They were standing close beside a window, looking upon a square, and sufficiently removed from a central table, near which were seated Captain Danvers, with Chetwynd and his sister.

“I have brought you here, my love, to have a few words with you,” commenced Mrs. Calverley. “I am commissioned by Lady Thicknesse to ask a question, which she doesn’t like to ask herself. If you haven’t already discovered it, I must tell you she has set her heart upon marrying you to Lord Courland.”

“I am very much obliged to her!” said Emmeline. “But I suppose my consent will be first obtained?”

“That is the very point upon which I have undertaken to consult you,” said Mrs. Calverley. “Should his lordship propose, are you inclined to accept him?”

“He is not likely to propose to me,” replied Emmeline. “I may congratulate you on the conquest you have made.”

“I am quite as indifferent to his lordship as you appear to be, my love,” rejoined Mrs. Calverley.

“I shouldn’t have supposed so!” laughed Emmeline. “But of course, I take your word for it. Pray tell my aunt I am sorry to disappoint her, but she has made a wrong choice for me!”

“May I add anything more? May I assign a motive for your conduct? May I tell her you are already engaged?”

“Tell her whatever you please, dear Mrs. Calverley; but make her clearly understand that no persuasion shall ever induce me to marry Lord Courland. I surrender him entirely to you!”

“Never mind me! But do tell me who is the highly-favoured individual you have chosen?”

“Can you not guess? There is but one person I could choose, and he is not very far off.”

“Chetwynd?” cried Mrs. Calverley.

“Yes.”

“And you have accepted him?”

Again the answer was in the affirmative. “He is indeed most fortunate?” exclaimed Mrs. Calverley. “One question more and I have done.”

“I know what you would ask,” replied Emmeline. “Mamma has given her consent. But the marriage will not take place for some months.”

“Oh, how delighted I am!” cried Mrs. Calverley, with difficulty refraining from embracing her.

At this juncture Chetwynd arose. He had been watching them, and guessed what they were talking about.

As he approached, Mrs. Calverley sprang forward to meet him.

“Chetwynd,” she said, “I have just received some information that has given me the greatest pleasure. I think I ought to have been let into the secret; but I am too much overjoyed to complain!”

“I am glad the disclosure has been made,” he said. “The maintenance of the secret has placed Emmeline in a false position.”

“But no harm has ensued,” observed the young lady. “I have only just discovered my aunt’s scheme, or I should have acquainted her with the engagement. I now regret that I did not do so when I first came to town.”

“And I am at liberty to explain all to Lady Thick-nesse?” inquired Mrs. Calverley.

“You will greatly oblige me,” said Emmeline. “I shall be very glad to escape the task.”

“I will go to her at once,” said Mrs. Calverley.

And quitting the room, she repaired to the boudoir.

There she found that Sir Bridgnorth had been beforehand with her, and, explanations being unnecessary, she talked the matter over quietly with Lady Thicknesse, and endeavoured to reconcile her to the arrangement, apparently with some success.

Mrs. Calverley had quitted the boudoir rather more than half an hour, and Lady Thicknesse was alone, and lamenting the failure of her scheme, when Scrope again made his appearance.

His countenance had a singular expression, and he remained standing, while he said, in rather a stern voice:

“Don’t give yourself any concern about Emmeline’s imprudent engagement with Chetwynd Calverley, aunt. I have just learnt something that will enable me to put an end to it.”

“You don’t say so! What is it?” exclaimed Lady Thicknesse, in surprise.

“I cannot explain now,” he rejoined. “Wait till to-morrow!”

But finding her ladyship could not repress her curiosity, and determined not to gratify it, he abruptly quitted the boudoir, leaving her in a high state of excitement.

XIII. A SOIREE DANSANTE

|A party was to be given that evening at the house in Belgrave Square; but below stairs, not above

Exceedingly indulgent to her servants, Lady friends; and he had invited the Tankards, to whom he owed a return, and several others of our acquaintance – namely, Mrs. Tripp and the charming Clotilde; Mrs. Sicklemore and the fair Flora; Mr. and Mrs. Hartley, Harry Netterville, Pledger Dapp, and Larkins – to a soirée dansante.

