The Quiet Gentleman

Chapter 14

It was fortunate for the cordiality of the relations between Stanyon and Whissenhurst that before she had reached the house Marianne was met by Miss Morville, who had walked out to look for her. It was evident that Marianne was much discomposed, her bosom heaving, her eyes full of tears, and her cheeks whitened. She uttered the one word: “Martin!” in answer to her friend’s solicitous enquiry, and seemed inclined to fall into strong hysterics. Miss Morville needed no more to prompt her to convey Marianne upstairs to her own room, and to beg her to tell her the whole. The story which was poured into her ears was incoherent, and freely interspersed with self-blame. She unravelled it as best she might, and did what lay in her power to soothe Marianne’s fears. When, shuddering, Marianne told her of the brief fight in the shed, she could not help smiling a little, so very much shocked did Marianne seem to be. She apologized for this insensibility by explaining that she had so often seen her brothers at fisticuffs, and had so often applied raw steaks to their blackened eyes, that she no longer felt on this subject as perhaps she ought. She could even hope that the exchange of blows might have gone some way to relieve exacerbated tempers, but Marianne’s description of the scene, and of Martin’s mien when he picked himself up from the floor, soon put such comfortable ideas to flight. She knew his temper; she could imagine what his chagrin must be: her only dependence must be on Ulverston’s good sense.

“If they were to meet — and I the cause — !” Marianne said, wringing her hands.

“Well, they shan’t meet,” replied Miss Morville. “It would be most improper!”

“Improper! It might be fatal!”

“I cannot suppose that either would be so stupid.”

“Not Ulverston, no! But Martin! In such anger! How can you tell what he might do?”

“You are right: I can’t tell,” owned Miss Morville, dispassionately considering it. “Well, there is nothing for it but to put a stop to a duel — if that is indeed what they intend, and I daresay it may be, for gentlemen have such nonsensical notions that one may believe them to be capable of any folly.”

“Oh, if one could but prevent it! But they will tell us nothing, for females should never know anything about such things! They would dislike it so very much, if one attempted to interfere in a matter of honour!”

“I am not in the least concerned with what they may dislike,” replied Miss Morville somewhat tartly. “What I am thinking of is how excessively disagreeable it would be for you and the Frants to have such a scandal in your midst. Do let me beg of you, my dear Marianne, not to mention what has occurred to another soul! There will be no duel, if I have to lay an information against them both to prevent it.”

Marianne looked as though she hardly knew whether to be relieved or scandalized. “Oh, that would be dreadful!”

“You need not be alarmed: I am persuaded there will be no need to proceed to such an extreme.”

Her air of assurance had its effect. Marianne dried her tears, and was soothed. By the time she had tidied her ruffled ringlets, and folded up her shawl, she was calm enough to descend the stairs to the saloon, where Ulverston and Theo were chatting to Sir Thomas and his lady.

There was nothing to be learned from the Viscount’s manner, but Miss Morville thought that Theo was looking grave. Of Martin there was no sign, and since the Bolderwoods did not mention him she supposed that he must have left Whissenhurst without seeing them.

This was soon found to have been the case. The Stanyon party left the Grange together, and while Ulverston was exchanging a word or two with Sir Thomas on the front steps Theo found the opportunity to draw Miss Morville aside, and to ask her if she knew what was amiss between Martin and the Viscount.

“Yes, and so, I fancy, must everyone! Has Ulverston spoken to you?”

“Not Ulverston, but I ran into Martin, and I never saw the boy look so wild! Some nonsense he blurted out to me, demanding if I would act for Ulverston in an affair of honour! He cannot, surely, have been serious!”

“I fear it. What did you reply?”

“He gave me little chance to do more than to say I should certainly do no such thing. If he had not looked as he did, I should have thought him to have been speaking in jest. But Ulverston — ! Good God, this cannot be permitted! I’ll speak to Martin.”

