Miss Grantham, who had been searching in her cupboard, turned, with one of her own nightgowns over her arm. “I am afraid you will be lost in this,” she said, “but it must serve for tonight. Tomorrow I will see about procuring clothes for you.”
“Oh, I never thought of that!” exclaimed Phoebe. “To be sure I have nothing in the world now but what I stand up in, and how can I travel to Wales in my party dress? Oh dear, I shall be such a charge on you, dear ma’am! But indeed my aunt will pay you back, I promise!”
“I wish you will call me Deb,” said Miss Grantham. “As to travelling into Wales, do you know, I have been thinking it over, and I fancy I have a better scheme in my head than that?”
“What is it?” asked Phoebe, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and clasping her hands in her lap. “I will do anything which you and Lord Mablethorpe think right.”
“Well, it seems to me,” said Miss Grantham, “that if you go to your aunt your Papa will very likely fetch you back. It would be much better if he did not know where you were. In the morning, we will write him a letter between us. You will explain that you do not wish to marry Sir James—”
“But he knows that!”
“Very well, you will remind him of it. You will say that you have sought refuge with friends, who are taking you into the country, and that you won’t return to your home unless he inserts an advertisement in the Morning Post, signifying that he will not ask you to marry Sir James.”
Phoebe looked a little doubtful. “Yes, but my Papa is so obstinate that I don’t suppose he will do it.”
“Fiddle! If he cannot find you, and he will not, he must do so.”
“He will be dreadfully angry,” said Phoebe, with a shiver.
“No, he will be glad to have you restored to him. Besides, he would be just as angry if you went to your aunt, would he not?”
“Yes, indeed he would! Oh dear, do you think I ought not to have run away at all? It happened so quickly that I had scarcely time to think, and now I see that whatever I do they will be angry with me. Besides, I have no friends, so where am I to go?”
“Nowhere, silly puss! You will stay here with me until your parents relent, or until I—until Lord Mablethorpe and I think what is to be done with you.”
“Oh!” cried Phoebe, jumping up. “If only I could! And then perhaps I could become a governess, or an actress, or something of that nature, and never, never go home again!”
“As to that,” said Miss Grantham diplomatically, “we shall have to consult Lord Mablethorpe.”
“Oh yes! He will know what I ought to do!” agreed Phoebe confidently.
Miss Grantham, having no such faith in his lordship’s wisdom, mentally resolved to prime him well, and led Miss Laxton away to the spare bedchamber, helped her to undress, and tucked her up snugly for the night.
Chapter 8
When Lady Bellingham, sipping her early chocolate in bed on the following morning, was informed by her niece that she had brought home a guest to stay, she not unnaturally demanded to know who the visitor might be. When she learned that she was none other than the Honourable Phoebe Laxton, and that her visit would be for an indefinite time, she laid down her cup and saucer and regarded Deborah with real concern.
“Deb, my love, are you feeling quite the thing?” she asked anxiously. “You never told me that you were acquainted with the Laxtons, and why in heaven’s name should one of them wish to come and stay here, when they have a very good house of their own?”
“I am not acquainted with the Laxtons,” replied Miss Grantham, with a twinkle. “I never saw this child in my life until yesterday. I am helping her to escape from gross persecution, you must know.”
“Oh dear, as though we had not trouble enough!” groaned her aunt. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, you unnatural girl!”
Deborah laughed, and, sitting down beside the bed, gave Lady Bellingham an account of the events of the evening. Her ladyship was quite horrified, and told her that she was little better than a kidnapper. She then begged her to consider the danger she courted in offending a man of Filey’s standing in the world, not to mention Miss Laxton’s parents, and expressed herself as being fully satisfied now that she was out of her mind.
“Besides, Deb, what are we to do with the girl if her parents don’t relent?” she asked reasonably.
Miss Grantham’s eyes danced. “Well, dear ma’am, I have a little plan of my own for Phoebe’s future,” she said.