Of course, the servants of the house were included, and they mustered very strong – footman, coachman, page, housekeeper, lady’s-maid, housemaids, and kitchen maid. Nor must we omit to mention Rose, and Mrs. Calverley’s lady’s-maid, Laura, who had some pretension to good looks.

Most important, however, of all was the French cook, Monsieur Zephyrus, who next to Mr. Higgins himself, was the principal person in the establishment.

A very smart young man was Zephyrus, when not compelled by the duties of his vocation to disguise himself in a white apron, white veste, and white bonnet-de-nuit.

He now wore an evening dress, made by a fashionable tailor in the Boulevard Italien, the peculiar cut of which proclaimed its French origin; and, as he had a light figure, he looked very well in it.

Zephyrus was not bad-looking, and had a dark complexion, black eyes, and large black whiskers, of which he was not a little vain. When in full dress, as on the present occasion, he wore a lorgnon stuck in his right eye.

On the previous day he had paid a visit to his friend Sigebert Smart, whom he had known in Paris, and invited him and Madame Smart to the party. Both accepted the invitation with delight.

In addition to a piano, brought from upstairs, and on which Mrs. Tripp had kindly consented to perform, a violin, violoncello, and cornet had been provided by Mr. Higgins. Nothing, indeed, was neglected.

The large housekeeper’s room, in which dancing was to take place, was brilliantly lighted up and decorated; and supper, prepared by Monsieur Zephyrus himself, was to be served in the salle à manger. Nothing was seen of the kitchen.

Not till ten o’clock, when dinner and all other matters upstairs had been disposed of, did the company begin to assemble.

Of course they were obliged to descend the area steps; but, the passage once gained, and the doors thrown open, they were surprised by the splendour of the scene.

They were received by Mr. Higgins, who was supported by Monsieur Zephyrus.

First to arrive were the Tankards. Tom was very much struck by the appearance of Zephyrus, and wondered who he was, never supposing him to be a cook. His father told him he was a cordon bleu, but that did not enlighten him; and the marked attentions paid by the gallant Frenchman to Madame Sigebert Smart, when she arrived with her husband, puzzled him still more. He could not understand how such a distinguished-looking personage could be on intimate terms with a coiffeur and his wife.

As soon as he got an opportunity, he said to Sigebert:

“Who’s that very polite French gent talking to Madame?”

“Monsieur Zephyrus,” replied the coiffeur. “Don’t you know him?”

“I don’t recollect seeing him before,” remarked Tom. “The guv’nor says he’s a cordon bleu. What does that mean?”

Scarcely able to refrain from laughing, Sigebert replied:

“It means that he’s a knight of the Saint Esprit, The order was given him by Louis Napoleon. Chevalier Zephyrus is entitled to wear a broad blue ribbon, with a cross attached to it, but he doesn’t put it on now.”

“He seems a very condescending sort of fellow for a chevalier,” said Tom. “No nonsensical pride about him.”

“None whatever,” replied Sigebert. “You’ll find him very affable. But don’t talk to him about cookery. He dislikes that subject.”

“I’ll take care to avoid it,” said Tom.

By this time, the whole party having assembled – guests and inmates of the house – Mrs. Tripp was conducted to the piano by Higgins, and the musicians began to strike up.

Then it was that Zephyrus, who acted as master of the ceremonies, clapped his well-gloved hands, and exclaimed:

“Messieurs, un quadrille – prenez vos dames!”

“That means we’re to take our partners for a quadrille. Ma’mzelle,” said Tom, stepping up to Clotilde, “shall I have the honour?”

“Too late, Mr. Tom,” she replied, coquettishly. “Already engaged to Monsieur Zephyrus.”

“Ah, the Chevalier knows how to take care of himself, I perceive!” cried Tom.

