by Fiona Hill
“Have I hurt you so much, Mamma? Indeed, I did not mean to!” Laura cried remorsefully. “But it was so difficult to say aloud; you know I have never disobeyed you in anything—well, not in any large thing, at least—and to oppose you now! Truly, I nearly told you all last night, but…I could not.”
“Well, never mind that now,” said Lady Eleanor, briskly but a little sadly. “If your marriage to Thaddeus would cause so much unhappiness, it clearly must not be. Though how we are to convince your father I do not know, for I fear he is indeed a little like your player king. I trust you have discovered no secret marriage contracts, like the one in your play?”
Laura sighed heavily. “No, Ma’am. I regret to say that was pure invention on my part, and has no correspondent in reality.”
“It is a shame. Sir Kenneth has long anticipated the joining of the Greys to the Fieldons—not that the Lowlands are not a very fine family—but still…”
“But the Greys shall be allied with the Fieldons!” Laura pointed out. “Thaddeus and Lizzy, you know. Do you think Sir Philip will be much distressed?”
“Well…the connection is a little more distant than one would have wished, but certainly my sister’s family is as noble as ours—though not quite as wealthy, I think.”
“I am convinced that will not matter much to Sir Philip. It is the blood that is important to him—not the money.”
“Indeed, I suppose it could easily have been a deal worse,” Lady Eleanor conceded. “You must speak to your father tonight.”
“I speak to him!” Laura exclaimed in horror, for she stood not a little in awe of her father. “Pray, Ma’am, will not you speak for me?”
But Lady Eleanor’s response to this request remained unspoken, for at that very moment Mr. Jacob Shaw made a quite startling discovery.
“I say!” he shouted, amazed. “There’s a stranger in the room!”
Chapter X
The others, who had been busy congratulating one another on the play, turned in a body in the direction of his pointing finger. They stood bewildered, for what Jacob had said was quite true. In a corner of the room, half-hidden in the dim light, sat an elderly, autocratic-looking man. The company stared.
“Who are you, sir?” Sir Kenneth demanded. “How did you come in?”
But the stranger did not rise, nor respond. Instead, he remained seated and came forward with his chair. As he did so, the assembled onlookers perceived that it was set on wheels, and that he propelled it by pushing at them, seemingly with an effort. A soft woollen blanket lay across his lap and legs, hiding them from view. “Good evening,” he said at last. “I beg you will not be angry; the butler told me a play was in progress, and I could not bear to wait outside when I might witness it so easily. Very well done,” he added, nodding and winking at Laura.
“Thank you, sir,” she answered, completely at a loss as to who he might be.
“I only saw Act III,” he went on. “I came in while the audience was in darkness. But do you not know me yet, Ken?” he asked, wheeling himself still farther into the light.
“Ken?” echoed Sir Kenneth, musing. “Nat! It’s never you, Nat?”
“On the contrary, my dear fellow; it’s always me! I hope you don’t mind my presuming upon your hospitality.”
“Mind? Why no, of course not! I’m delighted to see you, dear friend.”
Lady Eleanor laid a timid hand upon her husband’s arm. “Kenneth—” she began.
“Oh, pardon me, my dear. Lady Eleanor, you will remember our friend, Baron Nathanial Lowland. Baron Lowland, my wife.”
Laura looked a pointed question at Ashley. He nodded, smiling, but indicated to her that she should say nothing.
“Pleased to meet you again, Ma’am,” said the Baron. “High time, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she answered, smiling uncertainly at him and at her husband.
“Wasn’t sure you’d want to see me, Ken,” the Baron went on, his jagged features taking on a quizzical expression. “Heard you were marrying your girl off to someone I don’t know. That wouldn’t be you, young cub, would it?” he inquired, looking directly at Thaddeus.
“It would, sir,” said he.
“Well, I don’t like to disturb you, young man, but there’s prior claims on Miss Laura Fieldon—indeed there are!”
“There are?” said Thaddeus, astonished.
“Indeed,” the Baron reiterated. “Which I’m not of a mind to give up, young man! But we can talk of this later,” he added. “I’m sure Sir Kenneth won’t want me talking without I’ve a glass of port in my hand, and me such an old man, too! Why don’t you youngsters go and take off your frills, and meet us all in the drawing room,” he suggested. “I daresay you’ve got a drawing room, eh Kenneth?”