Lady Bellingham looked at her uneasily. “I don’t trust you, Deb. I know you have some dreadful scheme in your head when you look like that! What am I to say if Lady Laxton comes here demanding her daughter?”
“Dearest Aunt Lizzie, this must surely be the last house in London where Lady Laxton would think of looking for her daughter! While she remains with us, by the way, she is to be known as Miss Smith, in case the servants should talk.”
“Yes, but how long is she to remain with us?” asked her ladyship. “If it is not just like you, Deb, to fill the house with guests when there is no money to pay the coal-bill! And poor Kit is coming next week besides! We shall be ruined! And I must tell you that Ormskirk was here last night, and when he asked me where you were I declare I hardly knew how to answer him. But I dare say he guessed, for he said in a very dry voice that he saw Mablethorpe was absent too. Oh dear, what a tangle we are in, my love, and you making it so much the worse with all this nonsense about Miss Laxton, let alone enraging Ravenscar, and behaving so abominably at Vauxhall that I declare I feel quite ashamed to own you! Where is this girl?”
Miss Grantham then offered to fetch Phoebe for inspection. Lady Bellingham said that she had no wish to see her, but if she were to be compelled to house her for the rest of her life, as she had little doubt would turn out to be the case, she supposed she had better make her acquaintance. So Miss Laxton was brought into her hostess’s room, clutching one of Deborah’s wrappers round her small person, and Lady Bellingham said that she understood nothing, but Deborah had better put on her hat at once, and go out to buy the poor child something to wear and, as for Filey’s thinking that he would be permitted to gobble up such a morsel as that, it would give her much pleasure to be able to bestow a piece of her mind upon him, which she very likely would do, one fine day, for she was sure he was a disagreeable creature with a bad heart, and she had never liked him, no, not from the start!
This rambling speech gave Miss Grantham to understand that her aunt was resigned to the unexpected addition to her household, so she kissed that long-suffering lady’s cheek, and went off to replenish Phoebe’s wardrobe. By noon, Phoebe, dressed in pale blue muslin, was able to emerge from the seclusion of her bedchamber; and when Lord Mablethorpe arrived to pay his promised call, she was sitting with Deborah in the small back-parlour half-way up the stairs.
Lord Mablethorpe heartily approved of Deborah’s plan to keep Phoebe in St James’s Square, and he could not help feeling rather flattered by her dependence on his judgement. She made him feel quite old, and responsible, and by the time he had endorsed all his Deborah’s suggestions, he was in a fair way to believing that he had thought of them for himself. He helped to draft a suitable letter to Lord and Lady Laxton, which Phoebe copied out in her best copyplate handwriting, and he said that he would give a monkey to see their faces when they received it. This made their undutiful daughter giggle. His lordship then asked if it were true that the Honourable Arnold Laxton had been rolled-up at Epsom, and Miss Laxton said, yes, it was all so dreadful because Arnold always backed horses which fell down, or crossed their legs, and that was why it was so important that she should make a good match. This exchange led to others and, since both lived in the same circle, and knew very much the same people, it was not many minutes before they were on the most comfortable terms, pulling most of their relatives’ characters to shreds, and laughing a great deal over the business.
Lady Bellingham, coming into the room presently, and seeing her niece sewing quietly by the
window, while, on the sofa, Lord Mablethorpe and Miss Laxton had their heads close together, was quite dismayed. She seized the earliest opportunity of warning her niece that if she did not take care she would lose Mablethorpe as well as the twenty thousand pounds she had so recklessly refused.
“Well, I don’t want Mablethorpe,” said Miss Grantham, maddeningly placid. “I think it would be a charming thing if he were to fall out of love with me, and into love with Phoebe.”
“It might be a very charming thing if we had twenty thousand pounds,” said Lady Bellingham, with strong common sense. “When we have nothing but debts, it is a disaster! Do you know, my love, I have been trying to add up my accounts, and do what I will I cannot alter the truth! We lost seven thousand pounds last year by bad debts!”
