Lord Bridlington chose, unwisely, to intervene at this point. ‘No doubt it is just as you say, ma’am, but this is hardly a topic for my mother’s sitting-room! Let me beg of you –’
Arabella turned on him like a flash, her eyes bright with tears, her voice unsteady with indignation. ‘I will not be silenced! It is a topic that should be discussed in every Christian lady’s sitting-room! Oh, I mean no disrespect, ma’am! You have not thought – you cannot have thought! Had you seen the wounds on this child’s body you could not refuse to help him! I wish I had made you come into my room when I had him naked in the bath! Your heart must have been touched!’
‘Yes, but, Arabella, my heart is touched!’ protested her afflicted godmother. ‘Only I don’t want a page, and he is much too young, and such an ugly little thing! Besides, the sweep will very likely claim him, because, whatever you may think, if the boy is apprenticed to him, which he must be –’
‘You may make your mind easy on that score, ma’am! His master will never dare to lay claim to him. He knows very well that he is in danger of being taken before a magistrate, for I told him so, and he did not doubt me! Why, he cringed at the very word, and backed himself out of the house as fast as he could!’
Mr Beaumaris spoke at last. ‘Did you confront the sweep, Miss Tallant?’ he asked, an odd little smile flickering on his lips.
‘Certainly I did!’ she replied, her glance resting on him for an indifferent moment.
Lady Bridlington was suddenly inspired. ‘He must go to the Parish, of course! Frederick, you will know how to set about it!’
‘No, no, he must not!’ Arabella declared. ‘That would be worse than anything, for what will they do with him, do you suppose, but set him to the only trade he knows? And he is afraid of those dreadful chimneys! If it were not so far away, I would send him to Papa, but how could such a little boy go all that way alone?’
‘No, certainly not!’ said Lord Fleetwood. ‘Not to be thought of!’
‘Lord Bridlington, surely, surely you would not condemn a child to such a life as he has endured?’ Arabella begged, her hands going out in a pleading gesture. ‘You have so much!’
‘Of course he wouldn’t!’ declared Fleetwood rashly. ‘Now, come, Bridlington!’
‘But why should I?’ demanded Frederick. ‘Besides, what could I do with the brat? It is the greatest piece of nonsense I ever had to listen to!’
‘Lord Fleetwood, will you take Jemmy?’ asked Arabella, turning to him beseechingly.
His lordship was thrown into disorder. ‘Well, I don’t think – You see, ma’am – Fact of the matter is – Dash it, Lady Bridlington’s right! The Parish! That’s the thing!’
‘Unworthy, Charles!’ said Mr Beaumaris.
The much goaded Lord Bridlington rounded on him. ‘Then, if that is what you think, Beaumaris, perhaps you will take the wretched brat!’
Then it was that Mr Beaumaris, looking across the room at Arabella, all flushed cheeks and heaving bosom, astonished the company, and himself as well. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I will.’
Nine
These simple words struck the ears of his audience with stunning effect. Lord Fleetwood’s jaw dropped; Lady Bridlington’s and her son’s rather protuberant eyes started at Mr Beaumaris; and Arabella stared at him in amazement. It was she who broke the silence. ‘You?’ she said, the incredulity in her tone leaving him in no doubt of her opinion of his character.
A rather rueful smiled twisted his lips. ‘Why not?’ he said.
Her eyes searched his face. ‘What would you do with him?’ she demanded.
‘I haven’t the smallest notion,’ he confessed. ‘I hope you may be going to tell me what I am to do with him, Miss Tallant.’
‘If I let you take him, you would throw him on the Parish, like Lord Fleetwood!’ she said bitterly.
His lordship uttered an inarticulate protest.
‘I have a great many faults,’ replied Mr Beaumaris, ‘but, believe me, you may trust my pledged word! I will neither throw him on the parish, nor restore him to his master.’
‘You must be mad!’ exclaimed Frederick.
‘You would naturally think so,’ said Mr Beaumaris, flicking him with one of his disdainful glances.
‘Have you considered what people would be bound to say?’ Frederick said.
‘No, nor do I propose to burden my head with anything that interests me so little!’ retorted Mr Beaumaris.
