The Convenient Marriage

Chapter Two

Mr Arnold Gisborne, lately of Queen’s College, Cambridge, was thought by his relatives to have been very fortunate to have acquired the post of secretary to the Earl of Rule. He was tolerably satisfied himself; employment in a noble house was a fair stepping-stone to a Public Career, but he would have preferred, since he was a serious young man, the service of one more nearly concerned with the Affairs of the Nation. My Lord of Rule, when he could be moved thereto, occasionally took his seat in the Upper House, and had been known to raise his pleasant, lazy voice in support of a motion, but he had no place in the Ministry, and he displayed not the smallest desire to occupy himself with Politicks. If he spoke, Mr Gisborne was requested to prepare his speech, which Mr Gisborne did with energy and enthusiasm, hearing in his imagination the words delivered in his own crisp voice. My lord would glance over the sheets of fine handwriting, and say: “Admirable, my dear Arnold, quite admirable. But not quite in my mode, do you think?” And Mr Gisborne would have sadly to watch my lord’s well-kept hand driving a quill through his most cherished periods. My lord, aware of his chagrin, would look up and say with his rather charming smile: “I feel for you, Arnold, believe me. But I am such a very frippery fellow, you know. It would shock the Lords to hear me utter such energetic sentiments. It would not do at all.”

“My lord, may I say that you like to be thought a frippery fellow?” asked Mr Gisborne with severity tempered by respect.

“By all means, Arnold. You may say just what you like,” replied his lordship amiably.

But in spite of this permission Mr Gisborne did not say anything more. It would have been a waste of time. My lord could give one a set-down, though always with that faint look of amusement in his bored grey eyes, and always in the pleasantest manner. Mr Gisborne contented himself with dreaming of his own future, and in the meantime managed his patron’s affairs with conscientious thoroughness. The Earl’s mode of life he could not approve, for he was the son of a Dean, and strictly reared. My lord’s preoccupation with such wanton pieces of pretty femininity as LaFanciola, of the Opera House, or a certain Lady Massey filled him with a disapproval that made him at first scornful, and later, when he had been my lord’s secretary for a twelve-month, regretful.

He had not imagined, upon his first setting eyes on the Earl, that he could learn to like, or even to tolerate, this lazy, faintly mocking exquisite, but he had not, after all, experienced the least difficulty in doing both. At the end of a month he had discovered that just as his lordship’s laced and scented coats concealed an extremely powerful frame, so his weary eyelids drooped over eyes that could become as keen as the brain behind. Yielding to my lord’s charm, he accepted his vagaries if not with approval at least with tolerance.

The Earl’s intention to enter the married state took him by surprise. He had no notion of such a scheme until a morning two days after his lordship had visited Lady Winwood in South Street. Then, as he sat at his desk in the library, Rule strolled in after a late breakfast, and perceiving the pen in his hand, complained: “You are always so damnably busy, Arnold. Do I give you so much work?”

Mr Gisborne got up from his seat at the desk. “No, sir, not enough.”

“You are insatiable, my dear boy.” He observed some papers in Mr Gisborne’s grasp, and sighed. “What is it now?” he asked with resignation.

“I thought, sir, you might wish to see these accounts from Meering,” suggested Mr Gisborne.

“Not in the least,” replied his lordship, leaning his big shoulders against the mantelpiece.

“Very well, sir.” Mr Gisborne laid the papers down, and said tentatively: “You won’t have forgotten that there is a Debate in the House today which you will like to take part in?”

His Lordship’s attention had wandered; he was scrutinizing his own top-boot (for he was dressed for riding) through a long-handled quizzing-glass, but he said in a mildly surprised voice: “Which I shall what, Arnold?”

“I made sure you would attend it, my lord,” said Mr Gisborne defensively.

“I am afraid you were in your cups, my dear fellow. Now tell me do my eyes deceive me, or is there a suggestion—the merest hint—of a—really, I fear I must call it a bagginess—about the ankle?”...

Mr Gisborne glanced perfunctorily down at his lordship’s shining boot.”I don’t observe it, sir.”

