A Regency Scandal

by Alice Chetwynd Ley

  She repeated her hospitable assurances, glancing for support towards Dorinda, who so far had said nothing. As she looked into her daughter’s face, for the first time an uneasy thought came into her mind. She wondered then that she had never entertained the notion before, and blamed herself for being so blind. But so it was with children; one tended to forget that with every day, every month, every year, they left childhood behind. She had watched Dorinda emerging into womanhood, yet had failed to realise that her little girl now had a woman’s emotions.

  She began to wish that she had not been so cordial in welcoming Mr. Stratton to return. To be sure, he seemed — now she came to study the matter in that light — to be as attracted to Dorinda as the child was to him. But a man’s more volatile feelings were scarcely to be trusted to endure, the mother warned herself, especially on the sketchy foundation of a mere three weeks’ acquaintance. Mr. Stratton was young, handsome and almost certainly of superior rank and fortune to themselves. He would return home, see another pretty face belonging to a girl nearer to himself in station, and forget Dorinda. But would Dorinda forget him so easily?

  During the weeks that followed, she watched the girl anxiously, and saw that it would not be so. Dorinda tried to be as cheerful as formerly, but the lightness had gone from her step and her laughter was forced. She would often lay aside her book or her needlework and sit staring into space; and once, during a night when Mrs. Lathom was sleeping badly, she thought she heard the sound of muffled sobs coming from the adjoining bedroom. She tiptoed in without lighting a candle and stood for a few moments by Dorinda’s bed. There was no further sound, however, and the girl lay still as though in sleep. Nevertheless, Mrs. Lathom returned to her own room dissatisfied. It was possible that Dorinda had heard her mother’s stealthy approach and had managed to stifle her weeping.

  As the weather improved, Mrs. Lathom began to plan outings, and even talked of a visit to the uncle in London whom Dorinda had never yet seen.

  “There has never been time, somehow, to keep up a regular correspondence with my brother since my marriage, and we’ve always lived so far apart. But I’m sure I’d not find him changed, for we were always happy together as children, and I don’t doubt he would make us welcome in his home.”

  Dorinda showed no enthusiasm for the suggestion, so it was allowed to lapse. The fresh air and exercise on their small excursions about the countryside restored a little colour to her cheeks but failed to bring back her animation. Mrs. Lathom wisely kept her own counsel, not forcing a confidence, but trusting to time to make a change for the better.

  And then one day towards the middle of May he returned, after an absence of a month or more. It was Dorinda who answered the knock, rising lethargically to do so and looking as if the caller, whoever it might be, could have no interest for her. The early days, when she had rushed to the door at the faintest touch on the knocker, had long since gone by. Opening the door, she stood for a moment transfixed, then gave a glad cry which made Mrs. Lathom start from her chair.

  “Mama! Only see who is come!”

  By the time her mother had reached the door, Dorinda’s hands were held fast in the young man’s, and they were gazing at each other as if nothing else mattered but being together again. They started quickly apart at Mrs. Lathom’s approach; Dorinda blushed and Mr. Stratton gave an apologetic cough. The next moment he was bowing and greeting the elder lady with all his accustomed charm.

  She tried to respond in the old way; but her recent disquiet had given an air of reserve to her manner which did not entirely escape either of the young people, engrossed though they obviously were in each other. Mr. Stratton explained that he had come down to Sussex for a few days only, and was putting up at the George Inn.

  “But remembering your kind assurances, ma’am, when last we met, I made so bold as to look you up without ceremony,” he concluded, with the faintest hint of reproach. “If, however, I arrive at an inconvenient moment, pray tell me so at once, and I will call again at some more suitable time.”

  Seeing Dorinda’s eyes also fixed on her with a reproachful look, she at once felt guilty and did her best to dispel the impression she had evidently created. It was impossible to withstand Mr. Stratton’s diffident charm for long; and seeing her daughter happy for the first time in a month, how could she do anything to take the sparkle from those speaking eyes? Yet she knew that this state of affairs could not be permitted to continue. Before Mr. Stratton returned once more to his home in Oxfordshire, she would be obliged to have a serious talk with him.

