The Convenient Marriage (26 page)

‘Yes, but, Pelham, I haven’t anything of importance to discuss with him!’ protested Captain Heron.

‘Lord, you can think of something, can’t you?’ said the Viscount. ‘It don’t signify what you talk about as long as you keep him away from Vauxhall. Family affairs – money – anything!’

‘I’m damned if I will!’ said Captain Heron. ‘After all Rule’s done for me I can’t and I won’t tell him that I want to talk about money!’

‘Well, don’t tell him so. Just say you must have a private word with him to-night. He ain’t the man to ask you what it’s about, and dash it, Edward, you must be able to talk about something when it comes to the point!’

‘Of course you must,’ corroborated Sir Roland. ‘Nothing simpler. You’ve been at this War in America, haven’t you? Well, tell him about that. Tell him about that battle you was in – forgotten its name.’

‘But I can’t beg Rule to give me an evening alone with him, and then sit telling him stories he don’t want to hear about the war!’

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ temporized Sir Roland. ‘You don’t know he doesn’t want to hear them. Any number of people take a deal of interest in this war. I don’t myself, but that ain’t to say Rule doesn’t.’

‘You don’t seem to understand,’ said Captain Heron wearily. ‘You expect me to make Rule believe I’ve urgent business to discuss with him –’

The Viscount interposed. ‘It’s you who don’t understand,’ he said. ‘All we care about is keeping Rule away from Vauxhall to-night. If we don’t do it the game’s up. It don’t matter a ha’porth how you keep him away so long as you do keep him away.’

Captain Heron hesitated. ‘I know that. I’d do it if only I could think of anything reasonable to discuss with him.’

‘You’ll think of it, never fear,’ said the Viscount encouragingly. ‘Why, you’ve got the whole afternoon before you. Now you go round to Grosvenor Square at once, there’s a good fellow.’

‘I wish to God I’d put off my visit to town till next week!’ groaned Captain Heron, reluctantly picking up his hat again.

The Earl of Rule was just about to go in to luncheon when his second visitor was announced. ‘Captain Heron?’ he said. ‘Oh, by all means show him in!’ He waited, standing before the empty fireplace until the Captain came in. ‘Well, Heron?’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘You come just in time to bear me company over luncheon.’

Captain Heron blushed in spite of himself. ‘I’m afraid I can’t stay, sir. I’m due in Whitehall almost immediately. I came – you know my time is limited – I came to ask you whether it would be convenient – in short, whether I might wait on you this evening for – for a talk of a confidential nature.’

The Earl’s amused glance rested on him thoughtfully. ‘I suppose it must be to-night?’ he said.

‘Well, sir – if you could arrange – I hardly know how I may manage to-morrow,’ said Captain Heron, acutely uncomfortable.

There was a slight pause. ‘Then naturally I am quite at your service,’ replied his lordship.

The Viscount, resplendent in maroon velvet, with a fall of Dresden lace at his throat, and his hair thickly powdered and curled in pigeon’s wings over the ears, came at his sister’s urgent request to dine in Grosvenor Square before taking her on to Vauxhall. His presence protected her from a tête-à-tête and if Rule was minded to ask any more awkward questions he, she considered, was better able to answer them than she was.

The Earl, however, behaved with great consideration and conversed affably on most unexceptionable topics. The only bad moment he gave them was when he promised to follow them to Vauxhall if Captain Heron did not detain him at home too long.

‘But we’ve no need to worry over that,’ said the Viscount as he got into his coach beside Horatia. ‘Edward’s pledged himself to keep Rule in check till midnight, and by that time we shall have laid hands on that trumpery brooch of yours at last.’

‘It isn’t a trumpery b-brooch!’ said Horatia. ‘It’s an heirloom!’

‘It may be an heirloom,’ replied the Viscount, ‘but it’s caused more trouble than any heirloom was ever worth, and I’ve come to hate the very mention of it.’

