This affair having been settled to the satisfaction of everyone, nothing else of a like nature occurred to disturb the harmony of the visit. The Festive Season was whiled away in the pursuit of various sports and pastimes, including some pheasant shooting, a ball, and a grand phaeton race between Hero and Ferdy’s sister, Lady Fairford, who was accounted a notable whip, and who gaily challenged the bride to a trial of skill. The gentlemen threw themselves into this with great zest, arguing over the conditions of the race, deciding upon a suitable course, and freely exchanging bets. Lady Fairford was naturally the favourite, but Mr Ringwood, feeling his honour to be at stake, backed his own pupil heavily, and gave her some very sage advice. Lady Fakenham said they were a party of sad romps, but raised no real objection to the encounter. It took place within the extensive grounds of Fakenham Manor, and Hero, obeying Mr Ringwood’s instructions to the letter, won it by several lengths. The Viscount was delighted. He said his Kitten was a regular nonpareil, and could drive to an inch; and when she was toasted in extravagant terms at dinner that evening he looked so proud of her that her heart swelled in her bosom, and she could only blush, and shake her head, and look entreatingly at him. So he laughed, and rose to his feet to reply for her. Lady Fairford, who affected a very mannish diction, said that the shine had been taken out of her indeed; Lord Fakenham gave it as his opinion that Letty Lade in her heyday could not have beaten his young friend’s performance; and Mr Ringwood said simply that his pupil had shown herself at home to a peg.
But the race, so innocent and pleasurable in itself, was to lead to disastrous results. It was naturally talked of, and the news that a new and dangerous female whip had arrived in town reached the ears of Lady Royston, the wife of a sporting baronet, and herself no mean handler of the ribbons. She had not until then paid much heed to Sherry’s bride, for she was some years her senior, and had, in any event, little time to waste on her own sex. But, meeting Hero at die house of a mutual acquaintance, she did her the honour of singling her out, making much of her, teasing her a little, and wondering what would be the outcome if Hero were to race against her. The notion took extremely amongst the gallants gathered about the two ladies. Lady Royston’s admirers swore that no one could beat her ladyship, but a gentleman who had been present at Fakenham Manor at Christmas loyally stated his willingness to sport his blunt on Lady Sherry. In a very short space of time what had begun as the merest pleasantry became sober earnest. Lady Royston challenged Hero to race her over a given course, Hero accepted the challenge, judges and timekeepers were elected, rules agreed upon, a date fixed, and bets recorded.
Epsom was to be the rendezvous; and the projected encounter soon became the most talked-of event in society. Hero, dreaming of a victory that would bring that warm look of pride into Sherry’s eyes, and place her amongst the most dashing of the Upper Ten Thousand, was blind to the signs that should have warned her that this exploit was a great deal too dashing to recommend her to the more austere leaders of society. Lady Sefton was out of town; Sherry was hunting in Leicestershire with Mr Ringwood and Lord Wrotham; even Miss Milborne was still at Severn Towers. The only person of experience to draw on the curb-rein was Mrs Bagshot, and since Sherry had freely stigmatized this lady and all her daughters as a parcel of dowds it was not surprising that Hero should not have attended to the severe lecture Cousin Jane read her. Mr Ringwood, returning to London a day later, with a heavy cold in his head, took to his bed, and therefore heard nothing of the Ladies’ Race; but Lord Wrotham, who had accompanied him to town, did hear of it, and although he was not one to set much store by convention, he felt uneasily that it was perhaps not quite the thing for Sherry’s wife to compete publicly in a chariot race. He consulted the Honourable Ferdy on the propriety of it, and Ferdy, who had backed Hero to win without the least misgiving, was immediately struck by the obvious impropriety of the whole affair, and said By Jove, he wondered he should not have thought of it before, and what the deuce was to be done, now that bets had been laid, a date fixed, and every arrangement made? Lord Wrotham agreed that it was very hard to know what ought to be done, but after he had slept on the problem he conceived the notion of consulting Mr Ringwood, in whose solid judgment he had great faith. Mr Ringwood, discovered with his feet in hot mustard and water and a bowl of steaming rum punch at his elbow, had no doubt at all of what ought to be done. Lady Sherry must, he said, be instantly warned that such a start would never do.
“Yes, but who’s to tell her?” demanded George suspiciously.
“You,” replied Mr Ringwood with great firmness.
“No, damme, I won’t! Dash it, Gil, I can’t tell Sherry’s wife how she should conduct herself!”
“Must tell her,” said Mr Ringwood. “I’d tell her myself if I hadn’t this damned cold. Mustn’t let this come to Sherry’s ears. Wouldn’t like it at all.”
Lord Wrotham, eyeing him grimly, favoured him with a pithy and unsolicited opinion of his cold, his morals, and his entire lack of bottom. Mr Ringwood recruited his strength with a liberal allowance of punch, and said briefly: “Tell you what, George: Ferdy must do it.”
“Yes, by God!” exclaimed George. “He’s Sherry’s cousin, and he shall do it!”
But Ferdy, hectored into calling on Hero the very next day, did not prove to be a successful envoy. He employed so much tact that he quite failed to impress Hero with a sense of her wrong-headedness. She laughed at him, assured him that he was as stuffy as Cousin Jane, and went off to change her library book at Richardson’s before he had said a quarter of the things he had rehearsed on his way to Half Moon Street.