“Yes. You’d better look quick, and secure Flora, or she’ll be snapped up,” said Clotilde.

Acting on the advice, Tom hurried off, but would have been too late if the thoughtful young lady had not reserved herself for him.

All the cavaliers seemed choosing partners, but the master of the ceremonies would only allow four couples in the first quadrille. These were himself and Clotilde, Tom Tankard and Flora, Harry Netterville and Rose, and Sigebert and Laura.

“Will you be our vis-a-vis, Monsieur Grandpot?” he said to Tom.

“With the greatest pleasure, Chevalier,” replied our young friend. “But my name’s not Grandpot; I’m Mr. Tom Tankard.”

“Mille pardons!” exclaimed Zephyrus. “But we call a tankard a grand pot d’argent. Be pleased to take your place, Monsieur Tom.”

The quadrille then commenced.

Monsieur Zephyrus danced with wonderful spirit and lightness, cutting cross capers, forward capers, side capers, back capers – now executing the boree step, the courant step, and the gaillard step – hopping, jumping, bounding, and ending with a pirouette that astonished all the beholders.

Tom Tankard tried to imitate him, but the performance was a mere caricature, and though it excited laughter, must be pronounced a failure.

Sigebert was more successful. He had figured at the Grand Chaumière at Paris, and treated the company to some of the fantastic steps he had seen performed there and at other salles de danse in the Bois de Boulogne.

Though very much amused by what he beheld, Harry Netterville did not indulge in any of these absurdities.

Both Flora and Clotilde danced very well, as they had had some practice at Cremorne, but Rose was very quiet.

A rigadoon followed, which again enabled Monsieur Zephyrus to display his grace and skill; then a valse, in which Flora fell to the share of the Frenchman, and Clotilde to Sigebert. Tom was obliged to content himself with Madame Sigebert, for Rose declined to dance with him.

When the valse was over, a country dance was called for by Mr. Higgins, who wished to dance with Mrs. Tankard, and led off with her. Almost everybody joined in this lively dance, which was carried on with the greatest spirit, and amid much laughter, for more than half an hour.

The elderly people seemed to enjoy it as much as the young folks, but Mr. Higgins and Mrs. Tankard could not go down a second time.

Monsieur Zephyrus, who was evidently quite captivated by Clotilde, induced her to dance with him, to the great disgust of Tom, who began to feel a little jealous of the gay Frenchman. However, Flora contrived to console him.

Harry Netterville and Rose thoroughly enjoyed the merry country dance, and did not feel in the least fatigued by their exertions.

The company then proceeded to supper; where, we have already explained.

The men-servants of the house, who were intended to wait, went in first. Mr. Higgins gave his arm to Mrs. Tankard, and was followed by Mr. Tankard and Mrs. Tripp, Mr. Larkins and Mrs. Hartley, with the rest of the party.

A very elegant supper greeted them – quite a triumph of skill on the part of Monsieur Zephyrus, who had done his best. Iced champagne and moselle cup were to be had in plenty.

Tom Tankard was in raptures.

“By Jove!” he cried; “I never saw a nicer supper! Lady Thicknesse must have a capital cook!”

Monsieur Zeyhyrus, who chanced to be near him, smiled.

“Enchanted to find you are pleased with my performance, Monsieur Tom!” he said.“Your performance, Chevalier!” cried Tom. “You don’t mean to say you prepared the supper?”

“Mais oui, mon cher,” said Zephyrus, proudly. “I, and no one else. Don’t you know I am Lady Thicknesse’s cook?”

“Give you my word I wasn’t aware of it till this moment,” cried Tom. “I was told you are a cordon bleu.”

“And so I am,” said Zephyrus. “But don’t you understand that a cordon bleu means a first-rate cook? – that’s my description.”

For a few moments Tom seemed lost in astonishment. He then exclaimed:

“The guv’nor’s completely taken me in!”

The company did not seem inclined to leave the supper table, and no wonder, considering the excellence of the repast and the abundant supply of champagne.