There was no opportunity for more. The horses had been led up, and Sir Thomas was waiting to say good-bye. Miss Morville was handed into the saddle, and the party set off, the Viscount enlivening the way with a great deal of droll conversation, in a manner that would not have led anyone to suppose that he had been engaged in a violent quarrel not an hour earlier.

Upon their arrival at Stanyon, the gentlemen chose to ride on to the stables. Miss Morville dismounted at the foot of the terrace steps, and went quickly up them. She learned from Abney that his lordship was in the library, and went there immediately.

He was engaged in filling a two-colour gold snuff-box, ornamented with grisaille enamel paintings, with some of his special sort, but when he saw who had entered the room he rose at once, and set the jar aside. One glance at Miss Morville’s face made him say: “Is anything amiss, ma’am?”

She let the long skirt of her riding-dress fall, and began to strip off her gloves, saying with a slight smile: “You perceive so much more than one might imagine, my lord, that it is almost disconcerting.”

“Do I? But what has happened to cause you concern? Sit down!”

She obeyed, but said: “Well, I don’t know that I am greatly concerned, but there is something amiss, and I believe you are the proper person to be told of it.” She then, in the baldest of terms, recounted to him the story Marianne had poured out to her. “I should perhaps not have set much store by it had it not been for what Theo told me later. Marianne was greatly agitated, but that, I think, was largely because she has no brothers, and is consequently unaccustomed to scenes of violence.”

“Unlike Miss Morville?”

“Dear me, yes! In fact, I think it a pity that Marianne did not run away at once, for then, you know, they might have had what Jack calls a regular set-to, and I have little doubt they would have enjoyed it excessively, and parted the better friends. At least,” she added thoughtfully, “it is what I should expect of most men, but I own Martin is a little different.”

“That he tried to force a quarrel on to Lucy I can believe, but that Lucy should let him do it certainly surprises me.”

“I do not know, of course, what gentlemen consider to be insupportable provocation, but I imagine Martin might offer such provocation?”

“With enthusiasm,” he agreed. “The devil fly away with that boy!”

“He is very troublesome. But, although you may not like me to say this, I feel that he has not been quite properly treated. He did receive — and Marianne is fully conscious of it — a degree of encouragement which makes him not altogether to be blamed for his intemperate behaviour.”

“Oh, I know it! If she were not so innocent, one might call her an arrant flirt.”

“I am sure she had never the least intention of causing unhappiness.”

“No, the mischief lay in his being too young to rate her pretty smiles at their true worth, and in her being too young to recognize that Martin was no man for her playful arts. What a stupid business it is! Are you expecting me to settle it?”

“Certainly I am. If you do not, I shall be obliged to lay an information. Should it be to a magistrate?”

He laughed. “I hope we may not have to go to quite such a length as that! Will you leave it in my hands, and trust me to do what I can?”

“Yes, willingly,” she replied, rising, and picking up the train of her dress. “Theo said that he should speak to Martin, but I should not be surprised if you were found to have more influence than he has ever had. At all events, your word must carry weight with Lord Ulverston.”

She then left him, and he returned to his task of filling his snuff-box. It was very soon accomplished, and he had just restored the jar to a cupboard when Ulverston strolled in.

The Viscount instantly picked up the gold snuff-box from the table, and inspected it. “That’s pretty!” he remarked. “Where did you find it, Ger?”

“Rue St. Honoré — Louis XV. Not really suitable for day-wear, of course.”

“Oh, at old Ducroix’s? I bought one from him — genuine Barrière, with lapis panels.”

“I know you did. He showed it to me, but I thought the marble-enamel displeasing. How did you find them all at Whissenhurst?”

“Oh, in high gig! Lady Bolderwood is full of schemes for their party next week. The devil of it is that I find I can’t stay to attend it.”

“No, so I apprehend,” replied the Earl. “You have received a letter which summons you to town, haven’t you?”

Ulverston laid the snuff-box down, and raised a rueful pair of eyes to the Earl’s face. “So you know all about it, do you? Has Martin been with you?”

