Dutton, like most careless dressing men, looked best in the regulation simplicity of evening clothes, in which the despotism of fashion curbs all vagaries of fancy. More than one feminine critic smiled involuntary approval of the handsome young sailor, whose easy, slightly unconventional manner, though singular, was not unattractive.
He had been told off to take Lady Geraldine Vane in to dinner, and went to renew acquaintance with her at once. She was dressed in a cloud of blue tulle, and wore a heavy white wreath on her hair, which was very light. Complexion she had none. She was pale without being fair. Her features were irregular, lips thin, with projecting teeth, and eyebrows scarcely apparent at all. Yet these defects were partly redeemed by one sole attraction, a pair of large, light eyes, with a great deal of heart in them. They could glisten with affection and brighten with interest, and were the faithful mirrors of a modest, sensitive, and naturally amiable disposition. But Harry thought her, dress and all, the most colourless object, and longed to offer even a damask rose to break the cold, sickly effect.
There was another young lady present, of a very different type to Lady Geraldine,—not exactly pretty, but evidently aiming at being chic. Her dress was of the latest fashion, and in a slightly audacious style, likewise the arrangement of her hair. She had a pretty, neat figure, and a way of seeing everything through half-shut eyes. This was Harry's cousin Kate.
Perhaps it would be too much to say he was very fond of this young damsel; but, at any rate, he was delighted to find her there. "She is such a jolly girl in a house!" he said to himself.
Kate, then a finished coquette of ten, used to try her hand at flirting with the big schoolboy; and when she had him in a state of helpless adoration, and all his pocket-money was gone in presents to her, would turn him off in favour of his particular friend, who was spending the holidays at Bromley Towers. The two boys blacked each other's eyes in consequence; but the capricious fair only remarked that "they had made such frights of themselves, the sooner they went back to school the better."
As they grew up the intimacy continued. Kate would make use of him as an escort, and allow him to kiss her as a cousin. She also confided to him her love affairs, which at first made him very angry, but afterwards he sometimes suspected their veracity.
Harry could not help watching her at dinner. He saw the amused face of her neighbour, Colonel Dashwood, and sometimes caught her lively repartees.
Lady Geraldine was rather tame, and not even pretty; it was up hill work talking to her, and he was just in the humour for a chaffing match with cousin Kate. After dinner it was just the same: she was surrounded by men, and Lady Geraldine, the only other girl, sat apart, with rather a plaintive, neglected look.
"Why can't she talk to some of those old women?" thought Harry. But he felt bound to try and amuse her, and, after a little desultory conversation, ingeniously evaded the necessity of boring himself further by asking her to sing. She complied very amiably, and, as he stationed himself near to turn over, saw it was one of Bluebell's songs. Lady Geraldine had been well taught, and sang accurately; but, oh! the contrast of the thin, piping voice and expressionless delivery to the rich tones and almost dramatic fervour with which Bluebell poured forth her "native wood-notes wild"! Then Kate came to the front, followed by a devoted cavalier, who took her gloves and fan, and was forthwith despatched in search of a very particular manuscript book somewhere in the half.
En attendant she rattled off a sparkling French chansonnette with such élan that every man in the room, musical or otherwise, was soon round the piano. Her voice was harsh and wiry; but there was an oddity and originality in her style, while she pronounced the words with a vehement clearness, that drove their meaning home to the dullest ear. Mr. Hornby returned with the manuscript book, fastened by a patent lock, and ornamented with an elaborate monogram.