But Mr. Higgins, who was very careful, thought they had sat long enough, and moved off to the ballroom, where the music again struck up, and dancing recommenced with even more spirit than before.

The only person who looked discontented was Tom Tankard. He had drunk a good deal of champagne, and it had got into his head and made him rather quarrelsome. He felt jealous and angry at the evident preference shown by Clotilde for Monsieur Zephyrus.

They were again engaged in a polka. Ordinarily, Tom was very fond of a polka; but on this occasion he refused to join in the dance, but stood on one side and noticed the passionate glances bestowed by the Frenchman on the inconstant charmer. His breast swelled; but he was obliged to devour his rage.

When the polka ceased several couples proceeded to the supper-room for a glass of champagne and amongst them were Zephyrus and Clotilde. In a minute or two the others came back; but the Frenchman and the fair syren did not appear.

Maddened by jealousy, Tom went in search of them.

As he approached the supper-room, the door of which was partly open, he perceived at a glance that they were alone together, and that Zephyrus, who was seated beside her, was still pouring forth tender speeches in her ear; but they were too much engrossed by each other to notice him.

His first impulse was to rush in upon them; but hearing his own name pronounced, he stood still.

“I hope you don’t care for that grand nigaud, Tom Tankard,” said Zephyrus. “Indeed, it is hardly possible you can – he is so frightfully ugly, besides being ridiculous and stupid. But I believe he flatters himself you are in love with him.”

“He certainly pays me a great deal of attention,” replied Clotilde; “but if he fancies I am in love with him, he is very much mistaken. In fact, to confess the truth, I am becoming rather tired of him.”

“That gives me hopes,” said Zephyrus. “I shall try and please you better.”

“You please me very much,” said Clotilde. “You dance charmingly – much better than Tom.”

“He cannot dance at all,” said Zephyrus, contemptuously. “But dancing is the least of my accomplishments. I am a skilful musician; I ride well, drive well, shoot well – ”

“And cook well,” added Clotilde. “The supper you have given us was perfect.”

“Ah, you shall taste a wedding breakfast; but not prepared for that odious Tom Tankard!”

“For whom, then?” inquired Clotilde.

Before an answer could be returned, Tom rushed into the room, and quite frightened Clotilde by his looks.

“So you are getting tired of me, are you?” he cried to the fickle girl. “How long have you been tired? Only this very morning you said you liked me better than any one else; but this French cook has made you change your mind. He may have you, and welcome. I’ve done with you for ever.”

“You don’t mean it, dear Tom?” she cried, penitentially.

“Yes, I do,” he rejoined, “and I’m glad I’ve found you out in time. But I can’t say much for your choice!” he added, casting a glance of scorn at his rival.

“What have you to say against me, saar?” cried

Zephyrus, with a fierce gesticulation, and shaking his clenched hand at Tom.

“You won’t frighten me, monsieur,” observed Tom, quietly. “Consider yourself thrashed.”

“But I won’t!” cried Zephyrus. “I never was thrashed, and never will be!”

“Yes you will!” cried Tom.

And being somewhat of a bruiser, he dealt him a smart tap on the nose, or somewhere near it, that knocked him backwards against the table, upsetting a number of glasses with a tremendous crash.

Clotilde ran screaming out of the room.

“Diable, vous avez poché mon oeil au beurre noir, monsieur!” cried Zephyrus, as he picked himself up. “But you shall pay for the affront with your life’s blood!”

“Don’t be afraid, monsieur,” said Tom, stoutly. “I’ll give you satisfaction in any way you like; sword, pistol, or this!” he added, holding up his clenched fist.

“But the duel is no longer allowed in your country,” said Zephyrus.

“Then we’ll settle our quarrel in yours,” rejoined Tom. “I’ll go over with you to Boulogne, or Dieppe, whenever you please.”

While these menaces were exchanged, Mr. Higgins, Mr. Tankard, and several others had entered the room, alarmed by the crash of glass and Clotilde’s cries.

