It was evident to her sharpened perceptibilities that it was Charley’s doing that Miss Bedford was invited; and she determined Sir Philip Vining should see who was the lady his son wished to be of the party.
Laura’s heart beat quickly, as, with assumed kindness and gentleness of mien, she returned from the schoolroom with Ella, and introduced her to Sir Philip.
“I thought that Miss Bedford would like to thank you herself, Sir Philip, for your kind invitation,” she said, by way of explanation of her sudden act; and then she watched attentively the effect produced.
She was right. Sir Philip was startled, and as he rose to cordially greet and repeat his invitation, he gazed almost wonderingly at the sweet mien and gentle face before him, raising Ella’s hand, and with all the grace of an old courtier, kissing it respectfully, moved by the true homage he felt for so much youth and beauty. But as he released her hand, there was a troubled puzzled look in the old gentleman’s face—a look that was still there when at last he took his leave to go thoughtfully homeward; for now it again struck him that Charley’s impressive demand that the governess should be asked was a little strange, though here was the key.
Sir Philip dismissed the thought that oppressed him, though. Charley was too noble to be moved by any disloyal acts; and as to stooping—pooh! it was absurd! He was growing an old woman, full of nervous fears and fancies; and casting his “whimsies,” as he called them, away, he entered with all his heart into the preparations for the little fête.
And now the day had arrived, and the ladies were assembling in the drawing-room, where Mr Bray and “Mr Maximilian” were already waiting. Mrs Bray had sailed and rustled into the room in a tremendously stiff green brocade dress, to be complimented by her lord as resembling a laurel hedge, and by her son for her May-day aspect and Jack-in-the-green look. But Mrs Bray was satisfied, and that was everything. Her satisfaction was evident by the way in which she swept round the room, making a vortex that caught up the light chairs and loose articles that came within its reach.
“Bai Jove, there, why don’t you mind!” exclaimed Max, as the glossy hat left upon the couch was sent spinning across the room. “Why don’t you sit down?”
Mrs Bray did not reply, but she would not have sat down in that dress, save in the carriage, upon any consideration—at all events, not until after it had been seen at Blandfield.
Max’s hat was made smooth sooner than his temper, and he was still muttering and grumbling when Nelly and her sisters came bounding in, like three tall, thin, peripatetic tulips, followed closely by Laura, glorious with black hair, flashing eyes, amber moiré, and black lace.
Mr Onesimus Bray placed his hands in his pockets and walked smilingly round his daughter, in whom he took immense pride; but the attempt that he made to kiss her was received with a shriek of horror, his daughter darting back beyond his reach, and at the same time bringing forth an oath from her brother’s lips, as she swept the glossy, newly-brushed hat from the marqueterie table whereon it had been placed for safety.