldom lose my temper.”

The Baronet's fingers drummed upon the arm of his chair.
Here is the infallible ambassador again
, thought Anne, rather sorry that the moment of honesty had passed.

“I apologize, Sir. I did not mean to imply that you did.”

“You may imply what you like.”

Did a trace of a smile appear at the corners of his mouth? Anne thought for an instant that one had.

“I may imply nothing, Sir: I am a governess.”

“Yes, that is true. You ought to say nothing, unless you are spoken to. Certainly not as regards anything save your pupil.'

Anne bowed her head. She felt a flush creep up her cheeks, whether of mortification or anger, or a combination of both, it was impossible to tell.

“I hope you will forgive me, Sir. In the future I shall confine myself to that subject. I hope I have learned my lesson.”

“I hope, indeed, that you have not!”

Anne looked up, astonished. Sir Basil looked grave.

“Sir?”

He did not meet her eyes when he spoke, but stared off into the air.

“I hope you have not learned your lesson. However unbecoming such lectures may be in a governess,
I
find them quite refreshing. I am not used to governesses, Miss Calder—and have no prejudice in favour of silent ones. I do, however, have a strong prejudice against dishonesty. I see it about me everywhere—particularly, if you will excuse me, in members of your sex. But even men are not exempt from that great weakness.”

“Even men, Sir?”

Sir Basil did not appear to notice the slight inflection of sarcasm.

“Yes: it is a huge disappointment to me, to find that so many of my colleagues are more bent upon being thought well of than they are upon speaking the truth. Do you think me foolish? I ought to have grown used, after all these years, to the vanity of mankind.”

Anne could not help smiling. Here was a view of the Baronet she had never glimpsed, or perhaps she had only failed to observe. The man who sat before her now, staring pensively off into space with a wry smile, was another being altogether from the one she had been growing used to.

“No, Sir,” she declared earnestly, “I do not think you foolish at all.
Some
people may think it is wise to be untruthful. I do not, nor could I condemn anyone for feeling as you do.”

Sir Basil turned toward her slowly, with the first really ingenuous smile he had ever bestowed upon her. There was nothing of irony in it, nor of formality. It was the smile, interested and a little eager, of a friend.

“I hoped you would say so!”

Now Anne smiled, and looked down into her lap. Something prevented her from meeting those eyes after that first, brief contact. She coughed, and there followed an awkward silence. Anne continued staring into her lap, and after a moment, Sir Basil took his eyes away from her and the old formality came back into his voice.

“I suppose you think it very odd that I should speak to you like this, Miss Calder.”

Anne did not know what to say, and said nothing. Evidently interpreting her silence as a reproof, Sir Basil went on:

“I am aware of how odd you must think me.”

“I do not think you odd, Sir Basil.”

It was evident, however, from the Baronet's expression,
that he regretted having spoken so openly. In truth, he did not know what had made him do so. He had been irritable and impatient since coming back to London, and his own behaviour in the last days had amazed himself more than anyone. Lady Cardovan had remarked it upon two separate occasions, and he had dismissed the charge. But what in the name of heaven had come over him? This evening, for instance, he had gone straight from the Foreign Office to the Duchess of Lisleford's, where a party of pompous fools had been gathered together. He had been instantly attacked for interfering with the good of the nation by endeavouring to stop the French slave trade, an action which had been introduced by the English some years before. Sir Basil was too seasoned a diplomat to mind the ranting of boors, and on any other evening, he would have smiled calmly and ignored them. But this evening he had done what he prided himself upon never doing: He had lost his temper, and, rising in the midst of dinner, had made his excuses and left the party. And now, here he was baring his breast to a young woman he had known for scarcely a fortnight, and a governess besides. What could Miss Calder know or care about his troubles? What on earth had possessed him to send for her in the first place? He remembered having some vague idea of inquiring into his ward's progress. He was aware that even that had been simply an excuse to seek Miss Calder's approval of his conduct with the child. Bah! What an idiot he must seem to her! And she was a most appealing young woman—irritatingly argumentative, to be sure, but refreshingly devoid of any ulterior motives, a thing with which every
other
female upon earth seemed heavily encumbered. Perhaps that was why he enjoyed her company. In truth, it was not nearly so bad as he had envisioned to have a female in the house. He had come rather to look forward to his evenings with Miss Calder and the child. The afternoon, when he and Nicole had come from church and gone off on that spontaneous tour of the city, he had been more light-hearted than he remembered feeling since his own youth. It had even crossed his mind that fatherhood was not such an awful state as it had always struck him, but rather a reincarnation of sorts. A great many things were beginning to make sense to him which had always been mysteries before. Perhaps Diana had been right: clever woman! And he supposed she was delighted at seeing him so knocked about now, after teasing him so cruelly about his self-complacency. Miss Calder, however, need not be burdened
with any of this. He might at least spare
her
the embarrassment of his own uncertainties.