They instantly perceived that a conflict had taken place.

“What’s the meaning of this disturbance, gentlemen?” cried Mr. Higgins. “Can’t you spend the evening quietly?”

“I’m ashamed of you, Tom!” cried Mr. Tankard.

“The quarrel wasn’t of my seeking, guv’nor,” said the young man.

“But it won’t end here,” cried Zephyrus, holding a handkerchief to his face.

“I hope it will,” rejoined Higgins.

“Tom,” said his father, sternly, “I insist on your making an apology to Monsieur Zephyrus.”

“I make an apology?” rejoined the youth. “Don’t expect it, guv’nor.”

“Nor will I accept an apology,” said Zephyrus. “I will have his life! Sigebert,” he added to the coiffeur, who had entered the room with the others, “you shall be my parrain– my second.”

“With great pleasure,” replied the other.

“If you talk of fighting a duel, I’ll have you both bound over to keep the peace,” said Higgins. “But come, we’ve had quite enough of this nonsense; shake hands like good fellows.”

“I’m quite ready,” said Tom. “I’ll either fight or make friends, as suits Monsieur Zephyrus best.”

This was said in such a good-natured way that it pleased the Frenchman, and he seemed disposed to make up the quarrel.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, for I don’t believe you’re half a bad fellow,” said Tom. “There, will that suffice?”

“Parfaitement,” replied Zephyrus, taking the hand offered him.

“Bravo!” cried Higgins. “Now let us all have a glass of champagne, and then we’ll go back to the ball-room. We must have a reel.”

“No more dancing for me,” said Tom.

“Nonsense!” cried his father. “I insist that you dance with Clotilde.”

“Do you consent, Monsieur?” said Tom, with a droll look at Zephyrus. “She now belongs to you.”

“You shall have her back altogether, if you like,” replied the Frenchman.

“Nay, I won’t tax your generosity so far,” said Tom, with a laugh.

Champagne was here handed round, and, after the brimming glasses had been emptied, they all repaired to the ball-room.

Clotilde flew to Tom on his appearance, and he was foolish enough to forgive her.

A reel was called, in which all the company took part, except poor Monsieur Zephyrus, who was obliged to apply a piece of brown paper, steeped in brandy, to his injured orb.

XIV. AN UNPLEASANT INQUIRY

|Next morning, about eleven o’clock, Chetwynd found his way, as usual, from the “Grosvenor Hotel” to the house in Belgrave Square

He had breakfasted very pleasantly with Sir Bridgnorth Charlton, who was staying at the same hotel as himself, and had not the slightest idea that anything disagreeable awaited him; but he was rather struck by Higgins’s manner, as he let him in.

Evidently the butler had something to communicate.

It may be proper to mention that, since Chetwynd’s resumption of his own name, and appearance in his true character at Lady Thicknesse’s, no allusion to the past had ever been made by Higgins, who had always been particularly respectful.

“Mr. Calverley,” he said, as they stood together in the vestibule, “I must prepare you for an interview with her ladyship and Mr. Scrope Danvers. They are in the dining-room, and I am directed to conduct you thither on your arrival. I know nothing, but should any questions be asked me, you may rely on my discretion.”

“I am greatly obliged to you, Higgins,” replied Chetwynd; “but you are at liberty to tell all you know respecting me. I desire no concealment. Of course, I should be glad to throw a veil over the past if I could; but that is impossible.”

No more was said.

The butler ushered him into the dining-room, where he found Lady Thicknesse and her nephew.

Her ladyship received him with her customary good nature, and begged him to be seated; but Scrope’s manner was cold and haughty.

After a few preliminary remarks by Lady Thicknesse, Scrope interposed, and in a very grave tone said:

“Will you allow me to ask you a few questions, Mr. Calverley? I shall be sorry to give you pain, but circumstances compel me to adopt this disagreeable course.”

“Since the questions you desire to put refer, no doubt, to a very painful period of my life, it might, perhaps, have been better if you had spoken to me in private,” rejoined Chetwynd. “But proceed.”

