Snowdrift and Other Stories

by Georgette Heyer

  The damp handkerchief had dropped from the widow’s clutch to the floor; she sat gazing up at his lordship with so odd an expression in her face that he added quickly: ‘You find it strange that Fanny should have confided in me. Do not be hurt by it! I believe it is often the case that a girl will more easily give her confidence to her father than to a most beloved mother. When she spoke, it was in the belief that I might become – But I will say no more on that head!’

  The widow found her voice at last. ‘My lord,’ she said, ‘do I – do I understand that you are desirous of becoming Fanny’s father?’

  ‘That is not quite as I should phrase it, perhaps,’ he said, with a wry smile.

  ‘Not,’ asked the widow anxiously, ‘not – you are quite sure? – Fanny’s husband?’

  He looked thunderstruck. ‘Fanny’s husband?’ he echoed. ‘I? Good God, no! Why – is it possible that you can have supposed –?’

  ‘I have never fainted in all my life,’ stated Mrs Wingham, in an uncertain voice. ‘I very much fear, however –’

  ‘No, no, this is no time for swoons!’ he said, seizing her hands. ‘You cannot have thought that it was Fanny I loved! Yes, yes, I know what Fanny has been to you, but you cannot have been so absurd!’

  ‘Yes, I was,’ averred the widow. ‘I could even be so absurd as not to have the remotest guess why I have felt so low ever since I met you, and thought you wished to marry her!’

  He knelt beside her chair, still clasping her hands. ‘What a fool I was! But I thought my only hope of being in any way acceptable to you was to praise Fanny to you! And, indeed, she is a delightful girl! But all you have said to me today – you were not speaking of yourself?’

  ‘Oh no, no! Of Fanny! You see, she and Richard –’

  ‘Never mind Fanny and Richard!’ he interrupted. ‘Is it still useless for me to persist in my errand to you?’

  ‘Quite ridiculous!’ she said, clinging to his hands. ‘You have not the least need to persist in it! That is, if you do indeed wish to marry such a blind goose as I have been!’

  His lordship disengaged his hands, but only that he might take her in his arms. ‘I wish it more than for anything else on this earth!’ he assured her.

  To Have the Honour

  1

  YOUNG LORD ALLERTON, a little pale under his tan, glanced from his mother to his man of business. ‘But – good God, why was I never told in what case I stood?’

  Mr Thimbleby did not attempt to answer this home question. He perceived that young Lord Allerton’s facial resemblance to his deceased father was misleading. There was nothing the late Viscount had desired less than to be told in what case he stood. Three years of campaigning in the Peninsula had apparently engendered in the Fifth Viscount a sense of responsibility which, however welcome it might be in the future to his man of business, seemed at the moment likely to lead to unpleasantness. Mr Thimbleby directed an appealing look towards the widow.

  She did not fail him. Regarding her handsome eldest born with an eye of fond pride, she said: ‘But when poor Papa died, you had been wounded, dearest! I would not for the world have distressed you!’

  The Viscount said impatiently: ‘A scratch! I was back in the saddle within a week! Mama, how could you keep me in ignorance of our circumstances? Had I had the least notion of the truth I must have returned to England immediately!’

  ‘Exactly so!’ nodded his parent. ‘And that, dearest Alan, I was determined you should not be obliged to do! Everyone said the war would so soon be over, and I knew how mortified you would be to be forced to sell out before the glorious end! To be sure, I did hope that directly after Toulouse you might have been released, but it was not to be, and it is of no consequence, except that here we are, with all the foreign notables upon us, and I have the greatest dread that your tailor may not have your evening dress ready for you to wear at my ball next week!’

  ‘That, Mama, believe me, is the least of our problems!’

  ‘Very true, my love,’ agreed her ladyship. ‘Trix has been in despair, but “Depend upon it”, I have said from the outset, “even though your brother may patronize Scott, instead of Weston, who always did so well by poor Papa, you may be confident that no tailor would fail at such a juncture!”’ Her gaze dwelled appreciatively upon his lordship’s new coat of olive-green, upon the pantaloons of delicate yellow which clung to his shapely legs, upon the Hessian boots which shone so bravely, and upon the neckcloth which was tied with such nicety, and she heaved a satisfied sigh.

