Kate Coventry: An Autobiography

by G. J. Whyte-Melville

"No, no," said she, "my dear; you are at the right age to enjoy yourself. I don't know much about Scamperley, and I have a far more charitable opinion of Lady Scapegrace than the world in general; but I dare say you will have a pleasant party, and I can trust you anywhere with John."

There it was, John again—always John—and I knew exactly what John thought of me; and it made me thoroughly despise myself. I reflected that if I were John, I should have a very poor opinion of my cousin; I should consider her silly, vacillating, easily deceived, and by no means to be depended upon; more than woman in her weaknesses, and less than woman in her affections. "What a character! and what a contempt he must have for me!"

My cousin called to take me to the railway, and to accompany me as a chaperon on a visit to Sir Guy and Lady Scapegrace, who were, as usual, "entertaining a distinguished party of fashionables at their residence, Scamperley." By the way, what an odd phrase that same "entertaining" always sounds to my ear. When I learn that the Marquis of Mopes has been "entertaining" his friends, the Duke of Drearyshire, Count and Countess Crotchet, Viscount Inane, Sir Simon and Lady Sulkes, the Honourable Hercules Heavyhead, etc., etc., at his splendid seat, Boudoir Castle, I cannot refrain from picturing to myself the dignified host standing on his bald head for the amusement of his immovable visitors, or otherwise, forgetful of his usual staid demeanour, performing ludicrous antics, projecting disrespectful "larks," to woo a smile from those stolid countenances in vain! Sir Guy might be "entertaining," too, in this way, but hardly in any other. What a disagreeable man he was! although I could not help acknowledging his good nature in coming to fetch us from the station himself.

As we emerged from the railway carriage, the first object that greeted my eyes was Sir Guy's great gaudy drag, with its three piebalds and a roan. The first tones that smote on my ear were those of his hoarse harsh voice (how it jarred upon my nerves!) in loud obstreperous welcome.

"Thought you'd come by this train, Miss Coventry," shouted Sir Guy from the box, without making the slightest demonstration of descending; "laid Frank five to two on the event.—Done him again, hey, Frank—I knew what you'd be up to; brought the drag over on purpose. Now then, give us your hand; one foot on the box, one on the roller-bolt, and now you're landed. Jones, my boy, get up behind. I've sent the van for servants and luggage. 'Gad! what a pretty maid you've got. Let 'em go, and sit tight!"

So we rolled smoothly out, the piebalds shaking their harness and trotting merrily along, the roan placed on the off-side, for the purpose of sustaining whatever amount of punishment our charioteer thought fit to inflict.

Behold me, then, seated on the box of Sir Guy Scapegrace's drag! a pretty position for a young lady who, during the last month or two, had been making daily resolutions of amendment as to slang conduct and general levity of demeanour. How I hated myself, and loathed the very sight of him, as I looked at my companion. Sir Guy was redder and fatter than when I had seen him last; his voice was more dissonant, his neckcloth more alarming, his jewellery more prominent, his hat closer shaved and the flower in his mouth less like a flower than ever. How came I there? Why, because I was piqued, and hurt, and reckless. I was capable of almost any enormity. John's manner to me in the train had well-nigh driven me mad. So quiet, so composed, so cold, so kind and considerate, but a kindness and consideration such as that with which one treats a child. He seemed to feel he was my superior; he seemed even to soothe and pity me. I would have given worlds to have spoken frankly out to him, to have asked him what I had done to offend him, even to have brought him back to that topic upon which I felt he would never enter more. But it was impossible. I dared not wound that kind, generous heart again—I dared not trust myself. No, he was only "Cousin John" now; he had said so himself. Surely he need not have given me up quite so easily; surely I was worthy of an effort at least: yet I knew it had been my own fault—though I would not allow it even to myself—and this I believe it was that rankled and gnawed at my heart till I could hardly bear my own identity. It was a relief to do everything I could think of to annoy him. To heap self-contempt on my wicked head, to show him I was reckless of his good opinion as of my own, to lay up a store of agonizing reproaches for the future, to gnash my teeth, as it were, and nerve myself into a savage indifference for the present. Nay, there was even a diabolical pleasure in it. Frank Lovell occupied the seat behind me: at another time I might have been gratified at his near neighbourhood, and annoyed to think he should have been paying so long a visit to Scamperley. I was startled to find how little I cared. He leaned over and whispered to me occasionally, and seemed pleased with the marked encouragement I gave him. After all, I could not help liking Frank very much; and was not my cousin at the back of the coach, to witness all that took place? But Sir Guy would not allow me to be "monopolized," as he called it.

"You've lost your roses sadly in London, Miss Coventry," said he, poking his odious face almost under my bonnet, and double-thonging the off-wheeler most unmercifully. "Never mind; I think a woman looks best when she is pale. Egad, you've more colour now, though. Don't be angry, it's only my way; you know I'm your slave."

"Sir Guy don't mean to be rude," whispered Frank, for I confess I was beginning to get indignant; and the Baronet went on,—

"Do you remember our picnic at Richmond, Miss Coventry, and my promise that if ever you honoured me by taking a place on my coach you should drive? Take hold of 'em now, there's a good girl; you ought to know something about the ribbons, and the next four miles is quite straight, and a dead flat."