Aristocracy (Social class) -- Fiction; Epistolary fiction; Young women -- Fiction
Dearest Mamma,--There is a huge party here for the Horse Show, and I
daresay I shall enjoy myself. We had no sooner got into the station at
Paddington than in the distance I caught sight of Lord Valmond. I
pretended not to see him, and got behind a barrow of trunks, and then
slipped into the carriage and made Agnès sit by the door. We saw him
walking up and down, and, just before the train started, he came and
got into our carriage. He seemed awfully surprised to see me, said he
had not an idea he should meet me, and apologised for disturbing me,
but he said all the other carriages were full. He seemed so uppish and
unconcerned that I felt obliged to ask him how he enjoyed his dinner
with Aunt Maria on Saturday. He said he had enjoyed it awfully, and
that Aunt Maria was a charming hostess. He asked me if I was going far
down the line, or only just on the river. I said not very far. I tried
to be as stiff as possible and not speak, and I did not tell him where
I was going, but, do you know, Mamma, there is no snubbing him. He said
at once that he was going to Hazeldene Court, to stay with his cousins
the Westaways. I said, "Indeed!" and he said, "Yes, aren't they cousins
of yours too?" and when I said "Yes," he said he felt sure we were
related, and mightn't he call me Elizabeth!!! I just told him I thought
him the rudest, most detestable man I had ever met; and if he spoke to
me again at all, I should ask the guard to find me another carriage.
[Sidenote: _Lord Valmond Presumes_]
He was awfully surprised, and said he had not meant to be the least
rude; he thought it was the custom for cousins to call each other by
their Christian names, and _his_ name was Harry. (Just as if I did not
know that, after hearing Mrs. Smith calling him every few minutes!) I
said in a freezing tone we were not related in any way, and I wished to
read the paper, upon which he produced every imaginable kind, lots of
ladies' papers that he could not possibly have wanted for himself. I
don't know who he expected to meet. However, I would not have any of
them, but looked at a _Punch_ I had bought myself. You know that
uncomfortable feeling one has when some one is staring at one--it makes
one obliged to look up--so after a while our eyes met over the _Punch_,
and he smiled, and his teeth are so white. All he said was, "I was
thinking of the Clarkes and Clarks." And in spite of my being indignant
with him I could not help laughing, when I remembered about them, and
then it was hard to be very stiff again at once.
[Sidenote: _The Offending Dimple_]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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