“Pray understand that it is at my particular request that Lady Thicknesse is present,” said Scrope. “We have long been aware that some time ago you were in great difficulties, and on bad terms with your father and stepmother; but, until very lately neither of us knew you had attempted to commit suicide.”

“What you have heard is quite true, sir,” replied Chetwynd. “I was driven to desperation by my own folly; but I have never ceased to feel deep remorse for the attempt, and I daily thank Heaven that I was saved from the commission of the sinful act.”

Hitherto Lady Thicknesse had looked down, but she now regarded him with an interest she had never felt before.

“These sentiments do you credit, sir,” said Scrope. “But I must now ask what steps you took immediately after the attempt?”

“I endeavoured to obtain employment.”

“In what way?”

“I decline to answer that question, sir,” replied Chetwynd.

“As you please, sir,” said Scrope. “I can easily obtain the requisite information.”

And he rang the bell. The summons was promptly answered by the butler.

“Higgins,” observed Scrope, “when Charles Brown-low, the former footman, was discharged, did Mr. Tankard apply for the place?”

“He did, sir.”

“For his son?”

“No, sir; for a young man named Walter Liddel.”

“Are you certain that was his real name?”

“I can’t be quite sure, sir,” replied Higgins. “At any rate it was the name given me by Mr. Tankard.”

“Did you see the party spoken of?”

“Oh, yes, sir! I saw him at Mr. Tankard’s house, and was very much pleased with his appearance. The livery suited him extremely well.”

“Oh! then he had on the livery?”

“Yes, sir. I wished to see how it fitted, and it did fit him to admiration. I never saw such a fine-looking footman in my life.”

“And you engaged him?”

“At once, sir. I thought him a great catch.”

“Did he enter on the situation?”

“Something prevented him. Either his father died quite suddenly, and left him a large fortune, or else he married; I don’t recollect which.”

“Be serious, if you please, Higgins. Have you ever seen him since?”

“Not that I am aware of, sir.”

“Should you know him again if you saw him?”

“I don’t think I should, sir. I only saw him in livery, and a handsome livery like ours sets a man off to advantage. Are these all the questions you propose to ask me, sir?”

“One more, and I have done; and I beg you will answer it distinctly. Do you see him now?”

“Walter Liddel? No, sir.”

“You are a very cautious fellow, Higgins, but it won’t do,” said Scrope.

“Speak out, Higgins,” said Chetwynd. “I have no wish for concealment.”

“Now I look again,” remarked the butler to Scrope, “I should say there is a very strong resemblance between Walter Liddel and Mr. Chetwynd Calverley.”

“Enough!” cried Scrope. “You may retire.” Higgins bowed, and left the room.

“And now,” said Chetwynd, “may I ask the meaning of this inquiry?”

“My object is merely to establish a fact,” replied Scrope. “Lady Thicknesse and myself have just learnt, to our great surprise and annoyance, that our charming relative, Emmeline Barfleur, has had the imprudence to form an engagement with you.”

“Imprudence, sir!” cried Chetwynd.

“I might use a stronger term, but that will suffice. It cannot be very agreeable to those connected with her, that the daughter of the proud Sir Leycester Barfleur, who might marry any one she pleases, should throw herself away upon a – footman!”

Chetwynd absolutely started, but controlled himself by a great effort.

“I now understand your anxiety to secure Lady Thicknesses presence at our interview,” he said. “You have aimed a cowardly blow at me, but it has failed in effect. I treat your observation with scorn!” Then, turning to Lady Thicknesse, he added, “Since your nephew refuses to give me credit for acting like a gentleman, I must inform your ladyship that Emmeline is acquainted with the ridiculous circumstance of which so much has been made, and it merely excited her laughter. I have confessed all my follies and faults to her —all!– and she has forgiven me, because she believes in my promises of amendment.”

As he spoke the door opened, and Emmeline herself entered the room, accompanied by Mildred and Sir Bridgnorth Charlton.