Charity Girl

by Georgette Heyer

  Mr Steane, listening to this heated speech with unimpaired equanimity, said compassionately, at the end of it: 'I perceive that he has you in a string, and deeply do I pity you! You remind me so much of what I was in my youth! Hot-headed, perhaps, but replete with generous impulses, misplaced loyalties, and a touching faith in the virtue of those whom you have been taught to revere! Sad, inexpressibly sad is it that it should have fallen to my lot to shatter that simple faith!'

  'What the devil – ?' demanded Simon explosively. 'If you think that I was taught to revere Desford – or that I do revere him! – you're fair and far off, Mr Steane! Of course I don't! But – but – he's a damned good brother, and – and though I dare-say he may have his faults he ain't a rabshackle – and that you may depend on!'

  'Would that I could!' said Mr Steane regretfully. 'Alas that I cannot! Are you ignorant, my poor young man, of the way of life your brother has pursued since he made his come-out, and – I am compelled to say – is still pursuing?'

  Simon stared at him, wrath and incredulity in his eyes. The flush that had risen to his face when he had found himself compelled to violate every canon of decent reticence by uphold ing Desford's virtue darkened perceptibly. In a voice stiff with pride, he said: 'My good sir, if, by those – those opprobrious words you mean to say that my brother has ever, at any time, or in any way, conducted himself in a manner unbefitting a man of honour, I take leave to tell you that you have either been grossly misinformed, or – or you are a damned liar!' He paused, his jaw dangerously outthrust, but as Mr Steane evinced no desire to pick up the gage so belligerently flung down, but continued to sit at his ease, blandly regarding him, he said haughtily: 'I collect, sir, that when you speak of my brother's way of life, you refer to certain – certain connections he has had, from time to time, with members of the muslin company. But if you mean to tell me that you suspect him of seducing innocent females, or – or of littering the town with his butter-prints, you may spare your breath! As for the suggestion that he lured your daughter to elope with him – Good God, if it were not so damned insulting I could laugh myself into whoops at it! If he had fallen so des perately in love as to have done anything so kennel-raked, why the devil should he be doing his utmost to give her into her grandfaher's keeping? Answer me that, if you can!'

  Mr Steane shuddered eloquently, and replied in a manner worthy of a Kemble or a Kean: 'If he has indeed done so, my dread is that he has wearied of her, and is seeking to fob her off !'

  'What, in less than two days?' said Simon jeeringly. 'A likely story!'

  'My dear young greenhead,' said Mr Steane, with a touch of asperity, 'one can discover that a female is a dead bore in less than two hours! Not that I believe this Banbury story of his having gone off to Harrowgate in search of my father! It's a bag of moonshine! The more I think about it the greater becomes my conviction that he has abducted my innocent child, and bam boozled everyone into believing that he only did so because he thought she would be happier with her grandfather than with her aunt. Now, I don't doubt she may have been unhappy in that archwife's house, but if your precious brother thought she would be happier in my father's house he might be no better than a blubber-head, which I know very well he isn't! No, no, my boy! You may swallow that Canterbury tale, but don't expect me to! The plain truth is that he's bent on ruining my poor little Cherry, thinking that she has no one to protect her. He will discover his mistake! Her father will see her righted! Ay! even if he – her father, I mean, or, in a word, myself ! – has to publish the story of his infamy to the world! If he has the smallest claim to be a man of honour he can do no less than marry her!'

  'You've taken the wrong sow by the ear, sir!' said Simon, looking at him from between suddenly narrowed eyelids. 'I'm happy to be able to inform you that your daughter's reputation is unblemished! So far from being bent on ruining her, my brother was bent on ensuring that no scandal should attach to her name! And I am even happier to inform you that she is residing, thanks to Desford's forethought, in an extremely respectable household!'

