The Convenient Marriage

Chapter Eighteen

Sir Roland Pommeroy, returning empty-handed from his mission, found Horatia and her brother playing piquet together in the saloon. For once Horatia’s mind was not wholly concentrated on her cards, for no sooner was Sir Richard ushered in than she threw down her hand and turned eagerly towards him. “Have you g-got it?”

“Here, are you going to play this game, or not?” said the Viscount, more single-minded than his sister.

“No, of c-course not. Sir Roland, did he give it to you?”

Sir Roland waited carefully until the door was shut behind the footman and coughed. “Must warn you, ma’am—greatest caution needed before the servants. Affair to be hushed up—won’t do if it gets about.”

“Never mind about that,” said the Viscount impatiently. “Never had a servant yet who did not know all my secrets. Have you got the brooch?”

“No,” replied Sir Roland. “Deeply regret, ma’am, but Lord Lethbridge denies all knowledge.”

“B-but I know it’s there!” insisted Horatia. “You d-didn’t tell him it was mine, d-did you?”

“Certainly not, ma’am. Thought it all out on my way. Told him the brooch belonged to my great-aunt.”

The Viscount, who had been absently shuffling the pack, put the cards down at this. “Told him it belonged to your great-aunt?” he repeated. “Burn it, even if the fellow was knocked out, you’ll never get him to believe your great-aunt came tottering into his house at two in the morning! “Taint’ reasonable. What’s more, if he did believe it, you oughtn’t to set a tale like that going about your great-aunt.”

“My great-aunt is dead,” said Sir Roland with some sever-ity.”

“Well, that makes it worse,” said the Viscount. “You can’t expect a man like Lethbridge to listen to ghost stories.”

“Nothing to do with ghosts!” replied Sir Roland, nettled. “You’re not yourself, Pel. Told him it was a bequest.”

“B-but it’s a lady’s brooch!” said Horatia. “He c-can’t have believed you!”

“Oh, your pardon, ma’am, but indeed! Plausible story—told easily—nothing simpler. Unfortunately, not in his lordship’s possession. Consider, ma’am—agitation of the moment—brooch fell out in the street. Possible, you know, quite possible. Daresay you don’t recollect perfectly, but depend upon it that’s what happened.”

“I do recollect p-perfectly!” said Horatia. “I w-wasn’t drunk!”

Sir Roland was so much abashed at this that he relapsed into a blushful silence. It was left to the Viscount to expostulate. “Now, that’ll do Horry, that’ll do! Who said you were? Pom didn’t mean anything of the kind, did you, Pom?”

“N-no, but you were, b-both of you!” said Horatia.

“Never mind about that,” replied the Viscount hastily. “Nothing to do with the point. Pom may be right, though I don’t say he is. But if you did drop it in the street, there’s no more to be done. We can’t go all the way to Half-Moon Street hunting in the gutters.”

Horatia clasped his wrist. “P-Pel,” she said earnestly, “I d-did drop it in Lethbridge’s house. He tore my lace and it was p-pinned to it. It has a very stiff catch and c-couldn’t fall out just for n-no reason.”

“Well, if that’s so,” said the Viscount, “I’ll have to go and see Lethbridge myself. Ten to one it was all that talk about Pom’s great-aunt that made him suspicious.”

This plan did not commend itself to either of his hearers. Sir Roland was unable to believe that where tact had failed the Viscount’s crude methods were likely to succeed, and Horatia was terrified lest her hot-headed brother should attempt to recover the brooch at the sword’s point. A lively discussion was only interrupted by the entrance of the butler announcing luncheon.

Both the visitors partook of this meal with Horatia, the Viscount needing no persuasion, and Sir Roland very little. While the servants were in the room the subject of the brooch had necessarily to be abandoned, but no sooner were the covers withdrawn than Horatia took it up again just where it had been dropped, and said: “D-don’t you see, Pel, if you go to Lethbridge now that Sir Roland has already been, he m-must suspect the truth?”

