Chapter 6
When Lord Mablethorpe was admitted to the house in St James’s Square, he was quite as much surprised as delighted to find Miss Grantham in a most encouraging mood. He was so accustomed to her laughing at him, and teasing him for his adoration of her, that he could scarcely believe his ears when, in response to his usual protestations of undying love, she allowed him to take her hand, and to press hot kisses on to her veined wrist.
“Oh, Deb, my lovely one, my dearest! If you would only marry me!” he said, in a thickened voice.
She touched his curly, cropped head caressingly. “Perhaps I will, Adrian.”
He was transported with rapture immediately, and caught her in his arms. “Deb! Deb, you are not funning? You mean it?”
She set her hands against his chest, holding him off a little. He was so young, and so absurdly vulnerable, that she felt compunction stir in her breast, and might have abandoned this way of punishing his cousin had she not recalled Ravenscar’s prediction that this youthful ardour would not last. She knew enough of striplings to be reasonably sure that this was true; and indeed wondered if it would even endure for two months. So she let him kiss her, which he did rather inexpertly, and gave him to understand that she was perfectly serious.
He began at once to make plans for the future. These included a scheme for a secret wedding to be performed immediately, and it took Deborah some time to convince him that such hole-in-corner behaviour was not to be contemplated for an instant. He had a great many arguments to put forward in support of his plan, but was presently brought to abandon it, on the score of its being very uncomplimentary to his bride. This notion, once delicately instilled into his brain, bore instant fruit. He was resolved to follow no course that could suggest to his world that he was in any way ashamed of Miss Grantham. At the same time, he continued to be urgent with Deborah to permit him to announce their betrothal in the columns of the London Gazette, and was with difficulty restrained from running off to arrange for the insertion of his advertisement then and there. Miss Grantham would not hear of it. She pointed out that, as a minor, it would lie in the power of his mother to contradict the advertisement in the next issue of the paper. He agreed to it that this would be very bad, and was obliged to admit that Lady Mablethorpe would be quite likely to take such prompt and humiliating action. But he thought it would be proper to advise his relations of the impending marriage, and begged Deborah’s permission to do so. She was half-inclined to refuse it, but a suspicion that Lady Mablethorpe had probably been behind Mr Ravenscar’s abominable conduct induced her to relent. She said that Adrian might tell his mother, but in strict confidence.
“I dare say there will be a great deal of unpleasantness,” she pointed out, “and you would not wish to lay me open to anything of that nature, would you?”
No, indeed! He wished nothing less. She was right, as always. “Only, Deb, I should like to tell Max. You will not object to that?”
“Not in the least!” said Deborah, with quite unnecessary emphasis. “I wish you will tell him!”
“Oh, that is famous!” he said, catching her hand to his lips again. “I knew you could not mind Max’s knowing! In point of fact, he knows my feelings: he is a good fellow, Max! He always gets me out of scrapes, you know, and he don’t preach like my uncle. I always tell him things.”
“Oh!” said Miss Grantham.
“You will like him excessively,” his lordship assured her. “He is quite my best friend. He is one of my trustees, you know.”
“Oh!” said Miss Grantham again.
“Yes, and that is in part why I told him about you, my dearest. Well, I did hope that he might be brought to explain it all to my mother, but he would not. I was devilish angry with him at the time, but I dare say he was right. I told him I did not think that be would fail me, but he promised me that he did not mean to, so you will see that everything will come about famously!”
“He said that, did he?” said Miss Grantham, in an odd voice. “Indeed!”
His lordship’s blue eyes smiled into hers with such an unclouded look of innocence that she shut her lips tightly on the words that were hovering on the tip of her tongue. “Why do you say it like that, Deb? Don’t you like Max?”
Miss Grantham was obliged to exercise her powers of self-restraint to the utmost. She would have been very happy to have poured the whole story of the insults she had endured into Lord Mablethorpe’s ears. That would shatter for ever Adrian’s blind trust in his cousin, and destroy whatever influence Ravenscar possessed over the boy. If he were fond of Adrian, which he seemed to be, it might even make him as unhappy as he deserved to be. Unfortunately, it was certain that it would make Adrian unhappy too. Miss Grantham resolved, with real heroism, to keep her dealings with Ravenscar secret. She said that she was not yet much acquainted with him.
