Mr. Rivenhall, meanwhile, had gone off to visit his betrothed. He arrived at the Brinklow’s somewhat cheerless house in Brook Street still seething with indignation, but so thankless and perverse was his disposition that no sooner did he find his sentiments shared and his strictures on his cousin endorsed than he took an abrupt turn in quite another direction and said much must be forgiven a girl who could handle his grays as Sophy had. From being a female sunk below reproach Sophy became rapidly an unconventional girl whose unaffected manners were refreshing in an age of simpers and high flights.
This was not just to Miss Wraxton’s taste. To be driving about the city unattended did not suit her sense of propriety, and she said so. Mr. Rivenhall grinned. “No, very true, but I suppose it was in some sort my fault. I did put up her back. There’s no harm done; if she could control my grays, as fresh as they were, she’s a capital whip. All the same, if I have anything to say to it, she is not going to set up her own carriage while she remains in my mother’s charge. Good God, we should never know from one moment to the next where she was, for if I know anything of my abominable cousin Sophy, to drive decorously round the Park would not do for her at all!”
“You take it with a composure that does you the greatest credit, my dear Charles.”
“I didn’t!” he interrupted, with a rueful laugh. “She put me in a thundering rage!”
“I am sure it is not wonderful that she should have. To drive a gentleman’s horses without his leave shows a want of conduct that is above the line of being pleasing. Why, even I have never even requested you to let me take the reins!”
He looked amused. “My dear Eugenia, I hope you never will, for I shall certainly refuse such a request! You could never hold my horses.”
If Miss Wraxton had not been so very well bred she would at this tactless remark have returned a pretty hot rejoinder, for she prided herself a little on her handling of the ribbons; and, although she did not drive herself in London, owned an elegant phaeton which she used when staying at her home in Hampshire. As it was, she was obliged to pause for a moment before saying anything. During this brief period she swiftly formed the resolve of demonstrating to Charles, and his objectionable cousin, that a lady reared on the strictest principles of propriety could be quite as notable a horsewoman as any hoyden who had spent her girlhood junketing about the Continent. She had several times been complimented on her seat on a horse and knew her style to be excellent. She said, “If Miss Stanton-Lacy cares for such things, perhaps she would like to ride with me one afternoon in the Park. That will give her thoughts another direction, diverting them from such foolish notions as setting up her own carriage. Let us make up a party, Charles! Dear Cecilia is not fond of the exercise, I know, or I should solicit her to join us. But Alfred will be pleased to go with me, and you may bring your cousin. Tomorrow? Pray beg her to go with us!”
Mr. Rivenhall, an intolerant man, had no affection for his Eugenia’s young brother, and generally made it his business to avoid him, but he was struck by Miss Wraxton’s nobility in promoting an engagement which (he guessed) would afford her little pleasure and at once agreed to it, expressing at the same time his sense of obligation to her. She smiled at him and said that it must be an object with her to exert herself in his interests. He was a not much given to the making of graceful gestures, but at times kissed her hand and said that he knew well how utterly he could rely upon her in every predicament. Miss Wraxton then repeated the remark she had previously made to Lady Ombersley, that she was particularly sorry that, at this crisis in the Ombersley fortunes, circumstance had intervened to postpone her union with him. She rather thought that the indifferent state of dear Lady Ombersley’s health made it impossible for her to manage her household just as Charles could wish. Her kind heart made her perhaps overtolerant, and the languor induced by an ailing constitution rendered her blind to certain defects that could speedily be remedied by a helpful daughter-in-law. Miss Wraxton owned that she had been surprised to learn that Lady Ombersley had allowed herself to be persuaded by her brother — a very odd kind of a man, her papa had told her — to assume the charge of his daughter for an unspecified length of time. She passed from this, in the smoothest fashion, to a gently worded criticism of Miss Adderbury, no doubt an excellent woman, but sadly lacking in accomplishments or in control over her spirited charges. But this was a mistake. Mr. Rivenhall would permit no criticism of Addy, who had guided his own first steps; and as for his uncle, Lord Brinklow’s slighting comment made him instantly bristle in defense of his relative. Sir Horace, he informed Miss Wraxton, was a highly distinguished man, with a genius for diplomacy.
“But not, you will own, a genius for rearing a daughter!” said Miss Wraxton archly.
He laughed at that, but said, “Oh, well! I don’t know that there is any real harm in Sophy, after all!”