Faro’s Daughter

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.”

Arabella pouted. “Oh, that is so stuffy, and I did not think you would be that! When you are married to Adrian, I shall visit you often, I warn you!”

“Ah, then!” said Deborah, smiling. “That is another matter.”

So Arabella went away, and was handed into her carriage by Mr Kennet, who told her that he for one was very sorry to think he should not see her in St. James’s Square again, since he had had the oddest feeling when he had entered the saloon that the sun had got into it.

“It is a very sunny day,” said Arabella demurely.

“But the saloon looks north,” Mr Kennet reminded her. “Sure, there’s no accounting for it at all!”

Arabella’s dimples peeped out. “It is very strange indeed,” she agreed, as innocent as a kitten.

“I wonder, now, do you ever walk in the Park?” asked Kennet.

“Why sometimes I do!” said Arabella. “In the morning, with my maid.” She paused, and added, with the naughtiest glean in her eye: “The most discreet creature!”

He was still holding her tiny, gloved hand in his, and he pinched one of her fingers, and said, chuckling: “Miss Ravenscar, you’re the prettiest rogue I’ve clapped eyes on this many a day! It will be a queer thing, so it will, if we do not meet in the Park, one of these fine days.”

“Oh, do you walk there too?” asked Arabella ingenuously. “Then I daresay we shall meet—one of these fine days!”

She withdrew her hand, and Mr Kennet laughed, and signaled to the coachman to drive on.

Mr Ravenscar, meanwhile, in happy ignorance of his half sister’s activities, had received another letter from St James’ Square, written in the same sloping characters as the first, but in far more agitated language. The letter hinted at unforeseen complications, held out a vague hope of capitulation, but ex pressed a desire on the part of the writer to meet him for the purpose of explaining the awkwardness of the situation. Mr Kennet, improvising freely in the guise of Miss Grantham wrote that it was imperative that Lady Bellingham should, know nothing either of this correspondence or of the propose negotiations, and desired Mr Ravenscar to be so obliging a to reply under cover to Mr Lucius Kennet, at 66 Jermyn Street.

Mr Ravenscar found himself at a loss to understand either the mysterious references in the letter, or the need for discussion of his ultimatum, and wrote, as requested, to say. This brought forth a distracted note, the gist of which left him with the impression that Lady Bellingham, and not Miss Grantham, was the prime mover in the plot, to entrap Lord Mablethorpe; and indicated a fear of her aunt on Miss Grantham’s part which would have astonished both ladies, had the been privileged to see this remarkable letter. It ended by begging Mr Ravenscar to do Miss Grantham the favour of meeting her at a rendezvous in the Park, on Wednesday afternoon at dusk, when she engaged herself to explain fully to him how matters stood, and to do what lay in her power to comply wit his wishes.

Mr Ravenscar, being almost wholly unacquainted with Lady Bellingham, saw nothing incredible in the suggestion that he niece might be acting under her compulsion. He was even conscious of a faint feeling of satisfaction, and was not entirely averse from meeting Miss Grantham again. Mr Kennet, accordingly, was gratified to receive, on the following day, a brief intimation from Mr Ravenscar that he would present himself at the rendezvous.

Silas Wantage, informed of the success of a strategem which had had his full support, grunted, and said that Mr Kennet might leave the rest to him.

“My good man, Ravenscar’s no Jessamy!” Kennet said impatiently. “He boxes with Mendoza!”

“Handy with his fives, is he?” said Silas. “I thought when he walked in here that night as how he’d strip to advantage. Well, it’ll suit me fine to have a turn-up with him. I haven’t had a good set-to since I don’t know when.”

“Understand, Silas, this is no sporting event!” said Kennet. “Miss Deborah wants Ravenscar delivered to her without commotion. There will be no turn-up.”

Mr Wantage seemed dissatisfied with this ruling, and shook his head disapprovingly at Lucius Kennet’s plan of clubbing the victim into insensibility. But when it had, been shown to him that an impromptu turn-up in the Park, even at dusk and in a little-frequented locality, could scarcely fail to attract attention, he yielded the point, and promised to assist Kennet to accomplish the business with the least possible amount of uproar.

