The Determined Bachelor (5 page)

“They have not changed a whit in five hundred years, Diana, and I suppose it is too much to expect they shall do so now, for no more cause than a Napoleon.”

“Still, it is some compensation,” responded the lady with a
smile, “to inhabit Pauline's Palace, I expect. And a pretty penny Wellington persuaded us to pay for it. Tell me—for you must see by now that I am no better than an eager, gaping
curioso
—did she really appear at one of your balls? I am told she came in upon the Duke's arm, and was stared into extinction at once. I wonder she had the audacity to show her face, with her brother finally stanched.”

Sir Basil regarded his friend with a smile. No one could have been less vulgar than this lady, with her tall erect figure, her proud carriage, and luminous, intelligent brown eyes. She was all refinement, so much so that she could afford to inquire thus eagerly into the goings-on at the British Embassy without ever seeming vulgar. What a world of difference lay between her charming self-mockery and the vapid curiosity of his sister-in-law!

“No, my dear Diana,” he assured her with just a trace of sardonic drawl—for it was his privilege also to tease
her
upon occasion—“you may be sure that you have not missed the famous Pauline. I believe she is safely reconciled with her husband, Prince Borghese, now that her funds have been cut off by Napoleon. I think the instance you speak of was at the second ball of my tenure, when a very similar-appearing lady was present, whom everyone thought at first to be Pauline but who in truth was the American Miss Patterson, now married to Napoleon's cousin.”

“I do believe,” said Lady Diana after a moment's pause, with a playful twinkle in her eye, “that I am in danger of growing envious. How I should adore to see it all myself!”

“Why do not you come, then?” demanded Sir Basil, rising and going to a window which looked out upon the eastern gardens, now russet and ocher under a pale sun. “Why do not you come? I should be delighted to have you at the Embassy, which I am sure you are longing to explore from cellar to attic in search of any remains of Pauline's dubious past. There are more Englishmen in Paris at the moment almost than Frenchmen—it is quite the going thing. In truth, I am quite perplexed why you have not seen fit to pay us a visit before this!”

“I should love to, you know,” murmured Lady Diana, almost wistfully, “but even if I could afford the time away from my writing table, I could not raise the funds. My faithful retinue of friends must be the sole source of my information. Perhaps next year—but, in truth, I ought not even to think of it.”

Sir Basil looked sharply back from the view he had been perusing. “Why, are you really embarrassed for money, Diana? To look about, I cannot imagine it is true.”

“And yet I am afraid it is,” said Lady Diana, rising and walking to the bell cord, which she tugged, then taking her place beside the Baronet and staring out over the acres of carefully tended gardens.

“What you see is deceptive, I fear. Between them, Cardovan and my father's legacy are adequate for the maintenance of house and grounds, but above that, I have barely a penny to spare. And then, you know, I am such a poor spoilt creature. I will have my dinners, and my little balls, and cannot abide mediocre wine. No, no—my books are sufficient to live upon comfortably at home, so long as I do not indulge in any great extravagance; but to go abroad—I hardly think so!”

“And yet,” insisted the Baronet, “if you were to close down only this portion of the gardens, Diana—only this one portion of all the park and gardens—I am sure it would cover your expenses to Paris. Why, what can your expenses be? Only your passage, and perhaps some little items of luxury once you are there. For the rest, I should provide everything you need.”

Lady Cardovan seemed torn for a moment and almost appeared to give in, but with a sudden movement she raised her hand, as if to brush away her friend's absurdity, and went back to take her place upon the sofa.

“My dear, generous friend!” she murmured, patting the place beside her with a beringed hand, “do be still. I shall not listen to any more today. Perhaps another time—well, we shall see. But now you are here, and you are the only sight I should really be traveling for, if I
was
to come. Do let us
now
only be grateful for that. So,” she continued, briskly changing the subject, for she saw by her friend's look that he was prepared to be stubborn, “you are here. But for how long? And you have not even told me what has brought you back. I suppose,” with a mocking, pettish look, “it is some great matter of state which you cannot share with me?”