Sir Kenneth nodded vaguely. Then, as no one moved, he repeated the Baron’s instructions: “Take off your costumes and dress for supper,” he said. “We’ll see you in the drawing room in half an hour.”
Lady Eleanor was at a loss for what to do. If the discussion shortly to take place in the drawing room concerned what she thought it would, the Simpsons would have to be excluded from it—though it was as well, she reflected, that the Greys were present. “Mrs. Simpson,” she began, wondering how to frame her intimation, “the younger children must be getting weary; I understand how that is. Perhaps it would be—perhaps it would be for the best if you—took them home. I do not mean to seem ungracious, but…”
For once Mrs. Simpson seemed to understand what was not told to her twice. She would have loved to stay and hear what the Baron meant to say, for it would surely make as neat a titbit of gossip as one could wish for, but she quite understood her hostess. “Never you mind, dear,” she assured her. “We’ll be off as soon as Clio comes down.”
Lady Eleanor heaved a sigh of relief and squeezed her friend’s hand. “Clio was wonderful,” she remarked diplomatically.
Ashley Lowland, naturally enough, had remained some moments behind the others to greet his father. Laura loitered in the corridor, waiting for him. When at last he came out she grasped his hand eagerly and demanded, “This was the reason for your smile, was it not?”
Ashley bowed.
“What does your father mean to do? What does he mean by ‘prior claims’?”
But Ashley would only smile mysteriously. “Wait a moment, my dearest,” he said. “You shall know anon.”
“But I want to know now!” she insisted, unavailingly. She hounded him with questions all the way up the stairs, but he remained silent. Giving up at last, she retraced her steps down the stairs and was the first of the young folk to reach the drawing room. Then, to her disappointment, she was subjected to a round of quite ordinary questions put to her by the Baron. Whatever it was he wished to say, he was determined to keep it to himself until Thaddeus and Ashley had arrived.
Elizabeth, who had been carried in from the Red Saloon, was striving quietly to catch her cousin’s attention. When at last she did so, she took hold of Laura’s hand and held it tightly.
“You have no idea how I have hated myself!” she confided in a low voice.
“I have a very good idea, my dear,” Laura contradicted, smiling down upon her. “We have all—been at odds with our consciences, I think, but it is finished now. At least, I hope so, dear Lizzy!” she added, with a quick glance at her father.
“Surely Sir Kenneth is not so set upon the match that he will still desire it!” Elizabeth objected. “I think he wishes for nothing so much as for your happiness.”
“So my mother tells me,” Laura agreed uncertainly. “Do you think my uncle Shaw will approve of Thaddeus?”
“How could he not?” asked Elizabeth simply. “Oh, Laura, are you quite sure that you do not love him? He is so fine—!”
“Please, set your mind at ease,” Laura smiled. “I know it must seem impossible to you, but indeed I do not love him—except as a sort of brother, and I know that is not what you mean. How sad that we could not have talked of this sooner!”
“I could not,” admitted Lizzy. “I kept hoping it would go away.”
“Well, I hope it never does,” her cousin said, “and I wish you both will be very happy. But here is Thaddeus now; I must let him take your hand.” She moved away.
Ashley joined the party soon after Mr. Grey, and went to stand near Laura. She, looking about her, reflected that quite a large number of people were gathered here, each seemingly as involved as the other. There were her parents, of course, and the baron and Ashley; the Greys and the Shaws sat near one another, observing the proceedings carefully, though the two younger Shaws were denied entrance—greatly to Emily’s chagrin. And there was herself, and Lizzy, whose hand Thaddeus held boldly. But where were the Reverend and Miss Webb?