“No, Miss Morville. I should warn you that she is ready to inform against you to the nearest magistrate, Lucy.”

“Meddlesome female!”

“Not at all. She is a woman of remarkable good-sense. What nonsense is this, Lucy?”

“No nonsense of my seeking.”

“But you cannot mean to meet Martin, surely!”

Ulverston shrugged. “I told him I could not, but when he chose to slap my face what would you have expected me to do?”

“I can think of several things you might do. They would all of them do Martin a world of good, but they don’t include calling him out.”

“Boot’s on the other leg: he called me out. Of course I told him not to be making such a cake of himself, but when it came to his suggesting I didn’t care to face his markmanship, it was the outside of enough!”

“Oh, here’s a high flight!” said Gervase, laughing. “My poor Lucy, you have a great need to prove your mettle! I beg your pardon! But you can’t prove it against my foolish young brother, you know.”

“Don’t be alarmed! You don’t suppose I mean to hit him, do you?”

“No, I fear he means to hit you.”

“I’ll take my chance of that.”

“Make no mistake about this, Lucy!” Gervase said quietly. “If Martin means to kill you, there will be no chance. He is a very fine shot.”

“Is he?” The Viscount looked a little startled. “As good as you?”

“Much better.”

“The devil he is! The more reason, then, for not drawing back!”

“Lucy, if you really wish to be reassured, let me tell you that you will earn nothing but praise for withdrawing a challenge to a boy with not one tenth your experience!”

“You’re quite out. Not my challenge at all: I had nothing to do but accept a quarrel he was determined to force on to me.”

The Earl, who had been twirling his quizzing-glass on the end of its ribbon, now raised it to one eye, and through it surveyed his friend. “You said Martin slapped your face!”

“He did. I gave him a leveller; he asked me for satisfaction, which I refused to give him; he then slapped my cheek, and asked if I would now meet him. I call that his challenge, not mine!”

“How very irregular!” remarked the Earl, slightly amused.

“Irregular! The whole affair is quite abominable! God knows I don’t want to quarrel with your brother — not but what it’s time someone taught him not to persecute defenceless girls with his damned attentions!”

“Forgive me, Lucy, but what is your interest in Miss Bolderwood? I have myself called Martin to book for — unmannerly conduct towards her, but it ought, I think, to be remembered that they are old playfellows, and have not been used to stand upon ceremony with each other.”

“Oh, yes! Boy and girl stuff! I know that!” Ulverston said impatiently. He took a turn about the room. “Well! I imagine you have guessed! Nothing is to be announced until after her presentation, but you may wish me happy, Ger!”

“With all my heart! She will make you a delightful wife, and you will have the felicity of knowing yourself to be the object of a general envy!”

The Viscount grinned, as he grasped his hand. “Is she not beautiful, Ger? Those speaking eyes! So much countenance!”

“Indeed she is!” Gervase responded warmly.

“I can tell you, I think myself fortunate to have secured her affections before you had done so!”

“I cannot flatter myself that she ever thought more of me than of Martin.”

“Oh — Martin!” The Viscount said, his grin vanishing. “If I thought I had cut you out, I should be sorry for it!”

“No, you have cut Martin out.”

“I care nothing for that. It ain’t true, either.”

“I fancy he has been the most fav — prominent — of her suitors,” Gervase said, correcting himself hastily.

“Very likely. They are, as you have said, old playfellows, if he chose to think she cared for him, he must be a bigger coxcomb than I knew!”

Gervase let this pass. He picked up his snuff-box, and opened it, and took a meditative pinch. “Will you go halfway to meet Martin, Lucy?”

“To save you annoyance, yes!”

Gervase smiled at him. “Really, you know, Lucy, we cannot have such a scandal! These little affairs always leak out. By the by, was I to act for you?”

“Exactly what I asked the young fool! He told me Warboys would be happy to act for me! Man I’ve only met three times in my life!”