  It would have been too much to have said that Mr Steane's countenance betrayed chagrin, but the bland smile certainly faded from his lips, and although his voice retained its smoothness its tone was somewhat flattened when he replied to what Simon, who had formed a pretty accurate idea of his character, believed to be an unwelcome piece of information. Simon began to feel a little uneasy, and to wish that he knew where Desford was to be found. Dash it all, it was Desford's business to deal with Mr Steane, not his! Desford would be well-served if he disclosed Cherry's exact whereabouts to this old countercoxcomb, and washed his hands of the whole affair.

  'And where,' enquired Mr Steane, 'is this respectable house-hold situated?'

  'Oh, in Hertfordshire!' said Simon carelessly.

  'In Hertfordshire!' said Mr Steane, sitting up with a jerk. 'Can it be that I have wronged Lord Desford? Has he made her an offer? Do not be afraid to confide in me! To be sure, he should have obtained my permission to address himself to Cherry, but I am prepared to pardon that irregularity. Indeed, if he supposed me to be dead his informality must be thought ex cusable.' He wagged a finger at Simon, and said archly: 'No need to be discreet with me, my boy! I assure you I shall raise no objection to the match – provided, of course, that Lord Desford and I reach agreement over the Settlement, which I have no doubt we shall do. Ah, you are wondering how I have guessed that the respectable household to which you referred can be none other than Wolversham! I have never had the pleasure of visiting the house, but I have an excellent memory, and as soon as you spoke of Hertfordshire I recalled, in a flash, that Wolversham is in Hertfordshire. A fine old place, I believe: I shall look forward to seeing it.'

  Momentarily stunned, Simon pulled himself together, and lost no time in dispelling the illusion which was obviously working powerfully on Mr Steane's mind. 'Good God, no!' he said. 'Of course he hasn't taken her to Wolversham! He wouldn't dare! You must know as well as I do, sir, how my father regards you – well, you've told me yourself that he gave you the cut direct, so I needn't scruple to say that nothing would ever prevail upon him to give his consent to Desford's marriage to Miss Steane! Not that there's the least likelihood of his being asked to do so, because there ain't! Desford has not made her an offer, because, for one thing, he ain't in love with her; for another, there's no reason why he should; and for a third – well, never mind that!'

  He had the satisfaction of seeing Mr Steane's radiant smile fade from his face, but it was short lived. A calculating look came into that gentleman's eyes, and his next words almost made the hair rise on Simon's scalp. 'I fancy, young man,' said Mr Steane, 'that you will find you are mistaken. Yes. Very much mistaken! I can well believe that your honoured parent will not favour the match, but I venture to say that I believe he would favour still less an action of breach of promise brought against his heir.'

  'Breach of promise?' ejaculated Simon. 'You'd catch cold at that, Mr Steane! Desford never made your daughter an offer of marriage!'

  'How do you know that?' asked Mr Steane. 'Were you present when he stole her out of her aunt's house?'

  'No, I was not! But he told me how it came about that he was befriending Miss Steane – '

  He stopped, for a slow smile had crept over Mr Steane's face, and he was shaking his head. 'It is easy to see that you can have little knowledge of the law, young man. What your brother may have told you is not evidence. If it were admitted – which I can assure you it wouldn't be! – it could scarcely outweigh my unfortunate child's evidence!'

  'Do you mean to say,' gasped Simon, 'that you think your daughter is the kind of girl who would stand up in a court of law, and commit perjury? Your memory isn't as good as you suppose, if that's what you think! Why, she's no more than a chit of a schoolgirl that hasn't cut her eye-teeth!'

  'Ah!' said Mr Steane, putting Simon forcibly in mind of a cat confronted with a saucer of cream. 'I collect, Mr Carrington, that you have met my little Cherry?'


  'Yes, I've met her! And if she had accepted an offer from Desford, why, pray, didn't she tell me so?'

  'So you have met her!' said Mr Steane thoughtfully. 'No doubt in Lord Desford's company? Very significant! Ve-ry significant! One is led to suppose that he meant, at that time, to espouse her, for why, otherwise, should he have made her known to you?'

  'He didn't! What I mean is,' said Simon, becoming momently more harassed, 'I met her at – in the house to which he took her, and Desford didn't know I was there! I mean, he didn't expect me to be there, and she wasn't in his company when I met her! She was alone, in one of the saloons, waiting for Desford to explain the circumstances to Miss – to the lady in whose charge he placed her!'