  Her determination hardened over the next few days, which he spent exclusively in their company. He had brought his curricle with him and begged earnestly to be allowed to take Dorinda for a short drive, for the weather was fine and warm. Although there was nothing to offend the proprieties in this suggestion, as they would be accompanied by a groom sitting up behind the vehicle, Mrs. Lathom steadfastly refused. Dorinda made no secret of her disappointment, so instead Mr. Stratton hired a carriage to enable Mrs. Lathom to accompany them. They drove along the coast to Hastings, ate a cold collation at a comfortable inn, and returned to the cottage in the late afternoon after a most pleasant outing.

  The two young people did not talk at great length to each other and never sought to exclude her from their conversation; yet Mrs. Lathom felt that, as far as they were concerned, she simply did not exist. Their whole world was bound up in one another.

  The few days of his visit passed all too soon, and on the morning when he was to call and take leave of them, Mrs. Lathom determined to speak. At the time he was due to arrive, she sent Dorinda, already subdued and listless, into the garden.

  “I will call you presently, child, but don’t come in until I do. I wish to have a few words alone with Mr. Stratton.”

  Dorinda opened her eyes wide. “But, Mama — but why? Oh, I do hope you don’t wish to say anything unpleasant to him! But how could you? What could he possibly have done to upset you, so kind and considerate as he always is? Dearest Mama, pray, pray don’t be vexed with him!”

  She looked as if she would burst into tears at any moment, so her mother put an arm about her, holding her close.

  “Now don’t be foolish, Dorrie. Of course I’m not vexed. What I have to say won’t take long, and I’ll explain it all to you later. Now run along like a good girl, do, and presently I’ll call you to join us. And pray don’t cry, for you won’t wish to show Mr. Stratton a tear-marked face, will you, my love?”

  These last words had the desired effect. Dorinda forced back her tears and obediently stepped out into the sunny little garden at the back of the house. Mrs. Lathom carefully shut the door on her, then went into the parlour to await the visitor.

  He arrived promptly and was invited inside. As he took a seat, he looked inquiringly about him, evidently a little surprised at not finding Dorinda present. He said nothing for a time, however, until a few commonplace remarks about the weather had passed between them. Then he ventured to ask after Miss Lathom, saying that he trusted she was well.

  “Thank you, Mr. Stratton, Dorinda is in her usual health, if not perhaps in the best of spirits,” she replied, gravely. “She will be joining us presently to bid you good-bye, but I wished to see you alone for a few moments.”

  An uneasy expression came into his face, but he made no remark, waiting for her to continue.

  “It is difficult for me to say what is in my mind, sir, but my duty requires me to make the attempt.”

  She paused, hoping for some help from him, as he must surely see the trend of her thoughts. When he still sat silent, she braced herself to come to the point.

  “You have lately been seeing a great deal of my daughter, sir.” He nodded, but still said nothing. “She is very young and has never before been in the company of a young gentleman. We live very retired here, as you may judge for yourself. Indeed, my late husband’s profession meant that we were often moving from one place to another, so that it was difficult to form intimate
friendships. You are the only person whom we can think of in that way, and I have good reason to suppose that my dear child has begun to depend too much upon your friendship.”

  At last he spoke. “My dear lady, she can certainly depend upon it. I have the highest regard for Miss Dorinda, as I have for yourself.”

  “Yes, but I think you don’t quite see. Oh, dear, it’s so difficult to put into words! Can you not understand? Dorinda has come to think of you as—” She broke off, embarrassed, yet realising she must continue. “In short, Mr. Stratton, I think it would be best if you did not see her again.”

  “Not see her again!”

  The exclamation burst from him. It was the first unguarded utterance he had made in the whole interview, and she could see from his expression that he was now in the grip of a powerful emotion.