Arabella said in a softened voice: ‘If you mean it indeed, sir, you will be doing the very kindest thing – perhaps the best thing you have ever done, and, oh, I thank you!’
‘Certainly the best thing I have ever done, Miss Tallant,’ he said, with that wry smile.
‘What will you do with him?’ she asked again. ‘You must not be thinking that I mean you to adopt him as your own, or anything of that nature! He must be brought up to a respectable trade, only I do not know what would be the best for him!’
‘Perhaps,’ suggested Mr Beaumaris, ‘he has views of his own on the subject. What, Jemmy, would you choose to do?’
‘Yes, what would you like to do when you are a man?’ said Arabella, turning to kneel beside Jemmy’s chair, and speaking in a coaxing tone. ‘Tell me!’
Jemmy, who had been following all this with an intent look in his face, had no very clear idea of what it was about, but his quick, cockney mind had grasped that none of these swells, not even the stout, cross one, intended any harm to him. The scared expression in his eyes had given place to one of considerable acuteness. He answered his protectress without hesitation. ‘Give ole Grimsby a leveller!’ he said.
‘Yes, my dear, and so you shall, and I hope you will do the same by everyone like him!’ said Arabella warmly. ‘But how would you choose to earn your living?’
Mr Beaumaris’s lips twitched appreciatively. So the little Tallant had brothers, had she?
Lady Bridlington was looking bewildered, and her son disgusted. Lord Fleetwood, accepting Arabella’s unconsciously betrayed knowledge of boxing-cant without question, looked Jemmy over critically, and gave it as his opinion that the boy was not the right build for a bruiser.
‘Of course not!’ said Arabella. ‘Think, Jemmy! What could you do, do you suppose?’
The urchin reflected, while the company awaited his pleasure. ‘Sweep a crossing,’ he pronounced at last. ‘I could ’old the gen’lemen’s ’orses, then.’
‘Hold the gentlemen’s horses?’ repeated Arabella. Her eye brightened. ‘Are you fond of horses, Jemmy?’
Jemmy nodded vigorously. Arabella looked round in triumph. ‘Then I know the very thing!’ she said. ‘Particularly since it is you who are to take charge of him, Mr Beaumaris!’
Mr Beaumaris waited in deep foreboding for the blow to fall.
‘He must learn to look after horses, and then, as soon as he is a little older, you may employ him as your Tiger!’ said Arabella radiantly.
Mr Beaumaris, whose views on the folly of entrusting blood-cattle to the guardianship of small boys were as unequivocal as they were well-known, replied without a tremor: ‘To be sure I may. The future now being provided for –’
‘But you never drive with a Tiger up behind you!’ exclaimed Lord Bridlington. ‘You have said I know not how many times –’
‘I do wish, Bridlington, that you would refrain from interrupting with these senseless comments,’ said Mr Beaumaris.
‘But that child is far too young to be a Tiger!’ pointed out Lady Bridlington.
Arabella’s face fell. ‘Yes, he is,’ she said regretfully. ‘Yet it would be the very thing for him, if only we knew what to do with him in the meantime!’
‘I think,’ said Mr Beaumaris, ‘that in the meantime I had better convey him to my own house, and place him in the charge of my housekeeper, pending further discussion between us, Miss Tallant.’
He was rewarded with a glowing look. ‘I did not know you would be so kind!’ said Arabella. ‘It is a splendid notion, for the poor little fellow needs plenty of good food, and I am sure he must get it in your house! Listen, Jemmy, you are to go with this gentleman, who is to be your new master, and be a good boy, and do as he bids you!’
Jemmy, clutching a fold of her dress, was understood to say that he preferred to remain with her. She bent over him, patting his shoulder. ‘No, you cannot stay with me, my dear, and I am sure you would not like it half so well if you could, for you must know that he has a great many horses, and will very likely let you see them. Did you come here in your curricle, sir?’ Mr Beaumaris bowed. ‘Well, there, do you hear that, Jemmy?’ said Arabella, in a heartening tone. ‘You are to drive away in a carriage, behind a pair of beautiful gray horses!’
‘I am driving my chestnuts today,’ said Mr Beaumaris apologetically. ‘I am so sorry, but I feel I should perhaps mention it!’
‘You did very right,’ said Arabella approvingly. ‘One should never tell untruths to children! Chestnuts, Jemmy, glossy brown horses! How grand you will feel sitting up behind them!’
