Sir Thomas, meanwhile, who had been persuaded to resume both his seat by the fire and the plaid shawl which had been draped round his shoulders, said to the Earl: ‘Who is this young fellow, eh, my lord? What did you say his name was?’
‘Ulverston: he is Wrexham’s eldest son, and, like myself, has lately sold out of the Army.’
‘H’m!’ Sir Thomas’s shrewd gaze dwelled for a minute on the Viscount and Marianne. ‘I like the cut of his jib,’ he decided.
‘He is the best of good fellows.’
Lady Bolderwood seemed also to like the Viscount, which was not surprising, since he seized the first opportunity that offered of seating himself on the sofa beside her, and making himself agreeable. Upon hearing that he was staying for the present at Stanyon, she very cordially invited him to come to Whissenhurst with the Earl to an informal party she had the intention of giving before leaving for London. He accepted, but he did not feel it to be incumbent upon him to tell her that she might expect to have the pleasure of seeing him at Whissenhurst considerably before this date.
The Stanyon party soon took leave, and Lady Bolderwood went with Marianne upstairs to her dressing-room, in the expectation of hearing every detail of her visit. She did indeed hear that Marianne had enjoyed herself very much, that Lady St Erth had been kind, and dear Drusilla very kind, that the ball had been delightful, and she had had so many partners she could not remember the half of them; but it seemed to her that her daughter was rather abstracted. She supposed that she was tired from so much excitement, and expected her to profit by a long night’s rest. But on the following morning Marianne was more abstracted than ever; paid very little heed to Mr Warboys, who called at Whissenhurst on the plausible excuse of wishing to know how Sir Thomas was going on; and was three times discovered by her Mama to be lost in some day-dream: once when she should have been practising her music, once when she had been desired to wash the Sèvres ornaments in the drawingroom, and once when she should have been setting stitches in the sampler destined for her Aunt Caroline. Lady Bolderwood felt herself to be obliged to speak reprovingly to her, pointing out to her that if she allowed herself to be so much affected by one country-ball, a Season in London would transform her into a good-for-nothing miss, never happy except when at a party. Much discomposed, Marianne bent over the sampler, murmuring that it was not that, and indeed she did not care so very much for parties.
‘Well, my love, you must not let Stanyon make you discontented, you know. I daresay the Rutlands, and their set, may have been very agreeable, but I did not like to see you so uncivil to poor Barny Warboys.’
‘Oh, no, Mama!’ Marianne protested, tears starting to her eyes.
‘You did not make him very welcome, did you? One should never discard old friends, my dear, for new ones.’
‘I did not mean – I have the head-ache a little!’ Marianne faltered. ‘Indeed I did not mean to be unkind to Barny!’
‘No, my love, I am persuaded you would not mean to be unkind,’ Lady Bolderwood said, patting her cheek. ‘It is just that your mind is running a little too much on your pleasuring at Stanyon. There! don’t cry! I know I have only to give you a hint.’
Marianne kissed her, and promised amendment. She did indeed perform conscientiously such tasks as were given her, but her spirits were uneven. At one moment she would be her merry self, at the next she would be pensive, slipping away to walk by herself in the shrubbery, or sitting with her eyes bent on the pages of a book, and her thoughts far away. The various young gentlemen who paid morning-visits to Whissenhurst found her gay, but disinclined to flirt with them, a change which Lady Bolderwood at first saw with satisfaction, and which soon led her to suspect that Marianne might have got into a scrape at Stanyon. When Martin came to Whissenhurst, and was met by Marianne with unaccustomed formality, she was sure of it, and she begged her daughter to tell her what had occurred. Marianne, hanging down her head, admitted that Martin had tried to make love to her, but she hastened to add that it had not been so very bad, and Drusilla had thought it would be foolish to refine too much upon it.
‘Drusilla Morville is a very sensible girl,’ said Lady Bolderwood approvingly. ‘She is perfectly right, and perhaps I am not sorry that it happened, for it has made you see what flirting leads to, my dear, and in future you will take better care, I am sure.’