Rising from his chair abruptly, the Baronet walked to the fireplace again—he was devilish restless.

“You need not say so, Miss Calder. In truth, I do not know
myself
, of late. I suppose it is a great shock to find myself suddenly responsible for the welfare of another human being. You must forgive my behaving so strangely. And please excuse me for burdening you with my troubles.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Sir! On the contrary, I am flattered that you should wish to speak to me.”

Sir Basil grunted, and said nothing.

“All the same—it is not really fair to you. And besides, I did not call for you in order to bemoan the state of our government. In point of fact—” Sir Basil had luckily been rescued by an inspiration—“in point of fact, I sent for you to ask a favour.”

“Yes, Sir Basil?”

“I had hoped—ah—rather, I have just discovered that I shall not be at liberty to take Nicole to Carlton House tomorrow.”

“Oh, dear, sir! She shall be terribly disappointed! Still, I suppose, she will get over it. . . .”

“Oh, I had not meant to disappoint her! I only hoped that
you
might take my place.”

“Take your place, Sir!”

“It will not be too inconvenient?” Sir Basil glanced at her nervously.

“Heavens, no! But, Sir Basil, would that be correct? Ought not Lady Cardovan to go?”

Lady Cardovan! Why, how stupid he had been—but another second reminded him that Diana never went abroad, and detested Carlton House in any case.

“No, no—she won't go, either. And I have an urgent matter to attend to with the French Ambassador. So Nicole's only hope must be you, Miss Calder. It shan't be too awful: although I have heard these affairs are enjoyed more by His Highness than anyone else. Still, Nicole shall have the benefit of a glimpse of the Prince, and even
you
ought to approve of that.”

“I think,” said Anne, endeavouring to hide her smile, “that I shall bear up perfectly well. And it
is
a sort of educational experience, is it not?”

“Absolutely! Well put, Miss Calder'. And I shall expect a detailed report from you upon the child's conduct.”

“I think you are more likely to get a detailed report of the Prince's conduct from the child, Sir Basil.”

The Baronet smiled.

“Then so be it, Miss Calder.”

Chapter XIV

The visit to Carlton House elicted so many different reports, in fact, and from so many different sources, that it was for some weeks the subject of debate in drawing rooms from Devonshire to London. Let us simply record now, however, that so many of the Prince's guests were destined in the space of three hours to be stunned, enlightened, and disappointed by the events of the afternoon, that it may in truth be said to have changed the courses of several lives. The Prince himself was moved to remark to Lady Jersey at the end of the festivities that Sir Basil Ives' ward was the belle of the whole party.

“I never saw a more dazzling child in all my life. Do you know what she asked of me? She inquired whether my papa was feeling better! Heh, heh! You never saw so many faces fall at once!

“
I
thought she was a horrid little thing,” snapped Lady Jersey. “She ought to be taught to hold her tongue. Fancy being allowed to say anything of the kind!”

“I make no doubt she did not ask permission first, my dear,” responded His Highness. “That is what I adore about children. They say everything they oughtn't, and never anything they ought. It is mightily refreshing.”

Lady Jersey was in a shrewish mood, and having been reminded often enough herself to hold her tongue, would not deign to reply. She did, however, impart a piece of gossip she had heard which made the Prince's eyes grow round, and brought forth a chortle.

“Ha! Ha! Sir Basil Ives! I don't believe you!”

Lady Jersey smirked and said that it was true.

“Ha! Ha! I never would have dreamt it of him! I thought he hated women, ha ha!”

“Still waters, don't you know,” murmured Lady Jersey, pursing her lips.

“Lady Cardovan, I suppose?”

My Lady Jersey would not venture this far out loud, although she was secretly convinced of it. She liked to keep up her own appearance of being above such things, and only sniffed.

“Well, Your Highness—I suppose she is not
quite
so saintly as she would have us believe.”

“Well, well! One never knows, does one?”

And the Prince glanced grinning at his mistress, who certainly looked like the most virtuous woman in England.

Nicole herself gave a very different account to her guardian, when he inquired into the events of the afternoon that same evening at supper. The little girl would seem to have aged almost overnight, and from the wide-eyed child who had been led trembling by the hand down the royal pathway to the royal teahouse, she had been transformed suddenly into a composed young woman, conscious of her social success, and full of new perceptions.