really, my dear, if Cressida Calverton did not mend her ways, everyone would be saying that she was fast.
Meanwhile, Rossiter had gone straight across the room to where Lady Constance, having secured an eligible if not exciting partner for Kitty in the person of the very young and bashful third son of a baronet, had seated herself beside one of those same censorious dowagers upon a small gilt rout chair, having determined to keep vigilant watch over her charge during the remainder of the evening. Cressida, who, although appearing wholly absorbed in her flirtation with her princeling, was perfectly aware of Rossiter’s movements, was astonished to see him halt before Lady Constance’s chair and, after parleying for a few moments with her and her companion, promptly draw up a third chair and seat himself beside them. The two middle-aged ladies, she could see, were making a valiant attempt to maintain their air of virtuous disapproval in the face of this frontal attack by the Captain; but they were no more immune than would the young ladies they were chaperoning have been to the flattery of having been so pointedly singled out by the lion of the evening, and they were soon smiling and engaging in what appeared to be a very comfortable conversation à trois.
The set ended; Cressida was claimed by Lord Langmere, who came, as he had promised, to take her down to supper; and the next she saw of Rossiter he was, astoundingly, seated in the supper-room in a group comprising Lady Constance and the dowager to whom he had been talking in the ballroom, the dowager’s daughter, Captain Harries, Kitty, and the now perfectly tongue-tied third son of a baronet who had been dancing with her.
“Birds of a feather,” said Addison, pausing beside the chair in which Lord Langmere had installed Cressida while he went to fill a plate for her, “do not, it appears, always flock together. I refer, my dear Cressy, to your friend Captain Rossiter and that extraordinarily motley crew he has gathered round him. Three sucking babes, a pair of dowagers, and poor Captain Harries, who is regarding your Miss Chenevix rather as if he were a devout Muslim discovering his first houri at the gates of Paradise. If I am mixing my metaphors rather badly, it is because I have been reduced to a state of utter confusion by this grouping. Can you explain it to me? Dolly, I fear, is about to scratch Lady Con’s eyes out with jealousy, and in point of fact I believe it may well come to pistols at twenty paces on Paddington Green between them if Lady Con does not relinquish Rossiter to her soon.”
To Cressida’s relief, Lord Langmere’s arrival at that moment with a pair of plates abundantly heaped with the creams, aspics, and Chantillies provided for her guests by Lady Dalingridge prevented her from answering this speech directly, and she applied herself assiduously to her plate while Addison and several other members of her coterie who had also stopped beside her chair on their way to the buffet made witty conversation over their hostess’s disappointment and Rossiter’s odd choice of supper companions.
Her own mind was in a puzzle. Could it be possible, she asked herself, that Rossiter had indeed been so taken by Kitty that he was willing to endure what must be the decidedly dull conversation of his present companions for the sake of being near her? The girl was well enough, certainly, and she as certainly appeared to advantage that evening in the shimmering spider-gauze gown; but she was not a Beauty, and her quiet stye of good looks was not the sort to strike a man like a coup de foudre.
The only feasible explanation of the situation appeared to be the one presented to her earlier by Lord Langmere—that Rossiter’s intention in returning to England had been to settle himself in life, and that for this purpose he was looking about him as expeditiously as possible for a suitable bride.
That this
Meanwhile, Rossiter had gone straight across the room to where Lady Constance, having secured an eligible if not exciting partner for Kitty in the person of the very young and bashful third son of a baronet, had seated herself beside one of those same censorious dowagers upon a small gilt rout chair, having determined to keep vigilant watch over her charge during the remainder of the evening. Cressida, who, although appearing wholly absorbed in her flirtation with her princeling, was perfectly aware of Rossiter’s movements, was astonished to see him halt before Lady Constance’s chair and, after parleying for a few moments with her and her companion, promptly draw up a third chair and seat himself beside them. The two middle-aged ladies, she could see, were making a valiant attempt to maintain their air of virtuous disapproval in the face of this frontal attack by the Captain; but they were no more immune than would the young ladies they were chaperoning have been to the flattery of having been so pointedly singled out by the lion of the evening, and they were soon smiling and engaging in what appeared to be a very comfortable conversation à trois.
The set ended; Cressida was claimed by Lord Langmere, who came, as he had promised, to take her down to supper; and the next she saw of Rossiter he was, astoundingly, seated in the supper-room in a group comprising Lady Constance and the dowager to whom he had been talking in the ballroom, the dowager’s daughter, Captain Harries, Kitty, and the now perfectly tongue-tied third son of a baronet who had been dancing with her.
“Birds of a feather,” said Addison, pausing beside the chair in which Lord Langmere had installed Cressida while he went to fill a plate for her, “do not, it appears, always flock together. I refer, my dear Cressy, to your friend Captain Rossiter and that extraordinarily motley crew he has gathered round him. Three sucking babes, a pair of dowagers, and poor Captain Harries, who is regarding your Miss Chenevix rather as if he were a devout Muslim discovering his first houri at the gates of Paradise. If I am mixing my metaphors rather badly, it is because I have been reduced to a state of utter confusion by this grouping. Can you explain it to me? Dolly, I fear, is about to scratch Lady Con’s eyes out with jealousy, and in point of fact I believe it may well come to pistols at twenty paces on Paddington Green between them if Lady Con does not relinquish Rossiter to her soon.”
To Cressida’s relief, Lord Langmere’s arrival at that moment with a pair of plates abundantly heaped with the creams, aspics, and Chantillies provided for her guests by Lady Dalingridge prevented her from answering this speech directly, and she applied herself assiduously to her plate while Addison and several other members of her coterie who had also stopped beside her chair on their way to the buffet made witty conversation over their hostess’s disappointment and Rossiter’s odd choice of supper companions.
Her own mind was in a puzzle. Could it be possible, she asked herself, that Rossiter had indeed been so taken by Kitty that he was willing to endure what must be the decidedly dull conversation of his present companions for the sake of being near her? The girl was well enough, certainly, and she as certainly appeared to advantage that evening in the shimmering spider-gauze gown; but she was not a Beauty, and her quiet stye of good looks was not the sort to strike a man like a coup de foudre.
The only feasible explanation of the situation appeared to be the one presented to her earlier by Lord Langmere—that Rossiter’s intention in returning to England had been to settle himself in life, and that for this purpose he was looking about him as expeditiously as possible for a suitable bride.
That this
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