A very good question. Somehow—Miss Webb did not know how it was—their brief colloquy had extended itself amazingly. They stood upon the empty stage, behind the drawn curtains, and came to a very good understanding indeed, utterly oblivious to the arrival of Baron Lowland and the confusion of the others. Laura, concluding incorrectly that they must both be still dressing, decided that the conference about to take place could go forward very well without them, and did not question their whereabouts further. Baron Lowland and her father were talking of old friends and old places; Laura felt that she would die if they did not realise soon that it was time to return to the Baron’s mysterious assertions. Fortunately, they did realise it presently, and Nathanial Lowland chided Sir Kenneth thus:
“I was mightily surprised, Ken,” he said, “one might almost say shocked, when we received the announcement of Miss Laura’s wedding. What a sorry thing is friendship, I thought, if Ken can forget me thus. But I’m never one to push, you know, so I swallowed my grief and pride and sent my son here to see what was up. He’s a good lad, you know,” he added, fixing Sir Kenneth with a challenging eye.
“As good as may be,” Sir Kenneth assented, first from courtesy and second from truthfulness.
“I’m glad you think so, Ken. Because I’d like to know what the devil you mean by marrying your girl to someone other than my son!”
“I beg your pardon?” said Sir Kenneth, startled.
“Is it possible you’ve forgotten, man?” cried the Baron. “When we christened her, was she not named for my wife? And did we not agree that when she came of age, she’d wed my son? I’ll swear on my life we did!”
“But how can this be, Nat?” asked Sir Kenneth, sincerely bewildered. “I have no recollection of it at all!”
‘“Then you’re a sorry friend, Ken, and I regret to say it, but you serve me poorly! I know the years have been long since we met last, but I never thought to see you betray me.” He shook his head in an excellent imitation of mournfulness, but Laura, though she doubted her eyes very much, could have sworn she saw him wink at her. She looked up suddenly at Ashley and whispered:
“Was there really such an agreement? Did he—?”
Ashley grinned down at her and shook his head very slightly. “No,” he whispered back. “But hush, or you’ll ruin it!”
“Ashley!” she exclaimed.
Her father was speaking in response to the Baron’s accusations.
“I assure you, Nat, I never thought to betray you either. If what you say is true—”
“Will you doubt my word, now?” the Baron thundered, feigning outrage.
“Calm yourself, I beg you!” Sir Kenneth pleaded.
“Aye, calm myself!” he roared. “I’m older than my years, and sick as well, and my doctor’s been telling me to calm myself these ten years, but I’m not dead yet and I’ll not take this lying down! What do you say to mat, Ken Fieldon?”
“I say—” Sir Kenneth began, looking over to Sir Philip Grey, “I say, we must talk this out.”
“And what do you think we are doing?” the Baron raged.
“Nat, for God’s sake,” said Kenneth uneasily, as Sir Philip (who had not at all understood the import of the play) observed the proceedings with increased attention.
Ashley Lowland stepped forward suddenly. “Father,” he said, “if Sir Kenneth thinks too little of me to give me his daughter’s hand, I fear we must go away at once. Come, permit me—” He began to reach for the handles of his father’s wheelchair.
“No, stop a minute!” Sir Kenneth broke in. “It is not that I think too little of you, my boy; how could I do that? But Laura is already betrothed, and Sir Philip—”
“You see, sir,” Ashley went on, beginning to push the chair forward, “I told you in my letter it will not answer. I’m afraid you must accustom yourself to the thought of dying friendless, but never mind—”
“Now, damme, this is enough!” cried Sir Kenneth, losing his patience at last. “Not another word from you, Ashley, until I have finished. The devil fly away with Sir Philip; you shall have Laura! Begging your pardon, Philip,” he added lamely.
Ashley left his father’s chair and grasped Sir Kenneth’s hand, very nearly wringing the life out of it. “Thank you, sir,” he said, “thank you.”
“But what the deuce are we to do with Thad?” asked Kenneth, seeking to extricate his hand from Ashley’s ecstatic grip. “It isn’t right, that’s all there is to it!”
“Sir,” said Thaddeus, coming forward at last, and addressing himself to Kenneth, “if I may speak a moment. Lord Shaw,” he continued, glancing nervously at his father, “will you permit me to offer for your daughter Elizabeth?”
“Elizabeth?” said Lord Shaw, sincerely surprised. “Why—why, if you are not betrothed to Laura…but what say your parents to this?”
Sir Philip arose. “I declare I have never sat through a more confusing hour than this one,” he said. “Thad, do I understand you to say that you wish to wed Laura’s cousin, and not Laura?”