“You will soon know him better,” promised Adrian. “You shall meet Arabella too—she is his half-sister. She is coming up to town today, and Max is actually going to take her to the ridotto at Vauxhall Gardens tomorrow! You must know that Max is a sad case, and will never go to such parties in the ordinary way!”
“A ridotto?” Deborah exclaimed, forming another resolve. “Oh, how much I should like to go!”
“Would you? Would you indeed, Deb?” Mablethorpe said eagerly. “I did not ask you, because you never will consent to go anywhere with me! But I should like of all things to escort you there! We will take sculls at Westminster, I’ll bespeak a box at Vauxhall, and we will spend the jolliest evening!”
He was not quite so enthusiastic about Miss Grantham’s suggestion that Lucius Kennet, and some other lady, should join the party, but upon its being pointed out to him that it would not be seemly for his adored Deborah to be seen alone with him, he acquiesced with a good grace, and very soon went off to make all the preparations imaginable to ensure the evening’s being a success.
Miss Grantham also made preparations, the first of these being to sally forth to Bond Street to buy herself some coquelicot ribbon, and a headdress quite as startling as any which her aunt could show. Poppy-coloured ribbons with a vive a bergere gown of green and white stripes would, she fancied, present a shockingly garish picture. If that failed to introduce the desired note of vulgarity, the head, which was constructed of a wisp of lace, a bunch of ribbons, and three of the tallest, most upstanding ostrich plumes ever seen, could not but achieve its object.
Mr Lucius Kennet did not put in a second appearance in St James’s Square until an advanced hour in the evening. When he did stroll into the gaming-saloon, Miss Grantham, who was standing behind the dealer at the faro-table, moved across the floor to meet him, and at once drew him aside. “Lucius,” she said anxiously, “do you know a vulgar widow?”
He burst out laughing. “Sure, what would you be wanting with the same, me darlin’?”
“Well, she need not be a widow,” conceded Deborah. “Only my aunt said that it was a pity you were acquainted with so many vulgar widows, that I thought—The thing is that I am going to Vauxhall with Mablethorpe tomorrow, and I shall need you. And the widow too, of course.”
It was not to be expected that Lucius Kennet would refrain from demanding an explanation of this odd request. Miss Grantham, who had been in the habit of confiding all her troubles to him, then took him into the adjoining saloon, and gave him a fluent account of the day’s events. He whistled when he heard of her refusal to accept twenty thousand pounds, but he had a very lively sense of humour, and her scheme for revenging herself appealed to him so strongly that he vowed he did not blame her for choosing it in preference to sordid gold. He promised to present himself at Mablethorpe’s box at Vauxhall with a widow who should be everything that was desired, and went off, still chuckling, to join a number of gentlemen seated round a table, and intent upon hazard.
Mr Ravenscar, meanwhile, had driven away in a towering rage, quite as heartily resolved as Miss Grantham to be revenged. To be crossed was a new experience, for from the circu
mstances of his father having died when he was still a very young man, and of his having come into the possession of the Ravenscar fortune, he had been used for a number of years to have everything very much as he chose. He was, in fact, accustomed to flattery, and downright sycophancy, both of which he despised; and since they had discovered from experience that he had a decided will of his own, neither his stepmother nor his aunt ever made any but half-hearted attempts to influence him. To be outfaced, therefore, by a girl from a gaming-house was something he had never anticipated, nor, consequently, made any plans to counter. He had been as surprised as he was enraged by the intransigent attitude assumed by Miss Grantham; his pride, bruised at the outset by the necessity of buying off such a creature, had now received a wound from which it would be long before it recovered. The thoughts he cherished about the lady were quite as unkind as any she indulged towards him; and his will was now set on rescuing Adrian from her toils without enriching her by as much as a farthing.