Apparently the urchin felt that there was much in what she said. He released her gown, and directed his sharp gaze upon his new owner. ‘Proper good ’uns?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘Proper good ’uns,’ corroborated Mr Beaumaris gravely.
Jemmy slid from the chair. ‘You ain’t slumming me? You won’t go a-givin’ of me back to ole Grimsby?’
‘No, I won’t do that. Come and take a look at my horses!’
Jemmy hesitated, glancing up at Arabella, who at once took his hand, and said: ‘Yes, let us go and see them!’
When Jemmy beheld the equipage being led up and down the street, his eyes widened, and he drew a shuddering breath of ecstasy. ‘That’s a bang-up set-out, that is!’ he said. ‘Will I drive them ’orses, guv’nor?’
‘You will not,’ said Mr Beaumaris. ‘You may sit up beside me, however.’
‘Yessir!’ said Jemmy, recognising the voice of authority.
‘Up with you, then!’ Mr Beaumaris said, lifting him into the curricle. He turned, and found that Arabella was holding her hand out to him. He took it in his, and held it for a moment.
‘I wish I might find the words to thank you!’ she said. ‘You will let me know how he goes on.’
‘You may rest easy on that head, Miss Tallant,’ he said, bowing. He took the reins in his hand, and mounted into the carriage, and looked down maliciously at Lord Fleetwood, who had accompanied them out of the house, and was just taking his leave of Arabella. ‘Come, Charles!’
Lord Fleetwood started, and said hurriedly: ‘No, no, I’ll walk! No need to worry about me, my dear fellow!’
‘Come, Charles!’ repeated Mr Beaumaris gently.
Lord Fleetwood, aware of Arabella’s eyes upon him, sighed, and said: ‘Oh, very well!’ and climbed into the curricle, wedging Jemmy between himself and Mr Beaumaris.
Mr Beaumaris nodded to his gaping groom, and steadied the chestnuts as they sprang forward. ‘Coward,’ he remarked.
‘It ain’t that I’m a coward!’ protested his lordship. ‘But we shall have all the fools in London staring after us! I can’t think what’s come over you, Robert! You’re never going to keep this brat in Mount Street! If it leaks out, and it’s bound to, I suppose you know everyone will think it’s a by-blow of yours?’
‘The possibility had crossed my mind,’ agreed Mr Beaumaris. ‘I am sure I ought not to let it weigh with me: Miss Tallant certainly would not.’
‘Well, damn it, I think that prosy fool, Bridlington, was right for once in his life! You’ve gone stark, staring mad!’
‘Very true: I have known it this half-hour and more.’
Lord Fleetwood looked at him in some concern. ‘You know, Robert, if you’re not careful you’ll find yourself walking to the altar before you’re much older!’ he said.
‘No, she has the poorest opinion of me,’ replied Mr Beaumaris. ‘I perceive that my next step must be to pursue the individual known to us as “ole Grimsby”.’
‘What?’ gasped Fleetwood. ‘She never asked that of you!’
‘No, but I feel she expects it of me.’ He saw that the mention of the sweep’s name had made Jemmy look up at him in quick alarm, and said reassuringly: ‘No, I am not going to give you to him.’
‘Robert, never in all the years I’ve known you have I seen you make such a cake of yourself!’ said his friend, with brutal frankness. ‘First you let the little Tallant bamboozle you into saddling yourself with this horrid brat, and now you talk of meddling with a chimney-sweep! You! Why, it’s unheard of!’
‘Yes, and, what is more, I have a shrewd suspicion that a benevolent career is going to prove extremely wearing,’ said Mr Beaumaris thoughtfully.
‘I see what it is,’ said Fleetwood, after regarding his profile for a few moments. ‘You’re so piqued she don’t favour you you’ll go to any lengths to fix your interest with the girl!’
‘I will,’ said Mr Beaumaris cordially.
‘Well, you’d better take care what you are about!’ said his worldly-wise friend.
‘I will,’ said Mr Beaumaris again.
Lord Fleetwood occupied himself during the rest of the short drive in delivering a severe lecture on the perfidy of those who, without having any serious intentions, attempted to cut out their friends with the season’s most notable catch, adding, for good measure, a lofty condemnation of hardened rakes who tried to deceive innocent country maidens.