Gervase burst out laughing. “Warboys! I wish he may come to offer his services to you!”

But at that very moment, Mr. Warboys was most strenuously resisting all efforts put forward to make him do this very thing. “No, dash it, Martin!” he said. “Don’t mind acting for you — not but what I think you’re making a cake of yourself, mind! — but I’m damned if I’ll act for a fellow I don’t know!”

“You do know him! He was at our ball!”

“What’s that to say to anything? Seen him at Whissenhurst a couple of times too, but that don’t mean I know him!”

“What does it signify? The circumstances are peculiar, and — ”

“Yes, and that’s another thing!” said Mr. Warboys. “No wish to offend you, dear old boy — and it ain’t a bit of use trying to call me out if you are offended! — but the circumstances are too dashed peculiar! Mind, now, I’m not sure, because I haven’t been out myself, but I don’t think this is at all the thing. I’ll ask my father: knows everything, my father!”

“You will not! Do you think I want the whole world to know of this?”

“Precious soon will know of it,” commented the sapient Mr. Warboys. “All over the countryside within twenty-four hours! A nice cry-out there will be! You take a damper, dear boy! much the best thing to do!”

“I tell you the fellow knocked me down, and has accepted my challenge!”

“You told me it wasn’t till you gave him a facer that he did accept your challenge. Good sort of a man, Ulverston,” said Mr. Warboys thoughtfully. “Withdraw the challenge. Nothing else to be done.”

“No?” said Martin, through his shut teeth. “I’ll show you what else is to be done!”

“Won’t show me,”said Mr. Warboys, in a tone of strong resolution. “The more I think about it the more I think it ain’t the kind of affair I want to be mixed up with. Can’t call a fellow out when he’s staying in your house.”

“St. Erth’s house, not mine!”

“Comes to the same thing. Very important to be nice in all points of honour. Another thing! no business to have challenged him at all. Quite the thing, when he knocked you over: nothing to say against that! When you hit him, his business to ask for satisfaction, not yours. Damme, you’ve made a ramshackle business of it, Martin!”

“I have, have I? Do you think I’ll withdraw because you tell me to?” demanded Martin furiously.

“No,” said Mr. Warboys mournfully. “Just thought of that. Ought to have told you to go on with it. Never knew such a fellow for going against everyone! Often crossed my mind you wouldn’t have run mad after Miss Bolderwood if you hadn’t seen the rest of us hanging round her. Nothing would do for you but to carry her off just to spite us!”

“By God, Barny, if you weren’t a friend of mine — !” Martin said, his fists clenching.

“If I weren’t a friend of yours, wouldn’t have dared to say it,” responded Mr. Warboys frankly. “Quite true, though. Dash it, Ulverston did the right thing when he gave you that leveller! Sorry I didn’t see it. Might have tried to do it myself, if I’d seen you frightening that poor little angel! Don’t say I’d have succeeded because I never was up to your weight, but there it is: daresay I should have been carried away.”

“You would!” retorted Martin, with grim humour.

Mr. Warboys, grappling with deep thoughts, paid no heed to this, but pronounced, after a moment: “Tell you what, Martin! Shouldn’t be surprised if there was more to it than we know. Occurred to me the other evening: seems devilish taken with Ulverston, don’t she? No sense in putting a bullet into the fellow: might easily give her a distaste for you, and then where are you?”

This eminently reasonable point of view found no favour. Martin said roughly: “I didn’t come here to listen to you prosing like the saphead you are! Will you, or will you not, act for Ulverston?”

“No,” said Mr. Warboys. He added scrupulously: “That is, not if he don’t ask me to. If he does — ask my father!”

“And you call yourself a friend of mine!” Martin said bitterly.

“Dash it, Martin, it ain’t the part of a friend of yours to second your opponent! Told you I’d act for you, didn’t I? Stupid thing to do, but not the man to go back on my word.”

“Barny, if he applies to you, will you act for him?”

Mr. Warboys scratched his chin. “Might have to,” he conceded. “But if I act for him, who’s to act for you? Tell me that!”