She believed that the want of tone in Marianne’s spirits was now accounted for, but when she confided the story to her husband he disconcerted her by saying in his bluff way: ‘Well, Mama, you should know your daughter best, but it’s the first time I ever heard of a girl’s moping about the house because a handsome young fellow shows himself to be head over ears in love with her!’
‘My dear Sir Thomas, I am persuaded she was much shocked by Martin’s behaviour –’
‘Shocked! Ay, so she might be, the naughty puss! But that’s no reason why she should peck at her dinner, and sit staring into the fire when she thinks we ain’t watching her. No, no, my lady, if it’s young Frant who has made her lose her appetite, you may call me a Dutchman!’
His wife smiled indulgently, and shook her head, but events proved Sir Thomas to have been right. On the very next morning, when Marianne sat in the window of the front parlour with her Mama, helping her to hem some handkerchiefs, a horseman was seen trotting up the drive. Lady Bolderwood did not immediately recognize him, and she was just wondering aloud who it could be when she became aware of an extraordinary change in her listless daughter. Marianne was blushing, her head bent over her stitchery, but the oddest little smile trembling on her lips. In great astonishment, Lady Bolderwood stared at her.
‘I think – I believe – it is Lord Ulverston, Mama!’ murmured Marianne.
Lord Ulverston it was, and in a very few moments he was shaking hands with them, fluently explaining that since his way led past their house he could not but call to enquire whether Sir Thomas and her ladyship were quite recovered from their indispositions. Lady Bolderwood’s astonishment grew, for as he turned from her to take Marianne’s hand in his she perceived such a glowing look in her daughter’s countenance, such a shy yet beaming smile in her eyes as made her seem almost a stranger to her own mother.
Sir Thomas, informed by a servant of his lordship’s arrival, then entered the room, and made the Viscount heartily welcome. To his lady’s considerable indignation, he bestowed on her a quizzing look which informed her how far more exactly he had read their daughter’s mind than she had.
The Viscount stayed chatting easily for perhaps half an hour, and if his eyes strayed rather often to Marianne’s face, and his voice underwent a subtle change when he had occasion to address her, his conduct was otherwise strictly decorous. When he rose to depart, Sir Thomas escorted him to the front-door. No sooner, however, was the parlour-door shut behind them than his lordship requested the favour of a few words with his host.
‘Ho! So that’s it, is it?’ said Sir Thomas. ‘Well, well, you had better come into my library, my lord, I suppose!’
When Sir Thomas presently rejoined his ladies, and they had watched the Viscount riding away, Marianne asked if he had been showing his Indian treasures to his lordship.
‘Ay, that was it,’ replied Sir Thomas, chuckling. But when Marianne had left the room, he said to his wife, with one of his cracks of mirth: ‘Indian treasures! It wasn’t any Indian treasure his lordship came after!’
‘Good heavens!’ she exclaimed. ‘You cannot, surely, mean that he has made an offer for Marianne?’
‘That’s it. Came to ask my permission to pay his addresses to her, just as he ought.’
‘But he has only been acquainted with her a few days!’
‘What’s that got to say to anything? I knew my mind five minutes after I met you, my lady!’
‘She is too young! Why, she is not yet out!’
‘Ay, so I told him. I said we could not sanction any engagement until she
had seen a bit of the world.’
She regarded him with suspicion. ‘Sir Thomas, do you mean to tell me you gave him permission to pay his addresses?’
‘Why, I said if my girl loved him I would not say no,’ he confessed. ‘It would be no bad thing for her, you know, Maria. Setting aside the title, he’s just the cut of a man I fancy for my little puss. He ain’t after her fortune: from what he tells me, he’s a man of comfortable fortune himself. I can tell you this, I’d as lief her affections were engaged before we expose her to all the handsome young scamps with high-sounding titles and lean purses who are hanging out in London for rich wives!’
‘I am persuaded she would never –’
‘Maria, my dear, there’s no saying what she might do, for she’s not up to snuff, like some of the young ladies I’ve seen, and when a girl is heiress to a hundred thousand pounds every needy rascal will be paying court to her! A pretty thing it would be if she chose to set her heart on a man that only wants her fortune!’