“Come, come, Arnold!” the Earl said gently. “Give me your attention. I beg of you!”

Mr Gisborne met the quizzical gleam in my lord’s eyes, and grinned in spite of himself. “Sir, I believe you should go. It is of some moment. In the Lower House—”

“I felt uneasy at the time,” mused the Earl, still contemplating his legs. “I shall have to change my bootmaker again.” He let his glass fall on the end of its long riband, and turned to arrange his cravat in the mirror. “Ah! Remind me, Arnold, that I am to wait on Lady Winwood at three. It is really quite important.”

Mr Gisborne stared.”Yes, sir?

“Yes, quite important. I think the new habit, the coat dos de puce—or is that a thought sombre for the errand? I believe the blue velvet will be more fitting. And the perruque a bourse? You prefer the Catogan wig, perhaps, but you are wrong, my dear boy, I am convinced you are wrong. The arrangement of curls in the front gives an impression of heaviness. I feel sure you would not wish me to be heavy.” He gave one of the lace ruffles that fell over his hand a flick. “Oh, I have not told you, have I? You must know that I am contemplating matrimony, Arnold.”

Mr Gisborne’s astonishment was plain to be seen. “You, sir?” he said, quite dumbfounded.

“But why not?” inquired his lordship. “Do you object?”

“Object, sir! I? I am only surprised.”

“My sister,” explained his lordship, “considers that it is time I took a wife.”

Mr Gisborne had a great respect for the Earl’s sister, but he had yet to learn that her advice carried any weight with his lordship. “Indeed, sir,” he said, and added diffidently: “It is Miss Winwood?”

“Miss Winwood,” agreed the Earl. “You perceive how important it is that I should not forget to present myself in South Street at—did I say three o’clock?”

“I will put you in mind of it, sir,” said Mr Gisborne dryly.

The door opened to admit a footman in blue livery. “My lord, a lady has called,” he said hesitatingly.

Mr Gisborne turned to stare, for whatever Rule’s amusements abroad might be, his inamoratas did not wait upon him in Grosvenor Square.

The Earl raised his brows. “I am afraid—I am very much afraid—that you are—shall we say—a little stupid, my friend,” he said. “But perhaps you have already denied me?”

The lackey looked flustered, and answered: “The lady bade me tell your lordship that Miss Winwood begs the favour of a word with you.

There was a moment’s silence. Mr Gisborne had with difficulty checked the exclamation that rose to his lips, and now affected to arrange the papers on his desk.

The Earl’s eyes, which had narrowed suddenly, to his servant’s discomfiture, were once more bland and expressionless. “I see,” he remarked. “Where is Miss Winwood?”

“In the smaller saloon, my lord.”

“Very well,” said his lordship. “You need not wait.”

The lackey bowed, and went out. My lord’s gaze rested thoughtfully on Mr Gisborne’s profile. “Arnold,” he said softly. Mr Gisborne looked up. “Are you very discreet, Arnold?” said his lordship.

Mr Gisborne met his look full. “Yes, sir. Of course.”

“I am sure you are,” said his lordship. “Perhaps even—a little deaf?”

Mr Gisborne’s lips twitched. “Upon occasion, amazingly deaf, sir.”

“I need not have asked,” said the Earl. “You are a prince of secretaries, my dear fellow.”

“As to that, sir, you are very obliging. But certainly you need not have asked.”

“My maladroitness,” murmured his lordship, and went out.

He crossed the wide marble paved hall, observing as he passed a young woman, obviously an abigail, seated on the edge of a straight chair, and clutching her reticule in a frightened manner. Miss Winwood, then, had not come quite unattended.

One of the lackeys sprang to throw open the massive mahogany door that led into the small saloon, and my lord went in.

A lady, not so tall as he had expected to see, was standing with her back to the door, apparently inspecting an oil painting that hung on the far wall. She turned quickly as he came in, and showed him a face that certainly did not belong to Miss Winwood. He checked for a moment, looking down at her in some surprise.

The face under the simple straw hat also showed surprise. “Are you L-Lord Rule?” demanded the lady.

He was amused. “I have always believed so,” he replied.

