Faro's Daughter (19 page)

‘I thought very likely you would be able to arrange for that,’ said Miss Grantham hopefully. ‘Silas will help you, and between you should be able to overpower him, I imagine.’

‘Ah, there’s no difficulty about that! But do you suppose I am to walk into his house, or club him in the open street, me darlin’?’

Miss Grantham looked rather anxious. ‘I don’t want him to be hurt, you know. At least, not much. Couldn’t you catch him after dark, when he is coming away from his club, or some such thing?’

Mr Kennet pursed up his lips disparagingly. ‘Too chancy, Deb. It won’t do to bungle it. I’m thinking you should write to him, appointing a meeting-place in some quiet spot, and I’ll keep the tryst for you.’

Once more Miss Grantham’s tiresome conscience intervened. ‘No!’ she said, revolted. ‘I won’t win by such a horrid trick! Besides, he thinks I am an odious woman who would do any vile thing, and I am not! We must think of something else.’

Mr Kennet cast her a sidelong, appraising glance. ‘Ah, well,’ he said diplomatically, ‘you’d best leave the manner of it to me. I shall contrive somehow, I daresay.’

‘And what am I to do about this wicked letter?’ asked Miss Grantham, her eyes kindling as they alighted on it. ‘I should like to write to him, and tell him that he may go to the devil, but I suppose that would spoil everything. I must fob him off until Wednesday. Only I don’t know what to say!’

‘Give me a pen!’ said Kennet. ‘It will be better if I reply to it for you. You must play for time, me dear.’

‘Why should you reply to it?’ asked Deborah suspiciously. ‘If you mean any mischief, Lucius—’

‘Devil a bit!’ he said, cheerfully lying. ‘You shall look over me shoulder while I write it, and seal it yourself. ‘Twill be better for the gentleman to see that you think too little of him to answer with your own hand. Besides, you must plead with him a trifle, me dear, and that you’ll never bring yourself to do. I’ll write it for you in the third person.’

‘What do you mean to say?’ asked Miss Grantham, a little doubtful still, but bringing him some notepaper, and a pen.

He drew the paper towards him, and dipped the pen in the standish. ‘How will this answer?’ he said, and began to write in flowing characters, slowly reading the words aloud as he did so.
‘Miss Grantham is obliged to Mr Ravenscar for his letter, and begs to inform him that she is astonished that any gentleman—
We’ll underline that word, Deb!—
could address a defenceless female in such terms.’

‘I am not defenceless!’ objected Miss Grantham.

‘Whisht, now!
She is persuaded that Mr Ravenscar cannot mean to put his barbarous threat into execution, since Lady Bellingham has done nothing to incur his enmity. Miss Grantham cannot but believe that a Compromise might yet be reached, and begs the favour of a reply to this suggestion at Mr Ravenscar’s earliest convenience.
And we’ll underline that too, to make him think it’s frightened you are.

‘Deb. How’s that?’

‘I suppose it will answer,’ said Deborah, in a discontented voice. ‘But I hate to sue for mercy!’

Mr Kennet shook some sand over the letter, read it through, and folded it, and reached for a wafer. ‘You’ll have your revenge on him presently, me darlin’, but till Wednesday we must keep him quiet, or it’s ruined all our fine plans will be.’

‘Very well: send it!’ said Deborah.

Chapter 10

When Mr Ravenscar received Mr Kennet’s letter, his emotions were very much what the writer had hoped they would be. He was not surprised that Miss Grantham should show signs of weakening. He had expected her to be thrown into a flutter by his brief communication, and he lost no time in giving a turn to the screw by sitting down to write a second curt note to her.

‘Mr Ravenscar presents his compliments to Miss Grantham, and desires to inform her that no Compromise is in any way agreeable to him. He must beg her to make her decision within the next three days, at the end of which time he will consider himself free to act in a manner which he has reason to believe must cause Miss Grantham a great deal of embarrassment which he would be loath to inflict on any female, defenceless or otherwise.’

‘There!’ exclaimed Miss Grantham indignantly, when she read this unamiable communication. ‘I said I wished you would not call me a defenceless woman! I knew he would sneer at me.’

‘He’ll not sneer for long,’ promised Lucius Kennet.