“I dare say we might have,” said Miss Grantham. “It all comes of letting people run upon tick at the faro-table. I knew we ought not to do it.”
“Everything is so difficult!” sighed her ladyship. “No one can feel more conscious of the awkwardness of your situation than I, Deb, but if Ravenscar were to make his offer again, which I dare say he will, if you behaved as badly as you tell me you did, do you think you might—”
“No,” said Miss Grantham resolutely. “Nothing would induce me to accept a farthing from that man! Besides, he assured me his offer was no longer open to my acceptance, and I am convinced he meant it. I think he is going to try to worst me by some other means.”
“Good heavens!” cried her ladyship, aghast. “Never say so, my love! He might set about to ruin us! He would be the most dangerous enemy!”
“So am I a dangerous enemy,” retorted Miss Grantham. “He will soon find that out! Whatever he does, I shall counter with something worse.”
Lady Bellingham moaned, and tottered to her dressing table to fortify herself with hartshorn-and-water. Her hand shook quite pitiably as she poured the drops into her glass, and she again gave it as her opinion that her niece was mad. “Some dreadful fate will befall us!” she prophesied. “I know it. It is flying in the face of Providence to throw everything to the winds, as you are bent on doing! And I will tell you something else, Deb, though I dare say you won’t care for that any more than for the rest. It is all over town that Ormskirk is done-up. Beverley told me last night that he had had some deep doings these last months, and the cards running against him five nights out of seven. And we know how badly that odious horse of his did at Newmarket! Ten to one, he will call in that mortgage, for you know his estates are entailed! And all you will do is to talk of countering Ravenscar! The very man you should have made a push to turn into a friend instead of an enemy!”
“I make a friend of that man?” exclaimed Miss Grantham, flushing hotly. “I will starve rather!”
“Very well, my love, I am sure I do not wish to interfere with you, but I don’t want to starve!” said her ladyship indignantly.
“I won’t let you, ma’am. If we were to be faced with that, I would—I would make a bargain with Ormskirk! I would do anything rather than be beholden to Ravenscar!”
“Well, if you would do anything, you had better send that Laxton child home, and make sure of Mablethorpe.”
“Oh, poor Adrian, no!” said Miss Grantham quickly.
Lady Bellingham sank into a chair, and closed her eyes. “Go away!” she begged faintly. “I shall have the vapours in a minute!”
Miss Grantham laughed. “Oh, there are a dozen things we might do to be saved! Lucius was talking of going to Hanover the other day, and trying his fortune there. What do you say to our closing this house, and running off with him?”
“Now I am going to have the vapours!” said Lady Bellingham, with conviction.
“Only I won’t leave England until I have settled my score with Ravenscar,” said Miss Grantham, a sparkle in her eyes. “I wish I knew what he means to do next!”
“If it would bring you to your senses, I wish you might know!” said her aunt. “I dare say it would kill me, but you will not care for that!”
But a knowledge of Mr Ravenscar’s activities that morning would scarcely have occasioned Lady Bellingham any great discomfort of mind. Mr Ravenscar had gone to White’s Club.
He was a member of several clubs, but Brooks’s was known to be his favourite, so that some surprise was felt at his appearance at White’s. The porter told him that he had become quite a stranger to the place; and an acquaintance whom he encountered on the stairs said: “Why, Ravenscar, don’t tell me you’ve abandoned Brooks’s at last! We thought you was wholly lost to us!”
“No, not wholly,” Ravenscar replied. “Who’s upstairs?”
“Oh, the usual set!” said his friend airily. “I must tell you the odds are shortening on your race, by the way! Beverley’s seen Filey’s pair in action, and he says they are rare steppers.”
“Yes, so I hear,” Ravenscar said, unperturbed.
He passed on up the stairs to the room overlooking the street. Here he found several friends gathered, but after staying for a few minutes with them, he strolled over to the window, where Ormskirk was seated, glancing through the
Morning Post.