“Why, I th-thought you were quite old!” she informed him ingenuously.

“That,” said his lordship with perfect gravity, “was unkind in you. Did you come to see me in order to—er—satisfy yourself as to my appearance?”

She blushed fierily. “P-please forgive m-me!” she begged, stammering dreadfully. “It w-was very r-rude of m-me, only you s-see I was surprised just for the m-moment.”

“If you were surprised, ma’am, what can I be but deeply flattered?” said the Earl. “But if you did not come to look me over, do you think you could tell me what it is I am to have the honour of doing for you?”

The bright eyes looked resolutely into his. “Of c-course, you don’t know who I am,” said the visitor. “I’m afraid I d-deceived you a little. I was afraid if you knew it was not L-Lizzie you might not receive me. But it was not quite a l-lie to say I was Miss W-Winwood,” she added anxiously. “B-be-cause I am, you know. I’m Horry Winwood.”

“Horry?” he repeated.

“Horatia,” she explained. “It is an odious name, isn’t it? I was given it on account of Mr W-Walpole. He is my godfather, you understand.”

“Perfectly,” bowed his lordship. “You must forgive me for being so dull-witted, but would you believe it?—I am still quite in the dark.”

Horatia’s gaze faltered. “It is—it is very d-difficult to explain it to you,” she said. “And I expect you are horridly shocked. But I did bring my m-maid, sir!”

“That makes it far less shocking,” said his lordship reassuringly, “But would it not be much easier to explain this very difficult matter to me if you were to sit down? Will you let me take your cloak?”

“Th-thank you,” said Horatia, relinquishing it. She bestowed a friendly smile upon her host. “It is not anything n-near so difficult as I thought it would be. Before you came in my spirits quite f-failed. You see, my M-mama has not the smallest n-notion of my being here. But I couldn’t think of anything else to do.” She gripped her hands together, and drew a deep breath. “It is because of L-Lizzie—my sister. You have offered for her, haven’t you?”

Slightly taken aback, the Earl bowed. Horatia said in a rush: “C-could you—would you m-mind very much—having m-me instead?”

The Earl was seated in a chair opposite to her, absently swinging his eyeglass, his gaze fixed on her face in an expression of courteous interest. The eyeglass stopped swinging suddenly, and was allowed to fall. Horatia, looking anxiously across at him, saw a rather startled frown in his eyes, and hurried on: “Of c-course I know it ought to be Charlotte, for she is the elder, but she said nothing would induce her to m-marry you.”

His lips quivered. “In that case,” he said, “it is fortunate that I did not solicit the honour of Miss Charlotte’s hand in marriage.”

“Yes,” agreed Horatia. “I am sorry to have to say it, but I am afraid Charlotte shrinks from the idea of m-making such a sacrifice even for L-Lizzie’s sake.” Rule’s shoulders shook slightly. “Have I said s-something I shouldn’t?” inquired Horatia doubtfully.

“On the contrary,” he replied. “Your conversation is most salutary, Miss Winwood.”

“You are laughing at me,” said Horatia accusingly. “I d-daresay you think I am very stupid, sir, but indeed, it is most serious.”

“I think you are delightful,” said Rule. “But there seems to be some misapprehension. I was under the impression that Miss Winwood was—er—willing to receive my addresses.”

“Yes,” concurred Horatia. “She is w-willing, of course, but it makes her dreadfully unhappy. Th-that’s why I came. I hope you don’t m-mind.”

“Not at all,” said his lordship. “But may I know whether I appear to all the members of your family in this disagreeable light?”

“Oh no!” said Horatia earnestly. “M-mama is excessively pleased with you, and I myself d-don’t find you disagreeable in the least. And if only you would be so v-very obliging as to offer for m-me instead of Lizzie I should like you very well.”

“But why,” asked Rule, “do you want me to offer for you?”

Horatia’s brows drew close over the bridge of her nose. “It must sound very odd,” she admitted. “You see, Lizzie must m-marry Edward Heron. Perhaps you do not know him?”

“I believe I have not the pleasure,” said the Earl.