“You do, sir,” said his son.
“Then—I don’t see why not,” he assented uncertainly. “Lord Shaw—?”
“If it is what the young people wish,” said Wilmot, regarding his daughter quizzically.
“Oh, it is, Papa!” she averred joyfully. “Oh, Thaddeus!”
Lord Shaw shot a glance at his wife, who answered with a wide-eyed look and a brief shrug. Thaddeus shook his hand, then his father’s, then Sir Kenneth’s. He settled at last on the couch, next to his beloved.
“Now, there is one thing more,” Sir Kenneth began, a little pompously. “No one has asked Laura if she wants to marry Ashley. My daughter, come here,” he commanded, stretching out a hand to her. Laura went, casting a backwards glance at Ashley. “I wish you to understand that you need not marry anyone whom you do not love—agreements or no agreements. You see Baron Lowland wishes you for his daughter-in-law, and I own I should not be averse to such a union, but the decision rests with you. Do you desire some time to consider this proposal?”
“Father,” she started slowly, “I do not like to contradict you. However, it is not true that no one has asked me if I wish to marry Mr. Lowland. Mr. Lowland himself asked me—” she regarded her father almost shyly—“some five days ago. And I said I should like to very much!”
“You said what?” Sir Kenneth exclaimed. He was about to ask her how she meant to marry Ashley when she was betrothed to Thaddeus, but he thought better of it suddenly and decided to leave well enough alone. “Then it is all resolved,” he said instead, kissing his only daughter upon her brow. “Go with my blessing. Though I’m damned if I can remember agreeing to this, Nat!”
But the Baron merely laughed, and bid his prospective daughter-in-law come give him a kiss. She did so, and kissed her mother, and Elizabeth, and even Thaddeus—upon the cheek of course—before going back to gaze enraptured upon her betrothed. For some moments the party sat in silence, each trying to sort out the events of the last hour. At last Sir Kenneth remembered that he was the host, and signalled to the butler to bring in a round of ratafia and port, along with some champagne for those who wished it.
“To the bride!” proposed Baron Lowland, raising his glass to Elizabeth.
“To the groom!” suggested Sir Kenneth, touching his glass to Thaddeus’.
“The groom!” agreed Sir Philip, with a long glance at Ashley.
Miss Webb and Mr. Chance entered as these toasts were being drunk. “It was a lovely play, was it not, Lady Eleanor?” asked Lavinia, who had, of course, no idea of what had passed.
“My compliments to your daughter,” said Mr. Chance to Sir Kenneth, “a most apt playwright.”
“Ah, Mr. Chance,” Sir Kenneth answered. “I have some tidings for you regarding tomorrow.”
“Do you?” inquired the rector. “But so have I! Mine are the more important, I daresay,” he continued.
In a very few minutes toasts were being drunk to the Reverend and Miss Webb (who blushed quite as much as any of the other newly betrothed young ladies), and by this couple to the others. The party Mr. Jacob and Miss Emily Shaw found when they burst into the drawing room was slightly inebriated, and very jolly.
“Such news!” cried Jacob, almost out of breath. “Famous!” he asserted.
“Oh, Mamma, wait until you see!” seconded Miss Emily. “The most amazing thing—”
“Hush a moment, both of you,” requested Lady Jessica. Her offspring were loath to do so, but they submitted and were silent for a moment. However, neither of them showed as much interest in what they were told as might perhaps have been expected. Instead, Jacob insisted upon returning immediately to his own announcement.
“We’ve opened the chest,” he proclaimed.
“The one from the secret chamber,” his sister explained.
“And it’s got—”
“Poems in it!” she interrupted, determined that she should deliver the tidings. “The most beautiful poems!”
“Poor fellow! Just think—he was a monk, you know, and they’re all written to a lady he fell in love with. Just think!”
“The most beautiful things!” Emily insisted. “So sad, too…He didn’t want to be in love with her, you can tell. But you must read them,” she went on, as no one seemed overwhelmed. She ran out of the room and returned with a sheaf of ancient vellum papers, written upon in a thick, very black hand. “I daresay he should have liked to burn them, but perhaps he couldn’t bring himself to do it.”