  “No, do not say so!” he went on, with renewed intensity. “I can’t do it — I — I love her dearly, Mrs. Lathom, indeed I do.”

  Mrs. Lathom relaxed, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

  “You do? But, there, I’d guessed as much from the way you both behaved! Well, in that case, my warnings are unnecessary, and there’s nothing more for me to do than give you both my blessing — which I do most cordially, my dear Mr. Stratton, for I can think of no one whom I would rather have for a son-in-law! Only wait just a moment while I fetch my darling girl, and you can tell her everything that’s in your heart.” She rose hastily, almost beside herself with joy. “To think of it — I was feeling so downcast just before you arrived, and now it’s all turned out delightfully! Oh, my dearest Dorinda — she little knows at the moment what happiness is in store for her!”

  “One moment, ma’am, I beg you.”

  He put out a hand to detain her headlong rush from the room. She looked at him, surprised, and saw that his face had clouded over with doubt and anxiety.

  “What is it?” she asked, sharply. “Is something amiss?”

  He nodded. “I need scarce tell you, ma’am, that nothing would give me greater happiness than to make Miss Dorinda my wife. But there is an obstacle in the way — and I fear it may prove a difficult one to overcome.”

  “An obstacle? What do you mean?”

  “I mean that in certain matters — and my marriage would unquestionably be one — I’m not entirely my own master. I am obliged to consult my father’s wishes, as well as my own.”

  “Of course!” she exclaimed, her face clearing. “No right-thinking young gentleman would consider marrying without his father’s consent. And since your parents have not yet made the acquaintance of my daughter, naturally their consent can’t be expected until they have done so. Perhaps you have already spoken to them about your feelings for Dorinda?”

  “No,” he replied, reluctantly. “No, so far I have said nothing. I — for one thing, I could not be certain that my regard for her was reciprocated.”

  She was pleased to think that he had not taken for granted what to her had been so plain.

  “Oh, well, that is very natural, my dear Mr. Stratton! But when all is settled between you and Dorinda — and although I should not say so, I know you need have no doubts about the way she will receive your addresses — then you’ll be able to inform your parents and arrange for a meeting as soon as possible.”

  She waited for him to agree to this, pondering meanwhile, womanlike, on what she and Dorinda would wear when the meeting took place. It was obvious that Mr. Stratton came of a good family and most likely a wealthy one into the bargain. She was determined to be well dressed for the occasion, even if the outlay made a considerable hole in her slender savings. There had been a roll of lavender silk in a draper’s at Dover; it would cost a good deal, but set against Dorrie’s fair colouring and pale gold hair, what parents would be able to resist the picture she would make? That and, much more, her natural sweetness must carry the day.

  She drew back from these reflections to realise that Mr. Stratton had given no answer although several minutes had elapsed. She looked at him enquiringly.

  “It’s all more difficult than you can well imagine, ma’am,” he said, haltingly. “My father’s not — an easy man. He’s accustomed to having his own way.”

  She paused to consider the implications of this.

  “Do you mean that perhaps he has other matrimonial plans for you, sir?”

  “No — that is to say, I don’t know, for so far we’ve never discussed the matter.” He hesitated. “But I have an uneasy suspicion that he would expect me to make what is generally thought of as a — as an advantageous match. From a worldly point of view, I mean,” he added hastily.

  “I see.” She sat down again heavily. “Yes, I do see your difficulty. My daughter can bring you no dowry but her own natural endowments, I fear. As to birth, although we’re gentlefolk we cannot claim to come very high in the social scale. Both my father and my husband’s were of the clergy, with only moderate incomes. We have no genteel connections, either, that I can boast of. You see how we live — in tolerable comfort, but certainly not in luxury.” She looked him straight in the eye. “You have never told us much concerning yourself, Mr. Stratton. Indeed, until this moment you’ve never even mentioned your parents — but I collect that your circumstances must be rather different from ours?”