But although Mr Ravenscar’s imperious temper was hot, it was by no means ungoverned, since he was, as Miss Grantham had at first supposed, a sensible, even a hard-headed man. After dwelling grimly upon every circumstance of his encounter with Deborah, he was obliged to confess that her behaviour was not only unexpected, but almost inexplicable. His dislike of not getting his own way, coupled with the conviction of an infuriated moment that no price would be too heavy to pay to extricate Adrian from such an entanglement, had prompted him to make his final offer. The offer was regretted as soon as it was made, for twenty thousand pounds was a fantastic figure, and Mr Ravenscar disliked being swindled as much as he disliked having his will crossed. But the very magnitude of the sum ought at least to have given Miss Grantham pause. She had indeed pretended to consider the matter, but he was convinced that this was the merest affectation. She had never the smallest intention of relinquishing Adrian.
Having observed her demeanour towards his cousin, Ravenscar was perfectly certain that she did not feel a spark of love for him. He could only suppose that she had set her heart on acquiring a title, and a position in the world of ton. He acknowledged that he had not, at their first meeting, thought this of her. Reflecting, he admitted that on the whole he had been rather pleasantly surprised by her. She had a frank way of looking at one, and very easy, unaffected manners, quite at variance with the airs she had assumed during their drive together. Mr Ravenscar remembered the flash he had seen in her eyes, and frowned again. Had the circumstances been other than they were, he would almost have suspected her of being very angry. Her position in her aunt’s house, her enslavement of a green boy out of the schoolroom, her connexion with such a notorious rake as Ormskirk, must, however, put such a possibility out of count. He decided that she was playing a deep game, and registered a mental oath to frustrate her. But while he was turning over plans in his head, still that seed of doubt troubled his mind, and was presently fostered by a hurried visit from Lord Mablethorpe.
His lordship paid his second morning call in Grosvenor Square scarcely an hour after Ravenscar reached the house again, after taking his greys to Kensington and back. Hearing that his cousin was in his library, he declined being announced, but erupted upon Ravenscar without ceremony, saying impetuously as he entered the room: “Max! I am very sorry—you won’t mind, I am persuaded!—I find I cannot go with you to Vauxhall tomorrow!”
“Very well,” replied Ravenscar. “Have a glass of Madeira!”
“Well, really I ought to be on my way! However, perhaps—I have a toast to drink, Max!”
Ravenscar poured out the wine into two glasses. “Is it a momentous one? Shall I send for the Burgundy?”
Adrian laughed. “No, I like your Madeira. I must tell you that I have just come this instant from St James’s Square.” Ravenscar paused in the act of picking up his glass. He shot a quick, frowning look at his cousin. “Indeed!”
“Yes, and so I came on here at once. I had to see you!” Ravenscar stiffened, and turned to face his lordship. “Yes?”
“Max, she has consented at last!” Adrian said joyfully. “She says she will marry me as soon as I come of age!”
Ravenscar’s eyes remained fixed on the handsome young face confronting him, a startled expression in them. “Is that all she said?” he demanded.
“Good God, what more could I desire to hear from her? What a fellow you are, to be sure! She considers it would be unwise to announce the betrothal, but she made no objection to my telling you, and my mother, of course.”
“Oh, she made no objection to that? You said, in fact, that you would tell me?”
“Yes, certainly, and she said I might do so with her good will. Max, I am the happiest man alive! And that is why I cannot go with your party to Vauxhall.. I knew you would understand! Deb has a great fancy to go there, and I am to escort her. I am off now to bespeak a box, and supper. Bu first we must drink to my betrothal!”
Ravenscar picked up his glass. “I will drink to your future happiness,” he said.
Adrian tossed off his wine, and set the glass down. “Well that is the same thing. I must be off! I shall see you in a day or two, I dare say.”
“At Vauxhall, no doubt. Do you value my advice?”
“Why, you know I do!” Adrian said, pausing, with his hand on the door, and looking back.
“Say nothing of this to your mother.”
“Oh, you are too late! I have told her! Of course, she don’ like it, but only wait until she is acquainted with Deb! She will very soon change her opinion.”