“Good God, anyone! Rockcliffe — Alston!”

“Ay, that will be a capital go!” said Mr. Warboys scathingly. “Why don’t you ask out the town-crier from Grantham, and ask him to act for you? Lord, Martin, dashed if I don’t think you must be queer in your attic!”

“Very well! I’ll have Caversham!” said Martin, a little taken aback, but recovering. “He won’t talk!”

“No, and he won’t hear either!” retorted Mr. Warboys, justly incensed. “You can’t choose a man to be your second who has to have everything written down on a slate!”

“It makes no odds to me!” Martin said, picking up his gloves and his whip.

“I know it don’t make any odds to you: you won’t have to fix the arrangements with him! If you want to fight, get your cousin to act for you!”

“He won’t do it,” Martin said briefly. “The first thing is to tell Ulverston you are willing to stand his friend.”

“If Theo Frant won’t second you, you are wrong!” said Mr. Warboys.

But Martin had already stormed out of the house, leaving his long-suffering friend to search in his father’s library for a copy of the Code of Honour. Careful perusal of this invaluable work revealed the fact that the first duty of a second was to seek a reconciliation. Mr. Warboys spent the rest of the evening endeavouring to compress into as few words as could conveniently be written on a small slate a moving appeal to his prospective colleague to assist him in promoting this excellent object.

Martin rode back to Stanyon. That a meeting with Ulverston at the dinner-table must be attended by considerable embarrassment he knew, but his temper was too much chafed to permit of his caring for that. He did not even consider it; still less did he consider what must be the unpleasant consequences of killing the Viscount, which he was determined to do. In blackbrowed silence he allowed his valet to help him to change his riding-dress for his evening-coat and knee-breeches; in the same dangerous mood he left his room, and strode along the gallery in the direction of the Grand Stairway. He was checked by the Earl’s voice, speaking his name, and looked round to see that Gervase had come out of his own room. He said curtly. “Well?”

“Come into my room! I want to speak to you.”

“I have nothing to say to you, St. Erth!”

“But I have something to say to you. Here, if you wish, but I had rather it were in a less public place.”

“I know what you mean to say, and you may spare your breath!”

“You don’t know it.”

Martin stared at him, hostility and suspicion in his eyes. He hesitated, then shrugged, and followed the Earl into his bedchamber. “You mean to try to make me cry off meeting Ulverston. Don’t tell me I can’t do it, for I can, and, by God, I will!”

“No. It is quite impossible that you should.”

“I know of only one circumstance that would make it sol If he were to cry off! Is that it? Hasn’t he the stomach for it?”

“Ulverston will meet you where and when you will,” the Earl replied. “If you are determined on it, he will delope, and so, I think, will you.”

“You are wrong!” Martin said, with an ugly little laugh. “If he chooses to do so, the more fool he! Warn him! I shan’t miss my mark!”

“I have warned him,” replied Gervase. “He will take his chance. It’s not for him to withdraw: the challenge was yours.”

“It was mine, and you cannot force me to withdraw it!”

“No, of course I cannot,” said the Earl, his tranquil voice in odd contrast to Martin’s fiery tones. “But you acted under a misapprehension, Martin. He is betrothed to Miss Bolderwood.”

“What?”Martin thundered, the colour rushing into his cheeks, and fading almost as swiftly, to leave his face very white.

“There is to be no announcement until after her presentation, but he has been accepted.”

“It’s a lie!” stammered Martin. “You say it so that I shan’t meet Ulverston! I’ll not believe it!”

Gervase made him no answer. He was standing before the fire, and he neither looked at Martin nor seemed to attend to his words, but stirred one of the logs in the grate with his foot, and meditatively watched the shower of sparks fly up the chimney. A hasty movement on Martin’s part made him glance up, but Martin had only flung over to the curtained window, as though desirous of putting as much space as possible between himself and his half-brother, and the Earl lowered his eyes again to the fire.