Mr Beaumaris listened to him with the utmost amiability, only interrupting to applaud this last flight of eloquence. ‘That’s very good, Charles,’ he said approvingly. ‘Where did you pick it up?’
‘Devil!’ said his lordship, with feeling. ‘Well, I wash my hands of you – and I hope she will lead you a pretty dance!’
‘I have a strong premonition,’ replied Mr Beaumaris, ‘that your hope is likely to be realised.’
Lord Fleetwood gave it up, and as Mr Beaumaris saw no reason to take him into his confidence, what little time was left before Mount Street was reached was occupied in discussing the chances of the newest bruiser in his forthcoming fight with an acknowledged champion.
Mr Beaumaris, at this stage, would have been chary of confiding in anyone the precise nature of his intentions. He was by no means sure that he knew what they were himself, but that he had called in Park Street for precisely the reasons described by his friend, and, when confronted by the vision of Arabella fighting for the future of her unattractive protégé, had undergone an enlightenment so blinding as almost to deprive him of his senses, was certain. No consideration of the conduct to be expected of a delicately nurtured female had stopped her. She knew no discomfiture when two gentlemen of fashion had arrived to find her embroiled in the concerns of an urchin far beneath the notice of any aspirant to social heights. No, by God! thought Mr Beaumaris exultantly, she showed us what she thought of such frippery fellows as we are! We might have gone to the devil for all she cared. I might have made her a laughing-stock only by recounting the story – as I could! Lord, yes, as I could! Did she know it? Would she have cared? Not a farthing, the little Tallant! But I must stop Charles spreading this all over town.
Mr Beaumaris, hunting now in earnest, was by far too experienced a sportsman to pursue his quarry too closely. He let several days pass before making any attempt to approach Arabella. When next he encountered her it was at a ball given by the Charnwoods. He asked her to stand up with him for one of the country-dances, but when the moment for taking their places in the set came, led her to a sofa, saying: ‘Shall you object to sitting down with me instead? One can never converse in comfort while dancing, and I must consult you about our urchin.’
‘No, indeed!’ she said warmly. ‘I have been so anxious to know how he goes on
!’ She seated herself, holding her fan in her clasped hands, and raised her eyes to his face in an enquiring look. ‘Is he well? Is he happy?’
‘As far as I have been able to ascertain,’ replied Mr Beaumaris carefully, ‘he is not only fast recovering the enjoyment of excellent health, but is achieving no common degree of felicity by conduct likely to deprive me of the services of most of my existent staff.’
Arabella considered this. Mr Beaumaris watched appreciatively the wrinkling of her thoughtful brow. ‘Is he very naughty?’ she asked presently.
‘According to the report of my housekeeper, Miss Tallant – but I daresay she is not to be at all believed! – he is the embodiment of too many vices for me to enumerate.’
She seemed to accept this with unimpaired calm, for she nodded understandingly.
‘Pray do not think that I should dream of burdening you with anything so unimportant as the complaints of a mere housekeeper!’ begged Mr Beaumaris. ‘Nothing but the most urgent of exigencies could have prevailed upon me to open my lips to you upon this subject!’ She looked startled, and enquiring: ‘You see,’ he said apologetically, ‘it is Alphonse!’
‘Alphonse?’
‘My chef,’ explained Mr Beaumaris. ‘Of course, if you say so, ma’am, he shall go! But I must own that his departure would cause me grave concern. I do not mean to say that my life would be shattered, precisely, for no doubt there are other chefs who have his way with a soufflé, and who do not take such violent exception to the raids of small boys upon the larder!’
‘But this is quite absurd, Mr Beaumaris!’ said Arabella severely. ‘You must have been indulging Jemmy beyond what is right! I daresay he is excessively ill-behaved: it is always so, unless their spirits are utterly broken, and we must be thankful that his are not!’
‘Very true!’ agreed Mr Beaumaris, entranced by this wisdom. ‘I will at once present this view of the matter to Alphonse.’
Arabella shook her head. ‘Oh, no! it would not be of the least avail, I daresay! Foreigners,’ she said largely, ‘have no notion how to manage children! What is to be done?’