“If you ask me,” replied the Viscount, “he knew all along. Great-aunt! Well, I’ve a better notion than that.”

“P-Pel, I do wish you wouldn’t!” said Horatia worriedly. “You know what you are! You fought Crosby, and there was a scandal. I know you’ll d-do the same with Lethbridge if you see him.”

“No, I shan’t,” answered the Viscount. “He’s a better swordsman than I am, but he ain’t a better shot.”

Sir Roland gaped at him. “Mustn’t make this a shooting affair, Pel. Sister’s reputation! Monstrous delicate matter.”

He broke off, for the door had opened.

“Captain Heron!” announced the footman.

There was a moment’s amazed silence. Captain Heron walked in, and pausing on the threshold, glanced smilingly round. “Well, Horry, don’t look at me as though you thought I was a ghost!” he said.

“Ghosts!” exclaimed the Viscount. “We’ve had enough of them. What brings you to town, Edward?”

Horatia had sprung up out of her chair. “Edward! Oh, have you brought L-Lizzie?”

Captain Heron shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, my dear, but Elizabeth is still in Bath. I am only in town for a few days.”

Horatia embraced him warmly. “Well, n-never mind. I am so very g-glad to see you, Edward. Oh, do you know Sir Roland P-Pommeroy?”

“I believe I have not that pleasure,” said Captain Heron, exchanging bows with Sir Roland. “Is Rule from home, Horry?”

“Yes, thank g-goodness!” she answered. “Oh, I d-don’t mean that, but I am in a d-dreadful fix, you see. Have you had luncheon?”

“I lunched in South Street. What has happened?”

“Painful affair,” said Sir Roland. “Best say nothing, ma’am.”

“Oh, Edward is perfectly safe! Why, he’s my brother-in-law. P-Pel, don’t you think perhaps Edward could help us?”

“No, I don’t,” said the Viscount bluntly. “We don’t want any help. I’ll get the brooch back for you.”

Horatia clasped Captain Heron’s arm. “Edward, p-please tell Pelham he m-mustn’t fight Lord L-Lethbridge! It would be fatal!”

“Fight Lord Lethbridge?” repeated Captain Heron. “It sounds a most unwise thing to do. Why should he?”

“We can’t explain all that now,” said the Viscount. “Who said I was going to fight him?”

“You d-did! You said he w-wasn’t a better shot than you are.”

“Well, he ain’t. All I’ve got to do is to put a pistol to the fellow’s head, and tell him to hand over the brooch.”

Horatia released Captain Heron’s arm. “I m-must say, that is a very clever plan, P-Pel!” she approved.

Captain Heron looked from one to the other, half laughing, half startled. “But you’re all very murderous!” he expostulated. “I wish you would tell me what has happened.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” said the Viscount. “That fellow Lethbridge got Horry into his house last night, and she dropped a brooch there.”

“Yes, and he wants to c-compromise me,” nodded Horatia. “So you see, he won’t give the brooch up. It’s all d-dreadfully provoking.”

The Viscount got up. “I’ll get it back for you,” he said. “And we won’t have any damned tact about it.”

“I’ll come with you, Pel,” said the crestfallen Sir Roland.

“You can come home with me while I get the pistols,”replied the Viscount severely, “but I won’t have you going with me to Half-Moon Street, mind.”

He went out, accompanied by his friend. Horatia sighed. “I d-do hope he’ll get it this time. Come into the library, Edward, and tell me all about L-Lizzie. Why didn’t she c-come with you?”

Captain Heron opened the door for her to pass out into the hall. “It was not considered advisable,” he said, “but I am charged with messages for you.”

“N-Not advisable? Why not?” asked Horatia, looking over her shoulder.

Captain Heron waited until they had reached the library before he answered. “You see, Horry, I am happy to tell you that Lizzie is in a delicate situation just now.”

“Happy to tell me?” echoed Horatia. “Oh! Oh, I see! How famous, Edward! Why, I shall be an aunt! Rule shall take me to B-Bath directly after the Newmarket M-meeting. That is, if he d-doesn’t divorce me,” she added gloomily.

