Upon her butler's announcing the arrival of Mr Ravenscar,
Lady Mablethorpe, who had been dozing over a novel from the
Circulating Library, sat up with a jerk, and raised a hand
to her dishevelled cap. 'What's that you say? Mr Ravenscar?
Desire him to come upstairs at once.'
While the butler went to convey this message to the
morningcaller, her ladyship tidied her ruffled person,
fortified herself with a sniff at her vinaigrette, and
disposed herself on the sofa to receive her guest.
The gentleman who was presently ushered into the room was
some twenty years her junior, and looked singularly out of
place in a lady's boudoir. He was very tall, with a good
pair of legs, encased in buckskins and topboots, fine broad
shoulders under a coat of superfine cloth, and a lean,
harsh-featured countenance with an uncompromising mouth and
extremely hard grey eyes. His hair, which was black, and
slightly curling, was cut into something perilously near a
Bedford crop. Lady Mablethorpe, who belonged to an older
generation, and herself continued to make free use of the
pounce-box, in spite of Mr Pitt's iniquitous tax on
hair-powder, could never look upon the new heads without a
shudder. She shuddered now, as her affronted gaze took in
not only her nephew's abominable crop but also the careless
set of his coat, his topboots, the single spur he wore, and
the negligent way he had tied his cravat, and thrust its
ends through a gold-edged buttonhole. She raised the
vinaigrette to her nostrils again, and said in a fading
voice: 'Upon my word, Max! Whenever I clap eyes on you I
fancy I can smell the stables!'
Mr Ravenscar strolled across the room, and took up a
position with his back to the fire. 'And can you?' he
enquired amiably. Lady Mablethorpe chose to ignore this
exasperating question. 'Why, in the name of heaven, only one
spur?' she demanded.
'That's the high kick of fashion,' said Ravenscar.
'It makes you look for all the world like a postilion.'
'It's meant to.'
'And you know very well that you do not care a snap for the
fashion! I beg you will not teach Adrian to make such a
vulgar spectacle of himself !'
Mr Ravenscar raised his brows. 'I'm not likely to put myself
to so much trouble,' he said.
This assurance did nothing to mollify his aunt. She said
severely that the fashion of waiting upon ladies in garments
fit only for Newmarket was not one which she had until this
day encountered.
'I've this instant ridden into town,' said Mr Ravenscar,
with an indifference which robbed his explanation of all
semblance of apology. 'I thought you wanted to see me.'
'I have been wanting to see you these five days and more.
Where in the world have you been, tiresome creature? I drove
round Grosvenor Square, only to find the house shut up, and
the knocker off the door.'
'I've been down at Chamfreys.'
'Oh, indeed! Well, I'm sure I hope you found your Mama in
good health — not but what it's the height of
absurdity to call Mrs Ravenscar your mother, for she's no
such thing, and of all the foolish —'
'I don't,' said Ravenscar briefly.
'Well, I hope you found her in good health,' repeated Lady
Mablethorpe, a trifle disconcerted.
'I didn't find her at all. She is at Tunbridge Wells, with
Arabella.'
At the mention of her niece, Lady Mablethorpe's eyes brightened.
'The dear child!' she said. 'And how is she, Max?'
The thought of his young half-sister appeared to afford Mr
Ravenscar no gratification. 'She's a devilish nuisance,' he
replied.
A shade of uneasiness crossed her ladyship's plump countenance.
'Oh, indeed? Of course, she is very young, and I daresay Mrs
Ravenscar indulges her more than she should. But —'
'Olivia is as big a fool as Arabella,' responded Ravenscar
shortly. 'They are both coming up to town next week. The
14th Foot are stationed near the Wells.'
This grim pronouncement apparently conveyed a world of
information to Lady Mablethorpe. After a somewhat pensive
pause, she said: 'It is time dear Arabella was thinking of
marriage. After all, I was married when I was scarce —'
'She never thinks of anything else,' said Ravenscar. 'The
latest is some nameless whelp in a scarlet coat.'
'You ought to keep her more under your eye,' said his aunt.
'You are as much her guardian as Mrs Ravenscar.'
'I'm going to,' said Ravenscar.
'Perhaps if we could marry her suitably —'
'My dear ma'am,' said Mr Ravenscar impatiently, 'Arabella is
no more fit to be married than if she were still in long
coats! I have it from Olivia that she has been head over
ears in love with no fewer than five aspiring gentlemen in
as many months.'
'Good God, Max! If you don't take care, we shall have some
dreadful fortune-hunter running off with her!'
'It wouldn't surprise me at all.'
Lady Mablethorpe showed slight signs of agitation. 'You are
the most provoking creature! How can you talk in that cool
way about such a disastrous possibility?'
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