“On the contrary,” replied the Ambassador, suddenly remembering his most pressing business and coming to sit down again beside his hostess, “it is of a rather more personal nature than that, and I have every intention of telling you about it. Or rather, asking you about it, for it is a matter which demands the counsel of a clever woman.”

“Oh, la! Now we are very impetuous! Sir Basil Ives, determined and eternal misogynist, in need of a
woman's
advice!”

“Don't tease me, Diana,” he reproached her, “for I really am at my wits' end.”

Lady Diana knew how to tease, but she knew equally well how to be serious. She saw by her friend's look that he was distressed, and in an instant, with the most minute change of her expression and her posture, she became the artful listener so much depended upon by her admirers. This pose lasted for a mere second, however, for suddenly a look of vast dismay came over her face and she cried out, “Why, Basil! You have not compromised some poor French girl or other, have you?”

“
Do
be still, Diana!” exclaimed the Baronet irritably. “I have really a most awful problem, and wish you would tell me what to do.”

Sir Basil paused, glanced suspiciously at Lady Diana, who had resumed her solemn and demure look, and at last proceeded, “I appear to be encumbered by a child.”

“Good God! This is worse than I thought!”

“A child, however, who is not my own, and hardly any relation at all.”

“Dear me, was there a basket deposited upon the steps of the Borghese Palace?”

Sir Basil pretended not to have heard.

“I had a letter from my solicitor not two weeks ago in which he informed me that I have just been named guardian to one Nicole Lessington, a child of nine. How I came to be thought of as a suitable guardian for a little girl, I have not the remotest idea. Be that as it may, her father, who was a distant relation of my mother's, saw fit to do so, and I appear to have been made a father overnight.”

Lady Diana did not know what to say. She was too surprised and too curious to say anything, in fact, and simply nodded her head impatiently.

“The fact is, I am in a devil of a quandary, Diana.”

“So it would seem, Basil. But go on, go on—tell us the details. Where is the child now, and who was Mr. Lessington?”

“The child is in Lincolnshire at present, but arrangements have been made to transport her to London as soon as I have determined where she will stay. Which, in all honesty, I cannot say I shall ever do at this rate. I had hoped she might go to my brother and Lady Hargate, but after spending an evening beneath their roof, it seems to me there could not be a
less suitable home for any child, much less one who is not used to battling for her food and air. My sister-in-law appears not to have advanced much since she saw sixteen herself, and how she manages her own children is a question I would not dare to answer.”

Lady Diana hid her smiles.

“Our dear Louisa, I'm afraid, is somewhat perplexed about life.”

Sir Basil gave her a meaningful look. “That is a charitable way of putting it, Diana. I never saw a more feather-brained creature in my life! She seems to think there is no greater subject for debate than the superiority of muslin to silk. But then. . . .”

Sir Basil did not continue. Lady Diana, however, saw his look of momentary embarrassment and finished for him.

“But then, she is only a woman? Your opinion of my poor sex is not much improved since last I saw you, Basil.”

“Oh, well!” replied he with a smile, “what should that bother you, as I have always considered
you
as so much better than the rest, that you might almost be a different race.”

“Almost a man, do you mean?” Lady Diana smiled. “If that is meant to be a compliment, my dear friend, you may take it back. I have no desire to be a man, and am so unlike your account of me, that I am almost proud of being a female! Only imagine that! But here, we are veering entirely away from the subject. You and I shall never agree upon this point, I am afraid. I had once hoped to persuade you to my side, but in ten years you have not budged so much as an inch in your opinion.” Lady Cardovan paused and, smiling, drew a breath. “As to the child, however, I am quite agreed in your opinion that your brother and his wife ought not to be encumbered with another. I have heard Louisa complain often enough about her own offspring to be convinced of that. In any case, she was awarded to your custody. Mr. Lessington, I suppose, might have given over his daughter to Hargate himself, had he wished. Why do you suppose he did not? Your brother, after all, is the elder, has a family of his own, and is in every outward wise a more suitable guardian to a child.”