  The Viscount turned in desperation to his man of business. ‘Thimbleby!’ he uttered. ‘Be so good as to explain to me why you did not think it proper to inform me that my father had left me encumbered with debt.’

  Mr Thimbleby cast another imploring glance at the widow. ‘Her ladyship having done me the honour to admit me into her confidence, my lord, it seemed to me – that is, I was encouraged to hope . . .’

  ‘To hope what?’

  ‘My dear son, you must not blame our good Thimbleby!’ intervened Lady Allerton. ‘Indeed, no one is to be blamed, for if you will but consider you will perceive that our case is not desperate!’

  ‘Desperate! I trust not! But that there is the most urgent need of the strictest economy – even, I fear, of measures as repugnant to me as they must be to you, ma’am, I cannot doubt! I dare not think what my own charges upon the estate have been during these months, when I should have been doing what lies within my power to repair what I do not scruple to call a shockingly wasted fortune!’

  ‘No, no, it is not as bad as that!’ she assured him. ‘My dear Alan, there is one circumstance you are forgetting!’

  He stared at her with knitted brows. ‘Pray, what am I forgetting, ma’am?’

  ‘Hetty!’ she said, opening her eyes at him.

  ‘I certainly do not forget my cousin, Mama, but in what way my embarrassments can be thought to concern her I have not the remotest conjecture!’ said his lordship. A dreadful thought flashed into his mind; he said quickly: ‘You are not trying to tell me, ma’am, that my cousin’s fortune has been used to – No, no, impossible! She is still under age, and cannot have been allowed – There was another trustee besides my father, after all! Old Ossett could never have countenanced such a thing!’

  ‘Nothing of the sort!’ said her ladyship. ‘And I must say, Alan, that I wonder at your supposing that I would entertain such a notion, except, of course, under such circumstances as must render it entirely proper! My own niece! I might almost say my daughter, for I am sure she is as dear to me as Trix!’

  Mr Thimbleby, who had been unobtrusively engaged in putting up his papers, now judged it to be time to withdraw from a discussion which was not progressing according to hopeful expectation. The Viscount, beyond reminding him rather sharply that he should require his attendance upon the morrow, made no objection to his bowing himself out of the room, but began to pace about the floor, his brow furrowed, and his lips compressed as though to force back unwise speech.

  His parent said sympathetically: ‘I was afraid you would be a trifle shocked, dearest. It was hazard, of course. I knew no good would come of it when poor Papa forsook faro, at which he had always been so fortunate!’

  The Viscount halted, and said with careful self-control: ‘Mama, have you realized that to win free from this mountain of debt I must sell some – perhaps all! – of the unentailed property? When I learned that my father had left everything to me, making not the least provision for Timothy or for Trix, I own I was astonished! I see now why he did so, but how I am to provide for them I know not! Ma’am, you have been talking ever since my arrival of the ball you are giving in honour of this Grandduchess of yours, of the drawing-room at which you mean to present my sister, but have you realized that there is no money to pay for these things?’

  ‘Good gracious, Alan, you should realize that if I do not!’ exclaimed her ladyship. ‘I declare I can scarcely recall when I was last able to pay a bill, and the tiresome thing is that there
are now so many of them in that drawer in my desk that I can’t open it!’

  ‘For God’s sake, Mama, how have you contrived to continue living in this style?’ demanded the Viscount.

  ‘Oh, well, my love, upon credit! Everyone has been most obliging!’

  ‘Merciful heavens!’ muttered the Viscount. ‘What credit, ma’am?’

  ‘But, Alan, they all guess that you are going to marry dear Hetty, and they know her fortune to be immense!’

  ‘O my God!’ said the Viscount, and strode over to the window. ‘So that’s it, is it?’

  Lady Allerton regarded his straight back in some dismay. ‘It has always been an understood thing!’ she faltered.

  ‘Nonsense!’

  ‘But it was my dear brother’s wish!’

  ‘It can scarcely have been his wish that his daughter should be married to an impoverished – fortune-hunter!’ said the Viscount bitterly. ‘And it must be very far from Sir John Ossett’s wish!’

  ‘Now there you are out!’ said her ladyship triumphantly. ‘Sir John will raise not the smallest objection to the match, for he has told me so! He knows it is what my brother intended, and, what is more, he has a great regard for you, my love!’