“Good God, Horry, it’s not as bad as that?” cried Heron, aghast.

“N-no, it isn’t, but if I d-don’t get my brooch back, I daresay he will. I am a b-bad wife, Edward. I see it now.”

Captain Heron took his seat beside her on the sopha, and possessed himself of her hand. “Poor Horry!” he said gently. “Will you tell me all about it, right from the start?”

The story that was haltingly told him was rather involved, but he unravelled it after a time, and gave it as his opinion that there would be no divorce. “But I think one thing, Horry,” he said. “You should tell Rule.”

“I c-can’t, and I won’t,” said Horatia vehemently. “Who ever heard such a story?”

“It is an odd story,” he admitted. “But I think he would believe you.”

“N-not after all the stupid things I’ve done. And if he d-did he would have to c-call Lethbridge out, or something, and that would m-make a scandal, and he’d n-never forgive me for having b-been the cause of it.”

Captain Heron held his peace. He reflected that there might well be more behind the story. He was not very well acquainted with Rule, but he remembered that Elizabeth had perceived the inflexibility about the Earl’s mouth, and had owned to some misgivings. Captain Heron had great faith in his wife’s judgement. It did not seem to him, from what Horatia unconsciously told him, that the pair were living in that perfect state of conjugal happiness which he and his fair Lizzie enjoyed. If there was already a slight coldness between them (which, since Horatia had declined going to Meering, there seemed to be) it was perhaps an ill moment to choose for the recounting of this improbable adventure. At the same time Captain Heron was not inclined to place much reliance on his brother-in-law’s powers of persuasion. He patted Horatia’s hand, and assured her it would all come right, but inwardly he was not very hopeful. However, he felt that he owed a great debt of gratitude to her for having given him his Lizzie, and it was with real sincerity that he offered to help her in any way that he could.

“I knew you w-would, Edward,” said Horatia, rather tremulously. “But perhaps P-Pel will get it, and then everything will be all right.”

It was a long time before the Viscount, still accompanied by the faithful Sir Roland, returned to Grosvenor Square, and Horatia had begun to fret, picturing some hideous scene of combat, convinced that the Viscount’s lifeless body would at any moment be borne in. When at last he walked in, she almost hurled herself on his chest. “Oh, P-Pel, I made sure you were d-dead!” she cried.

“Dead? Why the deuce should I be dead?” said the Viscount_v removing his elegant cloth coat from her clutch. “No, I haven’t got the brooch. The fellow wasn’t in, blister him!”

“Not in? Then what are we to d-do?”

“Call again,” replied the Viscount grimly.

But the Viscount’s second call, made shortly before dinner, proved as fruitless as the first. “It’s my belief he’s keeping out of my way,” he said. “Well, I’ll catch him in the morning before he has a chance to go out. And if that damned porter tells me he’s out then, I’ll force my way in and see for myself.”

“Then I think I had better accompany you,” decided Captain Heron. “If you try to break into another man’s house there’s likely to be trouble.”

“Just what I said myself,” nodded Sir Roland, still in attendance. “Better all go. Call for you at your lodging, Pel.”

“Devilishly good of you, Pom,” said the Viscount. “Say nine o’clock.”

“Nine o’clock,” agreed Sir Roland. “Nothing for it but to go to bed betimes.”

Captain Heron was the first to arrive at the Viscount’s lodgings in Pall Mall next morning. He found the Viscount fully dressed, and busy with the loading of one of his silver-mounted pistols.

“There’s a sweet little pistol for you,” said the Viscount, stopping the hammer at half-cock. “Blew the pips out of a playing card with it once. Cheston laid me ten to one against. Why, you couldn’t miss with this pistol! At least,” he added naively, “I daresay you might, but I couldn’t.”