  'This,' said Mr Steane, in a stricken voice, 'is worse than I feared! Unhappy youth, has Lord Desford placed her in a fancy-house ?'

  'A fancy – No, of course he hasn't!' said Simon indignantly. 'He took her to an old friend's house – a very respectable house, I'll have you know!'

  'It doesn't sound like it to me,' said Mr Steane simply.

  'Oh, for God's sake, stop measuring twigs!' exclaimed Simon, quite exasperated. 'You're talking the most idiotic hornswoggle I've been obliged to listen to in all my life! And I'll be damned if I'll listen to any more of it! Go back to my brother's house, and leave your card there – one that bears your true name! – and inform his butler where you are to be found! I promise you he will seek you out directly, for nothing could please him more than to know that Miss Steane's father is alive, and able to take charge of her. Though whether he will be pleased when he discovers what sort of a fellow you are is another matter!'

  This savage rider failed to ruffle Mr Steane's serenity. 'I venture to say that he would be very far from pleased – if he did seek me out – for he would recognize in me an avenging parent. A Nemesis, young man! It is inexpressibly painful to me to doubt your veracity, but I am forced against my will to say that I do not believe you. In fact, it has been borne in upon me that you lie as fast as a dog can trot, Mr Carrington. Or even faster! What a shocking thing that your revered parent – always such a high stickler – should have one son who is a profligate, and another – if you will pardon the expression! – a gull-catcher! And not even an expert in that delicate art!'

  Simon strode across the room to the door, and wrenched it open. 'Out!' he said.

  Mr Steane continued to smile at him. 'Certainly, certainly, if you insist!' he said affably. 'But consider! Is it quite wise of you to insist? You have not thought fit to disclose my unfortunate child's whereabouts to me, so there is no other course open to me than to repair to Wolversham, and to lay the facts of this distressing affair before your dear father. A course which I cannot feel that you would wish me to pursue, Mr Carrington.'

  He was right. Inwardly seething, Simon was obliged to choke down his rage, and to search wildly in his brain for a way of escape from what he recognized as a dilemma. Not having seen Desford since he had parted from him at Inglehurst, he was in ignorance of Desford's meeting with his father, and on one point his determination was fixed: not through his agency was Lord Wroxton going to hear of the scrape Desford had got himself into. Lord Wroxton could be depended on to stand buff, but he would be furious with Desford for having, in the first place, befriended Cherry Steane, and in the second place for having made it necessary for him to treat with her father, or even to receive such a sneaking rascal in his house. If ever a flashy clever-shins meant mischief, Simon thought, this one did! And who knew what mischief he might be able to work, except Desford himself ? Simon did not for a moment believe that Des had made Cherry an offer of marriage, but if Cherry, prompted by her father, asserted that he had done so a rare case of pickles it would be! Considering the Honourable Wilfred Steane with narrowed eyes, Simon thought that while his object might be to achieve a brilliant match for his daughter it was far more probable that his real aim was pecuniary gain. Would my Lord Wroxton tip over the hush-money to keep his proud name free from the sort of shabby scandal with which it might well be smirched? Yes, Simon thought, he would! Damn Des for going off the lord knew where at just such a moment! If this cunning fox were to be kept away from Wolversham, there was nothing for it but to disclose to him that so far from having been dumped in a fancy-house Cherry had been placed in the care of a lady of unim peachable respectability. He was extremely reluctant to furnish Mr Steane with her precise direction, for not only had he an extremely vivid notion of what Lady Silverdale's feelings would be if that genteel hedge-bird presented himself at Inglehurst, but for anything he knew Desford might by this time have removed Cherry to some other asylum. The obvious way out of the dilemma was to persuade Mr Steane to await Desford's return to London: dash it all, it was he who had taken the wretched girl under his protection, and it was for him to decide whether or not to hand her over to her disreputable parent! But, whatever he did it was all Lombard Street to an eggshell that he would not, once he had set eyes on Mr Steane, present him to the Silverdale ladies.

