Dressed in Black

Chapter 13

Of an evening, when the merry company were assembled in the best drawing-room, a crunching of wheels was heard on the pavement outside, and soon, by pressing their noses to the windowpanes, the guests saw that a stranger had arrived, though they could not see the arms on the coach, as the December nights were excessively dark.

"Oh, how delightful!" squealed Henrietta, who was preparing herself to be admired by examining herself in the gilded looking-glass. Harry sneered at her, while the others smiled politely, unable to deny Henrietta's beauty or be uncivil to her.

"You needn't be so vain, Harryo," said Vanessa Badeau, smiling. "Really, with your superior good looks, one would imagine you to be without worry as to your hair or your complexion, because you'd be so sure of it. However, even I may consider myself vain, for who can help it, when one is blessed with such an effusion of charm?" At length, after the General had left the drawing-room to inquire about the visitor, Mr. Busick Borne was announced, who, though a noticeably wealthy man, did not rouse much interest in the young ladies' bosoms.

Catherine, meanwhile, had been sitting safely in her window casement quietly observing the unfolding scene, when something in the man's face struck her, and she found herself hurrying to greet him after he had been briefly introduced.

"Mr. Busick, I'm sure!" she whispered, her long oval face lifting at the sight of so old and so dear a friend. "How fortunate to see you here."

"But of course, Frederick's girl!" he exclaimed with a warm shake of her hand. Even as they marvelled at the sight of each other General Slater suspected the brother-in-law of having sent him there to keep an eye on the girl.

"He must be from the North," Henrietta remarked to Vanessa, who were both staring at him in dignified displeasure. "And you know they've such odd and vulgar manners up there. And my pet Catherine, to encourage such outlandish behaviour!"

"Do you know, you have grown quite tall," he proceeded as he escorted Catherine to a seat by the fire. "Let me look at you." While he examined her, and made whatever conjectures in his head, she looked at him, not thinking much but how good it was to see his bright, friendly face after so many years apart. In appearance, Mr. Borne was a tall, gaunt man with dainty movements – of two and fifty summers, be it said – who was once considered a dandy, but had long given up the image on gaining better sense. Nevertheless, he still wore plaid trousers and rather gaudy-coloured cravats, to the young Dandies' delight. He had a long English face and a narrow, upturned nose. He was unpretentiously gallant, instinctively friendly, had the fresh and energetic air of a sportsman, and had such kind brown eyes, that Catherine allowed herself to be lost in them.

"Forgive me, but you look very pale, Cathy," he murmured after he had drawn his mental observations. "Though I daren't ask why. You've been through quite enough, so I shan't be so cruel as to dwell on your misfortunes. However, I must ask, for I was not spared this one particular from Albert, whom I met recently in Town. How did old Fred die?"

"Consumption," she replied in her soft, patient tone of melancholy.

"The poor man," he took one of her hands into his. "Now, missy, let us not be too severe in our grief. I for one cannot indulge in my darker thoughts for longer than a few seconds!" he went on with calm cheerfulness. "I have explained already to my friend the General why I have come – it is merely as I have some business with him, nothing more romantic than that, much to your disappointment."

"I am afraid you think me a sentimentalist, Mr. Busick," she said, colouring self-consciously. "But most sentimentalists are feeble at heart, and I am not."