The coach set them down by the waterside, where the Viscount hired a boat to take them the rest of the way. They had three hours to while away before midnight and neither of them was in the mood for dancing. Sir Roland Pommeroy met them at the entrance to the gardens and was very punctilious in handing Horatia out of the boat on to the landing-stage, warning her against wetting her silk-shod foot on a damp patch, and proffering his arm with a great air. As he escorted her down one of the walks towards the centre of the gardens he begged her not to be nervous. ‘Assure your la’ship Pel and I shall be on the watch!’ he said.

‘I’m not n-nervous,’ replied Horatia, ‘I w-want very much to see Lord Lethbridge, for I have a great desire to tell him just what I think of him!’ Her dark eyes smouldered. ‘If it weren’t for the scandal,’ she announced, ‘I d-declare I wish he would abduct me, I would make him sorry he d-dared!’

A glance at her fierce frown almost persuaded Sir Roland that she would.

When they arrived at the pavilion they found that in addition to the dancing and the other amusements provided for the entertainment of the company, an oratorio was being performed in the concert hall. Since neither the Viscount nor his sister wished to dance, Sir Roland suggested that they should sit for a while and listen to this. He himself had no great opinion of music, but the only distraction likely to find favour with the Viscount or Horatia was gaming, and he wisely dissuaded them from entering the card-room, on the score that once they had sat down to pharaoh or loo they would entirely forget the real object of their expedition.

Horatia fell in with this suggestion readily enough: diversions were all alike to her until the ring-brooch was in her possession again. The Viscount said that he supposed it could not be more tedious than walking about the gardens or sitting in one of the boxes with nothing to do but to watch the other people passing by. Accordingly they made their way to the concert hall and went in. A play-bill handed them at the door advertised that the oratorio was Susanna, by Handel, a circumstance that nearly made the Viscount turn back at once. If he had known it was a piece by that fellow Handel, nothing would have induced him to come within earshot of it, much less to have paid half a guinea for a ticket. He had once been obliged by his Mama to accompany her to a performance of Judas Maccabeus. Of course he had not had the remotest notion what it would be like or not even filial duty would have dragged him to it, but he did know now and he was damned if he would stand it a second time.

A dowager in an enormous turban who was seated at the end of the row said ‘Hush!’ in accents so severe that the Viscount subsided meekly into his chair and whispered to Sir Roland: ‘Must try and get out of this, Pom!’ However, even his audacity failed before the ordeal of squeezing past the knees of so many musical devotees again, and after glancing wildly to right and left he resigned himself to slumber. The hardness of his chair and the noise the performers made rendered sleep impossible, and he sat in increasing indignation until at long last the oratorio came to an end.

‘W-well, I think perhaps I d-don’t care very much for Handel either,’ remarked Horatia, as they filed out of the hall. ‘Though now I c-come to think of it, I believe M-mama said that Susanna was not a very good oratorio. Some of the singing was p-pretty, wasn’t it?’

‘Never heard such a din in my life!’ said the Viscount. ‘Let’s go and bespeak some supper.’

Green goose and burgundy partaken of in one of the boxes did much to restore his equanimity, and he had just told Horatia that they might as well stay where they were in comfort until midnight, when Sir Roland, who had been studying the throng through his quizzing-glass, suddenly said: ‘Ain’t that Miss Winwood, Pel?’

The Viscount nearly choked over his wine. ‘Good God, where?’

Horatia set down her glass of ratafia. ‘Ch-Charlotte?’ she gasped.

‘Over there – blue sacque – pink ribbons,’ said Sir Roland, pointing.

‘I c-can’t see, but it sounds very l-like,’ said Horatia pessimistically. ‘She will wear blue and it d-doesn’t become her in the least.’

By this time the Viscount had perceived his elder sister, and gave a groan. ‘Ay, it’s Charlotte sure enough. Lord, she’s with Theresa Maulfrey!’

Horatia caught up her cloak and her reticule and retired to the back of the box. ‘If Theresa sees us she’ll c-come and join us, and we shall n-never shake her off!’ she said agitatedly. ‘P-Pel, do come away!’

The Viscount consulted his watch. ‘Eleven o’clock. What the deuce do we do now?’

‘We shall have to w-walk about the gardens,’ decided Horatia. ‘D-dodge them, you know.’