‘I will answer for that!’ said Miss Grantham fiercely. ‘Only bring him here on Wednesday night.’

‘I’ll do that, me dear, never fear!’

‘Yes, but do you know how you will contrive to do it?’

‘Leave it to me, Deb: that’s my part in the business.’

She was not quite satisfied with this answer, but since he only laughed when she pressed him to tell her what his plan was, she was obliged to accept it, merely stipulating that no severe harm should befall the victim. ‘Not that I care,’ she explained. ‘I should not care if you killed him, but it would be bound to lead to trouble, and we don’t want that!’

Mr Kennet agreed that they did not want trouble, and went away to compose another letter to Mr Ravenscar, in the same flowing hand. But this letter he had no intention of showing to Miss Grantham, concurring to the full in Mr Wantage’s dictum, that what Miss Deb knew nothing about she’d not grieve over.

Meanwhile, there was nothing further for Deborah to do but to await the coming of Wednesday evening, and to nourish thoughts of the direst vengeance. She had no expectation of receiving any more news of Mr Ravenscar, and was consequently much astonished to see, on looking out of the window on the following day, a carriage draw up outside the house, bearing the Ravenscar crest on the panel. As she stared at it, the footman sprang down to open the door, and let down the steps. But the figure that alighted from the carriage was not Mr Ravenscar’s. Miss Grantham recognized Arabella Ravenscar’s trim form, and felt almost ready to faint from surprise.

Miss Ravenscar tripped up the steps to the front door, and sent in her card. Silas Wantage brought this to his mistress, and handed it to her, saying darkly that he doubted it was all a trick, and recommending that he should be allowed to send the young party about her business. Miss Grantham, however, felt a good deal of curiosity to know what could have brought Arabella to see her, and directed her henchman to desire Miss Ravenscar to step upstairs.

A few moments later, Arabella was ushered into the room, a charming vision in a sprigged muslin dress with a pink tiffany sash, a pink silk coat, and a ravishing hat tied under her chin with pink ribbons. She paused on the threshold, eyeing her hostess with her head tilted a little, like a bird, Miss Grantham thought. The big, pansy-brown eyes were half-doubtful, half-mischievous.

Miss Grantham, herself very prettily dressed in a pale green
saque
, and with her hair in simple ringlets, moved forward to greet her visitor, quite forgetting that she had previously appeared to Miss Ravenscar in a most vulgar guise. ‘How do you do?’ she said politely.

The doubt vanished from Arabella’s face. She ran forward, and caught Deborah’s hands, exclaiming! ‘There! I knew I should like you! Oh, how badly you did behave, to be sure! But I told my aunt you had such laughing eyes that I could not but like you! Do you mind my coming to see you without my Mama? She will never go anywhere, you know, and besides that, she is against you, just like all of them! Only Adrian said you were not like that in the general way, and I made up my mind I would come and see you for myself.’

Deborah coloured, and said: ‘You should not have come, Miss Ravenscar. I am persuaded your brother would not wish you to visit this house.’

‘Oh, pooh! Who cares for Max?’ said his sister scornfully.

‘He will know nothing about it, in any event. And if you are going to be my cousin, there can be no objection to my visiting you. I must tell you that I am very glad you are to marry Adrian.’

‘Are you?’ asked Deborah, surprised. She led Arabella to the sofa. ‘I cannot think why you should be!’

‘Well, I am glad now, because I like you,’ replied Arabella, seating herself, and turning towards Deborah with a pretty, confiding air. ‘I was glad before, because my Mama, and Aunt Selina, had made the stupidest plan to marry me to Adrian, which is a thing neither of us wanted in the very least. Of course, they could not have prevailed with us, because we decided long ago that we should not suit, but you have no idea how tiresome it is to have people making such schemes for one!’

‘Your brother too, no doubt, desired this marriage?’

‘I daresay he does, not that he has ever said a word to me about it, for the only thing he said to me about being married was that I am too young and silly to think of such a thing, which is absurd. But I don’t care for what Max says, in any event. I shall marry whom I choose, and when I choose! I have very nearly run away to be married several times already.’

Miss Grantham could not help laughing at this. ‘Do you change your mind so often, Miss Ravenscar?’

