“I should have to brush my teeth, Tiddy, if any man dared to kiss me.”
Such talks, infrequent as they might be, stimulated imagination. Lady Selina may have wondered why Miss Tiddle was chosen by Cicely as her particular “chum.” Surely there were—others? But the others lacked personality. Arabella imposed herself. Her liveliness, her audacity, her humour—were irresistible.
Cicely’s first action on becoming a V.A.D. was to write to Miss Tiddle, entreating her to join the staff at Wilverley. Sir Nathaniel Tiddle, after a heartening glance at the peerage and “Who’s Who,” raised no objection. Finally it was arranged that Arabella should “weigh in” with the New Year.
Meanwhile, Cicely was seeing Arthur Wilverley every day.
IV
He “went for her” according to his own methods, not above criticism. The “Ars Amatoria” of Ovid is hardly out of date, but that lively treatise was not to be found in the Court library. Wilverley’s notion of courting would have been termed by his sister—self-expression. The honest fellow wanted Cicely to see him in all his moods and tenses before conjugation. He talked unweariedly about Arthur Wilverley. Beware of branding him too hastily as egoist or prig! He happened to be neither. Like his sister, the welfare of others lay next his heart. At the same time it seemed to be an imperative duty to reveal himself to his future wife.
Cicely was rather impressed at first.
And it is not unreasonable to affirm that he might have got her au premier coup had Grimshaw remained in Poplar. Comparisons between Grimshaw and Wilverley became inevitable. Cicely was not unversed in such mental exercises. At school young ladies of the ripe age of fifteen were invited to compare, in parallel columns, Napoleon with Wellington, Gladstone with Disraeli, Thackeray with Dickens. The prize-winning contributions were published in the school magazine, typed and edited by the overworked Miss Minchin.
Cicely wrote as follows to her dearest Tiddy:
“I do wish you were here, because I’m dying to talk to you about Arthur Wilverley. I’m sure you will think him rather a dear. Anyway, he’s been ever so nice to me. No chocs! He’s not that sort. Plenty of good, sensible talk, which is flattering, isn’t it? I sometimes think that he’s practising on me, trying on sentences which he means to use in public. He’s our star landlord in these parts, and makes poor Mother gasp when he tells her what she ought to do at Upworthy. Of course, he’s frightfully rich. Have I mentioned Mr. Grimshaw to you?” (O Cicely——!) “He’s Dr. Pawley’s new partner, and very clever. But this cleverness doesn’t stick out of him, thank goodness! Arthur and he took a fancy to each other when they first met, because they have a lot in common—better rural conditions, and all that. I told both of them that it was no use hustling and bustling Mother. Mr. Grimshaw bottles himself up; Arthur uncorks himself. Already I seem to know everything he has done and is going to do. I’m afraid that you will say he’s not wildly exciting. Nothing subtle about him. He strikes me as being immensely ‘safe.’ One couldn’t imagine him letting anybody down, or letting himself down. Mr. Grimshaw is better-looking. He might come to grief if things went very wrong with him. Or he might climb to giddy heights.