“My cousin Laura has been staying with her,” Pen said.
“It’s not the dowager: it is the Lady Rockminster.”
“Indeed!” cried Major Pendennis, when he heard this great name of fashion. “If you have her ladyship’s approval, Lady Clavering, you cannot be far wrong. No, no, you cannot be far wrong. Lady Rockminster, I should say, Arthur, is the very centre of the circle of fashion and taste. The rooms are beautiful indeed!” and the Major’s voice hushed as he spoke of this great lady, and he looked round and surveyed the apartments awfully and respectfully, as if he had been at church.
“Yes, Lady Rockminster has took us up,” said Lady Clavering.
“Taken us up, Mamma,” cried Blanche, in a shrill voice.
“Well, taken us up, then,” said my lady; “it’s very kind of her, and I dare say we shall like it when we git used to it, only at first one don’t fancy being took—well, taken up, at all. She is going to give our balls for us; and wants to invite all our dinners. But I won’t stand that. I will have my old friends and I won’t let her send all the cards out, and sit mum at the head of my own table. You must come to me, Arthur and Major—come, let me see, on the 14th.—It ain’t one of our grand dinners, Blanche,” she said, looking round at her daughter, who bit her lips and frowned very savagely for a sylphide.
The Major, with a smile and a bow, said he would much rather come to a quiet meeting than to a grand dinner. He had had enough of those large entertainments, and preferred the simplicity of the home circle.
“I always think a dinner’s the best the second day,” said Lady Clavering, thinking to mend her first speech. “On the 14th we’ll be quite a snug little party;” at which second blunder, Miss Blanche clasped her hands in despair, and said “O, mamma, vous etes incorrigible.” Major Pendennis vowed that he liked snug dinners of all things in the world, and confounded her ladyship’s impudence for daring to ask such a man as him to a second day’s dinner. But he was a man of an economical turn of mind, and bethinking himself that he could throw over these people if anything better should offer, he accepted with the blandest air. As for Pen, he was not a diner-out of thirty years’ standing as yet, and the idea of a fine feast in a fine house was still perfectly welcome to him.
“What was that pretty little quarrel which engaged itself between your worship and Miss Amory?” the Major asked of Pen, as they walked away together. “I thought you used to au mieux in that quarter.”
“Used to be,” answered Pen, with a dandified air “is a vague phrase regarding a woman. Was and is are two very different terms, sir, as regards women’s hearts especially.