‘Yes; isn’t it dreadful?’ sighed Arabella, shaking her head. ‘I have been in love a score of times already! And the odd thing is that each time it happens I do truly feel quite sure that it is for always. But somehow it never is. That is why Mama has brought me to London. She has such poor health, you see, that she finds me a sad trial. She said Max must look after me, and naturally I was transported, because I like being in London, and going to parties. In fact, it is just what I hoped would happen!’

‘You do not anticipate, I collect, that your brother may look after you too strictly?’

‘Oh no!’ said Arabella blithely. ‘Max is a great dear, and he is never unreasonable! He does not like to be crossed, of course, but we deal delightfully together, I assure you.’

‘I fear that he would be very angry if he knew you had come to visit me.’

‘Max is never angry with me,’ replied Miss Ravenscar confidently. ‘Besides, why should he care? You are charming!’ Miss Grantham blushed. ‘Thank you! I beg you will not tell him that you have been here, however. You must be aware that he dislikes me very much.’

‘Yes, I am, of course, and I cannot conceive why he should! I thought it might be a good thing if I were to tell him that he is quite mistaken in you.’

‘No, no!’ said Deborah quickly. ‘I beg you will not do so! It must sound odd to you, I know, but I have a very particular reason for not wishing him to be informed of this visit!’

‘Well, I won’t say a word about it, then,’ said Arabella obligingly. ‘I daresay I had better not, indeed, for if he has taken one of his stupid dislikes to you he won’t listen to any thing anyone says. But why did you behave in that shocking way at Vauxhall? Do tell me! You made me want to laugh so!’

Miss Grantham, finding herself quite unable to explain her conduct at Vauxhall, said vaguely that she had had a reason, which she could not well divulge. Arabella looked as though she would have liked to probe farther into the mystery, but was too well-bred to do so. Instead, she remarked that she was acquainted with a Mr Grantham, and wondered if he might be related to Deborah. ‘I met him at the Assemblies at Tunbridge Wells,’ she said. ‘He is in the 14th Foot.’

‘Indeed!’ Deborah said. ‘Then you have met my brother, Miss Ravenscar. Do you know him well?’

‘Oh, I have danced with him several times!’ responded Arabella carelessly. ‘Tunbridge Wells was abominably flat, you know, until the 14th were stationed there!’

She was interrupted by the entrance of Lucius Kennet, who had been told by Silas who was abovestairs, and had come up in a spirit of the liveliest curiosity to behold the guest with his own eyes.

Miss Grantham was not quite pleased at his having come into the room. It was evident, from Arabella’s artless disclosures, that that young lady was extremely susceptible, and Mr Kennet, besides being a good-looking man, had more than his share of male charm. She was obliged to present him to Arabella, but gave him a somewhat minatory look as she did so, which he received with the blandest of smiles. He sat down opposite to the sofa, and engaged both ladies in conversation. His manners were pleasing, and his address very easy and assured, while the smile that lurked in his eyes has been more than one lady’s undoing. However, Miss Grantham was relieved to see that he was behaving with perfect propriety towards her guest, treating her, in fact, in a way that almost bordered on the avuncular.

But nevertheless Miss Grantham was not sorry when Arabella got up to take her leave. She could not think Lucius Kennet a fit companion for a volatile young lady not yet nineteen years of age, and she was a little afraid that his knowledge of the world, the gay stories he told, the cosmopolitan air that clung to him, might have an extremely undesirable effect upon Miss Ravenscar. When Arabella exclaimed that he must have led the most romantic life, and expressed a wish to be a vagabond herself, she said in a dampening fashion that vagabondage was not at all romantic, but, on the contrary, tedious beyond words.

‘Oh, I should love to be a gamester, and to travel, and to have adventures!’ declared Arabella, drawing on her gloves again. ‘I must go now, but pray let me come to see you again, dear Miss Grantham! I shan’t say a word to Max, or to Mama, I promise.’

But although Miss Grantham had thought of a number of ways of punishing Mr Ravenscar, the introduction of his half-sister into gaming circles was not one of them, and she told Arabella that she could not permit her to visit the house while her relatives continued to disapprove of its inmates. ‘It would not be right, my dear,’ she said, taking Arabella’s hand, and patting it. ‘You must do what your Mama and—and your brother think proper.’