Джорджетт Хейер: False Colours

“No doubt!” she retorted. “It didn’t need your uncle Brumby to tell me that your brother’s worth a dozen of you, young man!”

“Oh, anyone could have told you that, ma’am!” he said cheerfully. “Indeed, I know of only two persons who would deny so obvious a truth: Kester himself, and my mother—who considers us both to be above criticism! Well, we are not, but you may believe, Lady Stavely, that neither he nor I would have entered into this particular hoax had we known that it would ever become known, or that we should be obliged to maintain the imposture! My brother presented himself to you that evening in the belief that either I had forgotten the date of the engagement, or had been delayed by some hitch, or accident, and must surely reappear at any moment. In fact, I had suffered an accident which knocked me senseless for days. When I did recover consciousness, and realized that the date of my engagement was past, I thought I must have ruined myself, and—to own the truth!—I was too pulled and battered to care! Had I known that my brother was in England, and desperately trying to save my face—but I didn’t know it, until I saw the notice in the newspaper! By that time he had not only been forced to keep up the pretence—which, once having entered into, he couldn’t abandon without, as he believed, serving me the worst possible turn—but he had fallen in love with Cressy, and she with him. But what I wish you will understand, ma’am, is that at the outset he had no other thought than to save my face!”

“And mine!” Cressy interpolated. “That thought also was in his mind, and in Godmama’s mind too, and whatever the outcome I should have been grateful to them for sparing me the humiliation I must have suffered had he not presented himself in your stead that evening!”

“Very noble!” said the Dowager. She added, in the querulous tone of a very old lady rapidly approaching exhaustion: “I don’t want to hear any more of your glib-tongued pittle-pattle! Find a way out of this abominable scrape that won’t set every tongue wagging, and Cressy may marry your brother with my goodwill! And that’s my last word!”

“Well, if that’s so, a way must be found!” said Evelyn. “But the only way I can see is for Kester to continue to be me, and for me to be him!”

The Dowager threw him a contemptuous glance; Cressy laughed; and Sir Bonamy paid no heed. But Lady Denville said earnestly: “No, no, dearest, that would never do! Only think how awkward it would be for you in Vienna, trying to make everyone believe you were Kit, when I dare say you don’t know anything about foreign affairs, or even who anyone is!”

“For heaven’s sake, don’t be such a widgeon!” snapped the Dowager, quite exasperated. “And if you can think of nothing better to do in this pass, Denville, than to cut silly jokes—”

“Not at all!” said Evelyn incorrigibly. “Kester could perform his part without the least difficulty, but Mama is far from being a widgeon! She has detected, in a flash, the flaw in my scheme! I had never the least turn for politics—”

“Or I,” interposed Kit, getting up, “for the management of estates!” He came forward, and said, addressing himself to the Dowager: “May I make a suggestion, ma’am? I know how tired you must be, but—but I think it just possible that there is a way out of the tangle.”

“ Ah!” breathed Cressy, raising her eyes to his in a glowing look of confidence. “I knew you would find it—oh, I knew it, my dearest dear!”

“Well, it’s to be hoped he has!” said the Dowager irascibly.

“But of course he has!” said Evelyn, shocked by her evident want of faith in his twin’s ingenuity. “Go on, Kester! Tell us!”

Kit could not help laughing, but he coloured a little, and said: “I will, but I’m afraid the scheme I have in mind is pretty make-shift. I think it covers all the difficulties, but I may have left something out of account: the devil of it is there are so many of them!” He glanced round the circle. “Well—it seems to me that the most urgent need is to restore Evelyn to his rightful position. That can’t be accomplished here, but I see no reason for him to bury himself in Leicestershire: he need go no further than to Hill Street. Brigg won’t suspect anything, for he’s a great deal too shortsighted; and I fancy Dinting won’t either, because I took good care to keep out of her way when I was in Hill Street myself.”

“What about my shoulder?” interrupted Evelyn.

“How are the London servants to know when, or how, you broke it? They do know here, so you’ll overturn that phaeton of yours tomorrow, on your way to London—which will account for your arrival in a hired chaise.”

“Now, hold a minute, Kester!” said Evelyn. “What the devil should I be doing, jauntering up to London, when I’m known to be entertaining guests here? Dash it, even my uncle wouldn’t believe I was as freakish as that!”

“You are going up to London to meet me , twin. I shall send Challow to fetch the letters from the receiving-office tomorrow, and he will bring me a packet-letter from myself. Whereupon Mama will be cast into transports, and I—faithfully imitating your well-known impetuosity, Eve!—shall set out for London in your curricle, taking Challow with me, and picking you up at Pinny’s cottage. There you’ll take his place—and we’ll hope to God we can get to East Grinstead without anyone’s recognizing you!”

“I’ll keep my hat over my eyes, and wind a muffler round my chin,” promised Evelyn. “What’s the significance of East Grinstead?”

“Well, you don’t ever stop for a change there, do you?”

“What, a bare six or seven miles from here? No, of course I don’t!”

“So however well they may know you at the toll-gate, they don’t know you at the posting-houses. I propose to leave the curricle at one of them, and to accomplish the rest of the journey in a job-chaise. Challow will have to walk to East Grinstead as soon as it begins to get dark, and drive the curricle up to London tomorrow. Fimber will follow us, with your baggage: no difficulty about that! I must remember to ask him where he deposited my own baggage, by the bye. You’ll set me down, when we get to London, and arrive in solitary state in Hill Street, where, in due course, I also shall arrive—in a hack, having, for some inscrutable reason, journeyed up from the coast on the stage-coach.”

“Not the stage: the Mail!” interrupted Cressy.

“Yes, that’s much better!” Kit agreed. “Thank you, love!”

“And then?” she asked.

“I must see your father, and disclose thetruth to him. If I can persuade him to pardon the deception, and to give his consent to our marriage, I think I can contrive to turn the affair into an unexceptionable romance. If not—” He stopped, and said, after a moment: “I don’t know, Cressy, and can’t bring myself to face that possibility!”

“Well, that don’t signify!” said the Dowager, who had been listening to him intently. “He’ll consent fast enough when he learns that I do!”

“May I tell him that, ma’am?”

“I said you might marry Cressy with my goodwill, if you could find a way out of this scrape without setting tongues wagging, and I’m a woman of my word! How do you mean to do it?”

He smiled. “I don’t ma’am: it would be a task quite beyond my capability!”

“Beyond anyone’s, my boy,” said Sir Bonamy. “There’s bound to be a deal of talk: no getting away from that!”

“None at all, sir. The only thing to be done is to sell the world a bargain!—I beg your pardon, ma’am!—to publish a Banbury story, which the tattle-boxes may discuss to their hearts’ content without doing any of us an ounce of harm.”