Captain Heron grinned at this aspersion cast on his marksmanship, and sat down on the edge of the table, watching the Viscount pour in his powder. “Well, all I beg of you is, don’t blow Lethbridge’s head off, Pelham!”

“Might have to wing him,” said the Viscount, picking up a piece of soft kid from the table and placing his ball in it. “I won’t kill him, though, damme, I’ll be hard put to it not to!” He lifted the gun, and with his thumb over the touch-hole gently rammed down the ball. “There you are. Where’s Pom? Might have known he’d over-sleep.” He slipped the pistol into his pocket, and stood up. “Y’know, Edward, this is the devil of a business,” he said seriously. “No knowing how Rule would take it if it came to his ears. Rely on you to help me.”

“Of course I’m going to help you,” replied Captain Heron. “If Lethbridge has the brooch, we’ll get it.”

Sir Roland appearing at this moment, they picked up their hats, and set off for Half-Moon Street. The porter who opened the door to them once more denied his master.

“Not in, eh?” said the Viscount. “Well, I think I’ll step in and take a look.”

“But he’s not in, my lord!” insisted the porter, holding the door. “He went out yesterday in his chaise, and is not back yet.”

“Don’t believe him, Pel,” counselled Sir Roland in the rear.

“But sir, indeed my lord is not in! There is another—well, a person, sir, asking for him besides yourself.”

Captain Heron set his sound shoulder to the door, and thrust it back.

“That’s mighty interesting,” he said. “We will step upstairs to be quite sure that his lordship has not come in unbeknown. In with you, Pel!”

The porter found himself driven firmly backwards, and raised a shout for help. A burly individual in a frieze greatcoat and a dirty neck-cloth, who was sitting on a chair in the narrow hall, looked on grinning but offered no assistance. The butler came puffing up the stairs, but paused when he saw the company. He bowed to the Viscount, and said severely: “His lordship is from home, my lord.”

“Perhaps you didn’t look under the bed,” said the Viscount.

A hoarse laugh from the man in the frieze coat greeted this sally. “Ah, you’ve hit it, your honour. He’s a peevy cull, and so I allus said.”

“Eh?” said Sir Roland, regarding him through his eye-glass. “Who’s this fellow Pel?”

“How the devil should I know?” demanded the Viscount. “Now you stay where you are, what-ever-your-name is. I’m going up to have a little talk with his lordship.”

The butler placed himself at the foot of the stairs. “Sir, his lordship is not in the house!” He saw the Viscount draw the pistol from his pocket, and gasped: “My lord!”

“Stand out of my way, or you might get hurt,” said the Viscount.

The butler retreated. “I assure your lordship—I—I don’t understand, my lord! My master is gone into the country!”

The Viscount gave a snort, and ran up the stairs. He came back in a very few moments. “True enough. He’s not there.”

“Loped off!” ejaculated the burly man. “Damn my blood if I ever deal with a flash cull again!” With which cryptic remark he drove his fist into his hat, and sat glowering.

The Viscount looked at him with interest. “What do you want with him, hey? Who are you?”

“That’s my business,” retorted the burly man. “Twenty rum guineas, that’s what I wants, and that’s what I’ll get if I stays here till tomorrow.”

Captain Heron spoke, addressing himself to the butler. “Our business with his lordship is urgent—can you inform us of his direction?”

“His lordship,” said the butler stiffly, “left no word, sir. Indeed, I wish that I were aware of his destination, for this—this person, sir, insists upon staying until his return, though I have warned him I shall send for a constable.”

“You don’t dare send for no harman,” said the burly man scornfully. “I knows what I know, ah, and I knows who’ll sleep in Rumbo if I splits.”

Sir Roland, who had been listening intently to this speech, shook his head. “Y’know, I don’t follow what he says at all,” he remarked. “Rumbo? Never heard of the place.”

“The likes of you calls it Newgate,” explained the burly man. “I calls it Rumbo. See?”

The Viscount looked at him frowningly. “I’ve a notion I’ve met you before,” he said. “I don’t know your face, but damme, I do know your voice!”