  ‘I am obliged to him!’

  ‘Alan!’ ejaculated her ladyship. ‘You – you have not formed an attachment for another?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘No, I was persuaded – Dearest, I thought – Of course, she was very young when you went away, but it did seem to me –’

  ‘Mama,’ he interrupted, ‘whatever my sentiments, you cannot have supposed it possible that I would offer for my cousin in my present circumstances!’

  ‘But it seems just the moment!’ protested his mother. ‘Besides, she expects it!’

  He wheeled about. ‘Expects it?’

  ‘Yes, I assure you she does! Dearest Hetty! If she could have done it, she would have bestowed her entire fortune on me! I never knew a better-hearted girl, never!’

  ‘Oh, good God, then that is why she is now so shy of me!’ said the Viscount. ‘My poor little cousin! How could you let her think it was her duty to marry me, Mama? It is infamous! Have you kept her shut away from the world in case she should meet a more eligible suitor than ever I can be?’

  ‘No, I have not!’ replied Lady Allerton, affronted. ‘I brought her out two years ago, and she has had a great many suitors, and has refused them all! She is a very well-behaved girl, and would never dream of marrying to disoblige me!’

  ‘She has been shamefully used!’ he said.

  2

  THE OBJECT OF the Viscount’s pity, Miss Henrietta Clitheroe, was at the moment seated in a small saloon at the back of the house, studying, with her young cousin, the latest issue of La Belle Assemblée, and endeavouring to convince Miss Allerton that a dress of gauze worn over a damped and transparent petticoat was a toilette scarcely designed to advance her in the good graces of those august members of the ton who were pledged to appear at her mama’s party given in honour of the Grandduchess Catherine of Oldenburg. This was not a circumstance which weighed with Miss Allerton, who, at seventeen, was thought by the censorious to have been born for the express purpose of driving her mother into her grave by the outrageous nature of her pranks; but she knew that she would never be permitted to wear such a dress, and so allowed herself to be distracted by the picture of a damsel arrayed in white satin embellished with rosebuds and love-knots.

  She was just saying, though disconsolately, that she supposed it was quite a pretty dress, when the Viscount came into the room, and, still holding the door, said: ‘The latest fashions? Am I very much in the way, or may I have a word with you, cousin?’

  The colour flooded Henrietta’s cheeks; she stammered: ‘Oh no! I mean, to be sure you may, Alan!’

  Miss Allerton, unwontedly meek, obeyed the command contained in the jerk of his lordship’s head, and tripped out of the room. The Viscount shut the door, and turned to look across the saloon at his cousin. Her colour rose higher still, and she pretended to search for something in the litter of objects on the table.

  ‘Henry . . .’ the Viscount said.

  She looked up at that, a little shy smile on her lips. ‘Oh, Alan, no one has called me that since you went away! How nice it sounds!’

  He returned the smile, although with an effort. ‘Does it? You will always be Henry to me, you know.’ He paused; and then said with a good deal of constraint: ‘I have been with my mother and with Thimbleby for the past hour. What I have learnt from them has made me feel that I must speak to you immediately.’

  ‘Oh – oh, yes?’ said Henrietta.

  ‘Yes. I think I was never more shocked in my life than when I realized –’ He broke off, conscious of the awkwardness of his situation. His own colour rose; he said with a rueful laugh: ‘The devil! I’m as tongue-tied as a schoolboy! Henry, I only wanted to say – I’m not going to offer for you!’

  The flush in Henrietta’s cheeks began to ebb. ‘Oh!’ she said. ‘N-not going to offer for me?’

  He came towards her, and took her hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze. ‘Of course I am not! How could you think I would do so, you foolish Henry? You have been made to believe that you were in some way promised to me, haven’t you? Some absurd talk of what your father desired – of what you owed to my family. Well, you owe us nothing, my dearest cousin! It is rather we who owe you a great debt. You have been our – most beloved sister – ever since you came to live with us. I am ashamed that it should ever have been suggested to you that it is your duty to marry me: it is no such thing! You are free to marry whom you please.’

  This did not, at the moment, appear likely to the heiress. She disengaged her hands. ‘Am – am I?’