It was fortunate that he was in haste to be off, and so did no wait long enough to see the expression in his cousin’s face look of contemptuous disbelief made Mr Ravenscar appear rather saturnine, and must have startled his unsuspicious relative. But he went away in happy ignorance of Ravenscar’s thoughts, bent only on making every arrangement for Miss Grantham’s entertainment on the following evening.
He left his cousin a prey to conflicting emotions. Rage at Miss Grantham for having countered his attack so swiftly rage at her impudence in encouraging Adrian to inform him o: the engagement, struggled with the first tiny shoots of the seed of doubt in his mind. It might be that Deborah was seeking to force up her price: but could she possibly hope for a larger sum than had already been offered to her? Considering this, he recalled that she had rallied him, on their first meeting on being the rich Mr Ravenscar. She had heard him lay a preposterous bet; perhaps she imagined that his fondness for Adrian would induce him to lay out some vast sum for his redemption. She should discover her mistake! But she had no told Adrian of her drive with him in the Park that morning He was unable to find a motive to account for this forbearance In his present white-hot ardour, Adrian would most assuredly have taken up the cudgels in her defence. She could have had nothing whatsoever to fear through laying bare the whole to Adrian, and she must have known this. What the devil was the wench up to? She might have destroyed at a blow any influence he had ever had over Adrian, and, incalculably, she had refrained from doing it. Mr Ravenscar began, reluctantly, to feel interested in the working of Miss Grantham’s mind.
The knowledge that Adrian had informed his parent of Deborah’s acceptance of his hand prepared Ravenscar for the inevitable sequel. Before the day was out, Lady Mablethorpe’s lozenge-carriage had drawn up in Grosvenor Square, and her ladyship, awe-inspiring in purple lusting and nodding plumes, was demanding to see her nephew.
Her call followed hard upon the arrival from Tunbridge Wells of Mrs and Miss Ravenscar, and she entered the house to find herself in a hall piled high with cloak-bags, portmanteaus, and band-boxes, which several harassed servants were endeavouring to remove with all possible dispatch. She was annoyed to find that she had mistimed her visit, but after a moment’s hesitation she decided to remain, and requested the butler to send in her card to Mrs Ravenscar.
She was almost immediately desired to step upstairs to the drawing-room, where she found her sister-in-law lying on a satin sofa, with her smelling-salts in
her hand, and a glass of ratafia-and-water on a small table beside her. Chattering animatedly to Ravenscar, by the window, her niece, Arabella, presented an agreeable picture in a flowered gown with fluttering ribbons, and a demure fichu round her neck.
Miss Ravenscar bore very little resemblance to her mother, who was a classically beautiful woman of pale colouring, and rather expressionless features. Miss Ravenscar was a tiny brunette, with the most vivid, mischievous little face imaginable. She was quite as dark as her half-brother, and much better looking. Her short upper lip had the most enchanting lift; her pansy-eyes sparkled as she talked, and a pair of dimples played at hide-and-seek at the corners of her mouth. When she caught sight of her aunt, she came running across the room to meet her, crying: “Oh, my dear Aunt Selina, how pleased I am to see you again! Oh, dearest aunt, I declare I never saw such a terrifying bonnet! It makes me quite frightened of you! I wonder my cousin will let you wear such an abominable thing!”
“Arabella, my love!” expostulated Mrs Ravenscar, in feeble accents.
But Arabella’s lilting smile and warm embrace quite robbed her impertinent speech of offence. Lady Mablethorpe patted her indulgently, calling her a naughty puss, and trod over to the sofa to kiss her sister-in-law’s faded cheek. Privately, she considered that Olivia might very well have risen to welcome her, but she made no comment, merely remarking that she was sorry to see her looking so poorly.
“It was the journey,” explained Mrs Ravenscar, in a gently complaining tone. “I have been telling Max he must positively have the coach-springs attended to. I thought I should have been shattered by the jolting. You must excuse my receiving you upon my sofa, but you know how the least exertion prostrates me, my dear Selina. Do, pray, be seated. How noisy it is in town! I do not know how my nerves will support it. I am conscious of all the bustle already.”
Faro’s Daughter Page 9