Lady Bellingham’s thoughts were diverted upon Wednesday afternoon by the arrival from Kent of Mr Christopher Grantham, in all the glory of his scarlet regimentals.

Kit Grantham was three years younger than his sister. He was a pleasant-looking young man, fairer than Deborah, and without her brilliance of eye. From the circumstance of his having been granted every indulgence by his doting aunt, he had grown up to be rather spoilt, and not much inclined to consider the wishes of other people, but this selfishness arose more from thoughtlessness than from any badness of disposition, and he was in general very well-liked, having amiable manners, a good seat on a horse, and an open-handed nature which led him to spend a great deal of money in the sort of hospitality appreciated by his friends in the regiment.

He had not been to London on leave for above a year, so that his aunt and sister were delighted to see him, and could not fail to notice many changes in him, due to his advancing years. They hung about him in the fondest way, and found him all that a young officer should be. He was glad to be with them again, kissed them both most affectionately, and did his best to answer all their eager questions. But Deborah’s asking him if he were happy in his career, and liked the other officers in the 14th, recalled to his mind its most pressing preoccupation, and he immediately adverted to the desirability of his exchanging into a cavalry regiment.

Deborah said at once that he must put such an idea out of his head, since the cost of it would be too great.

“Oh, but it would not be above eight hundred pounds, and very likely less, with the exchange money!” Kit assured her. “I have a particular reason for wishing to be in a better regiment. You know, it is shabby work to be in a Line regiment, Deb! Only think how well a Hussar uniform would become your only brother!”

Miss Grantham, however, was impervious to his cajolery, and replied: “Indeed, Kit, it would be impossible! Poor Aunt Lizzie has had such losses lately that you would not wish her to be put to extra expense on your account.”

“Oh no. But you are bound to come about again, ma’am, I am persuaded! You would like to see me in a pelisse and silver lace, now, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, but I do not know how it may be managed, dearest,” said Lady Bellingham, looking very much distressed. “You have no idea what a charge this house is upon me! And now here is—” She broke off, as she encountered a warning glance from her niece, and said hurriedly: “But that we shall say nothing about! We will talk of it later, Kit.”

“But you are living in such famous style here!” he said, looking about him critically. “I never saw anything to equal it. It must have cost a fortune to furnish this house!”

“Well, that is just it,” replied his aunt. “It did cost a fortune, not that it is paid for yet, because no one could possibly pay such bills as the wretched people are for ever dunning me with, but the thing is that everyone wants to run upon tick nowadays, and the times are so bad I declare it is a rarity to see a rouleau of as much as twenty guineas! And the E.O. table does not answer as well as we had hoped, besides being not quite the style of thing I like to have in my house.”

“An E.O. table!” he repeated, in astonished accents. “My dear ma’am, you do not have that here, surely?”

“Why not?” asked his sister, in rather a hard voice. “This is a gaming-house, Kit.”

He stirred uneasily in his chair, and began to talk about private parties.

“Oh, we send out cards of invitation, but we turn no one away from our door who has a few guineas to risk at the tables!” Deborah said.

It was evident that he could not like this, but as he stood a little in awe of his sister he did not say much until she had left the room. He turned then to Lady Bellingham, and desired her to tell him what could have possessed her to change the character of her evening-parties.

It had been agreed between Deborah and Lady Bellingham that nothing should be told Kit about the mortgage on the house, or Mr Ravenscar’s threats to foreclose, but her ladyship divulged the rest of the story, not omitting the scandalous bill for green peas, or the inclusion in the household of Phoebe Laxton. Kit was quite bewildered, and had the greatest difficulty in unravelling the story. His sense of propriety, offended at the outset by the discovery that his aunt’s select card-parties had sadly deteriorated, was still more severely tried by the knowledge that an attempt had been made to bribe his sister into relinquishing her claims to Lord Mablethorpe’s title and fortune; but he said, in a fair-minded way, that if she had been allowed for the past year to preside over the saloons of what had become no better than a common gaming-house, he was not at all surprised, and could not blame Mablethorpe’s relations for misliking the connexion.