  ‘Indeed you are!’ With an attempt at lightness, he added: ‘Unless you choose someone quite ineligible! I warn you, I should do what I could to prevent that, Henry!’

  She managed to smile. ‘I should be obliged to elope, then, should I not? I – I am glad you have been so frank with me. Now we can be comfortable again!’

  ‘My poor girl!’ he said quickly. ‘If only you had told me what was in the wind –! There was never a hint in any of your letters. I would have set your mind at rest months ago! No: you could not, of course!’

  She turned away, and began to tidy the litter on the table. She said, in a voice that did not sound to her ears quite like her own: ‘I own, I had as lief not be married for my fortune!’ He returned no answer; after a pause, she added: ‘Are your affairs in very bad case, Alan?’

  ‘Not so bad that I shall not be able, with time and good management, to set them to rights, I hope,’ he replied. ‘I could wish that my mother had not chosen, at this moment, to entertain upon so lavish a scale. I suppose nothing can be done about this party for the Russian woman, but for the rest – the Whites’ Ball, Trix’s presentation –’

  ‘Good God, do not tell my aunt she must postpone that!’ exclaimed Henrietta. ‘If she is obliged to wait another year, Trix will very likely run off with a handsome Ensign!’ She saw the startled look on his face, and added: ‘You don’t yet know her, Alan!’

  ‘My dear Henry, at seventeen she can hardly be thinking of marriage, surely!’

  ‘The last man she fell in love with was young Stillington,’ said Henrietta thoughtfully. ‘To be sure, he was better than that actor she saw in Cheltenham, but still quite ineligible of course. Fortunately, her mind was diverted by the plans for her first season.’

  ‘It is time Trix was broke to bridle!’ said his lordship roundly. He then favoured his cousin with a few animadversions upon the conduct of his lively young sister, and left her to her reflections.

  These were not for many moments concerned with the almost inevitable clash between brother and sister. They led Henrietta to the mirror, and caused her to stare long at her own image.

  It should have comforted her. Dark ringlets framed a charming countenance in which two speaking eyes of blue became gradually filled wit
h tears that obscured her vision of a short, straight nose, a provocative upper lip, and an elusive dimple. These attributes had apparently failed to captivate the Viscount. The heiress uttered a strangled sob, and dabbed resolutely at her eyes, realizing that she would shortly be obliged to confront Miss Allerton, agog to know whether the date of her wedding had been fixed.

  Nor was she mistaken. In a very few minutes, Trix peeped into the room, and, finding her cousin alone, at once demanded to be told what Alan had said to her.

  Henrietta replied in the most cheerful of accents: ‘I am so much relieved! He does not wish to marry me at all!’

  Trix, shocked by these tidings, could only stare at her.

  ‘You may imagine how happy he has made me!’ continued Henrietta glibly. ‘Had he desired it, I must have thought it my duty to marry him, but he has set my mind at rest on this head, and now I can be easy again!’

  ‘But you have loved him for years!’ Trix blurted out.

  ‘Indeed I have!’ said Henrietta cordially. ‘I am sure I always shall!’

  ‘Hetty! When you have been writing to him for ever!’

  ‘Pray, what has that to say to anything? To me, he is the elder brother I never had.’

  ‘Hetty, what a hum! He is my brother, and I never wrote to him above twice in my life!’

  Before Henrietta could reply suitably to this, they were joined by a willowy young gentleman in whom only the very stupid could have failed to recognize a Pink of the Ton. From the tip of his pomaded head to the soles of his dazzling Hessians, the Honourable Timothy Allerton was beautiful to behold. He was generally supposed to care for nothing but the fashion of his neckcloth, but he showed unmistakable signs of caring for the news which his sister broke to him. ‘Not going to offer for Hetty?’ he repeated, aghast. ‘Well, upon my soul! Well, what I mean is, might think what’s due to the rest of us! Mind, I don’t say I’m surprised he don’t like it above half, but the thing is he’s the head of the family, and he dashed well ought to do it! What’s more,’ he said, his amiable countenance darkening, ‘if he thinks he can make me offer for her he’ll find he’s devilish mistaken! It ain’t that I don’t like you, Hetty,’ he added kindly, ‘because I do, but that’s coming it a trifle too strong!’