Ormskirk lowered the paper. “So you have decided not to desert the club!” he remarked. “And how—may I ask?—are your plans for your ingenuous cousin’s rescue progressing, my dear Ravenscar?”
“So far, the honours go to the lady,” answered Ravenscar.
“Ah,” said his lordship, gently polishing his quizzing-glass. “Somehow, I apprehended that your efforts had not been attended by success. Am I, I wonder, correct in assuming that the lady was in your cousin’s company last night?”
“You are. They were at Vauxhall together.”
His lordship looked pensive. “At Vauxhall, were they? That seems a rather public spot, does it not? One might almost infer that the die was cast.”
“Don’t disturb yourself! I have reason to think Miss Grantham has little or no intention of marrying my cousin. Unless I am much mistaken, she is playing deep.”
Ormskirk sighed. “But how sordid!” he complained. “I hope you may not have misjudged your powers of—persuasion, my dear fellow.”
“I don’t despair because the dice fall against me in the first throw,” responded Ravenscar.
“I am sure you are a hardened gamester,” agreed Ormskirk, smiling.
“Talking of gaming,” said Ravenscar, “when do you mean to permit me to measure my skill against yours at the game which, I confess, I regard as peculiarly my own?”
“Peculiarly your own?” murmured Ormskirk, raising his brows. “Can you mean piquet, my dear Ravenscar?”
“Why, yes!” acknowledged Ravenscar. “You threw a most delicate challenge in my way the other night. I must confess my curiosity and my self-esteem were stirred. I did not think I had my match, but I fancy you think otherwise, my lord.”
“To be sure,” sighed his lordship, “I have not been used to consider my own skill contemptible.”
“Come and dine at my house, and let us discover which of us has met his match!”
Ormskirk did not answer immediately. The bored smile still lingered on his lips, but seemed to have grown a little rigid. He went on polishing his glass with his lace-edged handkerchief, his eyes veiled.
“No?” Ravenscar said, the faintest suggestion of mockery in his voice.
Ormskirk lifted his eyes, and also his quizzing-glass. “My dear Ravenscar! My very dear Ravenscar! I never refuse a challenge. By all means let us measure our skill! But my recollection is that I invited you to come to nay house. Give me the pleasure of your company at dinner tonight, I beg of you!”
Mr Ravenscar accepted this invitation, stayed for a few moments in idle conversation, and presently withdrew, perfectly satisfied with the results of his visit to the club.
He dined tête-à-tête with his lordship, the faded sister who presided over the establishment having gone to spend the evening with friends, his lordship explained. Ravenscar guessed that she had had orders t
o absent herself, for it was well known that she never received anything but the most cavalier treatment from her brother. Dinner was good, and the wine excellent. Mr Ravenscar, calmly drinking glass for glass with his host, was glad to think that he had a hard head. He might almost have suspected Ormskirk of trying to fuddle his brain a little, so assiduous was he in keeping his guest’s glass filled.
A card-table had been set out in a comfortable saloon on the ground-floor of the house. Several unbroken packs stood ready to hand, and it was not long before the butler carried into the room a tray loaded with bottles and decanters, which he placed upon a side-table. Lord Ormskirk directed him to move a branch of candles nearer to the card-table, and with a smile, and a slight movement of one white hand, invited Ravenscar to be seated.
“What stakes do you care to play for, my dear Ravenscar?” he inquired, breaking open two of the packs at his elbow, and beginning to shuffle the cards.
“It is immaterial to me,” Ravenscar replied. “Let the stakes be what you choose, my lord: I shall be satisfied.”
Lady Bellingham had been correct in saying that his lordship had been having deep doings during the past weeks. He had a bout of ill-luck which had pursued him even into the racing-field, and had gone down to the tune of several thousands. Ravenscar’s challenge could not have been worse timed, but it was not in his lordship’s character to draw back, particularly from an adversary towards whom he felt a profound animosity. It was this animosity, coupled with a gamester’s recklessness, which prompted him to reply: “Shall we say pound points, then?”
“Yes, certainly,” Ravenscar answered.
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