Lady Bellingham wept, and never thought of telling him that his own expensive habits had had much to do in making it necessary for her to turn her home into a gaming-house. She said that it was all very unlucky, but indeed she had not known where to turn for money to pay the tradesmen. As for Deb, if only she could be brought to marry Mablethorpe, there would be no harm done, but, on the contrary, a great deal of good. “For she met him at the faro-table, you know, Kit, and even if he is a little young for her, it would be a splendid match!”

“I cannot think what can possess her to refuse such an eligible offer!” exclaimed Mr Grantham. “Particularly now, when it would mean everything to me to have my sister in a position of consequence! However, she knows nothing of that yet, and I daresay she will change her mind when I tell her.”

“Tell her what, dear boy?” asked his aunt, drying her eyes. “I assure you, she will listen to no one! Indeed, I think she has taken leave of her senses!”

Mr Grantham coloured, stammered, and then said in a self-conscious voice: “The fact is, ma’am, I expect—that is, I hope—I believe I may say that I have every reason to think that—t—in short, aunt, I am in the expectation of being married herself shortly. You will recall that I mentioned the subject to you in a letter.”

“Oh, yes!” said her ladyship, sighing. “But Deb says she cannot possibly be meaning to get married yet, and indeed Kit, you are very young to be thinking of such a thing!”

“Deb is a great deal too busy!” said Kit, affronted. “She never been in love, so I may not be either! But if you could only see her, aunt!”

“But I do see her!” objected her ladyship. “What can you thinking of, Kit?”

“Not Deb! Arabella!” said Mr Grantham, pronouncing name in a reverent tone.

“Oh!” said his aunt. “But it will cost you far more to be married than if you were to stay single, dearest. You can have notion what housekeeping bills are like! Only fancy! Seven pounds for green peas!”

“Well, as to that,” said Mr Grantham, reddening still more. “Arabella is quite an heiress. Not that I mean to live upon fortune, which is one reason why I should like to exchange ma’am. But she comes of one of the best families, and all hinges upon my being found acceptable by her guardian. It would above anything great if Deb were to become Lady Mablethorpe! Only think what a difference it would make.”

“Very true, my dear, but you will never prevail with him,” said his aunt gloomily. “It would make a great difference too.”

“And instead of this,” pursued Mr Grantham, with a strong sense of injury, “I find that this house has become little more than a gaming-hell! Nothing could be more unfortunate! I think you should have been more careful, ma’am!”

Lady Bellingham was quite crushed by this severity, but could not feel that Kit had entirely grasped the exigencies of her situation. She tried, in a half-hearted way, to make him understand how difficult it was for a widow with expensive tastes and a nephew and a niece dependent upon her to live a restricted income, but as his mind seemed to be all wholly taken up with his own problems, it was doubtful if attended to much that she said. At the first pause in her rambling explanation, he favoured her with a description of Arabella’s manifold charms, and expressed his conviction that if anything were to stand between him and marriage to his lady, he should find himself unable to support life, and might just as well blow his brains out and be done with it.

Lady Bellingham was horrified to hear such sentiments on his lips, and begged him to consider her nerves. His sister, when the conversation was reported to her, merely replied that she had listened to much the same stuff from Lord Mablethorpe, who was now falling in love with Phoebe as fast as he could.

“But Kit is so impulsive!” sighed Lady Bellingham. “I must say, it would be a splendid thing if he were to marry an heiress, my love, and I am very sorry if anything I have done should put a spoke in his wheel.”

“How dare Kit say such a thing to you?” exclaimed Deborah. “I never heard of anything so ungrateful in my life! If he talks in that vein to me, he shall soon hear what I think of his folly! As for his marrying an heiress, pooh! It will come to nothing, ma’am, for he has been in love a dozen times before, and will doubtless be in love a dozen times again. Who is the girl?”