“W-well, he is a very particular friend of ours, and he loves L-Lizzie. Only you know how it is with younger sons, and poor Edward is not even a Captain yet.”

“I am to understand that Mr Heron is in the Army?” inquired the Earl.

“Oh, yes, the T-tenth Foot. And if you had not offered for L-Lizzie I feel sure M-mama would have consented to him being contracted to her.”

“It was most lamentable of me,” said Rule gravely. “But at least I can remedy the error.”

Horatia said eagerly: “Oh, you will take m-me instead?”

“No,” said Rule, with a faint smile. “I won’t do that. But I will engage not to marry your sister. It’s not necessary to offer me an exchange, my poor child.”

“B-but it is!” said Horatia vigorously. “One of us m-must marry you!”

The Earl looked at her for a moment. Then he got up in his leisurely way, and stood leaning on the back of a chair.

“I think you must explain it all to me,” he said. “I seem to be more than ordinarily dull this morning.”

Horatia knit her brows. “Well, I’ll t-try,” she said. “You see, we’re so shockingly poor. Charlotte says it is all P-Pelham’s fault, and I dare say it may be, but it is no use blaming him, b-because he cannot help it. G-gambling, you know. Do you gamble?”

“Sometimes,” answered his lordship.

The grey eyes sparkled. “So do I,” declared Horatia unexpectedly. “N-not really, of course, but with Pelham. He taught me. Charlotte says it is wrong. She is l-like that, you know, and it makes her very impatient with poor P-Pel. And I m-must say I feel a little impatient myself when Lizzie has to be sacrificed. Mama is sorry too, b-but she says we must all feel d-deeply thankful.” She coloured, and said rather gruffly: “It’s v-vulgar to care about Settlements, but you are very rich, are you not?”

“Very,” said his lordship, preserving his calm.

“Yes,” nodded Horatia. “W-well—you see!”

“I see,” agreed Rule. “You are going to be the Sacrifice.”

She looked up at him rather shyly. “It c-can’t signify to you, can it? Except that I know I’m not a Beauty, like L-Lizzie. But I have got the Nose, sir.”

Rule surveyed the Nose. “Undoubtedly, you have the Nose,” he said.

Horatia seemed determined to make a clean breast of her blemishes. “And p-perhaps you could become used to my eyebrows?”

The smile lurked at the back of Rule’s eyes. “I think, quite easily.”

She said sadly: “They won’t arch, you know. And I ought to t-tell you that we have quite given up hope of my g-growing any taller.”

“It would certainly be a pity if you did,” said his lordship.

“D-do you think so?” Horatia was surprised. “It is a great trial to me, I can assure you.” She took a breath, and added, with difficulty: “You m-may have n-noticed that I have a—a stammer.”

“Yes, I had noticed,” the Earl answered gently.

“If you f-feel you c-can’t bear it, sir, I shall quite understand,” Horatia said in a small, anxious voice.

“I like it,”said the Earl.

“It is very odd of you,” marvelled Horatia. “But p-perhaps you said that to p-put me at my ease?”

“No,” said the Earl. “I said it because it was true. Will you tell me how old you are?”

“D-does it matter?” Horatia inquired forebodingly.

“Yes, I think it does,” said his lordship.

“I was afraid it m-might,” she said. “I am t-turned seventeen.”

“Turned seventeen!” repeated his lordship. “My dear, I couldn’t do it.”

“I’m too young?”

“Much too young, child.”

Horatia swallowed valiantly. “I shall grow older,” she ventured. “I d-don’t want to p-press you, but I am thought to be quite sensible.”

“Do you know how old I am?” asked the Earl.

“N-no, but my cousin, Mrs M-Maulfrey, says you are not a d-day above thirty-five.”

“Does not that seem a little old to you?” he suggested.

“Well, it is rather old, perhaps, b-but no one would think you were as much,” said Horatia kindly.

At that a laugh escaped him. “Thank you,” he bowed. “But I think that thirty-five makes a poor husband for seventeen.”

“P-pray do not give that a thought, sir!” said Horatia earnestly. “I assure you, for my p-part I do not regard it at all. In f-fact, I think I should quite like to marry you.”