Apparently Mrs Maulfrey’s guests were also seized by an inclination to wander about the gardens. No less than five times did the two parties almost converge and the Viscount whisk his sister round to hurry off down a different path, and when the conspirators at last found a secluded seat in the Lover’s Walk the Viscount sank down upon it quite exhausted and declared that his sister might in the future lose every jewel in the Drelincourt collection before he would stir a finger to help her to recover them.

Sir Roland always gallant, protested. ‘Pel, dear old boy, Pel!’ he said reprovingly. ‘Assure your la’ship – pleasure to be of assistance!’

‘You can’t say it’s a pleasure to dodge round shrubberies and corners for the best part of an hour!’ objected the Viscount. ‘Not but what if we can but lay hands on Lethbridge I don’t say it won’t have been worth it.’

‘What are you g-going to do with him?’ inquired Horatia with interest.

‘Never you mind!’ replied the Viscount darkly, and exchanged a glance with Sir Roland. ‘What do you make the time, Pom?’

Sir Roland consulted his watch. ‘All but ten minutes to the hour, Pel.’

‘Well, we’d best be moving,’ said the Viscount, getting up.

Sir Roland laid a hand on his arm. ‘Just thought of something,’ he said. ‘Suppose we find someone else in the temple?’

‘Not at midnight,’ replied the Viscount, having considered the matter. ‘Everyone’s at supper. Lethbridge must have thought of that. Are you ready, Horry? You ain’t scared?’

‘Of c-course I’m not scared!’ said Horatia scornfully.

‘Well, don’t forget what you’ve to do,’ said the Viscount. ‘We’ll leave you at the bottom of the Long Walk. Won’t do to escort you any further. Fellow might be watching. All you have to do –’

‘D-don’t tell me all over again, P-Pel!’ begged Horatia. ‘You and Sir R-Roland will go to the temple the other way and hide and I am to g-go slowly up the Long Walk. And I’m not in the least afraid, except of meeting Charlotte.’

Several secluded paths led to the little temple at the end of the Long Walk, and since it was conveniently surrounded by flowering shrubs the Viscount and Sir Roland had no difficulty in concealing themselves hard by it. Sir Roland, indeed, was unfortunate enough to scratch himself on a particularly thorny rose-bush, but as there was no one within earshot at the moment this did not signify.

Meanwhile Horatia trod up the Long Walk, keeping a wary eye cocked for any sign of her sister. The Viscount had been right in supposing that most of the company would be at supper; Horatia met few people on the way. One or two couples were strolling down the Walk; near the lower end a party of young ladies were ogling in a very ill-bred manner every gentleman who passed; but towards the upper end the Walk grew more and more deserted. Encountering at first one or two stares from young bucks, Horatia felt rather conspicuous in being quite unattended, but her alarming frown stood her in good stead, and a rakish gentleman in puce satin who had taken a step in her direction retreated hastily.

The Walk was lit by coloured lamps, but a fine moon riding high in the sky made these almost superfluous, though pretty. At the end of the Walk Horatia could see the little temple, incongruously festooned with lanterns. She wondered where her faithful swains were lying in ambush and what Captain Heron was talking about in Grosvenor Square.

A few shallow steps led up to the temple. Feeling in spite of her brave words just a trifle apprehensive, Horatia paused at the foot of them and glanced nervously around. She thought that she had caught the sound of footsteps.

She was right. Someone was approaching down one of the smaller paths that led to the temple.

She drew her cloak closer about her shoulders, hesitated a moment, and then setting her lips firmly ran up the steps and into the temple.

The footsteps came nearer and she heard them on the steps and resolutely faced the pillared archway, secure in the knowledge that Pelham was within hail.

She was prepared for Lethbridge, or for a masked form, or even for a hired ruffian, but none of these sinister apparitions met her bemused gaze. It was the Earl of Rule who stood on the threshold.

‘R-Rule!’ she stammered. ‘Oh, d-dear, whatever shall – I – I mean how you s-startled me! I was waiting for P-Pelham, I n-never expected to see you!’

The Earl came across the marble floor to her side. ‘You see, I was able to – er – escape from Edward,’ he said.