“She might have told me!” burst from Martin.

“Yes.”

“She knew I — she knew — !”

“She is young, and a little heedless.”

“Heedless! Oh, no! Not that! A title — a great position! Those were the things she wanted! She is very welcome to them! If you had offered she would have accepted you! If you were dead, and I stood in your shoes, she would take me, and Ulverston might go hang!”

“You would scarcely want her upon such terms.”

“On any terms!” Martin declared wildly. “She is the only woman I shall ever love!”

The Earl diplomatically refrained from commenting upon this assertion. If there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes, Martin did not see it.

“Women!” Martin ejaculated, with loathing. “Now I know what they are! I shall never again be taken-in!” He took a turn about the room, his restless hands picking up, and discarding, a book that lay on the table, twitching a fold of the curtains into place, tugging at one of the heavy tassels adorning the hangings of the great bed, and finally seizing on an ivory comb from the dressing-table, and bending it savagely until it snapped in two pieces. He cast them from him, saying defiantly: “I’ve broken your comb! I beg your pardon!”

“It is of no consequence.”

“I suppose you have a dozen combs!” Martin said, as though this likelihood added to his hatred of his brother.

A discreet knock on the door made the Earl turn his head. It heralded the entrance of a footman, who said apologetically that he was sent to inform his lordship that dinner awaited his pleasure.

“Desire Abney to announce it in a quarter of an hour’s time, if you please.”

“Yes, my lord. Her ladyship — ”

“Convey my excuses to her ladyship. I have been detained, and have not yet completed my toilet.”

The footman cast a covert look from him to Martin, and bowed himself out.

The door had hardly closed behind him before Martin exclaimed: “Do you expect me to continue to remain under the same roof as Ulverston?”

“He has told me that he finds himself obliged to leave Stanyon. I believe it will give rise to less comment if he remains until Monday, but it shall be as you wish.”

“If I must sit at table with him tonight, I may as well do so for ever!” said Martin disagreeably. He took another turn about the room, and fetched up abruptly in front of the Earl, as a thought occurred to him. “After all, he knocked me down! He owes me satisfaction!”

“Would you think so, had your positions been reversed?”

Martin resumed his pacing, reminding his brother irresistibly of a caged wild creature. After a turn or two, he flung over his shoulder: “What should I do?”

“You may meet him, if you choose, and acknowledge the justice of his action by deloping.”

“Folly!”

“So I think.”

“I’ll not beg his pardon! No, by God, that’s too much! How could I guess — ?”

“I believe him to be sensible of the misapprehension under which you acted. He is not the man to demand an apology from you. If you wish it, I can settle it for you, so that it will be unnecessary for any mention of the matter to be made between you. If you charge me with this office, I shall tell him that I have disclosed to you the secret of his betrothal, upon which you have naturally withdrawn your challenge.”

After a moment’s inward struggle, Martin said in a choked voice:. “Very well!” He cast one of his smouldering looks at Gervase, and said: “Obliging of you! You think I should be grateful, no doubt! I’m not grateful! If it had not been for you, that fellow would never have come here!”

“Why, no! But if she had returned your affection, Martin, his coming would not have injured you,” the Earl said gently.

Martin seemed to brush aside these words. “All was right until you came here! You put the wish to become a Countess into Marianne’s head, trifling with her, flattering her with your balls and your distinguishing attentions — to cast my pretensions into the shade! Then you brought in Ulverston, encouraged him to remain here! You set everyone against me! Marianne, Theo, Louisa — even my mother! Yes, even my mother, bemoaning the fact that you are going away to London! She will miss you amazingly! Ay, that is what she says! But there is one person you haven’t cozened with your soft words, one person who will not miss you! I hate you, St. Erth! From the bottom of my heart, I hate you!”

“If that is what you think, I cannot wonder at it,” the Earl said, a little sadly.

“Tell my mother I have gone to dine with Warboys!” Martin said fiercely, and flung out of the room.