“Might have been masked,” suggested Sir Roland helpfully.

“Lord, Pom, don’t be such a—Wait a bit, though! Masked?” The Viscount slapped his leg. “That’s given it to me! Blister it, you’re the rogue who tried to hold me up on Shooter’s Hill once!”

The burly man, who had changed colour, slid towards the door, muttering: “No, I never did so! It’s a lie!”

“Lord, I don’t bear you any malice,” said the Viscount cheerfully. “You got nothing from me.”

“A highwayman, is he?” said Sir Roland with interest. Devilish queer company Lethbridge keeps! Devilish queer!”

“H’m!” remarked Captain Heron, surveying the burly man with scant approval. “I can guess what your business is with his lordship, my man.”

“Can you?” said Sir Roland. “Well, what is it?”

“Use your wits,” said Captain Heron unkindly. “I should like very much to give him up to the Watch, but I suppose we can’t.” He turned to the butler. “I want you to cast your mind back. The night before last a brooch was lost in this house. Do you recall finding it?”

The butler seemed pleased to be able to answer at least one question. “No, sir, I don’t. There wasn’t a brooch found in this house. His lordship asked me particularly whether it had been picked up, just after that gentleman called yesterday.” He nodded towards Sir Roland.

“What’s that?” ejaculated the Viscount. “Did you say after he called?”

“I did, my lord. His lordship sent for me not more than a minute or so after the gentleman had left the house.”

Captain Heron grasped the Viscount’s arm restrainingly. “Thank you,” he said. “Come, Pelham, there’s no more to be done here.”

He drew the unwilling Viscount towards the door, which the porter opened with alacrity.

The three conspirators descended the steps, and set off slowly towards Piccadilly.

“Dropped it in the street,” said Sir Roland. “Said so all along.”

“It begins to look like it,” agreed Captain Heron. “Yet Horry is certain the brooch was lost in that house. I imagine the butler was speaking the truth. Could anyone else have found the brooch?”

The Viscount stopped short. “Drelincourt!” he said. “By the lord Harry, that little viper, that toad, that—”

“Are you talking about that Macaroni cousin of Rule’s?” asked Captain Heron. “What had he to do with it?”

Sir Roland, who had been staring at the Viscount, suddenly shook him by the hand. “You’ve got it, Pel. You’ve got it,” he said. “Lay you odds he took the brooch.”

“Of course he took it! Didn’t we leave him with Lethbridge? By God, I’ll wring his damned scraggy neck!” said the Viscount wrathfully, and plunged off at a great rate towards Piccadilly.

The other two hurried after him.

“Was Drelincourt there that night?” asked Captain Heron of | Sir Roland.

“Came in because it was raining,” explained Sir Roland. “Pel wanted to pull his nose. Daresay he will now.”

Captain Heron caught up with the Viscount. “Pelham, go easy!” he said. “If he hasn’t got it and you accuse him, you’ll only work a deal of harm. Why should he have taken the brooch?”

“To make mischief! Don’t I know him!” replied the Viscount. “ If he’s gone off with it to Rule already, we’re finished.”

“That’s so,” nodded Sir Roland. “Yes, that’s so, Pel. No getting away from it. Better finish Drelincourt too. Nothing else to do.”

“Pelham, you young madman, give me that pistol of yours!” commanded Captain Heron.

The Viscount shook him off, and strode on. Sir Roland plucked at the Captain’s sleeve. “Better let Pel deal with the fellow,” he said confidentially. “Devilish fine shot, you know.”

“Good God, you’re as mad as he is,” groaned Captain Heron. “We mustn’t let this come to a fight, man!”

Sir Roland pursed his lips. “I don’t see why not,” he said judicially. “Trifle irregular, but there’s two of us to see fair play. Do you know Drelincourt?”

“No, but—”

“Ah, that accounts for it!” nodded Sir Roland. “If you knew him, you’d agree. Fellow ought to be killed. Thought so for a long time.”

Captain Heron gave it up in despair.