“Would you?” he said. “You do me a great honour, ma’am.” He came towards her, and she got up. He took her hand, and raised it to his lips a moment. “Now what is it you want me to do?”

“There is one very particular thing,” Horatia confided. “I should not c-care to ask it of you, only that we are m-making a bargain, are we not?”

“Are we?” said his lordship.

“But you know w-we are!” Horatia said. “You w-want to marry into m-my Family, don’t you?”

“I am beginning to think that I do,” remarked his lordship.

Horatia frowned. “I quite understood that that was why you offered for L-Lizzie.”

“It was,” he assured her.

She seemed satisfied. “And you do not w-want a wife to interfere with you. Well, I p-promise I won’t.”

His lordship looked down at her rather enigmatically. “And in return?”

She drew closer. “C-could you do something for Edward?” she begged. “I have d-decided that there is only one thing for him, and that is a P-patron!”

“And—er—am I to be the Patron?” asked his lordship.

“Would you m-mind very m-much?”

A muscle at the corner of the Earl’s mouth twitched, but he answered with only the suspicion of a tremor in his voice: “I shall be happy to oblige you, ma’am, to the best of my poor endeavour.”

“Thank you very m-much,” said Horatia seriously. “Then he and Lizzie can be m-married, you see. And you will tell Mama that you would just as soon have me, won’t you?”

“I may not phrase it quite like that,” said the Earl, “but I will endeavour to make the matter plain to her. But I do not entirely see how I am to propose this exchange without divulging your visit to me.”

“Oh, you need not m-mind that!” said Horatia cheerfully. “I shall tell her m-myself. I think I had b-better go now. No one knows where I am, and perhaps they m-may wonder.”

“We will drink to our bargain first, do you not think?” said the Earl, and picked up a small gilt handbell, and rang it.

A lackey came in answer to the bell. “You will bring me—” the Earl glanced at Horatia—“ratafia, and two glasses,” he said. “And my coach will be at the door within ten minutes.”

“If—if the c-coach is for me,” said Horatia, “it is only a step to South Street, sir.”

“But I would rather that you permitted me to convey you,” said his lordship.

The butler brought the ratafia himself, and set the heavy silver tray down on a table. He was dismissed with a nod, and went regretfully. He would have liked to see with his own eyes my lord drink a glass of ratafia.

The Earl poured two glasses, and gave one to Horatia. “The bargain!” he said, and drank heroically.

Horatia’s eyes twinkled merrily. “I f-feel sure we shall deal f-famously together!” she declared, and raised the glass to her lips.

Five minutes later his lordship walked into the library again. “Ah—Arnold,” he said. “I have found something for you to do.”

“Yes, sir?” said Mr Gisborne, rising.

“You must get me a Captaincy,” said Rule. “A Captaincy in the—in the 10th Foot, I think, but I am sure you will find out.”

“A Captaincy in the 10th Foot?” repeated Mr Gisborne. “For whom, sir?”

“Now, what was the name?” wondered his lordship. “Hawk—Hernshaw—Heron. I rather think it was Heron. For a Mr Edward Heron. Do you know a Mr Edward Heron?”

“No, sir, I don’t.”

“No,” sighed Rule. “Nor do I. It makes it very awkward for us, but I have great faith in you, Arnold. You will find out all about this Edward Heron.”

“I’ll try, sir,” replied Mr Gisborne.

“I am afraid I give you a deal of trouble,” apologized his lordship, preparing to depart. At the door he looked back. “By the way, Arnold, I think you may be under some slight misapprehension. It is the youngest Miss Winwood who does me the honour of accepting my hand.”

Mr Gisborne was startled. “Miss Charlotte Winwood, sir? The youngest Miss Winwood, I believe, is scarcely out of the schoolroom.”

“Certainly not Miss Charlotte Winwood,” said the Earl. “I have it on excellent authority that nothing would induce Miss Charlotte to marry me.”

“Good God, my lord!” said Mr Gisborne blankly.

“Thank you, Arnold. You comfort me,” said his lordship, and went out.