“And if she is beautiful, that will add to the difficulty,” said Mrs. Atheling.
“I have never seen Miss Vyner. I cannot tell you whether she is beautiful or not so. She joins us in London, and my first duty will be to present her at the next drawing-room.”
A little sensitive pause followed this statement,–a pause so sensitive that the Duchess divined the desire in Mrs. Atheling’s heart; and Mrs. Atheling felt the hesitancy and wavering inclination weighing her wish in the thoughts of the Duchess. A sudden, straight glance from Mrs. Atheling’s eyes decided the question.
“I should like to present Miss Atheling at the same time, if you have no objection,” she added. And Mrs. Atheling’s pleasure was so great, and her thanks so candid and positive, that the Duchess accepted the situation she had placed herself in with apparent satisfaction. Yet she wondered why she had made the offer. She felt as if the favour had been obtained against her will. She was half afraid in the very moment of the proposal that she was doing an imprudent thing. But when she had done it, she never thought of withdrawing from a position she must have taken voluntarily. On the contrary, she affected a great interest in the event, and talked of “the ceremonies Miss Atheling must make herself familiar with,” of the probable date at which the function would take place, and of the dress and ornaments fitting for the occasion. “And the young people must meet each other as soon as possible,” she continued.
Then the gentlemen entered the drawing-room, and the groups scattered. The Duchess left Mrs. Atheling; and Lord Exham took the chair she vacated. And the happy mother was far too simple, and too single-hearted to keep her pleasure to herself. She told Exham of the honour intended Kate, and was a little dashed by the manner in which he heard the news. He was ashamed of it himself; but he could not at once conquer the feeling of jealousy which assailed him. It was the first time that the image of Kate had been presented to him in company with any but Piers Exham; and it gave him real suffering to associate it with the attention and admiration her beauty was sure to challenge from all and sundry who would be present at a court drawing-room. However, he made the necessary assurances of pleasure, and Mrs. Atheling was not a woman who went motive hunting. She took a friend’s words at their face value.
Of course Kate was delighted, and the Squire perhaps more so; for though he pretended to think it “all a bit of nonsense,” he opened his purse-strings wide, and told his wife and daughter to “help themselves.” So the last few days at Atheling were set to the dreams, and hopes, and expectations of that gay social life which always has a charm for youth. The clash of party warfare, the wailing of want, the insistent claims of justice,–all these voices were temporarily hushed. They had become monotonous and, to Kate, suddenly uninteresting. What was the passing of a Reform Bill to a girl of nineteen, when there was such a thing as a court drawing-room in expectation?
It made her restless and anxious during the two weeks occupied by their removal from Atheling, and their settlement in London. And though the great city was full of wonder and interest, and the new splendours of the Vyner mansion very satisfactory, yet she could not enjoy these things until there was some token that the Duchess remembered, and intended to fulfil her promise. If only Piers had been in London! But Piers had been detained in Yorkshire, and was not expected until the formal opening of Parliament, so that Kate could only speculate, and wish, and fear, and in so doing discount her present, and forestall her future pleasures. So prodigal is youth of happiness and feeling!
However, at the end of October, Mrs. Atheling received a letter from the Duchess. It reminded her of the drawing-room, and asked Miss Atheling’s presence that evening in order to meet Miss Vyner, and consult with her about the dresses to be worn. The visit was to be perfectly informal; but even an informal visit to Richmoor House was a great event to Kate. And how pretty she was when she came into her father’s and mother’s presence, dressed for the occasion! Mrs. Atheling looked at her with a smile of satisfaction, and the Squire instantly rose, and took her on his arm to the waiting carriage. This carriage was the Squire’s pet extravagance, and there was not a more splendidly-appointed equipage in London. Its horses were of the finest that Yorkshire breeds; the servant’s liveries irreproachable in taste; and when he saw his daughter’s white figure against its rich, blue linings he was satisfied with his outlay.
Richmoor House was soon reached, and Kate looked with wonder at its noble frontage, and its stone colonnades. How much greater was her wonder when she stepped into its interior vestibule! This vestibule was eighty-two feet long, by more than twelve feet wide; it was ornamented with Doric columns and fine carvings, and at each end there was a colossal staircase. Up one of these stately ways Kate was conducted into a gallery full of fine paintings, and forming the corridor on which the one hundred and fifty rooms appropriated to the use of the family opened. Here, one servant after another escorted her, until she was left with a woman-in-waiting, who led her into a tiring-room and then assisted Kate’s own maid to remove her mistress’s wrap and hood, and tie in pretty bows her white satin sandals. The simple girl felt as if she was in a dream, and she accepted all this attention with the calm composure of a dream-maiden. It was just like one of the old fairy tales she used to live in. She was an enchanted princess in an enchanted castle, and all she had to do, was to be passive in the hands of her destiny. Transient and illogical as this feeling was, it gave to her manner a singular air of serene confidence, and the Duchess noticed and approved it. She was relieved at once from any apprehension of anything malapropos in The Presence.
She went forward to meet Kate, and was both astonished and pleased at her protegée’s appearance. The white llama in which she was gowned, its simple trimming of white satin, and its pretty accessories of white slippers and gloves satisfied both the pride and the taste of the Duchess. Any less attention to costume she would have felt as a want of respect towards herself; any more extravagant display would have indicated vulgar display and a due want of subordination to her own rank and age. But Kate offended no feeling, and she took her by the hand and led her down the long room. At its extremity there was a group of girls: one was standing; the others were sitting on a sofa before her. The eyes of all were fastened on Kate as she approached; but she was not disturbed by this scrutiny. She had all the strength and assurance which comes from a proper and moderate toilet; and she was even competent to do her own share of observation.