“Miss Calverley's brother Chetwynd.”
“I thought so. He is uncommonly handsome.”
“He has been very wild and extravagant; but, I believe, has taken to better ways. I don't know him myself; but my brother Charles, who has seen a good deal of him, gives a very favourable account of him, and says he is an excellent fellow. By-the-by, Charles has been very much in love with Miss Calverley; but, I believe, all that is at an end.”
“And Chetwynd Calverley is not a suitor to Miss Barfleur?” asked Lord Courland.
“That would never be heard of for a moment,” rejoined Scrope. “He has run through all his property; and, as far as I can understand, is entirely dependent upon his step-mother.”
“He may desire to repair his fallen fortunes.”
“He won't repair them by a marriage with Miss Barfleur,” said Scrope, in a decided tone. “But see! they are evidently going away. Shall we join them?”
“By all means,” replied Lord Courland.
So they went up to them, as previously mentioned; and the two gentlemen having been introduced to Chetwynd, with whom they were much pleased, the whole party walked on to Albert Gate, where Lord Courland and Scrope took leave, the others proceeding to Belgrave Square.
Lady Thicknesse had always been noted for her dinners, and she still maintained her reputation. She had a good French cook, and an excellent butler, as we know. Her chef, Monsieur Zephyrus, had been a pupil of the renowned Olivier Givors, of Orleans, and did credit to his master.