‘Yes, yes, but – My dear Sir Thomas, you run on so fast! You do not consider! The Wrexhams might not care for the match, after all!’
He gave a dry chuckle. ‘There’s only one thing could make the Wrexhams, or any other high family, dislike it, Maria, and that’s for me to gamble my fortune away on ’Change!’ he said.
Thirteen
While the Viscount was pursuing his courtship of Marianne, Martin seemed to be making an effort to get upon better terms with his half-brother. His attempts at friendliness, which were sometimes rather too studied, were tranquilly received, the Earl neither encouraging nor repulsing him, but holding himself a little aloof, and meeting advances that were not unlike those of a half-savage puppy with a serenity which was as unruffled by present blandishments as it had been by past enmity.
Though the Viscount might regard Martin’s change of face with suspicion, Theo and Miss Morville observed it with feelings of hope, and of relief.
‘I think,’ Miss Morville said thoughtfully, ‘that the sweetness of his lordship’s temper has had its effect upon Martin. He was at first inclined to see in it a lack of manly spirit, and now that he has discovered how far this is from the truth he begins to respect him – and with Martin, you know, respect must be the foundation of liking.’
‘Exactly so!’ Theo said warmly. ‘Your observation is very just, Drusilla! For my part, I believe Martin has seen the folly of his former conduct, and means to do better in the future.’
‘And for my part,’ interpolated Ulverston, ‘I think your precious Martin has had a fright, and is set on making us all think him reconciled to Ger’s existence!’
‘A harsh judgment!’ Theo said, smiling. ‘I have known Martin almost from his cradle, and I cannot believe that there is any real harm in him. He is hot-at-hand, often behaves stupidly, but that there is vice in him I will not think!’
‘Ay, there you have the matter in a nutshell!’ said Ulverston. ‘You will not think it!’
‘I know what is in your mind, but I believe him to have repented most sincerely.’
‘Lord, Frant, do you take me for a flat? If he repents, it is because he caused Ger’s horse to cut his knees!’ He encountered a warning look cast at him from under Theo’s brows, and added impatiently: ‘Nonsense! Miss Morville was with him, and must know the truth!’
‘Drusilla, is this so indeed? And you said nothing?’
‘I do know the cause of the accident,’ she replied calmly. ‘His lordship desired me to hold my peace, however, and I have done so, because I think him very well able to conduct his own affairs without my interference.’
‘None better!’ said the Viscount. ‘Never knew anyone with a better understanding! He ain’t the man to be taken in by a hoax, and if he don’t see that all this brotherly love that whelp is showing him is too smoky by half, he ain’t such a deep ’un as I’ve always thought!’
‘Remember, though you may know Gervase, I have reason to know Martin!’ Theo said. ‘I must continue to hold by my opinion! I don’t deny that I have been made to feel a greater degree of uneasiness than perhaps you have any idea of, but events have so turned out that I begin to think that I shall be able to leave Stanyon with a quiet mind presently.’
‘Leave Stanyon? Do you mean to do so?’ asked the Viscount, surprised.
‘Oh, not for ever! Merely, I ought, a week ago, to have set forth on my travels, and have postponed my journey. I am my cousin’s agent, you know, and at this season I, in general, spend some days at his various estates.’
‘Ay, do you so? And why have you postponed your journey?’ demanded the Viscount.
Theo laughed. ‘Yes, yes, you have me there! But that is to be a thing of the past, if you please! If Martin’s passions have led him to play some dangerous pranks on his brother, he will do so no more! See if I am not right!’
Martin himself seemed anxious to reassure his cousin. His reason for doing so was not far to seek, and he stated it bluntly, saying: ‘You need not spy on me, Theo! I know you think I may play some trick on St Erth, but I shall not!’
‘My dear Martin!’
‘Well, you do think it!’ Martin insisted. ‘Merely because I didn’t warn him about that bridge! Such a kick-up as you made!’
‘Are you surprised?’