“That,” said Sir Basil, rising again and walking to the fireplace, “is a point I have given some thought since I received the letter. Upon due consideration, it appears to me that Mr. Lessington—at least from what I have been able to ascertain—must
have meant his daughter to live in Paris. Perhaps he was eager for her to escape the confines of his own life, or wished her to acquire the refinements which are sometimes thought to be only available in France. I do not—and indeed, I cannot—surmise otherwise.”

“What sort of a man was he?” demanded Lady Diana, more and more intrigued with this puzzle.

“A lawyer, as it happens,” replied Sir Basil with a wry smile, “and clever enough, it appears, to have written his wishes in such a way that I am incapable of reinterpreting them. A man, according to my own solicitor, well-respected in his profession and of comfortable, though modest, means. I believe he was the chief legal counselor in the region, and very well liked, for he seldom exacted his fee. Hence his daughter's present poverty, which I am afraid is extreme.”

“Poor child!” cried Lady Diana, for she had a very feeling heart. “And where is she now?”

“At an establishment in Lincolnshire.”

Lady Diana sat quietly for a moment, thinking. After several moments, she looked up with the shadow of a smile about her mouth. “I suppose you have not considered actually
doing
as you were asked—undertaking her care yourself?”

Sir Basil had been fiddling with a small ornament upon the mantle. His fiddling ceased abruptly and he looked up, shocked.

“My dearest lady! Only think what you are saying! I should not have the first inkling of how to raise a little girl!”

“Yes, you are perfectly right,” replied Lady Cardovan, complacently. “You should be the last person
I
should have wanted as a guardian when I was nine.”

Sir Basil stared back in silence, his lips pressed together.

“Thank you very much, your ladyship. Whatever your opinion of me—and it appears to be excessively low—I must remain steadfast in my decision. Even were I amiable enough to fulfill your ideas of what a guardian ought to be, I should be practically incapable of the task. What, indeed, would I know of schoolrooms and tantrums, of crinolines and music lessons?”

“Nothing, I suppose,” replied Lady Diana calmly. “Although you need know next to nothing about crinolines, as they have been out of fashion above twenty years.”

Lady Diana's words had been spoken lightly, but still she stared at him, and Sir Basil, feeling her eyes upon him, grew
more uncomfortable every moment. His expression was sullen, however. He saw exactly what his friend was about, and would not let her have her will of him. At length, however, as neither of them spoke, he burst out a little more irritably than he would have wished:

“I see what you are thinking, Diana, and I can tell you that it is absolutely impossible! Aside from the inconvenience it would cause me, and the compromises it would certainly entail in my work, it would be the least beneficient thing on earth for the child. Imagine growing up in a bachelor's house, without any other children to play with, no woman to care for her, none of the amenities of a family ready made! No, no, it would be absolutely unkind.”

“As to the effect it would have upon the child, Basil,” retorted Lady Diana, “I am almost in complete agreement with you, though not wholly so. Miss Lessington might actually derive as much benefit from such an existence as she would discomfort. Indeed, it was certainly what her father counted upon. But as to the effects it might have on
you
, I think they would all be advantageous.”

Sir Basil stared, disbelieving his ears. Could this really be his dear friend speaking, the champion of his reputation, the friend of his youth?

Lady Diana, unperturbed, continued after a moment. “Yes, indeed. The more I think upon it, the more favourable the whole idea appears. I cannot fathom a better education for
you
, who have been so utterly indulged by your own company these many years, than to be encumbered by another being—a being young enough to be a nuisance, and no doubt sensitive enough to demand your kindness and encouragement. A being, what's more, old enough to challenge your complacency.”