  He raised his shoulders in a deprecating gesture.

  “I fear so, Mrs. Lathom — would to God they were not! I am an only son, heir to a title and estate. If I haven’t told you this before, it was only to spare you possible embarrassment; but believe me, I have been happier in your cottage than I’ve ever been in Alv — in my own home.”

  He remembered in time to suppress the name of Alvington Hall. His last remark had been as sincere as his feelings for Dorinda Lathom were; but he had not yet abandoned all discretion. Mrs. Lathom knew him as Mr. Stratton. That was his family name, and he was practising no serious deception in using what was lawfully his. There was no need for her to know that he was also Viscount Shaldon and heir to an Earldom; indeed, it could be positively dangerous for her to possess that information.

  It was her turn to be silent.

  “Then what is to be done?” she asked at last, in a despondent tone.

  He leapt to his feet. “Only permit me to make my feelings known to Miss Dorinda, and to become betrothed to her! Once we are affianced, I will find the right moment to tell my father, and all will be well, never fear. He could hardly require me to draw back from a betrothal.”

  “He might,” said Mrs. Lathom, dubiously, “if he has not sanctioned it first. Are you — forgive me for asking, Mr. Stratton, but I think the question is needed — have you attained your majority?”

  Neville Stratton looked crestfallen for a moment. “Not quite, ma’am. I shall be one and twenty in a fortnight’s time. But that’s no matter.”

  She shook her head. “There I cannot agree. How can we expect your father to look with favour on a clandestine engagement entered into while you’re still under age? He would then have every justification for thinking me a scheming woman anxious to marry my daughter well. No, sir, I believe that your only course is to go to him and ask his permission — it’s the only manly thing to do.” Seeing that this had intensified the downcast expression on his face, she smiled encouragingly. “Cheer up, my dear young man. I feel sure that your parent won’t stand in the way of your happiness, whatever other ambitions he may have had for you.”

  “Will he not?” answered Neville, savagely. “I wish I could be as certain of that! He has the most infernal temper, ma’am, allow me to tell you.”

  “Perhaps so, but once he has recovered from it, he will wish only for what will make you happy, depend upon it. We are all the same, we parents, you know — our bark is worse than our bite.”

  He made no reply for a moment. How could this gentle, tolerant woman understand the disposition of such a man as the Earl of Alvington? It was useless to try to explain, but at least he would persuade her to let him see Dorinda. That much, he though
t resentfully, was owing to him after his honest avowal of his intentions — an avowal brought on by the woman’s interference. He stifled his resentment with the ease of long practice, and turned a pleading smile on her.

  “But you will allow me to speak to Miss Dorinda of my feelings, ma’am, even if I may not ask her to become betrothed to me? You surely can’t be so cruel as to command my silence? I beg you, Mrs. Lathom, don’t ask that of me!”

  No, she could not ask it, with the image of her daughter’s sad little face before her mind. And so Mrs. Lathom sent him out into the garden to bring the waiting girl such tidings as she had scarcely dared to hope for during the past poignant weeks of separation from the man who now meant all the world to her.

  CHAPTER III

  “And so you see how it is,” Neville concluded, after confiding his story to the reluctant ear of Edward Lydney. “What’s to be done, Ned?”

  The other pursed his lips consideringly. “There are only two courses of action, as I see it,” he pronounced, at length. “Either you give up the notion of marrying this girl—”

  “But, damn it, man, I tell you I’m mad for her! And there’s no other way but marriage. Her mother’s a confounded dragon of a female, who guards her as if she were the Crown jewels. Not that Dorinda isn’t a jewel,” he added, as a vivid image of her bright presence rose suddenly to his mind, stirring his senses. “She’s the most adorable creature — so fresh, so guileless and trusting! Besides being lovely enough to send a man near demented to possess her!”

  Lydney suppressed a yawn and tried not to look bored. “Very well. Since you’re determined you must have her, the only other thing is to tell your father so.”