‘Oh, well! I own I shouldn’t have cared if he had fallen into the river, then; but I have come to think he is not such a bad fellow – if only one knew how to take him!’
‘Is it so difficult?’
‘It may not be for you, because he likes you.’
‘He has given you little cause to suppose that he does not like you,’ Theo said, in a dry tone.
‘You may as well say that I gave him cause not to like me, for that’s what you mean, I collect!’ said Martin rather angrily. ‘I don’t know what you think I may do to tease him, but I wish you will stop hovering about me, as though you were my gaoler, or some such thing!’
‘This is fancy, Martin!’
‘No, it ain’t. Why did you choose to go with us, when I took Gervase round the new coverts?’
‘Good God! Why should I not go with you?’
‘That wasn’t the only time, either!’ pursued Martin. ‘I suppose you thought, when I challenged him to shoot against me, I might fire my pistol at him instead of the mark, unless you were there to watch us?’
‘No, Martin: in spite of what occurred when you tried to match him with foils, I did not think that.’
Martin flushed hotly. ‘That was an accident!’
‘No accident that you did not get out of distance when you saw that the button was off your foil.’
‘If you mean to throw it up at me for ever that I lost my temper – Besides, he is a much more skilful fencer than I am! I could never have touched him!’
‘I beg your pardon! I had no thought of throwing it up at you, until you began on this nonsense. You had better put it out of your head. You will not be burdened with my presence for a while: I am off to Evesleigh, and then to Maplefield, in a day or two.’
When the Earl heard of these plans, he showed how well-aware he was of having been kept under protective surveillance by laughing, and asking, at his most demure, if Theo thought that he would be safe without him. He was playing chess with Miss Morville, in the library, when Theo informed him what his movements would be, and he did not scruple to add: ‘I go on very well with Martin, and shall go on better still when I have no watch-dog. I am much obliged to you, Theo, but I fancy your care of me has not gone unobserved, and has done little to endear me to Martin. It is your move, Miss Morville.’
‘I know it, but I think you have laid a trap for me,’ she responded, frowning at the board. ‘I have noticed, my lord, that whenever you make what seems to me to be a careless move I immediately find myself in difficulties.’
‘What an unhandsome fellow!’ said Theo, smiling. ‘
I had not thought him capable of duplicity!’
‘Strategy, not duplicity, Theo!’
‘I stand corrected. I wish my own efforts in strategy equalled yours, but they seem to be sadly deficient in subtlety. You are right, Gervase: I have been taken to task by Martin for having accompanied you both on your various expeditions, and will mend my ways.’
‘Yes, pray do so: I don’t need a bodyguard. But must you go to Evesleigh? Can your business there not be done from Stanyon? It is only ten miles distant, is it not?’
‘A little more than that. I find it is always better if I spend a day or two on the premises. The question is whether, this year, I should go to Studham. I must ask Martin if he wishes it.’
‘Ask Martin if he wishes what?’ demanded Martin, who had entered the room in time to overhear this.
‘Studham. Do you mean to be your own agent, or shall I act for you?’
‘Lord, I’d forgotten that! I wouldn’t above half mind managing the place myself, if it were mine!’
Theo looked amused. ‘If it were not for one circumstance, I should suggest that you accompany me there,’ he said. ‘As it is, if you go, you go alone! I shall not readily forget your last encounter with its present occupant.’
‘Is it possible that Martin does not care for Aunt Dorothea?’ asked the Earl, moving one of his knights to protect a threatened pawn.
Martin grinned, but it was Theo who answered: ‘It is a case of mutual dislike. It has been my unhappy fate to act as mediator in several skirmishes, and it is my firm resolve not to be present at their Waterloo!’
‘I’ll tell you what, St Erth!’ said Martin. ‘You should go to Studham with Theo!’
‘I can perceive not the smallest reason why I should do anything of the sort.’
‘To pay your respects to my aunt, of course! If you will invite her to live here, dash it, I will go and live at Studham!’
‘Thank you, Martin, I prefer your company to Aunt Dorothea’s.’
The Quiet Gentleman Page 18