Outside, Sir Roland Pommeroy whispered aghast: ‘Pel – Pel, dear fellow – did you see?’

‘See?’ hissed the Viscount. ‘Of course I saw! Now what’s to be done? The devil seize that fool Heron!’

Inside, Horatia said with a hollow little laugh: ‘How – how d-delightful that you c-could come after all! Have – have you had s-supper?’

‘No,’ replied his lordship. ‘I didn’t come for supper, you know. I came to find you.’

Horatia forced a smile. ‘That was very p-pretty of you, sir. But – but you should take some s-supper. Do pray g-go and bespeak a b-box and I will w-wait for P-Pel and bring him to join you.’

The Earl looked down at her whimsically. ‘My dear, you are very anxious to be rid of me, are you not?’

Horatia’s eyes lifted quickly to his, brimful of sudden tears. ‘N-no, I am not! Only I – oh, I c-can’t explain!’ she said wretchedly.

‘Horry,’ said his lordship, gathering her hands into his, ‘once I thought you trusted me.’

‘I do – oh, I do!’ cried Horatia. ‘Only I’ve been such a bad wife, and I did m-mean not to get into a scrape while you were away, and though it w-wasn’t my fault it n-never would have happened if I hadn’t d-disobeyed you and l-let Lethbridge be a f-friend of mine, and even if you b-believe me, which I d-don’t see how you can, because it’s such an impossible story, you w-won’t ever forgive me for having m-made another d-dreadful scandal!’

The Earl retained his hold on her hands. ‘But, Horry, what have I done that you should think me such a bugbear?’

‘You aren’t a bugbear!’ she said vehemently. ‘But I know you’ll w-wish you’d never m-married me when you hear what a scrape I am in!’

‘It would have to be a very bad scrape to make me wish that,’ said his lordship.

‘W-well, it is,’ replied Horatia candidly. ‘And it’s all in such a m-muddle I don’t know how to explain it.’ She cast an anxious glance towards the archway. ‘I d-daresay you are wondering why I am in this place all by m-myself. Well –’

‘Not at all,’ said Rule. ‘I know why you are here.’

She blinked at him. ‘B-but you can’t know!’

‘But I do,’ said Rule gently. ‘You came to meet me.’

‘No, I d-didn’t,’ said Horatia. ‘In fact, I c-can’t imagine how you knew I was here.’

His eyes were alight with amusement. ‘Can’t you, Horry?’

‘N-no, unless –’ her brows snapped together. ‘Oh, surely Edward c-can’t have b-betrayed me?’ she exclaimed.

‘Certainly not,’ said his lordship. ‘Edward made a most – really, a most praiseworthy – attempt to keep me at home. Indeed, I believe that if I had not taken him into my confidence he would have barred me into my own house.’ He slipped his hand into his pocket and drew it out again. ‘I came, Horry, to keep an assignation with a lady, and to restore to her – that.’

The ring-brooch lay in the palm of his hand. Horatia gave a choked cry. ‘M-Marcus!’ Her startled eyes flew to his and saw them smiling down at her. ‘Then you – but how? Where did you f-find it?’

‘In Lord Lethbridge’s possession,’ replied Rule.

‘Then – then you know? You knew all the t-time? But how c-could you have? Who t-told you?’

‘Crosby told me,’ said the Earl. ‘I am afraid I was rather rough with him, but I didn’t think it would be good for him to know how deeply I was indebted to him.’

‘Crosby!’ said Horatia, her eyes kindling. ‘Well, I don’t care if he is your cousin, Rule, I think he is the m-most odious toad alive and I hope you strangled him!’

‘I did,’ said the Earl.

‘I am very glad to hear it,’ said Horatia warmly. ‘And if it was he who t-told you, you c-can’t possibly know the t-truth, because for one th-thing he wasn’t there and d-doesn’t know anything about it, and for another I am perfectly certain he made up some horrid t-tale just to put you against me!’

‘That would be a task quite beyond Crosby’s power,’ said the Earl, pinning the brooch into her lace. ‘I learned the true story from Lethbridge. But it did not need his or any man’s word, Horry, to convince me that only force could have induced you to enter Lethbridge’s house that night.’