  The problem seemed to be insoluble, but just as Mr Steane said, in a voice of unctuous triumph: 'Well, young man?' a brilliant idea shot into Simon's head. He said, shrugging his shoulders: 'Oh, very well! If you won't take my word for it that your daughter is in safe hands, I shall be compelled to give you her direction, I suppose! Mind, I'm strongly tempted to urge you to visit my father – lord, what a settler he'd tip you! – but he ain't in very plump currant at the moment, and it wouldn't do him any good to fly into one of his pelters. It wouldn't do you any good either, because he wouldn't believe a word of your story. More likely to have you kicked out of the house! If you ever succeeded in entering it, which I'll go bail you wouldn't! He ain't receiving anyone but his family, and his closest friends, until he's in better cue, and you had as well go rabbit-hunting with a dead ferret as try to get past his butler! However, my mother wouldn't like it above half if there was to be a brawl, so I will inform you that when Desford found that your father was gone out of town he escorted Miss Steane to Inglehurst – which is Lady Silverdale's country house! She, let me further inform you, moves in the first circles, and is as starched-up as my father! So rid your mind of anxiety, Mr Steane!'

  He ended on a confident note, for he had not failed to perceive a change in Mr Steane's expression, and was happy to know that he had succeeded in piercing his armour of selfsatisfaction. He still smiled, but with tightened lips; and his pouched eyes had lost their look of tolerant amusement. But when he spoke it was as silkily as ever. He said: 'I wonder what I can have said to make you take me for a looby? I assure you, my guileless young friend, you are making a sad mistake! I am, in common parlance, up to all the rigs! Do, pray, explain to me how it came about that a starched-up lady of the first consideration – I am not acquainted with her, but I take your word for that! – welcomed to her house a girl who was brought to her by your brother – unattended by an abigail, too!'

  'If your memory is as good as you would have me believe it is, you must surely recall that I told you Desford had taken your daughter to the house of an old friend !'

  'My memory, Mr Carrington, is excellent, for I also recall that when, not so many minutes past, you hovered on the brink of uttering the name of the female into those hands your brother had delivered my innocent child you uttered a single, betraying word! Not Lady, young man, but Miss!'

  'Very likely I did,' replied Simon coolly. 'Miss Silverdale, in fact. My brother's thoughts naturally flew to her when he was at his wits' end to know what to do with Miss Steane, rather than to her mother. You see, he is betrothed to her!'

  'What?' gasped Mr Steane, for the first time shaken off his balance. 'I don't believe it!'

  Simon raised his brows. 'Don't believe it?' he repeated, in a puzzled voice. 'Why don't you believe it?'

  Mr Steane made a gallant attempt to recover his poise, but the announcement had been so unexpected that all he could think of to say was: 'Profligate though he may be, I cannot believe that Lord Desford is so lost to al
l sense of propriety – of common decency! – as to take a girl he had seduced from her home to the lady to whom he had become affianced, and to claim her pro tection for that girl!'

  'I should think not indeed!' responded Simon readily. 'Of course he did no such thing! What's more, Miss Silverdale is far too well acquainted with him to suspect him of it! What you mean, sir, is that you don't wish to believe it, because no one but a barndoor savage could suppose that even the biggest rogue unhung would do such a thing!'

  But Mr Steane's agile brain had been working. He stabbed a forefinger at Simon, and demanded: 'And why, young man, did you not inform me at the outset of this circumstance?'

  'Because,' replied Simon, 'owing to my father's being in a tender state still, and to Lady Silverdale's wish to give a dressparty in honour of the betrothal at which he could not be present without knocking himself up, it has been agreed that no an nouncement of the engagement should be made until he is quite stout again. We, of course, know of it, and so, I daresay, do Desford's cronies, but as far as the scaff and ruff of society are concerned it is a secret. So I beg you won't spread it about, Mr Steane! A fine trimming my brother would give me if he knew I'd betrayed his confidence!'