“Oh, I don’t know! He did not tell me, and I was too distracted to ask! My dearest love, he is not at all pleased with us for keeping a gaming-house, and what he will say if he hears of the mortgage, and that horrid man’s foreclosing on me, I shudder to think!”

“You have nothing to worry about on that score, aunt: there will be no foreclosure.”

Miss Grantham spoke with a note of certainty in her voice, for she had received a note, brought round by hand from Mr Kennet’s lodging, reminding her to prepare her cellar for a guest. She had implicit faith in Kennet, and felt perfectly sure that he would contrive to deliver the arch-enemy into her hands by nightfall. Lady Bellingham was expecting a fairly numerous gathering of people in her saloons that evening, and the only question now troubling Miss Grantham was how Kennet and Silas would manage to carry their prisoner into the cellar unobserved. As she could think of no way by which she might assist them, and supposed they must have taken this problem into account, she very sensibly put it out of her head, and went upstairs to change her green saque for an evening gown of dull yellow brocade.

Lady Bellingham had meanwhile presented her nephew to Miss Laxton, first impressing on him that he must not divulge her presence in the house to a living soul. His sister had already explained to him the circumstances leading up to Phoebe’s arrival in St James’s Square, and although he was inclined to think it was excessively imprudent of her to have interfered with what was no concern of hers, he was not proof against the al peal of Phoebe’s soft brown eyes, and air of fragility, and so began to think Deborah had acted in a very proper manner.

He had very little opportunity to converse privately wit Deborah before she went up to change her dress, but he did catch her alone for a few minutes on her way down again to the dining-room, and begged her to tell him whether it was true that she had refused a very advantageous offer of marriage. She replied truthfully that she had not done so, but when she saw how his face brightened she added that she had no real intention of marrying Mablethorpe, although she did not at preset wish this known.

“You are the strangest girl!” he exclaimed. “Why don’t you mean to marry him? I am sure you cannot hope for a better offer! They say he will come into a very pretty fortune, and aunt tells me he is perfectly amiable. I do not know what can ail you!”

“I am not in love with him,” replied Deborah, adding with rather a saucy smile: “You will understand that, I am persuaded!”

He sighed. “Yes, indeed I do, but the cases are not the same. You do not love anyone else, do you?”

“Certainly not, but I am not too old yet to fall in love, I hope

He looked at her rather anxiously. “My aunt mentioned Lord Ormskirk, Deb. I could not well make out what she meant: you know how she will run on! But it did not sound to me—In short, you are not contemplating anything of clandestine nature, are you?”

“No, no!” she assured him. “You need have no fears!”

“I was sure you could not be! But everything seems to me topsy-turvy here now—But I can trust you!”

“I hope so indeed. But can I trust you, Kit? This is very: shocking news, that you are meaning to be married!”

He laughed, and squeezed her arm. “You will always funning! Wait until you see her! You will understand then. She is the tiniest, daintiest little darling you can imagine, at with such countenance, such pretty, taking ways! Only ten one they will not let her marry me, more particularly since her aunt has allowed her house to become a haunt of gamesters. I was never so vexed!”

“If you do not like it, let me advise you to be less expensive said Deborah roundly. “It is not for you to reproach Aunt Lizzie, after all! You cannot suppose that she keeps a gaminghouse from her own choice.”

He looked a good deal mortified, and muttered something about having had no idea that things had come to this pass. “I suppose it was Lucius who put the idea into my aunt’s head. I wonder that he should have encouraged you to lend yourself to it!”

“My dear Kit, Lucius has no such nice notions! I could not leave my aunt to struggle alone. You must understand too that I am considered an attraction in the saloons!”

“How can you talk so! I declare, it makes me inclined to sell out. I do not like to have my sister playing hostess to a set of gamesters! Where is Lucius? Shall I see him tonight?”

“Undoubtedly,” replied Deborah, thinking that Lucius Kennet ought by now to be on his way to the house, and hoping very much that he had not failed to accomplish his task.