IV. A VIEW OF THE RING ROAD.
After some little time spent in conversation, Emmeline remarked to Lady Thicknesse:
“As you don't mean to drive out till after luncheon, aunt, and as there is still plenty of time, Mildred and myself would like to take a walk in the Park, if you have no objection. Chetwynd will accompany us.”
“With the greatest pleasure,” he said. “You will see all the world, for people now go to the Park in the morning as well as later in the day.”
“So I understand,” she replied. “May we go, dearest aunt?”
Lady Thicknesse assented, upon which the two girls withdrew to make the necessary preparation for the promenade. In these they were assisted by their new lady's maid, Rose, who had commenced her duties that morning, to their great delight.
As soon as they were ready, they set out with Chetwynd, and took their way along Wilton Street and through Albert Gate to the Serpentine.
The morning being extremely fine, a great many people were about, and, even at that early hour, the banks of that lovely sheet of water were thronged with fashionable pedestrians, while the adjacent rides and drives were crowded with well-mounted equestrians of both sexes, and splendid equipages.
Unaccustomed to such a display, our two country girls were struck with admiration. How could they be otherwise? Passing in review before them, or grouped around, were some of the loveliest and best dressed women in the land; and certainly no better specimens of the youthful aristocracy could be found than might be seen mounted on those thoroughbred steeds, guiding those well-appointed drags and lighter vehicles, or lounging, cigar in mouth, against the iron railing. In its way the scene was very striking.
To the regular frequenters of the Ring, crowded as it was, it was not difficult to decide that the two lovely girls, dressed in deep mourning, were strangers.
Every one was struck by their remarkable beauty, and wondered who they were. Information on this point could not be had, since no one possessed it. Some persons remembered Chetwynd Calverley, who was standing beside the unknown fair ones, and fancied they might be his sisters; and this notion being promulgated, soon obtained general credence.
Among the equestrians was one who instantly recognised them—this was Sir Bridgnorth Charlton.
Riding up to the railing, he made his presence known to Chetwynd, who instantly went to speak to him, and explained that the girls had just come to town, and were staying with Lady Thicknesse in Belgrave Square.
“Delighted to hear it,” said Sir Bridgnorth, bowing and waving his hand to the girls. “Tell them I'll call to-morrow.”
“Why not call to-day?” said Chetwynd. “They will be charmed to see you, and so will Lady Thicknesse. She was talking of you not an hour ago, but had no idea you were in town. Come, if you can.”
“I will,” replied Sir Bridgnorth.
And with another friendly salute to the two girls, he rode on.
Among the loungers collected near the rails when Sir Bridgnorth pulled up, was Romney. His quick ears caught all that was said. He learnt that the two girls were staying with Lady Thicknesse, and that Chetwynd was on intimate terms with her ladyship, together with some other information that he thought might be useful to him.
Though he was quite close at hand, Chetwynd did not observe him, but returned to the young ladies, who were very glad to learn that Sir Bridgnorth meant to call upon them.
It was now almost time to return, but the scene was so lively and amusing that they remained for a few minutes longer.
During this interval rather a smart mail-phaeton passed by slowly, containing a couple of showily-dressed but decidedly pretty girls, and driven by a young man who tried to look a swell, was rather loudly dressed, and seemed very vain of his coachmanship.
In the occupants of this vehicle, Chetwynd, to his great astonishment, recognised some acquaintances of his own—the loudly-dressed young swell, who appeared to think so much of himself, being no other than Tom Tankard, and the young ladies with him Miss Clotilde Tripp and Flora Sicklemore.
How Tom came to be possessed of such an equipage, and such a pair of horses, Chetwynd could not conceive.
Perhaps he had hired them? Perhaps some friendly coachman, whose master was out of town, had lent them to him? In any case, Tom paraded them as his own.
The supercilious air with which he gazed around, and which only excited ridicule and contempt, though he thought otherwise, was intended to convey that impression. He fancied people were staring at him in admiration, when they were merely laughing at him as a fool.
At last his eyes alighted on the tall figure of Chetwynd, conspicuous amid the throng, and he gave him a familiar nod; but Chetwynd pretended not to see it.
Enraged by the slight, Tom turned to the girls with him, and said:
“There's that tall fellow whom you saw dressed up as a footman at our house. He chooses to cut me, but I'll be even with him. He shan't 'cut and come again,' I can tell him!”
“Perhaps he didn't see you,” suggested Clotilde.
“Oh, yes, he did!” rejoined Tom. “He couldn't help seeing me, since he was looking this way at the time. Never mind; I'll serve him out!”
“What two pretty girls those are with him!” cried Flora.
“Not to compare with two others close at hand!” rejoined Tom, gallantly.
“Ah, we can't accept that compliment, Mr. Tom,” said Flora. “Those are two very stylish young ladies, indeed.”
“I can't see it,” remarked Tom. “I don't admire women in black. I like something bright—something in your style, Miss Flora.”
“Or in mine?” suggested Clotilde.
“Exactly,” said Tom. “I hope that fellow won't tell the guv'nor that he saw me driving you in the Park.”
“Good gracious! I hope not!” exclaimed both girls.
“But he's not likely to see Mr. Tankard, is he?” observed Clotilde.
“Don't know—just possible! If he should, there'll be a jolly row. The guv'nor 'll never rest till he's found it all out.”
“Well, don't let us spoil our pleasure by thinking about it,” said Flora. “It's very charming! never enjoyed anything so much in my life as this drive!”
“Not even our drive to Hampton Races?” said Tom, with a knowing look.
“Not even that,” she replied.
“I'm sure we shall always feel indebted to you for a most delightful day, Mr. Tom!” said Clotilde.
“Well, it is pleasant,” cried Tom. “I like to see all these fine folks, and I like to be seen myself, but I don't like to be cut. Confound that fellow! I can't forget him!”
“That's not like you, Tom, to let such a small thing worry you,” observed Clotilde.
“You're right,” said Tom. “My maxim is—never bother yourself if you can help it. And now let us move on a little faster.”